"I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light."
- Helen Keller

When Blaine woke up the next morning, he was acutely aware of a banging at his door. He groggily kicked his sheets away, getting out of bed in perhaps the most ungraceful way possible.

When he arrived at the door and looked through the keyhole, he expected to see the government officials that often came into the poorer districts for inspections. However, instead he saw the girl from down the hall. She had only moved in a few weeks before, but he had already learned some about her situation. Her name was Rachel, and he didn't know much of her story, only that she had been vaguely famous a few years back.

She looked nervous, as she usually did. She fidgeted with her sweater as she waited at the door, looking as if she was attempting to stay polite but pushed to desperation by her nerves.

She had been a singer, that much Blaine knew. She refused to lip-sync to her music, and instead sang her songs live. This gained her much media attention, until she ran out of words to sing with. For some reason, she rejected the idea of the operation, and instead saved her money. Somehow, she got to a low word count, like the rest of the people in Blaine's building. No one's was as severe as Blaine's, but many had less than half of their words left.

He opened the door, asking for an explanation with the look on his face. Rachel hastily pointed down the hallway, where two government officials were stepping out of the elevator. Understanding, he pulled her into his room.

The government handled Rachel's situation rather oddly. Blaine wasn't entirely sure of the circumstances, only that it upset some higher up people that Rachel was refusing the operation. Because of this, she was constantly getting berated by government officials. From what he gathered, this is what completely shot her nerves. Perhaps that was why she moved to a poorer district.

Rachel immediately ran to his bedroom, where she sat down between Blaine's dresser and nightstand and put her hands over her ears. Blaine moved to comfort her, but a loud banging on the door stopped him.

He once again walked over to the door. When he saw the two stern looking men from the police force standing outside his door, he attempted to compose himself. Rachel was the closest thing he had to a friend on this floor, even though their communication consisted of small head nods of hello and goodbye. Still, he would not subject her to the torture of a police questioning.

Blaine opened the door, attempting to look as if he had just gotten out of bed. From behind their riot masks, Blaine could see that the officers were looking at him with an air of distaste.

"Good morning, sir." The first officer spoke. He was taller than the other officer, and seemed to be more experienced. Blaine gave a small nod in recognition.

"I believe I said good morning to you." The same officer said angrily. Blaine was taken aback, what the man ignorant or just plain stupid?

"Officer Jones, I understand the citizen is being rude, but he is most likely low on words, given his circumstances." The second officer offered. The more experienced officer immediately gave him a scathing look, making it known that correcting his superior was not to be done.

"I understand that. Now sir," the officer began, and Blaine fully expected to hear a question about Rachel's whereabouts, "have you seen this man?"

Blaine was surprised to see a picture of the protester from the day before. In fine print at the bottom of the headshot was written Finn Hudson. Blaine remembered the man screaming to the street. But what he remembered more was Kurt, calling the police on the man and then rushing into the bookshop. The man must mean something to Kurt, he just didn't know what.

After a split second of hesitation, Blaine shook his head. No. He was not going to turn in Kurt's friend.

The older officer gave him a skeptical look, but then nodded and walked to the next door down. Blaine hastily closed his door and ran to his bedroom, where Rachel still sat with hands over her ears.

Blaine calmly walked over to her, crouching down to her level once he got there. He had dealt with Rachel's anxiety only a few times before, so his experience was subpar.

Cautiously, he moved his hands to take hers off of her ears. She looked at him fearfully. He shook his head, and then pointed to her. Not you. A look of relief passed over her face, and she suddenly jumped into his arms, engulfing him in a hug. He awkwardly patted her back, not sure what to do.

Slowly, she removed herself from the embrace and made her way to the door. She smiled at Blaine, a friendly gesture that reassured him that she hadn't misconstrued the situation. Blaine was never good at turning down the attention of girls. Many of the women on his block found his lack of words mysterious, even though his story was far from it.

Every once in a while, he would get hit on in a nonverbal way. Every time, he would have to awkwardly shake his head and point to himself. Not me. It was a rough way to turn someone down, but he had no other way of revealing himself to people.

But somehow, Rachel seemed to know. Perhaps it was her cultured background, or maybe she was just intuitive. Either way, he was glad that someone finally understood.

Kurt would probably understand, too, he told himself. But he immediately swatted the thought away. Not only was that wishful thinking, but he barely knew the man. He had seen him on the street and had a ten minute conversation with him, which in and of itself wasn't all that impressive.

And yet, he had given this man his copy of Hamlet, and was currently counting down until the day that he would have to return his library book. Why was Blaine taking so many chances on this unknown man?

But deep inside, Blaine suspected that he was not wrong about Kurt. He had learned so much from a simple conversation. There was more of Kurt to learn, and he planned on learning it.

If only he could find out where to find him.