Chapter 6

Author's Note: Hello. Yes, this story is still alive, put away your AED. I hope you like the chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'. DOUBLE NEGATIVE!

A tense silence filled the dining room the next morning, broken only by the clink of silverware on dishes. Carol had made eggs and sausages and toast. It was a lovely breakfast, and Wes, David, Finn and the cook herself were enjoying the food. Not Blaine. His empty plate sat in front of him as he stared at the unoccupied chair at the other end of the table.

Kurt hadn't come down for breakfast.

Although he tried to fight it down, the feeling of bitter disappointment came up in Blaine's throat. He really wanted to talk to Kurt. To explain to him. To get to know him.

But, really, didn't have a right to be disappointed. He didn't expect Kurt to trust him right away. Plus, Blaine hadn't had much experience with making conversation. He hadn't talked to anyone but his servants in two years. Of course Kurt didn't want to have breakfast with him. But, still, the cursed boy couldn't shake the unbearable wish for Kurt to like him.

But who could like (never mind love) a beast?

Blaine forcefully got up, startling the other people in the room when his chair scraped across the floor. "Why isn't he here?" he demanded to no one in particular, trying to keep those damn emotions out of his voice, "He said he would come down for breakfast!"

"Maybe he slept in…" Finn offered.

He didn't sleep in. Blaine doubted that he slept at all.

However, the seventeen-year-old didn't want to lash out at Finn. The boy was so infuriatingly optimistic that it made Blaine want to scream, but he didn't deserve any harsh words. So, instead, Blaine muttered, "Maybe," and then left the room before he could ruin another morning for everyone else.

He made his way up the stairs and then down the hall to his bedroom, where he threw back the curtains and stared out the window, fighting back the self-loathing that made him want to shatter the mirror on the wall over there that prevented him from pretending he was normal. It was getting harder and harder to pretend, to hope, when his eighteenth birthday was quickly approaching, like the lights of a speeding train…and he was tied to the tracks.

Kurt didn't get much sleep that night. The sounds of the howling wind and rain against his window combined with the worry for himself and his dad kept him awake like a splash of water to the face every hour. It seemed like the night lasted forever but, before he knew it, the room around him grew gradually brighter as it entered the hours of dawn. Kurt sat up in bed, going to the dresser to find something to wear. Carol had filled it with some of Finn's old clothes for him.

His eyes felt like they were filled with sand, and he rubbed them harshly every few minutes. Wearing a dark purple T-shirt and some jeans rolled up at the ankles, he made his way to the small dresser against the wall. It had a built-in mirror and Kurt cringed a little at his reflection. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying and lack of sleep, there were dark shadows underneath them, and his hair was tousled and matted from the rain and a restless night. He looked like shit.

Kurt made his way into the bathroom and washed his face, brushing his teeth and running a comb through his hair until he looked half-ways presentable. He walked past the dresser once more on his way out, but something caught his eye before he could leave. There was something sticking out of the darkness underneath the wooden furniture.

Kneeling down, the blue-eyed boy reached under the dresser until he grasped the mystery object, pulling it out to inspect. It was a photograph, covered in a thin layer of dust. Kurt brushed it off and looked at it in curiosity.

It was one of those pictures that a family takes together, where they're dressed in their best and placed together by the photographer in order to look orderly and semi-natural. There were three people in the picture; a mother, a father and a son.

The woman was sitting down on a chair, her long legs crossed under a dark red dress. The man was standing stiffly behind her, hands clasped in front of him and wearing a dark blue suit. However, it was the boy that drew Kurt's attention. He was the only one in the photo who actually looked at ease. While his parents were awkward and barely-smiling, the boy had a grin that lit up his whole face. He was standing by the arm of his mother's chair, wearing a blue shirt, red pants and a bowtie. He looked to be about fourteen years old, with curly hair and deep hazel eyes.

Kurt was curious. Who were these people and why was their picture under this dresser? Shrugging slightly, Kurt slid the photograph into his pants pocket and made his way out of his new bedroom. He was late to breakfast on purpose, but he was getting a little too hungry to resist much longer.

Carol looked up in surprise as Kurt entered the dining room. She was just cleaning up all the dishes from the table. "Sorry," Kurt muttered, looking down at his rolled-up jeans, "I know I'm really late."

"Oh, that's no problem at all, sweetheart," Carol said, stopping what she was doing. "I actually saved you a plate, just let me warm it up."

Kurt slowly sat down at the table and waited until Carol came back with his food, trying not to eat like he was as hungry as he was. "You know," Carol said conversationally as she continued to clean up, "Blaine wished you would've come down to eat with the rest of us."

"I'm sure he did," Kurt said, piling his eggs onto his toast and faintly wondering how his dad was this morning.

Carol sighed and sat in the seat next to the tired boy. "He's not a bad person, I promise," she said softly, and Kurt looked up at her, looking like he wanted to believe her, but didn't.

"He's going to have to convince me otherwise, then," Kurt muttered, feeling bad when the woman beside him looked very sad. Suddenly, he remembered the photograph. He pulled it out of his pocket. "Hey, Carol, do you know who these people are?" he asked her, placing the picture on the table in front of her.

She gasped, picking it up gingerly. However, Kurt noticed the indecision on her face and realized that when she spoke to him she was keeping something from him. "They own the house, dear."

"What? Where are they, then?"

She bit her lip. "Finish your breakfast, dear," she said, and Kurt continued to eat while she explained. "They don't come around, anymore. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson packed up and left two years ago."

Kurt finishes off his plate and pushes it away from him slightly. "Why? And, what about the boy there? Where is he?"

"He never left."

The boy's brow furrowed, "You mean he still lives here?" When Carol nodded, Kurt mentally ran through everyone he had seen around the house but he couldn't remember seeing the boy in the picture. "I haven't seen him."

"No, you have. He just doesn't look like that, anymore." Kurt was confused and Carol's eyes were filled with sadness, so he didn't want to push. Carol took pity on him and gave him some information, though. "This boy," she said, gently tapping the photo, "This is who Blaine used to be." There were a million questions swimming in Kurt's blue eyes, but Carol got up before he could ask any of them. "That's all I'm saying, Kurt. If you want any more answers, I suggest you talk to him yourself."

With that, she left the room.

Author's Second Note: Sorry, once again, for the late update and the short chapter. I hope you guys still like this story. Please review? Also, could you let me know which POV you like more: Blaine or Kurt. I'm going to have both POVs in this story, obviously. But I can have more of one than the other if you guys have a collective preference. xoxo

Take care.

-Patricia Sage