Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I am merely a creepy stalker who will settle with the label 'obsessive fangirl'.

Not Alone

AN: I think I'm overkilling this 'not alone' business as noticed with my last fanfiction. However, this one takes it one with a darker tone that I had wanted to do for a while. This is written from personal experience except I only wish I had someone to go to. However, bless my sister for being alive. If anyone, this is written for her.

He stepped into his room quietly, the same room he remembered to be his so long ago. Half of his mind tried to remember who he was; the other half was flying back into the past. A ghost of himself touched his spin and wrapped its cold arms around his stomach making him kneel over in shock and fall against the wall in silent sobs.

He pulled his hands around his ears and waited for the sounds to stop.

How could he be pulled back into the madness? How could he lose himself so easily? The wall he built around himself like a padding that could keep their screams from hurting his gentle soul had been pulled down by… No—he shouldn't blame Kurt. He shouldn't but he couldn't help it. He hated himself for thinking it.

He had to pull down his walls to love; however, at the same time, it also caused him to be vulnerable once again to the hate thrown around this large, empty, cold house he grew up in.

Blaine rush over to his bag, digging through books and pens frantically, desperately searching. A slamming of a door and screamed caused him to jump and he pulled his stuff into a corner as though being surrounded could protect him against the madness.

Finally, his fingers wrapped around his phone and let the rest of the bag drop onto the floor before him. Items scattered around him. He gripped onto it like it was a lifeline. His fingers were shaking and he was surprised by the drop of tear that fell on the screen. He didn't know he was crying. With cold fingers, he whipped the moisture away frantically.

He rubbed his fingers and then pulled up his text, flipped through the numbers until he had that one word that seemed to pull a veil of warmth around his heart. His fingers flew across the keys blindly. (How are you?) was all he texted. But it didn't matter what he wrote. He needed a lifeline outside this house. He needed someone to response to assure to him that he wasn't alone.

Another scream could be heard. His mother was crying downstairs now. There were screams of divorce. He should be used to it by now. They talked about it so much. But he couldn't keep his body from shaking.

His phone buzzed a reply and he took it into his hands and held it against his chest. He felt warmth and reassurance from the light that glowed gently from the screen. His hungry eyes glanced over the text and a sad expression crossed his eyes.

(Doing great! How are you?) Kurt replied.

He breathed slowly as though the action itself was painful. The phone kept shaking in his cold hands. He pressed his head against the wall besides him. Logical thought warned him to keep from dragging Kurt into this mess, into his madness. He should be supporting the boy, keeping him from feeling anything sad ever again. However, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't keep his fingers from typing. (parents driving me crazy)

He shouldn't be leaning on Kurt. He shouldn't but he reasoned that every parent could drive their kid insane. It's not too bad.

His phone buzzed again. It was starting to calm him down. (what are they doing?)

He touched his phone. He closed it and willed himself not to do it again. He knew what he wanted to do; he knew what he wanted to type. But before his mind could catch up to his actions, (I can hear them fighting think my moms crying) he paused and a shaking finger hovered over the send button. But he couldn't push it. He put the phone down on the carpet quietly and stared at the text. Another scream was heard and he wrapped himself into a ball. A finger reached out to push send.

'Stop' he heard himself mouth as he closed his eyes and hands were pulled, pressed against his ear. However, a second later, he snapped them open again. The darkness was worse. It made the sounds louder. It made it worse. He wrapped his jacket around himself tighter.

A buzz from his phone. (can I call you?)

Kurt got it. Blaine knew he suddenly understood what he was up against. Blaine didn't know what to do. He couldn't do this to the boy. It wasn't fair. Kurt just went through all that hell in his old school. He didn't need to find out his support system was threatening to collapse on itself. But his mind reasoned that it was too late. Kurt knew.

Two things happened at the same time. One, his phone started to ring in soft buzzing sounds on its silent mode. The monitor read noticeably 'Kurt'. Two, his door opened. His heart clenched painfully. He dreaded to see who it was. He dreaded that it was his dad. He dreaded.

He pushed a button on his phone to hang up on the caller then waited.

However, it was his who sister appeared and he let out the breath he was holding. They looked at each other for a quiet moment. She did not bright light to the fact he was sitting in a corner with his things around him as though enclosing him into the walls. She stepped over to him and slowly moved his bag a foot away from him. She then kneeled before him and looked at him with an equally pained expression and held out her hands which he placed his in. Then, without a word, she pulled him towards her hugged him. He buried his head into her shoulder and they gathered strength from each other.

He was vaguely away of his phone buzzing again with a text. (Are you okay? Please call me.) However, his sister noticed and she slowly removed himself from Blaine. She placed a comforting hand on his cheek before turning to pick his phone off the ground. Without a word, she slipped it into his hand. "Happy New Year," she whispered softly and reassuringly before smiling and leaving the room, pulling the door securely back close because she understood.

He looked down at the phone and pressed his forehead against the cold surface of the screen. He breathed out a shaky breath, trying to regain some of his composure. He brushed the moisture from his cheeks and took a deep breath in. However, the next second, a slow tear escaped and rolled quietly down. He looked up, tilting his head and pressing it against the wall behind him trying to find his familiar control, the one that came to him to easily back at Dalton.

His phone buzzed again and he took a slow breath in. Slowly, he took up the phone and picked up. He closed his eyes for a moment before managing to reply. "Hello?" The sound of his voice was foreign to him. It sounded worse than he imagined and he wished he could sound more like himself. He wished Kurt wasn't listening on the other end.

But Kurt was. Blaine heard his sweet, endearing voice filter through the phone and felt his heart beat in a long delayed relief. "Blaine," was all Kurt said but it was all Blaine needed to hear, all he wanted.

"Hey," now his voice was steadier. Now his hands were shaking less. He leaned against the wall, realizing how tired he felt.

"Um," he knew Kurt was struggling to say the right thing but anything would be the right thing to Blaine because all Blaine wanted to hear was his voice, "are you okay?"

Blaine couldn't answer that question. He couldn't lie; he didn't want to lie. However, at the same time, he didn't want the other boy to know the truth. No, he wasn't okay. He was as far from okay he has been in a very long time. He was hurting. He was breaking and he wasn't sure how to gather all the pieces back together again. He was afraid that wall he and Kurt managed to peal down would find its way back up again and he would be alone again. "I'm—I just wanted to talk to someone."

There was a moment of silence and a thick pause as though Kurt was considering his words. He felt guilty for doing this to Kurt, for calling him up. However, before Blaine could immerse himself too deeply, Kurt responded. "I miss you."

Blaine felt himself smile and he felt his heart melt. Then, he heard mutters outside this comfort Kurt had unknowingly helped him build around himself. He realized his sister was talking to his parents to defuse the situation. Bless her for being alive and with him for all these years. He let his arms slack slightly as though a heavy weight was being pulled off him and supported by these people he was lucky to have with him. "I miss you too. I miss Dalton."

"Just a few more days."

"We should go see Wicked when we get back." He braced his arm against his knees and let his eyes droop. It was bliss to take his mind off 'now'. He imagined being back at Dalton and quietly longed for it.

"Only if you let me dress you. I remember what you wore last time."

He had to chuckle weakly at that. "I wore my uniform."

"Exactly. No one wants a one trick pony."

He felt his lips cruel in a genuine smile, all his worries being washed away by those witty words. He did his best to ignore the sounds outside his room and push it out of his mind. The only thing he willed himself to focus on was Kurt. But, at the same time, he couldn't help but tense at the sound of every mutter he hears, fearing it would escalate. "You got yourself a date then. Breadsticks after?"

"Of course," Blaine could heart Kurt's tone grow more enthusiastic as he spoke. He was glad the boy was not affected so much and he felt himself rising to the lively tone that was easing him out of the painful silence in his room. "I've recently found out that they are legally forced to serve endless breadsticks. I think Santana rolled in a barrel once and told them to fill it up with breadstick. They refused and she called the manager. Well, the guy was fired."

"You're kidding," there was laughter in his voice now. "We should try that next time. Imagine the warblers when we come to next practice with a barrel of breadsticks."

"In that case, we might need more than one barrel."

And on that note, he fell into an easy conversation with Kurt. It was like talking to the other boy was slowly allowing the Blaine he knew himself to be to return slowly. He placed his bag neatly back at the foot of his bed as they talked and reorganize all the paper that had fallen out. He pulled his jacket off and draped it against his chair. He fixed his hair and whipped his face. He fell back into place on his chair in front of his desk and couldn't remove the smile from his lips.

They talked for two hours about everything and anything. Half of it Blaine was sure not to remember but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Kurt's lively and wonderfully bright voice pushed all the negative thoughts away from his mind. He knew that if he wasn't on the phone, he would have been hurting himself by breaking his own confidence and destroying what he had worked so hard to build. And he felt lucky to be the one being saved this time.

"Ugh," he heard Kurt mutter as he pulled the phone from him evident by the rustling and the sound of Kurt yelling something probably to his family.

"Do you need to go?" He heard Kurt hesitate and he smiled. "Don't worry. You already spend the last two hours with me. I'm pretty sure you healed and erased whatever trauma I received today."

"I'll call you later?"

"Text me later and I'll call you tomorrow," Blaine replied in a reassuring tone.

"Alright," he finally heard the other boy agree almost reluctantly. And just as Blaine was ready to mutter his goodbyes, Kurt continued. "And uh… I know you said this to me once and it helped me a lot so I'm going to use your own sage advice. I just wanted you to know that… you're not alone and you are now required to call or text me whenever you feel down."

Blaine felt himself smile softly. "You got it."

"I'm holding you to that," Blaine could imagine Kurt's stance, one arm crossed across his body, the other held up confidently, and that strong, expecting gaze. "Alright. I'll talk to you later then. I got to go before they send Finn down here. Have a good night and happy new year."

"You too. Bye," he trailed off as he heard a soft click and the phone went silent.

He let himself sit quietly on his bed for a moment before standing up and walking to his door. He paused, tracing the frame for a moment before pulling it open. He walked to the door next to him and pushed it open slowly and quietly. As he poked his head it, he smiled when seeing his sister propped up in a sitting position on her bed watching TV.

She smiled in response and patted the empty spot next to her. He closed the door behind him before crossing the room lying down next to her on the large bed, facing away from her and placing his phone next to him. There was nothing spoken between them. Instead, he felt himself being lulled to sleep by her presence the laughter muttered out from the TV as his sister continued watched the nighttime reruns of Friends.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, the buzz of his phone woke him up to the sounds of Family Guy on the TV. He reached out to glance at the screen. (Courage.) He leaned his head back down on the pillow and smiled.

"Who is that?" he heard his sister question softly over the sound of the TV.

"Kurt." He sighed lightly and stared at the text message, "I'm in love with him and he's actually gay."

AN: I hope you enjoyed it. For anyone who feels alone or in a bad situation, you're not alone. There are people out there who understand. So my heart goes out to you all.

Again, sorry if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes because I'm terrible when it comes to that. I seem to be blind to bad grammar. Anyways, if there are mistakes, I hope it doesn't take away from the story for you.

Reviews are loved. PMs welcome. Emails welcome.