Blaine stepped through the automatic doors, following behind his mother with slow tentative steps. Everything about this place screamed hospital, it smelled like latex and cleaner, the only sound that could be heard was the echo of his mother's heels hitting the ground as she strode towards the sign-in area.

Lily gave her son's name to the secretary, and, after a few taps on the computer, the nonchalant woman pulled up his blank file. She handed him a schedule and a pillow. The secretary, whose name was Kate, as Blaine later found out, told him that an attendant would be with him shortly.

Blaine and his mother said their goodbyes, which including a tender kiss on the cheek and a ruffle of Blaine's hair. Lily gave him one last hug and whispered in his ear.

"Feel better sweetheart."

 She released her son, and, then, waved to Kate before turning on her heel and walking out. The distinct noise of her shoes slowly disappeared down the long corridor.

 This could very well be the last time Blaine would ever see his mom for a very, very long time.

He let out a shaky breath and hugged the pillow to his chest. One of the many attendants came up to the curly haired boy and picked up the duffle bag sitting by his feet, The belongings he had chosen to bring, only having time to pack the night before, were few and random.  Blaine shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and, soon enough, he was being guided down an endless hallway, complete with many twists and turns. 

The walls were a bland colour, Blaine thought they would, at least, try to make the place look warm and homey, but he soon found out, the more and more he saw of this place, the more he felt as if he was in a foreign country. The attendant stopped abruptly at a series of doors, so abruptly that he nearly ran into her back. She turned to him and pointed to the schedule in his hands, which was currently squished in a death grip between Blaine's hands and the pillow.

"What room number does it say there at the top, hon?"

The boy blinked a few times before he noticed she was staring at him expectantly. She was asking him a question. Why wasn't he doing anything?

"Oh...um" He brought the flimsy piece of paper up to his face, squinting his eyes to read the small print in the left corner. When he spotted it, Blaine looked up at her, forgetting he had to read it out loud.

"134" He said in a rush, hoping she wasn't annoyed with him already. She smiled and nodded, darting her eyes from door to door until she clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and pointed toward a door on the right side of the hallway. Blaine thought she could be one of those people who talks with their hands, or thinks with them.

Blaine and the woman stepped into his room, it was bigger than he  had expected, with various pictures and posters hanging on the walls. There were two beds, one of them with his bag on it and the other with a pair of pajamas folded neatly on top of the sheets. He must have a roommate.

 He looked around once more to see if he could find anything more about this individual without actually having to see them, but there was nothing but some shoes and a couple picture frames on the nightstand, which he couldn't make out from this far away.

 A voice frightened him, causing him to jerk back a little. It was just the attendant. She told Blaine how it works around here, told him that, in order to maintain a safe environment, it was her duty to search his luggage for anything that might be considered harmful. After the removing of some pins attached to his clothes and a couple clothespins he must have forgotten to take off, when he was taking his shirts and pants off the clothesline, she gave him a questioning look. He told her of his quick packing, and she nodded, accepting it without question. She began explaining that he'd have plenty of time to unpack, but, for now, he should go over his schedule. He nodded and she left.

The first thing Blaine did when she walked away was totter over to the pictures on the dresser. He picked up the closest one and inspected it. There was a young looking woman and somebody who seemed to be her husband with a little boy, whom the mother was holding in her arms. Blaine smiled slightly and gently placed the photo back on the dresser. He looked down and noticed the edges of the dresser were rounded, not something somebody who wasn't Blaine would have noticed, but he had always been different, eyeing unimportant things that nobody else seemed to detect or care about.  Blaine seemed to remember what the attendant said right then. The boy unfolded the piece of paper and spread it out on the flat surface of the bureau, reading the activities under "Monday". The first thing was breakfast, which was almost over according to the time slot. Next was group therapy and then after that was individual. He let out a soft sigh and folded it back up, deciding to wait out breakfast and then go right to group therapy from his room.

"Hey guys, so it looks like we have a new member!" The instructor exclaimed as soon everyone had sat down in a fairly big circle. "We'll go around and introduce ourselves okay?" She smiled brightly and clapped her hands briefly. "Why don't you go first?" She said looking at Blaine.

All eyes were on Blaine. He pulled his sleeves down over his fingers willing himself to melt away. Talking to one person was usually a challenge for Blaine, so speaking to a group was just downright stressful. He felt as if they could see right through him, his sweatshirt, his skin and right into his feelings. Could they feel how fast his heart was beating? He straightened up in his chair a bit while keeping his hands tucked safely in his sleeves. He glanced around the circle, his eyes scanning the faces of each person. There were maybe 6 or 7 of them, and they all looked concerned, besides one boy. He sat next to a girl with blondish hair, his eyes focused down and staring at his lap. He wore a bulky red pullover and jeans, and his hair was spiked up in the front. His skin was colourless. It couldn't even be described as pale; it was blank. Blaine continued to stare at the lost but perfect boy before his eyes began to widen, realizing where he was.

"Blaine, my name's Blaine." He blurted out, causing almost everyone in the room to exhale out of....relief? Almost like they were glad he finally said something. Do people here usually not say anything when asked a question or told to do something? He dug his nails into his jean clad thigh roughly, making all of his thoughts drift away somewhat. The instructor didn't seem to notice and continued on.

"Tell us a little but about why you're here, Blaine."

"Well I...uh" he started, what was he supposed to say? Tell them the truth? He was supposed to trust these strangers, right? But, then again, you aren't supposed to trust, let alone speak to strangers. He chose to ignore his intense thinking right now and get back to answering the question as truthfully as possible. "I'm here because...I-well." He stopped for a moment than continued "I'm here because I want to be okay again." He gulped, trying desperately to hold back the tears that were forming in his eyes, but much to his displeasure, his eyes became misty. Obviously his brain was ignoring the pleading Blaine was in the process of doing.

As everyone went around the group, actually saying their issues and not something like Blaine had said, he began to realise that not only were these people being completely honest with him but looked at ease doing it. Santana, one of the girls with a substance-abuse issue, was very sarcastic, and that made Blaine smile. Actually smile. When the introductions came around to the blonde sitting next to the mystery boy, she introduced herself as Quinn. She seemed so normal. Now that he mentioned it, everyone here didn't seem all that mentally ill, but neither did Blaine- or at least he didn't think he did.

Blaine was shocked to find out Quinn had multiple personality disorder. He couldn't picture someone so gentle and calm to be completely two-sided, but, then again maybe his perception on that particular disorder was slightly altered, based on things he had heard from other kids at his school.

The introductions moved forward to the boy with the spiked hair. He raised his head, when he became conscious everyone had stopped speaking. He cleared his throat and started to play with a loose string on his sweater.

"Kurt? Do you want to introduce yourself to Blaine?" The instructor asked politely.

"Not particularly." He muttered.

Santana rolled her eyes and turned to face Blaine. "Don't even worry about him, he has a stick up his ass." She teased, and Kurt scoffed.

Blaine's face broke into another grin, he couldn't help it; Santana was like a cocky sarcastic ray of sunshine.

After group was over, he found out that his counsellor was not in today, due to family issues, so Blaine had a different attendant than last time escort back to his room until lunch. He still couldn't figure out who he could be sharing a room with, there were three guys, and they all could be that little boy in the picture. Rory, Jesse and... Kurt. He secretly hoped it wouldn't be Kurt, but, for some reason he couldn't yet put his finger on, he wanted it to be as well. That's when he walked into his room and found the devil himself sitting on the far bed. He was staring at the ceiling and barely glanced at Blaine as he walked straight into the room and plopped down on own bed, unzipping his suitcase and starting to take out his shirts. His vision turned towards Kurt for a moment to see his eyes closed and his body stretched out, starfish style, as if he was waiting to be lifted up into the air like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. Blaine had that point in time to take in his body type. Kurt was skinny, really skinny. He could even see that through his baggy sweater. He must not weigh more than 95 pounds. Blaine actually imagined the boy being lifted into the thin air now, floating, hovering over his bed, like an angel. Kurt let out a big breath and Blaine's vision jerked to his face. Kurt was shooting daggers at him with his eyes.

"Sorry..." Blaine said, his face flushing a deep shade of red. Kurt blinked and Blaine swore he saw him smile sadly just a tiny bit. After an awkward silence Blaine busied himself with folding his shirts once again.

Blaine had finished folding and putting away his shirts, his pants, his sweaters, his pajamas and just about every other piece of clothing he had and finally turned back to Kurt.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere? Isn't that how it works around...here?" Blaine asked curiously- because he really was.

"Doesn't matter." Kurt answered quickly, and nobody had to tell Blaine twice. That was a dismissive remark. Obviously, the other boy did not feel like talking. He simply nodded and checked his suitcase for the seventh time.

Kurt and Blaine were escorted to the dining hall about 30 minutes later, still not having said another word to each other since their previous discussion. Blaine noticed that Kurt was trying to keep up with the attendant and himself, but struggling, even though they were hardly walking fast at all. The three of them reached the archway leading into the dining hall, and Blaine could basically hear Kurt panting like an over- heated dog. He gave him a concerned look as they parted ways, Blaine joining the line to get food and Kurt hanging back by the sign that read "Serving Today". 

Blaine loved Chicken Caesar wraps, and apparently so did most of the group. He sat by the people that were in his group therapy session- not like he really had a choice. There was assigned tables. They ate mostly in silence with a few opinions on the food, saying it was really good or the chicken was too chewy. During the end of one of Santana's detailed argument on why this chicken was better than last weeks, due to the fact that she found a clump of greyish goo stuck to one of the strips, Blaine had rolled his sleeve up slightly to avoid spilling sauce on his sleeve, before he remembered the secret on his wrists, the reason he was here. He turned his head to each side, begging nobody had seen. Thankfully, most of them were still looking at Santana with wide, disgusted eyes. He sighed in relief, returning to his meal. Blaine heard a slight cough from the far end of the table. It was Kurt, he was staring at Blaine, no glint of anger in his eyes this time. He was just staring at the curly haired boy while picking at a piece of romaine lettuce with his thumb and index finger. Blaine stared back, almost confused until Kurt turned his attention to the piece of lettuce, ripping off a small piece and placing it on his tongue.

Blaine looks down at his own plate, picking around with his fork. When he glanced up again, the boy is gone. He thought nothing of it, finishing the food on his plate and getting up to put the tray away. On his way to the public bathroom to wash up after eating, he glances at the clichéd paintings on the wall, the pastel stripes doing nothing to his mood. Were they supposed to make you happy? Were they supposed to make you smile and all of a sudden not be broken? He decided maybe he should go lie down afterward, if he was blaming paintings for his sour mood. When he walks into the unsurprisingly empty bathroom, apart from the lean man sitting in the corner reading ‘To Kill A Mockingbird'. Blaine smiled to himself and hurried over to the sink.

A ray of fluorescent light cascaded onto the tiled floor. A small clink from behind him caused Blaine to bring his head up slightly to look in the mirror, seeing Kurt standing in front of the shower. He was shirtless and pinching his sides. If he looked thin before, he looked like a skeleton now. Kurt's translucent skin wasn't enough to hide his ribs, or prominent hip bones.

 The hallows of Kurt's cheeks looked more menacing now that Blaine knew what he hid with that sweatshirt.  Blaine didn't mean to stare, and, if he got caught, that would be the second time. He took a quick glance up and then back down at his hands, looking busy as Kurt   turned around and switched the shower on. Blaine tried not to gasp at Kurt's back, which was bruised from his backbone. There wasn't enough cushion to protect him from when he fell, or even laid down. 

Blaine whipped his head up rapidly as he heard the soft sound of Kurt's feet stepping into the steamy shower and caught sight of denim jeans and a pair of navy boxer-briefs being tossed over the showers curtain as the boy inside stripped down to nothing. All at once, Blaine felt as if he was intruding on something private. Of course, Blaine knew this was a public bathroom and it was normal for other people to be pattering around while others were in the showers or using the toilet, but, for some reason that Blaine couldn't wrap his mind around, he didn't want Kurt to think he was waiting around for no reason. He wanted Kurt to talk to him, maybe eventually like him, even as a friend would be okay with the curly haired boy. He shook his head of the thoughts and pivoted to turn the taps off as gently as possible. 

Before he realized where he was walking, he was at his and Kurt's door. Blaine blinked a couple times to clear his eyes of the fuzziness that seemed to appear out of nowhere. He sunk down onto the bed, now very aware of his tired state. Blaine figured he would have time to take a quick nap before somebody noticed he hadn't showed up for whatever he had scheduled for the next time slot. The moment his eyes fell shut, he was taken into a blissful slumber. Blaine always thought dream world was so much better than reality. Most of the time, he didn't have dreams, but the feeling of drifting away for a couple hours a day still satisfied him. The sleep didn't last as long as Blaine had planned because apparently his roommate had other plans.

Kurt slammed the door closed, causing Blaine to jerk awake. Kurt's hair was still the slightest bit wet and he was wearing different clothes from the last time Blaine had seen him. That wasn't that surprising since he did take a shower after lunch. Kurt walked to the other side of the room and pulled a felt tip pen and a single piece of paper from his shoulder bag. He swivelled his chair in Blaine's direction and patiently waited for him to fully wake up. Once Blaine was staring back at Kurt, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Skipping class, new kid?" Kurt seemed unimpressed, but Blaine couldn't remember a time when he didn't look like that.

"N-no I just didn't- I was really tired and I thought I could take a nap before anybody noticed I was-"

 Kurt hummed before turning his chair towards the desk again, clearly not interested in Blaine's explanation.

Blaine sighed and subconsciously picked his arm, laying back down in a position that was not very comfortable but one that allowed him to peek at Kurt once and a while. There was a silence between the two, which would normally be awkward but wasn't for some unknown reason. It just felt right, something ordinary. Without turning to face him this time, Kurt gnawed on the pencil's eraser and let the sound of his voice slip through his colourless lips.

"I have a proposal for you, Anderson."

A small smile formed on Blaine's lips as he sat up and cocked his head to the side.

"Okay."

"You didn't really tell us why you were here. Instead, you used some cheesy saying that everyone, including me, knew was a way to cover up the real reason somebody sent you to this-" Kurt raised to fingers on each of his hands, forming air quotations. "Rehabilitation center"

Blaine physically tightened at that and shifted uneasily on his bed.

"Neither did you." Blaine spat before he even recognized it was him that said that to Kurt.

Kurt rolled his eyes and let out a sound of annoyance.

"Yes, I know... which is where my proposal comes into play." He rested his hands gently on his knee and leaned a tiniest bit closer to Blaine. "Tell me why you're here, and I'll return the favor." He smiled ever so slightly.

"You mean, you'll tell me why you're here too?" Blaine asked, a little unsure of what Kurt meant by returning the favor.

"Yes, dummy." Kurt retorted, acting like it was the most obvious thing on the planet. It was, now that Blaine thought about it.

The dark haired boy straightened up after rubbing the back of his neck and nodding, accepting Kurt's offer.

"Well, I...-" Blaine didn't know how to put it, should he use some sort of medical term? Should he stop hesitating and spit it out before Kurt gets annoyed? 

The second option sound a lot better to him.

"Kurt, I'm here because- my mom sent me here...because." Blaine breathed and wrapped the extra fabric on his sweater around his thumb 

"I'm a cutter, Kurt."

______________________

End of chapter 1