Blaine sat nervously, tapping his fingers on the table as he waited for Kurt to come back with their order. They had walked the rest of the way in relative silence. Kurt had seemed pleased, but the revelation had started a full-fledged existential meltdown in Blaine.

He was a lost boy. A lost boy? What did that even mean and why did Kurt even take it as an answer. Blaine wasn't lost he was just...well he didn't know what he was, but he wasn't lost. The word was so heavy and had so many connotations with it. He knew who he was and what he was doing, he'd just needed a break from...from...

Blaine sighed, resisting the urge to slam his head into the table. He was lost. He was forgotten and misplaced and now he'd found his way to Neverland so that he would "never grow up."

Awesome.

Ah look, there his Peter Pan came now.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Sorry that took so long," Kurt said with an apologetic smile. He sat down across from Blaine, placing two coffees, a bagel, and a BLT sandwich on the table. "She messed up our order."

Blaine shrugged, trying to not let his internal freak out show. "It's no big."

Kurt smiled even wider and nudged the bagel and one of the coffees towards Blaine. "One toasted cream cheese bagel and a medium drip."

Blaine dragged the plate towards himself, surprised at how hungry he was. Thinking back on it, he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday and with all the walking he'd done he was ravenous. Without preamble, he picked up the bagel and shoved it in his mouth chewing quickly and swallowing before going in for another huge bite.

"Whoa," Kurt said raising his hand in a 'stop' gesture. "Slow down there big boy, you'll make yourself sick."

Blaine paused, looking down at the bagel, looking at Kurt, back to the bagel, before slowly lowering the food away from his face. "Sorry," he said with a slight blush. "It's been a while since I last ate."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I never would have guessed."

Blaine stuck his tongue out at Kurt, who just smiled in return, picking up his sandwich and taking a much more respectable sized bite out of it. They ate together in silence, the only sound between them the 'mm's' and groans of satisfaction.

It wasn't until the last crumb fell that Blaine put his elbows on the table, leaning over it slightly to raise an eyebrow at Kurt.

"You wanted to talk?"

Kurt nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin before folding it neatly and placing it on his plate. "Yes," he started. "I have a proposition for you."

Blaine frowned, suspicion taking over him. "What kind of proposition?"

Kurt shrugged, picking up the Lima Bean coffee mug and holding it to his lips. He took a quick sip before sighing and placing it back on the table and looking Blaine dead in the eye. "I'd like to offer you a place to stay."

Blaine froze, not expecting those to be the words that exited Kurt's mouth. "Umm..." was Blaine's intelligent reply.

"Look," Kurt said, cutting of Blaine's drone. "I know how it must look—"

"Do you?" Blaine questioned, taking his elbows off of the table and leaning back. "It was just yesterday you were telling me not to stay with Mike and his people, why should I stay with you instead?"

Kurt let out a breath. "I know," he started again. "You must think I'm the biggest creep, but trust me when I say they're not good news."

"And you are?"

"At least I don't mean you any harm," Kurt replied taking another sip of his coffee. "I just want to help. I mean, you're lost in a town that doesn't have a motel and you don't know anyone other than me and the gang. We both offered you a place to stay and you have no reason to choose me over them but I'm asking you to consider because I can't stand the thought of you out there on your own for god knows how long."

Blaine smiled a cocky grin, "I never knew you cared."

"I do," Kurt nodded. "I care a lot. My dad and I...we run a home."

Blaine cocked his head putting his hand in his pocket and touching the piece of paper, a movement that was becoming almost calming. "Liza's Home for Lost Boys."

"...Yeah," Kurt said slowly. "How did you know?"

Blaine gaze Kurt a weird look. "You dropped a paper crane on my guitar before you left yesterday," he said.

Kurt shook his head, confusion evident on his face. "No I didn't."

"...Yes you did." Blaine argued. "It was labelled 'For the Traveller' and inside it had that name and an address."

Kurt frowned crossing his arms. "I'm not lying," he said. "Why would I give that to you if I was planning to talk to you about it now?"

Blaine balked at that, knowing that Kurt was right. "So it wasn't you," he said slowly.

"Yes," Kurt verified. "I can't do origami."

"Well that's odd and slightly creepy."

"Quite," Kurt agreed. "And I hope it doesn't turn you off of my offer. At least you know I'm not lying about the place."

Blaine shrugged tapping his hands on the table top. "I honestly don't see any reason why I should say no. You've been nothing but nice to me, and if you do turn out to be a serial killer then I'll just cross that bridge if we get to it."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Wow, what a good plan."

"Oh hush," Blaine fake scolded. "You're not a serial killer."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

Blaine shrugged, offering a sly grin and a wink, "I just know."

Kurt scoffed but didn't argue, sitting up straight and planting his hands on the table. "There are a few things you should probably know before we go."

"Don't enter the west wing?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. "No Belle, luckily for you that's not one of our rules."

Blaine pouted before waving his hand beckoning Kurt to continue. Kurt shook his head before carrying on. "First thing, everyone is expected to pull their weight either in the house or in the community so by the end of the week you'll have a job. Half of your paycheck will go to the house because looking after four— now five— hungry teenagers is pretty expensive. The rest of the money is yours to keep for fun."

"Sounds fair," Blaine nodded.

"I'm glad," Kurt replied. "The second thing is that there is absolutely no bullying allowed. If you and one of the other boys had a disagreement, take it outside because the house functions best as a unit and when everybody is working together. If you deliberately say or do anything with the intention of verbally, physically, or psychologically harming another person it will not be taken lightly."

Blaine's brow furrowed in thought. "You've had this problem before?" he asked cocking his head slightly.

"Yes," Kurt answered honestly. "And since three members of the house are gay, and another is paraplegic I need to be extra careful who I let into the house these days."

Blaine nodded again, offering a small smile. "Well I'm a pretty friendly guy," he offered. "And if it means anything I'm gay too, so you won't get any bigotry from me."

Kurt's lips quirked in a quick smile before it disappeared smothered by his business-like persona. "I'm glad to hear that," he said with a slight head nod. "And the last few things I need to know is do you have any allergies or mental illnesses? Are you on any medications? Are you on any illegal substances and how old are you?"

"Penicillin and kiwi. Not that I know of. No, definitely no, and 16 turning 17 at the end of the summer," Blaine listed off. "Are you going to remember all that?"

Kurt nodded tapping his head. "It's like a sponge."

"Alrighty then," Blaine replied clasping his hands together.

"So you're sure about this?" Kurt asked, cocking his head as his eyes raked over Blaine again, sizing him up just like Mike had. The look was definitely getting old, even from Kurt's impossible eyes.

"Yup," Blaine answered, not balking under the critical stare. "To the home!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, finally breaking the trail his gaze was burning into Blaine's body. "Sure," he answered standing up. "I'm sure everybody will be happy to meet you."

Blaine mimicked the movement and picked up his bags, following Kurt as he led the way out of the caf�. "Who is everybody?" Blaine inquired as an afterthought once they were out on the street. They turned left from the store entrance, and Blaine assumed the home couldn't be too far since the park was fifteen minutes in the other direction and he doubted Kurt would walk too far for a swing.

"Well there are four of us lost boys in total, not including you. Besides me, there's Jeff, he's a sweetheart but he's pretty hyperactive and doesn't filter a thing he says so be careful what you tell him. There's Artie, who's our resident genius and gangster. He's funny, sweet, and compassionate, but don't get on his bad side because he isn't very quick to forgive. Then there's Santana."

"Santana?" Blaine repeated, crinkling his nose at the name. "Isn't that a girl's name."

"Yes," Kurt nodded. "For a very fierce girl."

Blaine shook his head, "I don't get it, I thought this was a home for "Lost Boys.""

"So if you were a girl I shouldn't have helped you?" Kurt questioned giving Blaine a piercing look. "She's an honorary Lost Boy and she has more balls than the rest of us so it's a title she rightly deserves. Consider yourself warned, she's a wild one."

Blaine nodded fiddling with the straps on his guitar case. "You sound like quite the eclectic group."

Kurt shrugged smiling fondly, "Yeah. But we're family."

Blaine smiled, he understood that. His family was pretty eclectic too; between his and Cooper's musical numbers, his parent's bold personalities and the Warblers interfering tendencies, his family was one crazy place.

The thought made him frown.

"Is there a payphone somewhere around here?" he asked glancing around the street that was beginning to show signs of life as the rest of the world woke up.

"Around the next corner," Kurt answered. "Do you want to just use my cell-phone?"

Blaine shook his head. "No I can't have them trace the call."

Kurt frowned at Blaine's response.

The shorter boy laughed at Kurt's confusion bumping his shoulder into Kurt's softly. "No I'm not a drug lord or something, relax. I want to call my parents so they know I'm okay but I don't want them to know where I am."

Kurt nodded, understanding on his features. "Well sure," he said after the nod, "follow me." The duo turned right at the next intersection, and headed to the payphone that looked old, bedraggled, and like it hadn't been used in centuries.

"Need change?" Kurt asked when Blaine put his bag on the floor.

"No I'm good," the hazel-eyed boy responded, tentatively walking towards the payphone. He stared at it like it was a giant ball of mold that he couldn't bring himself to touch. He treaded closer though, until he was inside the glass encasing, but he stopped there, burning a whole into the telephone as if his will alone could set it ablaze.

Kurt watched from the outside, not saying a word as Blaine did what he had to do.

Blaine sighed, letting his head drop. He closed his eyes and picked up the phone, the weight feeling like lead in his hand. Slowly, or quickly, he couldn't really tell anymore—his entire body felt lethargic as if it was moving through molasses—he put in the money and dialed the number, not breathing as he heard the phone ring.

Somebody answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

The voice was sad, tired, and much older than it should have sounded.

Blaine took a shuddered breath.

"Blaine?"

Hope now. And excitement. But it was strained, as if they didn't want to get their hopes up too high for fear of disappointment.

"H-hi." He said shakily, pain flooding through him. This wasn't right. He was so selfish, he shouldn't have done this.

"Blaine!"

Relief flooded through the voice, and happiness, he could practically feel it vibrating through his ear. He smiled sadly, gripping the phone even tighter.

"Hi dad," he said.

"God, Blaine we've been worried sick! Where are you?"

"I...I can't tell you." Blaine swallowed thickly around the sudden lump in his throat.

"What do you mean you can't tell me? Is someone making you say this? Are you okay?" The growing distress in his dad's voice pulled at something in Blaine's chest.

"No, no one's making me say this, dad—"

"Then why can't you tell me where you are!?" Blaine's father interrupted his tone bordering on hysterical.

"Because I don't want you to find me," Blaine said quietly. He looked down to the floor as he said it, his vision blurring as tears threatened to fall. The other side of the line went silent. He couldn't even hear his father's breathing.

God he was an awful person.

"Dad—" he tried.

"Blaine." His father said in the most pleading tone Blaine had ever heard from the man. He squeezed his eyes shut and a tear fell silently down his face. It dropped off his cheek and landed between his feet, staining the ground darker. "I...did we do something? Did something happen? Why don't you want us to find you, son?"

"N-no." Blaine answered shakily, fighting to talk through the sob that threatened to erupt through his throat. "It's nothing you guys did." But that was a lie wasn't it? It was everything they did. Their perfection was stifling, and their expectations choked him until he couldn't breathe. "I just...I need some time away from everything, you know? University applications start in a few months and I just—"

"Is that what you're worried about, son? University? You know you'll be perfect! Your grades are perfection, you'll get into Stanford as easily as your brother and I did. You'll study law and join the firm as a third partner. You don't have anything to be nervous about."

"That's just it!" Blaine said with affirmation, his voice still sounding wretched through his tears. "Are you hearing how perfect that is? Everything is planned, I'll follow in your footsteps and that's it. All Blaine has to do is not fail, I just I can't—"

"Blaine—"

"No." Blaine cut off his father's pleading, his voice unshakable. "I was just calling to let you know I'm okay. Don't try to find me, I'll be back by the end of the summer."

"Blaine, wait!"

"Goodbye."

He hung up. The phone echoed with the force that Blaine had slammed it down with, the reverberations shaking up his arm.

He hung his head and sighed, taking a deep steadying breath as his other hand moved to wipe the tears from his face.

It was done.

He let out a small laugh that sounded hysterical to his own ears.

A firm weight landed on his shoulder and he jumped, looking around to see Kurt touching his shoulder sympathetically.

"Come on," he urged gently, trailing his hand down to his bicep and pulling slightly. "Let's go."

Blaine just nodded, wiping his eyes one more time before leaning into Kurt's touch and letting him lead him out of the small box. Kurt picked up his duffel bag and looped his arm through Blaine's, touching his forehead to Blaine's shoulder before turning them back the way they'd come.