The first time Blaine hears the boys voice hes having a hushed conversation on a cell phone that appears to be made out of more duct tape than actual phone.  Its also the first time Blaine notices the black nail polish on the boys fingernails too.

"Just get the stuff Quinn.  He knows were good for it.... Yah...  Yah.... Dont worry.  Ill get some dates tonight and well be good....  Well fuck that...."

Blaine is pretty sure the dates the boy goes on dont include a romantic candlelit dinner and a movie.

Not long after that event is the first time that Blaine sees the boy away from his corner.  Rachel sent him off to the 24 hour grocer a few blocks away and right in front of him in line is the boy, paying in loose change for a pack of condoms, a small bottle of lube, and a chocolate bar.

"Snoop much?" 

Blaine had only looked at the items for a second, but it was in that second that he had been caught, catching the scowl and stare of piercing blue eyes.  As he fumbled over his own words trying to apologize, the boy left hastily, leaving Blaine with his milk and tea and relief.

This is followed by the first time Blaine has ever seen the boy speaking with anyone outside of a car or on the phone.

Although the boy is doing more yelling than talking.

"Call me a slut old lady?! Come over here and say it to my face!" He yells down the block at a tiny aged woman who is glaring at him.  Blaine is on his way home, as usual, when he finds himself standing on the sidewalk a few yards away from the boy.  Given how much posturing and reckless gesturing the boy is doing as he spits the words at the woman, Blaine isnt sure if its safe to walk by him.

"Youre a whore and you make this whole neighbourhood look bad!" The woman yells back at him, clearly with more guts than Blaine has at the moment.

"Whore? WHORE?!  Get your facts straight lady! Im a fucking cocksucker!" 

The woman looks completely taken aback by the statement and the boy just breaks into a fit of laughter, amused by his own antics.

Blaine isnt sure if he should laugh along because, content aside, it is kind of funny.  He keeps quiet though, and as the woman decides she cant argue that and walks away, the boy turns and sees Blaine there.  

"Maybe Id make more though if I charged for staring huh?" The scowl makes a reappearance and Blaine hastily looks at the sidewalk and walks as quickly as he can to his apartment without looking back.

Blaine doesnt usually see the boy on weekends, but thats because he alternates each weekend between his moms house in Conneticut with his dads house in Boston.  With Rachel so busy with her career already, the guilt of visitation is passed down to him.  Shell occasionally accompany him, but not enough to really make either of their parents happy even though they say its alright.  

Theres one weekend though in early January when Blaine has come up from Boston early since his dad was leaving for a conference on the Sunday.  Blaine doesnt get back to his street until close to one in the morning and the first thing he sees on his street is that pink haired boy leaning back against the building as he sits on the ground.  As Blaine gets closer and hazards a look, he can see through the hazy light of the streetlamps that the boy must have had a hard night.  His right eye is swollen and puffy and theres a cut on his lip thats still fresh.

"Can I help you with something fucker or are you just going to stare again?"

Again Blaine loses all nerve to say or do anything and just rushes past and into his apartment.

The boy is gone for a couple days after that, and when Blaine sees him next the bruising around his eye has already faded and hes got it covered with some makeup to dull its appearance.  Inwardly Blaine is grateful that the boy is okay, and then he gives himself a mental slap in the face because how fine could that boy be if hes out selling his body in the first place?

It leads Blaine to read up on prostitution, though he can only go through so much before he gets sickened by it and turns back to the much more stomach friendly topics of history and finance.  

Of course, Rachel, being the snoopy sister she is, finds his browser history before he has a chance to delete it.

"Blaine!  Youd better not be planning to bring any hookers in this house!"

"Thats not why I was looking that stuff up!  Honest!"

"Well enlighten me then because I have half a mind to call mom to set you straight."

Blaine groans and tells her about the boy on the street below.  Shes less than sympathetic, and given her history with Brody, the ex-boyfriend, he can sort of understand.

"Get over it.  Streetwalkers are all over this city and the only reason you dont see them more is because mom and dad made sure we were set up in a good part of town.  You ever see Bushwick?"  She shudders, "Crackwhores and homeless people galore there.  Were just lucky we only have to deal with one here."

Blaine lets it go because arguing with Rachel is like arguing with a wall, only the wall might eventually break or give way.  Hes pretty sure she got her role in Funny Girl by refusing to let the director think there was any other options for Fanny Brice but her.

He doesnt stop sneaking peaks at the boy though when he passes him by every day, even when he gets a scowl or glare in response.  

Bruises seem to fade and reappear on the boy, blemishing his otherwise flawless alibaster skin.  Occasionally theres a cut as well.  More than occasionally the boy sports dark circles under his eyes and when he isnt wearing shades, Blaine can sometimes see that his eyes are bloodshot.  

Over time Blaine also picks up on the boys habits. He sees the boy nibbling on his fingernails, chewing on his lower lip, and twirling bits of his short hair around his finger.  He can tell when the boy is about to approach a car by the way his head moves and the way he seems to become more alert.  Blaine is also sure that when the boy paces in place its because its a slow night and he must be bored.

Honestly, what would you do between customers?

Still, it must be a good spot because the boy is there faithfully every evening.  Blaine only sees so many interactions between the boy and his customers, and has never overheard any of the information the boy tells the client before he slips into a car.  How much does he get?  How does he know he wont be hurt?  If he was hurt and stopped showing up would anyone else notice or care? Would another prostitue just show up there after awhile and resume business?

Its a frosty February night when Blaine is actually in town on a Saturday night that Blaine is able to finally do more than just look and wonder when it comes to the boy.  He is awoken by noises out on the street and glancing through his window he sees the boy being tossed around between three men, shoving him to and fro like a rag doll and laughing.  The boy is trying to escape with each shove, but seems weak on his legs and unable to do much but try and argue.  

Blaine throws on his coat, grabs an umbrella from the front closet, and rushes out without a thought to his own safety.  Why no one else is responding immediately aggravates him because theres no shortage of people around here.  Either no one cares or no one can be bothered.

Blaine has decided hes not one of those people.

He rushes out the front door and yells with all his might.  He hasnt made action plan and is just hoping that being noticed by someone is enough to scare the men away.

Miraculously, his yelling at them to stop and flailing with the umbrella seems to do the trick.  The three men pile into a car idling on hype street by them and speed off, leaving the boy to collapse in the frost that has lined the street in the early hours.  Blaine rushes over and kneels down by him, first checking his pulse.  Its there, but Blaines fingers come away from the boys throat with blood on them.  

"Oh hell...."  Blaine grabs his cell phone out of his pocket and shakily starts to dial 9-1-1 but a hand reaches up and smacks the phone away from him before he can hit send.

"No." The boy weakly squeaks out.

Blaine ignores him and reaches for the phone on the ground, and again the boy tries to put up a fight, this time knocking Blaines hand back with his own. "Dont."

"Youre bleeding and hurt.  You need help!"

A final effort on the boys part, and Blaine can tell it takes up most of his energy because he gasps afterwards, is to bat the phone away which causes it to slide under a parked car.  Blaine swears and looks down at the boy who is wheezing and coughing by him.  Hes been out in the the dark now long enough for his eyes to have adjusted and can see that there are tears all over the boys clothing, as well as blood.  His face is puffy, as is his lip.  Theres no way Blaine can handle this on his own.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"No... Insurance..... And.... Would.... End.... Up..... In.... Jail....." The boy heaves out, breath by breath. "Im ... Fine.... Just... Need.... To.... Sleep.... It.... Off...."

Blaines jaw drops, because really, if he was in the same predicament he would expect nothing less than an emergency room and several days in the hospital.  He isnt in the same situation though, and hes painfully aware of it, but this is not something he can just walk away from now.

Still no one else has come out, and the sourness in Blaines stomach has only grown because of it.  Its bad enough that no one seems to care about this boy enough to come out and help him, but now theres no one out to even help a neighbour in need - and Blaine is definitely in need.  

The boys breathing becomes lighter and more raspy, and Blaine realizes that hes fallen asleep, or passed out on the cold, wet concrete.  Left with no other choices, Blaine hooks one arm under the boys knees and the other around around his back and lifts.  

Hes surprisingly light and without much effort, and by leaving the umbrella on the ground, Blaine is able to enter the code into the keypad on the front entrance of his apartment with only his thumb and then maneuver himself through the narrow hallways, up the stairs, and back into his apartment where he sets down the boy on the couch.

Throughout it all, the boy doesnt stir at all.

"Oh no.  Oh no, no, no.  Blaine.  This is not happening." Rachels voice calls as she exits her bedroom in a robe, hair all in curlers and sees the boy on her couch.

"He was attacked Rachel!  No one helped him!"

"That doesnt mean you have to!  Thats what cops are for!" She hisses at him, arms gesturing madly.

Blaine shakes his head, walking by her to get a blanket out of the linen closet in the hallway. "Well they didnt come and no one else did either."

"Blaine.  No."

She steps in front of him on his way back to the living room, blocking his path and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Fine.  You carry him back out and lay him back down on the street if you dont want him here.  Im going to do the humane thing." 

She huffs and thats all she gets the chance to do because Blaine pushes past her and covers the boy up so hes not cold - even though their apartment has to be much more temperate than what hes used to outside.  Then hes off to the kitchen to get their first aid kit and some water.

Rachel hovers nearby, like an antsy mother hen, and watches as Blaine carefully wipes the boy clean of blood.  He sleeps through it all, and even moves into the touch of the warm wipe when it caresses his cheeks.  Under her breath, Rachel mutters about idiotic brothers and deathwishes, but Blaine ignores it in favour of silently appreciating how much less hardened the boy looks when hes sleeping and doesnt have to keep up the tough boy act.  Under the puffy skin and bruises forming, he actually looks sweet. 

Blaine has to uncover him to wipe down his arms, seeing old circular scars on his arms that look suspiciously like cigarette burns as well as a myriad of other scarring.  His vest has been pulled apart in a couple places, exposing the alibaster skin beneath.  His pants were already torn, part of his signiture look, but Blaine notices that his zipper is down and button isnt clasped and his stomach sinks further as his mind reasons why that probably is.  

Rachel eventually throws her arms up in defeat and tells Blaine that if shes raped and stabbed in her sleep then its on his conscious before returning to her room.  The shuffling sounds coming from within her room suggesting she was barricading her door with furniture.

Blaine stays with the boy though, worried that if he leaves the boy will die on his couch and then how would Blaine explain himself to Rachel, his parents, or the authorities?  He watches the rise and fall of the boys chest, making sure he keeps breathing, and watches to make sure theres no more obvious signs of bleeding.  In the end though, sleep finally overtakes Blaine and he dozes off against the arm of the couch

When he wakes up, the light is pressing through the curtains and warming the exposed skin on his back above his pants and below his T-shirt.  Hes created a spot of drool on the arm of the couch where his mouth was pressed against and has to rub his face over because it feels numb from sleeping like that.

And thats also when he notices the boy has left.