AN: This is basically Chapter 1 through Kurt's eyes with a bit of an extension towards the end. Of course, the whole fic is not going to be so repetitive. I just wanted to start the story on equal ground, and this is the way that I saw best fit. Chapter 3 and (possibly) Chapter 4 should be up by late tomorrow or early Saturday. My internet's been funny all night so we'll see. As usual, reviews make me happy and (just might) make me post faster. If I know you guys are liking it, I'll have more motivation to dish out writing. Feel free to provide criticism too. Feel free to drop by my tumblr ask ( ask) and leave some feedback, prompts, or suggestions. I don't bite! I hope you enjoy!

~ RandomKiwi

To say that Kurt Hummel was happy with himself would be stretching it. To say that he was happy with his life would be a complete and utter lie. The high school senior had endured four years of absolute hell, all of which did nothing but degrade his sense of hope for the future. It was about halfway through his senior year at McKinley and all was going… well. Or so he told everyone else.

Sure, The New Directions had made it to Nationals and things were looking up in that aspect of his life. Rehearsals were always a bit lighter, what with the optimism that graced the group. There was no doubt that they'd win Nationals – they had to. For the majority of them, this was their last chance to bring home that shining trophy and bring some sort of honor to their names before graduating and going their separate ways.

Kurt had been in Glee and even in the Cheerios for a while, but he'd never really made an impact on McKinley High. He'd never really made a difference in any of the students' lives, disregarding the fact that he provided the jocks with a laugh and a free punching bag, of course. Which was why, when his father brought up the fact that his mother's best friend's son would be staying with them for a while, Kurt felt a sense of hope… He finally had something to believe in.

In about an hour's discussion, Kurt had learned a few key things about Blaine. The most important was the fact that he was blind, though Kurt knew there was so much more to the other boy than that. Burt had elaborated to his son about Blaine's liking for music, pleasant attitude, and kind demeanor. Kurt found it curious though, how the Andersons were so well off but were still sending their son off to live with another family. Kurt began to question it, though his father said nothing. It wasn't for some sort of exile, right? Surely the Andersons wouldn't do that… His mother had been best friends with Anne-Marie Anderson, and though Kurt's memories of her were fleeting, she had seemed nice enough back then.

Kurt had spent all of the previous night rearranging and decorating the guest room, making sure everything looked flawless. He knew that Blaine wouldn't be able to see it, but it was the thought that counted and he'd feel awful if Blaine wasn't presented with the best they had to offer. Kurt was perfecting the last pillow – he'd rushed into the room early in the morning to finish – when the cab stopped in front of their house. He quickly flew down the stairs and exited the house, watching through sad eyes as the cab driver tossed the blind boy's bag to the side and sped off. He made it the rest of the way down the driveway, standing just behind the other boy.

Blaine was beautiful, positively gorgeous. With dark curls, olive skin, and a small yet muscular frame, he was definitely a feast for the eyes… Not that Kurt was thinking of him like that. He was still dressed in his Dalton uniform; it was clear that this change had been quite sudden and abrupt.

"Do you need help?" he asked softly, noticing the way the boy looked lost, scared, frightened… alone. He rested a gentle hand on Blaine's shoulder, his touch light against the fabric of Blaine's blazer.

"I… Yeah… Sorry… My bag," Blaine murmured quietly, ducking his head. It was almost as if he was embarrassed, ashamed of the fact that he couldn't see.

Kurt gave the other's shoulder a gentle reassuring squeeze. It seemed like he needed it. He then bent over and picked up the bag, which was angled oddly against the curb. It was no wonder the other couldn't find it; it had been thrown haphazardly in a direction he'd never have guessed to search in.

"Hey, it's fine," Kurt whispered softly, his voice what he hoped was somewhat comforting. He took Blaine's hand in his and guided him up the driveway, noting how the boy began to relax with his touch.

It was clear that Blaine Anderson needed a friend. Kurt would gladly give that to him.

Once they were inside, Kurt set Blaine's bag near the steps, gently guiding the blind boy into the house before turning to shut the door.

"Let's get you settled in the guest room, okay? I'm going to bring you up and then come back for your suitcase, alright?" Kurt ran the pad of his thumb over the back of Blaine's hand, a soothing gesture. The blind boy merely nodded, biting his lip.

"Okay. I trust you," he whispered. Kurt's heart seemed to soar at those three words… Blaine didn't know his name yet and he was already trusted… It made a soft smile grace the chestnut haired boy's lips as he carefully guided Blaine up the steps. He maintained a firm grip on the other's hand, letting him know that he wasn't going to leave him as Kurt suspected others had done in the past.

"Here we are," he whispered as they turned into the guest room. He gave Blaine a quick description of the room, leading him to the bed. "You can sit down now, sweetie." He couldn't help but use the term of affection. He knew Blaine needed it, and his suspicion was confirmed when the curly haired boy smiled. It was a ghost of one, but a smile all the same. Blaine perched on the edge of the bed, slipping off his shoes.

"Thank you…" he paused, not knowing the other's name.

"Kurt," he supplied softly, giving Blaine's hand a gentle squeeze. "My name is Kurt." Blaine could hear Kurt's light footsteps going back down the stairs to retrieve his suitcase.

Kurt, Kurt, Kurt…

He mouthed the name over and over, loving how natural and right it felt on his lips. He whispered it a few times, blushing lightly at how perfect it sounded on his tongue.

Kurt, Kurt, Kurt…

Said boy now stood silently in the doorway, watching Blaine with a fond smile. He held the curly haired boy's suitcase in one hand as he leaned against the doorframe.

It was clear that Blaine Anderson needed a friend, someone to hold him close and wipe away his tears. Kurt would gladly give him that.

He'd give anything for Blaine to stop feeling so alone.