The boy, Blaine, was on his knees, his face in Kurt's lap, his arms around Kurt's waist, sobbing his eyes out.

“Hey, Blaine, hey...” Kurt tried to calm him. Blaine sat back a little, rubbing his eyes with his tattered sleeve. He looked up at Kurt.

“You're the one that found my pigeon, aren't you? You wrote back and told me you were coming. I thought I was imagining it all. I missed the bird, Chloe, I named her. I put the message on her leg, but I never thought she'd come back. Where did you find her?”

Kurt thought there were a lot of other questions that needed to be answered first, but he wanted this boy to calm down, so he answered.

“I was mowing the lawn two weeks ago and she was stuck in a rose bramble. I cut her free, but she had damaged her wing, so I tied her in my handkerchief and took her to the vet. I found your message, but had no idea where you were,” he said. “The vet said she could fly in two weeks, so I fed her and took care of her, then Puck and I came back to do the lawn and let her fly. I saw her land on your windowsill.”

“Oh, thank God for that bird. I was here for two years before I thought to catch one of the pigeons. That was over a year ago, and I fed her and trained her. I remembered it from The Swiss Family Robinson, when Jenny was trapped on the other side of the island and she put a note on a seagull.”

“But Blaine, what did you write with? It looked like blood...” Kurt said.

“It was. I don't have any paper, so I tore off a piece of my shirt and used a sliver to prick my finger. It took me most of a week to do that.”

“Oh, Blaine. That's awful. But it worked. Here I am,” Kurt said, looking around. The room was about 15 feet square, oak paneled with one window, wrought iron bars keeping Blaine from climbing out. There were two old chairs, one was blue velvet, but looked moth-eaten and the other was gray toille. There was a mattress on the floor in the corner, a trunk where Kurt was presently sitting, and a screen in the far corner. The room smelled like damp rot, a little like urine and neglect. There was dust on most of the surfaces and words scratched in the walls -a lot of lines that indicated someone was keeping some type of score. Or a calendar, Kurt thought as they were grouped in sets of seven and those in groups of four. If that's what it was, Blaine had been here for a long time. Years.

“Quiet!” Blaine put his finger to Kurt's lips. “I can hear the watchman. He will leave me the food and water for the night and then check the door and leave. Just be quiet, he never comes in, just shoves it all through the slot in the door.”

Kurt froze, then moved to sit on the floor behind a chair. He could hear footsteps and prayed that Puck had made it out of the house safely. The slot in the door opened and a tray was pushed through. Blaine went to take it. It had a piece of bread, some watery soup and a plastic 2 liter bottle of water. Blaine shoved an empty tray with dishes and an empty water bottle back through the slot and it was taken away. Blaine didn't say anything, just took the tray and they could hear the man on the other side mumble to himself, “She's getting old, forgot to arm the alarm, she did. Left the door unlocked, she did. If I'd have done that, she would have turned me over to her husband....” and the voice faded as he walked back down the hallway. Kurt took a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. They heard the man close a door and then the steps were gone. In a few minutes, there was a faint sound of a car starting and Blaine took a breath.

“He's gone.”

“What is going on here, Blaine? Why are you locked in this attic?” Kurt was getting a bit hysterical himself. Blaine blushed.

“Let's eat and then I'll tell you what you want to know, okay?” he asked.

“Okay.”

Blaine split the bread in half and offered the cold soup to Kurt first, though he drank his half of the water right away.

Kurt pushed the soup over to Blaine untouched and took a small amount of bread. He searched through his pockets and came up with four granola bars, a chocolate candy bar, an apple, and a bottle of grape juice – all of which he handed over to Blaine. Blaine's eyes lit up, but he wouldn't take it all, so they shared the food.

It was getting cold by now, and Kurt went to shut the window.

“It doesn't shut, I'm afraid,' Blaine said. “I have tried to put something over it, but the wind just knocks down whatever I find. I just wrap up in a blanket and go to sleep.”

Kurt looked over at Blaine. He didn't even know where to start asking questions, but he was cold so he asked for the blanket.

“I have two. But if we want to stay warm tonight, it's better if we sleep together and share both blankets, if that's okay.” Blaine wouldn't meet Kurt's eyes.

“Okay.” Kurt said, he really didn't have much choice.

Blaine got up and walked to a screen in the corner. “I don't have plumbing here, just the bucket. I can throw it down the chute in the corner when I use it. I'm sorry, Kurt. It's all I have.”

Kurt just looked at him. He shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the screen and used the bucket, draining it down the chute when he was done.

Blaine laid the blankets over the mattress on the floor and got under them, moving over for Kurt to come, too. Kurt sat on top of the blankets, not sure what he wanted to do. But it was really getting cold, so he finally got under the covers, a foot or so of space between him and Blaine.

“Tell me.” he said, and Blaine started.

“I was twelve. At dinner one night, I was kind of excited, I had figured something out and I wanted to share it with my parents. I have a brother, Cooper, who is 12 years older than I am. He was away at school and my parents were so proud of him. I wanted them to be proud of me, too. I had finally gotten up the courage to speak those words out loud. I told them I was gay. But they didn't smile or tell me it was good I'd found the answer to my confusion. They got angry.

“At first, Father said I wasn't. I assured him I was. That was the wrong thing to do. He locked me in my bedroom and I could hear when one of my friends called, he told them I was at school in Switzerland. I guess they all believed him because they stopped calling. I was locked in my room for a month. I finally climbed out the window and fell, broke my wrist,” Blaine said and held out his arm. The wrist was at a funny angle, obviously broken but not set properly. Kurt blinked back tears at seeing how much pain this boy had gone through.

“It wasn't long after that Father brought me up here and locked me in this room. That was almost three years ago. I haven't spoken to or seen anyone but the guy I call the Watchman. I don't know his name, but I've tried to ask him for help, tried to offer him money, tried just to get him to say hello to me – but he never says anything to me. Just mutters to himself a lot. I actually think he's deaf. He brings me some food, not much, and water. I can see out the window, but there isn't much to see. I was thrilled to see you trimming the grass, you couldn't hear me over the sound of the mower and the trimmer, but I was calling you. I thought it must have been you that found Chloe and sent me the message.”

“Oh, Blaine. I am so sorry I wasn't able to come sooner. Even two weeks ago, I knew something was wrong, someone was in trouble, but I didn't know where you were. I have to wait for the bird to get better so I could see where she flew. I saw your hand, waving out the window. Did you see me wave back?”

“No, I can see shapes that far away, but no detail. I need glasses, but mine broke one day when I stepped on them, so I can't see far away. I could see your shape, so I knew someone was there, though.” Blaine smiled. “Now you're close, I can see you. I can see your face and to me it's the face of an angel.” He leaned close and kissed Kurt on the cheek. Kurt jerked back in surprise.

“Oh, I'm overstepping my bounds, aren't I? I'm sorry, I just....just....haven't touched a person in three years, and you are so warm. Oh, you must think I'm crazy. I probably am. I just, well, can I come close to you? I don't want to do something inappropriate, but I ...”

Kurt put his hand on Blane's arm to stop him.

“It's okay, Blaine. I do understand. Come here.” And Kurt put out his arms. Blaine came close, hesitated.

“I probably smell terrible. I can only wash if it rains. My clothes are never washed unless I can catch some rain in a bowl. So, I can understand if you just want to stay away.” He turned over, his back to Kurt and began to sob again.

“Blaine, it's okay.” He patted Blaine's back. Then put his arms around the other boy, pulling him close to his chest and wrapped his arms around to Blaine's chest. He did smell terrible, but Kurt's heart was breaking to hear the horrific story, and all he could do was to hold Blaine.

Blaine stopped crying and leaned back into Kurt's chest. It was the best feeling he had experienced since he was locked in this attic room, and he couldn't pull himself away. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Kurt touched Blaine's head, running his fingers through Blane's long hair. It wasn't very clean, but there weren't any tangles as he had first imagined. Blaine must have found a way to comb it. He snuggled closer, listening to the heartbeat through his thin clothing. Blaine started to tremble.

“Are you cold? I can give you my jacket,” Kurt asked.

“No. I'm just so happy to touch a person again. I thought I'd die here.”

In anyone else, that would probably have been an exaggeration, but Kurt knew Blaine meant it with all his heart.

They lay on the bed, wrapped up in the blankets for an hour, not talking – but it wasn't uncomfortable. Blaine wasn't used to speaking, so he didn't know what to say and Kurt was scared and worried. They finally spoke.

“You can't sleep?” Blaine asked.

“No. I can never sleep in a different bed. Even when I go on sleep-overs, I end up staying awake most of the night,” Kurt replied.

“Do you have your friends over a lot? I bet those guys can't sleep at your house, either,” Blaine said.

“Well, no, I don't have guys over to sleep. I have girls,” Kurt said.

“Girls? What do their parents think of that? What do your parents say?” Blaine laughed a little.

“They're okay with it. I'm gay.”

“Oh. Sorry, I just didn't think,” Blaine said. “Do your parents know?” He couldn't help but ask.

“Yeah, I got up all my courage and told my dad last year. Know what he said? That he already knew. He knew since I was three.” Kurt giggled.

“Wow. What about your mom?”

“She died when I was eight. But I guess if my dad knew, she did, too. It just never came up. Dad is very supportive, even though he is a man's man I think you'd say. He owns a tire and lube garage. I have a step-mother and a step-brother, too. That was kind of hard at first, but they came around. The worst thing I get now is some bullying in school, but it isn't bad since my step brother is the quarterback for the football team and I'm friends with Puck.”

“I didn't see Puck, just heard his voice. Is he gay, too?” Blaine asked.

“NO! Ah, no. He's the local badass, though I think that's just a cover. He's really a good guy. He hired me for the summer to clean pools and do lawn care. He's a big guy, probably 6'3” and 250. He has a mohawk and looks like a biker.”

“Excuse me for saying so, but you don't exactly dress like Liberace....” Blaine laughed.

“No, these are just my work clothes. Do you think I'd wear my Marc Jacobs to trim the lawn?” Kurt giggled.

“Oh, point taken. I used to dress a little different, too. Mostly in the Dalton uniform the year I last went to school.”

“You were a preppie?” Kurt smiled.

“Yes, and proud to be a Warbler!”

“Oh, you sing? I'm in the Glee club at school, with my step brother and Puck. It's the school's only saving grace.” Kurt fervently hoped he'd be back at school on Monday, but didn't want to voice his fears in front of Blaine.

A hush fell over the boys as the wind picked up. It was April, but not really warm yet. The temperature of the room was dropping and Kurt, who wasn't used to the cold, began to shiver.

“Kurt?”

“Yeah, Blaine?”

“I think you're really cold, I can feel you shivering. If you don't think it's weird, you can come closer. Just to get warm, I mean. I'm not trying to be creepy or anything.”

Kurt thought for a moment. He didn't like the smell, but he knew it wasn't Blaine's fault and he was actually getting used to it. He found he did like Blaine. Anyone who could have spent three years alone and could still carry on a conversation must be okay. And he was shivering.

“Okay, I am cold and if it's okay with you...” Kurt scooted closer and Blaine turned over towards him. Blaine was only wearing the rags he had, which didn't cover very much, and Kurt had on just the jeans and thin white V-neck T-shirt he had worn that day. His jacket was on top of the blankets to try and keep them warm. Blaine wasn't a bi't shy and snuggled down close to Kurt, his head under Kurt's chin and his ear close to Kurt's fast beating heart. Kurt found himself wrapping his arms around Blaine and holding him close – his skin was very warm. They fell asleep like that, legs all tangled together to share the small amount of heat in the nest they had made.

Several hours later, Kurt was awake. Blinking his eyes and wondering where he was when a sharp cry reaches his ears and he sees a shape by the light of the moon. It's Blaine and he's asleep, but crying.

“Blaine? Blaine, are you okay?” Kurt asks, but only gets a sleepy mumble and more crying. Well, if Kurt had been locked up for years, he'd be crying, too. “It's okay, Blaine, it's okay. I'm here and we'll get you out. I won't leave you.” He stroked Blaine's temple, running his thumb over his cheek and Blaine settled a tiny bit, but was still crying. Kurt didn't want to wake him up, so he sang quietly in his ear.

Over in Killarney

Many years ago

Me Mither sang a song to me

In tones so sweet and low

Just a simple ditty

In her good old Irish way

And I'd give the world if she could sing

That song to me this day.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra Too-ra-loo-ra-li

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, hush now, don't you cry!

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra Too-ra-loo-ra-li

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, that's an Irish lullaby.

Oft' in dreams I wander

To that cot again

I feel her arms a -huggin' me

As when she held me then

And I hear her voice a-hummin'

To me as in days of yorw

When she used to rock me fast asleep

Outside the cabin door.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra Too-ra-loo-ra-li

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, hush now, don't you cry!

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra Too-ra-loo-ra-li

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, that's an Irish lullaby.

Blaine took a deep breath and fell back to a deep sleep, and Kurt kissed him on his forehead. “I'll keep you safe, Blaine, I promise,” he whispered.

~KBKBKBKBKBKB~