Sadness touches everyone. Even the ones who shouldn't be sad at all.
"It's not the which is isn't it, but maybe that which is it, and suddenly it is not which it once was."
It began not like other stories, in that it lacks a beginning. There's no telling where it starts nor where it ends. But if a story lacks a beginning than it isn't a story is it? So we must begin where the light had yet to enter the darkness, the darkness that never ends.
He was a timid child. Not in what he said or did. But in what he lacked.
He lacked a voice. A purpose. A sense of soul that all humans should have ingrained in them when they emerge into this lonely world.
But he was timid.
And he could not find his way through the darkness. No matter how much he cried. No matter how much the lonely was suffocating. No matter how many times he drew pictures of families. No matter how many times he wished on the first twinkling of stars. No matter how many times he thought, wished, drew, and even prayed. He lacked a voice but he also lacked something else.
He lacked a family.
A mother's touch. A father's strong grip. A brother's protection. And a sister's word. A dog that barked and a house that creaked. He thought, drew, and wished. But none of these things ever came to him.
He used to think they would never come. The guardians and the kids used to tease him. How dare he wish for something when he couldn't even speak? How dare he say he wanted a family when there were others who did not have one? How dare he put himself above some of the younger orphans or even the older ones?
But it didn't make the hurt any less painful or any less real. His soul was still lost and he still cried on the days when the others cornered him and called him a baby as stubborn and frustrated tears trailed down his cheeks. Said he was selfish and stupid for crying for a mommy.
He would always sink into the corner and put his hands over his ears. Thinking of the family that would never come. The family that he would never touch, feel, see, or hear.
He couldn't even called for them if he wanted to. He soon grew tired and hopeless. So very angrily he thought,
Who needs a family anyways?
It was a very dreary Saturday afternoon.
Saturday's were open house days.
It was always painful.
Hopeful people came and went through the doors, usually with a lovely little kid holding their hands. A mommy and daddy to call their own. Wide grins on their faces, stepping into the light.
But it was dreary that day and the rain was pounding against the orphanage's windows. Tapping to the tick of a young boy's sorrowful heartbeat. He wasn't very hopeful that day. Nobody ever wanted the kid without a voice.
He sat in the corner, tucked away into the welcoming darkness. The darkness had never rejected him. Had never looked at him in pity or passiveness. Had never said he was selfish for wanting. But now he no longer wanted.
He just no longer felt the need for hope.
One of the guardians came into the playroom then. A couple of bright-eyed adults trailing after her. She spoke to them.
"This is class B. These children are ages eight to twelve. You can interact with them and get to know some of them." She turned to the eager group of children and the child in the corner. "On your best behavior now. Remember the rules and the consequences."
She led the adults further in the room and they dispersed. The guardian stood beside the doorway, ready to help in any way.
He looked down. Trying to prevent the dull sense of eagerness rising within his chest. Nobody wants him. It was fact. Like the sky is blue and the sun is hot. Or the rain is cold outside and soon it will be Christmas. Another Christmas alone.
"Hey, buddy."
His head shot up. Nobody talked to him. Nobody-
Who is this strange man?
The man had a wide grin on his face. His huge hazel eyes were filled with warmth and his curly black hair more or less tamed. He smiled so brightly and warmly that he may have well been the shining sun. He knelt in front of him.
The boy didn't know what to do.
"My name's Blaine."
The man said his name as he stuck out his hand. The child stared at it, knowing he was supposed to shake it but couldn't help it when all he could do was blink. And just breathe.
Why was this man talking to him?
The man's smile stretched on. "Okay well, I assure you I may look like I'm crazy but I swear the curls are only because the rain is evil and-"
"Really Blaine? Evil rain?"
Blaine looked up at the man standing behind him. The boy stared at the other strange man. His coffee cream colored hair standing to perfection. His bright blue eyes and tiny smile disguised as a smirk.
"Kuuurt. The rain ruined my hair."
The tall man, Kurt, rolled his eyes. "I think you look amazing. Besides you know how much I love your curls."
"I know. You practically hide my gel from me."
Kurt gasped. "I would never. And it's not my fault that you forgot the umbrella I told you to grab."
"It's okay. I was just looking for an excuse to have you run your fingers through my hair."
"Mhm. Sure."
Blaine's smile, if possible, got even wider.
The boy looked in dazed wonderment at the strange people in front of him. Even if they weren't talking to him, he felt warm and light. These two men were warm and so very bright. They didn't look at him like he was a drowned puppy left on the side of the street.
They looked at him like he was someone.
Kurt knelt next to Blaine. His soft blue eyes filled with light and thoughts of comfort. Like a gentle wind that sways the trees.
"So what's your name, kiddo?"
It was said softly and encouraging. The boy didn't know what to do. Nobody did this. Why now of all days did the light have to come? He couldn't even speak and the light had come without warning. The boy felt hot stinging tears slide down his cheeks. Frustration welling up inside him.
"Woah buddy it's okay."
Warmth. Blaine was hugging him. He felt warm and like... Was this what family was supposed to feel like? The arms wrapped around him were so comforting and he wondered about a father. A father's arms.
Blaine let go, then. The boy sniffled but did not cry out in protest. Crying was a sign of weakness. He felt so very pathetic.
"His name is Greyson."
The guardian stood behind him. Greyson shrunk inside of himself. They would find out soon enough. His weakness and his hurt.
Kurt looked at the guardian and then Greyson. He then started signing. Greyson stared. Nobody had done that before. Greyson shook his head.
"He can hear, but he can't speak."
"Okay." Blaine said as he stood. Kurt stood as well. Greyson would not cry as they left him. He would not. The dull ache in his chest began to throb.
But then a hand was in his face.
Greyson looked up at Blaine. A hopeful look.
Greysone took Blaine's hand led him to a table. Kurt followed, smiling at his... Who was Kurt to Blaine? Were they married? If Blaine was the daddy was Kurt the mommy?
Maybe they were both daddies.
Greyson sat next to Blaine. He had a piece of paper and a pencil in front of him.
Blaine looked at him, warm hazel eyes.
"Hi, I'm Blaine. What's your name, buddy?"
Greyson stared on in shock. Before he quickly scribbled down his name.
"I like that name." Kurt spoke on the other side of Greyson.
Greyson smiled. Kurt and Blaine were definitely not nobody.
They talked for awhile. Greyson scribbling and Kurt and Blaine talking. To him. They were talking to him. They called him by his name. They listened to him or at least paid attention to his writing. They smiled at him.
Kurt then smiled at Blaine and nodded. Blaine smiled back.
They were strange, indeed.
After half an hour, Kurt called the guardian over.
"I believe we would like to take Greyson with us."
Greyson looked at the both of them in disbelief. Why? How? When nobody wanted him? What had he done to deserve this... this light. It was all so very warm and bright and Greyson didn't know if he could prevent himself from crying again.
The guardian looked at them in astonishment. "But, sirs, he isn't- He doesn't-"
"I believe me and my husband have come to a decision," Blaine spoke. Greyson didn't care that he was smiling like a big dork and tearing up.
Blaine took his hand and Kurt the other, as they were led out of the doors. There were many papers and some waiting. But Kurt and Blaine (Dads?...) talked to him. Played with him. Kurt even taught him a bit of signing. So that he could talk to them.
It was weird and almost surreal.
Kurt was scolding Blaine about the forgotten umbrella, because of the downpour. But as they walked closer and closer to the doors. Greyson couldn't help smiling like a big goof. He didn't care.
He had found the light after all.
((My silly little headcanon on Kurt and Blaine adopting their first child))