Blaine was relieved to return to their cool house and get away from the tent that, in the dewy and warm morning, had made him pant for fresh air because of how much stickiness and humidity had gotten trapped in there sometime after the sun rose. As he blotted his sweaty face and swallowed several times in his failed attempt to wet his dry tongue, he jumped when Kurt bounced a few steps in front of him, still as perfect as ever, not a single hair out of place, while Blaine felt like a crusty and bleary mess, drool dried to his mouth, and his curls clinging to his damp forehead. He even smelled like grass, despite the fact that he hadnt ventured outside. That was the first time that Blaine had ever glared at Kurt, who Blaine was sure could roll around in a puddle of mud and sit up with not even a splotch to ruin his clothes. Sometimes, he privately wondered if Kurt was untouchable by the grime and grim of reality, but then he figured that hed touched Kurt before, even kissed him, so he waved that moot consideration from his mind.

As he walked behind a skipping Kurt, who never actually walked, but moved his body in leaps and bounds, he kept running his fingers through his disgusting hair that had frizzed in the heat, but he felt his hands drop to his sides when he discovered that the unusually delicious smell wafting to his nose and smothering his grassy stench wasnt just in his head as he tried to imagine himself cleaned off and smelling like whatever lotion he found in Kurts bathroom. Blaine had gotten used to the flowery scents that were a never fading perfume throughout the entire house, whichever rooms Kurt floated through, and he was certain that the smell of cake was just another fragrance that Kurt liked to wear. But, as soon as he walked through the kitchen door, he found himself almost running into a banner that stretched from side to side of the doorway. Looking up at it as he wondered what crazy thing Kurt had planned for today, Blaine furrowed his brows as he read Happy Birthday! The sign was obviously homemade, with glitter and sparkles tossed through the red paint. Beside of those words were smaller letters that said I love you, Blaine!

Feeling his throat tighten at the sweet words, Blaine thought about what day it was, and he turned his head over to the window. He realized that it was starting to warm up in preparation for spring, and he swallowed thickly. Today was his birthday, and he was turning six. Cocking his head to the side, Blaine glanced back over to Kurt, who was almost vibrating in his attempt to control his excitement. His small hands were clasped in front of him, and his cheeks blew up like little bubbles as a slow smile stretched from ear to ear. "Happy birthday!" He suddenly cried, unable to keep it in anymore, and he threw his arms around Blaines shoulders. Kissing Blaines cheeks and ears, Kurt hopped up and down, "We had to think of a way to keep you out of the house last night, so I took you camping! My daddy set up all of the decorations... but I made all of them!"

Twisting his neck back and forth, Blaine widened his eyes at the counter, which had a pink cake sitting on it. Candy hearts and sprinkles had been tossed aimlessly on the bright pink canvas, and six candles with pink and white swirls had been dropped on top of the cake. Blaine had never seen a more beautiful piece of artwork. Never before had Blaine been presented with a birthday cake, or even a banner, because, in his old home, being born wasnt good enough to be celebrated. In order to get so much as a pat on the back, he had to do something very impressive, and, through his dads eyes, he was too meek of a person to even come close to impressing. Blaine had set his sights low on ever having a party, because how could he ever do anything his brother, who was the only person his dad had ever been proud of, had? And, eventually, hed simply forgotten about doing things that had a chance of getting him a party, including being born.

Blaine automatically lowered his head, a shy stance that hed always taken up whenever everyones attention turned to him. This was a rare occasion, and Blaine didnt know what to do with himself, if he was actually supposed to entertain them by doing or saying something, motions and words that had slipped him but were probably like air to others, known but only thought about in rare instances in which they realized that they actually did need it. But Blaine found himself standing as still as a statue, a decoration that people looked at for a few moments, and then forgot why they were looking at it when they exhausted their efforts of picking it apart, flaw by flaw. He wasnt a beautiful statue, and he knew that it was wasted time when people even bothered to pass their eyes over him, but, Kurt, as different as hed always been, didnt seem to think that of his awkward posture. His bright eyes didnt waver as he looked Blaine over, and he certainly didnt think him boring, even though Blaine had bored of himself long ago. Blaine didnt understand why, but he knew that he would drive himself insane if he tried. When he had met Kurt, he knew he had to teach himself to accept, and not ask why, because he wasnt sure if Kurt even understood why the two of them, so opposite of each other, but just different enough to be the same, had fallen in love.

A soft voice suddenly pulled him from the thoughts he hadnt realized hed fallen so far into, and he blinked his blank eyes at Kurt, who gave him a gentle smile, "You think more than any man Ive ever met. You question everything, dont you?" Blaine was starting to debate if he said everything that went through his mind out loud. He wanted to pinch himself every time he felt himself sinking back into his head, which always felt very weighed down by the enormity of all of the worries that had ever crashed down on him. Nothing ever came on slowly for him, like a light sprinkle raining down from the sky, something he could easily brush off and quickly dry from, but, instead, every what if and each concern drenched him like a thunderstorm. He couldnt find a safe place to hide from the lightning and thunder, and he never completely dried from the last storm before another hit him. Whether he wanted it to or not, the rain came, which was why, from the time that he was a baby, hed cried at every storm.

Aggravated that his thoughts had overwhelmed every sense in his body, when all hed been thinking about was how much he hated his thoughts, Blaine snapped out of himself, determined to gain control over his nonsensical concerns. Kurt was still watching him when he came back to himself, a curious look on his face, and he reached up to Blaines jaw. Tenderly stroking him, Kurt whispered, "Sometimes... I wish I could read your mind. I wonder what I would see when you make that face... those pressed lips and narrowed eyes." He ran his fingers over Blaines white, gnawed lips, and Kurts lashes drooped, "But then... I fear what I might see."

Lowering his lids, he cleared his throat, trying to cough up some of the water that had just soaked his mind. "Thank you..." He said quietly, averting his eyes from Kurt and back to the cake. "For my birthday party." As Kurt whirled away, his attention returned to the yummy cake that his belly was yearning for, Blaine kept his eyes on him while he carefully picked it up and carried it to the kitchen table. "And for you." He added, his voice no louder than a whisper that only his ears could pick up. Kurt called for his dad, and then he darted back over to the counter in his search for matches and a knife. As soon as his dad came in, Kurt handed them over to him.

Taking them to the table, where Kurt hurried to, Burt set them down and turned to Blaine. "Happy birthday, kid." He scrubbed Blaines hair, and then grabbed his sleeve and tugged him closer. "Come over here." When Blaine was pressed against the table, Kurt scampered over to his side, snuggling against him. Burt struck a match and held the blaze over the candles, and, one by one, a bright, yellow light flickered across all of their faces.

Kurt happily bounced on his toes, and he patted Blaines arm, "Blow them out and make a wish!" Blaine, who had never given much thought to wishing because everything hed ever had, he had to earn by his own hard work and sacrifice, thought about Kurt. Kurt had come without effort on his part, just showed up one day, because both of them had been lonely and had needed a best friend, something neither of them had had before. He guessed that Kurt had come to him because of a wish he hadnt known hed made, and that brought a smile to his lips.

Bowing over Kurt, Blaine kissed the top of his head, watching those candles flicker and dim, just waiting to be blown out. "I already have everything I want." He murmured, and Kurts blue eyes lifted to his chin, which was the only thing he could see. "I want you to make a wish for me."

Kurt curled into his chest, his blue eyes closing for a few brief seconds, and then he opened them again. Bending over the candles, he blew out, and smoke rose to his face in the place of the heat from the tiny fires. "I wish that Blaine and I could be together forever... and that I could make him so happy that he starts listening to his heart." He lifted from the cake, a small smile quivering on his lips, as if he was unsure if Blaine would be happy with his wish or not. "Your heart knows that I love you, Blaine... but your head is still unsure."

Blaine sat down in the closest chair, his eyes lowering to his lap, which was suddenly covered by Kurts dress. Finding himself staring at Kurts legs, Blaine tilted his chin as Kurt pressed another kiss to his jaw, and a pair of thin arms wrapped around his neck. Even though Blaine couldnt force himself to believe that anyone so beautiful could want him, he knew, as he held Kurt in his arms, that all of him, mind and heart, was madly in love with him. He was soon handed a piece of cake that Kurt playfully stole a bite of, making a show of sticking his fork into his mouth and chewing with bigger bites than was necessary. Helplessly smirking at his best friend, Blaine slid his finger through the icing, and he dotted Kurts nose with pink. Kurt scrunched his face up at him, and then he nuzzled his nose against Blaines, smearing the icing between them.

Both of them laughed together, and Blaine stuck his tongue out to lick the trail of pink, revealing a softer pink underneath as a blush painted Kurts white skin. Wiping his own face off, Blaine finally picked up his fork and scooped a bite of cake into his mouth. He chewed the vanilla crumbs very slowly, savoring the soft cake that melted onto his tongue. "This is very good." He said after he swallowed his first bite, and as Kurt appreciatively smiled, Blaine dug his fork back into the spongy cake.

After he put it in his mouth, Burt came up to him and tapped his shoulder, showing him a small box that was wrapped in silver paper. Blaine figured that it must have been from Burt because there were no bows anywhere to be seen. "Bud, Id like to stick around to celebrate your birthday with you, but Ive got to go in to the shop today. I picked something small up for you... I hope you like it." He rubbed Blaines head again before he stepped back, "Ill see you tonight, okay? Bye, honey." After he kissed Kurts forehead, he went over to the counter and picked up a toolbox, then left.

Turning his eyes away from the kitchen door that was swinging shut behind him, Blaine glimpsed at Kurt, who patted his chest. "Open your present!" He picked up Blaines present and shook it, then he handed it to him when he figured out that it didnt make a sound. Peeling the paper away, Blaine smiled at the pretty picture within, one of Blaine sitting down by the trunk of a tree and staring up at Kurt, who was sitting on a limb above him and hanging upside down. Kurt was holding onto Blaines hands so he could keep his balance, and their smiling lips were pressed together. "How pretty." Kurt cooed, taking the picture frame from Blaine and hugging it to his chest. "Well put this in our room."

Setting his emptied plate of cake down, Blaine scooted off of his chair when Kurt started to get up. He held his hand out for him and walked to the living room with him, where Kurt went over to the couch and picked up another box. He lowered to the edge of a cushion and beckoned Blaine over to him, handing him the box as soon as he sat down beside of him. "Blaine, I want you to know that I treasure you more than all the diamonds in the world." Leaning against him, Kurt whispered, "You make me happier than any jewel ever has. But, to me... you are like a jewel... perhaps gold. Few can ever touch you because they never earn you... and you try not to stand out... but you still do. And I want you to see that... Youre the only person who doesnt."

Blaine, uncertain of what Kurt was going to do, slowly ripped the blue paper off of the box, and he peeled one flap aside. Inside was a fragile mirror, a white one with a handle, and intricate patterns swirled and swiveled up and down the sides in the shapes of vines and beautiful flowers. Blaine immediately saw himself in it because he was looking down at it, and he frowned and turned back to Kurt, who reached inside the box and picked the mirror up. "I dont see how youre not vain." He said softly, laying the mirror in Blaines hands. "Blaine, youre beautiful."

Convincing himself to look down at the mirror, Blaine strained his eyes in his attempt not to close them. He was embarrassed with himself as Kurt appeared beside of him, something so precious and perfect next to him, a thick and dark and plain nothing. The only golden thing about him was his eyes, which were even a shade too dark to be the bright and luminous gold that people wanted. He was more like a slab of gold that had been dropped into murky mud. "Blaine?" Kurts pink lips moved in the mirror, and Blaine glanced up at him again. As he stared at Kurts small, pointy face, with those perfectly round cheeks, and that pair of plump, pink lips, and those thick fans of blond lashes that shaded his brilliant, blue eyes, Blaine felt tears swell in his own. The thunderstorms were back. It was time to desperately run around in circles in his never ending search for shelter.

Pulling away from Kurt, Blaine put the mirror aside, and he darted from the couch. He didnt know where he was bolting off to, but he ended up in the bathroom. After he shut the door, he panicked because this was the worst place for him to be, and he shoved away from the mirror that was hanging on the wall. Throwing himself against the tub, Blaine sank to his butt and shoved his hands into his hair. He dropped his head so he could hide his face. From the time that he was a baby, hed never been anything wonderful. People never stopped by his crib to coo that he was such a pretty baby. Hed grown up knowing that he had never and would never be someone spectacular, not in looks nor in thought. Blaine was simple, and he hated simple.

The door creaking open alerted Blaine from his stupid self-pity, and he blinked his sopping eyes at Kurt, who blinked back at him. He came to Blaines side and held onto him, pulling him to his chest. As he gently rubbed and stroked Blaine, he murmured softly, "I love you because youve never hurt me. Blaine, you have kind eyes... and gentle hands. It was you who made me feel better last night... and itll be you when you make me feel better in twenty years."

Blaine wondered what kind eyes looked like. He wasnt sure what Kurt meant when he said it, but then he looked up at those big, blue eyes that were sparkling with emotion, and he saw all the beauty-kindness and tenderness and lovingness-that Blaine wasnt. Blaine was certain that Kurt was wrong that he had those same kind eyes, but he wanted so badly to see what Kurt saw in him, just to prove to himself that he wasnt all the awfulness that nearly everyone else had made him out to be. He wasnt sure if that day would ever come, when Blaine could finally look into a mirror and stand tall, instead of shrinking into himself, but Kurt had never been wrong before. While he couldnt look to himself and feel love, he could at least look at Kurt and love the idea of what he saw.

After a filling breakfast of pancakes and fruits, his husband and son had gone out for the day to spend some time with Laurice, who had offered to take them shopping and stop to get ice cream. Archer had squealed at the fun day his great aunt had set out in front of him, and hed snatched it up as quickly as he did a new doll Blaine held out for him. He knew very little of France, except that, outside his window, it was a beautiful place to find peace, if he didnt get swept away in the hustle and bustle near the middle of the city. Hed been told that Kurt had been raised here, and that his père was of French descent, but he hadnt understood what any of that meant. To Archer, it didnt matter where he was, as long as he got his fill of enjoyment out of it. To give Kurt the private time that he needed with his aunt to discuss things that he couldnt when Blaine was near-Blaine knew that Kurt kept no secrets from him, but that he relied on his aunt to be a positive influence for him in times like this, and when he was little and had just lost his mom-Blaine had opted out of going with them and had retired to a day of straightening up the house.

With only him and Keegan in the house, things were silent, and all Blaine could hear was the humming of the air conditioner. He decided to open up a window to let in the songs of birds, and the rustling of grass, and the crunching of leaves. As he went over to the first window he saw and pushed it open, he leaned out and breathed in the fresh air. It was very refreshing on his tight lungs, and he relaxed and went limp over the windowsill. He could have stayed like that for hours, but the clapping of footsteps on the stairs turned him around. Keegan, who stayed shut in his room for most of the time, appeared at the bottom of the steps, a wide eyed look on his face. He reminded Blaine of a man who had just woken up from a deep and long sleep, and who had no clue where or even who he was. Blaine frowned at him. Sometimes, Blaine wished he could live a life like that, and just forget the last twenty one years of his life, but then he remembered all of the amazing moments hed had, from having Kurt with him throughout all his life, to having two children, to getting a family. A small and broken family, but a perfect one, nonetheless.

Twisting back around to the window, Blaine rested his chin on his knuckles, and he watched a bird fly by, landing in a tall tree that had been planted just outside the garden. "Good morning." He said quietly, and he heard Keegan mumble it back. Keegan was an intelligent and inquisitive man who was also very caring, but, like Blaine, he had very few words to admit to those things. Blaine had learned that Keegan only opened his mouth if he had something incredibly important to give away, but, besides that, the only noises he let out were coos over Archer. Somehow knowing that Keegan hadnt slinked away to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat and then returned upstairs, Blaine flicked his eyes over his shoulder, and he found him still standing there, with that same expression on his face. "Whats wrong?"

"Theres something I want to show you." Keegan said, and Blaine pulled away from the window. Lowering his brows, Blaine walked over to Keegan when he waved his hand, and he followed him over to the door. "Come on. Its not far." He kept up on Keegans heels, letting him guide him wherever he pleased, and he wondered what was going through that blond head. Keegan was someone that Blaine couldnt read, not that he could read many people, like Kurt could. Blaine knew that when he was younger, he was more careless, like the teenager he was supposed to be. But, after Evies death, Keegan had simply stopped teasing and taken on a more protective role in Kurts life, rather than just a best friend. He was someone that Blaine would have trusted to take care of him in his absence, and even his baby. Blaine respected him for his strength after the death of his true love, knowing that after his attempt to kill himself, he hadnt tried again once he figured out how much Kurt really did love and need him. Blaine had once been in the same situation, fighting the urge to end it all because he knew he had his babies, who depended on him. And part of him also hadnt given up hope on Kurt, while Keegan didnt even have that.

"Where are we going?" Blaine muttered, hurrying after Keegan when he got several paces ahead. Keegan was one of the tallest men Blaine had ever met, at least one or two inches over six feet, and his long legs carried him farther than Blaine, who was one of the shortest men he knew. Even Kurt was a few inches taller, but Blaine still had more weight than either of them. Suddenly embarrassed as he thought of his shortness and thickness, Blaine shook his head to clear his mind, and he returned his attention to Keegan, who hadnt said anything for quite a few minutes. "Keegan?"

They usually never left the quieter side of Paris, where the traffic wasnt heavy and the crowds were slim. Blaine wondered if he would run into his husband and son on their trip out, but Keegan suddenly turned a sharp corner to an area that Kurt probably wouldnt venture to on their fun day, because they stopped in front of a cemetery. It wasnt very large, but it was still treated with care, and hadnt been forgotten about because there were fresh flowers at a couple of the graves. Frowning at the new area that Blaine had never been to before, he turned to Keegan, who went ahead of him. He followed on Keegans heels, and they stopped just inside of the grassy area. "This is where Kurts mom is buried." He said quietly, leading Blaine over to a patch of grass that had a silver stone stuck into it. Kneeling beside of the stone, Keegan ran his fingers over the words that were written in French. Blaine could only read her name. "She died when she was only thirty two years old. She had so much ahead of her, Blaine. There was so much more she could have done."

Blaine sat down beside of Keegan, and he looked down at the patch of grass, where such an amazing woman would forever rest. "I think I knew her... when I was little. I just... cant remember. Kurt told me that she was warm and gentle... He grew up to be just like her, didnt he?" At Keegans small nod, Blaine rested his hand on the stone, "You lost Evie when he was only seventeen. You must know what its like to lose."

"For a long time, I thought I had lost Kurt, too." Keegan muttered, playing with a string on his jacket, "He went back to America when he was eighteen... and we didnt speak to each other for the longest time. I thought he was just... gone... even though he told me he would come back. I kept hoping for that day to come... and then it did... and I ran to him. Blaine, I had watched him grow up. He was eight years old when I met him... I watched eight turn to nine... and nine to ten. And then he came back... and hes grown. Hes become this beautiful and wise person... Hes not naïve anymore. He still has some of his childish innocence, but, Blaine... hes grown. Hes nearly twenty one now. You know, I wanted to hate you when he first told me about you. You had hurt him... and if I had seen you then, I probably would have punched you."

Blaine stiffened at those words, but he couldnt blame Keegan. He had wanted to punch himself, and even worse. "Now I realize... what you had done. What you had been through. And I... get it. Do you think that I didnt get strange looks when people saw that I loved a... a prostitute? Ive never liked that word, but I guess thats what Evie was. Blaine, Kurts mom wouldnt have hated you for sleeping around... She would have still loved you like her own. And Kurt never hated you, either. He didnt blame you... he wasnt even mad at you. That kind of love... is hard to find. I did... and hes gone now. Burt did, and shes here now. Kurts still here... and he needs you now more than ever." When Blaine raised his eyes to Keegans face, he was startled to find tears in the corners of his eyes. Keegan slowly moved toward him and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tightly, "I wanted to thank you for being the best husband for Kurt. I wouldnt want him to be in love with anyone else... not even me... when youre the greatest thing that could have happened to him. Blaine, for a long time... I did think of proposing to him... before I met Evie. But Im glad hes yours. Kurt needs your strength... both mentally and physically. Im not as strong as you are. I cant provide for him like you can. Im flighty... but youre like a rock... and thats what Kurt needs."

Releasing Keegan when he started to pull away, Blaine held his hand out in automatic response to the hand that Keegan gave to him, "Come on. Theres someone else I want to show you." Once again, Blaine moved with Keegan, who, although quiet, was, in other ways, nothing like him. At twenty one, Blaine still had a lot to learn about life, and he was starting to figure out that he was the only one like him, the only one seen as fit to be with Kurt.

Hunter was fearless. The worst thing that could have ever happened to him had happened. There was nothing left for him to be afraid of, not even Karofsky. Without knowing he had done it, Karofsky had given away the only power he had over Hunter, intimidation. Karofsky would hurt him, Hunter knew, and hurt him badly, but the day that he had stuck Hunter in the oven, he had pulled him back out. Karofsky wouldnt kill him, but he would let him flounder like a fish above water, desperately fighting to be put back in the only thing that he could breathe in. And now that Hunter had been alerted of Karofskys weakness, he was the stronger of the two. Karofsky needed him, but he didnt need Karofsky.

Now Hunter just had to wait. Waiting took such a long time, and Hunters patience was wearing thin, not that he had much in the first place. He hated being idle. But his vision was still on the run from him, and he knew that until he sought it out again, he couldnt flee Karofsky. No matter how little Hunter worried over him, he knew that Karofsky wasnt completely oblivious to him. In fact, Hunter knew that Karofsky always had one eye turned to him. Hunter was waiting for his vision to come back because he didnt have much of a chance to outrun Karofsky with it, let alone without it. Luckily, after several months in Karofskys possession, Hunter had fallen into a steady sway with his capturer. The waters were still rocky, but the worst of the storms had ceased.

In his dull moments when he had to sit and wait for Karofsky to return from work so he could give him a new bottle of paint, which he needed to finish the work that had possessed him night and day, Hunter grew weary, but not tired. He didnt sleep much anymore. It wasnt that he dreaded that Karofsky would dare cross the invisible boundary that was supposed to keep him out of Hunters new room. There was a silent understanding between the two of them that Hunters space was exactly that, a place to have his few moments of peace, away from Karofsky. Hunter couldnt sleep because part of him, the part that remembered his daddys gentle touch, and the sweet voice of his père, and the silly kisses of his best friend, still longed for his daddy to magically appear above his bed and take him away from this place. So, just in case his daddy did come and call out for him, Hunter didnt want to miss it, and he forced himself up for many hours of the day and night. He distracted himself from exhaustion with his most favorite painting, one that he knew would never be complete and always needed his attention. It was the one with so much blue in it.

Besides, Hunter hated sleeping in itself because, open or closed, his eyes were always dark. And he hated that. Bored of just going over everything that he despised about his new situation, which would, in the end, do nothing but remind him that he was in a bad place, Hunter decided to search this new place that he lived in. Hed ran his hands over all of the surfaces and discovered that this room hadnt been lived in for a very long time, when he pulled them up and felt nothing but chalky dust caked in the lines in his palms. But Hunter had never opened any of the drawers. With nothing else to do, Hunter ventured over to one of the dressers, but bumped into an easel on the way. Quietly growling to himself at the mistake that he couldnt make again-at least, not in front of Karofsky-Hunter continued over to the dresser and held his hands out to confirm that he was standing in front of it and not a wall. He caught the edge of it, and relief filled him that hed managed to memorize his new room without forgetfulness.

Sliding his hands down the front, Hunter grabbed a handle and pulled, opening one of what he had counted was five drawers. He laid his hand inside and felt around, finding nothing more than a flashlight and a few matches. Hunter frowned at the bitter irony of someone leaving those things to him. Promptly shutting that drawer before he could be completely overwhelmed by aggravation and anger, he moved to the next, which was empty. The next few were, also, but when he came across the last, he found a startling object that he couldnt identify. He grabbed all over what he thought was cool metal, feeling indentations and buttons. Pulling the object up, Hunter ran his finger over a part that moved, and he carefully squeezed it, wondering what it did. Suddenly, a noisy bang, like a window cracking, echoed all around his small room, the sound so loud that Hunters ears rang. Crying out, Hunter dropped the frightening object and covered his ears.

After the sound settled, Hunter cautiously reached out for the object so he could store it away again, never to consider it after that day. But when his hand closed around it, he felt heat, and he moved his finger along the object, avoiding the part that had caused such a resounding raucous. He touched a burning part that singed his finger, an open hole that he could tell smoke was wafting out of. Putting the object back in the drawer, Hunter got to his hands and feet. He went in the direction that the object had exploded, trying to grasp if the thing was all bark and no bite. As he crawled forward, his knee bumped into something small, which rolled away from him. He wrapped his fingers around the hot metal, and he realized that the object, if not meant to kill, could. It had power behind it, something that Hunter didnt have. At least, not yet. Something so tiny could take Karofsky down in a matter of seconds, and knowing that gave Hunter hope. It was an unsure hope, wavering and irresolute, because this thing could also take Hunter down. No matter what happened, he couldnt let Karofsky get a hold of this.

Hurrying back over to the drawer, Hunter dropped the fired object back in, and he slammed it shut. He sank onto his bottom by the drawer, leaning his back against it. Hunter never wanted to use that object again. He would just get out and go back to his safe and peaceful home, where such painful weapons werent known. Closing his eyes, Hunter felt a tear wash over an eye that couldnt be blurred by it. It fell from his lashes and rolled down his cheek, then paused at his chin. After a moment of quivering and wobbling, it collapsed to the bottom of his shirt. "Daddy... I cant do this on my own." He whispered to no one, and then he bowed over himself and sobbed. He wished he could see the thunderstorm that had gathered in his eyes, that way he could know the devastation that rumbled from him, and the anger that struck out of him like lightning. That way he could know that he felt anything.