On My Own

Without him

The world around me changes

The trees are bare and everywhere

The streets are full of strangers

I love him...

Without me

His world will go on turning...

I love him.

On My Own – Les Miserables

He'd thought that he would die at the hands of his Father. Never in a million years did he think that the universe would have it in for him so badly as to turn his own body against him. He thought that he might actually have a chance to survive the year. He thought he would have a chance to make it out of Ohio once and for all. That all important chance that would inevitably have him living in the safety of Kurt's arms for the rest of their lives.

That chance had all but disappeared with one simple word from Doctor Benson's mouth. Leukaemia. Ironically it appeared that even his body knew that he would have no chance of reaching his dreams.

All he wanted was Kurt's arms wrapped around him making him feel safe and loved once more, Kurt to be whispering sweet nothings in his ear and letting him know everything would be right again soon with the world. Even that seemed like a far off fantasy since Kurt had followed his dreams to the city that never sleeps, leaving Blaine alone in Lima. Kurt, who no longer picked up his phone calls or who cut him off before he let the blue eyed boy know just how much he truly loved him.

Kurt.

He had his whole life ahead of him. Something that Blaine could no longer guarantee for himself. Rolling back one of his sleeves, he hissed in pain as it dragged over the recent cigarette burn his father had left that morning as a reminder of how worthless he was. Pressing his fingers lightly to his skin, he watched with morbid curiosity as finger shaped bruising already took hold of the too pale skin. With a shaky sigh, he yanked down the sleeve of his shirt and sunk back into the couch cushions running his hands over his face as he willed himself not to cry.

Amber eyes flying open at the sound of car doors closing, Blaine flinched as the heavy front door slammed open, crashing against the wall. Eyeing the doorway, he knew there was no way he'd be able to escape in time.

"YOU! Get out of my sight now!" His Father roared as he burst through the double doors to the living room, his mother sneering at the tiny teenager as she followed behind the taller man.

Biting hard on his bottom lip to keep the whimpers of terror from escaping his throat, Blaine quickly gathered the letters telling him of his illness and all the possible treatments he may have to face over the coming months and years. Stumbling across the room, he kept his eyes low avoiding looking at either of his parents as he hurried passed them.

Feeling a hand clasp painfully around his upper arm, Blaine winced and instantly stilled his movements sucking in a steadying breath whilst attempting to keep his trembling legs from crumpling under him. Within seconds he felt his entire body be hurled back against the open door, an old wound on his head instantly splitting open as his head connected with the oak door, sticky blood seeping into his flattened curls, the gel mixing into the cut making him grimace in pain. Snapping his eyes open, he tried to get them to focus by watching his Mother open a new bottle of Bourbon, pouring two large glasses out.

He whined softly when all of the air was forced from his lungs, his Father pressing him closer to the doo, the alcoholic fumes from his breath winding around Blaine's head. "You're worthless Blaine. You. Are. Nothing," He hissed, leaning close to Blaine's ear. "Nobody wants you. Nobody will ever want you. Not even that faggy boyfriend of yours wants you. Even he left you all alone, hmmm? And you're no son of mine or of your Mother's. The world would just be so much better off without you existing in it." Wrapping one hand around Blaine's neck he smirked, squeezing forcefully once. "Wouldn't it?" He whispered before releasing the spluttering boy, stalking over to his Bourbon and his sniggering wife.

Still coughing, Blaine scrambled through the large house and up the winding staircase before managing to lock himself in his room. Breathing heavily, he rushed to his bathroom to treat the cut on the back of his head for the third time in two days.

Washing the gel out of his curls he sighed as the water turned a pinky colour before a shocking blood red against the startlingly white basin. Whimpering, he let his fingers find the cut on the back of his head, pushing the now wet curls away from it. He carefully found the tape and cotton wool pads, knowing full well he'd have to change the dressing within a few hours.

Slinking back into his room, he made sure that he double locked the door before collapsing onto his bed, letters from the hospital wrinkling under him, tears coursing like rivers down his cheeks. Rolling onto his side, a soft sob fell from his lips when he came face to face with the stunning sapphire eyes that meant so much to him.

Picking up the picture frame he held it close, his eyes flickering over Kurt's messed up hair, his arms wrapped around Blaine's petite waist, chin hooked over his shoulder. Blaine meanwhile had one hand resting on top of Kurt's where they clasped together, the other reaching out in order to take the picture, his face turned to the side to kiss Kurt's cheek while his boyfriend wore a look of shocked delight. The happy carefree attitude of both boys' shone out from the photo, their faces shining with love and Kurt's eyes twinkling with happiness, Blaine's own covered by his dark Ray-Bans.

Yanking his phone from his pocket, Blaine held the picture close to his heart, blissful memories of the week he had spent in California with the Hudson-Hummel's over the summer flickering through his mind. Dialling number one on his speed dial, he held the frame closer. "Come on Kurt, please, please pick up, just this once please Kurt." Blaine let loose a violent sob when Kurt's voicemail rang out. Without leaving a message he hung up, rolling onto his back once more.

"I need you," He whispered brokenly.

Turning to put the picture back on his bedside table, Blaine caught sight of himself in the full length mirror hanging to the side of his bed and gasped loudly. His tears had washed away all of the cover up and stage makeup he had lathered on that morning for school, the large black bruises seemed to shine out extra bright around both eyes in contrast to the pale skin surrounding them. His cheeks were red and splotchy, stained with tear tracks. Peeling off his red button up, he winced as the skin that came into view around his undershirt seemed to be either ridiculously pale, a sickly yellow colour or dark purple, with the occasional red marks from cuts or cigarette burns.

Legs now dangling over the edge of the bed, he let his eyes fall closed and his face fall into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Sobs shook his small frame as he realised what a mess he had become over the previous weeks. Trembling fingers pushing his unruly curls from his eyes, he glanced at the mirror once more, an image of a broken boy staring straight back at him. Feeling anger surge through his veins, Blaine grabbed his nearest textbook and hurled it at the mirror, watching it shatter into a million different pieces.

Running his hands through his damp curls again he abruptly stood and started pacing on the other side of his room, mumbling under his breath. He knew that he needed to protect Kurt somehow. Whether that was to protect him from his Father, himself or what the future held for the youngest Anderson the amber eyed boy wasn't sure. There was a possibility that if Kurt turned up at the doorstep, his Father could hurt him to get back at Blaine. There was the possibility of Blaine's anger at his situation turning and the last thing he wanted ever was to hurt Kurt or someone close to him god forbid, not that he felt it could ever happen but if it was a possibility then that was the end, after all, he did share his Father's genes and lastly of course there was the horrific idea of Kurt having to sit there and watch him wither away to nothing. No, Blaine felt the similar need to protect Kurt and hide him away from anything that would lead him into harms way burning in him in the same way that it had when he first saw the shell of the boy Kurt had become sat in front of himself, Wes and David at a table in the Dalton common room looking scared, lost and alone. There was no way that he would allow himself to be responsible for the re-emergence of that Kurt. Blaine's focus had now shifted to making sure that Kurt followed his dreams and was safe from the turmoil of hell Blaine's life was slowly descending into.

Flopping onto his bed once more, Blaine exhaled heavily, a shuddering breath leaving his body at the sharp pain that radiated throughout his ribs reminding him all too painfully that at least one of them was probably broken. Taking as deep a breath as his lungs would currently allow, Blaine reached out a hand to slam the picture of himself and Kurt facedown on his bedside table and ran the other shaking hand through his curls. "I love you Kurt," He murmured quietly as he pulled his laptop onto his lap. Grabbing his wallet, he pulled out the card that held the access to the large trust fund his grandparents had set up for him before they died while he was still a baby, knowing all too well that he was in for hell when his Father realised it was missing from his own wallet. Chewing his bottom lip nervously, he logged onto the airports website and slowly typed in his details with quivering hands, booking a life changing flight to New York City.

He stared out of the window as the lights of the big city started to come into view on the horizon, his stomach tying itself into knots as he held back the choking sobs that threatened to wrack his body. Soon there would be no more Kurt-and-Blaine, no more 'Klaine' as their friends had dubbed them. He would be Blaine. Just Blaine. No other half. His mind was still reeling with thoughts on how to do it though, he knew that Kurt was unlikely to let go too easily therefore Blaine was going to have to hurt him beyond anything they could repair as a couple. A tear slowly made a track down his cheek as he swiped it away angrily.

Glancing to his carry on, he gently pushed the stage make up that threatened to spill from the bag back in, reminding himself that he had better touch up on everything before leaving the airport. He smiled politely at the airhostess as she passed by, a worried look gracing her face as she attempted to smile back at the lone teenager sat in business class looking more than a little lost.

Blaine startled as the intercom crackled into life, disturbing him from the memories that had been playing as a reel around his head starting with a timid 'excuse me' at the bottom of a staircase and ending with him sneaking out of the house with his bag whilst praying his parents wouldn't wake from their alcohol induced slumber. They wouldn't miss him for a few days anyway, only when they realised that their favourite punching bag was missing would they realise and that was why he knew he had to go back, there were no guarantees that they wouldn't track Kurt down if he stayed in the safety of his boyfriend's arms in New York. Sighing, he tilted his head to listen as the Captain's voice sputtered slightly.

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain Eli Carter. We will momentarily be beginning our descent into New York so please fasten your seatbelts and put all seatbacks upright in preparation. Thank you."

"And thank you for bringing me to the end of my world Eli Carter," Blaine muttered bitterly, snapping his seat belt closed and resting his forehead against the window, his eyes flickering closed to keep his tears at bay.