Glee 1. Mos and Ros

**A/N:** _This fic's a bit different from the others that I've written (and never finished- sorry for those who enjoyed those ones!) and I'm quite enjoying it so far. _  
_Warnings for this chapter: a bit of violence, kind of gore? mostly violence._  
_Enjoy!_

* * *

"Blaine?" called the small brunette girl, tucking her neatly braided hair into the tartan cap on top of her head. She smoothed out her knee-length coat, looking up as her younger brother quickly ran out into the kitchen where his sister was standing. He was clad simply in tan slacks and a faded white button down shirt rolled up to his elbows. Rachel sighed. "Where's your coat? Your shoes? Your cap? Your sash?" She hissed, gesturing to the dark blue band wrapped around her arm. Blaine sighed. "I don't want to wear it." He said, looking down at his dirtied and bare feet. Rachel groaned heavily and took hold of Blaine's wrist, dragging him off to the small room that they had called a bedroom. "You know you can't go out to town looking like this, especially without your sash." She muttered, seating him in the small stool in front of the broken mirror on the wall. She picked up a comb from the end table and began to yank it through his unruly curls. Blaine winced, but said nothing as his sister attempted to tame his hair. "Why are we going out anyway?" He said after Rachel set down the comb and smoothed his somewhat manageable hair. "Are we out of bread already?"

"No. Not yet anyway," She said softly, picking up a black cap with a long brim from the table. "I need to go see Finn down at the butcher shop. He says he found work for us." She set the cap on Blaine's curls, slipping most of them beneath it. "And you need more gel. You look sloppy without it."

"Does it matter?" Blaine said coldly, tipping the brim of the hat upward somewhat. "It's not as if people will treat me different if my hair is slicked down. They look at me like I'm some zoo exhibit no matter what." Rachel looked down for a moment before walking over to the tiny wardrobe in the corner of the room, grabbing her brother's dark trench coat and the green sash from the shelf. "It doesn't matter. When you look… sophisticated, there's less of a chance of an officer throwing you down on the ground and beating you to death." Blaine swallowed, looking down before standing up, taking the coat from his sister and pulling it on. "I heard that they're starting to take the clean ones and put them on stage," Blaine said quietly as Rachel buttoned up the coat to his neck and brought the rim of his hat down again. "Show them off. Let people bid on them, the highest bidder gets to throw a noose around their neck. They step out of line-"

"That's enough." Rachel interrupted quickly, walking back to the wardrobe to pick up Blaine's shoes, a pair of clean white socks folded and stuffed into one of them. "Finn… is friends with the chief of police, and Finn is going to marry me; you know that will never happen to you."

"It happened to Sebastian." Blaine said, sitting down on the stool again to pull on the socks and shoes. "He was my friend and you said that Noah would get him out but he didn't-"

"_Sebastian_ was a _crook_. You're lucky you weren't up on that podium with him for being associated with him." Blaine fell silent, giving his sister a hard glare, then took the green band from her hands, wrapping it tightly around his right upper arm.

* * *

"What do you mean the position was filled?" Rachel pleaded, chasing Finn around the service counter. Blaine kept his eyes down and his hands folded in front of him. It was law that "Mos"- like himself- when permitted in buildings, keep their mouths shut unless spoken to. His eyes wandered over to the window by the door, watching a crude wooden stage be pushed out into the square by a few tall men. _Blue sashes._ Blaine thought as he dropped his gaze again.

"Rachel, it isn't my fault that someone got to it before I could call you again-"

"Finn, you don't understand, without that job, how am I supposed to feed Blaine and myself? I'll have to find work in… in…" Finn sighed heavily, pulling the small girl into his arms. "I won't let that happen- I promise. Our wedding is in a month and they'll give us requisites." Rachel buried her face in her fiancé's chest, sighing shakily before looking up at him. "What about Blaine? They won't let him live in our house- we're lucky he can stay with me _now_, but you know how strict the laws are-"

"We'll find a way around it. Somehow. I promise." Finn looked over at Blaine, who was watching the hardly clothed men and women get shoved up onto the stage, green bands around their malnourished arms. A tall, dark-skinned girl held her face up to the harsh sunlight, as if she were proud, her black hair cascading over her bony shoulders like water was dragged up by an auctioneer- Blaine could hear the man shouting faintly through the glass- talking about her weight and history, probably. Suddenly, another girl attempted to jump onto the stage, a girl with dirty blonde hair that fell to the middle of her back. Blaine sensed something odd about her- it may have been the fact she wasn't wearing what a young woman was to wear on the streets- a long skirt that brushed against the ground as she walked, a button down blouse that fit snugly around the frame, a pair of boots with pointed toes that clicked on the stone of the streets, a cap that concealed her hair, and a long coat covering it all- but a tattered shirt that left her stomach and lower back bare, a pair of what looked like boys' slacks, gloves with the fingers sloppily cut off, and no shoes. But what Blaine decided made this strange girl stand out was that she didn't have a band on. Not a green band signaling she was a Mo, or a blue one saying she was a Ro. Her right arm was completely bare, aside from a few bandages. She screamed and shouted, and from what Blaine could see, it looked like there were tear tracks cutting through the thick layer of dirt covering her thin face. The auctioneer rolled his eyes as the girl grabbed onto the green-banded girl's hands and tossed his head towards her. Blaine arched an eyebrow, his eyes widening when he saw an officer with the brim of his hat covering his eyes walking over. He pulled his gun from its holster. Blaine averted his eyes as he heard the gunshot through the glass. Both the blonde girl and the Mo collapsed off the stage in a bloodied heap. The auction went on as if nothing had happened.

"Blaine." Finn said, considering reaching out to touch his arm but pulling back at the last second. Blaine looked up slowly, folding his hands behind his back politely. "Yes, sir?" He muttered, something angry blinking in his eyes. Finn sighed, sliding his hands into the pocket of his apron. "There's a small apartment complex near the outskirts of town. Lots of Mos live there, so there shouldn't be a problem. I'll talk to the building manager- he's a Ro, but he's a really nice guy, doesn't have any problem with people like you-"

"People like me?" Blaine said, a hint of irritation to his tone. "Disgusting Mos who… who don't know how to take care of themselves? People who deserve to be publicly humiliated and executed?"

"Blaine, you know that's not what he meant," Rachel spoke up, walking up to stand beside Finn, taking his hand tightly in her own. Finn sighed sadly, looking down for a moment. "I'm going to talk to him. You should be living there by the end of the week." Blaine huffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Fine. Thanks."

"Blaine, be polite." Rachel hissed, knowing fully well that Finn didn't give a damn about his fiancée's Mo brother's attitude toward them. Blaine rolled his eyes and forced a sickening smile. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for being ever so gracious to someone of my kind." He said sarcastically before throwing his smile away and looking back down. Finn and Rachel exchanged sad looks before walking back over to the counter and speaking softly about Rachel's career situation again. Blaine's eyes returned to the window. Someone had carted off the Mo-girl's and the Blank girl's bodies, and the auctioneer had moved on to a new Mo, a burly man with dark stubble across his chin and hair cut close to his head. Blaine sighed; Finn gave Rachel a sack of freshly cut meats and she walked back over to Blaine. "Come on," She said quietly, taking Blaine's hand. She waved goodbye to Finn and headed out of the shop, toting Blaine alongside her.

* * *

As they made their way past the auction stage, Blaine's eyes met with a tall, pale Mo, with chestnut hair that fell limp in his sad green eyes. There was practically nothing to him- he was all skin and bone with a thin shirt that could've been made from a bed sheet hanging off of his frame and a pair of torn slacks with no shoes. His green band, despite being tied so tightly, looked loose around his forearm. He wore no expression as Blaine looked up at him, but his eyes widened as they caught onto the band of his arm. Rachel tugged on Blaine's hand, causing him to look down immediately as they walked past. "You know you aren't supposed to let the Mos they're auctioning off make eye contact with you," she muttered as they got passed the stage. Blaine threw a glance over his shoulder- the green-eyed Mo was still watching him. Blaine looked back down, watching his feet. "That one back there… he was so young- I thought they didn't auction them off until they turn eighteen?"

"He must've done something really bad- murder, maybe."

"That boy can't have been a murderer. He… he didn't…"

"That's enough, Blaine." Rachel said sternly, gripping his wrist tightly. Blaine looked over his shoulder one last time at the green-eyed boy; he'd turned his gaze away, staring blankly into the crowd as he scratched the skin beneath his band. Blaine bit his lip and looked back down, practically shrinking into his sister's side.


	2. Apartment 410

**A/N:** _I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! More characters in this one, a tad of character development maybe? _  
_Warnings: some rude language, sexual assault, and mentions of the violence in chapter 1. Enjoy!_

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The week had gone by agonizingly slowly and much too fast all at once. Finn had spoken to the owner of the apartment building and got Blaine a reservation to be interviewed by the Ro who owned it- it didn't guarantee him a room, but it was a start. He was walking toward the building, dressed as nice as he could get- his hair gelled down within an inch of its life (thanks to Rachel) and fit snugly beneath his cap, a clean light blue shirt, and a pair of dark pants that were just a tad too big for him. He would've looked nicer if he didn't only have one pair of shoes that were old and frayed, but it was the best he could get. His green band was bound tightly around his right arm, as usual, and that earned him a dirty look or two on his way to the apartment. He was used to it. He couldn't help but smirk slightly as he thought of what his sister had said a week ago- "People may respect you more when you look sophisticated." _What a big, damned lie. _He thought to himself. No matter how presentable he made himself appear, everyone would simply see him for what he truly was: a Mo. Mos weren't to be trusted. They were disgusting, who often got their pay by selling themselves to rich Ros, often politicians who kept their acts secret. There wasn't a place for them on this planet- that's why they were convicted of silly crimes, such as stealing a moldy loaf of bread from a dumpster behind a restaurant, and Ros bid on them, and the highest bidder was given the chance to publicly beat or murder them however they pleased.

Blaine sighed and took off his cap as he entered the apartment building. He glanced up as he heard someone clear their throat, seeing an older man wearing thick rimmed glasses, a nice dark button down and jeans- odd enough, most men had to wear formal attire at work- and he was bound to a wheelchair, it seemed. Blaine's eyes widened slightly as he pulled his band off of his coat and went to put it around his arm as he shrugged off the garment. The man held up a hand, giving Blaine a tiny smile. "It's fine, you don't have to wear that in here." He said, setting his hand back down in his lap. Blaine swallowed and nodded, pocketing his band and draping his coat over his arm. "You're… Mr. Abrams, right?" He asked softly. "Arthur Abrams?"

"Call me, Artie. You must be the Mo the butcher told me about." Blaine swallowed again and nodded awkwardly. "Don't worry," Artie said quickly, turning in his wheelchair and rolling toward a small room by a staircase. Blaine followed suit, holding his coat close to him. "I've got nothing against Mos- I'm actually in a small association trying to end Mo auctions and abuse." Blaine breathed out a small sigh as Artie pulled his wheelchair up behind a cluttered desk and gestured to a chair in front of it. He sat down, crossing his legs and draping his coat over his lap. "That's… that's great and all, but could we… get to the interview?" Blaine said awkwardly, emotionally folding in on himself while trying to appear confident at the same time. Artie nodded," folding his hands on top of the desk. "Of course. Are you currently employed?"

"No, but Finn- the… the butcher- is trying to find me and my sister a job."

"Is your sister a Mo, too?"

"N-no. She's engaged to Finn. They're getting married in a month." Artie nodded slowly, looking down at a stack of papers in front of him. "It says here that before you were banded you worked in your mother's bakery? How old were you, then?"

"Eleven. I was banded when I was fourteen. A year later, my… my parents died."

"How?"

"Um…" Blaine cleared his throat, looking down. "Someone set our house on fire. My sister and me got okay- minor bones, a fracture here and there from… falling down the stairs, but… we were okay. Our parents… they were out cold."

"My… apologies out to you and your sister. Now… you've lived with your sister ever since the fire, you've been able to support yourself with odd jobs, you've never gotten into any trouble with the police… you had a few issues with Ros in school and what not but other than that, your record is clean…" Artie thumbed through the papers slowly before looking up at Blaine with a slight smile. "I have a room that should be able to support you… you'll probably need a part-time job to keep up with payments, but other than that…" He shrugged. "I might as well welcome you to the building now." Blaine smiled slightly, reaching out across the table in hopes Artie wouldn't be too disgusted to shake his hand. "Thank you so much." He said, eyes widening in slight shock as Artie reached up and firmly shook his hand. "Anything for a friend in need."

* * *

Blaine hummed softly to himself, adjusting the band on his arm as he tugged his only suitcase behind him awkwardly down the Mo side of the street, the only light around him coming from the few streetlamps on the edge of the sidewalk. Not only was he moving out of what was going to be solely his sister's apartment, but he was also moving into a building owned by a Ro _who didn't hate Mos_. The entire situation kind of made him want to dance in the street. He actually felt like a _person_ for once. He slowed his gate when he heard the sound of a small struggle, stopping when he peered around a corner.

"Isn't she a beauty?" slurred a tall man with much too long red hair as he gripped the arm of a thin Mo with sloppily dyed pink hair and smeared dark eyeliner and lipstick. "Let me go, you asshole-" She growled, trying to pull out of the man's grasp, only to get struck hard in the cheek. "You don't talk to a Ro like that, you bitch!" He shouted, grabbing the back of her tattered shirt as she got out of his grasp, ripping a deep hole into it. The Mo screamed as the man pulled her body against his own, grabbing at the hem of her long skirt. "Get the _fuck_ off me!" She cried, eyes watering as her skirt was yanked up to her knees. The man and the few drunken friends surrounding him laughed darkly as a hand slipped up her skirt.

Blaine couldn't help himself any longer. He knew he could get in serious trouble with this, possibly even arrested, but he could watch a Mo- no, a _girl_, a helpless _girl_ get attacked like this.

"Hey!" He shouted, storming over. The red headed man looked up, silent until he saw the green band around his arm. He smirked crookedly, shoving the girl into one of his friends. "So it's true. Mos stick together. You mad that your girlfriend over here is a slut? You-"

He was cut off as Blaine delivered a swift punch to his jaw. The redheaded man grunted and fell backwards into the alley wall, his friends pushing the Mo away and advancing toward him. Blaine's eyes went wide and he quickly pushed away from them, grabbing the girl's hand and running as fast as he could out of the alley, grabbing his suitcase on the way. "You gonna try to rape me, too, faggot?" She growled, attempting to wriggle out of Blaine's grasp.

"I'm trying to help you, just come on! Tell me where you live and I'll take you there!" The girl obviously couldn't think of a proper response and went silent for a moment, then rattled off her address quietly. "If you don't know where that is, it's the little apartment building by the St. Charity Post Office." She said. Blaine blinked a few times before throwing a glance over his shoulder at her. "That's… funny, I'm… actually moving in there. S'where I was heading when I found you."

"Yeah, hilarious, totally, now can we stop talking while we're running there?" She hissed, grabbing Blaine's suitcase from his hands and swinging the handle over her shoulder, picking up her pace and ending up in front of Blaine, dragging him behind her instead.

* * *

"So, this has happened before?" Blaine asked as him and the Mo-girl, whom he'd learned was named Lucy, but she preferred to be called Quinn. Quinn sighed and nodded, sneaking past Artie's office before pulling a box of cigarettes from the purse she had slung at her hip. "With the exception of Artie, most Ros are total assholes. Thinking they can just… jump girls like me in the middle of the night. This would never happen to Ro-girl." She looked up at Blaine, sticking a cigarette between her teeth. "You'd better hope those guys never see you again. They see you, they'll report you and you'll get auctioned off," She looked down, pulling a box of matches from her purse. "Just like a good friend of mine. I guess she was lucky, really. Her…" She cleared her throat. "Her girlfriend jumped up on the stage trying to pull her down. A… a fucking cop shot them both in the head. I don't know what they did with her body." Blaine blinked a few times as Quinn lit her cigarette. "I… you knew her?" He asked quietly. Quinn nodded, taking a long drag off her cigarette. "Her name was Santana. She punched a guy who tried to grab her ass and he turned her in. Her girlfriend, Brittany, was devastated. Thought she could jump up and grab her without anyone seeing her." Blaine swallowed, looking down and stuffing his free hand into his pocket. "I… I saw that happen," He said softly. Quinn blew out a stream of smoke and looked over at Blaine. "Yeah, the entire town did. I didn't think you were the type to watch auctions."

"N-no, I…" He cleared his throat. "I was in Hudson's Fine Meats at the time. The butcher shop in the square? My… sister and I were shopping and… well, you know Mos aren't allowed to speak unless spoken to, and I was… standing by the window when…" Quinn had looked away from him at this point and nodded. "So you weren't watching but you were… watching."

"I… I guess."

Quinn nodded again, as they walked past door after green striped door, then stopped as they reached a green striped door with the room number 309 on a gold plate hammered into it. "Here's me." She said, leaning against the door. Blaine nodded slowly, looking down for a moment. "Well… it was nice meeting you."

"Yeah, so nice to meet the lesbian about to get fucked in an alley by some asshole and his asshole friends." She said coldly before smiling sadly. "Sorry. I… I don't get along well with new people."

"It's… fine, I totally get it." Blaine gave her a slight smile, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, Lucy." He said. Quinn faked a sweet smile, reaching over to punch him in the arm. Blaine winced, holding his arm. "Don't call me that."

Blaine sighed contently as he got his room key and unlocked the door to his new home- the small but comfortable apartment 410 in Abrams's Apartments. He pushed open the door and strode in, setting his suitcase down at the foot of the bed. He looked around the room, admiring the fact there was a window near the bed, looking out over the edge of the city and beyond. Blaine began to wonder quietly to himself if cities everywhere were like this- segregated like this. Where gay people and straight people didn't fight or murder one another for fun. He wondered if there was a place where he didn't have to be branded as something different than everyone else. He hummed softly as he took off his cap and coat, walking over to the closet to hang them up. But when he opened up the door he found something a bit extra to his room.

A pale, green-eyed boy curled up in a ball on the floor with a green band around his arm.

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** A/N: **_Reviews are greatly appreciated!_


	3. Jam and Bread

**A/N: **_Hope everyone's enjoying the story so far! Last chapter ended with quite the cliffhanger, yeah? I'm gonna try to update once a day or twice every other day, but there should be another chapter up tomorrow!  
Warnings: a couple swear words and some mentions of violence._

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Blaine nearly fell backwards with shock. The green-eyed Mo quickly got to his feet, the shoulder of his white shirt slipping down to reveal pale, creamy skin. "Don't say anything, _please_!" He hissed, panic in his tone. Blaine stared down at the Mo practically groveling at his feet. There was the hint of a scar wrapped over his shoulder and a dark bruise shadowing his cheek. There were tears forming in his eyes- he looked like a kicked puppy. Blaine just wanted to gather the Mo up in his arms and smooth his wild hair and tell him everything was going to be okay

But instead of doing all that, Blaine simply swallowed and took a step back. He blinked a few times before recognizing the Mo- sad, green eyes, a loose white shirt, a pair of too-big slacks.

"Y-you," Blaine breathed as the Mo got to his feet and folded his arms tightly around himself. "You're the Mo who… who was waiting to get auctioned off and…" The Mo's eyes widened, and he took a cautious step closer. "You're… the boy from the square. The one with the… the pretty eyes…" Blaine blushed, flinching as the Mo slowly lifted a hand, resting it on his cheek gently, to Blaine's surprise. The Mo's hands were cold and clammy; a few tears fell down his cheeks. "You can't tell anyone I'm here," He whispered, voice trembling. "I'll be hanged if I'm found-"

"But _why _are you here at all?" Blaine asked, walking around the Mo and hanging his coat and cap up in the closet. The Mo stepped over to the window swiftly, closing the drapes silently.

"At the auction… when they tried to shove me up on stage… I accidentally stepped on the auctioneer's foot. So he hit me, and I fell. I… I don't know what came over me but… when the officer standing by called me worthless, I hit him. Broke his nose, I think. He tried to grab me so I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I…" the Mo choked on his words before continuing. "I hid in a dumpster near the city limits. I waited until the warning shots stopped and it was dark… then I snuck in here through an open window. The room was empty- I didn't think anyone would be in here, so I thought I could just… stay in the closet, steal food at night when I needed to…"

Tears slipped down through the layer of dust coating his thin face. Blaine shook his head, considering touching the Mo's shoulder reassuringly, but pulled back as he saw him start to tremble. "Hey," He said softly, grabbing his coat from the Closet again. He carefully wrapped it around the Mo's shoulders, looking down. "You're… you're safe here."

The Mo sniffled, looking at Blaine with wide eyes. "Really?" He whispered. Blaine nodded, hesitatingly lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "Can… can you tell me your name?" The Mo nodded shakily, slipping his thin arms into the sleeves of the coat, the sleeves just a bit too long and falling over his hands in the most adorable way Blaine had ever seen.

"Kurt," he said softly, nearly wincing as if his own name was like poison on his tongue. Blaine nodded softly, repeating the name quietly in his head. "Okay. I'm Blaine."

* * *

Kurt obviously hadn't eaten in a few weeks, because when Blaine gave him a few slices of bread with homemade jam from Rachel, he devoured it like it was the last meal he'd ever eat. Blaine sat across from him on the floor in front of the closet, slowly eating his own bread. "What did you do?" He asked quietly, looking up at Kurt. Kurt looked back at him curiously, licking a drop of jam off his finger. "To…" Blaine licked his lips, trying to think of the right words. "To… get you put up to be auctioned? Because… you barely look sixteen-"

"That's because I _am_ sixteen,," Kurt replied gravely. He swallowed and took a bite of bread, slower this time. "I… I needed money. I got a job in a bakery. Nothing bad or interesting. Then… a Ro came in one day. A… a businessman type with the expensive suit and bulky watch and everything. He… he called me pretty. He offered me req- a whole lot- if I would go with him and… dance with his 'dogs', he called them."

"You were a dancer?" Blaine asked.

"I was a prostitute." Kurt responded. He swallowed. "I lied about my age. I _needed_ the money, and… dancing paid well. Really well. But I was underage, so I had told him I was nineteen. When… when he found out that I wasn't…" He cut himself short. Blaine swallowed nervously before reaching out to touch Kurt's hand. "You don't have to say anymore," He said quietly. "I… I get this jist of it."

Kurt looked up at him, then breathed out a heavy sigh. "I've never met anyone as kind as you," He murmured, eyes flashing down to the slice of bread in his hands. Blaine blushed and looked down as well. "I guess I'm not like most people," He replied quietly, lifting a hand to scratch at the skin beneath his band. Kurt glanced up and grimaced. "It's so stupid," He murmured, taking a bite of bread. "What is?" Blaine asked nonchalantly, keeping his eyes down as he continued to eat.

"The fact we have to wear those stupid sashes so everyone knows whether you're straight or gay."

"It's even more stupid that trash gets better treatment than gay people." Blaine commented.

"The worst is on your thirteenth birthday. When the cops break down your front door, slap electrodes on your chest, and you have to tell them the truth or you get zapped." Blaine bit his lip and looked down. He'd put _that_ experience out of his head for the longest time…

"Did you lie?" Kurt asked. Blaine glanced up and shook his head.

"I…" He cleared his throat. "I told the truth, but… my parents weren't happy with my 'choice', they'd called it. They had the officer try to 'shock some sense' into me." Kurt blinked a few times before looking down. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Blaine shrugged. "It's… not a big deal, honestly. A year later they died, so I guess you can say they got their comeuppance. I mean, that _sounds_ really awful, me saying that I mean, but in my defense…"

"No, no, I get it. My stepmom would come home from work and bet the living shit out of me after I got banded. Now, add the equivalent of being flogged to the electric shock you get when you lie."

Blaine's eyes widened. "Kurt…"

"Don't… give me sympathy," Kurt said, shaking his hand. "I was just… dealt a bad hand. My mom died when I was eight, my dad remarried a year later. When I was banded, my stepmother despised me. Two years later my dad dies from a heart attack. I run away from home- stepmom doesn't care. I end up becoming a hooker, and now I'm squatting in some guy's closet hoping the police don't find me."

Blaine couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. "Well, I guess we're both in shitty positions, then?" He offered, smiling at Kurt sadly. Kurt looked up, a tiny smirk coming to his face before he looked down again. "I suppose," He shrugged. He bit his lip, finishing his last slice of bread before looking back up at Blaine. "I don't think I ever said thank you. You know, for hiding me here."

"No need," Blaine said, shaking his head. "Us… Mos gotta stick together, huh?" A smile tugged at Kurt's lips and he looked down. "I guess," He bit his lip, looking back up at Blaine. He opened his mouth to say something when they heard a knock at the door. Kurt jumped, eyes widening as he scooted back into the closet, collecting the napkin his bread had been on. He looked up at Blaine, who got to his feet. He looked down at Kurt and held a finger to his lips; Kurt nodded, tightening Blaine's coat around himself. Blaine swallowed and closed the closet slowly before walking over to the door to the apartment. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the soft smile of Artie Abrams. "You settling in alright?" Blaine's eyes widened slightly and he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the closet. "Yeah," he said softly, a tiny smile coming to his face as he looked back at Artie.

"Everything's perfect."

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**A/N:** _If you have any notes, suggestions, questions, or just want to say hi, feel free to message me on my Tumblr .com! And as always, reviews are greatly appreciated!_


End file.

Glee, Hurt-Comfort, Romance