Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
Blaine Anderson had killed his father.
He was cold. His cell was cold, his body was cold, and his blood ran colder with every bang, footstep and murmur he heard through the darkness. Never had Blaine experienced fear like this; afraid of tomorrow, afraid of next week, more and more frightened with every passing second. He couldn't shut his eyes for more then a few seconds, plagued by visions of someone… something coming to get him. Blaine may have had a few muscles, but he was small. They were going to eat him alive, he knew it.
Just as sleep was slowly starting to pull Blaine under, a blood curdling, agonising scream from several cells down jolted him awake again. He pulled the paper-thin quilt up to his neck, shaking but no longer from the cold. He glanced over through the bars as a couple of guards were dragging away the man who screamed. Blaine didn't know if he was unconscious or dead, but he could smell the blood…
Forget twelve years, he wasn't going to last the day…
Blaine didn't know what time he eventually fell asleep, but next thing he knew morning had arrived, and a loud, shrill alarm was blasting in his ears, snapping him out of his sleepy haze. He blinked until his vision cleared… and remembered where he was. It was like a hand was grasping his heart, gripping it stopping it pumping. No… no, no, please no… not now… not now. Blaine stared desperately around his cell; there must be just one way out… a hidden tunnel? Hiding under the bed? Anything, but he couldn't go out there…
"… New, huh?" a voice questioned. Blaine all but screamed. Another guy was sat across from him, looking calm and relaxed, sporting the bed-head look.
"… I…" Blaine stared at him, taken aback by both his presence and his smooth exterior, despite the great gash across his forehead. He was smiling softly, his posture at ease, his bright blue eyes kind and gentle.
"Oh, made you jump did I?" he laughed, "Sorry. I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel. Your new cellmate." He stood and offered Blaine his hand, which Blaine shook.
"Hey, I'm, er… Blaine. I'm Blaine." Blaine stammered, suddenly feeling very self conscious. He tried to smooth his hair down, but without his hair gel it was a battle he'd never win.
Kurt tilted his head to the side, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem like the kind of guy who requires a little gel?" Blaine blinked, could he read his mind?
"Well… yeah." Blaine sighed, gaze dropping to the floor.
"Don't worry about it," Kurt smiled, "the lack of hair product has taken a much worse effect on others. Ever seen a girl with her roots showing?" Blaine nodded, "Well imagine a guy with blonde ends, with brown roots reaching down to his ears." They both laughed.
"Wow…" Blaine shook his head, feeling a little more at ease. There was something about Kurt's relaxed exterior and light smile which just… melted away his previous worries. A long beep sounded, and the bars moved aside, allowing access out of the cells. Blaine looked up as prisoners in orange jumpsuits passed his cell (many with shaved heads, bulging muscles, tattoos etc) and the crushing fear made a reappearance. He looked to Kurt, his face the picture of terror, desperate for some comfort or… anything.
Kurt's smile faded a little, he edged a little closer to Blaine, "Now listen to me, don't make eye contact. Don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone, and don't touch anyone. Don't draw attention to yourself, be invisible. Eat quickly, and meet me in the exercise yard, okay? I know a little spot behind the equipment shed, you'll know it when you see it." and before Blaine could respond, Kurt jumped up and hurried off, disappearing into the sea of prisoners.
Blaine stayed on his bed, waiting patiently for the small corridor was clear. Eventually, the crowd thinned out and cleared. He considered waiting just a few more minutes, when a burley looking guard banged on the bars, "Oi! Get up!" he shouted, and Blaine scurried out. The corridor was as dull and cold as the cell, and seemed to stretch on forever with endless cells. Blaine took small, shakey steps down the corridor, head down. He felt like he was walking to the gallows.
Eventually, he reached a large door, which was heavy and took a lot of effort to push open. He stepped inside and found himself in a large hall, filled with wooden tables and plastic chairs upon which sat hundreds of prisoners, all eating and talking and arguing and spitting and arm wrestling. Just as Blaine was scanning the room for Kurt, the door slammed shut behind him, the loud bang echoed throughout the whole room. Silence fell and every head turned to look at Blaine, their expressions unreadable. Blaine was frozen, he could feel his face burning and his hands shaking. So much for 'not drawing attention to himself' and 'being invisible'. Blaine spotted the line for the food amongst the sea of prisoners, and slowly made his way towards it, every eye in the room fixed on him. He reached the line, and the other prisoners turned away, the room returning to normal. No one in the line looked at Blaine; they simply pretended he wasn't there. A few minutes later Blaine retrieved his measly breakfast (a bowl of porridge and two slices of bread) and moved over to an empty table. As he ate, he spotted Kurt on another table. The table was full, with eight people in total. Four of them were engaging in what seemed to be a very serious yet hilarious conversation, whilst the others (Kurt included) were sitting straight and silent. Kurt looked up and caught Blaine's eye, and Blaine smiled, giving him a little wave. Kurt's eyes widened, and his head gave a tiny shake, before his gaze dropped back to the table. Blaine blinked, confused. Was Kurt… embarrassed? Unbelievable! So what if he had made a really really really bad first impression on the entire prison, Kurt was his cellmate! Wasn't there some kind of prison code against this? Blaine slumped down, picking at his remaining slice of bread, feeling even worse then before.
Despite the fact he was in prison, Blaine couldn't help but marvel at how nice a day it was. The sky was a perfect blue, virtually cloudless, the sun beating down and heating up the sandy ground of the exercise yard. Kurt was right, the area behind the shed was empty, and Blaine was grateful for it. Since the fiasco at breakfast, he was keen to keep out of the way of the other prisoners. He enjoyed the privacy as he waited for Kurt, he sat down and leaned back against the shed, unzipping his jump suit and sliding out of the top half, so he was wearing only a gray tank top and the bottom half of the jump suit, tying the arms around his waist. He stretched out his legs, and proceeded to wait. A minute past. Then ten minutes past. Half an hour. Another half on hour. Kurt didn't show up. Blaine was getting a little upset, 'where is he? Did something happen?' but then… he realized. Kurt didn't want to go near him, he didn't want people associating them together for fear it'd ruin whatever prison cred he had. Blaine even got up and peaked behind the shed, and he saw Kurt. He was with the same group from breakfast, leaning against the prison wall as they watched a group of prisoners play basketball. One of the guys in the group had his arm around Kurt's shoulders, his fingers making lazy circles on Kurt's arm. Blaine felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, and then stabbed in the chest. Even though Kurt was sat ramrod straight with a completely neutral expression, he was allowing this guy to touch him in this way. Blaine couldn't bare it any longer, and turned away, tucking his legs up to his chest and hugging them. Why was he so upset? Was it because Kurt promised that he'd meet him here but instead wanted to hang out with his 'boyfriend'? Was it the fact that Kurt had a boyfriend? That Kurt lied? That Kurt didn't want to be seen with him? Blaine didn't know… but continued to question himself as the alarm sounded, signalling the end of exercise. He didn't see Kurt again for the rest of the day.