NOTE: Hey, everyone. I'm so sorry for the delay, a lot has been going on. But I bring forth a peace offering. This chapter has two halves – Part 1 will be the main part of the story. Part 2 will be flash backs (I'm not going to say WHAT flash backs, I'll let you read on to find out). Enjoy!

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Part one – Irony.

The servants were busily preparing for the guests of which they had only just been informed of. Honestly, this mansion only functions because of the servants. God help the privileged and pampered pigs if they ever find themselves needing to graft for a living. Although, it was comforting to know that not everyone in the mansion was so prejudice. Blaine Anderson had been continuingly showing his gratitude towards the servants and, with the help of Kurt, the other servants were able to put their pride aside and accept the help offered to them.

The dry heat in the kitchen was suffocating, and the chaos threatened to knock Kurt down repeatedly. It certainly was difficult being the youngest servant, especially on the busy days. Little was known to Kurt about the family visiting, all he knew was that the other servants greatly despised the son – this was most likely the reason why they never remembered his name. Maria whizzed past him, too busy to apologise. Strands of her hair either stuck out comically or remained stuck to her head, the sweat working almost like a strong adhesive. Kurt marvelled, even now, at how much food was needed when guests came. He'd be lucky if he ate this amount in a month, let alone a day.

"Kurt!" Kurt raised his head. He was just about to grab the clothes and take them up to Mr Anderson. "Forget those for now, I need you." Justin said as he grabbed Kurt's wrist and dragged him up the stairs. Kurt stumbled all the way up, trying to get his footing right and keep up with Justin at the same time. "I must prepare the carriage to go and collect our guests." He spat the word out as though it was a bad taste in his mouth.

"Is it not the job of their servants to transport them here?" Kurt asked as they came to a screeching halt beside the carriage out front. Justin nodded and made sure the horses were firmly attached to the reins.

"Indeed, but it seems that our master wishes to make a good impression," He said, not looking back at Kurt as he spoke. Justin laughed bitterly. "Though I see no reason considering they have met countless times. I have been ordered to go and pick our guests up and transport them back here." Kurt sighed and opened the door to the carriage. It was beautiful, but also rather unnecessary. Was there really any point in the lining of the chairs being gold? Brushing this thought aside he raised his hands and, noticing they were coated in grime, rubbed them on his shirt before carefully pulling back the curtains. The silk material was gentle on his aching hands as he attached them elegantly to one side. A loud knock rocked the carriage as Kurt took this as his signal to vacate.

"That was all the help you needed?" Kurt asked. Justin nodded and looked at the carriage, seemingly baffled.

"Apparently so. I do apologise, Kurt. I was sure this carriage needed a clean-up before departure." Kurt glanced back at the immaculate carriage in wonder and then glanced back at the mansion. By an interesting coincidence Kurt noticed Blaine peeking out of the curtains up on one of the higher floors. Said man gave Kurt a cheeky smile before ducking back into the room. "Kurt?"

"Oh, ah, sorry…" Kurt spoke as he turned back to face Justin, who was watching him questionably. "Say, Justin, tell me about the guests." Justin's face darkened as he leaned against the carriage.

"We do not usually see the mother. The father is a man of pride, but in no means cruel. The son is the person we have a problem with. We do not care for the business that gives them wealth, nor do we care for the brute of a child that thinks himself so important. He is rude and views people like us as the scum of the earth." Kurt tilted his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Most people think that, do they not?" He questioned.

"True, but not like this. You've heard stories, right? Of aristocratic children that physically attack servants and the parents that will not believe a word their servants say?" Kurt felt himself go cold and slightly pale, reminded of his previous masters.

"Yes, I have heard." He said softly. His abrupt change in demeanour had gone unnoticed by Justin, who continued speaking.

"Then there you go." He said simply and pushed off the carriage.

"Has this person harmed any of you before?" Kurt asked hesitantly. Justin shook his head.

"No. He has attempted to, but Master Blaine has always been there to protect us." He explained with a fond smile that Kurt had not seen much of. Kurt felt himself smiling also. "But be warned, the young master cannot always be around us. Our guests may be granted permission to be served by one servant in particular. It was suggested the last time they arrived here. Mr Anderson is quick to please his guests, so he agreed. It is in this case that Master Blaine will not always be around." Kurt felt himself beginning to worry now. If this guest was anything last his previous masters then he definitely needed to worry. It is forbidden, of course, for a servant to restrain or harm anyone of a higher social position than themselves. Before he knew it, Justin had already taken off in the carriage and had disappeared from sight.

"Good morning," The voice from behind startled the young servant as he whirled around. However he let out a breath when he realised the identity of the voice. "Apologises, I didn't mean to scare you. How do you like the carriage?" That cheeky smile was back and Kurt had to resist the erg to roll his eyes before Blaine.

Kurt recited a poem with perfect ease, as though he had been repeating it in a rehearsed manner since he had first heard it. Blaine had heard it too, of course. There were many different variations of this poem, and multiple interpretations. So many so that it was impossible to draw out one specific meaning and disregard others. Blaine raised an eyebrow.

Blaine had recognised the poem. "That poem is the most ironic thing I have ever heard of. What are you implying by bringing it up?"

"That we're ironic." Kurt said simply, offering no explanation.

"We are?" He asked and received a nod. "How so?" Kurt took a deep breath.

"I am a servant, and you my master. It is my job by nature to serve you, yet you insist on taking over aspects of my job. Such as: Fixing up the carriage, and cleaning the floors." Blaine was listening intently. "This happened willingly and together. But if this continues, we will be each other's downfall. I will lose my job, and you shall lose society's respect."

"So we're the 'two dead boys'?" Blaine asked hesitantly. Kurt just nodded. "Kurt, come on, there's no issue with me helping out."

"I appreciate all you are doing," Kurt assured him with a smile. "But with what I'm hearing about your guests, they will not appreciate it." But Blaine was not listening to his concerns right now, not since he had seen Kurt's smile.

"I like your smile; maybe you should wear it more often?" Blaine spoke before thinking. Instantly a blush crept to Kurt's cheeks as he took an awkward step back. "Oh, I'm sorry; I just meant that it's nice to see you happy." He rambled. Kurt, oddly, liked to see Blaine this way. He felt like social classes didn't matter when he was around him. But of course they did matter, and if he wanted to keep seeing Blaine then he was going to have to try and not get fired.

"I should go and help the others. We have a lot of work to do." He said simply as he passed Blaine.

"Remember - 'the rose that grew from concrete'." Blaine called out, causing Kurt to give a soft laugh as he entered the mansion.

The rest of the day continued smoothly for Blaine who, much to his irritation, was made to wear an incredibly stiff and drab looking suit in honour of the guests coming to visit. He had met them countless times before, of course, but that did not mean that he liked them. He didn't understand much of what was discussed over the dinner table between the guests and his own parents, but then again he never really cared to begin with. Hearing the patter of hooves against gravel he glanced out of the window to see the carriage pull up outside his home. Recollecting himself he took a deep breath to gather his patience before exiting the room. The servants were gathered by the front door, ready to greet the guest. Blaine's father stood before them.

"Now listen, as I'm sure some of you know, last time our guest visited it was suggested that upon their next arrival they are welcome to select one of you to serve them specifically." He explained, causing Blaine to roll his eyes. "Whoever they choose has no excuse for not serving them accordingly, do I make myself clear?" Each servant nodded and Mr Anderson grunted his approval. Just then the doors opened and a man and his son stepped into the building. The man had a moustache and beard which was an aging mixture of white and grey that matched his hair. The son stepped in after him. He had short brown hair and seemed to be in a fair build, it would not be too far-fetched to assume he would have excelled in certain outdoor sports. Blaine noticed the way Kurt had stiffened and, if possible, had paled considerably.

"Ah, Mr Karofsky," Welcomed Blaine's father as he shook the hand his guest. Paul smiled and patted his host's hand in a friendly manner. "And Dave." The son grinned and nodded his head in acknowledgement. "As suggested last time, any servant is yours." Paul barely even needed to look over the servants before he picked Mrs Amaro, who was attempting to hide her irritation. A false and rehearsed smile crossed her face as she nodded and followed him off. Blaine walked down the stairs slowly and in silence. Kurt looked so deathly afraid right now that it was heart breaking to watch. Dave turned his head to the servants, his eyes landing on Kurt.

"I'll take this kid." The smirk on Dave's face had been noticed by, not only Kurt, but Blaine and Maria. Mr Anderson nodded and moved towards Kurt, who still had not shown any signs of movement.

"What are you waiting for, boy?" Questioned Mr Anderson harshly. When Kurt still did not move, he was pushed. Unfortunately this meant he stumbled into Dave, who caught him by the upper arms. "Oh, Dave, I do apologise." Said Mr Anderson.

"Not to worry, sir," Dave said with an almost sadistic smile. "I'll be off now." Blaine noticed how tightly Dave was holding onto Kurt, his knuckles were turning rapidly white and veins were as clear as day on the back of his hand.

"Excuse me," Blaine said, stepping into their path. "Don't you think you're holding him a bit too tight? You're hurting him." He saw Dave raise a mocking eyebrow, a hint of confusion and surprise becoming evident.

"Blaine." His father scolded. But Blaine wasn't letting up; he kept an intense but polite gaze on the boy before him. Kurt kept quiet but he was trying to catch Blaine's eye, so he could throw him a warning look.

"I'm sorry," Dave started, his voice light and sarcastic. He turned his eyes onto Kurt. "Am I hurting you?"

"Of course not, sir." Kurt was a good actor. Had Blaine not known the boy, he would have been fooled. But he saw the evidence of Kurt's lying, because when he had given – which could only have been an attempt at –a reassuring smile, it had not reached his eyes.

"Now then," Dave turned his gaze back to Blaine, whose expression had not changed. "If you will excuse us." The silence was suffocating, it was so thick that you could cut the silence with a knife. After what felt like forever Blaine stepped to one side and allowed them to pass him. But he wasn't about to give up there, certainly not. There was a connection with Kurt and the Karofsky family, and he was determined to figure it out.

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Part two – I'm the hero of this story.

Rain. I've always hated it. Well, maybe 'always' is a bit of an exaggeration. I didn't mind it for a while, but after my mum died I couldn't help but feel pure hatred whenever the world was darkened and damp from the rain. Silly really, you'd think that I'd have a lot more to talk about considering it's my fifteenth birthday. But no, here I am complaining about the rain. Oh well. I'd just been to the hospital you see. Working means that I can pay small instalments in order to keep my dad in the hospital. If I go out of work again then they'll force him out onto the streets with me… Again.

"Hummel," I turned my head to see the footman looking at me with a mask of indifference. "The young master wants to see you." I felt my blood run cold. I've had intolerable masters before, ones that left me with an uncomfortable feeling. But Dave Karofsky was different. When he saw me there were so many emotions I didn't recognise. Of course I noticed the anger, the hate, and the disgust. But what was the one look that made him look at me a second longer than he needed to? When I could practically feel his eyes burning holes in my back as I left? Whatever it was, it was different and unsettled me.

I nodded to him and took a deep breath before making my way to Karofsky's room. I knocked on the door and heard a gruff voice calling out for me to come in. He knew it was me, he always seemed to know. Never did he think that I might not come to him when he asked, never did he assume another servant would come in my place. I opened the door and stepped into the room, once inside I proceeded to close the door again.

"About time." The subtle venom in his voice was one thing that made him similar to previous masters. It did not faze me. I simply looked at him, I never had the chance to respond before he was already speaking again. "Clear this mess up." At first I didn't know what he meant. His room was immaculate. Then I noticed what he meant. His bed was untidy, he had a tray of half-eaten food and an unfinished coffee. But most of all, his trousers were coated up to the knees in mud. He had a habit of going for walks and returning coated in mud. He did it on purpose, I'm sure of it. He could just keep to the path, but somehow he ends up walking the muddied fields instead. I walked over to the trousers and picked them up, sighing softly at the mess. It took a lot of effort to get mud out of clothes, my hands were still sore from the last time I had scraped away all the grime.

"Not again." I mumbled quietly under my breath. I never assumed that he would hear me, considering I was at the other side of the room and had spoken so quietly.

"What was that?" He growled so suddenly that I dropped the fabric onto the white floor, tainting the pure colour.

He was by my side in an instant, face red in anger. Way too much anger for it to have been caused by a simple mistake such as this. I quickly picked the trousers up again and draped them over the back of the dark chair where they had rested previously. He was close. I moved back, and he moved forward. I was in the corner, but he was still coming closer.

"I'm sorry, sir," I exclaimed quickly. "I meant no harm."

"It's your job to clear up my mess, got it?" He glared down at me. "You're pathetic, maybe we should just fire you!"

"No!" I cried out, making the mistake of putting my hand on his arm. "Please, I need to pay for my dad's hospital bills!" But he had gripped my wrist tightly. I gasped in surprise. This was not the first time that he had harmed me, and I always knew the last time would be when I either get fired, quit, or die. Grim thoughts, don't you think? Well, it's a grim time. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. "Let go of me!" I shrieked, yanking my arm back – releasing myself from his grip. I didn't stop there, I also pushed him back ever so slightly. He stumbled and looked at me in surprise. Well, now I'm in for it. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. He came at me, grabbed my head in his hands and kissed me deeply. Tears burned in my eyes as I felt myself become trapped in the corner, his body blocking any hopes of escaping. My first kiss…

He pulled back and looked at me. Now I understood that mysterious emotion in the back of his eyes. Lust. I could only stare. A blurry figure moved in closer, but I pushed it away. Tears were making it impossible to see straight. At least they didn't fall. I refused to let the rain fall, I hate it after all. I briefly saw the hurt cross his face before he took a step back himself.

"You tell anyone about this and I will kill you." He growled. I just stared at him. What else could I have done? I couldn't leave, I'd never be able to pay the hospital otherwise.

I didn't tell my dad about the kiss. The last thing he needed was to worry about me being sexually harassed. Wow, it's a scary thought when I think of it like that. He knew that Karofsky was violent, but he always knew that I could handle it. He may not like it, but there's no other choice. With everything that's happened, things still don't seem easier. I'm fifteen and I'm already an adult. I might as well be, because I stopped being a child after I saw my mum lying on the ground. I hate to cry in front of anyone, but I couldn't help it. My shoulders are too small to carry everything alone. I sat on the side of my dad's bed, doubled over and crying. He was sat up, rubbing my back and kissing my head.

"It's alright, son, it's going to be alright."

"Damn," I mumbled through my shaking sobs. "It's raining again. I hate the rain."

"Kurt?" He said softly. "It's not raining…" I slowly lifted my head, my tears gliding silently down my cheeks.

"It definitely is…" I said, lifting my head up as though convincing myself that the water on my face was just rain and not tears. Maybe I would have believed it better had I been outside.

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"You done yet, homo?" Karofsky asked from the other side of the room. I raised my head at the degrading term of address. How ironic.

"Ironic that you're being prejudice against me when you're the same." I pointed out stupidly. Well, I never claimed to be sensible. He glared and showed me his fist as he rose to his feet.

"You kissed me!" He raged. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not going to hold it over you," I said. "But you shouldn't be ashamed of who you are."

"I am not like you!" I blinked and a dull pain formed in the back of my head. Great, my back is against the wall again. "You don't know anything, so you better shut your mouth!" He had a tight grip on my arms. It was getting tighter, and tighter. Ow…

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"I didn't do anything!" I exclaimed to Mr Karofsky, who frowned at me with his arms crossed. The other servants were behind me but did not speak up. I didn't blame them. If they had spoken then they would be on the streets too. "He attacked me and I pushed him back, sir. Please, I need this job, my dad will die if I can't bring in some money." There was no sympathy. He didn't even know my name, a lot of the time he questioned me on who I was when he saw me around. He never could remember his servants, he could never recognise them.

"My son has a bump on the back of his head that you caused." He said simply, as though his mind was already made up.

"It was self-defence, sir!" I was panicking now. I couldn't lose my job. Losing my job would mean losing my dad. I didn't care what I had to suffer through if it meant that my dad would remain alive.

"I am sorry, Hummel, but we have already hired your replacement."

0000

The memories from the past were bitter as the events played in my head. Karofsky was a guest now at the Anderson home. If I want to keep my job here, then I have to make sure that Karofsky doesn't inform Mr Anderson of our past. I have no choice, I need to stay in his good graces – if that was even remotely possible. I felt like I had back then, back two years ago. A scared kid who wasn't treated like a kid. The grip on my right upper arm was getting tighter, harsher.

I'll be alright. I can do this. I know that I'm stronger than him, maybe not physically but certainly in every other aspect. He would not last a day in my position. I have to remember that. I can't let him dehumanise me any further.

"Wait!" I turned my head as Karofsky came to a stop beside me. Blaine was running up to us. He was panting slightly when he caught up to us. "Dave," He started. "Look, you know me and you know I don't appreciate you treating anyone harshly."

"Anderson," He replied with an amused tone. This would not end well. I don't know if I could keep silent if he started to bad mouth, or hurt Blaine in front of me. "I don't understand your fascination with scum like this." He jerked my arm slightly when he said that. I saw Blaine give me a soft look.

"Could you at least release him and let him walk with you?" He asked. "It isn't like he is going to run off if you let go." I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Dave, who frowned slightly but obliged. "Do you mind if I speak to him before you go? Privately?" Silence hung in the air once again. I was surprised when Dave moved and waited at the other end of the corridor. "Are you alright?" He asked me. I couldn't help but give a gentle smile.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you, Blaine." I saw him smile in return. Though his smile didn't last long.

"Do you have a past with him?" I could practically hear the uncertainty in his voice. I didn't want to lie to him, I felt like I couldn't. I could trust that he wouldn't say anything to get me fired. But still, that didn't stop me from hesitating before I replied.

"He's my previous master, and was very aggressive. I had pushed him away from me once and he banged his head and blamed me. That was how I ended up on the streets." I had whispered all of this, just in case someone had heard me. His expression turned to horror and… was that concern?

"I'll get him away from you, Kurt, I'll figure out a way for you to not have to deal with him." He was rambling and talking fast. I love it when he does this. Wait… love it? That thought came out of nowhere… Anyway, I simply smiled.

"Thank you, Blaine, but I'll be fine." Before he had a chance to reply, I follow after Karofsky. I appreciate Blaine's concern, I really do, but this is my hill to climb alone. It has been a hill that I have been climbing for a long time.