Kurt shot up from his bed. He was breathing heavily and his eyes scanned the room around him. Safe. He placed his hands on his chest, willing himself to calm down. He took a few long, controlled breaths before lowering his arms again. After his breathing returned to normal, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them hard. It was something he remembered his mom had told him to do when he had bad dreams. For some reason, rubbing his eyes would keep the dream from returning for the rest of the night. Unfortunately that didn't keep them from coming forever. He had learned to expect at least one nightmare every other day. At first he would go to his dad for comfort, but soon Kurt noticed that Burt was growing tired of waking up all of the time, so, Kurt began to console himself. The first few times he had sobbed uncontrollably, unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Before long, only a few tears would fall. Now, almost a year later, Kurt had hardened himself. No tears, no screams, just wide eyes and a heavy heart.

The dream was somewhat hazy for Kurt, but the last words he had heard still reverberated though his head: "He's so different. Weird. Unnatural." He remembered being alone, and darkness had surrounded him. It wasn't quite the same as the dark of the night, where the moon and streetlights cut into black curtain. This was a shadowy dark that had no escape. And the noise! Shouts and hollers simultaneously with hushed whispers. It had been complete chaos. The words he had only heard in whispers around him in real life were shouted loud enough for all to hear in the dream.

He hated this. Even after he got over the initial shock, the fear stuck with him for the rest of the night. He fell back onto his pillow again, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall back asleep. He closed his eyes and hummed a senseless tune to himself. After this proved to be inefficient, he cracked his eyes open again, and glanced around the room. It was at times like this that he missed Blaine. He hadn't seen Blaine since the flower incident. He wanted to go back so badly, but his pride wouldn't allow him to return without an apology from Blaine first.

His mind wandered to the last time Blaine had slept over at his house. Halfway through the night Blaine had ended up sprawled sideways on the bed, draped over Kurt's legs. At the time it had annoyed Kurt because he couldn't roll over, but now he would give anything to have his old friend in the same room with him.

He saw the stuffed unicorn he had since he was little on the shelf across from him. He had put it there a while ago, claiming that he was too old to sleep with a stuffed animal anymore. Tonight would have to be an exception. It was just the childish comfort he needed at the moment. He kicked off the sheets and rolled hazily out of bed. He blinked away the dizziness that came with his sudden movement and shuffled over to the shelf. He pulled the unicorn down; "Uni," he remembered he had called it. Bringing it back to the bed, he pulled the sheet over himself and curled his body around the small toy. The hair from the mane tickled his nose, but he didn't move a muscle, determined to fall back asleep. And sleep he did.

Blaine sat at his desk at school. He felt oddly separated from everyone else. Before, when Kurt was still in elementary with him, before he had yelled at Kurt, they would at least see each other every day before school and on the way home. Not anymore.

He had a lot of friends. That was mostly because he was the one that would organize the games during free time. People would copy him when they didn't know what to do. A few boys had even worn bowties for a while that year to be more like him. It seemed like everyone looked up to him, but there was no one that was there for him. If someone fell and scraped their knee, Blaine would always help them stand up and call a teacher. When Blaine got hurt, however, the other boys and girls would shuffle awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Every time that would happen, he sincerely wished Kurt was still his friend.

That one day in particular, he felt especially lonely. The teacher was talking at the front of the room, trying to explain division to the many students that hadn't grasped the concept yet. Of course Blaine already knew what was going on, and was daydreaming instead. It was the same scenario that he had played over and over in his mind. It was him going to Kurt's house, apologizing, and then everything would go back to normal. But Blaine was terrified of going back. What if Kurt decided he didn't want to be friends anymore? He feared that Kurt would reject him, and then everything would be worse. At least now there was the possibility that Kurt would still want to be friends.

Blaine looked up, running his hands though his curls. Just thinking about his lost friendship often depressed him. He put his head down and closed his eyes, willing his mind to think about something happier.

"Mr. Anderson," He heard his teacher call sternly from the front of the room, "please keep your head up when I'm teaching."

Blaine felt the heat creep up his face as he looked up towards the teacher. He mumbled a quiet apology and fixed his eyes on the front board. His mind, however, still rambled. He sighed as his teacher explained for the fourth time why twelve divided by two was six.

Two weeks later, Blaine sat at the dinner table with his mom and dad. Cooper had left for college at the beginning of the year in California. His parents nearly had heart attacks when Cooper insisted on going to a public school rather than follow in his dad's footsteps and go to Yale. Only after Cooper threatened to run away to LA did they finally give in. So now, unless it was the holiday, it was just Blaine and his two uppity parents.

"Blaine, sit up. You're slouching again."

"Yessir," he muttered and straightened out his back. Mr. Anderson was a severe man. He always wore a suit and took it upon himself to raise Blaine proper. Cooper had inherited his sharp jaw line, and Blaine shared his eyes. However, they lacked the luster that could usually be found behind Blaine's hazel irises. Mr. Anderson had sworn off most emotion years before. It's an essential skill for many lawyers.

Mrs. Anderson was the perfect match to her husband. She was from a traditional Christian family, and liked to let everyone know. She worked for the local government, pushing a conservative agenda with the occasional help of her husband. She kept up her appearances and expected her family to do the same. That night she sat tight lipped and focused heavily on her food.

The three of them sat in silence. Every now and then the two elder members would exchange a sentence or two discussing their work. They barely acknowledged Blaine's existence unless it was to correct his form or remind him to take his elbows off of the table. Blaine ate as quickly as possible, and then sat with his hands in his lap, waiting to be excused. After a few minutes his mom nodded at him and he took his plate and left. He dropped his dishes into the sink and trudged up to his room.

He flopped himself on his bed and lay there for a few minutes. Blaine despised family dinners. The constant nagging of his mother and sideways glances made by his father always made him miserable. Why on earth was he never good enough? Had he done something to make his parents so distant?

Questions like these ran through Blaine's head, until he could no longer stand it anymore. His misery turned into rage. He deserved to be cared for. He knew it. Cooper had always told him to ignore their parent's comments. Blaine tried. He tried so hard, but sometimes it was harder to ignore their silence.

Fuming, he gathered himself up into standing position. He flung his pillow across the room, hoping it would do some damage. It hit the wall with a soft thud, and then dropped to the ground. At that point he lost it. He couldn't stand his perfectly clean room. He opened drawers and pitched their contents. He messed up his bed sheets, knocked over his hamper, threw up handfuls of paper and watched them flutter to the ground.

Five minutes later the room was a disaster. He wasn't a huge fan of the mess, but it felt different enough to placate him. Sighing, he dropped down and sat with his legs crossed in the middle of the room. He noticed he had sat on something, so he shifted a little and felt it crack beneath him. He rocked onto on side and pulled the object out from under him.

It was a picture frame. Inside it was a picture of him, Kurt, and Elizabeth at the zoo; the bird sanctuary, in fact. He didn't remember taking the picture, or how old he was at the time. It had to be at least 5 years ago. Blaine pulled away the broken glass and set it on his desk a few feet away. He then slid the photo out and examined it closer.  Kurt was holding tightly onto his mom's arm, and Blaine was looking up at something above him. Kurt's mom was hugging them both and smiling not at the camera, but at the person behind it.

Elizabeth. He had promised her. He had promised to take care of Kurt, and that was exactly what he hadn't been doing that entire year.

The handle to Blaine's door turned and the boy paled and the photograph fell out of his hands. He knew the trouble he would be in once the state of his room was discovered. Nothing irked his parents more than disorder. The door swung open and Blaine's own mother came in. She took one look at the disaster and her face twisted in anger.

"Blaine Anderson!" she screeched, "what in God's name are you doing? This is completely, absolutely unacceptable."

Blaine opened his mouth to apologize, but she cut him off before he could get more that a syllable out.

"I don't know what is going on in that head of yours but you will clean this. Instantly. I don't know what possessed you to do this, and I don't care. Just watch, you'll end up worse than Cooper." She was breathing hard and going off on a tangent as usual. It wasn't really about the mess; it was more of the fact that she feared Blaine would rebel just like his older brother.

"You'll run away with some trashy girl, convinced you'll make it big in some city somewhere, then come crawling back five years later. I won't have it! You'll follow my rules while you are in this house, and you're going to follow the straight path. You'll start by cleaning this now, and I expect you to keep it that way for good. For god's sake, you're ten years old. You know you aren't supposed to do this."

Ms. Anderson spun around and left, slamming the door behind her. Blaine, a bit confused, but more hurt, began to gather his things. He ended up tossing the majority of his items in the trash bin, he didn't want them anymore. He picked up the photograph again. Kurt. He needed Kurt. He promised to take care of Kurt for Elizabeth, but right now he needed someone willing to take care of him too.

Kurt was the only great thing in his life still within reach. "You know what?" he thought to himself, "I'm going to go see him." He could spend the rest of his time moping around, or he could just go for it. Not like he had much to lose at this point.

Blaine shoved the majority of the mess under his bed and hastily made his way out. It was late, and he knew he would be in trouble when he got back, but he didn't care. He glanced around the corner of his bedroom. He heard the distinct sound of two keyboards typing in unison a few doors down. They were working. Making sure his parents wouldn't see him leaving, he slipped out of the back door without a sound. He raced around to the front of the house, and went down the street. While he was running, he pushed away the voice of doubt that had followed him around for the past twelve months. There was no way he was going to let it stop him this time. He was sick and tired of the loneliness.

Nearly ten minutes later, he arrived at the Hummel home, huffing and puffing. He stopped at the entrance of the drive way. Everything was just as he remembered. The bushes were slightly larger, but still neatly trimmed. Blaine gathered whatever spontaneity and courage he still had and knocked on the door before he could think twice. He paced in front of the entrance, unsure of what to do or say if the door actually opened.

The door opened and Burt Hummel stood with a perplexed look on his face. "Blaine?"

"H-hello Mr. Hummel sir, I-I came to talk to Kurt if that's okay with you." Blaine stammered.

Burt was a bit uneasy. Blaine was the one that had hurt Kurt in the first place, but his absence seemed to have an even worse effect. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded and stepped to the side. "He's probably in his room, just knock."

Blaine smiled graciously at Burt and barreled up the stairs two at a time. He reached Kurt's familiar room and knocked on the door. He didn't bother waiting for an answer; he walked right in, ready to tell everything to the one person that might still care.

Kurt glanced up, expecting his father. When instead he saw the unmistakable mop of curly hair, he shot up from the chair and dropped the book he had been reading. His face changed from one of confusion, to elation, to guarded excitement. "Blaine?"

When Blaine heard Kurt's voice, he lost his own. He had been prepared to apologize to Kurt, to tell him he had been mean and wasn't thinking. He was sorry for yelling at Kurt, he was sorry for letting him leave, and he was sorry for not coming back for him for so long. Instead, Blaine threw himself across the room and wrapped his arms around Kurt. He didn't care about anything in the world as long as Kurt didn't push him off.

The older boy tensed. He hadn't expected this, but then again he hadn't expected Blaine to show up either. Eventually, he relaxed and hugged Blaine back. He wanted to say something, but wasn't exactly sure what to say. He fought with himself trying to find the right words. He then noticed Blaine was now shaking slightly in his arms.

He was crying. Tears streamed down Blaine's face. Whether from joy or despair, neither of them knew. He was so happy to finally have someone willing to offer comfort. Every moment he had been alone came back to him in a flood. He gasped for air, "I'm…so so sorry Kurt. I didn't mean it. I promise. Promise."

Blaine was a blubbering mess. Kurt led him to the bed and sat him down. He didn't say anything. He didn't need too. He just sat there with Blaine until he had composed himself. Both of them knew things wouldn't be quite the same from now on, but at least they were together again.

The two didn't move until long after the sun had set and Blaine finally got up to go home.

"I never meant to hurt you Kurt," Blaine said.

"I know," Kurt simply responded.

"Could I come over tomorrow?"

"I would love it if you did," Kurt said earnestly. He gave Blaine one last hug before leading him to the door.

Blaine returned home and had to bear through a two hour lecture on the dangers of running from home. But it was okay, because he had his best friend back. This time, he intended on doing everything in his ability to hold on to him for good.