So, I apologise to everyone who has been waiting oh so patiently for me to update! Real life, well, lately it has been kicking my rear from here to Timbucktu (sp?)! That happens when you have a new job, which is what I'm training for atm. Here is a little something I've been working on for the last little while. Thanks so much to GleekMom, not only for being my Beta, but also for reminding me I hadn't posted the darn thing yet! HAHAHA!

So, I've been listening to Curt Mega sing Uptown Girl over and over again, and watching Sebastian flirt shamelessly with Blaine (not that I can really blame him ;D) and I've come to a conclusion: I'm not 100% sure why, but I totally love the Kublastian love/lust triangle! And the word Kublastian! It sounds like an amazing type of explosion! HAHAHA!

Anyway, enough of my rambling. I'm truly sorry about this fic. Not that I think it's bad or anything; quite to opposite. I'm quite proud of this. I tried to write what I thought would have happened to Kurt if Burt had never pulled through his heart attack. It's just, Kurt has some really trying times, and it's more angsty than I think I've written before. However, I could be mistaken. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know. You can leave it in a review, or email me at ocean underscore 69 (at) hotmail (dot) com. Also, you can send me messages on Twitter, if you feel so inclined, the user name is Potikanda!

Now that I actually AM done rambling, here's the first chapter of this story!

Kurt's eyes dart around, shiftily, as he takes in his surroundings. He's in a back alleyway, the garbage overflowing from the bin and creating a mess behind the Chinese food restaurant. His heart pounds as he looks furtively around, his hands clambering onto the side of the dumpster.

It's been three days since he last had anything to eat. His stomach has shrunken, and he's fainted twice. He needs to eat, or he'll end up in the hospital. Again.

He watches for people coming around the corner of the building, as well as for the employees who work there. They nearly caught him last time he was there; he has to make sure he is exceptionally stealthy. Clambering up, he slides in amongst old chow mein, and grilled vegetables, and chop suey. He sorts through the refuse, finding a couple of egg rolls that still look palatable. He shoves those in his pocket; he'll save them for later. He needs something a little less filling for right now. He knows if he eats too much, he'll puke. And that's not something he can handle right now.

Kurt Hummel is nineteen years old. His father died of a heart attack a couple of years ago, leaving him alone in the world. His mom died when he was eight. His dad's girlfriend offered to take care of him, but he couldn't burden her with his issues. He told her he would be fine, and left. His dad's shop was sold, and he managed the proceeds as well as he could. But the money ran out a few months ago. He lost his house, he lost his car, and he lost himself.

He didn't drink, not after what happened with Ms. Pillsbury's shoes. He didn't do drugs, either, although that had been a viable option for a while, knowing Mr. Ryerson. He was still a virgin, although a God he didn't believe in knew how, what with all the perverts who lived around Lima. He'd been propositioned more than once, from people thinking he was a streetwalker. He'd almost done it, too. There had been times when he'd been so desperate for food that he had seriously considered losing his virginity to a random stranger for cash.

But he was Kurt Hummel. He may be eating out of dumpsters, sleeping in parks and alleyways, and showering at the YMCA. But he wasn't loose, and he wasn't insane. Kurt was brave. Brave enough to withstand anything life could throw at him. And he would withstand this too.

Kurt's body tensed as he listened to the sounds of the dishwasher who sauntered out to the alley with a tub of scraps. He ducked down, as far as he could go, hiding his body in the shadows of the dumpster to avoid being seen. He slid on a pile of bean sprouts, and landed on his ass with a thump.

Panicked, his bright blue eyes shot up, meeting warm hazel ones as the dishwasher looked in surprise inside the dumpster. Hazel stared at blue, and the dishwashers' mouth dropped open in pure shock.

Kurt scrambled up, and within seconds had fled the trash bin, high-tailing it down the alleyway. A faint shout could be heard, as the dishwasher called after him. It didn't matter what the man thought of him, Kurt believed. All he wanted was to not be caught. He was pretty sure that scavenging from a dumpster was illegal, and the last thing he wanted was to be thrown in jail for something as simple as needing food.

He rounded the corner, and jack-rabbited for the far side of the street. The mall was close. He would duck in the washrooms there until the danger had passed.

Blaine walked back into the kitchen of the Moon Wok restaurant, his eyes huge with disbelief. The cook stared at him, his eyes crinkling as he took in Blaine's bewildered expression.

"Why are you taking so long with emptying the scraps?" he asked Blaine, a smile gracing his weathered lips as he stirred the rice pot, and checked on the bean sprouts.

"I saw…" Blaine trailed off, his hand going to his mouth and his eyes wandering to the open door, as though his thoughts trailed off the way his mouth had.

The cook wandered over to the door, looking up and down the alley.

"What did you see?" he asked Blaine again, confusion marring his features. He wasn't the brightest man in the world, not smart like Blaine, but he was far from being dumb. He knew when something was bothering someone, and something sure bothered Blaine right at this moment.

"Nothing," Blaine replied, giving his head a shake, and returned to the dishes stacked in the sink.

"Ben?" Blaine hesitantly asked a few minutes later. The cook lay down his spatula, and cocked his head at the younger man.

"Yeah?" he replied, his hands moving to his hips in a fair imitation of his mother's stance when he had been younger.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Blaine turned his huge, hazel eyes on Ben, and the old man burst out laughing.

"Ghosts?" Ben answered, as he wiped away a tear from his eye. "I'm from the Philippines, which means, that I do believe in ghosts, yes. Or, as we call them; Multo. This is the soul of a dead person who has returned to the mortal world. So, to answer your question, yes, I believe. Why?" Ben finished, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Blaine blushed softly, his eyes darting once again to the door to the alley, before returning to the man before him.

"I think… I may have seen one today," he whispered, his voice low enough that Ben had to strain to hear him over the clanging and banging from the pots, pans and water rushing in the kitchen. Ben's eyes widened, and he threw a glance to the doorway as well. He murmured softly, as though afraid the ghost would be able to hear him.

"Well, the next time you see this ghost, try not to make it angry with you. Offer it some food, that usually allows them to see you aren't going to hurt them, and they will leave you alone," Ben finished, before returning to his work. Blaine blinked once more, and then returned to his own workstation.

He may have seen a ghost, or an angel, or something ethereal this evening, but he still had a job to do, and he couldn't afford to slack off.

Kurt stayed in the bathroom until nearly closing. The mall staff had finally found and ejected him from the room, at a few minutes to nine. When he was politely but firmly escorted from the building, he waited a few minutes outside, just breathing in the chill night air.

Kurt shivered, thinking that this was the coldest night he'd felt in a while. He would have to find a well-sheltered spot in order to spend the night out of doors. As it was well past nine by the time he would get there, he decided the homeless shelter would be too difficult this time of night to get into. Tucking his hands into the well-worn pockets of his jeans, he quickly walked downtown, looking for the perfect place to hide.

Most of the officers that worked around here knew him by sight, and they usually left him alone, or told him to move on, but there were still one or two who liked to make his life a living hell. Those were the ones who had something to prove, and they enjoyed watching him sweat. They usually asked stupid questions, such as where did he live, and what was he doing out so late at night?

He sighed. Hopefully he would get Officer Maloney this evening. She had always been kind to him. She had even shared part of her lunch with him a couple of times, and he had been more grateful than she could have ever imagined.

Ducking quickly into a deserted alley behind the old roller rink, Kurt skirted a couple of small trash bins, and spotted his hiding place. He threw furtive glances around; making sure no one saw him duck through the sheet of plastic that covered the doorway to an old abandoned movie theatre. Kurt pulled out the door. With a swirl of fabric, he slid inside. As he slipped through the dark, musty room, he made sure to glance everywhere around him. He noted the dust lying thick on the carpet under his feet, the yellow tinge to the windows from the light outside, and the sign of rats lying by the popcorn machine in the lobby.

Oh yes. This would make a very good hiding place. At least for a few more days. Until he got caught again.

It was now three days later. Kurt wandered the street, not really paying attention to where he was going. His mind whirled in confusion, as his food-deprived body tried desperately to control itself. He lurched to the side, his shoulder hitting a wall, and he paused, looking around at the blurry figures that darted around him. He took in a short figure approaching him, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"Shit!" Blaine dashed forward suddenly as the boy before him passed out, catching him before he had a chance to knock his head on the ground. Falling to the sidewalk with the weight of another person pulling him down, he looked around furtively at the people that were deliberately stepping around and past him and this boy. It was as though they were intentionally ignoring the plight of this young man; his ghost, his angel.

He whipped out his cell phone and called for an ambulance. His other hand cradled the head of the boy, which was now lying limply on Blaine's lap. He spoke quickly but calmly to the woman who answered the phone, advised her where to send the ambulance, and hung up. Reaching down, he lay his hand on the boy's forehead, noting that he seemed a bit colder than he should be. Blaine pulled off his coat, and lay it over the boys' prostrate body. Feeling the young mans' wrist, he took note of the pulse. It was erratic and fluttery, and it made Blaine's heart break to know that the young man before him may not live.

The ambulance pulled up a bit down the block, and they rushed to the two young men, quickly taking vitals for the one lying on the ground. They bundled him up, asking Blaine questions every so often about how he had found the young man. Blaine answered as best he could.

As the ambulance attendants were loading the young man into the ambulance, Blaine asked a single question that would change his life forever:

"What's his name?"

The attendant looked at Blaine out of the corner of his eyes, and responded with a question of his own.

"You sat with him for over ten minutes and he isn't your friend?" Blaine shook his head, his soft curls bouncing around as he did so.

"I've only seen him once before, from a distance." The attendant studied the young man before him with wise eyes, and a small smile graced his lips.

"His name is Kurt Hummel, according to the driver's licence we found in his pocket. I shouldn't even be telling you that, but you seem like a nice kid. And you did just save his life," he finished, turning back to his partner. Together they got into the ambulance and the driver leaned out the window to call back:

"We'll be heading to St. Mary's," and with that, they drove off.

Blaine smiled softly. He would just pop over to the Moon Wok and let them know he'd be a bit late. Ben would cover for him. Besides, it's not like he would be missed terribly. Blaine only worked there because he enjoyed the social interaction. His parents had enough money to take care of him and any future children he might decide to have. Although, being gay, that might never happen either.

Blaine sighed, and began his walk to the Moon Wok.

Kurt awoke in the hospital. His mind was still a bit muddled, his eyes didn't want to focus, and there was someone beside his bed. He blinked a few times, trying not to move much. His brain still felt a bit light, and his stomach churned gently in his abdomen. He fought the urge to throw up, and slowly the focus returned to his eyes. He looked to his left, and found a young man sitting there, watching him.

They sat staring at each other for a few moments. He's gorgeous, Kurt thought to himself as he studied the man seated beside him. What a gorgeous man, Blaine internalised, his eyes roaming over Kurt's face as he tried to memorise the other man.

When Kurt realised they were both staring, his face slowly flushed, accenting his sunken eye sockets, his sharp cheekbones, and his jutting chin. Blaine watched the slow blush creep over the other man's face, and felt his own face heating up. He blinked softly, and took his eyes away from the other man. A shared moment of awkwardness ensued, and then Kurt broke the silence.

"So, are you an intern, or something?" he asked softly, his eyes roaming over the room as he took in the IV drip, the heart monitor, and the small bouquet of flowers resting on the table next to the bed. He reached over to look at the card, which said "From Blaine". Blaine. Who the devil was Blaine?

"Uhm, no, I'm not an intern," the other man answered, just as softly. He watched Kurt look at the card on the flowers. Idiot, was all Blaine could think as he watched the confusion flit over Kurt's face. Of course you shouldn't have signed your name! He has no idea who you are! Blaine mentally face-palmed, his eyes flickering between Kurt's face and his hand, which was still stretched out to the flowers.

"Umm… those. Those a-are from m-me," He stammered slowly, another blush creeping up his neck to his face and covering his cheeks and nose. Kurt looked at Blaine, his eyes wide as he studied the other man more intently.

"So, you're Blaine?" Kurt asked, an eyebrow quirked as he asked the question, making Blaine feel about two inches high. Blaine gulped gently, and nodded his head quickly.

"I'm the one who found you. I actually caught you as you passed out," he added, and Kurt groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Oh my Gaga," Kurt shook his head and groaned again, his embarrassment too much right at that moment. Blaine leaned forward, concerned for the boy in the bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his tone concerned, gentle, and kind. Kurt released his face from his hands, glaring at the boy sitting beside the bed.

"Fine, other than a very bad case of being embarrassed!" Kurt retorted harshly, and a blush crept up Blaine's cheeks.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about," Blaine replied, his voice low and soothing. "From what the doctors have told me, you were closer to death than you were life. It was close, but they managed to pull you back before…" Blaine trailed off, looking out the small window to stop from embarrassing himself further. He felt like he was going to cry. How did this boy manage to make him feel things he had never felt before? Like the downright terror he felt in his gut every time he thought about Kurt dying? Or the panic he experienced when he realised this boy might disappear again, never to be seen or heard from again?

Kurt felt his cheeks flame again, and he looked out the window to take his mind off what Blaine was telling him. He had almost died this time? He wondered what it would have felt like. He felt a sudden flush of anger towards the men and women who had saved him. His chance to see his parents, and the doctors had stolen it from him. His eyes flashed angrily, and he turned back to Blaine.

"Go away," Kurt muttered to Blaine, his eyes smouldering with the banked fires of rage that coursed through his veins.

"Kurt," Blaine murmured, the concern in his eyes for the other man sending Kurt into a blinding, towering rage. How dare he! Kurt meant nothing to him. Why was this stranger so fascinated with him? He couldn't take it any longer and the rage burst from his throat.

"GET OUT!" Kurt yelled, his throat closing in his anger, choking off his air supply. He choked, then gagged, and then threw himself from the pillow, attempting to get out of the bed.

"Woah!" Blaine shouted, grabbing Kurt's arms and pinning him down. He called out for help from the on duty nurse at the nurse's station. "Hey, I need help in here!" A couple of orderlies raced into the room, expertly pinning down the openly sobbing man. One pulled out a syringe and stabbed Kurt in the arm.

"No! No… Why would you save me? I could have… c-could have b-been with t-them…" Kurt began sobbing in earnest, the orderlies looking on in pity and sympathy. A nurse showed up a few minutes later, bringing soft straps that she attached to Kurt's arms and legs. Blaine began to protest, until she replied with a quiet "It's procedure."

Kurt's sobs slowly became less and less pronounced as he calmed, and Blaine's heart finally began to slow.

Kurt finally lay back on his pillow, the drugs taking over his system. He looked shyly over at Blaine, frowning slightly, as though there was something he should be remembering, but not too fussed about what it was. Yes, those drugs were really making him high as a kite.

At this point it was nearly time for all visitors to leave, so Blaine murmured a quiet "Good night," and made his way out of the room. He paused at the door, looking back. What he saw brought tears to his eyes as he studied the boy lying in the bed.

Kurt looked out the window, staring into the inky blackness of the night, his eyes never stopping long enough to focus on any one thing before travelling onward to the next stop.

There you have it. I sobbed when I wrote this last part; I'm a very empathic person, I could feel everything that Kurt was going through. I guess it helps me write better, but it makes the sad part very difficult. I get so emotionally invested in what I write that if it's sad, it can take days for me to feel even the slightest bit of happiness again. Guh.

I hope you guys like it. I have a couple of extra chapters ready to post, so if I don't update as much on the other stories, at least I have something to give you wonderfully patient, amazing people! If you liked it, review please! I adore reading your comments, criticsms, issues with the characters, whatever. But I beg of you, allow me the courtesy of replying to your comments! And thank you so much to all of the people who chat with me on a regular basis: GleekMom, all of my Tweethearts (you know who you are), cipimentel983, Wickelicious, More With Truffles, and NiffLover396 to name a few! You guys are so amazing, letting me rant and complain about my real life issues! And GleekMom, I owe you so much, and when we get to New York in January, I'm buying you dinner (since neither of us drink LOL)!

Thanks so much for reading! Hope you stick around for the next installment, and I promise to work on Our Love, or Blush, or one of my other stories soon!