Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Isolation

It is not that he hates being around his siblings, really, Blaine does not.

It's ..., it's more that he has always been a stranger among them.

And it hurts. It hurts not knowing '...why?' Only ever suspecting, it is exhausting, trying to figure out, feeling like you need to try and figure out what is '... what's wrong with me?' it hurts so much more than anyone around him seems to know.

And how could they? Why would they?

They do not have to.

They '...they fit in,' with each other and seemingly everyone else in their lives. And there is that other thought much worse, 'They belong.'

Blaine has never belonged, 'I don't know how to.' Because clearly he is the one who has to change.

Isn't he?

So he spends his days going on and trying, trying so hard to make himself fit.

Knowing himself, finding out more and more, knowing who he is does not help.

Every piece to himself he finds fits ... him. But it does not so much as please anyone else he knows to look at.

Blaine feels trapped, tries to box himself in, in any way he can think of pleasing to others, he tries so hard to be like them. To be likeable.

And inside all that is him keeps dying, rots away into hollowness.

He is pale and the dark circles under his eyes have for a while now become a permanent feature of his face the day that a book at the bookstore five towns over where no one knows of him, or his family, slips from his hands, shaky most of the time these days, like really all of him.

He crouches down, taking a deep breath, letting out a sigh, but before his fingers can close around it ... someone else's are meeting his, outstretched, reaching ... to hold.

Their fingers meet before Blaine even sees the other boy's face, but he hears a wonderfully melodic, "This is a lovely book. Have you read any of his others?"

Blaine is still crouching there, staring, when the boy with the brown hair and the big bright eyes smiling at him straightens himself again already.

Blaine tries to follow, too quickly, and stumbles, almost crashing into the other boy, stuttering out a sorry, looking down again already, book now held tightly to his chest.

"I ... I ...," Blaine tries. It's just, it's been so long since anyone has been kind to him ... and meaning it. His insides are screaming at him to dare, to do, to trust. This boy, this boy is kind.

"Are you alright?" the other boy asks wearily.

Blaine tries, but all his mouth does is gap.

The brown-haired boy takes Blaine by his hand and leads him over to a table a little away from the busiest part of the store, "Wait here?"

Blaine nods, swallowing.

Blaine only notices he is still clutching the book to his chest when the kind boy comes back two steaming porcelain cups in his hands, "I hope you like coffee."

Blaine nods gratefully, heavy heartedly setting the book down and carefully cupping the warm porcelain in both his hands.

"I'm Kurt."

"Blaine."