No one but crazy people ever came in, people high out of their minds or annoying frat boys coming to stock up on booze for whatever party they were going to. Often it was a combination of the two. Sometimes they recognized Kurt, but they rarely said anything. No one knew exactly how to treat him after his little burst of fame a few years back, and Kurt was okay with that. He only really ever talked to Rachel, anyway. Glamorous Rachel Berry living glamorously in glamorous New York. He only talked to her when she called, and that was every few weeks.

Mostly, Kurt was alone, and he liked that. He liked the apartment he had in Columbus, even though it was tiny and there was something wrong with his refrigerator and he had to work another job on top of this one to pay for it, while still attending his classes. He didn’t mind. He could decorate it however he wanted, though he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He could invite whoever he wanted over, though he didn’t know anyone he would like enough to invite. He could do a lot of things he doesn’t do, but he wasn’t in Lima anymore, at least, and—hypothetically—he could do whatever he wanted.

This was his least favourite part of his life, he’s pretty sure. Well, one of them. It’s on the top ten. Well, it’s on the overall list. He hates the graveyard shift, is what he’s getting at. Kurt didn’t consider himself an early riser or a night owl. He considered himself someone who liked sleep. So graveyard shifts at a 24-hour grocery store were pretty much the bane of his existence, hours spent stifling yawns and chugging coffee, side-eyeing the people that came through his cash.

That particular night, the store was all but empty, save for a few high school kids throwing stuff they had written down on a list into their cart, laughing jubilantly whenever they found something. It was the kind of bright high school life Kurt had always wanted, and when they came to pay for everything he tried not to be too bitter when he saw how happy they were. They were light, and colourful, and Kurt couldn’t help but be so, so jealous. He hadn’t been light for a while.

The moment the light started to come back for him, ironically enough, was the moment he turned off the light on the ‘1’ sign above his cash, signaling the end of his shift. The moment that light was out, he heard the beep that told him someone had come in the store. On reflex, he turned to see who it was.

Another high school kid, which was odd, since it was 8 in the morning now, and usually they’re passed out at this time on a Saturday. Kurt guessed the boy was shorter than him, but he didn’t look much younger than Kurt, so he was probably a senior. His eyes were red and puffy, which was a common thing, but they looked like the aftereffect of tears, not drugs. He had a backpack on, along with about forty different layers and a wool hat, which only served to draw Kurt’s focus more—it was almost May, and too hot for even a spring jacket.

Even though his shift was over, Kurt knew he would be there for a while, since Lauren was always late and she knew Kurt wouldn’t say anything if he had to work an extra half-hour until she got there. He followed the boy with his eyes until he disappeared down an aisle, and Kurt shook himself out of it. Lauren still hadn’t showed up, though, so instead of fleeing the way he wanted to, he sighed and flicked the light over his cash back on.
Eventually, the boy came back, a cart full of food in front of him. Kurt gave him the tight, slightly wary smile he gave every customer, and the boy returned it almost exactly. Kurt scanned everything, noticing that everything was packaged: non-perishable. It reminded him of the food drives his elementary school would have every Christmas, piles of cans and boxes but never anything fresh. Kurt remembers asking his teacher why they couldn’t donate fresh food, because that had to be healthier, right?

“$62.79,” Kurt murmurs, always afraid to speak at a normal volume after his silent graveyard shifts.

The boy holds up a bank card, and Kurt gestures toward the machine with “stripe towards you!” written on a strip of tape in Lauren’s blocky script. The boy swipes his card, and Kurt thinks his hands are shaking. He finds out why when the card gets declined for insufficient funds.

The boy pales, but he looks resigned to his fate. He sighs, already putting his hat back on.

“Didn’t think he’d do it that quickly,” He says quietly to himself. It’s silent in the store, though, so Kurt hears him perfectly.

And suddenly it makes sense.

The only person who would be dressed like this boy is dressed, all the layers and the winter clothes when it was closer to summer, the only person who would hurriedly assemble a stock of non-perishable food, the only person who would do this with tear-red eyes and shaking hands, is someone who just left somewhere they weren’t ready to leave. Someone who suddenly had nothing. Someone who had to leave in a hurry, who knew they weren’t coming back. Someone who just got kicked out of their house.

It hadn’t happened with Kurt, when he told his dad, but it was something that kept him up nights weeks and months and years before, terrified at the rejection. He remembered the nightmares that had him all but screaming when he woke up, the look of hate and sometimes even disappointment in his father’s eyes. Kurt had been so relieved when his dad took it well; his legs all but gave out. He was accepted. He was going to be okay. But this boy in front of him, the boy with the horrible case of hat-hair now that he hurriedly shoved the hat back on, squishing curls over his forehead, he might not be. Kurt might have had nightmares, but it was nothing compared to what this boy must have been going through. He couldn’t wake up.

Kurt didn’t have much money. He saved whatever he could, but the fact was he was a student living alone and working two jobs to support that.

But he did have some.

He did have $62.79.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he holds his hand out when the boy goes to leave. He stops, looking even more pale that he was before. Kurt looks around to make sure there aren’t any managers watching, and then he takes out his wallet, brings out his own bank card, and swipes it (stripe facing him!). He puts in his code before the boys wide eyes and pockets the receipt.

“Have a good day,” Kurt says, meaning it a lot more than he does when he says it to everyone else. A lot more than he’s meant anything in a long time.
The boy just nods, still in awe and looking like he wants to object but he knows he can’t afford to, and leaves.

The boy and Lauren cross paths in the door, and she nods at Kurt, unapologetic for being 45 minutes late. Kurt accepts it, because Kurt always accepts it. He really doesn’t care that much, it’s Saturday and a blissful and extremely rare day off from his second job, and he intends to spend it napping through the period where Rachel usually calls, because that way if she does he can say he slept through the call.
He sheds the horrible vest he has to wear when he’s working, and he’s free for the rest of the day. He fully intends to get in his car and go home, but he hears a quiet voice calling his name.

“Kurt?” He just barely recognizes the voice of the boy whose groceries he paid for, waiting outside the store.

Kurt must look confused at the sudden first-name basis he’s apparently on with this boy, because he clarifies, “You were wearing a name tag, in there.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, “Right.”

“Blaine,” The boy says after a lengthy pause.

“What?” Kurt asks.

“It’s my name. Blaine. I’m Blaine.”

“Oh.” Kurt says again.

There’s a pause again, and again, Blaine breaks it.
“Why did you do that? In there. Why did you pay for everything?”

The issue is, Kurt doesn’t really know. He thought he did it because Blaine had gotten kicked out of his house, but he can’t say that, can he? Because if that’s not what happened, then he just assumed someone was gay, which always leads to awkwardness and sometimes, in his experience, physical and emotional pain.

But.

Blaine did say something about not thinking he would have cut his funds so quickly.

“It’s food,” Kurt says stiffly instead of acknowledging the blip in his gaydar, “Everyone should have it, so I wanted to help.”

“Well, thank you.” Blaine says, more earnest than anything Kurt’s ever heard. “I’m not having the best day, and that meant a lot.”

“Any time,” Kurt mumbles, surprised when he realizes he means it. “Are you… Going to be alright?”

Blaine’s lip quivers for half a second before he pulls himself together and smiles brightly. Kurt can’t be fooled by that, it was his entire high school career summed up in a facial expression.

“I’ll figure it out.” He says.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Kurt trails off, hoping he won’t actually have to ask.

“I… uh, my house isn’t really my house anymore, so…” Blaine explains, smile dropping. So Kurt was right.

“Do you know where you’re going to stay?” Kurt asks, more impulsive than anything he’s ever done.

“No,” Blaine admits, frowning, “but I bet I can find somewhere eventually. You just bought me a few extra days to figure things out, so thank you.” He holds up his bags of groceries.

“Why aren’t you living at your house anymore?” Kurt presses. It isn’t like him, but he feels like all of a sudden he needs to know. “You’re in high school, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Blaine nods, then looks down, “I… my parents weren’t very happy when I told them the reason I wouldn’t be dating my best friend any time soon was because she was a girl.”

“Could you stay with her? Your friend, I mean.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I don’t think so, no. Her parents would never go for it, they’d probably have the same reaction mine did, and… I don’t really want to see that twice in one day.”

“Of course,” Kurt says with a sigh. “I sometimes forget how lucky I was. My dad was okay with me.”

Blaine looks up at him with wide eyes and Kurt feels the shift in the atmosphere: somehow, they’re allies now.

“I don’t feel right about just leaving you to your own devices.” Kurt says. He feels bold and maybe a little colourful and maybe even a little light. Blaine’s expression turns to one of guarded hope.

“I have a couch. It’s not a pull-out or anything and it’s kind of old, but it’s really squishy and comfortable, and if you want a place to stay, this is me offering.”

Kurt doesn’t know what he might be getting himself into, but for the first time in a long time, he’s really excited to find out.