I'm sorry if you keep seeing this story pop up. The first time, a uploaded the wrong document. The second time, FF was acting up and deleted my story.

Warnings for Chapter: Some language, child abuse and a depressing back story or two

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee (if I did, it would star much more Klaine this season and those rumors about them breaking up would be squashed like a bug)

Summary: Blaine grew up in New York, and when he was eleven years old, he met a mute runaway named Kurt Hummel. The Anderson family took in Kurt and since then, and he has become a part of the family. But now, six years later, things (and people) from Kurt's past are starting to catch up with him and he learns the hard way that if you can't escape your nightmares, you have to face them. (I know this isn't a very good summary. I suck at writing them.)

A/N: Hi, readers. This is a Klaine fic. There will be boyxboy, so I'm warning you right now. Do not leave mean or rude comments. The first few chapters—I haven't decided how many yet—will span over a few years, then the story will pick up during Kurt's sophomore year and Blaine's junior year at school (I know Blaine is a year younger than Kurt, but I just don't agree with that). I would greatly appreciate any reviews you deign to give me, but suggestions would be greatly appreciated and all suggestions will be considered (I would, or course, give credit where credit is due). I only have a basic outline for the plot down, so I'm flexible. Tell me what you want to see happen with our boys. And now, on to the story!

Of Broken Boys and Silent Songs

Prologue

Lost.

That's how Elijah Hummel felt the night he ran away. Also confused, scared and lonely. He was only ten at the time, too young to really process what was happening to him. He knew what it was called, and he knew that it was wrong, but he also knew that his situation was different from the others he'd looked up in books at the library. Those kids had been good. They hadn't deserved it. In this case, he was in the wrong. It was all his fault. For liking boys. For missing Mommy. For playing with 'girl toys'. Every bruise was a reminder of what a disappointment he was. He got told everyday how he should have been born strong and handsome and liked football and videogames, so why did he need reminders? But that's what Daddy told him they were, and Daddy was never wrong. He was just trying to do what was best for him. He wanted help him get better. He was sick and needed to get better. Daddy told him he would be better when he stopped liking boys, but so far he still thought that the boy who sat in front of him in class was cute, no the bruises kept coming. He knew Daddy was always right, and Daddy said that the pain would help him get better, so he took everything that was thrown at him. He took the bruises, the broken bones, the insults. He never said a word when he showed up to school with his arm in a sling, or covered in poorly concealed bruises, and neither did anyone else. No one noticed and no one cared. But then one night, IT happened. Elijah could feel the large, strong hands wrapped around his neck, choking the life out of him. He could smell the gross brown drink on Daddy's breath. He could hear the deep voice saying, "Why were you singing, you little fag? Real men don't fucking sing. And why is your fucking voice so high. You sound like a little girl. I won't have a fag like you for a son. I'm gonna make it so I don't have to hear your faggoty voice ever again." Elijah had gasped and gasped for air until he couldn't breathe anymore. He'd passed out eventually, but not before he felt his body hit the floor and Daddy amble away, in search of another beer. When he woke up, he was alone. He'd tried to call out for Daddy, but when he'd tried to speak, he'd felt those large hands wrapped around his neck and had heard that deep, throaty voice. "I'm gonna make it so I never have to hear your faggoty voice ever again." So he didn't talk. He simply stood and went to go clean the vomit and empty beer bottles off the floor. And he didn't talk that night, or the next day, nor the next week or month or year. But that was when things changed. Daddy looked at him for a moment, his eyes crusty and glazed over, and said in a voice full of pure loathing, "You killed your mother, you fucking little faggot murderer." That was what it took for Elijah to realize, Maybe Daddy isn't always right after all. Because he'd have never hurt Mommy. She had been his world, the person he could trust with anything. She'd loved him and she'd never hurt him, even after he told her he thought Finn Hudson was really cute. And in his mind, that was that. Daddy was the only person he'd had left, and now he didn't have him anymore. So he walked out of his home, out of his life, and didn't even pause when he passed a sign that read in faded red letters "Welcome to Lima, where everyone is welcome."

So Elijah was on a different path now than he should have been, one that would have led to a troubled but happy life. He would have made great friends and found a place to belong in the McKinley High School glee club, somewhere that he belonged because he was different, not in spite of it. He would have met a boy and fallen in love at first sight. But the instant he set foot out that door with the intent of never coming back, all of that was gone in the blink of an eye. It's fortunate for him that old saying may have some truth to it.

All roads lead to Rome.

Blaine Anderson felt lost too.

He had been born into a very different life than Elijah. He lived in New York City, in the penthouse apartment of one of the finest hotels in the entire city. Everything in the apartment was expensive and rare, so obviously, playing wasn't allowed in the apartment. Blaine wasn't allowed outside without someone to watch him either, and since everyone was always so busy, that rarely ever happened. The nanny his mom hired, Janice, was supposed to take him out when he asked, but she never did. She just sent him to his room so she could play with the boys she invited over. So Blaine's life consisted of sitting alone, reading a book or singing to himself.

That wasn't to say that Blaine came from an unloving family. Blaine's family loved him plenty. His mom just had to work a lot. She hated leaving Blaine alone, but he insisted on it. She liked her job and he didn't want to ruin that for her. He had his big sister, Marissa, but she was way older than him. Five years older. What kind of eleven year old boy wants to play a game with his sixteen year old sister, who had recently discovered the joys of clothes and make up and boys? All (except the last one, when he grew up a little) would never appeal to Blaine. And anyway, why would a sixteen year old girl want to spend her time entertaining her baby brother? Blaine objected to the baby part, but that was what he was to her. There had used to be his older brother, Mark—he'd always been happy enough to entertain Blaine—but he'd left for college this year and Blaine barely got to see him anymore. And there was Reese and Penny, but they were little and that was no fun. His dad was always in Chicago or San Francisco or some other far away place for business, and he wasn't around enough to be missed.

Blaine didn't have any friends to play with anyway, even if the nanny had taken him outside. All of the children at school called him names, names that he didn't even understand. He had no one that he could rely on to say yes to a game of tag or a birthday party. He felt utterly alone in life.

Blaine's mother was good woman. She liked expensive things, sure, and sometimes she could act superior and snobby, but every Tuesday she would strip down to her cheapest clothes and go down to a soup kitchen to volunteer. She sent all of the things that her children outgrew to homeless shelters, where they would be put to good use, maybe even save a life. She donated money to underprivileged teens. She always had the best intentions in her heart. And she was a good mother, too. When Blaine would get hurt as a young child, she would never freak out or yell at him for being careless. She would soothe him until he calmed down, then send him with a band-aid and a kiss. When Marissa, his big sister, had entered her 'rebellious phase' and started dressing in all black and reading sad poems that he didn't understand, she hadn't pulled any stuff about "What would the neighbors think?", or "How could you dress in the garbage?". She had simply told her that she was as beautiful as ever, and that it didn't matter what she wore because her pretty face would always make it look good. And she'd even defended her against the gossipy neighbors who had started locking doors and giving Marissa dirty looks. And soon enough, it was over and Marissa got along even better with their mom. Blaine had always suspected that the phase was some kind of test that teenagers put on and his mom had passed with flying colors.

Therefore, when Blaine began to feel the loneliness weighing in on him, she noticed. It wasn't a phase that would pass, but something that was eating her son away from the inside out. And thus her suggested vacation. She claimed it was so she could shop, but really it was so Blaine could have a small break from the constant bullying that she knew he had to go through at school every day. She had complained to the school countless times, but they had claimed that it was a public school, and so it could do nothing to prevent all its students from being bullied, the homophobic bastards. She of course was furious at the lack of concern for her son's wellbeing, but it was out of her hands. He would endure the same wherever he went.

She, of course, didn't know about Dalton Academy for Boys at the time. Blaine would have already been enrolled for next year if she had. After all, he was almost in middle school, which was the age that boys started to attend Dalton. She wouldn't care that it was expensive; she was wealthy and even if she wasn't, he son's safety was worth all the money in the world. But she was with Penny that day she was headed for the news stand where she was supposed to find a brochure for the prestigious boarding school in Ohio with a strict no-bullying poicy. Penny was a headstrong five year old girl and on that day, she'd decided she wanted ice cream. As her mother had stood there, glancing over the offered merchandise, Penny had tugged on her sleeve relentlessly. "Mommy, I want ice cream! There's a man with ice cream right there! Come on!"

Donna had turned from the stand and smiled down at her youngest. "Why not? Ice cream it is." And she grabbed her daughter's hand and walked away from her son's future.

Blaine Anderson was not going to Dalton Academy, He would not find a place where he could be at home or friends who would accept him for who he was. He wouldn't find the Warbler's, somewhere that he shone like a shooting star. He wouldn't meet a glasz eyed spy on the Dalton staircase.

But Donna Anderson chose her path, and the idea that her son could for the first time in his life feel safe and secure anywhere, even his own home, was lost in a sea of paths and choices to come.

And now her son was lost—literally. They were in Ohio—Westerville, Ohio to be exact. So far, the trip had consisted of going in and out of stores that dotted the area and the large Westerville Mall at the center of the town.

But Donna had noticed that Blaine, being the eleven year old boy that he was, had not been enjoying it. At all. She decided maybe it was time for Blaine to have a little fun. The trip was for him after all. And so Donna was taking Blaine to the park. When she told him, he was delighted and chattered the whole way there. Donna smiled as she listened to his excited rambling. Normally Blaine was very subdued and it was nice to see him this excited over something. Then she frowned for a moment. She really had to do something about that school.

Little did she know her son's life was about to get a little shove in the right direction. Blaine Anderson was about to find Kurt Hummel.

So what do you think? Should I continue? R&R, please!