Chapter Two

'I'm back!' Blaine shouted to Kurt, who was sitting a little way off and who's face turned to him in excitement. 'You're back,' he agreed, laughing slightly. His smile faltered slightly as he took in Blaine's appearance. 'What – what happened?'

It was time. It was time to tell Kurt everything, where he was when he wasn't in his dream world and why. 'You asked me a question yesterday, Kurt. I think it's time to tell you the answer. And to do that, I need to tell you – well, everything. But it'll take a while.' Kurt smiled sadly. 'Well, I've got all the time in the world.'

'I guess it started two years ago, when I was 14. My mum left my dad, and he fell apart.'

'She's gone. She's fucking gone forever and now I'm stuck here with you, do you know how that feels?' He was drunk again. His words were slurred together and it was only a matter of time before he got physically abusive. I shrunk back from him, scared of what he might do – what he has done before. 'You fucking scared of me? Harden the fuck up.' He grabbed an empty vodka bottle, smashed it then held it up to my face. 'Scared now, faggot?' I was sobbing by then, begging him to stop, to leave me alone. 'Please dad, please don't!' He lowered the bottle slightly, misery etched in his face. 'It's that bitch's fault. She did this to me.' I replied, quietly, but not quietly enough. 'No, dad. You did this to you.' That was a mistake. The next thing I knew, blood was running down my face and fragments of glass were clinging to the stinging cuts that littered the left side of my face. I watched as my father punched the wall and then left. He might be my father, but after that he would never, ever again be my dad. I sat there, pulling out shards of glass from my face, not bothering to stifle the steady flow of blood because if I died who really cared? I sat there letting the tears mix with the blood and letting myself focus on the pain because it was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than this. I sat there hoping I would die.

'Oh, god, Blaine,' Kurt whispered, his face pale. 'Please – don't tell me you're still there. You're not, please say you're not.'

'I'm not. I left a few days ago. I'll get to that later, but can I – just have a break? I don't, I can't talk about this right now.' His voice was shaking and slightly hoarse, like he was about to cry. Not now, he couldn't cry now. But his eyes were burning and he wanted so desperately to be able to let go. 'Oh, Blaine.' Kurt pulled him into a hug and for a minute he could forget everything and lose himself in the smell and the feeling of Kurt. He clung on urgently, and at last let himself sob into Kurt's shoulders until he couldn't cry anymore. 'You don't have to say anything. Just know that you can, that I'm here and any time you need me I'll listen. God, Blaine, I'm so sorry. I had no idea.'

'Kurt… can I ask you a question?' He still sounded a bit croaky, but he had finally stopped crying.

'Anything.'

'You know when I first met you? You asked me to follow you. But, Kurt, where would we go? Isn't this just… a place of, well, nothing?' He knew it was a strange question to ask, especially at a moment like this, but he had suddenly thought about it and it was bugging him. Anyway, he wanted to take his mind of stuff, he didn't care how. 'Oh.' Kurt frowned but he didn't seem angry, or annoyed, just thoughtful. 'I don't – I don't really know. I guess I just kind of knew that I had to go… somewhere. I knew that you had to come. But I really don't know where. Maybe I'm like – um… your guardian angel? I don't know, I just thought – and I still think – we should be going somewhere. Maybe I'm supposed to show you where to go, because of this. Maybe I was sent here to help you. I wasn't always here, you know.'

Well, this was news. Blaine really had no idea what to think of that. But yeah, he needed to get away and it seemed plausible, kind of, that Kurt was his guardian angel. He was in a dream world with a person who looked like an angel and he was there every night – it was already crazy, so what the hell. 'Okay. Where should we go?'

'That's the thing. I really have no idea.' They had to go somewhere though. Kurt knew that, Blaine had no idea how he knew that but, well, Kurt said he knew and although Blaine had only just met Kurt, he already trusted his instincts. 'Let's just go this way.' Blaine pointed to the left of them. It just seemed right. 'We have to go somewhere, right?'

Kurt seemed to find walking easy, but to Blaine it was extremely difficult. It wasn't like on the first day. At least now he could actually lift his foot and set it down again, but his feet felt like lead and he was rapidly becoming exhausted. 'What's wrong?' Blaine dragged another foot forward. 'It's my feet – they're so heavy. It's so hard to walk.' A flash of what looked like realization passed over Kurt's face. 'Oh! Sorry, I forgot. It was like that for me, as well – at first. I've been here for so long.' For a moment Kurt seemed out of focus, as if trying to remember back. 'It goes away after… well I don't really know. I was always here and it's always the same here; I never left so I couldn't really count the days. It takes a while. But it gets easier.'

Blaine continued the arduous journey, one step at a time. After only about ten metres, he slumped to the ground, worn out. 'Blaine! Are you okay?' Kurt's anxious voice entered his mind but he didn't want to answer, he just wanted to rest. ' 'M fine.' Then a rush of different feelings flooded back to him and he woke up with a start.

Blaine felt his face, wincing as he touched the painful bruised cut on his jaw, which had shocked Kurt. He had run into a group of drunken adults who hadn't liked the look of him. One of them punched them, and they had been wearing a ring, that was how he had got the bruise, that was how he had got the cut. He hadn't fought back; he wasn't that stupid. There were three of them and for all he knew, they might have had a knife or even a gun. Neither would have surprised him. He had just run, until he found a new spot because he had to keep moving. He had to get out of there – as far away from his father, the better. Blaine never wanted to see him again.