#thread: 1401

Blaine

Blaine hated this house. He had never lived somewhere that felt less like home. A place that provided four walls and a roof was never meant to be so uninviting and cold and cruel. A place he was legally supposed to reside in wasn’t supposed to send his stomach flipping at the mere thought of stepping through the doors. There had been countless broken promises from the foster program and Blaine had long since given up almost entirely with hoping anything better was going to happen. All he could use to keep him going was the fact that, one day, he’d be eighteen. And then the world was his oyster. 

With a soft sigh, Blaine pushed open the front door. It was habit to pause as soon as the door was locked behind him, no matter the time of day, to check if anyone was around. It always guided him forwards; if he could grab something from the kitchen on the way to his room, or if he was going to have to avoid the fifth step to go unnoticed. Luckily, at this time the house was fairly quiet other than the soft murmur of the TV behind the closed lounge door. It was one of the reasons he loved taking the later shift at Breadstix; he managed to avoid most of the crap that he would have walked into earlier.

Carefully, Blaine ascended the stairs, stepping very carefully so he didn’t end up alerting anyone to his return. It was madness, having to tread so carefully in his own home. Then again, none of them had really been welcome here. It was just a bed and facilities. They were a means of getting more money from the government, nothing else. When he’d first entered the foster program, Blaine had been pretty convinced he would find some fairytale permanent family. Between fairly distant families that didn’t give much effort and ending up in this one? He definitely wasn’t expecting miracles any time soon. After all, he only had a little while longer, and most people didn’t want to foster the older kids. He was getting by. All he had to do was continue that.

After pausing again on the landing, Blaine made his way past the other doors and pressed his palm up against the door. Quickly, he tapped each of his fingers against the door - quiet but still a little warning that it was him and not to be alarmed or defensive - before slipping inside with a tired smile. Instantly, he kicked off his shoes, placing them under the frame of his bed and out of plane sight and dropped his school bag on his bed before looking over at Atticus to guage whether the other was still awake. Of course he already knew the answer considering they never slept until the other was back and safe and okay, but it was just a tradition or formality that Blaine had fallen into.