He needed to get to the top, he knew that much. Even though his hands were too small to get a firm grip, he tried his best and pulled himself up branch by branch because once he got there, nothing could touch him. His body burned from the exertion and the palms of his hands stung from his grip on the rough wood, but he kept on pushing and pulling, using his arms his legs his everything.

"Blaaaaaaiine! I was kidding get down here. B! Seriously get down!" He could hear his brother calling him but it didn't matter. Somewhere in the back of his mind he took pride in the slight edge in his brother's playful voice. He was worried. Blaine was small and could easily fall to his death or at the very least a severe maiming. He continued to climb.

"Blaine oh my gosh, if you don't get down here I'm going to get in trouble! I'm supposed to be watching you."

And there it was. Blaine scoffed and climbed faster. His shirt was sticking to his body from sweating so much and the way his jeans rubbed against his skin was uncomfortable and sure to lead to some chaffing but he needed to get to the top. With labored breaths he paused to wipe the sweat off his forehead and push his curls out of his eyes.

"I'm calling mom B, and I'm telling her you're not listening to me! You have to listen to me. She's going to tell you, you have to get down. You're going to get in so much trouble!"

Blaine looked up with a smile as continued to ascend. He was almost there.

He couldn't actually get to the very top since the branches up there wouldn't be able to support the weight of his body but as he carefully sat on the branch he was standing on and looked down and out over his house and his neighborhood. He bit his lip and tilted his head back as the wind gently kissed his sweaty skin. Chills spread all over his body—he felt it.

Down there Blaine was six years old. Down there he was small and easy to push around, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to get anything right.

He made his mom cry today, before he could fix it she briskly left and demanded his brother Cooper keep an eye on him. Sometimes he hated it when Cooper watched him, because sometimes Cooper was mean to him and hurt his feelings.

So he climbed the tree because up here he wasn't small, he wasn't weak. Up here he was victorious. Up here he was strong; after all he made it up the tree hadn't he? Up here it didn't matter that his brother pushed him down beacause he tried to sing with him when he was supposed to be watching, or that his mother frowned when he said things when he didn't even understand why they made her so upset.

He was at the top. He was untouchable.