Rating: PG - 13
Summary: Kurt took him in because it was cold outside, and he looked injured, and Kurt had an insatiable curiosity and wanted to find out how the hell the boy had ended up in his backyard in the first place (his being really attractive didn't hurt, either). It was like While You Were Sleeping, and Kurt was Sandra Bullock. Except with weird, unexplained phenomena. …And without Bill Pullman.
Spoilers: a little NBK and SLS, but AU in general
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Warnings: mentions of scary movies, eventual (but not for a while) light exploration of issues of consent

A/N: Chapter Three is here! Hooray! The next chapter is where the fun begins, kids. I can't wait!

"Let me make sure I'm getting this. You just brought him inside. From off the street."

"He was in our backyard. And it was cold outside, I didn't think—"

"Kurt, that was very irresponsible of you. What if this guy had decided to attack you? Or robbed the house while you were sleeping? You know, you should have at least woken up me or Carole. You can't be so careless, bud."

Kurt sighed and glanced up at Finn, who had been completely inept at supporting him and was currently doing his best to look appropriately chastised. So much for having his back.

"Dad," Kurt started, attempting a strict but also slightly humbled tone. "Look: He's run away. He doesn't have anywhere to go back to."

His dad gave him a steady look, unimpressed. "We don't even know this boy," he said. Finn nodded (the traitor) and Burt continued, "The right thing to do would be to call the police."

Oh no, no, not fair, not when Kurt might have finally found a (slightly insane) Prince Charming! Kurt opened his mouth to snap out something appropriately barbed before thinking better of it.

Rational. Mature. Be mature about this, Kurt.

"Dad, please?" Kurt tried, attempting to look as adult as possible. "He's hurt. I don't want to put that kind of stress on him while he's injured." It was true. Blaine limped a little bit when he walked, and who knew what was going on with whatever illness he had held previously that had kept him asleep. Kurt was shocked the boy could stand at all. "At least let him stay here until he feels better?"

Finn chose that moment to switch sides. "He took forever to wake up," he told Burt. "He is really hurt."

Kurt sent him a quick thank you glance, even if he had been without an army for the majority of the conversation.

Burt looked reluctant. "Boys, I understand you want to help him, but he isn't some injured bird you found on the porch step. This is a human being, with a whole history to him that we know nothing about. We don't know what we'll be getting into just taking him in like this. Do you even know what he's running away from?"

Kurt's eyes traveled past his dad and out the glass door, where Blaine stood underneath the oak tree. He had been standing there for half an hour already, head craned backwards and studying the branches above his head as if they were the most interesting things he had ever seen. Kurt wanted so much to take another peak at his eyes; his gaze was so intense Kurt was almost surprised that none of the dying leaves he was looking at had caught fire.

Kurt let himself rake down the boy's body—all rigid lines and worry. The image of tanned fingers turning white from a terrified grip on the couch arm flashed across his brain.

"He's asking for our help," Kurt said softly. "I know it's risky, Dad, but you didn't see him. The way he acted when he woke up… " Kurt shifted his gaze to look at his father, only to find himself confronted with a strangely gentle expression he hadn't expected. His words ran away in surprise.

"You've always been kind, even as a kid," was all his dad said.

Finn shifted slightly next to Kurt, and Burt cleared his throat.

"Okay," he said.

Kurt's eyes widened.

"We'll help him out," his dad continued. "For a little while." Kurt thought that last was supposed to be heard only by Burt Hummel, but he was too busy grinning and hugging his dad and thanking him profusely to care. Finn raised his hand for a high five and Kurt even decided to grant him one, such was his happiness.

"I'll go tell him!" He walked with excitement to the backyard (under no circumstances did he skip, despite what Finn later claimed). Blaine was still standing, eerily still, staring up at the branches of the trees.

Kurt slowed as he neared him, shivering a little in the crisp autumn air. He glanced up to see what Blaine was looking at, tilting his head and coming to a stop next to his mysterious stranger.

Twisted branches. Gold leaves, peppered with blood red accents. Not his favorite combination, but there was something to be said for Mother Nature's flair.

"…I'm not seeing anything particularly engrossing," he whispered to Blaine.

Blaine leaned closer, eyes still searching upward, and Kurt was briefly overwhelmed at the fact that they were both conscious and still somehow nearer than a foot away from each other.

"I'm looking for something in particular," Blaine whispered back.

Kurt blinked and turned to him. "What?" he asked. He tried, unobtrusively, to get another glimpse of those eyes—see what shapes they were forming—but the angle was all wrong and he couldn't see without being obvious about it.

"My way out," Blaine replied, the beginnings of a frown starting to tug on his features. Worry pulled him back like a spring and Kurt watched as it gathered up energy behind his eyes, waiting for some internal signal. It must have sounded, because Blaine was now propelling forward, circling the tree and looking up—always up. "You said you found me underneath this tree, right?" he called to Kurt. Kurt moved to get a better look at whatever Blaine was doing.

"Ye-es," he answered warily, watching as Blaine's hands ran up and then down the bark, feeling for… something. Kurt raised an eyebrow. He pointed to the place he had found Blaine. "You were right—"

A knife of fear swung like a guillotine through his voice.

Holy…

His body pulled taut as he stared with wide eyes at the ground.

That was blood.

That was dried blood.

That was a lot of dried blood.

"Blaine…" his voice strained to slip through the closing of his throat, coming out smaller and thinner than when it had been formed. "That's…"

That was from Blaine. It had to be. Kurt tried to swallow against the knot of dread rising in his esophagus. There was so much blood. He had lost so much blood. How was he still standing? How had Blaine ever woken up? There was so much blood!

Something cracked behind him and Kurt whirled around, heart punching against his chest—to catch Blaine's slightly widened eyes move to his, Blaine's hand falling from his head. "What's wrong?" Blaine asked.

Eyes warm and honey-sweet. Luminous in the setting sun. But normal.

Kurt tried to speak, but he could only trace words into the air.

Blaine's expression was slowly painted with concern. "Kurt, what's wrong?" he repeated, moving closer. Kurt's stomach clenched and he looked back toward the ground, where—

He blinked.

Where nothing was there. No blood. Not even any dead grass or a pile of brownish-red leaves.

Just the shadow of branches on the ground.

…Oh wow, Kurt Hummel. Way to make an ass out of yourself. He had been getting less sleep than he had thought.

Kurt turned back to look at Blaine, who was watching him intently, face a mask of perfect confusion.

"It's nothing," Kurt said lightly. "Just jumping at shadows." Literally. He took a breath and shook himself slightly, then pointed at the area of his delusions. "That's where I found you."

Blaine placed a firm hand on his elbow (Kurt tensed because oh, hello, that was unpredicted) and moved around him slightly, scouring the ground that sprawled in front of Kurt's legs. He looked up at the branches, and then back down at the ground. Up at the branches. Down at the ground. Up. Down. Up—

"Okay, seriously, what are you looking for?" Kurt interrupted. "You're making me dizzy."

Blaine glanced back at Kurt before turning his attention back to the tree above them. After a few minutes of silence, his shoulders slumped. "Nothing," he sighed, his brow furrowed. "I think I've lost it. Or broken it. One of the two." Blaine looked at Kurt and sent him a small and completely fake smile. Kurt would have been able to see through it from the other end of a football field. "It's all right, though, I'll find another way to leave," he told Kurt. "Don't worry." Blaine winked at him and patted him on the arm, finally letting go of his elbow.

Kurt was frozen for a few seconds, a little in awe at the completely casual way Blaine had touched him. Who did that?Strange boys with tree-fixations did that. And boys who were flirting with you. They did that, too. They did that a lot, actually; there was a lot of touching involved when a boy liked you. Kurt knew, because no boys liked him except, apparently, Karofsky, and no boys except Karofsky touched him. In fact, Karofsky touched him all the time.

And that wasn't really something Kurt wanted to think about right now, so maybe—

Wait. Hold on.

Blaine was heading toward the house before Kurt processed what he said.

"I'm not!" he called after him. Blaine turned around, a question pulling at his features. "I'm not worried," Kurt elaborated. Blaine cocked his head warily. "You don't have to leave, Blaine."

Something sparked to life in those hazel eyes.

"Sorry?" Blaine breathed.

Kurt felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You don't have to leave," he repeated. "Dad said you can stay."

For a second, it seemed like Blaine wasn't breathing. Then, he huffed out a laugh, and suddenly he was not so rigid, not so many straight lines. He gave Kurt a dazzling grin that lit up his entire face, his mouth slightly open as if still in shock. "Great!" he cried, and if relief had an image in the dictionary, it would be a picture of a black-haired, golden-eyed boy. "That's—Wow! That's—that's amazingly kind of you, Kurt, I—thank you!"

"It's not a problem," Kurt told him, and that was an honest truth. Kurt didn't know Blaine well enough to have been able to tell what lost looked like when he wore it, but now that he was wearing found, it was easy enough to spot what it was replacing. Kurt knew they were doing the right thing.

"Come on inside," Kurt said, walking toward Blaine and thus, the house. "I'll show you around." He brought his hand up to gesture Blaine inside—

But instead of gesturing, it kind of wrapped around another hand, instead. Kurt blinked as he stared down at the olive-toned fingers cupping his palm.

That was unexpected.

But… okay.

Kurt didn't notice the small smile that tickled his lips until Finn pointed it out to him forty minutes later.