Chapter 8

November 30, 2012

The next few days were pretty hectic for Kurt. Next to going to school and doing homework he had to unpack many boxes ("Why did we have to bring all this stuff? We could have bought it here!"), go looking for cars with his dad ("Hey, buddy, look at this one! I'm definitely buying it for you."), go shopping ("Yes, I promise I won't exceed my limit.") and do it all while still affected by the jet lag ("I'm sure it was coffee that the Greek gods called ambrosia.").

Yet, it wasn't the physical tasks that left him exhausted. More than anything he grew tired of his constant caution mode. The teen kept looking around and over his shoulder in a hope of catching a glimpse of the slave that had occupied his mind since Monday. He even ignored the bus that came a few minutes after the last period and stayed until the following one, hoping that the boy had some sort of a ritual or a schedule and walked the same streets at the same times every day. With each day such hope lessened until another idea hit him – maybe the boy didn't have a daily ritual, maybe he had a weekly one. Kurt got his hopes up again.

No matter how excited he was for Monday, though, he couldn't let his guard down and kept looking around wherever he went. Friday afternoon was not an exception. His car still wasn't ready as his dad had insisted on taking a professional look at it before he was sure that Kurt would be safe driving it, so he and Rachel got into Mercedes' car and drove to the Lima Bean, the café that according to the girls, made the best coffee in Lima.

"Do you like the town, Kurt?" Rachel asked, looking back from the front seat.

Kurt looked up from the window. "What?"

The girl smiled brightly at him. "You were silent and kept staring through the window so I assumed you were enjoying the view."

Yeah, as if this could compare to Paris.

"Lima is nice," he offered. "I still haven't seen it all so I'm just trying to take it all in."

The girls seemed to be pleased with the answer and Mercedes sparked the conversation about their plans for the weekend. As Kurt's response about unpacking appeared to be boring, the girls discussed theirs. Mercedes apparently, had some unpleasant duties.

"I have to take my slave to the vet tomorrow," she grumbled. "It must have caught something."

"Vet?" Kurt asked confused, not sure if the word meant exactly what he thought.

"Veterinarian? An animal doctor?" Rachel simplified as if he was a kid.

"I know what it means but why are you taking your slave there, Cedes?" the boy asked.

Kurt saw Mercedes rolling her eyes in the rear-view mirror. "My parents insist that I take it to check if it is really sick or just faking it. I'm sure it's nothing serious, it's always been a lazy ass."

"Talking about asses," Rachel giggled as Mercedes parked in front of the café. "Look what is there."

Kurt followed Rachel's finger and saw two big trash containers in an alley across the street. Nothing looked out of ordinary at first until he moved a little to get a better angle. There, in between the two containers, the curly-haired boy was sitting with his knees drown close to his chest. After days of looking Kurt finally found him and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Who is he?" the boy asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Everyone calls it 'smelly-ass'. It's been in Lima for over a year now. To be honest, I didn't think it would survive last winter but here it is, still alive and tainting the town," Rachel said with disgust. "It's a stray slave, in case you were wondering."

The girls opened the doors and Kurt followed their lead, climbing out of the car. "What does that mean?"

Mercedes was the one to answer his question. "A stray slave is like the worst kind of slave. It either means that it was kicked out by its owners or ran away. Both ways, it's a sign of a bad slave."

"But it's not hi– a slave's fault if the family wants to get rid of hi– it," Kurt frowned as they entered the warm café.

Rachel and Mercedes shared a meaningful look. "There is so much you need to learn, Kurt," Rachel stated and got in the queue right in front of an elderly couple. "Slaves cost money. Reselling a slave means getting back some money that you have spent on it, right? What kind of people would rather kick out their slave instead of reselling it? Even rich people don't do that. It only means that such slave does not deserve to have a roof over its head."

Kurt did his best to hide his disgust. "And running away? Why don't all slaves just run away and live freely?"

Mercedes raised one eyebrow and Kurt assumed he had just said something wrong. "If you weren't French, Kurt..." she prolonged the silence and shook her head. "There is no such thing as a 'free slave.' God, I can't believe I used words 'free' and 'slave' in the same sentence."

"According to the laws, once a slave, always a slave," Rachel took over from Mercedes. "So basically stray slaves just roam the streets until they are found by their owners or die. Sometimes they kill themselves as well."

"Thankfully, Lima has only one stray slave and from the look at it I can tell that he won't last long," Mercedes said and as it was their turn to order, they finished the conversation.

They placed their orders for coffee and waited by the counter to pick them up when Kurt came up with another question that he just had to get an answer for.

"You said that that boy, that slave has been in Lima for over a year, right?" he asked and the girls nodded. "Why hasn't anyone done anything about it? There must be some shelters or something."

"Kurt, you are thinking about homeless people," Mercedes pointed out. "Slaves don't get to use the shelters. They are not worth it."

"Then, what about the city council? Why are they just ignoring the problem?" he insisted.

The barista brought their drinks and the trio went to find a table to sit at.

"There is obviously a hole in the law," Rachel said disapprovingly. "Since a stray slave legally still belongs to someone, nobody can do anything. It would be illegal. Which is stupid, just look at that thing across the street, nobody wants it here! I don't understand why it doesn't leave. I know that the jocks have tried to find where it sleeps and they also beat it up a few times but it still stays here!"

"Oh, and in the beginning my church let it sleep in one of their buildings until my dad and his friends complained," Mercedes cut in. "It's really inappropriate to let such horrible thing sleep in a sacred place."

Did an apocalypse happened in the States and demons came visiting from hell?

"But," Rachel said with a widening smile as she took out a netbook from her bag, "enough about that, we have a much better thing to do!"

Kurt groaned internally. For the past few days the girls couldn't stop talking about this – today was the day when they had to choose a slave for Rachel. From what the girls had told him before, he knew that there was a website where the newest, 'never used before' slaves had their profiles with the necessary information, photos, and starting prices. On a certain day the online auction started and people interested in a particular slave could bid and try to win their desired person.

"Let's begin!" Rachel said excitedly and typed in the website. "Okay, let's see the advanced search tool."

"Kurt, come closer," Mercedes insisted and he reluctantly moved his chair closer to Rachel so that they could all see the screen now. "Filter those, who have at least a month of training. You don't want a mediocrely trained slave."

"Good idea," Rachel said and continued with the search form, filling in the appearance details.

Thankfully the girls didn't expect Kurt to participate too much. Like they had said before, they knew everything about the details given in the information section, so the boy just silently sipped his drink, ignoring what was happening on the screen. Until it was time for his input.

"Okay, we are down to five," Rachel counted the profiles that the website produced after her search was completed. "Now, guys, let's take a closer look!"

Kurt looked at the screen and saw five small photos of different, yet very similar boys. It reminded him of the dating website that he and his friends once looked at for fun. Rachel clicked on the first profile and a much bigger came into view. Kurt covered his eyes – the boy was completely naked.

"Kurt, are you a blushing virgin?" Rachel giggled. "Don't be embarrassed, everything here is natural!"

"Why... why do they put these kind photos here?" he asked, taking his hand off his eyes, now ready for what was in front of him.

"You need to see what you are buying, da-ah," Mercedes mocked him. "Okay, girl, let's see its butt."

Every slave had four photos – one of the front, one of the back and one for each side. The girls looked at them for a long time, comparing, discussing everything they liked and disliked. They were so into it that the lack of Kurt's enthusiasm went unnoticed. He managed to get away with just saying that they were all not his type and they left him alone.

The whole time Kurt tried to see the boy through the window but the angle wasn't right and he could see nothing. However, if the boy hadn't left earlier while they were queuing, Kurt would have seen him walking out of the alley. Maybe he was still there.

"Okay, we are down to two..." Rachel said after a while. "I think I will ask my dads for their opinion. The starting prices are a bit different and they are in charge of money after all."

The girl put the netbook back into her bag and they finished their coffees talking about school. Apparently one cheerleader had gotten pregnant and the girls still hadn't had a chance to gossip about it since they found out about it after the last period.

In the end Kurt was relieved to leave the café. When they exited the building, his eyes went straight to the alley and he saw that the boy in fact stayed in the very same spot.

"Hey, you know, I forgot, my dad loves frappe, I think I should get him one," he said and turned to go back into the café. "Don't wait for me. I will call him to pick me up. I'll see you on Monday."

They bid their goodbyes and the girls went back to the car while Kurt went back into the emptying Lima Bean. There was only one person in front of him so he ordered very quickly and his order was made in no time. He thanked the barista and left the café with a big take-away mug of hot liquid and a paper bag.

The street was empty so Kurt easily crossed to the other side and slowly went into the alley, careful not to startle the boy. However, his attempts were unsuccessful since the boy looked up at him with fear-filled eyes.

"Hey, don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," Kurt hurried to reassure the slave. "Remember me? I gave you cookies a few days ago?"

The boy relaxed a little bit but it was obvious that he was still tensed. After a few seconds the shock was over and the boy rushed to get on his knees. In his haste Kurt noticed that he was wearing fluffy worn-out slippers on his feet.

"No, no, no," Kurt stopped him, making the boy tense even more. "No kneeling okay? You can sit if you want."

The boy stopped his movements and went back to his original position. "Thank you, Sir. Um, if I may, I remember you, Sir. And the cookies were worth an A+. Thank you."

"Well, thank you for the compliment," Kurt said and without even thinking sat down on the cold, dirty ground. "My name is Kurt, no need to call me Sir, just Kurt."

The boy looked up in disbelief as Kurt sat in front of him, obviously not used to an eye-to-eye position with other people.

"Yes, Kurt," the boy nodded in agreement.

There was a short pause and teenager wasn't sure what to say until he realised that he had wanted to know the boy's name since the moment they met. "So, what's your name?"

The boy looked at him confused but didn't hesitate to answer. "It's Blaine, Si– Kurt."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Blaine," Kurt said and was about to extend his hand for the boy to shake when he noticed that both of his hands were full. "Oh, I forgot why I came over here. I brought these for you. The tea is probably still too hot to drink straight away and the biscotti are probably not as nice as my cookies since those were made by me but I'm sure they are pretty tasty. So, here."

The teenager extended both hands and after a moment Blaine's shaky hands reached out for the goods offered to him. He first took the mug and let out a content sigh as the warmth of it hit his freezing skin.

"I can keep the biscotti while you warm up your hands," Kurt offered as it was obvious that the boy's both hands could use the warmth. "They are still yours, I will just keep them safely until you are ready, okay?"

Blaine nodded eagerly and pressed the mug to his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment and if Kurt wasn't mistaken, the slave had a small smile on his face. Kurt smiled at the sight, it was heart-breaking to see someone this happy over a mug of hot tea.

When the boy opened his eyes, there were tears in them. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Sensing that it was his cue to leave since Blaine, the name still sounded weird in his mind, would probably appreciate some privacy, Kurt placed the bag next to the boy and stood up. "You are very welcome," he said in response and left.

Kurt walked all the way back home since his dad was still at work and he could use some time outside to freshen his head anyway. The encounter left him emotional and as soon as he got into his bedroom, he began to cry for the boy who had so little yet deserved so much. When there were no more tears to cry, he sat down at the table and took out a new book for scrapbooking that he had gotten during one of his shopping trips. He opened the book and glued the receipt from the Lima Bean with 'Herbal tea, large' and 'Biscotti x 5' written on it, to the first page and wrote 'A new friend' next to it. It seemed like a good starting point of his new life.