"...And have you your snowboots, in case it gets cold?"

Kurt Hummel sighed. "Yes mum, but why do I need them? It's barely September!"

"Yes, but we don't know how long this will last," Rose Elizabeth Hummel said somberly, reaching a hand up to grace her son's cheek.

Kurt nodded at how true this was, clutching his ticket firmly in his fingers. Britain had just declared war on Nazi Germany. This meant many changes were going to happen for the English.

Kurt's father, Burton James Hummel, had been drafted into the Royal Air Force as a mechanic. They were always looking for good ones. Kurt was thankful for the thought that his dad was most likely working on planes, rather than marching with a gun on the battlefield.

Ever since the draft, Kurt had spent his nights alone with his mother, sipping tea or sewing some pretty little thing. Besides the occasional air raids, they had eventually gotten acquired to their new lifestyle-

...And now Kurt, age 17, was going to be shipped off to live with some stranger in the countryside.

Alone.

'It's really for the best, dear,' his mother had been saying. 'We need to keep your generation safe, as far away from the war as possible.'

Kurt had begged for countless hours on end for his mother to come too. The thought of her being home, hiding from the air raids all by herself, sounded so sad.

Of course, she couldn't come along.

And now, even though he was still standing next to his mother at the train station, Kurt could feel her slipping away. He glanced down grudgingly at the tag that had been pinned to his lapel.

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, 17, London

So that's what this was? He was just going to be shipped off like a package?

"Mum, I can't go," Kurt said, his voice breaking at the sting of the tears swelling up in his eyes.

Rose almost thought she'd misheard her son, over the sounds of the crowded station. "...What? No, Kurt-"

"No, please, let me stay with you, I'll take care of you, I'll protect you! I'll be fine, I ju-"

Kurt was interrupted by his mother's finger pressing against his lips, willing him to shush.

"Kurt my darling," Rose said, her voice almost breaking the same way Kurt's had. "Listen to me."

Kurt raised his head up to look down at his mother, sniffling a little.

"Kurt, I know this is hard," she said, lowering her voice just slightly. "War is hard. It's meant to break people, tear them into pieces."

Rose clutched Kurt's right hand in her left, letting her free arm wrap up around his neck, rubbing his back calmingly. Kurt let his eyes fall closed and his breath steadyied at the touch.

"You need to promise me that you won't let them break you. You have to stay strong. For me, for your father, for all of London." She pulled Kurt's face even closer to hers, whispering. "I know you want to help out, and that makes me so proud. But the best thing you can do right now is to get away. Be brave, Kurt."

Kurt hesitantly opened his eyes to look down at his mother. She was beautiful, young and wise. They had the same fair skin and bright blue eyes, and her wavy golden-brown hair fell down her back when it wasn't in its usual bun. The thought of Kurt's mother, this true beauty to the world, being alone and unprotected made Kurt's heart clench.

But no, he had to be brave. For his mother. For his father. For all of London.

Kurt let a small smile tickle his lips. "Alright, mum. I will. I'll be brave."

His mother smiled sadly and pulled him in for a hug. Kurt nuzzled his face into her scratchy wool sweater, breathing in her scent.

The sharp whistle of a train broke them apart. Kurt was at a loss for words, just staring down at his leather boots. Rose cupped his chin with her hand and gave him a reassuring smile. "Have courage, right?"

Kurt smiled again, nodding at the ground. "Yeah. Of course, mum."

Rose gave a motherly sigh. "You've grown up so well, Kurt. I love you."

"I love you too."

They smiled at each other once again before Kurt was being pushed towards the train with the crowd. In a flurry of motions, he was nudged in different directions, asked for his ticket, and asked for his name countless times. His mother had shouted blessings in his direction. But Kurt was numb, letting them poke and prod him this way and that. Within the browns and grays of the area, men clad in dress for war were lined up on the other side of the station, clutching guns and supplies in their tired arms.

Once he'd finally made it on the train, Kurt slid into an empty booth and set his luggage next to him on the seat. At first he didn't know where he was, or why he was there.

He absently brought his hand up to scratch behind his ear. He subconsciously breathed in the lingering scent of his mother's perfume on his sleeve-

And it hit him.

Kurt opened his wet eyes to the sound of a knock on the door of his train booth. He watched as the door slid open to reveal a petite girl about his age with brown hair and eyes. She was dressed in a delicate gray-green coat and black hat.

"Is, um...is this booth open?" She asked cautiously, noticing the sorry state of Kurt's eyes, nose, and trembling mouth. "All the other ones are full..."

Kurt sniffed, nodding his head. "Yeah, no, go ahead."

The girl gave a small smile, before scooting into the seat across from Kurt. They sat there for a moment in an awkward silence, before the girl decided to speak up.

"My name is Rachel. Rachel Berry," she said, holding out a hand for Kurt to shake. Despite the tears in his eyes, Kurt shook her hand slowly. "Kurt Hummel," he returned in a small voice.

There was another short silence before Rachel spoke up again, triggered by the boy's constant sniffling and hiccuping.

"Are you alright, Kurt?"

Kurt almost nodded, before reality got the best of him, making him break out into whimpers. Rachel gasped at this, taking the boy into her arms and hugging him tightly. She cooed and shushed, and Kurt didn't think he could be more grateful for her kindness.

"My...my mum...and my dad...and..." He tried to choke out.

"I know, I know," Rachel said. "But...it really is for the best. We'll be safe. Personally, I couldn't be happier."

Kurt, confusedly, lifted his head to look at the girl in front of him, taking in her worried eyes, her tight mouth, her nose-

Oh.

"Y-you're..."

Rachel stared at the ground. "Mhm. I know it might seem...selfish, but I'm very glad that I'm going to be safe from now on."

Kurt shook his head. "No...you're not selfish. What they're doing is wrong."

Rachel nodded, and Kurt immediately felt guilty.

"Have I seen you around London before?" He asked, trying to strike up conversation.

"My father's a tailor. I live...lived in Finchley."

Kurt let a genuine smile grace his face. "I've met you before. We were ten, maybe eleven, and my mother ordered a dress from your father when we were in town."

Rachel looked up at Kurt. "Really?"

"Yes," Kurt smiled even wider. "It was a lovely thing, purple with a frilly lace."

Rachel smiled. "Yes. Yes, I remember. My father worked on that for weeks non-stop, saying it was for a beautiful lady."

Kurt nodded, and the two smiled at each other for a good while before a voice broke the silence.

"Um, hello?"

Rachel and Kurt looked up to see a tall, medium-built boy about their age at the door of the booth.

"Can...can we sit here?" He said, gesturing to himself and a slightly smaller blonde boy next to him. "We had seats, but the other chaps started crying..."

Rachel smiled, waving them in.

The tall, brown-haired boy sat next to Rachel, while the blonde boy sat next to Kurt. The whole booth was silent until the brown-haired boy reached his hand out at Kurt.

"I'm Finnegan Hudson, but they call me-"

"-Finn." Kurt interrupted. "I know who you are. You worked for my father two summers ago."

Finn looked confused before it dawned on him. "Right, you're Burt- uh, Mr. Hummel's son!"

Kurt nodded. "Kurt," he shook Finn's hand. "And this is Rachel," he gestured across to her.

Finn nodded, smiling shyly at a blushing Rachel.

"This is...Sam?" Finn attempted, pointing at the blonde boy, who nodded.

"Samuel Ray Evans," he said. "But you can call me Sam."

"Where are you from, Sam?" Rachel asked.

"Liverpool." Sam answered quietly.

"That's far away," Kurt said.

Sam just nodded, staring out the window.

The conversation mostly ended there, but it started up just as quickly. Everyone had their own stories to tell. Finn's father died when he was a baby, and was living with only his mom for as long as he could remember. He'd traveled around doing jobs to earn money for him and his mother, one of them helping Kurt's father in his repair shop. Leaving his mother was even more troubling than Kurt's situation, since now Finn's mother now had to provide for herself. But she knew it was best for him. Sam talked much less, but revealed that his family was poor. Kurt decided not to press on, and instead switch seats with Sam so he could stare out the window more easily. Throughout the conversations, Kurt found himself adjusting more and more, and smiling wider and wider.

"So," Rachel started after they'd consumed their lunch of the day. "Where are you guys staying?"

Finn looked confused before he noticed everyone checking their tags, and decided to do the same.

"Uh...Wood...bridge. Woodbridge? With...Dr. Anderson."

"Same as me," Sam piped up, before taking another bite of the sandwich Rachel had given him.

"And me as well," Rachel said, looking slightly confused.

"And me..." Kurt said, reading it over to make sure he was right.

"Can they do that?" Rachel asked. "I thought it was one family per house?"

Sam shrugged. "I suppose so."

"We are in a war, after all," Kurt muttered, tiredly rubbing his temple with his fingers.

The train came to a jerking halt, stirring the boys from their attempt at a little sleep.

"Kurt! Kurt, this is where we get off!" Rachel urged, shaking his shoulder.

Kurt rubbed his eyes as he noticed Finn and Sam stirring as well. He immediately got up and gathered his posessions, Sam doing the same. Finn, however, refused to wake.

"Finn! They're not going to wait forever!" Rachel insisted.

But Finn still didn't stir. Rachel rolled her eyes and pulled the cap off Finn's head, smacking him firmly over the head with it.

"Oi!" He screamed, getting up almost instantly. "Blimey!"

Rachel gave a smug smile before pulling him along, following Kurt and Sam down the length of the train and into the open air. Once the four were completely off, they watched as the train sped off, leaving them standing there in the field, clutching their bags with anticipation.

"Well, are you gonna stand and stare, or are we gonna get on with this?" Asked a distinguished voice with an Irish brogue.

The four whirled around to see a middle-aged woman smiling tightly at them, arms folded across her chest. Beside her was a carriage pulled by two stark-white horses.

Rachel glanced at her friends before stepping before the woman. "Doc...Doctor Anderson?"

The woman gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, that's where we're headed. No, I'm just the housekeeper. The name's Ruth Abbot."

Kurt smiled and stepped forward, shaking Ms. Abbot's hand and introducing himself. The others soon followed suit, and piled into the carriage before heading off down the path.

Kurt was completely in awe of the English countryside. He'd only traveled once before, to Oxford for his aunt's wedding. The greenery and lush, rolling hills were of such beauty, and the fresh air, clean of the smog that was often lurking around London, was sweet and clear. As Ms. Abbot continued with her lecture, all four of the evacuees were barely paying attention, instead taking in the bright colors of the country, and feeling at ease for that short while.

"...And here we are!" Ms. Abbot called as the carraige came to a halt.

The four perked their tired heads up to see the grounds before them. Among lush green grass, flowers, and an array of evergreen and willow trees, was an enormous brick house, with tall windows and white curtains. It had to be at least three stories tall, and at least twenty times larger than the small house Kurt's family occupied in London.

Twenty times lovelier, too.

"Alright, come on then!" Ms. Abbot exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "You must be hungry, eh?"

The four broke out of their almost sure trance, and followed Ms. Abbot towards the front door, dragging their suitcases behind. She threw the front door open, and Kurt gasped at the sight before him.

Now, Kurt thought the outside of the mansion was gorgeous, but the inside...with white drapes, high ceilings, crystal chandelier, soft couches, paintings covering the walls...

"Oh, what perfect timing!" Ms. Abbot called. The others turned in her direction to see an African woman and what looked to be her daughter standing in the doorway to the kitchen, holding pies and smiling broadly.

"This," Ms. Abbot said, resting a hand on the shoulder of the mother, "is Agnes Jones. She's our cook and takes care of much of the housework. And this," she rested her free hand on the shoulder of the daughter, "is Agnes's daughter, Mercedes. She helps around, too."

Mercedes smiled broadly, holding the pie up to Kurt's face. "Hope you like cherry." Kurt breathed in the scent and let it linger in his sinuses.

"Welcome, children!"

Kurt and the others turned to see a medium-built gentleman standing before them on the staircase. His hair must have been dark once, but had gotten lighter with age. He had his arm around a small woman, whose years had evidently been very kind to her, what with her deep-brown locks and pure skin and lovely green-brown eyes.

"Harold, you can't call them children," the woman raised an amused eyebrow to her husband. "Look at how mature and polite they are!"

"Nonetheless, they're just as welcome," he smiled back, before walking towards the "children."

"I'm Dr. Harold Paul Anderson, man of the house," he smiled. "This is my wife, Evelyn Grace Anderson."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Rachel smiled boldly. "I'm Rachel Berry."

"I-I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel," Kurt returned timidly.

"I'm Finnegan...Hudson," Finn said, looking around the big house.

"I'm Sam Evans," Sam added, letting his eyes linger around the floor.

"Nice to meet you Rachel, Sam, Kurt and Finn! Then again, I suppose it's only customary, considering we'll all be living together." He took a step towards the group. "And let me say, I truly hope you enjoy your stay here. Most families are only taking in one family, but Eve and I thought we might as well offer up our services, considering our only residents are us, our staff, and our son."

"...Where is that son of ours, anyway?" Eve questioned, looking down the hall.

"I'm coming!" Yelled a voice from upstairs.

"Hurry please, the guests are here!" Eve called.

"Oh right, sorry mum!"

"It's alright, just get down here!"

Kurt felt a little confused, when, after some stomping, a figure appeared at the foot of the stairs. In a light-blue button-up and black slacks, stood a boy of about 172 centimeters, with tamed, black curls. His skin was slightly tanned, and he had the same build as his father. And he had the most gorgeous green-brown eyes, just like his mother, and he had the most gorgeous smile...

Kurt could not believe his eyes. He didn't know what he was feeling, but he knew that he just could not take his eyes off the boy in front of him, as strange as that may seem.

Said boy approached Kurt, mouth gaping awkwardly. He quickly shook his head, and pasted a smile onto his face, offering his hand out for Kurt to shake.

"My name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson. But...Blaine."

Kurt furrowed his brow as he shook the Blaine's hand, still trying to figure out what was happening.

"...Are you alright, chap?" Blaine asked, teasingly cocking an eyebrow.

Kurt pulled himself together, chuckling nervously. "Sorry. I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

"It's alright. Pleasure to meet you, Kurt Hummel." Blaine smiled broadly, standing next to his mother and father.

"And yes, this is our son, Blaine Everett Anderson," Eve said proudly.

"Mum..." Blaine muttered, obviously annoyed with the mention of his middle name.

"Wait...why weren't you drafted?" Kurt suddenly wondered, looking up at Harold."Not to be insensitive," he added quickly, "just..."

Harold gave a hearty laugh and held out his hands. Kurt and the others took a closer look to see that his fingers were the slightest bit crooked, and his joints were inflamed.

"Arthritis." He said simply, with a small smile. "Not that it keeps me from living my life much less." He dropped his hands back to his sides. "Although, one thing I miss the most is the guitar. I'd play for hours on end."

Eve chuckled, leaning her head onto her husband's shoulder. "Probably one of the leading causes."

"Well, at least it doesn't keep the music out of our house! I taught Blaine how to play when he was five! Got a natural ear for music, just like his father, I say!"

Blaine's mother grinned. "Yes, Blaine darling, why don't you play guitar for them sometime?"

"...Right now?"

"No, of course not!" She turned to the four pitiful figures in the room. "You must be starving, and exhausted, I'm sure. Come, Agnes has prepared something."

"Oh yes I have," Agnes smiled as she lead everyone into the dining room.

Everyone in the house ate a hearty dinner of greens, lamb stew and salad. Though they made sure to show their thanks, Kurt, Rachel, Finn and Sam didn't really talk much throughout the entire meal. Harold decided not to ask further, knowing how painful it was to have loved ones go out into the war. So after their quiet meal and a lovely dessert of cherry pie, Mercedes and her mother helped Rachel get settled, and Blaine led Finn, Sam, and Kurt to their respective rooms.

"So it's Finnegan?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah...but most just call me Finn." Finn said as he lugged his trunk up the stairs.

"Ah. Alright. Well, there's your room, down on the right," Blaine pointed down the hall. "Do you need any help?"

"-No, um..." Finn started, awkwardly heading towards the door. "No, I'd really rather just...Goodnight." He muttered as he slipped into his room, shutting the door behind him. Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion, before thinking it best to just shrug it off and help Sam get to his room next.

"Sam, I think my mother put you in the room down here...ah, yes," he smiled, pushing the door open. Sam muttered what sounded to be "ta," and shuffled into the room, closing the door behind him as well.

Blaine scrunched his face up in what seemed to be a mix of confusion and mostly sympathy. Shrugging, he turned around to-

-Oh right, Kurt.

Blaine wasn't sure about this boy Kurt...he was quiet, reserved. But there was something about him...that was still all in one piece. His powerful blue eyes were still strong and so captivating, it was quite intriguing. Blaine knew he had to at least get to know Kurt.

He walked up to Kurt, who had his head down, clutching his trunk tightly.

"Hiya," Blaine smiled.

Kurt gave a brief smile in return. "H'lo..."

"So...how was the train?" Blaine asked, hoping Kurt wouldn't close up on him like Finn and Sam had.

Kurt shrugged as they walked on down the hall. "Alright, I suppose."

Blaine nodded and there was another awkward silence between them.

"So...how's London?" Blaine asked, trying to start up the conversation.

...How's London?

Kurt stopped in his tracks, turning to Blaine with powerful eyes.

"It's being bombed to bits as we speak, how do you reckon that one out?" He snapped, glaring down at the slightly shorter boy beside him.

"Oi!" Blaine exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear!"

"Well, what else do you expect me to say?" Kurt continued. "It's only the truth!"

"Cor, Kurt, I really only meant...I meant...before this."

And there it was. Kurt closed up, turning away from Blaine and retreating down the hall.

Blaine stood there, feeling defeated for a moment, before catching up to Kurt.

"Kurt, please," he said, grabbing Kurt gently by the forearm. But before Blaine could continue, Kurt interjected.

"Will you please show me to my room? And then kindly clear off?" Kurt asked, not looking towards Blaine. Kurt knew he seemed brash, but what people thought of him didn't really matter right now. Right now, he just wanted the world to go away.

Blaine furrowed his brow, feeling hurt. "Alright...here we go." Blaine walked a few steps forward, coming to a door on his right, turning the handle, and pushing it open.

Kurt stepped into the room, and if he weren't so emotionally challenged at the moment, he'd take in it all. The soft, white linens, the scent of lilacs that was lingering in the air ever-so-slightly, the fresh clothes sitting at the foot of the plush bed.

"My mum laid out some fresh sheets and clothes," Blaine said. "It tends to get colder at night."

Kurt sighed, glancing at Blaine only slightly in acknowledgence. "Thank you."

Blaine nodded, his expression droll. "Of course. See you in the morning."

With that, Blaine turned out the door, closing it behind him, and walked towards his own room, at the end of the hall.

Kurt stood there for a moment as he listened to Blaine's retreating footsteps.

When Kurt heard nothing but silence, he finally got his mind in order, proceeding to strip out of the clothes he'd worn all day. In his underwear, he looked between the soft, cotton pajamas Mrs. Anderson had set out for him, and the worn, holey ones he'd brought along with him.

Spending a good five minutes debating between physical comfort and emotional comfort in the pieces of nightwear, Kurt decided to just crawl between the sheets in his underwear. He didn't care anymore. He couldn't if he tried, thinking was impossible at the moment. He blew out his candle and lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling.

Kurt swallowed, that numb feeling overpowering him again as he closed his eyes, waiting for that sleepy feeling.

...Which he'd almost entirely achieved after a few hours, when the crash of thunder brought reality back, hitting him straight-on like a train.

What if father gets killed at war?

What if mother is forced to live alone?

What if London is bombed to pieces?

What if they decide to bomb the countryside?

What if we lose the war? Or worse...

What if this war...

Never.

Ends.

Kurt abruptly sat up, his mouth dry and gasping for air.

Once he'd caught his breath, he scanned his surroundings, remembering where he was. He glanced over to see that he'd left his window open, the cold night air hitting his face and arms with clinging force.

Kurt tried to move to close the window, but found himself unable to do so, slumping as the reality of war kept hitting him repeatedly.

He'd felt the numb phase, not being able to feel anything. Denial.

Now it was phase two: feeling just about everything, but not being able to do shit's worth of anything about it. He couldn't fight the Nazis with the men. He couldn't comfort and protect the women left alone in London, having to fend for themselves in this dark, drab world.

He was a child. Useless.

Another cold breeze came in through the window, and Kurt felt himself falling apart agian. No, don't do it, grow up, be brave, Kurt kept telling himself, trying to do as his mother had wished. But he couldn't help himself as he crumbled to pieces, letting the tears fall down his face a freely as they wished. He wanted his home. He missed his scratchy, worn sheets and the homey scent they bore. He wanted his dad and his mum, and oh Lord, he just wanted this all to end.

In an act of desperate thirst, Kurt finally found himself getting up, out of bed, and threw on the soft pajamas. He stepped into the slippers he found by the bed, and stepped into the hall as silently as he could. In the frightening darkness, cringing at the occasionaly strikes of lightning, he blindly made his way up the hall, down the stairs, and was just about to turn down the hall when-

BAM!

Kurt stumbled into a figure, both of them screaming at the contact. He lost his balance and fell to the ground, sitting there and trembling.

"Are you alright there?" The figure asked.

Instead of answering, Kurt found himself whimpering again. Oh God, it's dark, it's cold, what's happening?

He heard the figure give a murmur of sympathy, before they wrapped their arms around him, cooing.

"Shhh, it's me, Mercedes."

Kurt steadied his breathing, looking into the darkness where he was sure Mercedes's face could be found. "Oh...h-hello Mercedes."

"Couldn't sleep?"

Kurt shook his head furiously, and Mercedes helped pull him up.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know how bad it is. My father died whe-"

"-My parents aren't dead," Kurt quickly said. "I just..."

As he trailed off, Mercedes reached over to light a paraffin lamp sitting on the table beside them. In the new light, Kurt could see Mercedes's face clearly, her brown skin glowing and empathetic expression clear as day.

"I couldn't sleep either. Would you like some tea?"

Kurt found himself nodding and smiling at her kindness. "Please."

Mercedes smiled and lead Kurt down the hallway. They entered the dining room to see Rachel sitting at the table, sobbing fiercely. Finn and Blaine were sitting on either side of her, cooing and shushing as best they could. Sam was sitting next to Finn, said boys' eyes red and puffy. All four of them were sopping wet, especially Rachel.

Blaine looked up to Mercedes and Kurt from where he was comforting the small girl.

"Oh, hello Mercedes," he smiled lightly. He turned to Kurt and his expression became guilty. "H'lo, Kurt," he said in a small voice.

Kurt looked down. "Hello."

Mercedes looked between the two questioningly, before addressing the matter at hand. "What happened?" She asked Finn, pointing at Rachel.

Finn rubbed his face with his sleeve, sniffling. He was about to answer, when Rachel cut in, hiccuping between words.

"I-I tried to sleep, b-but I could b-barely have a k-kip...I c-couldn't get it off-f my m-mind, what they're d-doing, w-what's going to h-happen to my f-father when they f-find him,"

She trailed off again, sobbing into her hands, and everyone saw how fragile Rachel really was. Yes, sure, she was safe here in the countryside. But her quite obvious Jewish heritage was what the Nazis were looking for, and her father...

Kurt felt a chill through his spine. He thought Rachel to be optimistic and naïve, when really she was trying to mask the thought that her family was targeted in this war. She would be lucky for any of her relatives to be alive when this was all over. Kurt thought this was sick, that people would be killed for the way they were born.

...And then there's that feeling again. That helpless, worthless feeling.

"Sam came into my room...neither of us could sleep," Finn explained. "We started talking about home..." Finn's voice cracked a little on that last word. "And then we heard Rachel crying out on the balcony."

Rachel wailed and Kurt could see everyone take a shaky breath.

"I-I woke up," Blaine continued. "And heard them on the balcony. I stepped out, and they were trying to pull Rachel back inside. But she kept...refusing, I guess."

"Th-the rain smelled like h-home..." Rachel added.

Blaine sighed. "I legged it over and helped them pull her out of the rain. I told Finn and Sam to take her downstairs while I ran upstairs to tell my parents to just go back to sleep. And...here we are."

The group stayed silent for a moment, when Mercedes broke the tension.

"Well, I think this calls for some tea, hm?" She asked, clapping her hands together and wearing a small smile. "Oh, and look at you! You're freezing!" She said, addressing the four sopping wet, shivering figures before her. "Here, I'll put the water on, and then I'll go fetch you some towels."

"Thank you, Mercedes," Blaine smiled graciously.

"Of course." She returned with a smile. "Kurt, would you mind helping me out?"

"O-oh, of course not," Kurt replied, following Mercedes as she put a pot on the stove to boil water. After that simple task was done, she led him upstairs to the closet to get some fresh towels.

"So, where do you hail from, Kurt?" Mercedes asked after they'd passed out the towels.

Kurt kept his head down, looking at the boiling tea water. "London."

Mercedes looked up. "London, eh? Care to be more specific?"

Kurt chuckled a little. "Wandsworth. The dodgy end."

"Dodgy?" Mercedes raised an eyebrow.

"Quite."

Mercedes chuckled along, and Kurt found himself warming up already.

The two chatted and poured the tea when it was ready, joining the others who were sitting in the floor in the middle of the living room, in conversation and quite possibly laughing a little. Kurt sat himself in one of the nearby armchairs, still not feeling very social. He sipped his tea slowly, letting the warmth slosh around his mouth until it lost most of its heat, before taking another sip. The others finished long before he did, and began to head up to bed. Kurt insisted that no, he'd be up soon. He was just finishing his tea first. They all said their goodnights, and Kurt sat in the armchair, staring into his diminishing cup of tea in a trance.

"Hey, Kurt?"

Kurt looked up to see Blaine standing timidly before him, clutching his teacup in his hands. Kurt was still somewhat brassed off with Blaine for some reason, but decided to address him anyways.

"Yes, Blaine?"

Blaine shuffled nervously. "I-I...I just wanted to genuinely apologize for earlier...It was insensitive of me to talk like that..."

Blaine lowered himself so he was level with Kurt. "I've always lived here, Kurt. All my family. For generations. We're sheltered here. I've never had to go through what you have to. Or Finn, Sam and Rachel, for that matter. I...I just hope you can forgive me for being such a git earlier."

Kurt looked straight forward into this boy's eyes, sensing complete truth. He was taken aback by how much talking with Finn, Rachel, and Sam must have opened his mind. This boy had probably never seen a house become half-demolished during an air raid (which Kurt had seen too many of.) It really wasn't his fault he was so ignorant about the outside world.

Kurt suddenly felt a sense of guilt.

"No...I mean, yes, I forgive you, but...I was a right git as well," Kurt said with a shrug. "I'm sorry. Can't we just agree that we're both complete gits and call it even?"

The boys shared a look before breaking into a much-awaited, hearty laugh.

"Well," Blaine started, glancing at the clock, which now read 3:09. He stood up. "I should get some sleep. And if I didn't know better, I'd say you need sleep too."

Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling. "I suppose so."

Blaine chuckled once again. "May I?" He offered, pointing to Kurt's empty cup.

Kurt smiled, letting Blaine take his cup to set in the sink. The two walked up the stairs, pausing in front of Kurt's door.

"Well...I suppose this is where we depart." Blaine said.

"I suppose..." Kurt returned.

"So," Blaine started, "I feel as though I should at least try to keep you entertained while you're here. How do you feel about a tour of the area tomorrow?"

Kurt smiled. "I'd be honored. The countryside really is beautiful."

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "It really is."

"So..." Blaine started again after a short pause. "I'll see you in the morning."

Kurt nodded, not really wanting Blaine to leave, for some reason. "In the morning."

Blaine nodded once more before heading down the hall to his own room. Once he was out of eyeshot, Kurt closed the door and made his way to his bed, crawling under the soft covers.

Kurt stared at the ceiling, yet again waiting for that sleepy feeling. But this time, more cheerful thoughts were running through his head. Like the fact that these five people (mostly Rachel, Blaine, and Mercedes) had actually made him genuinely smile since he'd left the station. Or the fact that he was overly-eager to make friends with said five chaps.

Or the fact that, especially after that talk with Blaine...

Kurt realized the reason he was here, in the remote countryside.

He felt completely and utterly safe.