Author's Note: Hi there! Thanks for taking the time to read this. Here are a couple of things you should know first:

1. Characters in this story might seem a little bit OOC at first, but that's because I believe that experiences change and shape you into the person you become. By the end it'll make sense, I promise.

2. This story is in Kurt's POV and therefore the first chapters will have severe lack of Blaine as Kurt's backstory is revealed. This will then lead up to their first meeting (in Chapter 7). There are also a few OCs as well as characters you'll recognize later on.

3. Currently I've written almost 10 chapters of this story with the plot all figured out so updates will be once or twice a week. I want to keep a few chapters ahead so that I have more to update even if I have lack of inspiration.

Also, if you've been waiting for the sequel to The Chains That Keep Us Together, that's still happening, but I've been busy lately (I fractured my wrist and my laptop completely died on multiple occasions) and I want to get some more of that written before I start posting it. I just so happened to get more inspiration for this.

Warnings: Implied character death, may be slightly upsetting to some readers (but it gets better!).

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. All mistakes are mine.

Happy reading! :D

Keep Your Enemies Closer

1. Where It All Started

My life was always complicated.

My mom died when I was just eight years old. It was a car crash; a complete accident. At least, that's what they told me. I loved my mom, she was never around much when I was younger, neither was my dad, but the time that we did spend together as a family was nothing short of perfect.

Elizabeth Hummel worked for a company that arranged holidays and trips for groups; school children, clubs, the disabled, the elderly, etcetera. This meant that she had to be away a lot to sort things out. Burt Hummel was a mechanic. He went away a lot for conferences, conventions, that sort of thing. Or so they said.

My parents were never away at the same time. They had been once, when I was four, but I'd apparently been left with smelly Aunt Mildred and had cried for the whole two weeks they were gone.

When Mom died, it got even worse. Dad still needed to be away a lot and he wasn't very good around the house, which was when he hired Jamie. She was kind of like the housekeeper, but without the official title.

Jamie Clarke had moved away from England to try and find a life for herself in America, no one ever thought to question why she'd picked Ohio and not somewhere more glamorous. But Jamie, although young, was great to me and took good care of the house. She wasn't messy and she didn't drink, smoke or bring rowdy friends round to the house. She was perfect.

I grew to love Jamie as a friend and was already used to not having my dad around all the time. It wasn't really the ideal life and I missed having Mom there, but it got easier with time. I still had my dad and I knew that Jamie was there for me, so life was good.

But of course, life was never going to stay that way forever…

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"Hey kid, do you think you could-?"

"Charlie, I know what you're trying to do. This is the fifth time you've asked me to get you something that I know for a fact you don't need. If you want to speak to your girlfriend then call her already. Stop the secret texting. I'm not my dad, I'm not gonna shout at you for using your phone here." I rolled my eyes.

I was thirteen years old, I wasn't an idiot. I'd been helping out at the garage long enough to know what the other mechanics were up to. I used to sit in the office all day watching them when there were no repairs small enough for me to do. It was fun; people watching.

"Nothing gets past you kid, does it?" Charlie laughed, ruffling my hair. Charlie was a happy man who had worked at the garage for years. He was the kind of person that you never saw depressed or upset; he always had a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eye.

"Hey!" I protested and batted the hand away. Why did everyone seem to have a thing for doing that to me? It was irritating.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll just be five minutes I swear." Charlie promised, already backing away to make his phone call in private.

"Just go! I can handle this." I assured him, shooing the man away.

"I don't doubt you can. Thanks Kurt!" Then he was gone.

I sighed; I'd been helping out with the cars for as long as I could remember anyway, it was like second nature to me. I just wished that people would stop treating me like a kid. I was thirteen; technically I was a teenager anyway.

Working at the garage was fun. Some of the stories people had as to how they'd caused the damage to their cars were hilarious. Also, it was just something for me to do.

Being an only child, I didn't have very much to do with my time. There was no one around at home to do anything with and there was no one at school that I'd class as my friend. Everyone detested me and I was bullied for being different. I hadn't come out to anyone about being gay and yet somehow the whole of school had found out. Even people a couple of years younger than me were harsh.

So what if I liked show tunes and musicals and fashion? Why did that make me any less of a person than everyone else? Of course, the kids at school didn't do anything that I'd class as serious, but that wasn't the point. Being shoved into lockers and being thrown offensive slurs wasn't exactly normal. Yet otherwise I was simply ignored. No one spoke to me, no one cared.

In the whole world, I only had Jamie, my dad and the people at the garage that cared of my existence. For anybody, let alone a thirteen-year-old kid, that had to hurt.

I may have been quite stereotypically gay, but I fixed cars and I watched sports with my dad whenever I could. I didn't pretend to understand whatever I was watching, and I didn't really pay attention because I wasn't that keen on football, but I watched it to spend time with my dad. Those times were becoming even fewer.

Lately, Burt had been spending more and more time away from home. There was always something. First it was a get together with some of his old friends from college, then it was a high school reunion, now Dad was away to see some great uncle or something that I knew absolutely nothing about. It was getting ridiculous.

I understood that my dad had a life and would need to be other places, to see other people apart from me. Of course I understood that, that was fine. But I didn't understand why it was all the time. It was just…it was stupid, and I knew it was stupid, but I just had this feeling sometimes that…well it was like my dad was just making excuses.

But it was more than that. I felt like my dad was purposely making excuses not to see me. It was ridiculous, it was my dad and I loved him, but the feeling just wouldn't go away. The worst part was that I didn't understand what I was supposed to have done wrong.

I was a good kid, that's what people always told me. I was mature for my age and I would help out my dad with the garage and Jamie with the work around the house. Even though it wasn't asked of from me, I'd do it. I always helped them out and never complained.

Although a lot of things were going on in my life, I somehow managed to carry on with everyday things. I was strong like that, but I had to be. If I wasn't strong I'd fall apart.

Things so far that day had been pretty average. I'd got up, had breakfast with Jamie, showered, changed and gone straight to the garage. What else was I going to do? Unfortunately, so far there were no funny stories, and only common, simple repairs to do this morning. Nevertheless I wasn't going to complain to that, not today.

Today I was waiting for a phone call from Dad. He hadn't spoken to me in a few days and I wanted to hear his voice again. I loved Jamie, and spending time with her was fun, but I really wanted to see my dad. I missed him. That's when the phone rang.

I raced to the phone as fast as I could and put the phone to my ear before so much as even taking a breath. I was just that excited.

"Dad?" I asked, already knowing the answer. I was kind of breathless.

"Hey kiddo, how are you?" There was something about just hearing my dad's voice that made me instantly feel happy and safe.

"I'm good, how are you? How are things there?" These were pretty basic questions but I doubted that my dad would have time to actually listen to me. It was better to keep the conversation brief.

"…Huh? Oh yeah, yeah it's great."

"Are you okay? You sound sort of distracted." I frowned. Dad usually paid at least some attention to me.

"No I'm fine." Burt reassured, though it sounded rushed and completely unconvincing. There was some kind of noise in the background that I couldn't place, it was better just to ignore it.

"Right," I said, though it was posed as more of a question. "So you're coming home today, aren't you?"

"I should be. I'll try to get back some time tonight. I love you, Kurt." That roughly translated as 'I doubt it. I could be back but you better not get your hopes up. I love you but I'm only really saying that as a sign that I need to get off the phone now.'

Unfortunately, I was used to this by now. It was something of a regular occurrence.

"Oh, yeah, love you too Dad. See you later I guess." He had already hung up the phone before I could finish the last sentence.

I sighed and slumped into the office chair. The first time I'd gotten to speak to my dad in days and the phone call lasted less than a minute. Well that's just great I thought sarcastically. Why were there always such abrupt endings to everything in my life?

When my mom died, I thought that I'd be okay as long as I had my dad. That was what some creepy therapist had told me; it was just the two of us versus the world. Yet it seemed like we'd grown even further apart, not closer together. My dad's trips had become more frequent and lasted for longer, so we hardly even had a chance to talk.

The rest of my day at the garage seemed to go by as a bit of a blur, but it was agonizingly slow at the same time. Charlie tried to joke with me as usual but I could only give a weak smile in return, I wasn't really in the mood for laughing anymore.

-Keep Your Enemies Closer-

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked, remerging from where I had been trapped in my own thoughts. I was sat at the table with Jamie, supposedly eating my dinner. I didn't really feel like eating right then, so I was actually just moving the food around my plate with a fork.

"You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying have you?" Jamie asked, her head tilted to the side slightly. After having lived in America for five years by then her English accent wasn't as strong as it used to be, but it was still noticeable.

Jamie had auburn hair in curls down just past her shoulders (natural, of course) and kind green eyes. She was pretty in a not overly obvious way and never wore make-up. She was quite geeky actually; always reading and not going out very often like most people her age, but she was a great listener and good to talk to.

"I'm sorry." I apologized again, even though there wasn't really a reason to.

"Is this about your dad again?" She sighed upon seeing the look on my face, dropping her cutlery. "You shouldn't let it get to you. That's just the way he is."

"I know, I just…" I finally looked up from the plate and looked her in the eye. "He's so distant. I feel like I hardly know him anymore."

"It'll get better. Kurt, I've known you for five years and you're a great kid. Your dad loves you, just because he goes away a lot doesn't mean that he doesn't care about you."

"I guess. But, sometimes I really wish I knew what was going on his head, you know? I wish I knew what he really thought of me." But more than anything I wished that I got to spend more time with him.

"Look Kurt, if it's bothering you so much then you should talk to your dad when he gets back. Spend some more time together; get to know each other more. You know your dad will talk to you if you need him. He cares about you, and he can't help not being around a lot." Jamie reasoned.

She was right, of course, but it didn't mean that I didn't still have my doubts. I decided to be quiet now and not say anymore on the matter. What help would it be?

"I guess you're right. Yeah, I'll talk to him." I nodded; it seemed like a reasonable idea. Why not?

"I'm always right. Now come on Kurt, where's that smile of yours?" She ducked her head to try and catch my eyes and I did smile, despite my mood. It was small, but it was genuine. "There it is!" She teased. "Now eat, I don't make this food for nothing."

I shook my head at the silliness of her actions but obeyed anyway.

"Now, like I was saying before…" Jamie launched off in a grand tale of the day's events and I let myself daydream as she did. Jamie was lovely but she could speak at a mile a minute, she wouldn't actually notice if I wasn't listening.

I decided that I should talk to my dad. I knew him enough to know that he wouldn't be making me feel this way on purpose. Maybe if I just spoke to him about it…

I didn't know what I wanted to happen from me speaking to him; I had no expectations at all. But at least that way I couldn't be disappointed, and I'm sure things between us couldn't get any worse. After thinking this I tuned back into Jamie's one sided conversation.

"…So I've just come out of this shop and my hands are so full of bags that I can't even raise my arms properly. Then this old woman comes out of nowhere, no shopping at all, and expects me to open the door for her just because she's elderly. I smirk, open the door for her, with great difficulty may I add, and then I decide I'm not that nice and I let it slam in the bitch's face!" Jamie told me excitedly.

"You did what?" I laughed.

"Well who does she think she is? She didn't have a walking stick, a crutch or anything, with me having that many bags she was more able to open the door than me! Also…"

For the rest of the night I listened obediently to Jamie's crazy stories, happy for the distraction. My life may have been far from perfect, but in that moment I was happy.

…And then that moment ended.

"Kurt, maybe you should go to bed now. It's getting late." Jamie said hesitantly. I was huddled up on a chair in the front room with a blanket around my legs. I'd been staring at the window for the last half an hour, waiting for the flash of headlights that would tell me that my dad was home. It wasn't looking good.

"Just another five minutes." I mumbled weakly. My eyes were starting to ache and droop and my voice was cracking from tiredness. If nothing happened soon I wasn't going to be awake for much longer. Dad wasn't usually this late home.

"Kurt you've been saying that for ages, just go up and go to sleep. I'm sure your dad will be back when you wake up. Torturing yourself isn't going to make him get here any faster. You need sleep." Jamie said calmly, she was always the voice of reason.

"'M fine," I muttered, my head rocking forward as I almost fell asleep there and then.

"Bed, Kurt. Now," There wasn't any point in protesting, I was struggling to stay awake. I dragged myself upstairs and practically collapsed on my bed.

Despite my tiredness I couldn't fall asleep. My restless mind made my whole body restless and no matter how many times I shifted and turned I just couldn't get comfortable and fall asleep. Soon I was more awake than ever.

I couldn't stop thinking about my dad –about everything that was bothering me. Eventually I was just thinking about everything, there was nothing that didn't cross my mind. My head was driving me crazy and I willed for my mind to shut up. It was hours before I got to sleep.

When I did wake up, I wished I hadn't. I woke when I heard knocking at the door. It wasn't inconsistent, intoxicated messing around though; it was precise, short raps on the wood. There were no drunken slurs in the background; I couldn't hear any voices from my bedroom. Whoever was knocking was doing it with intent and reason.

The silence that followed was unnerving. Groaning I turned to my alarm clock and the lit digits told me it was a little after four in the morning. When you get visitors at that time it is never a good thing. I heard shuffling and a door closing and presumed that Jamie had gotten up and was already heading downstairs. There was no way I was going back to sleep so I threw off my covers and forced myself to get up.

I rubbed my eyes with my palms and plodded along the hallway. I was halfway downstairs when I heard it.

"Hello Miss, I'm sorry to come knocking at this hour, but would I be right in assuming that this is the house of Mr. Burt Hummel? Also, that you are Miss Jamie Clarke?" The voice was formal and stiff, with an air of importance.

"Yes, you would." Jamie answered politely, although there was an edge of suspicion in her tone.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news considering the whereabouts of Mr. Hummel, if you would be so kind as to invite me in. You might want to sit down."

No. No, no, no, no, no. No. My hand was gripping onto the banister so hard that I was scared that it would snap. But it wasn't my main concern. He didn't even have to say the words, it was all in his tone, and I knew what had happened. Yet at the same time I willed it not to be true. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

Already tears were pricking at my eyes, threatening to fall. But it was stupid, I told myself, Dad was fine. He'd be staying in a hotel somewhere. He was fine. He wasn't… I couldn't even bring myself to think the word.

"I'm fine standing thank you." Jamie said calmly. Clearly her thoughts weren't on the same trail as mine. "Would you care to tell me what is going on?"

"Miss Clarke, I'm sorry to inform you that Burt Hummel…" He was fine. He was fine. My dad was okay. He was in a hotel and he was fine. He was- "Mr. Hummel is dead."

I don't even know what happened next. One minute I was standing on the stairs trying to convince myself that everything was okay, and the next my knees gave way and I collapsed in a heap. I just couldn't stop crying. It couldn't be true, it simply couldn't. My dad wasn't dead. There'd been a mistake.

My whole body was shaking and I somehow managed to keep quiet. I was silently sobbing and every thought I'd had over the last couple of weeks was floating around my head at such a pace that I instantly had a headache. Everything ached.

Memories of Dad kept flashing through my mind which just made me cry even harder. The effort it was taking was making it difficult to breathe but at that moment I could do nothing but think irrationally and just cry.

I can honestly say that I have never cried so hard in my entire life. Not even when Mom died. My coping mechanism when that had happened was my dad, and now I didn't even have him. I'd never felt so alone and so helpless. And it hurt, so much. It physically hurt. It hurt so freakin' much that I couldn't even comprehend it.

It was all pain and agony and tears and I was still crying when the man left and Jamie went to walk up the stairs. She didn't even know I was there. I had no idea how long I'd been sat there crying.

"Oh Kurt," She said with her voice thick with emotion. "I am so sorry." It wasn't going to be the last time that I heard those words but I knew that she meant it. She sat- no, collapsed next to me and held me in her arms while I cried, which was for a very long time.

But thinking back, I know why I was so quiet. Children cry for attention, little kids will fall and scrape their knee and burst into tears just so that they'll be fussed over, that's why they scream and wail. Silent crying is different. People cry silently simply because they are unable to stop.

End Author's Note: I'd appreciate any feedback or comments you guys could offer. I love hearing your opinions so please leave a review. Thanks!