A/N: Alright, another bit of 'A Collection of Klaine' put into actual chapters. Alright everyone, so nobody gets confused - this is my story. I haven't stolen it. It was originally in my large collection, and I've just changed where it lives.

Trigger Warning. Cutting and Anorexia, and Bulima.

Being alone was one of the worst things Blaine Anderson could imagine going through. But it's not like he had to imagine hard. He was virtually alone anyway.

He'd been through a lot – his father had made sure of that – but nothing could really compare to this. Sitting in the ward, alone, the white light burning behind his eyelids – it was a fate worse than death.

He'd been there for two weeks now, and he'd seen the variety of people that walked through its hallways.

There were the Suicidals – like himself – who were here because they sought out the one thing that would bring them true satisfaction – true escape from the hell they walked upon.

Then came the Anorexics – they were the thin, ghosts of people that walked around with sunken eyes, arms clutched around their mid-sections, hoping – praying - that they'd lost weight.

Then the Emotionally Distraught – those who'd suffered from abuse – the ones who were there because a mental institution was the one place they were guaranteed safety.

And then there were the few who were there because they just didn't fit in with society...and they were the ones that seemed to need the most help. They walked around like there was nothing wrong, but their cries at night seemed to say otherwise.

Blaine hated night-time the most. The wards weren't sound-proof and the walls were very thin, and it was so hard to ignore the stifled sobbing of those around him. Their cries haunted him and taunted him – they all beckoned for a release nobody was willing to give – a happy life.

To top it all off, Blaine had nobody to talk to.

The nurses were nice – but only when you took your meds and vacated your room at the right time. When you were stubborn, they were bitches on steroids. The others – the variety of people that had accumulated in his ward – were all at least three or four years older than he was.

Nobody talked to him – nobody really talked anyway – but he hadn't spoken since he got there – not in private therapy, not in group. For someone like Blaine – a singer, songwriter, artist and musician – that was a giant feat.

But he couldn't talk – not here – not with so many secrets he had to hide. He was certain that everyone knew his secrets already, but that meant nothing. Admitting it out loud made it far more real, and there was no way Blaine could handle that. Not yet. Not when he was certain he was one of the youngest. Sometimes he thought he might talk if there was someone around his age – with all of these older kids, Blaine just felt inadequate – like his problems were worth nothing next to theirs, because they were practically adults, while he was still this child.

Until that night.

It was late – around the time people stopped crying and actually made an effort to sleep – when a dim torch light shined into his ward.

There'd been an empty bed in his ward for a while now – directly opposite to Blaine's bed, the person who had vacated it having moved back home. Now, a roller bed was being moved in, and a boy about Blaine's age was lying in it – attached to a drip and a few other monitors.

In the dim light, Blaine could only assume he was one of the Anorexic's – according to his monitors - but he knew it was far too early to determine. He closed his eyes as the torch swept over him, feigning sleep.

"Go to sleep Blaine." His favourite nurse – Jessie – said gently. "You can meet him in the morning."

^.^

Blaine woke at dawn. This was one of the only times he liked – the air was crisp and clean – even in the ward, and the pale lights shined softly in through the window. He slipped from his bed, pulling back his curtain and finding the boy from last night still asleep – his curtain not having been drawn.

He was little, and as Blaine suspected, was an Anorexic. His ribs and arms protruded from his body even through the sheets, and his gaunt face seemed at unease, even while he slept. Blaine immediately felt sorry for the boy – yes, Blaine's life was inadequate, but to hate your own body – your own mindset - was a different matter. Blaine's one escape was his mindset – he couldn't imagine being that trapped.

He wanted to help him.

But he couldn't. He couldn't speak to him – he couldn't do anything, because Blaine knew it was hard to get people to understand. Why should this be any different?

But then again, having someone to talk to would be nice – Jessie was great to listen to, but she was still five years older than him, and she was still a nurse.

Blaine shook his head and continued to the bathroom. It was so complicated.

If he talked to the boy, what if he opened up? What would he do then? He was still running from his own demons, and to have to deal with ones that weren't his own – could he cope?

He stopped, glancing back at the boy and letting a smile escape his lips.

It couldn't hurt to try.

^.^

When Blaine returned from his shower, the boy was awake – silently crying. People were unashamed here. If they needed to cry, they did. They let it go and they didn't care who heard. But not Blaine, and not this boy.

Blaine swallowed hard, gathering his courage, and lifted his hand, wiggling his fingers slightly in a wave.

The boy watched Blaine steadily, his chin quivering slightly before nodding in reply.

Blaine supposed now was as great a time as any, so he stepped forward.

"Hi." He whispered, his voice catching slightly from the lack of use. "I'm Blaine."

"K-Kurt." The other boy stuttered, wiping at his face and grimacing as the movement pulled at the drip in his arm.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Blaine asked, nodding to the end of the bed.

Kurt shook his head slightly, and Blaine sat – and they sat there awkwardly for a little while.

"Kurt." Blaine finally said, tasting the word on his tongue, grinning. "That's a pretty cool name."

Kurt bit his lip and nodded slightly, his eyes closing.

"You've only just come out of hospital...haven't you?" Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded again. Blaine bit his lip, afraid he was pushing the other boy too far. "Sorry...I'll..."

He quickly climbed off the bed.

"Blaine!" Kurt said, his voice ringing out loud and clear for the first time. "Please...don't leave."

Blaine bit his lip, settling back on the end of the bed.

"So…um…there isn't really a lot to do around here." Blaine said, breaking the silence and trying to welcome him to the ward. "We mostly entertain ourselves unless we need to go to group or we have private therapy."

It was then that a nurse entered the section, interrupting their conversation and shooing Blaine back to his bed, so they could feed Kurt. Blaine pouted, waving to Kurt as he slid off the bed and hurried back across the room.

"Seeya soon!" Blaine called.

The last he saw of Kurt was the other boy's arms folded across his chest, glaring at the nurse.

Jessie was standing at his bed, eyes wide. "You're talking now?"

He grinned, hopping back up onto his bed. "Apparently."

She looked offended. "If I had known all it took was a pretty boy to sleep across from you, I would've given up on talking to you and found you someone sooner."

Blaine shook his head, ignoring her 'pretty boy' comment, a blush rising to his cheeks. So she knew?

"That's why you're my favourite, Jessie." He grinned. "You never stopped talking to me, even when I didn't reply. You actually treated me like a normal person."

She smiled. "You are normal, Blaine. You just got put in a bad situation."

^.^

Kurt was still confined to his bed – only allowed up for the bathroom. Otherwise he was strapped down with the IV firmly in his arm. He was receiving private therapy – Dr Miles would come to his section when everyone went for group therapy. Blaine had private therapy just after lunch, and then would go to group after dinner.

Kurt didn't actually mind being strapped all that much – he was tired a lot – and it gave him an excuse to sleep.

Blaine visited him after breakfast – then again after lunch. He was quickly growing fond of the other boy, and he could tell Kurt was getting to like him as well. In barely a day, they had already become friends.

"So...what are you in here for...?" Kurt had asked on the second day, and Blaine shot him a suspicious look.

"What are you in here for?"

Kurt recoiled and Blaine nodded. "Look...we're friends, Kurt...but until you can share your demons...I'm not willing to share mine."

Kurt nodded slightly, and the smile floated back to Blaine's face. "How much have you heard about this place?"

Kurt shrugged. "It's for people who are mentally unsound. At their weakest point. Crazy."

"Are you crazy?"

Kurt hesitated. "Still working that one out…Are you crazy?"

Blaine grinned. "Yeah. A little."

^.^

Over the next few days, Blaine entertained Kurt – both of them ignoring the other, older patients in the ward. They told jokes, shared stories, and spent a lot of time asking questions of each other. Nothing strayed too close to home though – anything leading up to why either of them was there was quickly avoided.

But Blaine knew.He'd seen every anorexia patient who had ever come through, and he knew that that was the reason Kurt was there. He had the IV full of fluids alongside the meals he had to eat to get his strength back up and the weight back on. His wrists were strapped to the bed so he couldn't shove them down his throat.

The symptoms were all there – now he just had to get Kurt to admit it.

But Kurt had a secret too. He knewwhy Blaine was there. He'd seen the bandages – they protruded from his clothes like large boulders, and sometimes his pyjama's would ride up and he would catch the full extent of them. He didn't know why – only that under those bandages were scars – cuts, burns, scratches and bruises – and now he was just waiting for Blaine to tell him.

But the biggest problem was waiting to see who would crack first.

Because Kurt was pretty damn sure that Blaine knew his problem.

And Blaine was almost certain that Kurt knew his problem too.