"How did I get here?"

It's a simple question, really. It's the kind of question that he should be able to answer without hesitation and yet, he honestly cannot recall. How had this become his life? What had led him to this point? As he struggled through the foggy memories (were they even really memories?) there was only one thing that he was sure of:

Kurt.

For months, Blaine spent every waking moment focused on Kurt. He was the most important person in Blaine's life. Every action he took, every decision he made, he did so with Kurt in mind. How could he not? His parents, his brother, his friends, none of them cared about Blaine. Not really, anyway. But Kurt…Kurt was different. Kurt was the only person he needed. Kurt was his everything. Kurt was his salvation.

No one understood what Kurt meant to Blaine. No one even tried. Whenever he would mention Kurt's name to his friends, they would just shake their heads or roll their eyes. How could they not get it? They're just jealous, Blaine would tell himself. None of them have what he has with Kurt. None of them have found true love. They couldn't possibly comprehend it. They were all scared; Blaine could see it in their eyes. It was always the briefest of flashes, hardly even noticeable, but it was there. But of course they were scared. Love is terrifying, he would tell himself. It would take a fool to not be frightened by the idea of completely giving yourself to another human being, heart and soul.

Eventually, he gave up on trying to make everyone else in his life understand the bond that he and Kurt shared. Their relationship was strong. It didn't need to be justified to anyone else. They knew how they felt about one another and that was enough for Blaine. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but the love that Kurt felt for him, nothing but the touch of Kurt's hand on his cheek, nothing but the fleeting feeling of warm lips pressing gently against his own, barely there and yet completely overwhelming all at once. Nothing mattered but this.

They spent what felt like years locked in Blaine's apartment, completely wrapped up in one another. Blaine didn't even know what day it was, all he knew was that Kurt was there and that was all he would ever need. Visits from his family and friends became fewer and farther between. He couldn't blame them. He didn't really want them there anyway. All they ever tried to do was convince Blaine that this relationship was unhealthy and that he needed help. How could they believe that? Why couldn't they see that Kurt was the only stable part of his life? The more they pushed Blaine to get help, the further he retreated into Kurt's warm embrace. Everything would be okay as long as Kurt's arms were wrapped around him, protecting him from everyone who tried to tear them apart.

He thought that they would be fine. He thought that if they left the outside world alone, that it would do the same for them. He truly believed that until that day; the day that it all crumbled before his very eyes. His mother dropped by unannounced, as usual. Her manners were impeccable when it came to country clubs and social events, but she had absolutely no tact at all when it came to her own family. 'Of course,' Blaine scoffed to himself, 'just what I need.'

The visit started out pleasant enough, they always did. All of the usual questions were thrown his way.

"How are you feeling?" "Are you eating enough?" "Have you been taking your medication?"

That was the breaking point. It always was. He didn't need pills. He wasn't fucking crazy. Why couldn't anyone understand that? He knew how the conversation would go from there. He would tell his mother that she should go. She would tell him that he shouldn't be alone at a time like this. He would remind her that he wasn't alone and that Kurt was perfectly capable of taking care of him. She would storm out. It was always the same.

But something was different that day. Maybe he was slightly more forceful with her. Maybe she was just a bit more high-strung than usual. Whatever the reason, his mother refused to back down this time. Blaine was not prepared for the next words that left her mouth.

"He isn't real."

Blaine felt like someone physically punched him in the stomach. How could she say that? What could she possibly think she was accomplishing by spitting such vicious lies at him? The room started spinning and he felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn't even look at her. He turned and ran toward the bathroom, ignoring her protests, and locked himself inside. As soon as the door slammed shut, he fell against it and crumpled into a broken heap on the floor. He could hear her banging on the door, begging him to open it, but he didn't care. He felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on him. Why couldn't the world just let him be happy? The last things he remembered before everything went black were the perfect glow of Kurt's face and the sharp sting of the blade on his wrist. "They can't touch us," he promised, more to himself than Kurt. "They won't keep us apart."

And so here he is, restrained to a hospital bed in a far-too-white room, still having no comprehension of how he could have possibly ended up here. Nothing about this makes any sense. Time has lost all meaning. Blaine has no idea how long he has been here, wherever here is. The white walls all blend together, as do the days, but he can only hope that every breath he takes brings him one step closer to getting out of this prison and back to Kurt. Back to someone who will hold him and tell him that everything will be all right. Back where he belongs.

Hours (days? weeks?) passed by. Doctors came and went, making sure to leave far too high a dosage of medication behind before they moved on to their next victims. His court-appointed therapist tried to get him to talk about it, but he didn't know what 'it' was. How could he talk about something when he didn't even understand it? All that he knew was that nothing was okay anymore. Kurt was gone, ripped away from him right when he needed someone the most. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Eventually, Blaine started telling the doctors what they wanted to hear. Maybe it was the meds. Maybe he was just so tired of fighting. Maybe he had just given up. Whatever the reason, he told them that Kurt was never really there, that he made it all up in his head. He was torn between laughing and crying at the absurdity of it all. How could they believe this? How could anyone believe that someone as wonderful as Kurt was a figment of Blaine's fucked up imagination? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't even begin to dream up someone as perfect as Kurt, but if that's what these doctors needed to hear to finally let him go, then that's what he would say. He isn't real.

In the beginning, it physically pained him to say it out loud, but after saying it so many times, Blaine almost started to believe it. It was still a ridiculous notion, but there was that nagging voice in the back of his mind, whispering "What if I really am crazy?" He brushed those thoughts away as quickly as he could, but the longer he remained in this place, the more difficult they were to ignore. How could so many people be wrong? How could he continue to believe something that everyone else found so absurd that they would lock him up in an institution just to make him stop believing it? What if they were right?

As conflicted as he was, Blaine continued to improve as far as the doctors were concerned. Maybe he believed them, maybe he didn't. Maybe in the end, it didn't matter. One way or another, Kurt was gone and Blaine had to learn to live with that. He became more social with the other patients. He stopped skipping therapy sessions. He took his pills without any argument. He was getting better, whatever that meant.

When the doctors finally signed his release forms, he expected to be ecstatic. He was finally being given the one thing he wanted most and yet, he just felt numb. He was allowed to go home, but there wouldn't be anyone there waiting for him. There wouldn't be anyone to hold him together when he felt like falling apart. He was alone.

He slowly made his way down the front steps of the hospital, what little belongings he had with him in a small duffle bag over his shoulder. He headed in the direction of the bus stop a few blocks away, his face completely void of any emotion. He absentmindedly rubbed his fingers over the scars on his wrist as he walked. He's not sure when he picked up that nervous habit, but it's comforting on some strange level. Having a reminder of his lowest point reminded him that there was nowhere to go but up, no matter how helpless or lost he may feel.

When he finally reached the bus stop, he slumped onto the bench and waited. Three buses came and went, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He was in no rush to get back home to his lonely apartment that held nothing but bad memories anymore. As the fourth bus began pulling away from the curb, he vaguely noticed a well-dressed man running toward the stop, but he was too late. The bus was already on its way. The man groaned in frustration and dropped down onto the bench beside Blaine. 'Poor guy,' he thought to himself, 'He looks like he has somewhere important to be.' He's not sure why he finds himself caring about this stranger's bad luck, but he brushes it off.

Suddenly, a voice broke Blaine out of his thoughts. "Excuse me, I hate to bother you, but do you happen to know when the next bus is scheduled to arrive?" The voice is so painfully familiar and yet strange at the same time. Blaine is afraid to move. After too long a pause, the man added on, "It's no big deal if you don't, I was just wondering…" The stranger's sentence slowly tapered off as Blaine finally found the courage to face him. Blaine simply stared at the beautiful boy in front of him. It had been so long since he saw that perfect face, but how could he ever forget it? Nothing about this made any sense, but he didn't care. The other man seemed to be just as lost in thought as he was. After a few moments, the man squinted his eyes a bit and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you look really familiar. Have we met?"

Blaine slowly snapped himself out of his state of shock just enough to shake his head no. "I don't think so…" He gathered every bit of courage he could muster and held out his hand. "My name's Blaine."

The stranger took the hand that was offered to him and simply said "…Kurt."

Blaine let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. Maybe he would be all right after all.