For as long as he could remember, Blaine Anderson could see ghosts. Not ‘see’ as in being able to sense their presence; mostly everyone in Lima felt a slight chill run down their spine whenever a spirit was in the near vicinity. No, Blaine could see the dead, just as clearly as he could the living.
Of course, when he was younger, he hadn’t known what they were. To him, they were just other people. But he quickly learned that no one else could see his new friends. He gained a reputation as “that kid who talks to imaginary people.”

At first, Blaine was confused. Why couldn’t anyone else see these people that were so obviously there? But by the age of 7, he was aware that he was different. “Special,” as the other kids called him.

Blaine didn’t mind though. They left him well enough alone, and he had friends of his own. Friends who would listen to him talk, and friends who told him the most fantastic stories. Stories that, despite making Lima seem so much more interesting than it was, inevitably ended in death. And Blaine was fascinated by it.

But as one could guess, the dead and the living don’t often mix. All too soon, the spirits had to pass on, and Blaine was left alone again. It was a heartless cycle. Blaine would chance upon a new ghost. They would exchange stories. For the next few days, Blaine would revisit the spot, bringing an offering of flowers or books or even a favorite snack that they both knew could never be eaten. He would return, time after time, until the day when the area turned cold and all that remained of a once-living, once-breathing person were some withering flower petals and a breath of wind.

Then Blaine would lay one last flower, murmur their name, and quietly walk away with his hands in his pockets, seeking out the next lonely spirit who needed company.

So Blaine lived in the past, feeding off of spirits who had nothing left to give. It wasn’t by any means a normal existence, but it was the only one that Blaine had ever known.

That is, until he met Kurt Hummel.