Killer in Shadow

2.

Blaine had been in McKinley for almost two weeks now and every afternoon he found himself spending time in the library, studying alone. Things were a little different than what he had imagined to be. McKinley was somewhat an unwelcome place for new students. He could only hope that things would not get as dull as now after another week or so, since his audition for the glee club was scheduled on the third week. Blaine would not ask McKinley to offer him anything more than a glee club. His craving to sing had been bugging him all summer, it was an addiction without the cure, and singing was his only drug to escape the reality in this world.

Deep in his thought, he only noticed another student had taken a seat in front of him when the noise of flipping pages was made. That student, who was now scanning through paragraph to paragraph, had the same textbook as Blaine's, and he seemed to have no idea which part was assigned. Decided to be a better schoolmates than he was in Dalton, he cleared his voice and spoke to the boy.

“It's page thirty-one if you're in AP biology class.”

The boy looked up, slightly confused about what Blaine had just said, he smiled shyly and turned to page thirty-one.

“We have the same textbook, so I assume you must be in AP biology class.” Blaine explained further.

“Oh,” the boy beamed, “that is very observant of you. Thank you.”

 “No worries.”

In between their conversations Blaine noticed the boy had beautiful chestnut hair that looked so silky. His skin, pale but soft, left no room for marks or flaws. The watery blue eyes attached to Blaine's eyes, feeling even more puzzled now, the boy withdrew his eye contact away. He opened his notebook and began to write down notes on the blank page.

Blaine was stunned. He never found a boy attractive, but as exciting as it could be studying in a library, he felt the raising heart rate was going against his will to study. He could no longer concentrate on his reading, so instead of playing pretend, Blaine did the first move.

“Sorry to bother you again, but...” Hesitated, “Is there any chance you're in P.A. Wilson's class?”

The boy stopped, looked up to Blaine again with his gorgeous eyes, and when he finally realized he was being asked, he replied.

“No, I'm in C.L. Wilson's.”

“Oh, what a shame. I heard the teachers were married, is that true? I mean, they have the same last name.” Asked Blaine, trying to push away the thick mist of awkwardness.

The boy shrugged. “Maybe, I've heard about the rumours but never see them together.”

“I'm Blaine Anderson, by the way.” He extended his hand to the boy.

The boy smiled to him and shook on it. “Kurt Hummel.”

The next ten minutes they both didn't speak. With his eyes skimming through the same page again and again, Blaine did not have an even slightest idea on how to make the small talks work. In Dalton full of boys of same grade, he never found himself in such an uncomfortable spot. The picture of Kurt's face flashing across his mind everytime when he tried to concentrate, unfamiliar of the feelings he was experiencing, he needed a walk to free his mind.

As he packed his things back in his bag, one of his pens dropped to the floor. He bent down to pick up the pen, unnoticed, Kurt was doing the same. When their hands touched each other's, Blaine felt the electric running through in his vein to his heart. Kurt laughed faintly and picked up the pen.

“Here you go.” He handed over the pen to Blaine.

“Thanks.” Blaine took the pen and put it back into his bag. “It's very nice to meet you, Kurt.”

“Me too.”

Blaine grabbed his hair. “I should go. I'll see you next time, maybe?”

“Sure.” Kurt nodded.

Blaine walked out of the library. On his way to home, he wonder what today would mean to him. Surely, just a conversation with another boy would not change anything to his life, and surely they might not see each other again anyway in a big campus like McKinley High. But it didn't do his heart a justice. His heart was bumping in a rhythm he never met. The rhythm, strong at one beat, faint at another, like a fish swimming in a river, and he could never catch that fish. The less he tried to think about it, the more he recalled the details of the face of the boy.

His heart was a mystery under the endless cloudy sky.

The other side of the road was an old lady sitting at the bus station reading a broadsheet newspaper. Although it was at a distance, Blaine could see the picture and the title on the front page. In the picture it was a face of a female adolescent smiling, with title saying that she was missing. The traffic light turned green and Blaine crossed the road.

He bit his lips.

By the time his lower lip was all bruised with faint blood, he was standing in front of his home. He pushed the gate open and took out his key to open the door.

What had he done? He screamed in his head as he walked into the house. All of the sudden he had lost his energy and knelt down on the floor. His hands pressed against the cold ground and his eyes squeezed shut. Blaine wished there could be someone here to tell him that he was fine, it was all just a nightmare. Nothing was real and the monsters did not exist. He sat down, his head against the front door and buried his face into the darkness.

In the darkness there was no light, no voice, no guidance. Air never existed and ground that once to be firmed was now floating water. Blaine drifted, aimlessly, in the ocean of nothingness. He could feel waves of emotions, but they died out before he could reach them. A teardrop now seemed so insignificant. Nothing would compare to this hollow water that brought Blaine to strange places he never wanted to be. It was a deep hole in the ocean with no thoughts or echoes would ever escape, never. He was trapped, eternally.

“It's okay. You are going to be fine.” A voice came from the kitchen.

“Kurt?” Bewildered, he opened his eyes and turned to the voice.

A figure with Kurt's voice stood in the kitchen. It moved slowly toward Blaine. He wept the tears that were blocking his view, and a familiar warm face appeared.

“No, it's your mother.” The voice now became clear that it was indeed his mother.

She sat next to Blaine and held his head to her chest. “Hush, darling, you'll be fine.” She comforted.

“I miss you so much, mama.” Blaine sobbed. His body quivering in the warm hug he longed. He could even smell the washing powder that his mother once used. It was refreshing, lemon with a floral smell that he could not recognize. He had missed it.

“Please don't go, mama, stay with me.” He begged.

His mother was still as pale and fragile as he remembered, and her skin was rough with scars after years of hard work to raise her family. But it was warm. The hug had always been warm even in the coldest day in winter storm. Her voice although aged along with her face, it was soothing to hear. Blaine held on tightly to his mother like a child, afraid that the next moment she would disappear.

“I won't, as long as you stay good.”

“I will, mama.” Blaine closed his eyes.

“And that's my boy.” The voice fainted.

He knew his mama was gone, but he was too scared to open his eyes and check the reality. Maybe if he closed his eyes long enough, what was true would become untrue, and what was once a dream would come alive.

Across the room was a floor clock that his grandfather left for his mother. It had stopped working since a very long time. And Blaine, like the clock, was trapped in the cage of the past.