After you prepared for the day and given breakfast, you were forced into a morning group therapy session where a counselor would bombard you with stupid questions. "Do you feel you should be here? Are you feeling disconnected from the outside world? How are you coping without your family and friends?" Kurt sat there with his arms folded across his chest. The staff soon figured out after the first month that Kurt would never answer their obvious questions.

"No, I shouldn't be here. Fuck the outside world. What family and friends?" He answered the same questions everyday inside his head.

Following group therapy came arts and crafts. Kurt snorted the first time he heard there was actually an arts and craft program taking place at a detention center for troubled youth. He would have actually participated if he didn't claim his creativity was "washed away with everything else from his previous life."

By noon you were fed lunch or at least that's what they called it at Crawford Country Day. Each meal repulsed Kurt more than the last. There was a time where he refused to eat for a solid week. He lost about 10 pounds and earned himself a trip to the medic ward. The staff at Crawford Country Day soon realized they would have to accommodate Kurt with his own meals in order for him to eat.

Once lunch was finished, it was visiting time. Kurt hated this time of the day with a burning passion. Every single day someone would come to visit him, that someone being his father, Burt Hummel. It's not like Kurt hated his father because it was quite the opposite. He just couldn't stand looking at him anymore or hearing his pleas for progress at the center.

Fortunately for Kurt, immediately following visiting hours was his one on one therapy session with Ms. Mirandi. She was somewhere between the ages of 35-40, a curvaceous woman with long curly brown hair. She was quite attractive, if Kurt had to admit. Ms. Mirandi was also the only woman at Crawford Country Day that he could tolerate at being around. Did I mention that Crawford Country Day was a juvenile center with a full staff of women?

She was the only one he really talked to. Even if it was a snarky remark or one word answers to questions she asked. His attitude was a given seeing as the activity that followed was the Kurt's least favorite. Music. They actually had a fucking music program at a juvenile center. Kurt couldn't bear it.

Music only provided him with aches, ones that filled his head as well as his heart. Anyone who knew Kurt knew music was the only thing Kurt loved in the world, next to fashion. It was his everything, his future, his dream and he didn't have it in himself to pretend like it meant anything anymore.

So he sat and listened to his music counselor, Ms. Solomon, try to teach other "troubled teens" to hit a bearable note. They failed of course, miserable. And if Kurt cared, he could have blown those other kids away with his beautiful voice but no. The only thing he cared about was tormenting his counselor. And he did successfully each day. Sometimes it was an insult that Kurt threw at her and that was all it took for the group to spin out of control. It was quite easy actually.

Kurt would leave the music activity with an accomplished smirk before heading out. The rest of the day was uneventful like the morning. Dinner, shower, and in bed before 9. It was a shame really. Kurt hated the predicable routine of Crawford Country Day, which was ironic because he used go through a vigorous skin care routine every single day.

So that's what he did day after day. The only thing he had to look forward to was June 15th, which was the day of his trial. He knew he wouldn't win the case. His chances were slim to none. He could explain the reason behind his motives but that could only get him so far. It was his words, and maybe even witness, against a beaten Karofsky.

So he accepted the fact that he would be sentenced to jail or something of the sort. He would be taken out of Country Crawford Day and he actually was counting the days down until that happened.

Kurt woke up this morning and marked his calendar in his holding cell. Only 10 more weeks until his trial. He smiled to himself, knowing his days were literally numbered now. He could endure 10 more weeks at Crawford Country Day or at least he thought so.

He was going through his day like normal. Kurt ate, stayed silent during group, didn't participate in arts and crafts, received a visit from an upset Burt Hummel, and was on his way to talk to Ms. Mirandi. His session was flowing perfectly until she asked him to stay back a few minutes. This pissed him off a tad bit. Even if he didn't appreciate music anymore, he liked riling up the counselor."

"I want you to behave in music today." She looked at him pleadingly. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "This is why you asked me stay, really?" Kurt rose from his chair and made way to the door where his guard who stood outside, waiting to accompany him to music.

"It's not a lot to ask, Kurt. Just drop the attitude." He rolled his eyes and faced her, placing his hands on his hips. Nobody told Kurt Hummel what to do. "Why the fuck would I do that?" She bit her lip in apprehension before laying some new information on Kurt. "We've hired a new volunteer to help handle with the music spectrum. He's young, about your age I think. He's not used to it here but he wants to change every-"

Kurt's ears perked up like a puppy who was just asked if he wanted a treat. He immediately interrupted Ms. Mirandi. "He? Crawford decided to add some testosterone into the mix, huh? Kurt likely." Do you know how long it had been since Kurt saw another male other than his father? Sure there were other guys who were stuck in here with Kurt but this guy would be new. Fresh meat!

With a smirk and a new agenda to personally fuck with this new volunteer, he dashed out the door before Ms. Mirandi could say anything else. Kurt knew this would be fun. This might just be the most fun he'd have in the four months he'd been at the center.

He made his way to music with his guard at his side. Surely he would draw attention, arriving late to music. He'd walk in like he owned the place, not like he didn't normally do that anyway, and start right away. He wasn't going to let this new volunteer come in here without letting him know this wasn't the place to be. That he couldn't change anything.

Kurt would barge into the room, take one look at the poor kid and make him regret ever coming to Crawford Country Day. With his guard in tow, he reached his destination. He stopped outside the door, cracked his knuckles with anticipation, and let himself in.

What happened next was the last thing Kurt could have expected. He only got two feet inside the room until he stopped dead in his tracks. The smirk on his face fell instantly as he laid eyes on the new volunteer. New being the operative here because this volunteer was anything but new to Kurt.

A familiar face dressed in a dark purple cardigan and black jeans that hugged his hips in all the right place, stood Blaine Anderson. Feet glued to their spot, Kurt let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. No. This couldn't be happening right now. Out of every guy in Ohio, what were the chances?

Blaine stood there in all his glory, biting his lip. What the hell was that about? He looked… nervous, surprised? "You've got to be shitting me!" It came out louder than it was supposed to but Kurt didn't mind. Regaining the movement of his legs again, he strode over to Blaine disregarding the stares from everyone else in the room. Without hesitation, he settled in front of him.

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and licked his lips at the sight of Blaine fucking Anderson. "My, my, my, Blaine Anderson. I almost forgot how absolutely delicious you looked."