If I could find a way to see this straight I’d run away
To some fortune that I should have found by now
And so I run to the things they said could restore me
Restore life the way it should be
I’m waiting for this cough syrup to go down

~

Blaine wanted to curl up into the tiniest ball possible. He wanted to become invisible.

The only thing he could see for miles was smoldering, desolate desert. The hot air that whipped through the window was smothering him, and he could feel little beads of sweat on his forehead and the back of his neck. His nose and throat were raw from the gritty air, dry as the dirt on the ground, and he was pretty sure he was already sunburned from the harsh rays. The mountains in the distance seemed stand-offish, as if they too had already turned their back on him. The sky was splashed with plain blue, but not a comforting blue; more like a dull blue, a blue that promised he would find no condolences in this barren land.

‘Anywhere would be better than here’, he thought gloomily, his eyes darting towards his father, who had been silently grasping the steering wheel. He hadn’t said a single word to his son since the ride started, and he didn’t expect anything to be said by the time he was gone.

“Alienation” isn’t the right word, but it’s the first one to come to mind.

He wished his dad would slow down a little bit, then maybe he could gather his bearings and adjust to his new environment, this new arid landscape. Guilt made him wish he could just crumble away like the dust so he didn’t have to face whatever was waiting for him in his new summer home, his new prison, his new hell on Earth.

‘Maybe God got it all wrong,’ he thought to himself. ‘Maybe hell is here on Earth, since this is the worst place a soul can be.' He stared at the sky, as if God would show up to give him his input on the matter, but he knew that was impossible; God had better things to do than comfort a sinner like him.

~

They had stopped to eat lunch in Winnemucca, Nevada, about three hours away from where his aunt April lived. Blaine had only heard of his parents speak of his fathers’ sister a handful of times, so he wasn’t sure what to expect, and he was afraid to ask his father about her. His father was sitting across from him, mulling over a newspaper and eating his burger silently. The teenage boy stared down at his own burger, and found he wasn’t very hungry, looking at it with disinterest.

Despite the regret eating away at him, he had to ask his dad something.

“W-will you miss me?”

His father’s hazel eyes stared into Blaine’s matching ones. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, Blaine.”

Blaine felt a pang of defiance rise with the initial sadness that resulted from that comment. “Well, that’s not just my fault,” he said quietly, averting his eyes to the burger. “You can’t just blame me for how much we’ve grown apart.”

“It didn’t have to be like this, Blaine, but you sinned, and now you’re going to be punished and set straight. If sending you away from home for a while after...after what happened is going to do that, then good riddance. Your mother has a new baby on the way and the last thing she needs is you getting into the wrong crowd and causing more problems.” His father spoke to him like he was a small child who forgot to put his toys away, yet his vindictive tone gave Blaine the sudden urge to jump out the window and run away, away to a faraway place that he knew he might never find.

~

As they got closer to his aunt April’s house, the scenery began to change. Rocks began taking on incredible shapes and sizes, and the mountains didn’t seem quite so ominous as they had before. The gravel on the road crackled and crunched underneath the tires of the truck and Blaine’s eyes tore from his clasped hands to outside the window. He had been praying, although for what he wasn’t sure, but when he looked outside he stopped. His hands loosened, and in the daiquiri of depression and guilt and isolation, there was a tint of something...

“Freedom” isn’t the right word, but it’s the first one that comes to mind.

In the distance, Blaine could see a line of green against the sky, and as they drove closer, something happened to him. For a second, as nearly 145 acres of lush, water-fed grass filled the scene outside the dirty truck window, Blaine wasn’t scared. He wasn’t nervous, or guilt-ridden, or angry, or alone. For a second, as the untamed ranch of his aunt splayed itself in front of him, he was...intrigued. There was no thought of the family he had left behind in Utah, there was no thought of the bottle of whiskey he knew his father had in the glove compartment, there was no concern about what he had done; there was just interest.

That was, until he felt the daggers his father was glaring at him, promptly flooding Blaine back with misery.

They pulled into the dirt driveway, and a plethora of animals lazed their ways up towards the foreign car. Cats, dogs, ducks, geese, a donkey and even a rabbit approached them cautiously. The air was filled with their inquiring sounds; quacks and meows and barks and squeaks.

Blaine’s father opened the car door and turned to Blaine.

“Get your suitcase and backpack out of the back.”

Blaine did as he was told. His backpack consisted of a collection of school books and notebooks, filled with summer homework he had to complete before his senior year. His suitcase held a few pairs of worn slacks, three button up white shirts, and three pairs of socks and boxers. He didn’t have much, but in his house, you didn’t deserve much, even if you were a boy.

“Blaine, look at how big you’ve gotten,” a high-pitched voice said loudly, a tone of impression in her melodic voice. “It’s about damn time you came to visit me!”

Blaine looked up from the back of the truck, just pulling his backpack over his shoulder. He cocked his head, studying the woman standing a few yards away from him, who was analysing him just as obviously. He had no memories of her, but nonetheless he smiled timidly and asked, “How are you, Aunt April?”

She waved her hand at him. “Call me Aunt A; saying Aunt April left and right is gonna just waste breath.” She brushed away a wisp of blonde hair and started to speak before his dad interrupted her with a mumbled hello.

“Hello, Johnathon.” She said pleasantly before turning to the house. “Let’s all go inside. Dinner should be ready before you know it.”

“No, April, I really should be leaving.” His father tried to say. “Margaret is waiting-”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s nearly eight; just stay for the night. It won’t kill you.” April said decisively, heading into the house.

The teenage boy’s eyes flinched as he waited for his father to retaliate, but it never came; he then looked after his aunt with an expression of awe. A woman that didn’t take crap from his dad?

He liked her already.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” His dad snapped, and Blaine jumped before ducking his head and rushing inside after his aunt, heading straight upstairs to what would now be his room. He didn’t even have time to look around and assess the room that he would be living in for the next three months before his aunt was yelling up the stairs that dinner was ready.

~

Blaine sat across from his father, who was glowering quietly into his mashed potatoes. His aunt was sitting at the head of the table, eating quietly but more or less contentedly, and Blaine was doing his best not to scarf down everything in sight. He hadn’t eaten all day and despite the fact he was still a tad depressed, that didn’t stop his stomach from growling at him until he ate.

It wasn’t until Blaine actually started to chew his food that he noticed the tension in the dining room. He looked from his aunt to his father. He knew that they hadn’t spoken for nearly ten years because of some past conflict, but he didn’t even know what had happened. He couldn’t imagine not speaking to his sisters for ten years.

Before he even had time to stop himself, he asked if they were still mad at each other.

Simultaneously, his father and aunt responded.

“Who ever said we were mad at each other?” His father asked in surprise.

“Best let sleepin’ dogs lie.” His aunt replied with a swallow of her mashed potatoes.

~

He was supposed to be asleep, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. He felt like crying, but he swallowed the urge. Men didn’t cry.

Voices floated upstairs, and he could hear his aunt and dad arguing downstairs.

“Now, I don’t want you going soft on him,” his father was rambling. Blaine could tell by the way his words meshed together that he had left to visit his good friend Jack Daniels. “I didn’t bring ‘im out here so he could get rewarded for his sins-”

“It’s my house, Jonathan, and you’d best remember that I’ll do as I please,” she snapped. “If you don’t like it you can just take him right on home, it don’t make no difference to me.”

Blaine’s heart lurched. For some reason, he didn’t want to go back home, unlike how he had felt on the car ride here. He was still unmistakeably depressed, but for some reason, it wasn’t from the homesickness. He knew his family wouldn’t miss him, and that fact didn’t sadden him. In fact, he had a strange suspicion that he wouldn’t miss them either...wasn’t that awful? To live with people for seventeen years and not even miss them? What was wrong with his family? What was wrong with him?

“Contrition” isn’t the right word, but it’s the first one that comes to mind.

~

When he woke up the next day, his father had already left. He hadn’t expected any good-byes from his father, but he still felt a pang of sadness.

The first week of living there, he had learned two things.

The first was that Aunt A had no expectations when it came to his chores around the farm.

“You’re a guest,” she had said the first morning. “I won’t say no to some help, but you don’t have to.”

He said he wanted to. He needed to be busy, and physical labour would be a wonderful change from doing homework he really didn’t care about and thinking about things he really didn’t want to care about.

The second thing he had learned was that life out here, in the middle of nowhere, was very different from living in suburbia.

The sound of traffic or an alarm clock didn’t wake him up every morning; he was free to sleep in as much as he wanted. That didn’t mean he did, but just knowing he could if he wanted to was comforting. Service also wasn’t a priority out here, something he was antsy about. He had attended service every single day for seventeen years, rain or shine, sick or healthy, but out here, there was no mention of church or praying. Even at the dinner table, Aunt A did little more than close her eyes and pause a minute before beginning to eat. Still, every morning Blaine did his prayer routine, even though he knew it probably wasn’t helping him any.

The first week had been a week of testing each other, as Blaine thought of it. She talked about life in the middle of nowhere, he talked about life in the city. She talked about isolation, he talked about overcrowding. She talked about the pros and cons of physical labour, he talked about taking care of eight younger sisters. She talked about supporting herself, he talked about school, up until the past few months, which led her to ask why he had been exiled here.

It was Saturday morning. They had been cleaning the stables where her two horses, Pepper and Snare, resided in. He stopped rinsing out feed buckets for a second, thinking. He bit his lip. How much could he confide in her? He liked her well enough, and she seemed to be trustworthy, but...he just didn’t know.

He continued washing it out. “Why do you think I’ve been exiled here?” He asked quietly.

“Well, your father told me you’d gotten into some trouble at school and with, uh, a group of people...”

Blaine didn’t look up as he continued to wash the buckets out. “Yeah, a little bit of both,” he admitted. “Is that all?”

“Well, your bishop seems to think you’re under the influence of the devil.”

Blaine’s eyes turned sad, and he tossed the bucket on the ground, standing up to face his aunt, a note of defiance in his posture. “Possessed? For wanting a normal life?”

“Do you think punching someone in the face is normal? What about breaking a car window?”

“No,” Blaine faltered, tears threatening to form in his hazel eyes. Memories of the week before he was to be sent away flew into his mind, of that night in the desert... “I was just...”

“Angry? Angry enough to punch someone in the face?”

“Hurt,” he admitted. “Hurt enough to want someone else to hurt too. I’m sorry I did it.”

"Reprieved" isn’t the right word, but it’s the first that comes to mind.

His aunt stepped up to him and patted his shoulder, her eyes unreadable. “Well, I don’t think you’re possessed by the devil. He has bigger fish to fry, mostly with our government. Come on, let’s head into town and grab some things for supper.”

They began walking out of the barn, and Blaine wiped at his eyes in frustration. Was it that easy to make him cry? He was such a failure. He followed his aunt to the car and blinked in surprise when she tossed him the keys to her truck.

“Here, you drive.”

He looked down at the keys in his hand. “I don’t know how to drive. Dad says I don’t need to drive until I’m eighteen.”

She laughed. “Why in the hell is that?”

“Because that’s when I’m old enough to marry and teach my wife how to drive if I want.” The words tasted foreign and sour on his tongue.

She stopped laughing abruptly and Blaine could tell he had touched a nerve.

“That is the stupidest thing I ever heard!” she said angrily, pushing past him to get in the passenger seat. “You’re learning how to drive, and not just for your ‘wife’. Get your butt in the car.”

Blaine hurried to the drivers side, hastily slamming the door shut and staring at the keys in his hand, looking up at his aunt.

“Put the key in that slot there. Okay, now turn it just a tad-no, not that hard, you’ll ruin the battery. Alright, now that you’ve got it going, it’s easy; the right pedal is gas, the left one is the break. Steering wheel steers the car, and don’t run anything over.”

Blaine tried to remember his aunt’s already simple instructions, reciting them under his breath as he placed his feet on the pedals.

“You have to take it out of park. P is for park, R is for reverse, D is for drive.”

“Right, I could have figure that out.”

It was a little rocky at first, but soon enough they were driving down the dusty road that followed the fenced line that led towards town. Blaine thought driving was easy enough; he didn’t see why so many people made it out to be a big deal. Steering was easy enough. Moving forward wasn’t too hard either; push the gas pedal softly, you move slow. Push the gas pedal hard, you jerk forward as if riding a wild horse and having it burst forward suddenly without warning you first. Braking was the same thing. Don’t stomp, let it on gentle. He could get used to this.

Blaine had been driving in a mostly straight line down the road rather proudly when his aunt tapped his shoulder. “Hold up a sec.”

Another car, a big black Ford Ranger, had just pulled over to the side of the road. The door was opening and someone was stepping out as they pulled up. The driver stood up from bending to inspect their flatten tire and smiled as they pulled up..

“Morning, Ms. Rhodes.”

Blaine’s eyes widened. He swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. His mind locked. No. This couldn’t happen. Not again.

Wait, how did this young guy know his aunt?

Apparently his aunt knew the guy too, because she smiled back. “Hey, Kurt. Everything alright?”

Kurt. The man in front of him was named Kurt.

Kurt leaned against his truck, flashing her a blinding smile. He had straight white teeth, and a slight drawl to his voice. His eyes were bright blue, and he had a pale complexion, despite the fact he lived out in Nevada. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, so his thin, toned chest and stomach shined underneath the sunlight. He had loose blue jeans on that were ripped at the knees, and he had black shoes. His hair was a messy brunette colour.

Blaine felt as if he’d never get over that smile.

“I’m better now,” he said, winking at his aunt. “I’ll be fine, once the Stallers stop bugging me about fixing that damned barn door. I swear, I’ve fixed it three times already this week and something new is always wrong with it.”

Blaine’s aunt chuckled and then indicated to Blaine. “This is my nephew, Blaine. He’ll be staying with me for the summer.”

Blaine didn’t look at Kurt. He started at his clasped hands, nodding.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Blaine.” He said, and Blaine swallowed at the way Kurt said his name. “I’ve always liked that name.”

Blaine nodded again, and his aunt saved him. “How’s your mom?”

Kurt stopped smiling. “She’s fine enough, I suppose. He left a big hole, though.”

“I know, Kurt,” she said reaching over to pat his arm. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Blaine began driving back to the ranch, staring straight ahead of him. One hand on the steering wheel, the other on the cross around his necklace.

The only thing that filled his sight was that blinding smile, and the horrible feeling that filled him after he had stared just a moment too long at Kurt.