Blaine could smell a strong waft of sweet cinnamon as Carole opened the oven door to check on the cinnamon buns baking. It was already almost twelve o'clock noon, and all of the presents were scattered across the floor with shreds of discarded wrapping paper. Earlier that morning, the memories had twisted his stomach into a jumbled mess, but at some point that had actually faded away. He wasn't certain, but Blaine figured he could attribute it to the fact that his boyfriend was exuding some sort of inescapable delight. After their heavy conversation, it had taken a bit of time before they both relaxed into easy interactions. Soon, Kurt's face was lit up with the joy of Christmas again, and he seemed intent on making in the best one that Blaine ever had. He succeeded, Blaine thought. It certainly is the best Christmas that I can remember.

Despite the slight guilt that hung over his head the fact of the Hummels spending their money to buy him Christmas presents, Blaine felt better than he had in a long time. Really, he felt loved, yet he was afraid to fully admit it to himself for fear that if he did, it would either disappear in an instant or have not been true at all. However, in the moment, he just let it be. It was finally something just right, and Blaine didn't want to mar it like he had everything else.

As he glanced over at the pale boy next to him, the strange warmth inside his heart spread even more. Texting furiously, Kurt was visibly enjoying his new phone. A grin lit up Kurt's face, and without lifting his eyes from the screen, he said, "Mercedes wants to wish us all a Merry Christmas. Here, take a look." To get a closer look, Blaine leaned into Kurt's arm. Pleasure rushed through his veins as this subtle contact drew the paler boy's attention to him. Blaine knew that Kurt's face was inches from his own, but he tried to refocus on the reason they were that close.

With one glance at the pristine screen of Kurt's new phone, Blaine let out a snort of laughter. Evidently, Mercedes had decided to send a picture of her wearing literally every piece of clothing that her parents gave her for Christmas. Kurt would probably drop kick Mercedes before letting her go out in the resulting outfit. She was wearing hot-pink cheetah-print boots, multi-colored striped leggings, an electric blue ruffled skirt, a sparkling silver belt, a neon-green shirt with some sort of purple flowering pattern, and last but not least, a scarf to match her belt. Below the picture, Blaine read her wishes of a merry Christmas, and her demand that Kurt send her a picture of his gifts.

"Did she say anything about it being time for brunch?" Carole's voice came from the kitchen, and Blaine quickly put a few inches in between himself and Kurt. Since he'd been at the Hummel-Hudson house, no one had called him out on getting too close to Kurt. Maybe it was because he was being more careful or they were taking pity on him, but either way, Blaine felt his heart swell at the fact that Kurt's family didn't care if he was gay or straight. They still let him live under their roof, they cooked him meals every day, and they talked to him like their own son.

Rising from the couch, Blaine moved across the room towards the lump of Finn lying asleep next to the Christmas tree. When Blaine gave him a slight nudge, Finn clutched the football in his arms tighter and rolled his head onto a new pair of skis. Shaking the sleeping boy's shoulder again, Blaine told him, "It's time for some breakfast." At that word, Finn's eyelids snapped open and he somewhat incoherently mumbled the word 'food' under his breath. "Come on," Blaine beckoned as he started towards the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Mr. Hummel had already claimed his seat and was drinking from a coffee mug while he waited patiently for Carole to serve breakfast. Blaine was the first of the boys to enter the room, but Finn wasn't far behind. As they settled in to their seats, Carole came over with a tray of cinnamon buns and a large bowl of fruit salad. "Kurt, everyone's waiting for you," she called. A moment later, he appeared around the corner, hands still swiftly typing messages to Mercedes. When he sat down at the table, though, he was polite enough to tuck it away his pocket.

The second Carole set the iced cinnamon rolls down on the table, Finn and Burt both eagerly grabbed up their share. Finn started off with two, but when Burt reached for a second one, Kurt and Carole were quick to deter him. "Burt," Carole chided, "You know you need to eat healthy."

With a frown on his face, Burt quickly retorted, "But it's Christmas morning. It's supposed to be a celebration." However, the stern look on his son's face made him retract his hand.

"We're already being lenient enough to let you have one," Kurt chimed in. "Why don't you just have some fruit salad, instead? Turning to address Carole, he added, "By the way, everything is delicious."

As Blaine took a bite of the iced roll, he completely agreed that Carole's cooking was outstanding. He tried to form words to thank her, but the sticky caramel was still filling his mouth. Instead, he just watched the effortless interactions of his boyfriend's family. Carole was teasing Kurt about being too attached to his phone, and Burt glowered longingly after the third cinnamon bun Finn was taking from the tray. All the while, Blaine just sat there, letting familiar thoughts return to his head. I don't belong here. This is their life, not mine. I'm not supposed to be intruding on Kurt's family. They try to make each day so much better for me, yet all I am is a burden. How can Kurt even stand me?

"Did you hear me, Blaine?" Kurt was looking at him expectantly for an answer, but Blaine hadn't been paying attention. At the shake of his boyfriend's head, Kurt gestured to the tray in the center of the table. "There's only one cinnamon roll left, and I was wondering if you wanted it."

Giving his head another shake, Blaine quickly responded, "Oh, no, it's okay." Kindly, he tried to brush off the offer. "You can have it if you want. I don't need another one."

Kurt let out a little laughter as he replied teasingly. "So you want me to get fat, do you? Why don't we at least split it? Anyways, it couldn't harm you to have a little extra to hopefully fuel your grow." Scoffing with fake annoyance, Blaine played into Kurt's joking. It's nice to see him like this, though. With all of the crap going on in my head, sometimes I forget the way we used to be. Everything was so easy. There was nothing that we needed to talk about, we could just be. I miss that, Blaine realized with a pang of remorse. I never thought I would have to try to be happy around Kurt. But now, I just have to keep repeating the lies until their true. We only have to deal with the easy pain, and that way I can still hold on to this relationship.

"Here you go," Kurt said, handing him the larger of the halves. Blaine let his smile linger on his lips to mirror Kurt's for just a few extra seconds, hoping that it would stay there for the day, yet knowing it wouldn't. It is Christmas, after all. I know I don't deserve much, but aren't miracles supposed to happen on Christmas? Of course, he knew that that was just a silly superstition, yet he was still searching for some hope to hold onto.

"Hey, Burt," Finn said, having finished off about half of the entire meal all by himself. "There's supposed to be a Die Hard marathon running if you want to watch it." The minute that the words "Die Hard" left his stepbrother's mouth Kurt let out a sigh and rolled his eyes dramatically at Carole. Obviously, this was something that the two of them were used to commiserating over. As an afterthought Finn added, "You can come to, Blaine, I just wasn't sure if you would be interested." Truthfully, Blaine could always go for a few good explosions, but rather than get up from his seat, he just politely declined to offer. I would rather spend the day with Kurt, and I highly doubt that he's going to be watching Die Hard.

Once Finn and Mr. Hummel had left the kitchen, Carole started cleaning up the dishes, leaving only the two boys at the table. If Kurt hadn't been using his fingers to text rapid messages, Blaine would have taken hold of his boyfriend's hand. Settling for just sliding his chair closer, Blaine let their shoulders rest against each other. Why was I saying that I had to work at being happy around Kurt? This really can still be effortless, just as long as we don't try too hard. If I can keep all of those memories away, everything can be the same as before.

Every time that Kurt moved his fingers to hit another letter on his phone, the movement radiated all the way up to his shoulder, and Blaine could feel the slight twitches of the muscle against his own arm. "Is Mercedes still asking what you got for Christmas?" Quickly, Kurt turned his phone over so that Blaine couldn't see the screen.

"Ummm… actually," Kurt admitted, "I was sending you a message." His tongue darted over his lips before he pressed them together with an uncertain smile. That was one of those habits that Kurt never noticed doing, but Blaine found absolutely adorable.

"So…" Blaine said, "Should I go get my phone now?" The faint nod that Kurt gave him was enough to make him curious as to what his boyfriend sent him in a message. The only problem is, I'm terrified to turn my phone on. Ever since he had come to this house, his phone had stayed stored in the bottom of his duffel bag, right where he had thrown it in his frenzy to pack before his panic became too much to handle.

Now, though, he knew that he was supposed to face these fears. But I'm not that strong. I'm not that courageous. The extent of my strength is just keeping these fears from Kurt, because I can't just pile any more worries on the boy I only want to make happy. All Blaine could do was throw a weary smile to the boy sitting next to him, and get up from the kitchen table to go get his phone.

Mounting the stairs, he could feel the weakness in his knees. What if my father called trying to find me? What if he threatened me just like he did before? Blaine struggled to make his feet climb the stairs, but the reasons had nothing to do with being out of shape. Spinning out of control, Blaine's thoughts were growing paranoid. Oh, God. Can he have the phone company track my location if I turn my phone on?

Despite these thoughts causing his heart to thrum loudly in his eardrums, there was another feeling deeper down that he hadn't expected. It was… hope? Somewhere inside, he held on to a hope that his mother had called him, or tried to contact him to tell him that she was okay and to make sure that he was, too.

Even though she had left him, Blaine still didn't hold it against her. If I had the guts to do what she did, I would have… but I didn't. I'm just a pathetic boy who can't even save himself. There was, however, a key point that he couldn't see. He had gotten away, but instead of seeing that as an accomplishment, he saw it as a weakness. In reality, he knew that he had run away, and there was nothing brave about it.

By the time that Blaine reached his room, he had almost decided not to even look at his phone. He just didn't think he was strong enough. But it's only a damn cell-phone. It's only a piece of metal and plastic, so why am I such a wimp? Anyways, Kurt sent me a message, and it's not like I can just pretend that I read it.

Opening the closet, Blaine looked down at the duffel that he had tried to forget about. It reminded him too much of the past. Yet every time he thought that past was fading, it came back even stronger than before, until he wanted to rip his brain to shreds so that the thoughts would stop. Stop, he repeated to his mind, and maybe this time it would listen.

Crouching down, he ruffled through the empty fabric of his duffel bag, searching for the heavy weight of his cell phone and silently praying that it wouldn't be there just so that he didn't have to even think about the "what ifs" that plagued his mind. When his hand hit into a solid block, though, those lingering hopes faded away and his stomach was replaced with a rock of ice.

He hesitantly pressed his thumb over the power button. Those few seconds that it took for his phone to turn on went by too slowly, yet much too quickly as well. The first thing that caught his eye was the symbol alerting him that he had three new messages. Only three messages, the voice in his head said. Isn't that pitiful? Blaine tried to remind himself that Kurt was the main one who used to text him, and that there wasn't a need for that now that they were living under the same roof, but it didn't help. In the end, he realized that it would be better to just stop stalling, because it only caused the pressure in his chest to keep building until he couldn't take a proper breath of air.

Before he could lose his nerve, Blaine pressed the button to see his messages. With each text that he read, his chest loosened a little bit more. The first was from Wes, asking if he wanted to meet up at the Lima Bean sometime soon. It was dated from a few weeks ago, so Blaine figured Wes wouldn't mind waiting just a little bit longer for a response. Right now, Blaine wasn't really up to answering, and he still had two more texts to go. He knew for certain that one of them was from Kurt, yet he was still terrified about the third one.

Knowing that his father was more likely to send a drunken voicemail than a text gave him a little bit more confidence, yet he still couldn't predict his father's actions, no matter how hard he tried. A small hope was alive in his heart, though, that his mother might have texted him. She could have… right?

When he opened up the next message and felt his heart twist with both relief and regret, he knew he was wrong. She left me all alone with my father, Blaine reminded himself as he stared emotionlessly at Wes's name repeated on the screen in a second text message. It's not like she cared for me enough to even send a text message. She probably wanted to just leave that life behind her and start over. Maybe this time she wouldn't be as screwed up by the results.

Hardly skimming the words in Wes's text, Blaine didn't even comprehend it. Honestly, he almost didn't care at the moment. Yeah, it did produce a small feeling in him, but he didn't want to even think about it. He just wanted to read Kurt's text and be done with it. He just wanted to drop his phone back into his bag and forget about it. He just wanted to forget all of the crap that had happened… or was it that he wanted to remember the good things? He didn't even know anymore.

Numbing his thoughts and feelings inside, Blaine moved on to Kurt's message. For a minute, as he read it, there was a rush of something through his whole body. It made him remember how, when he first met Kurt, their texts would be the highlights of his day.

Courage, Kurt's text read. Please, if it's the only thing you remember. Courage… just like you taught me.

Within moments, the something that had been inside of Blaine was gone, and he was left staring at the phone in his hands. The word courage was haunting him, because he knew that he didn't have it. No matter how much Kurt thought of Blaine as his courageous savior, Blaine knew better. He knew the truth. He was just a weak, pathetic boy that used to wake up every day thinking that it would be better, and going to bed every night knowing that if anything, it was worse.

And all he was left with was this. Some sort of relief that his father hadn't killed him yet, and an impractical hope that his mother might still come back for him.

But neither of them care, either way. He doesn't hate me enough, and she doesn't love me enough. I'm just nothing.

Who would really care if I just didn't exist anymore? Would anyone care if they just woke up one morning and I was gone?