July 8th, 1916 - Bromley, United Kingdom

Blaine was eighteen when he joined the army. He was fresh faced and eager, if a little naïve, as he observed the growing line of giddy, bright-eyed soldiers. They were just as young and brimming with enthusiasm as him, making the crowd itself seem to jitter. They were all ungodly loud, laughing and smacking each other in the arms. Blaine wanted to be with them, his body humming with this addictive elation that called to everyone in possession of a Y-chromosome but the weak whimpers that escaped his mother kept him in place. For a brief moment he felt resentment towards her and that pathetic sensation that seemed to follow her, clinging thickly to everything that got too close.

His mother's face was skinny, almost haggard; her skin paper thin and white but tightly pulled over her high cheek bones and pointed jaw. At one point it would have been appropriate to say that she had been attractive, with her dark, glossy hair and washed-out blue eyes but now she just looked tired and splotchy under the heat and humidity of the summer sun. She flashed him a tightly-pressed and watery smile, her thin, cracked lips almost disappearing altogether. Blaine rolled his eyes but obediently allowed her to fix the collar of his freshly pressed uniform once again. The combination of the direct light of the sun and the chaffing that came from the rough pull of the stiff, foreign material had caused Blaine's neck to turn a bright shade of red.

"Oh Blaine, sweetheart, you will be careful, right?"

She wasn't really looking for a response, just throwing the sentiment out in order to comfort herself over the decisions being made by her two boys.

His mother's pale hands moved down to smooth out the lapels and straighten the buttons of his coat, much to his frustration. Blaine's eyes moved back to the vibrating mass of bodies, while she started to mutter quietly, trying to straighten his regimental pin. It was embarrassing to have her fuss over him, especially in public, at a moment like this, where he's supposed to be trying to reaffirm his male status.

Cooper was standing next to their father, a smirk plucking at his thin lips as he watched a cluster of attractive girls saunter by. The girls giggled behind their hands as they watched all the boys trying to impress them with their new colours. They paused momentarily to look Cooper up and down and then once again dissolved into fits of giggles.

Their father, an older man, wrinkled and weathered from a hard life of manual labour, was grinning. Something akin to pride shined in his dark eyes, which were half hidden by his thick eyebrows. He reached up a calloused hand to pat his oldest son's shoulder. Cooper smiled wide enough to show off his straight teeth, which were only slightly tobacco stained, basking in the attention being placed on him. Blaine watched Cooper turn to their father, and mutter an answer to something he'd been asked. Their father chuckled and patted his arm once again.

"Come on now, woman. You coddle the boy too much!" The senior Anderson called. His voice was gruff and abrupt.

William Anderson was not someone who would have been considered nice, even when in the best of his moods. Rather his gnarled form, though still considerably tall, seemed to fit his personality quite well. The woman stopped clutching at her youngest boy's shoulders immediately. She flashed another watery smile before reaching up one last time to smooth down a stray curl, that hadn't been slicked down by the heavy dose of product he had used that morning. Blaine stepped back, his new heavy boots crushing tiny pebbles underfoot, as he pushed her arm away with a very dry look. He really hated when people touched his hair, after all it had taken him almost an hour to get it this way.

The expression that crossed his mother's face made Blaine instantly regret his actions. She pulled back lowering her gaze to where she was clutching her skeletal hands against her chest, as if he had actually smacked them away, while her thin shoulders quivered slightly. A rush of white hot guilt settled low in his stomach. He reached out, arm's wide, and pulled her into a quick, tight embrace. He pressed his cheek against the side of her head, taking in the last of the hint of the smell of home.

"I'll be fine, mother. You shouldn't worry so much," He whispered, and finally pulled back letting his hands fall so he could lightly hold her knobby elbows. "We'll be back before you know it."

She sniffed, nodding to the statement but not looking up at her son, rather she continued to stare down at her clasped hands. He squeezed her arms once more before letting them drop completely to his sides.

"Yeah. That's if they don't finish up before we get there." Cooper chuckled, and walked forward as if to throw an arm around his brother's shoulders, but instead pulled him tight to his side in a loose head lock looking not even the slightest bit perturbed of his younger sibling's flailing limbs.

"That's right. My boy's going to end this war. Take out all those Huns himself." Their father boosted, leaning back on his heels and shoving his large hands into the frayed pockets of his trousers. His eyes still rested on his eldest son; his pride and joy. Blaine rolled his eyes, lips pressed tight as he finally succeeded in throwing his brother's arm off. Cooper's smile lessened.

"Well not only me. Blaine's going to take a few out too. Got my back, right, little brother?"

His response was a loud snort. Blaine straightened himself out. Tugging on the ends of his coat, Blaine purposely avoided having to look at the disappointed expression on his father's face. He didn't need to see it; he could feel the heavy weight settle on his shoulders.

"You will take care of him." Their mother broke the thick silence.

She moved in again. Only this time she had reached up to cup Cooper's squared jaw. Blaine bit back a scathing remark about not being a child and needing a nanny. There really was no point in upsetting her even more then he already had.

"Of course. They won't be able to pry me off of this ugly sucker." Cooper laughed at his own joke having thrown his arm around Blaine again. He had leaned down to press a light kiss against their mother's cheek.

"Be careful." She whimpered.

May 14th 1917 - Düsseldorf, Germany

As Kurt walked out of the bakery a warm summer breeze hit his face. The shops were busy with their many patrons, mostly women and children. The few men that wandered the streets wore the stone gray uniforms of the German Army. They looked dashing in their dress uniforms; the well-tailored gray pants and jacket fit snuggly showing off the men's strong builds. The jacket's red piping at the buttons and sleeves brought a sense of regency to the whole ensemble. It would only be a matter of days until Kurt would be lucky enough to finally wear the uniform himself.

He wandered up the street in the direction of his father's shop, determined to make him take a break. Kurt had noticed that his father had become more tired as the war dragged on. It was caused partly by his protective nature and partly by his annoyance that "the damn war is taking too long!" Kurt just wanted things to calm so that his father could relax. Naturally Kurt had taken it upon himself to ensure that his father didn't overwork himself with all of the machines that he was being forced to fix. However, as he soon turned eighteen the job would have to be handed off to one of his sisters. At eighteen, he was required to join the military and he had no intention of refusing.

Lost in thought, Kurt didn't notice that he was being corralled by a few boys not much older than himself. It wasn't until he walked right into one of the taller boys that it dawned on him what was happening. Seconds later, the one he'd walked into had spun him around and grabbed his arms and covered his mouth, as another grabbed his legs. They moved him quickly into an alley, in which another two boys waited looking at Kurt menacingly. The boy holding Kurt's legs dropped them to the ground and moved to join the others, while the last boy continued holding Kurt tightly.

"Well if it isn't Lady Hummel," one smirked "It's been a while since we've seen you. Why is that Hummel? You avoiding us or something?"

Kurt avoided their eyes; he always avoided their eyes. Truthfully, he had been avoiding them altogether. As soon as he caught any trace of them, he would change his direction. He was even willing to walk a much longer distance to get to his destination. It was worth it to not be injured.

Kurt had always hoped that his days of being harassed were over once he was done with his schooling, but, god, he was so wrong. If anything, now that he was no longer under the watchful eye of the teachers, the abuse had gotten worse. They would corner him when he was alone no matter the time of day, push him around and rough him up a bit.

Kurt hated that he was stupid enough to get distracted. He knew that this abuse would never stop. As if they read his mind, one of them punched him hard in the gut, taking Kurt's breath away.

"Are you listening, schwanzlutscher?" he yelled right into Kurt's ear causing him to flinch. "Or do I need to remind you that hinterlader, like you need to listen when the real men talk!"

He emphasized his point by punching Kurt in the gut again, causing a groan to escape Kurt's lips and his legs to buckle from the pain. Kurt let the Neanderthal that was keeping him from escaping hold him up and let his body go limp.

Kurt hated felling weak like this, but he knew that if he tried to fight back things would only get worse. So he let them call him names and hit him, hoping they would soon get bored. Then he could curl up in a ball until the pain subsided, and go home and sleep it off.

"To think you're going to be soldier soon," another boy said "you won't even make it five minutes out in the trenches."

"Forget five minutes, he won't last two" another said, as his companions laughed.

It was then that the one holding him spoke, "Not that it's any loss to us; it just means there's one less tunte polluting our streets." Kurt heard the rest of them laugh, but he hung his head and did his best to ignore the poisonous words around him.

Kurt's head was jerked up suddenly, as his eyes zeroed in on the fist that was going to hit him again. In preparation for the hit Kurt closed his eyes, and waited for the pain.

"HEY!"

It happened faster than Kurt could even comprehend; he was suddenly dropped to the ground, he closed his eyes and curled up into a tight ball. He heard the boys run, and before he knew it his savior was at his side assessing the damage, hands moving carefully over Kurt's torso.

"How many times have I told you that you need to tell me when you are going out?"

Sighing, Kurt opened his eyes to find his oldest and dearest friend looking at him with concern in his deep hazel eyes.

"Seriously, Noah, I don't need you to protect me, we aren't in school anymore."

"It shouldn't matter." Noah said, "Your still my best friend, and I am dating your sister; we are basically family."

"Okay, first, we are not family until you marry Lena and second, I really don't need a babysitter, I'll be eighteen in less than a two weeks, and when that happens I'll be joining the army so all of this will stop."

Noah looked at Kurt, eyes wide with disbelief. "Do you really think those arschlöcher will stop just because you become a soldier? If anything, it gives them a reason to beat you up and not get in shit for doing it!"

Kurt glared at Noah, his anger growing not only because of the pain in his stomach but also because Kurt was terrified that Noah was right.

"You okay to walk?" Noah asked. Kurt nodded, feeling too winded to speak and let Noah pull him up.

Taking a few steps, Noah stopped and gathered the parcels Kurt had dropped while still being careful to keep Kurt steady. The two of them walked in silence towards the family shop. The only sounds coming from their careful footfalls on the cobbled street.

When the shop was finally in view Kurt glanced up at Noah and noticed his brows were drawn together in thought. Kurt couldn't help but smile. Noah really was the nicest friend that anyone could ask for; he had always stood up for Kurt and they had an amazing understanding of each other. For instance, Kurt's sexuality was a topic that the two of them never mentioned outside of the house, but behind closed doors Noah would tease Kurt for hours about the boys they may have seen that day and how Kurt should make a move.

Noah was Kurt's oldest friend; they had grown up together. According to Kurt's father, after Mr. Puckerman left his young family, his wife and two small children were left with nowhere to live and no money to their name. The family wandered the streets for weeks looking for a place that would let them stay. It was a rainy September day when they took refuge under the awning of the shop. It was this day that the Puckerman family moved into the downstairs apartment. Mrs. Puckerman would pay rent in the form of cooking meals and helping care for Burt Hummel's three children. It was from that day onward that both Kurt and Noah became the best of friends, the two of them very thankful that they were no longer the only boy in their respective families.

"Thanks, Noah." Kurt muttered as they finally reached their destination.

Noah was snapped from his thoughts and as he looked at Kurt, a smile bloomed on his face, "Don't worry about it, you would have done the same for me."

Kurt snorted, "Oh yeah, because I have the same alarmingly terrifying presence that you have to chase away those idiots."

"Don't worry; we'll work on that when we get you home." Noah chuckled.

When they reached the shop Noah reached out to grab the handle but before he could pull the door open a loud crash came from inside. Glancing quickly at one another they rushed inside as quickly as the two of them could with Noah still supporting the majority of Kurt's weight. As they moved into the open area of the cluttered shop, they saw the unmoving form of Burt Hummel lying on the stone floor.

July 8th, 1916 - Bromley, United Kingdom

"Be careful."

Those had been the last words their mother had whimpered before they pulled away. Cooper practically dragged his brother towards the mass of new recruits. He had paused momentarily, yanking Blaine to an abrupt stop that resulted in a choked gasp, in order to let another group of flighty girls drift past. He flashed them one of those infamous Anderson smiles. They giggled and continued on their way.

When they had gotten close enough to their new comrades and far enough from their parents prying eyes, Cooper pulled them to another stop, letting his heavy arm drop. Secretly Blaine already missed the weighty warm feeling.

"I got you something." Cooper's gaze shifted about the crowd before he reached inside of his spotless coat and pulled out a thin rectangular book. It was shiny brown, oil skinned, with no real telling features and thin flap of skin that reached around to hold it shut. Blaine could only give him a confused look.

"What is it, Coop?"

The elder rolled his eyes as if to say 'my brother's a giant dolt', shoving the book into the younger's outstretched hands. Blaine took it, looking it over quickly, running his fingers across its smooth surface before opening it and facing the first blank page.

"It's a journal." Blaine stated, turning it over again.

Cooper huffed in that way that automatically told Blaine he had just said something extremely stupid. It was odd hearing it coming from Cooper; usually it was Blaine who did it. In fact he had it so perfected that it had become second nature. He didn't say anything about it though; instead he looked up at his brother.

"But -" He started, before being cut off by a wave of Cooper's hand. There was a strange expression on his brother's face. It scared him. It looked too solemn and sad to belong there.

"I know dad thinks your writings are silly ... but ... just don't give up on them. You're good. Really, really good, you just never give yourself enough credit." Cooper sounded dry. Blaine watched him turn away and swallow thickly. "I just thought that you could use it while we're over there."

Blaine never thought of himself as being overly sentimental, but his fingers tightened around the notebook and he pulled it close to his chest. He was afraid that he might cry. Instead Cooper turned back and smiled having reached out to dig his fingers into the slick mass of Blaine's curly, dark hair ruffling it with a loud cackle.

The chase that ensued was quite humorous. Boy's jostling them into their fold, laughing and urging Blaine on in his quest for retribution, some going as far as stepping out and trying to detain the older Anderson. They were all a hub of eager energy and romantic notions.

They were all so fucked.

August 10th 1917 - Düsseldorf, Germany

"Will you stop fussing over me already?" Burt Hummel grumbled.

"Dad you had a heart attack!" Kurt exclaimed, "You need to rest and let us take care of everything. Noah is doing an excellent job watching over the shop. You have nothing to worry about."

"You gave us a serious scare, Dad." Lena agreed, as she finished tying Anna's hair into braids. She moved to do the younger Puckerman girl's hair into the same style. "And anyways, Noah looks so handsome when he's working on the cars, so take your time getting better."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "What Lena means to say is-"

"Yeah, I got it." Burt cut him off.

Anna moved from her spot on the floor to sit with their father. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. "We don't want to lose you, Daddy, so please just do as the doctor asked."

Sighing in defeat Burt looked at the faces of his three children.

"Fine, I'll rest but I refuse to be bedridden; it's almost been three months, the doctor says I need to move more now. So I will." He looked in Kurt's direction as he said the last part.

Kurt shook his head as he fought a smile, "And you say I'm stubborn."

"You are. You're a Hummel. It's in ou-"

"I know dad, it's in our blood." Finally letting his smile break free.

The living room grew into a comfortable silence, which allowed Kurt to curl up on the chesterfield with a book, The Canterbury Tales today.

It was hours later, after Noah had returned from the shop and ushered the girls to bed, that Kurt and Burt sat at the kitchen table looking over the accounting papers from the shop.

Kurt held up the latest numbers from the shop looking distraught "Dad, there is no way we can pay these bills right now. We just don't have the money."

Burt shuffled through the papers running one hand across his balding head "We'll figure it out, Kurt." He heaved a sigh. "It's just been harder on us since I can't work. We'll figure it out."

Kurt watched as his father scanned over all the papers his hand going back to his head to scratch. Making up his mind, Kurt took what little bit of courage he had and spoke quietly "You do know there is a very easy way to fix this-"

"No."

Kurt took a steadying breath. "Dad, it's an easy way to get the money we need, and you know it."

Burt stopped and looked straight into Kurt's eyes. "I don't want my son going off to war. You don't have to get yourself killed. We'll find a way."

Kurt looked away from his father's hard gaze, looking at the stained wood of the table. "Dad," Kurt whispered, "You know it is the only way. We've been making sure that the boys get paid, and we keep forgetting that we have bills to pay too. We've been living on almost nothing for weeks." Glancing up quickly to look at his father, he saw that his father's head was buried in his hands. Kurt grabbed the arm closest to him, giving it a squeeze. "I know you are trying to protect us, especially me, but you have to think about this rationally. It's the only way otherwise we'll lose everything."

"I know," Burt whispered miserably. "But I'd rather lose the house and the shop than you."

Kurt's breath caught when he saw tears in his father's eyes. "I don't want to be the one to basically sign your death warrant. You're my son Kurt, I'm supposed to look out for you and take care of you-"

"And you are, Dad." Kurt said trying to keep his own tears from falling. "You are, and you always have, but now it's time I look out for you."

Burt tried to interrupt but Kurt stopped him. "I want to help you."

It was then that Burt's tears started to fall. "I can't lose you too, Kurt. I can't."

Kurt couldn't control his tears any longer, and a sob broke from him. Burt moved around the table and gathered Kurt onto a tight hug, holding his son as they both let tears fall. Kurt's shoulders were shaking and his father stroked his back in soothing circles. It took the men a few minutes to calm down, wiping their eyes and sniffling.

"I need you to trust me, Dad. I need you to trust that I'm doing this for the right reasons. You know I had planned on joining before you got sick, but then I had to stay to help look after you and the girls." Kurt sighed "I'm not just doing this for you, but for me too..."

Burt looked at Kurt, searching his eyes, "Are you sure about this? You know you can die-"

"I know." Kurt hesitated "I know I could die but for some reason I feel that I need to do this, don't ask me why- I just know. You can't even stop me. I'm of age; I don't need your permission. But I would like your blessing."

Kurt watched the emotions flit across his father's face before he spoke quietly, looking at his hands in his lap. "I keep forgetting you are not a little boy anymore, you're a man now." Burt let out a soft chuckle, and then turned his gaze to his son, a look of determination cross his father's features. "I don't like this, not at all, but if you want my blessing you have it."

Kurt pulled Burt into a tight hug. "Thank you, Dad." Kurt mumbled into his father's shoulder.

Kurt pulled away quickly. "I give you my word that I will fight to get back to you alive." Kurt said, his determination growing. "I promise I'll make you proud."

Surprise flashed across Burt's face "I have always been proud of you," Burt wrapped Kurt in another tight hug. "Don't you ever think that I am not proud of you. Now you remember that you just promised to fight to come back to us; you better keep your word."

Kurt relaxed into his father's strong, warm arms. "I promise Dad, I'll find some way to get back to you."

"Good, I love you, Kurt." Burt murmured into Kurt's ear squeezing him a bit tighter, "I love you so much, Kiddo."

Kurt couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking as violent sobs wracked his body. "I love you too Dad, I love you too."