The first thing Blaine did when he woke up was mentally berated his body for falling asleep in the first place.  He wanted to stay awake. He wanted to be alert.  He didn't want to seem complacent or complicit.  Yet he had fallen asleep and the first thing he noticed when he awoke that was a blanket had been thrown over him completely.

The second thing was that he was alone in the bed.

The ache in his head had pulled away, leaving behind an echo of pain that he still could feel when he moved his head too fast, like he did when he glanced around the room to see if Kurt was anywhere around him.  He was alone though, aside from the light pouring in from the window that took up the whole wall on one side of the room, a room that was bigger than his whole suite in the NYADA dorms.

Kurt's side of the bed was a mess, and clearly he wasn't the kind of man that cleaned up after himself.  Several ties hung over the edge of the bed, as well as the arm of a shirt that was now mostly hanging to the floor.  The bedside table wasn't much better.  On it was not just one, but two ashtrays heaped with cigarette butts, a half empty bottle of scotch, and few open bottles of asprin.

Clearly the guy had issues, not the least of which was purchasing other humans.

A sound from the lower level caught Blaine's attention then, and he hopped out of bed and scurried out of the room.  It was at that point he could make out a woman's voice, cursing in a language he didn't know, and hope swelled up within him.  Someone else was there.  Someone could alert the authorities and get him out.

He followed the noise with his toes, feet still aching and swollen, and found himself in the entrance to the kitchen where a petite brunette, a little on the dumpy side, was sweeping up his mess from the night before.  Her blue uniform, which looked a little like a more professional set of nursing scrubs, gave her away as hired help - but help was exactly what Blaine needed.

“Hey, hey… excuse me.  You need to help me.  I've been kidnapped, or bought rather… illegally.  They guy here - he's a criminal and-”

“NO.”  Was the firm, stiff reply of the woman who looked up to him with narrowed eyes, wagging a dustpan towards him like a scolding finger.  “You no talk to me.”

“But-”

“No!” She admonished him again, her accent heavy on her lips.  “You go now.  I work.”

“I can't go though I-”

“No!  No, no, no, no.”  She insisted, shooing him off now with the broom and dustpan.  “Mista' Hummel say no talk you.  You go ‘way.”

“But he's -”

“NO!”

Blaine's hands balled into frustrated fists which he shook at his sides.  His teeth squeaked together under the pressure of him grinding them together.  How to make her understand…

But Blaine had no time to think, nor to argue.  A voice came over an intercom he didn't know existed and he jumped in place when he heard it.

“Leave her alone Blaine.  She's just there to clean.”

Shit.  There was microphones or camera in this place, enough for Kurt to know what he was trying to do, not that the maid was having any of his attempts to have her act on his behalf.  Angrily he spun on his heels, yelling up at the ceiling since he wasn't quite sure where the speaker was that had projected Kurt's voice.

“You can't keep me here!”

There was silence in response, and that aggravated Blaine even more than if Kurt had replied.  The silent treatment was something his mother had used on his dad when they had fought, or what Blaine's female friends did to their boyfriends when they were upset.  It wasn't supposed to happen between two men who were not in a relationship and in which one had decided they owned the other.  

“Answer me!”

But Kurt was silent, and the maid continued on her cleaning.  In a way Blaine felt bad that someone else was dealing with the mess he made, on the other hand he felt like she deserved it since she wasn't helping him out anyhow.  If anything he should smash more plates for her to clean up.

Again though, he wasn't given the opportunity to consider acting as the front door swung open and Blaine rushed to see if it was someone new who could help him, but found himself faced again with the man he least wanted to see.

Kurt.

“What the hell?  You're not satisfied to trap me against my will that you have to spy on me too?!”

Kurt's eyes looked down at Blaine, as if he were something boring and dull, and then lifted as he let out a low sigh.  “I had the security system installed when I moved into here.  This is the first time it's activated to noise.”

“Oh?  And you just HAPPENED to be right outside when it happened?”  Blaine snapped, wagging a finger at Kurt.

“No.  I happened to be in my office upstairs.”

The complete monotone of Kurt's high voice and the way with which he looked at Blaine indifferently when he said it, along with the knowledge that Blaine wasn't going to be able to be too far away from Kurt even when he was working made Blaine's stomach harden and sink within his abdomen.  He needed to sit to deal with the weight inside him and yet he wanted to rush through the door behind Kurt, to see if that siren inside him still turned on if he did.

Yet he didn't dare.

“Unless you intend to clean the apartment for me, do not distract my maid, and I also wouldn't advise bothering others who come by here because they all work with or for me.  They know you exist, and in what capacity you're here, and they won't be receptive to your pleas for assistance.  The sooner you accept your situation, the better off you'll be.”

Blaine lifted his eyes, using them to glare at Kurt and show just how much he thought of what Kurt was saying.  Like hell he was going to accept this as his life now or ever.  There were laws in place against this kind of thing, and once Blaine figured out how to get out of this place, he was going to bring down the full force of the justice system on this man.

“Now do I need to babysit you or do you think you can manage on your own for a bit?”

Babysit… as if he were a child and not a full adult man with rights and freedoms.  

“Let me go.”

“No.”

Kurt left then, giving Blaine no chance to respond and letting the door click and lock shut behind him  The maid followed soon thereafter as Blaine stood staring at the door that they seemed to have no problem passing through, but had caused him unspeakable agony.

Yet he had recovered….

If it meant freedom in the end, the means would have to justify the end, and the pain that had exploded in his head when he went through the door would be worth it.  With a deep breath, Blaine stepped forward, opened the door and….

…. fell to the ground screaming as the banshee cry shot between his ears just like it had the night before.  It was all he could hear, and his eyes teared up from the intensity.  Palms covered his ears in an attempt to block out the noise but because the sound was internal, it didn't work.  A small part of his brain reminded him that he would have to somehow work through the pain in order to get out, and so he slowly squirmed his body forward, so that half of his body was out of the door and the other half was still inside.  If he could keep moving - he could do this.  He just had to keep….

The thrumming in his head got worse with each centimeter he pushed himself forward, and the tears flowed out of his straining eyes like the spray of a hose.  He could taste iron on his tongue, and knew he was just making things worse for himself, but he had gotten that far, surely he could go further?

But as much as he wanted to keep going, his brain had enough, and clicked off, taking him with it.  Down he spiralled, into a dreamless sleep, and only surfaced again much later with his head still aching and his body still sore, though now he was back on the bed he had begun his day at, and the cry from within his brain had stopped.

Blaine's eyes felt dry when he opened them, and the light from the room made them feel like they were burning backwards into his skull so he shut them quickly and let out a soft groan.  His noise alerted someone close to him, and he felt a weight shift on the other side of the bed and move closer to him as he tried to pull away from it.

“I will get someone to watch you if necessary.”

Whatever fury had been contained by the soreness of his body came right back up below his skin on hearing Kurt's voice, and he tried to yank himself away from the cool cloth he felt being placed against his forehead - even though the sensation of the cold felt good.  

“Jesus fucking…. stay still….”

“Let me go….”

Blaine almost didn't recognize his own voice as he spoke, and wondered if the screaming he had heard before was his own.  Running through that door already felt like a dream, along with the suffering he had put himself through because of it.  Nothing about this past day, or the night before, felt real.  This was the stuff of fantasy and movies.

Kurt sighed close enough to him that Blaine could smell his nicotine stained breath and gagged from it, turning away involuntarily and moaning again at the way his brain seemed to slap against the side of his skull from the motion.

“I have groceries and new plates, plastic, being delivered within the hour, along with current top picks in fiction.  Is there anything else I should call in for you?”

Blaine's mind spun around, wondering if he had missed a step in the sequence of their conversation, but realizing that Kurt was ultimately just redirecting it.  “Yeah.  The police.”

“Alright then.  I'll let you be for now…”

The bed shifted again and Blaine listened as footsteps led off into the hallway and down the stairs.  Again he was alone.  Dreadfully alone.  For the past few years Blaine had always been surrounded by people.  Other students, teachers, actors, singers, bands… he had been roomed in the NYADA dorms with three other boys since that's all he could afford on his own.  When he wasn't at school he was working in a busy cafe, and when he wasn't there he was following Sebastian around along with all their theater friends.  Even during their brief time in Cuba Blaine had been swallowed up by the crowds of people, of children, and other tourists.

It had been a long time since he had been alone for such a long stretch of time, and that had been purposeful too.  When he had been alone, he had only himself to speak with, and he never had anything good to tell himself.

Even less now.

Blaine cried again quietly, not wanting to draw Kurt's attention.  He wanted his freedom back.  His freedom to be part of a flock that he could be hidden among.  He didn't want this man's attention.  He didn't want to have to be alone with his thoughts.  

Eventually he gave himself a mental slap in the face and dragged himself out of the bed, cringing as his feet felt worse than they had in the morning when he stepped on them.  There was an ensuite bathroom to Kurt's room, which Blaine used to wash his reddened, tear streaked face clean, though otherwise avoided looking at himself too long - afraid of seeing the failure his dad said he'd amount to if he went to New York.  Then he went out of the room, down the stairs, and to the living area where Kurt was settled, flipping through a book on stocks and sipping a glass of something that Blaine was willing to bet was alcoholic.  When he saw Blaine, he lifted his eyebrows slightly, but didn't otherwise acknowledge Blaine.

“What do I have to do to be free?”