Blaine groggily woke up to somewhere dim. He sat up, groaning at the slight ache in his lower back to take in his surroundings. He was in a hospital room, he was sure of that. They all looked the same.
 
He took inventory of himself. He was in one of those embarrassing hospital gowns, and he had bandages  around his left wrist. He could feel the tug of bandages around his torso and idly wondered if the doctors took care of that cut.
 
Blaine exhaled softly. He didn’t want to go home. Now that his parents knew that he was gay, he'll never  have a chance at happiness at home with his family. They basically kicked him out. Granted, they threw him out every few months, but they always brought him back in to avoid questions from nosy friends and family members.
 
He heard a gasp from the door. "Blaine?"
 
Blaine pulled himself form his thoughts. Speak of the devil, his parents were at the door, wearing identical fake looks of concern. A man accompanied them, Blaine assumed he was the doctor, and walked up to Blaine.
 
"Hello, Blaine," he greeted, clipboard in hand. "How are you feeling?"
 
Blaine didn't answer but instead looked past his parents. "Where's Mrs. Alderman?"
 
Blaine's parents looked confused at the question, but the doctor answered, "She had to go run an errand. She told me she would be back shortly."
 
Blaine nodded. He gingerly felt his temple, since a headache started to form. "Am I all right?" he asked.
 
The doctor chuckled at this. "You had a concussion, Blaine. You were unconscious for two days."
 
"We were very worried," Blaine's mother piped in. "Sweetie, I don't know what we would've done if you didn't wake up." His father seemed to agree, plastering sympathy on his face.
 
"Sweetie, is it?" Blaine muttered darkly. He lay back onto his pillow, feeling dizzy. "What else?"
 
"An old cut on your back opened - it had to be stitched. Where did you get it?" the doctor asked, looking all kinds of curious. "It seemed to be intentional. Did someone attack you?"
 
Blaine looked at his father. Behind the doctor's back, he looked absolutely murderous. He was almost daring Blaine to say something, anything that would hint that his parents beat him on a daily basis.
 
Blaine realized that this was his chance. He could say something. He could escape his house, his family, his current life. All of that, if he were brave enough to admit that his home life had a lot of problems.
 
He glanced over at his parents again. They both looked nervous, and they had their eyes trained on Blaine, giving him a cold stare.
 
He couldn't escape them. They were his parents.
 
"Blaine!"
 
Mrs. Alderman pushed her way through Blaine's parents, coming right up to his bed. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so glad you're okay!" She pulled Blaine into a gentle hug, mindful of his injuries. Blaine looked up and saw Mr. Alderman standing between his parents; he looked uncomfortable between the two of them.
 
"Thanks, Mrs. Alderman," Blaine whispered. She pulled back, a smile on her face.
 
"I brought a police officer with me, Blaine," she said. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw his parents flinch. "If you're feeling up to it, I could bring him in and you could tell him who did this." There was a spark in her bright, kind eyes; she knew who beat Blaine.
 
"Somebody attacked you?" Blaine's father asked, feigning surprise and concern. His mother tried the best she could to look horrified.
 
"Bring him in, Mrs. Alderman," Blaine said quietly. "I feel well enough."
 
She grinned and hugged him again before leaving the room, her husband following. Blaine's mother moved to his bed to give him a hug.
 
"Don't you dare tell," she whispered in his ear. "I swear we'll find you."
 
"Right this way, Officer." Mrs. Alderman's voice carried into the room from the hallway. She entered the room with a tall, burly man in a uniform following. "Blaine, this is Officer Mahon."
 
"Hi," Blaine said weakly. His mother relinquished him from her grasp and stepped back, eyeing the police officer.
 
"Can you tell me what happened?" Officer Mahon asked, his deep voice calm and gentle.
 
Blaine was speechless. How exactly was he supposed to turn his parents in? How exactly was he supposed to describe the hurt and the anger that was inflicted on him?
 
How was he supposed to escape his parents otherwise?
 
Honesty is the best policy. "My mom."
 
Officer Mahon blinked. Blaine guessed Mrs. Alderman, who didn't look too surprised but gasped quietly anyway, didn't tell him what she suspected. "What?"
 
"My mom," Blaine repeated. "And my dad." He looked over to his dad, who had paled considerably. "My mom pushed me down the stairs, and--"
 
"I don’t know what he's talking about!" his mother interrupted. "He's delusional. He just came out of a coma!"
 
Officer Mahon ignored her and continued taking notes in his little notepad. "You can continue, Blaine."
 
"My dad threw me out of the house," Blaine recounted. "He kicked me."
 
"Blaine--"
 
"Mr. Anderson, please," Officer Mahon said coldly. "Have your parents ever hurt you before?"
 
Blaine swallowed. "Every day."
 
"How?"
 
Blaine opened his mouth, but nothing came out. In every way. "Well," Blaine said, remembering an instance, "my dad came at me with a knife two weeks ago."
 
Officer Mahon nodded. "Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, if you could please come with me…"
 
Blaine's parents looked shocked. They kept glancing at each other, both unsure of what to do. Officer Mahon stepped out of the room, and Blaine's parents had no choice but to follow. They both shot Blaine dirty glares as they left, and Blaine knew that he would see them again.
 
"Where are they going?" he asked faintly.
 
Mrs. Alderman wrapped Blaine in another hug. "Jail, probably," she whispered. "Honey, do you have a place to stay?"
 
Blaine thought about it. Any relatives he had lived halfway across the country. He didn't have many close friends.
 
"What about your friend Kurt!?"
 
Was Kurt his friend? Blaine guessed he was the closest thing to a friend. They talked occasionally, more often than Blaine talked to anyone else.
 
Blaine sighed and nodded. "I think so."
 
Mrs. Alderman smiled. "I would've offered, but I figured you wouldn't want to be too close to home." She sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed something from the little table by the wall. "Here's your phone, Blaine, if you need to call someone."
 
Blaine thanked her and took the phone. He scrolled down his contact list until "Kurt Hummel" showed up, and he pressed the little call symbol next to the name.
 
"Hello, Blaine?"
 
"Hi, Kurt," Blaine answered. He unconsciously started playing with his sheets.
 
"What's up?"
 
Blaine couldn't help himself when he let a sob out. Mrs. Alderman leaned forward and enveloped him in another hug, making shushing noises and prompting him to go on.
 
"I--"
 
"Is something wrong?"
 
"Yeah, I…" Blaine took a breath. "I need a place to stay."
 
"Did something happen?"
 
"Yeah, I got kicked out." It was somewhat the truth. "I-- everything's a mess."
 
"I'm really sorry to hear that."
 
Blaine nodded but thanked Kurt when he realized that Kurt couldn't hear him.
 
"Of course you can stay at my place, Blaine."
 
"Thanks, uh…"
 
"Where are you? I'll come pick you up."
 
"The hospital," Blaine muttered.
 
"What!? Blaine, what happened?"
 
"I'm fine! I just--"
 
"No," Kurt interrupted, "you tell me right now."
 
"I'll tell you when you get here, all right?" Blaine compromised. "Just-- yeah…"
 
"I'll be there in twenty minutes. This discussion is not over, Blaine."
 
Blaine smiled at this. "Okay, bye."
 
Mrs. Alderman patted his leg. "This Kurt sounds like a nice boy."
 
Blaine sighed and leaned back onto his pillows. "I guess you could say that."
 
--
 
"How late is it?" Blaine asked. He poked his fork at his dinner, not feeling very hungry.
 
"Around nine," Mrs. Alderman answered, checking her watch. "It's Sunday, if you haven't figured it out."
 
He nodded, unsure of whether or not he should eat whatever was on his plate.
 
"Blaine."
 
Blaine looked up to see Kurt at the doorway. "Hi, Kurt."
 
"Oh my God, what happened to you?" Kurt asked, entering the room. He dragged a chair from across the room up to Blaine's bedside, sitting across from Mrs. Alderman.
 
"Kurt, this is Mrs. Alderman," Blaine said. Kurt smiled and held out his hand to shake, which Mrs. Alderman. "She got me to the hospital."
 
"Well, I thank you for saving this guy's life," Kurt said, giving a sidelong glance at Blaine. "Now if he would just tell me what the problem is…"
 
Blaine sighed. "Later, please? I don't want to talk about it."
 
Kurt gave him a look before nodding. "Fine. When do you get out of here?"
 
"They said I could go, but they told me to eat first."
 
Kurt took one look at Blaine's food and wrinkled his nose. "Is that chicken?"
 
"I don't know. It kind of tastes like broccoli." Blaine wiped his face and set the food tray on the side table. "I'm done, let's go." Blaine slid out of the bed, already dressed in his own clothes, and turned to Mrs. Alderman. "Thanks, Mrs. Alderman."
 
"Oh, sweetie," she pulled him into a tight hug. "Anytime." She turned and whispered into his ear, "That Kurt boy is awfully cute. I can see why--"
 
Blaine immediately pulled away, a blush rising on his face. "It's not like that," he muttered, looking at his shoes.
 
Mrs. Alderman chuckled and turned to Kurt, pointing a stern finger at him. "Now, you take care of him. He needs someone to care for him."
 
"I will," Kurt assured, smiling. Mrs. Alderman smiled back and pulled him into a hug, despite knowing him for about ten minutes. Kurt awkwardly pulled away from the hug, giving the elderly woman a warm smile.
 
They all walked out of the hospital together and parted ways in the parking lot. Blaine followed Kurt to the Navigator, climbing into the passenger seat anxiously.
 
The drive was uneventful. Kurt attempted to start a conversation a few times, mainly revolving around the topic as to why Blaine was at the hospital in the first place, but Blaine refused to answer any questions. When they arrived at the Hudson-Hummel home, they sat in silence for a few minutes.
 
"I feel really awkward about this," Blaine said, breaking the silence.
 
"What do you mean?"
 
"I just… we barely know each other, Kurt," Blaine explained. "We're not exactly the best of friends. I feel really bad that I'm asking for a place to stay when we've never seen each other outside of school."
 
Kurt seemed to think about this for a moment. "We could become best friends." He looked at Blaine, who was avoiding Kurt's gaze. "I mean, what's a better way to bond than to live together?"
 
Blaine glanced at the house. It was a nice two-story house with a neat lawn and a colorful garden. It reminded him of his own home, but he doubted it was as cold or unwelcome. He let out a shaky breath and finally got out of the car.
 
Kurt led him through the front door. He gave Blaine a tour of the house, everything from the basement to where Blaine would be staying. They came across Kurt's father and step-mother, who both greeted Blaine with sympathetic smiles.  Blaine smiled back as genuinely as he could, but he imagined that it came out as a grimace.
 
The guest room was nice. The walls were a pale blue, and it had a large window, which was block by dark green curtains. Blaine hesitantly sat on the bed and looked around at the empty closet and the dresser.
 
"You're going back to your house to get your things, right?" Kurt asked softly. "Because if not, you could come shopping with me tomorrow after school or something. If you haven't noticed, I have an excellent eye for fashion, and maybe I could even improve your wardrobe." Kurt realized that he was somewhat babbling, but the silence felt oppressive and awkward.
 
"I'll go back," Blaine said, lying back in the bed. He wasn't looking at Kurt, but he was staring off distantly. "I don't have any money to buy clothes anyway."
 
"I would be happy to--"
 
"No, Kurt," Blaine interrupted. "You've already done enough for me." He turned to lie on his side and looked up at Kurt. "Thank you."
 
Kurt smiled, and Blaine couldn't help the swell that he felt in his heart. "Anytime," Kurt said. "Do you want something to eat? I know that hospital food wasn't very appetizing."    
 
Blaine yawned and shook his head. "I think I'll just sleep." Kurt seemed to understand, bade Blaine good night, and left the room. At the click of the door shutting, Blaine sat back up. He wrapped his arms around his knees and sighed.
 
He felt anything but tired. He felt restless. He felt confined in the slightly small room. He needed to get out.
 
But go where? Kurt's house was probably the only option for him right now.
 
Blaine let out a shuddering breath. Earlier (well, two days ago) he was confined in his own house, always looking out for himself in a place that should've been safe. Now, he had thrown his parents in jail, positive that they would get out  again and make him come back. Now he was here, in a house owned by someone he barely knew, and he was supposed to feel safer?
 
He wouldn't blame Kurt's parents if they were angry, or at least frustrated that they had to take care of another kid; they already had two to worry about. Maybe they'll lash out too.
 
Blaine draped his arm over his eyes and lay there, wide awake, until the sun rose in the morning.