On a bench in Central Park there is a boy, with bruises on his face. It has been a while since he was here last time, two months precisely. It has been two months since his fathers funeral, since that horrible phone-call.

Simon have been watching over him like a hawk. He didnt dare to leave without his permission. But tonight, Simon had come home drunk, really drunk. He had yelled at Kurt. For making the food too salty, for buying the wrong vine from the store. Kurt didnt dare to remind him that it actually was Simon himself who bought it.

He had hit Kurt again, not hard, this time. But it was enough to make his cheek sting. It had started to swell up. It would make a bruise. The bruise from last time hadnt even faded completely yet, but that one was on his shoulder and was easily hidden from public. Not that he thought anyone would care if they saw them. But to avoid questions.

He didnt like it when people questioned his and Simons relationship. They always said Simon didnt love him, but he did. Otherwise he wouldnt keep Kurt around. He just... got angry sometimes. Everybody gets angry. Kurt too. And when you get angry, you want to fight. Kurt fought with words. But not Simon. He fights with kicks and punches. But only when he got really angry, and when he got really angry... It was Kurts fault. Always. So Simon just, put him into place, made him better.

He knew Simon loved him, but sometimes... Kurt got scared of him. Those times when he would throw things at the walls. When the apartment were filled with the sound of shattering glass. When Kurt just stood there, arms wrapped around himself, eyes shut, just waiting for the blow to come.

Sometimes it didnt come. When the bedroom door slammed shut, Kurt opened his eyes, and with hands, trembling with fear, he started to pick up the shattered glass from the floor.

This time, after he had yelled, after he had flung the china into the wall, after Simons fist had collided with Kurts left cheek, he had collapsed on the bed. In a drunken deep sleep.

Then, when Kurt had picked up all the china from the floor, when he had gotten rid of all the food on the wall, and when he had aided his split lip. Kurt walked up to the front door, and felt the door knob, hoping that for once, Simon would have been too drunk when he got home that he forgot to lock the door. The door had slide open.

And now, Kurt was here. In Central Park, right were our story began. This time too he is waiting. But he doesnt know for what anymore. Maybe he is just waiting for the courage to go home. He just wants to go home. For Simon to love him again. For them to be happy.

But now, he just wants to sit here, in the quiet park, listen to the city and look at the stars.

He is doing just that, when he suddenly senses that he is not alone. He glances to his right, and there is Bob. Kurt almost flinches, almost. But he is used to Bob just showing up, out of nowhere now.

"Oh... Hi Bob..." he says, looking up" Long time no see."

Bob dont answer immediately. He studies Kurt for a long time, in the pale light of the lone street light. Then he puts his backpack on the ground and sits down beside his friend.

"You could say so" he replies, sounding irritated, "Where have you been, kid? I have been worried about you... I would have gone to the police if I knew where you lived."

"I dont want your help Bob!" Kurt snaps, sounding harsher than he meant to.

"Yeah, I know. But you need it." Bob cuts him off with a glare.

Both of them are silent for a while after that. Now, when Kurt thinks about it, they never really talks much, him and Bob. They mostly just sat there. Sometimes they sang. Every once in a while someone of them said something, maybe getting an answer from the other. But mostly they were silent.

"He hit you." It isnt a question, Bob is looking at him with anger in his eyes, but Kurt knows it isnt directed at him. There is sadness in his eyes too.

"He didnt mean to" Kurt says. It isnt a lie, at least he doesnt want it to be.

"Like hell he didnt!" Kurt flinches as Bob raises his voice.

"Im sorry..." he mumbles, almost too quiet for Bob to hear.

The older mans brown eyes widens in chock for a moment. Kurt has never flinched away from him before, never seemed like he was afraid.

"Where have you been kid?" he asks, his voice filled with worry, "Its been two months, what happened?"

Kurt doesnt answer, for a long time they just sit silent. It is past midnight now, and freezing cold. The trees around them is filled with Christmas lights, making the park glow magically in the night.

As Bob realises that Kurt wont answer him, he huffs under his breath, and takes out his cigarettes. He looks at the younger man as he smokes the cigarette, he seems so... fragile, more sad and alone than Bob has ever seen him before. A dark bruise was forming on his left cheek, a black eye already showing, and somehow Bob doubts that those arent the only bruises that linger on the young mans body.

"If youre not going to answer me, you could at least sing...if not for me... for yourself..." he waits a moment before he continues, "I think you need it, you dont have to tell me what happened... but, I am here for you... no matter what, okay?"

It takes a long time before Kurt does anything, but then he starts to sing, and his voice sound so... hurt, so... emotional and small and sad and... lost, that Bob almost immediately starts crying. This is a song of a really hurt person, someone who has lost the one person in the world who mattered the most.

"Would you know my name,

If I saw you in heaven?

Would it be the same,

If I saw you in heaven?

I must be strong and carry on

Cause I know I dont belong here in heaven."

Bob listens to the song, and he is instantly taken back to the first time he ever met Kurt, it had been two years ago, at the time Kurt had yet to meet his boyfriend. He was a freshman at NYADA, living in a small shoebox apartment, not too far from Central Park.