A numb arm and an aching hipbone woke Blaine the next morning. With a groan he rolled onto his back and shook his dead arm out to try and regain the feeling in it. It was like this every morning: he would wake up to pain in some part of his body - often his lower back - and sometimes a numb arm or leg. The first night he had slept here he had woken multiple times through the night in pain and with a stiff back and it was a few weeks until he stopped gaining new bruises every night. He had gotten used to sleeping on the hard floor now, but it still remained extremely uncomfortable and he knew it wasn't good for him to be sleeping like this every night, but what choice did he have? At least he had a roof over his head and wasn't freezing out on the streets somewhere.

With pins and needles prickling in the fingertips of his previously numb arm, he sat up and stretched, arching his back and hearing the joints and vertebrae crack. Giving his arm another shake, he stood up and shuffled over to the box with the bowl he used as a sink. Unscrewing the cap on the bottle of water he cupped his left hand over the bowl and poured some water into it which he then rubbed onto his face, washing the sleep from his eyes and waking him up. He was just drying his face on a small towel when there was a hesitant knock at the attic door. He froze, panic starting to build inside him.

The door creaked open. "Hello?" a familiar voice called. Blaine's panic faded a little; it was Kurt - and of course it was him, who else would have knocked on the door instead of just walking straight up?

"Are you awake?" Kurt asked, his voice uncertain. "Um, is it ok if I come up?"

Blaine set the towel down. "Y-yeah," he responded, his voice rough from sleep and lack of use.

There was the sound of the door closing, followed by footsteps and then the stairs groaning slightly, before Kurt came into view carrying a tray filled with food and with a bundle of fabric tucked under one arm. He smiled when he saw Blaine. "Morning," he greeted him, setting the tray down on a nearby box and dropping the bundle under his arm into a soft pile at his feet. "I brought you some breakfast." He indicated the tray.

Blaine didn't look at the tray of food; he couldn't take his eyes off of Kurt. He had known the other boy was beautiful after seeing him last night, but now that he was seeing him properly in daylight he realised he was wrong; Kurt wasn't just beautiful, he was breath-taking.

His skin wasn't just pale, but smooth, flawless, and soft looking - Blaine was filled with the sudden urge to raise a hand and caress Kurt's face to see if the skin was as soft as it looked and he had to stuff his hands into the pockets of his pants to stop himself. Kurt's hair was swept up into a stylish coif like it had been last night, but now Blaine could see streaks of blonde in the soft chestnut locks and the fine hairs on the back of his neck. And his eyes weren't just blue, but a stunning mix of blues, greens, and greys that Blaine supposed could be compared to the ocean sparkling in the sunlight, but that was like comparing a blade of grass to a rose. And then there were the details Blaine hadn't really noticed last night in the dim light: Kurt's pink lips; his long, slim legs clad in tight jeans; the stylish outfit; and his well-defined jawline.

His gaze returned to Kurt's face and he realised that the other boy was looking quizzically at him, no doubt wondering why Blaine was staring at him. He reined his emotions in, hoping his thoughts weren't visible on his face and finally looked over at the tray of food. There was a bowl of cereal he recognised from having eaten some a couple of days ago, some toast, a glass of orange juice, a few small containers of yogurt, and a selection of fruit.

Kurt shrugged. "I wasn't sure what you would like, so I took a bit of everything we have." He pushed the tray across the box so it was closer to Blaine. "Please eat as much as you want, you must be hungry."

Blaine walked over to the box the tray rested on and, after a slight hesitation, sank down to sit on the floor beside it just as Kurt sat down a short distance away with his back against a wooden crate.

"Thank you," Blaine said quietly.

The corners of Kurt's mouth lifted in a small smile. "It's nothing. Like I said, I want to help you. I hate the thought of you up here all by yourself, cold and hungry." He smiled encouragingly at him as he took a sip of the orange juice.

Lowering his gaze to the tray in front of him, Blaine felt a strange sensation inside him when he noticed the small jug of milk by the bowl of cereal and a little dish with an array of jellies on it sitting by the rack of toast - Kurt had thought of everything. He poured milk onto the cereal, picked up the spoon, and took a mouthful, suddenly realising how hungry he actually was as he swallowed the first spoonful.

Peering up at Kurt through his lashes as he ate, he watched the other boy tug the bundle of fabric towards him.

"I brought you this as well," he said, unrolling the bundle to reveal a large, thick blanket. "It must be uncomfortable sleeping on this floor and it can't be good for your back." He eyed the blanket critically, rubbing it between his fingers as if testing the thickness. "I thought you could use it as a mattress." He looked over at Blaine who was now watching him indiscreetly and shrugged again, looking a little worried. "It was the best we had."

Blaine stared at him, his breakfast momentarily forgotten. He guessed Kurt was worried that the blanket was inadequate; he didn't realise how stunned Blaine was that somebody was doing this for him, that somebody was concerned enough about him to bring him something better to sleep on. Nobody had cared this much about him in years.

"Thank you," he said again, putting as much sincerity and gratitude into the words as he could. "You- it's perfect." As soon as he finished speaking he dropped his gaze back down to the half-finished bowl of cereal in front of him and continued eating.

He had almost said ‘you don't know how much this means to me'. That was too much, he barely knew Kurt and he only trusted him a little because he seemed to have kept his word so far and hadn't told anyone, plus he had told Blaine he would bring him food today and he had done. He appeared to really want to help him.

"You're welcome," Kurt said in a brighter voice.

Blaine finished his cereal and started on some toast, spreading some raspberry jelly onto a slice before taking a bite, his stomach rumbling gratefully in appreciation of the most food he had eaten for one meal in months. He snuck a peek at Kurt as he took another bite of toast to find the other boy watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. He shook his head slightly when he noticed Blaine looking at him.

"I can make you some coffee if you want," he offered.

Blaine shook his head. "No, thank you," he declined quietly. He was tempted by the offer of coffee, but Kurt would have to leave to go make it and what if he returned with someone to force Blaine out of the house? What if all of this - the breakfast, the blanket, the caring - was all a ruse to make it easier for him to be thrown out of the house? He wanted to trust Kurt, he really did, but instinct from months of living in the attic alone and from the abuse he used to receive at home and school brought up all those questions and doubts and made it extremely difficult for him to trust anyone.

Kurt just sent him a small smile. "Ok."

There was a short pause as Blaine ate more toast in between sips of orange juice and Kurt stared down at his denim-clad knees, drumming his fingers against them and nibbling unconsciously on the inside of his bottom lip.

"My dad and step-mom are out of town until tomorrow night - they left yesterday morning - and my step-brother stayed at a friend's house last night and isn't coming home until this evening," Kurt said suddenly.

Blaine looked up from his toast, frowning slightly in confusion - why was he telling him this?

Kurt shrugged as if he had heard this. "I would never admit this to anyone else, but I was actually a bit nervous about being here alone at night. I'd been hearing noise during the night," he inclined his head at Blaine, "they must have been you moving around, and I was starting to doubt what I had been insisting to all my friends and even my step-brother: that this house isn't haunted." A small smile crept onto his face. "I was determined to try and discover the source of those noises, despite my nerves. I switched off all the lights and crept through the whole house in the darkness with a flashlight trying to find that source." His eyes met Blaine's, their gazes connecting for only a second or two before Blaine looked away, his gaze skittering nervously back to his breakfast tray.

"I never expected to find you," Kurt continued softly. "Never."

A different kind of nerves and uncertainty swirled through Blaine and he swallowed, his fingers trembling slightly. He reached for his glass of juice and took a long drink for something to do with his hands and to give him time to try and regain his composure, hoping the sweet liquid would wash away these new feelings.

If Kurt noticed his slightly flustered demeanour then he never reacted to it. "My friends would have loved to have seen me tiptoeing around my own house last night," he said, his voice no longer soft, but back to its previous casual, conversational tone. "They had to look around the house before they realised all those stories they had believed for months were a load of crap and then there was me, creeping around my own home, shining a flashlight into every nook and cranny and jumping at shadows." He laughed lightly, shaking his head at himself.

A small spark of the feelings from earlier returned at the sound of Kurt's laughter and Blaine averted his eyes again, fiddling with the rim of his empty glass. He stared down at the glass as Kurt continued to tell him about his friends and family as if they were friends meeting up for coffee or something instead of two people who barely knew each other sitting in an attic the morning after meeting under very unusual circumstances.

"Blaine," he said quietly, lifting his gaze to look at Kurt again.

Kurt broke off mid-speech. "-and I- what?"

Blaine swallowed. "My name is Blaine," he said in a louder voice.

Kurt's face lit up in a bright smile. "Blaine," he repeated.

Suddenly feeling awkward, Blaine shifted his weight and placed the glass back on the tray.

The soft thud of the glass being set down seemed to draw Kurt's attention to it. "I'll bring you food every day as often as I can," he promised. "I couldn't handle knowing you're up here feeling hungry."

There was a buzzing noise and Kurt jumped, slapping his hand to the pocket of his jeans. He pulled a cell phone out of the pocket, amazing Blaine who didn't think the jeans would allow for things like phones, they seemed much too tight. "Shoot," Kurt muttered under his breath. His fingers began tapping out a text. "I forgot I was meeting Rachel and Mercedes for coffee this morning - they're my friends," he added, glancing over at Blaine. He finished sending the text and got to his feet, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

"Sorry," he said to Blaine as he walked over and picked up the breakfast tray. "I'd better go and meet them. I'll come see you again when I get back."

Blaine nodded in acknowledgement. It didn't bother him that Kurt was leaving; he was starting to feel a little antsy with being around another person for so long and could do with some time to himself. He wasn't used to being around people; it had been so long since he'd had anything but his own company.

Kurt started to head for the stairs, pausing a few feet away from them. "Feel free to go down into the main house while I'm gone. I know you usually-" he broke off, his cheeks turning pink. "I'll see you when I get back." He smiled at Blaine before turning and heading down the stairs, closing the attic door behind him.

Blaine stared at the top of the staircase leading down to the door as he listened to the faint sounds of Kurt walking away. The attic felt empty now that Kurt was gone, which was a strange feeling that Blaine had never experienced before. Yes, he was alone up here, but it had never felt like there was something missing. Shrugging off the feeling as just a slight unsettled reaction to being around someone after months of being alone, he wandered over to one of his stacks of books and picked out the paperback he had been reading last night when Kurt had found him. He went to sit down on his bed with it but paused when he remembered the blanket Kurt had brought him.

He scooped it up tentatively, catching a whiff of something that somehow both soothed him and made his stomach squeeze in a way that was unfamiliar to him. It was thicker than any of the other blankets he had and he knew it would make for a much better mattress than the one he was currently sleeping on. He spread it out on the floor and carefully placed his own blanket and pillow on top of it, realising as he did so that he now had an extra blanket to use on cooler nights which meant he wouldn't need to go to bed wearing every sweater and shirt he owned.

When he settled down with his book on top of his newly improved bed a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at how much more comfortable it was. It wouldn't be possible for him to ever thank Kurt enough for this. He was a complete stranger to the other boy, yet he had fed him, given him a blanket so he would be more comfortable, and been friendly towards him. He could have been a criminal, mentally unstable, or had some contagious disease, yet Kurt had trusted him and done all of this for him. He could barely believe this wasn't a dream and that Kurt wasn't some wonderful, perfect boy that his vivid imagination had conjured up to alleviate the pain and loneliness of his life. But with the thick blanket making the floor comfortable to sit on, a belly full of food, that trace of comforting scent in the air, and a spark of warmth and hope inside of him, he needed no pinch on the arm to know that Kurt was no dream.

"Kurt, are you even listening?"

Blinking, Kurt looked up from where he had been staring unseeingly down at his coffee cup to meet Rachel's exasperated gaze. Next to her, Mercedes was frowning at him, looking a little concerned.

"Are you ok?" Mercedes asked. "I know Rachel's monologues on which solos would best show her talent at Sectionals are mind-numbing boring, but you aren't normally this spaced out."

Picking up his coffee, Kurt took a sip to prolong the time he'd have to respond, his mind considering and discarding several excuses, until he set his coffee back down. "I'm just tired; I didn't get much sleep last night."

This wasn't a complete lie. He had slept pretty poorly between thinking about Blaine and that nightmare with Karofsky, but that wasn't the reason he had barely taken in a word either of his friends had said since he had finally rushed into the Lima Bean over half an hour ago. He couldn't stop thinking about Blaine; how such a polite, vulnerable-looking teenage boy had ended up eking out a meagre life in his attic. He wondered where Blaine's family were or if he even had any, if he had any friends anywhere, if anyone even cared where he was, or had he just disappeared silently off the face of the Earth? At some point he must have had a home, a family, and friends; he must have gone to school and had teachers and classes he liked and others he hated. Maybe he played a sport or maybe he was musical, maybe he was in a club or a team. Lots of people must have known him; nobody was completely invisible no matter how much people may think it at times. Did nobody really look for him? Was he really completely and utterly alone?

Swallowing thickly against the tears choking his throat and blurring his vision, he forced himself to listen to what Rachel was saying.

"-must be hard for you, but this is important," she insisted, laying a hand with the fingers splayed on the table next to her coffee as she leaned imploringly towards Kurt.

Not in the mood to argue, Kurt just smiled weakly. "Sorry." He lifted his coffee. "I think the caffeine is starting to kick in now."

Rachel smiled and nodded briskly, happily accepting his response. She sat back in her chair and opened her mouth, preparing to launch into yet another self-debate, but Mercedes spoke up before she got the chance to start.

"I think it's more than tiredness," she said, peering worriedly at Kurt's face. "You look a little...strange. I'm not quite sure what it is, you just look..." she trailed off, her frown deepening.

Kurt bit back an agitated groan as Rachel started scrutinising him, her face drawn into lines of concern. Of course Mercedes would choose today to be extremely perceptive.

"I'm fine," he told them firmly. "Like I said, I'm just tired." When neither of them looked likely to drop the issue, he sighed and added. "I had another nightmare last night and I just keep thinking about it."

These words did the trick; his friend's expressions both cleared a little as they made sympathetic noises and asked what his nightmare had been about.

Toying with his almost empty coffee cup, Kurt described his nightmare of Karofsky chasing him along an endless series of corridors into a dark room where he felt a short moment of relief until he was locked inside it and he realised Karofsky had him trapped for good. He deliberately avoided mentioning that the room he was locked into was his attic and that the stimulus for the nightmare was Blaine.

Rachel reached across the table and placed a hand on top of Kurt's. "Oh, Kurt," she said gently. "I'm sorry, that sounds awful, but you know he'll never get you alone, we'll make sure that never happens - us and the rest of Glee club." Mercedes nodded adamantly at her words.

Kurt smiled and nodded gratefully as Mercedes and Rachel continued to assure him that he was safe from Karofsky and suggested things to help him with the nightmares. The nightmare had bothered and upset him, but it was the least of his worries just now. He was far more concerned for the curly-haired boy in his attic.