Chapter 2:

Blaine's eyes followed the stranger as he walked away, then back at the money he had put next to Blaine. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking he might be seeing things. Is that really a 100 dollar bill, or am I dreaming? He hadn't even noticed the stranger putting down the money, because he was too entranced by his beauty. The stranger had beautiful, perfectly coifed chestnut-colored hair, eyes that you could just drown in, flawless porcelain skin, and beautiful bone structure. Blaine was surprised he hadn't melted then and there. When his eyes were locked with the stranger's, Blaine thought he was going to faint. The man was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Even the way he was dressed complimented his lithe, but slightly muscular body.

Blaine blinked a few times and slowly picked the money off the floor. He gave me 100 dollars. That's more money than I've had in weeks.

Blaine's eyes almost blurred with tears. He could finally buy something decent to eat, instead of the really cheap canned crap he would buy at the store. He could also buy a new jacket that would actually keep him warm, unlike the one he was currently freezing in.

He slowly, shakily got off the floor to go do some errands he's been desperate to do ages ago, with the money the gorgeous stranger had given him.

The whole walk there, Blaine's chest was fluttering oddly and his stomach was filled with butterflies. It was an unfamiliar feeling, yet not entirely unwelcome.

"I'll see you soon, hun." Kurt said to his secretary once he finished his meeting. It had been about an hour since it started, and he could honestly say that that was one of the most boring meetings he's ever been in.

The editor from the rival magazine had requested to collaborate with Kurt's, claiming it would become a bigger and better magazine, but Kurt refused. The editor was a downright bitch, and Kurt couldn't even tolerate her for two seconds, let alone collaborating with her. During the entire meeting, Kurt couldn't stop thinking about that homeless man. He couldn't stop thinking about the gorgeous, breathtaking eyes, and the Greek-god face.

Just as he exited the building, Kurt felt the sudden urge to at least check on the stranger. I just want to see if he's alright. What's the harm in that?

After shopping for a few necessities, and finally satisfying his starving stomach, Blaine settled back against the wall of his usual spot on the alleyway, and began to think.

Who knew Blaine Anderson, son of James Anderson, one of the best lawyers in Ohio, would end up here? Funny how one minute you could be happy, and in the next second, your world can come crashing down.

Blaine usually wasn't one to give up on happiness, but after everything that's happened in his life, he just couldn't see how he could be happy again. He knew he shouldn't be bitter about his life, but sometimes he couldn't help it. How was he supposed to not be bitter when finding something to eat everyday was practically a battle? Well, today wasn't entirely a battle since that gorgeous man gave you 100 fucking dollars. Blaine blushed at the memory of the man's face, his heart fluttering. But really, when you don't even know that you'll find anything to eat the next day, when you're constantly being harassed and told to just go kill yourself, because 'people like you' shouldn't litter the streets, it was hard to stay happy. Maybe I really should just kill myself and stop being such a burden to the world.

Every night before Blaine would cuddle up against whatever cloth he had, he would take out the letter his brother had written, and read it all over again. No matter how many times he read it, he always ended up crying himself to sleep. His heart ached for his twin, whether or not their relationship was a little tight before the whole getting kicked out fiasco, or not. He ached for his brother more than he ached for both of his parents combined. In fact, he didn't really ache for his parents. Sure, after he was kicked out, he cried for hours, missing the warmth in his mother's eyes that used to be directed at him, but remembering the disgust and hate that replaced it after he said he was gay.

He ached for love.

Whether if it was from a potential lover, a family member, or a friend, he ached for love.

Just as he was about the close his eyes to take a little nap, he heard loud, harsh laughter. His eyes snapped open, for some reason expecting his father, but what greeted him was a group of about four teenage boys. They were approaching him fast, and one of them was holding a baseball bat. Blaine began to panic. This can't be good.

"Hey there, faggot. Who gave you the permission to dirty the streets with your filth?" One of them said harshly, making the rest of the group laugh out loud.

"Yeah, dirt-bag. Your existence is useless. All of you hobos should just go jump off a cliff and die." The one with the bat said, laughing.

"We should get rid of him." The redhead suggested, an evil glint in his eyes.

Blaine ignored them and pretended to rummage through his plastic bag, but his heart was plummeting against his chest, and his hands were getting clammy. He could see the group of boys turning to each other to discuss something out of the corner of his eye, seemingly who would be the one to do the job, and Blaine could see the bat being exchanged from the black haired boy to the red head.

Blaine's panic clouded his mind, and he got up quickly to get away, but was pulled back harshly by one of the boys by his collar. He fell back onto the rough concrete, and Blaine could see the boy raise the bat.

Let him kill you. You'll finally stop being such a burden to everyone. His inner voice told him. Dying is easier that living. Just let him kill you.

He shut his eyes slowly, smiling slightly as the last memory in his head was an image of Blaine and his brother at the lake when they were children, and then nothing.

Kurt was just rounding the corner, his body giddy at the thought of seeing the beautiful boy again, when he stopped dead in his tracks, his stomach falling hard. The stranger was lying on the floor motionless, a pool of blood beneath him, while teenage boys kicked him and hit him with what seemed to be a baseball bat.

"What the fuck are you doing? Stop!" Kurt yelled, his voice filled with shock, panic, and rage. He rarely cursed, but his mouth and legs were moving on their own accord, and before he knew it, he was speed-walking in the direction of the body.

The teenage boys' heads snapped up. They quickly backed away, and began to run in the opposite direction, afraid of being caught. Kurt ran to the body on the floor, his heart in his throat. "Please be okay, please be okay." He whispered shakily while shaking the man's small frame, trying to wake him. Feeling useless, Kurt took out his phone and called an ambulance.

About an hour later, Kurt was at the hospital listening to what the doctor was saying, both of them standing next to the bed where the homeless man lay.

"Is he okay?" Kurt asked nervously.

"He will be with a lot of rest and care. Thankfully, the blow to the head he received caused only a mild concussion, which means he'll be out for a while. As for the blood you saw, that was from body injuries, which can be healed. Although, if you hadn't gotten there any sooner, he probably would have gotten another hit to the head and it could have cracked his skull and killed him. Now, he has a couple of broken ribs, severe bruising, and a few cuts here and there, but no internal bleeding. It'll take a few weeks for him to fully heal."

Kurt nodded absentmindedly, his brain on overdrive. If I hadn't gone to the meeting, if I just stayed there or something, this wouldn't have happened. If I had at least gotten there sooner, he wouldn't be here, it's my fau-

"What did you say his name was?" The doctor asked, cutting Kurt's self-accusatory train of thoughts.

"I-I didn't. He's, um… He's actually a homeless man, I think. I was just walking by when I saw the boys hitting him." Kurt said, his voice a little above a whisper and his head lowered. When the stranger hadn't woken up when he tried shaking him, he panicked. For some reason, the thought of this man getting hurt made his heart clench.

" I see… Well, since we don't know his name, we can't contact his family, if he even has one, and we can't keep him in the hospital. He doesn't have a medical card, and since you said he's homeless, I'm pretty sure getting one is something he can't afford to do, and he can't just be left alone on the streets."

Kurt's eyes were a little watery as they darted from the doctor to the curly haired boy on the bed. His mouth speaking before his brain approved of what he said. "Yes, I'll take him in, and I'll cover the medical bill."

The doctor nodded, and called for a nurse to take Kurt's credit card information.

"Now, the bandages need to be changed every 4 to 5 hours. If he gets a headache, then give him a pill of this." The doctor said, handing Kurt the bottle of pills. "Also, you need to make sure he doesn't move too much. He needs to heal, and he can't do that by moving around. He'll have to be brought in in a couple of weeks to check on the healing of his ribs, but other than that, he should be fine."

Kurt nodded silently and looked back at the body. After the doctor bid his farewell to go attend to another patient, Kurt slowly walked up to the bed and stared at the lifeless body that lay on it. He gently touched the man's swollen cheek, caressing it as he took in the bruises and the bandages. He pulled his hand back and requested for someone to help him carry the stranger to the car.

It was practically your fault, anyway. Now it's your responsibility to make sure he's okay.

Ow.

Blaine opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. His head was absolutely pounding. He groaned and shut his eyes quickly. He brought a hand to his head, thinking that if he pressed a little, the headache would go away.

He frowned, wincing at the pain that caused, when he felt how swollen his face was. He brought his other hand to his head, feeling around until he felt some king of cloth. He opened his eyes once again, slower this time, and he realized that he wasn't on the streets, that he was actually on something soft. Wait, what happened? He looked down and noticed that he was on a couch. Blaine panicked and looked around. Where am I?

Suddenly, the events from earlier came crashing down. He remembered the boys, the bat, the kicking, the laughing, and more importantly, the fact that he was going to die. That he wanted to die. Why the fuck am I still alive?

Blaine felt anger flare up inside him. He was finally going to die, finally going to stop being such a burden to the world, but no. Of course, life just kept dragging him back by the hair. Reality kept punching him in the got at every chance it got. Literally.

He tried to get up, when he felt a very sharp pain in his ribs, and collapsed back onto the couch, groaning as he clutched at his chest.

"You're not supposed to get up," A voice said softly.

Blaine's head whipped around, only to come face to face with the gorgeous, flawless man he had seen before.

When Blaine said nothing, the beautiful man smiled slightly and continued. "I was passing by when those teenage boys were beating you up. You were already unconscious when I got there, so I took you to the hospital." The stranger stood up and walked closer to him, raising his hand to push Blaine onto the couch, when it was slapped away.

Blaine demanded angrily, "Why did you help me? I could have been dead by now! But no, you had to go over there and act like the hero and bring me back to this shit world!"

The stranger stumbled back, as if Blaine had slapped him, the hurt, shock, and confusion evident on his face. "W-What-"

Suddenly, the anger Blaine was feeling was replaced by a pain in his heart so hard that his entire body started trembling, and his voice was barely a whisper. "W-Why didn't you just let m-me die?" He curled in on himself, his eyes pooling with tears. "I just want to die."

Kurt definitely hadn't expected the man to react that way. When he exploded on him, Kurt almost fell back onto the coffee table. The anger in his voice was like a punch in the gut. Just when Kurt was about to interject once again, the anger disappeared from the man's face, and hurt suddenly and quickly replaced it. The hurt Kurt could see in his eyes were like a blow to the heart.

"W-Why didn't you just let m-me die?" The stranger whispered, his entire body trembling. "I just want to die."

Kurt couldn't move for a minute, couldn't breathe. He felt his own tears pooling in his eyes as he heard the quiet sobs coming from the broken man -no, boy- in front of him. He wanted to die?

Kurt stumbled to the boy, mindful of the bruises, and pulled him against him. He half expected the stranger to pull away, but he simply melted against Kurt, his sobs growing even louder, wracking his entire frame. The sudden need to protect this boy, to help him, was so overwhelming that Kurt tightened his grasp. His heart was aching, and his tears were dripping onto the mop of curly hair that was tucked into his neck.

Kurt closed his eyes. "You're safe. I promise."