BLAINE

The morning sunlight trickled through the pale curtains, emitting warmth and radiance unlike Blaine was used to. The sweet bliss trailed over his body, gently prodding and waking him from his stupor. Blinking slowly, his eyes readjusted to the brilliant light, and he couldn't help but blatantly stare at the sight in front of him.

Curled up on the windowsill with his hands gingerly wrapped around a mug, Kurt stared out the pane, a look filled with a mixture of sadness and longing. The sight tore at Blaine's heart, who related far too well to the melancholy of the former's current predicament. He couldn't imagine how or why the other was in this room, a prisoner confined to these four walls. But the bittersweet look in Kurt's eyes confirmed that there was far more to the story, likely more than Blaine would ever get the chance to hear. And, for some apparent reason, that bothered him more than just about anything else.

"You can talk, you know. I don't bite," Kurt said, startling Blaine entirely. The sudden noise caused Blaine to jump, his knee knocking a few of his belongings off his bedside table. Cursing quietly at the throbbing pain in his leg, he stooped down to retrieve the items.

Smiling in spite of himself, Kurt said, "Here, let me," and reached down, picking up an aged leather notebook. Blaine's heart skipped a beat, and without thinking he reached forward and tugged it out of the other's grasp. Kurt's eyes widened in surprise, but said nothing. Yet, his eyes betrayed his shock, and he quickly shrugged back on his guard, turning instead to resume his position on the window seat.

Realizing his mistake, Blaine made a mental note to kick himself later for his stupidity. Taking a step uncertainly toward Kurt he stopped right behind him, steadying himself. "Hey," he said, resting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. What he was prepared for was to explain his previous action. He wasn't, however, prepared for Kurt lashing out, turning around and pinning him to the wall. Blaine gasped audibly as he felt his back slam up against the solid wood. The look in Kurt's eyes was wild, a mixture of fear and anger. Breathing heavily, Kurt glared daggers at Blaine, daring him to make another move. Slowly, he began to ease his grip, hissing "Don't touch me. Ever."

Blaine nodded vigorously, his own heart beating a mile a minute. Freed from Kurt's grasp, he stood frozen, not daring to move an inch. "Kurt-Kurt, I'm sorry".

"Look Blaine, forget it!" Kurt yelled, whipping around and pointing at the boy. "You heard what I said, and I mean it. I don't want you to ever touch me again. Okay?"

Fighting against the hot tears brimming (and why was he even crying?), he nodded, settling back in bed.

The minutes dragged along, nothing but the quiet hum of the radiator heard in the room. Sighing, Blaine reached for the notebook. Uncapping a pen, he began to scribble, only occasionally glancing up to look at Kurt.

About fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and a nurse stepped in, a tentative smile greeting the two. "I just came to check on the two of you, and to remind you that the rec center is open today." She noticed the rigid composure the two boys wore and sighed. "I'm not trying to push either of you to do anything you wouldn't like…but perhaps it'd be a nice break. Meet some new people. Have some fun. There's games, and a tv, and a piano….Just let me know if you're interested."

"Thank you-Maria," Blaine said, craning his neck to read her nametag. "I'll keep it in mind."

KURT

After a few more awkward minutes and a glare from Kurt here and there since the nurse left, Blaine mumbled incoherently about seeing if the piano was free, hopping off the bed and heading out the door. The slam shook the bed frame, once more knocking the notebook off the table. Shaking his head in exasperation, Kurt buried his head between his knees, not surprised when the tears began trailing down his cheeks.

He knew he shouldn't have snapped earlier, and knew that any explanation would make him sound even more bizarre. What could he say? That the last time someone had grabbed him, it'd only ended in dumpster tosses and beatings? No. He couldn't do it. He couldn't willingly bring himself to explain that to anyone, no less than another teenage boy he hardly knew.

So why did it bother him so badly? Why did he feel even emptier now that Blaine was gone? Regardless of what, it was as if a whole had been punched through his chest, winding him. Gasping, he struggled to gain his composure. He couldn't allow himself to break down, especially now, where everyone was acutely aware of how unstable he was to begin with. He had to be strong, even if it meant faking it. The saner he appeared, the quicker he could get out.

But when he'd get out, where would he go? It was the moments like these, where Kurt so desperately wished he could escape his life. He yearned for nothing more than to jump out of his own life, out of his own skin.

Cracking open the window, he relished in the cool air that fanned his face, the sweet scent of freedom that he'd been deprived off for too long. With it came an unusual sense of peace, a calming presence. Trudging back and climbing into bed, he nuzzled his face into his pillow and dozed off into a more secure sleep, filled with dreams of his mother and childhood simplicity and delicate hands gracing piano keys. And, in the privacy of his visions, he smiled slightly, the tearstains beginning to fade.

The breeze coursing through the room ruffled the pages of Blaine's notebook on the floor. Flickering through a couple times, the book opened up to a fresh entry from that morning. In careful script, it read;

5-17-10

I woke up today, and I was convinced I was in heaven. I'm not sure I necessarily believe in one, but I'm positive an angel had visited me. He had eyes as blue as the sea and a smile that acted as a beacon of light, guiding me from the bleakness of reality. Maybe there isn't a Heaven. But...with someone as magnificent as him…I'd like to believe there is. I dunno why he's here, trapped behind these prison walls. And, after his outburst today, perhaps it's far worse than I could have feared. And yet, I want to know. I want to help him, even in the most trivial way possible. There's something about him, something I need. Maybe it's just his beauty. Maybe it's so much more than that. All I know is that I want to know every shadowy corner and nook and cranny that completes Kurt. It terrifies me that I care so deeply over someone I've not even known a whole day. And I'm scared…so scared. But somehow, I believe that life would be far more frightening if I didn't meet him.

I just…I want him. Not in any sexual pretense or innuendo. I just want to see him and touch him and know that he's real, not just a figment of a wild imagination.

I need him to be real.

-Blaine