Mom would be so proud. Lying to the police because a nice prostitute told you to.

He glanced at the walls of posters on his right, particularly one in the bottom corner. The face was smirking, the dark hair pushed into a peak. Blaine nudged his own hair back into place, just as Santana had done it, replaying her words in his mind.

“They’ve pretty much lost hope for the guy now. Obviously, you don’t look perfect, but it’s been almost a year. Who knows what could’ve happened to him since he left? For all they know you’ve been held hostage and tortured, and it’s made you shorter. I’m guessing the boyfriend’s gonna be so happy to have good news, so desperate to see the guy, he’ll believe what he wants to believe. His name’s Kurt, and he’s all you can remember. He’ll try and ask you about other people, other memories, but you just keep that scared face up and hold his hand like you’ve been holding mine, and nobody’s gonna want to push you.”

She said it would be convenient if he was actually gay, and he shrugged and looked at the ground. He was. He’d always known he was, the same way he’d known he liked music, and making people happy, but he didn’t think about it anymore. The idea of someone touching him like that sent a sickening shiver down his spine.

He’d been sitting alone in the large office, full of desks and papers and computers, for almost half an hour. He’d noticed people, presumably police officers, glancing over at him and whispering to each other. He was so sure they’d know he wasn’t who he said he was. There probably wasn’t much else to talk about during a night shift, and a missing person turning up after almost a year had to be a rare occurrence. He hunched his shoulders and made himself as small as possible.

‘Who knows what could’ve happened to him?’

Feeling terrified might not be such a disadvantage.

The blonde detective he’d spoken to earlier (well, Santana had done most of the talking) walked back into the room, followed by someone else. He looked tired, sad, worried, tired again, and Blaine immediately felt awful. This man had done nothing to him, was probably just starting to get over Sebastian’s disappearance, and Blaine was about to bring everything back and make it all worse. He watched silently as Sam guided the man - Kurt, his name’s Kurt - to the desk where Blaine was waiting. He felt tension building in every part of his body, making his muscles tighten and his stomach churn. He could feel himself getting ready to confess to everything, lying, attempting and failing to look like Sebastian, dragging Kurt here for nothing, but all he could do was stare at the man who was staring straight back at him.

The cold, heavy feeling in Kurt’s stomach dissolved as soon as he saw the boy... Man... It was hard to tell. The little skin he could see was grubby, his clothes were wet, his hair was matted, and he looked so small. He knew in an instant it wasn’t Sebastian. There was no triumphant smirk, so sense of superiority, no game-playing. The second their eyes met, Kurt’s heart stopped. The boy shifted uncomfortably, obviously desperate to look away, but they were both stuck.

“Oh my God.”

The words fell out of Kurt’s mouth, and Blaine kept staring. His own mouth was slightly open, trying to find words damning enough to explain what he’d done. He tried to remember how many other people were there and whether he was fast enough to make a run for it. If he could just duck past the blonde, jump over a desk or two… Then someone else would stop him. Blaine’s mind flashed through every possible outcome, and they all ended with him being grabbed and pushed to the ground and God knows what else. Somewhere between a decision and a resignation and an inability to move or speak, Blaine simply stayed still, looking at the man standing in front of him, silently praying for a miracle.

Something about the slumped figure on the chair affected Kurt. Even though he’d clearly been through something awful, his eyes were glistening. His stomach twisted with an urge to do something, whether it was just patting his shoulder or carrying him home, and his mind went blank, leaving him to make what was probably the stupidest decision he could have made.

He fell to his knees and hugged him.

Blaine froze at the contact. His entire body seized up, and his stomach lurched as his brain went into a tailspin figuring out an escape route. He felt Kurt stroke a circle on his back to soothe him and he suppressed his flight response and shut his eyes, knowing that even though being held this tight was his worst nightmare, it was probably exactly what he was supposed to want, and the police would expect Sebastian to hug back, or at least not try and bolt. He felt himself pushing forward, into the warmth rather than away from it. Nobody had held him like this for a long time without being drunk or angry or hateful, digging their fingers into his skin until they bruised. He heard Kurt whisper ‘it’s okay’ in his ear. It didn’t exactly clue him in on what he was doing, but it was reassuring under the circumstances. Kurt eventually pulled back, holding Blaine’s arms as they kept their firm grip on his thighs. He rubbed the worn fabric of his sweater, a comforting gesture, like his mother had when he’d been playing outside for too long and it had started to rain. He even offered a small smile.

Kurt realised that he couldn’t go back now. If he was going to do this, he had to do it properly.

“I can’t believe it… It’s you. Sam, it’s him. God, Sebastian, I missed you so much…”

He raised a palm to Blaine’s face and his heart broke when he saw the sharp intake of breath. He seemed sure that this was going to turn bad any second. He didn’t know what to do to show the boy that he wasn’t going to hurt him.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He slid one hand over Blaine’s where his nails had gone white from clinging to his knee. He’d barely touched the knuckles, barely grazed the hairs on the back of his hand when Blaine grabbed him back. He felt a joint crack and his fingers hurt where they were being squeezed, but he hardly noticed. All he could see was the look of pure gratitude on the boy’s face. He whispered ‘it’s okay’ again, nodding a little, before cupping his other cheek and stretching forward to kiss his temple. Blaine closed his eyes again, relishing feeling safe for the first time in years.

They both ignored the alarm bells ringing in their heads. Kurt felt a siren in his brain, pointing out that he was lying to the police for a boy he barely knew, that he would have to explain so much to everyone, that he was going to have to take him home and… and what? Feed him up and send him on his way? He knew it was stupid and ridiculous, but he couldn’t exactly change his mind now.

Blaine felt like his insides were screaming at him, that he couldn’t leave with this stranger, with someone who would be so quick to take him, that there had to be a catch, but all he could focus on were the lips pressing against his skin, and how soft and slow and careful Kurt was. He already trusted him more than anyone else in the world. It didn’t say a lot, but it was enough.

Sam was dumbstruck. They’d given up on Sebastian months ago. Whether he was dead or just didn’t want to be found, Sam didn’t think he’d ever see him. He still wasn’t sure he had seen him. This kid… Well, he was a kid. Sebastian would be twenty-two now, and the boy here could only have been seventeen. A malnourished eighteen, maybe. The hair, the complexion, the eyes, everything about him was wrong, but Kurt was acting like he’d known him for years. Sam observed their slow ritual; the gentle touches and soft words from Kurt, the way the boy leaned into him and closed his eyes, their figures sitting together as if they’d never been apart… They managed to make him doubt himself. He had a sudden pang of nostalgia for the days when he could just catch a shoplifter and get a free donut. It was a lot less confusing.

Kurt turned to look up at him, his hand seemingly throbbing from the way the boy was holding onto it. He didn’t even flinch.

“What now? Can I just… Can we go home?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair and puffed out his cheeks. He had no fucking idea. There wasn’t exactly a normal protocol for this.

“I, uh… I guess. I mean, we’re not supposed to… but you…” He stopped and took a breath. “I can’t just let you go. I’ve got to do some paperwork and stuff, so we know what happened to you. If anybody took you against your will, or… hurt you, we want to try and catch them.”

Blaine shrank back into his seat. It wasn’t about anyone else. It was about proving that he was lying. Of course he couldn’t just turn up out of nowhere and get whisked off. It was a police station, not a pound. He almost laughed to himself at the idea that it would be so much easier for a dog to find a home than a person, but he felt Kurt and Sam’s eyes on him. Kurt stroked over the back of his hand with his thumb.

“Is it okay if I stay with him? It could make it easier?”

Sam glanced at the boy. His eyes were practically begging him to say yes and his grip on Kurt’s hand was unrelenting. Maybe if he had Kurt with him he would say more than his name and ‘I want to see Kurt’. And maybe he would stop looking so scared and lost.

“Sure. You’ve been on your own for long enough. Let’s find somewhere more quiet.”

Blaine was convinced it was a trick. The officer was going to lull him into a false sense of security then trap him and mess with his head until he admitted to everything. The last place he wanted to go to was some kind of interrogation room, a tiny cell that was easy to lock him in. He wasn’t sure why, but as he stood up to follow Sam he pulled on Kurt’s hand. Kurt thought about hugging him again, but when Blaine flinched at the advance he settled for wrapping his other hand around the one he was already holding. This seemed to be the level of contact the boy was comfortable with. He relaxed and nodded slightly. He couldn’t believe he was asking Kurt to comfort him on top of everything else, but he seemed content to do it.

They were led into a fair sized office instead of a cell. He saw a picture on the desk of Evans with what must have been his family: a beaming black woman with a toddler on her hip, another child standing in front of her and a boy on his shoulders. As far as Blaine was concerned, it was just a tactic. Carefree photos placed strategically to humanise him. Sam gestured for them both to take a seat opposite him. Blaine looked to Kurt to check it was okay, and he nodded. Their hands didn’t separate as they sat down. Sam took another deep breath and looked from Blaine to Kurt and back again.

“So… Sebastian… Uh…” He wanted to kick himself. He wasn’t sounding very official. “Mr Smythe, is there anything you can tell me about the last year?” That wasn’t much better. “I mean, anything you can remember could help. Do you know what you did, where you went, if there was anyone else involved?”

Blaine frowned at Sam. Was he accusing him or trying to help? He glanced at Kurt again, not knowing how else to tell what was and wasn’t alright. Kurt squeezed his hand. Blaine shook his head and looked at his knees.

“Sebastian, how did you get here?” They both knew he was saying the name again to remind him of who he was pretending to be. He looked at Kurt, both to show that he was responding to it and because it just made him feel a little better. “Did you run away from something?”

Blaine tensed up again. His eyes stung and he couldn’t stop himself from digging his nails into Kurt’s skin. He blinked quickly to try and hold back his tears. Those weren’t Sebastian’s; they were Blaine’s, and he didn’t know if he was ready for these strangers to see them, no matter how much it might help.

“Mr Smythe,” Sam interrupted, “you’ve obviously been through a lot, and I want to let you go home, but if somebody did something to you, it would really help if you could tell me. Just a location or any names that spring to mind, anything you can remember-”

“Who hurt you?”

Kurt was suddenly angry. It was clear that something had happened to this boy; this teenager with shining eyes was so damaged that he couldn’t speak or be touched without stiffening. He didn’t care about stopping them from hurting someone else as much as he did about ripping their heads off for doing this.

Blaine was immediately alarmed by Kurt’s tone. From anyone else it meant trouble for him rather than concern, but the eyes gazing into his own were on his side.

“I can’t.”

He sounded as small as he looked. His voice was pretty in a sad kind of way. It was soft. Raw. Vulnerable.

Sam knew he should have been the one conducting the interview, but Kurt was doing a far better job than he could have. He let him carry on.

“You can’t what? Who hurt you? You can tell me- us. Please.”

“I- I just- I want to go.”

His breath was shaky, but Kurt kept hold of the boy’s hand. He reduced his voice to a whisper.

“What happened to you?”

Blaine pulled away from Kurt, wringing his hands in his lap. He started to shake almost imperceptibly. Kurt realised how aggressive he’d gotten, and resumed his gentle demeanour. Holding his hand seemed to be the only way to comfort the boy. It wasn’t fair for him to lose that too.

“No. Not today. Can’t we come back another time? I want to go. Please can we go?”

Kurt and Sam exchanged a glance. Sam nodded.

“Sure. It’s late. I think you need a good night’s sleep in your own bed. Sorry for keeping you both. Look after yourself, Mr Smythe.”

Blaine stared down at his tangled fingers clenched on his thighs. Kurt reached slowly towards his wrist.

“Bas?” Blaine didn’t respond. Kurt gave his forearm a squeeze. “Sebastian?” Blaine finally looked up at him again, blinking slowly. Kurt offered his open hand and Blaine took it tentatively. Their palms slid together, the movement already smooth and practised. Blaine stopped trembling and his shoulders dropped. He breathed harshly through his nose, forcing himself to calm down. Sam knew they weren’t going to get anything out of him for a while, and he stood up to open the door. He let Kurt and the boy walk out, patting Kurt on the arm as he left. He closed the office door behind them and leaned back against it, huffing out a sigh. Some day off this had been.

The gravity of the situation started to hit Kurt in waves as he walked out of the police station, hand in hand with a boy he didn’t know. He walked more and more quickly without realising, forcing Blaine to jog slightly to keep up. His breath was rushed. He knew his cheeks would be going red. He could feel his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. The icy air was a relief when it hit him as they got outside.

“So. My car’s that way.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Later. Let’s just go. My place isn’t far. We can talk there.”

Blaine was about to offer to leave, to find somewhere else to stay, but before he could protest Kurt was leading him towards a large, black vehicle and opening the door for him. He instinctively stroked the back of his hand before disentangling their fingers and walking around to his door. They sat in silence for a moment before Kurt started the engine. He played with the radio for a second then switched it off. It was the awful time of night when the only choices were ‘Late Night Love’ and ‘Club Classix’, and both felt inappropriate somehow. Even he wasn’t sure of the right musical accompaniment to taking in runaways.

They didn’t talk. Blaine gazed out of the window at the people and the lights and found it hard to worry about what would happen next when he was so grateful not to be facing that tonight. It looked like Kurt was going to let him stay on his floor for tonight. That was enough to settle his heart for now. He glanced at Kurt’s hand on the gear stick. He knew he couldn’t hold it while he was driving, but he would probably be allowed when they got there. He’d found one decent human being and maybe everything was going to be alright.

Kurt’s heart, on the other hand, was speeding up as they got closer to his apartment. He abruptly reached boiling point and every niggling thought that had crept into his mind in the last two hours was suddenly spilling from his lips.

“Fuck. Fucking fucking fuck. I’ve never lied to the police before. I’ve barely lied to anyone before. I’m a shit liar. They’re gonna find out. They’re going to know I don’t know you and they’ll arrest me for adopting some kid I’ve never even seen before. Everyone’s going to think I’m crazy. I am crazy. I have no idea who you are. For all I know, you killed Sebastian. Why the fuck am I such a sucker for puppy eyes? What am I going to tell people? Holy fuck, I’m having a heart attack. I’m gonna go to jail. Fuck. You owe me for this. You really owe me. You’ve got to give me something, okay?”

Of course. Blaine didn’t panic or freeze like before. He slumped in his seat and felt his heart drop in his chest as the engine roared, too much pressure, the noise vibrating through him. His stomach knotted and he closed his eyes, not even angry, just desperately unsurprised that of course nothing good could happen. Not really.

“Okay.”

Kurt silently berated himself. Why couldn’t he keep quiet until he was alone? The boy was scared enough without getting yelled at. He glanced to his right, where his passenger had shrunk again. He’d stopped looking at Kurt’s hand and resumed glaring at his own.

“Right. Good. I mean, not right now. You can sleep first, if you want. Or I can get you something to eat. We can figure everything out in the morning.”

“Okay. Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. Any of this. Thank you.”

He was determined to be polite, no matter what. It was what his mother would have wanted.

“Don’t mention it.”

Anyone would have thought he’d given him a quarter.

They were silent for the rest of the drive apart from the odd comment from Kurt, such as “it’s getting worse out there,” or “that’s the store; I’ll probably have to go get some supplies tomorrow”. Blaine didn’t contribute. He was already starting to think about moving on. A night or two with this man, then he’d find something else. Anything would do, as long as it didn’t involve owing anyone. He was lost in thought when he felt the car roll to a stop outside an apartment complex. It was alright, nothing fancy, but at least it was quiet. Kurt probably preferred that.

“So. This is home. For now. I mean, as long as you need… If you want. Um. Shall we…?”

They both climbed out and Kurt led the way to the stairs. He offered his hand, but the boy refused. It seemed odd, when he’d been so desperate to hold onto him before, but Kurt didn’t ask any questions. He’d had enough of those for tonight. They walked up a few flights, Kurt glancing back every now and then to check the boy was still there. Blaine realised he’d have to wait until the morning to leave. Pay the debt Kurt had talked about, get some sleep, get out. They reached a door, and Kurt jammed the key in and gave the frame a swift kick, which made Blaine flinch.

“Oh, sorry. It just needs some encouragement sometimes. Anyway, this is it.” He walked them through the small apartment, giving a brief tour. “Kitchen’s here, not much in the fridge but help yourself, living room, my room’s through there, and this is the spare room. You can sleep in here.”

“Can we do it now?”

Kurt frowned.

“What?”

“You know. I owe you. I’d rather get it over with now.”

Kurt was surprised, but a little relieved. He doubted he’d be able to sleep with so many unanswered questions.

“Oh, yeah. Good. You just get settled here, and I’ll be back in ten minutes. Make yourself comfortable. I know there isn’t much room, but… the mattress is pretty good.” What was he talking about? The boy had just come off the street; he probably didn’t care about mattress quality. Kurt gave up on small talk and went into the kitchen, putting the kettle on. Whether it was his brother or his dad or a homeless kid, a hot drink always felt appropriate. He breathed slowly and closed his eyes to try to control his heartbeat. He hushed the voices in his head asking one question after another, mainly ‘what are you going to do now?’ and concentrated on making tea. He put a couple of sugars in for his guest, figuring he could probably use a few calories. All he could do tonight was talk to him. He couldn’t make any decisions until he knew the boy’s situation.

He walked to the spare bedroom, carrying two mugs and dropping them both on the floor with a crash when he walked in to see the boy, completely naked, sitting on the bed with his legs trembling together and his head bowed, staring at the clasped hands in his lap. Even in the dim light creeping in from the hall, he could see bruises and grazes everywhere, his chest, his arms, his hips. There were dark purple lines around his neck. The nakedness barely even registered in Kurt’s mind.

“Oh my God. What happened?” He reached for a blanket and draped it carefully over the boy’s shoulders, trying not to irritate any of his wounds. “These look awful; should I take you to the hospital or something? Do they hurt?”

The boy shrugged.

“Sometimes. It doesn’t matter.” He started to pull the blanket down from his shoulders, still staring downwards. “Can we just get started?”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll, uh… I’ll find you some clothes. Do you want me to wash those? Or at least hang them somewhere to dry. Seriously, I’m worried about these,” he stroked over a bruised shoulder softly with his thumb, covering him up again with the creamy wool, “Who did this to you?”

Blaine shook him off.

“I told you; it doesn’t matter.” He tugged the blanket down deliberately, suppressing a shiver. “Do what you want to do. Then after I get some sleep I’ll get out of your way.”

Kurt looked down at the material as it fell in a heap on the floor, leaving the boy exposed, raw, and seemingly angry. He knew he’d obviously been through a lot, but Kurt didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

“Well, I guess I’d better make more tea. Or would hot chocolate be better? And how about food?”

“I’m not hungry. Kurt, please. I already owe you, like you said, so just do it already. I don’t want to owe you any more.”

Kurt frowned in utter confusion, glancing down at the boy’s various scars, purple blotches staining the broken, golden skin.

“Wait, you mean- what did you think I- is that why you’re naked?”

He jumped up from the bed, looking at the wall and shielding his eyes, as if he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to. Blaine’s eyes narrowed and he looked down at himself then back up at Kurt. His cheeks darkened immediately.

“Oh. So you didn’t… oh. Oh. Um. Right. But you said… You said I owed you.”

Kurt lowered his hand. The least he could do was be an adult and look in the boy’s eyes. This was no time to get flustered and embarrassed. He took a deep breath.

“I was just freaking out. I meant, like, an explanation, or your name, or… but you don’t have to.” He picked up the blanket, his eyes never leaving the boy’s, and wrapped it around him again. Blaine huddled into it. “I’m not gonna make you… do anything you don’t want to. I know you don’t know me, but I’m not a psycho. I’m just nicer than I probably should be.”

“Oh.”

He had no idea what else to say.

“Yeah.”

“My name’s Blaine.”

Kurt sighed with relief.

“Blaine. Right. Thank you. Would you like something to eat, Blaine?”

Blaine swallowed and licked his lips. The corners of his mouth twitched in an attempt at a smile, but Kurt was distracted by the dark marks on his skin shifting over his Adam’s apple.

“Yes, please. Sorry for being weird.”

“It’s fine.” He reached for Blaine’s hand, re-establishing the contact from before with a squeeze, regaining the level of trust and comfort between them. He knew too much physical contact was probably a bad idea, but he always seemed to respond well to this. “I know it probably seems strange that I’m letting you stay here. I mean, I’ve never even met you before, so I get that you feel like you shouldn’t trust me. But you were pretending to be my missing boyfriend, so I’m taking a risk here too. It’s probably stupid for us to trust each other, but I don’t think we really have a choice. Now, I think there’s a pizza in the freezer. How does that sound?”

“It’s great. Thank you.” Kurt smiled and turned to go to the kitchen, but Blaine didn’t let go of his hand. Kurt faced him again, concern etched out on his face. Had something set him off? Was he scared? “I mean it. Thank you so much.”

Kurt smiled again and stroked Blaine’s knuckles before easing their hands apart, laying Blaine’s on his lap. His fingers flexed, obviously missing the touch instantly, and curled into the thick knit of the blanket. When Kurt’s back was turned, he nuzzled into it, savouring the fresh, sweet scent and the softness against his cheek. His entire body relaxed at the smell of Kurt. After only a couple of hours, it made him feel safe.