Blaine had never been much of a runner. He was lacrosse, tennis, badminton - not running. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, he wanted to run - to run into the dark, the black, until there was nothing left but the sound of his harsh, desperate breathing, panting breaths that distracted from the swirling emotions twisting his stomach and making him want to sob.

“Blaine - get the hell out of here! Run! Run!”He hesitated. His hands shook, his eyes widened, and that’s all that they needed.

-He doesn’t transfer to Dalton right away. It takes time; he has to prove his worth, prove that he is smart enough, polite enough, strong enough to handle the pressures of the academic world that the Academy offers. He has to prove that he can handle the pressure and the fear, for just a little while longer, because perhaps then he might deserve the sanctuary of zero tolerance. He’s sitting in the corner of the library, eating his lunch, when Scott slumps down beside him. His wrist is still broken, just like Blaine’s nose, but they’re together in their pain; solidarity until the end.“How long?” Scott asks, his voice quiet, frightened. Blaine looks away, trying to pretend this wasn’t him abandoning Scott, trying to make believe that things would be fine for his friend when he left.“Next week. My uniform was delivered this morning. I have to wear a tie and a blazer.” They both laugh, humourlessly, the tension between them mounting. Blaine knows that the other boy is tired; sick of the dark looks and the twisted glares, the smirks that the boys that hurt them wear whenever they cross in the halls. It grates, breaks you down, and Blaine doesn’t think there’s much left to be broken - not in him, and not in Scott.“Must be nice,” Scott mutters, voice dark, and it stings Blaine down to his core. “To just - up and run away to some stupid preppy school where you can - can be safe.” And Blaine can tell he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean to be harsh and to beat Blaine when they’re both down, but at the same time it’s the truth. Blaine knows it like he knows how to breathe; this is what he’s doing. He’s running away, and his body stiffens as it washes over him like a cold shower. He feels Scott twist, trying to turn to Blaine and fix the hurt he whipped into Blaine’s skull, but it’s too late. The words are already there, like a brand over his heart - ran away.Scott doesn’t apologise, even though Blaine knows he wants to. You shouldn’t apologise for saying what’s in your heart (that’s what Blaine’s mother said, and he wondered if she would say the same when he brought home his first boyfriend) and there was no way Blaine could be angry at his friend; not for this. Not for the pain they both bore with false smiles and dark, angry bruises.“It’ll be over soon,” he whispered instead, voice hoarse as he bit back tears of shame and regret. “We’ll both be safe soon.”He didn’t really believe it. -Every click of his new, dark black shoes was like torture. It was like someone was screaming in his ears as he walked down the halls, the babble of the rest of the students drowned out behind ran, coward, pathetic, coward, coward, coward. Sometimes, at his locker, with people laughing and pressing and jostling around him, Blaine would put a hand on his heart and wonder, absently, if there weren’t words there; if, maybe, when he was changing for gym people could see ran away written over his skin. A telltale sign of his own weakness.Over time, it got better. The shame and torment of months past became memories, and Blaine felt the warmth of friendship soothe the hurts of the past. He wasn’t used to being greeted warmly in the hallways, or being taken to one side as someone asked for help on an assignment, but it became routine. He enjoyed it; he enjoyed knowing people needed him, that they saw through the agony and the pain and saw what he could be if he tried. So that’s what he did; he tried and he succeeded, he fit into the school like a puzzle piece, the missing corner that made up the whole puzzle. He wasn’t part of the heart of the school, always on the edge - never close enough to make true friends, to repeat mistakes - but close enough to be welcomed, and that was enough.But even that began to change.-“I ran, Kurt. I didn’t stand up. I let bullies chase me away, and it is something that I really, really regret.”He can see that Kurt doesn’t understand. He doesn’t realise how bad it was - that he ran, he damaged his friend, abandoned his friend, ran away from strength and courage into the walls of safety that Dalton offered. But here he was, telling this beautiful, broken boy to have the courage he never had. What right did he have?But he knew how it felt to regret, and he couldn’t see that regret in Kurt’s eyes. Not alongside the sadness and pain that already flickered there, a beacon crying out for someone to tell him things would get better.And when Kurt transferred Blaine thought, for a moment, that maybe he didn’t run away after all. Maybe, like Kurt, he did what was right.-It wasn’t until late June, almost two years after everything, that Blaine came face to face with his own anguish. He was sitting in his room, curled up with his boyfriend - his boyfriend - idly humming until Kurt sat up, pursing his lips a little. He quirked his eyebrow, amused. “Yes?”“Blaine… When we first met you said - you said you ran away, and you hated that. Why?” He freezes under Kurt’s hands, the warmth of his palm doing nothing to soothe him. He sits up, almost pulling away until Kurt tugs him back. “Please?” He whispers, and Blaine can do nothing but give into Kurt, as always.“I- the boy I went to the dance with, Scott. He couldn’t afford Dalton, there was no way. He was stuck there, and - and I just left. I ran away to this private school where I would be safe and sheltered, and I left him to suffer who knows what. We don’t even talk anymore. I don’t even know if he’s okay.” Kurt makes a soft noise, shifting up on the bed and drawing Blaine down, resting his boyfriend’s head against his chest.“That’s not running away,” Kurt replies, voice as soft as a whisper, his heartbeat louder to Blaine’s ears. “Blaine, that’s being locked in a cage and someone giving you the key to freedom. It’s not running away - I know it feels that way,” and he did, because Kurt had done it too, but Blaine had never thought he’d ran. “But I’m glad you did. I’m glad you found your freedom, because that way you found me, right?”Tucked against Kurt’s chest, warm and safe, Blaine couldn’t find any reason to disbelieve him.