Blaine stumbled across the room, viciously wiping the tears from his eyes. He yanked open the drawer and smiled grimly as he picked up his old friend - the razor blade.
He slowly lowered the blade to his wrist and felt the cold metal grace his skin. He gasped joyfully as his old wounds were forced open and he was basking in the pain of his fury. He felt the familiar dizziness and his eyes began to cloud over and then he was melting, melting into the black oblivion in which his salting tears dripped onto the fresh cut.

                                 ***
On period two of Monday morning Blaine Anderson could be found loitering in the school grounds. He was leaning against the side of the football stands, boot clad feet propped up against some jock's helmet, trying desperately to light his last cigarette.
"I'm bored." He stated to the group, who jumped, startled by Blaine's sudden pronouncement in the warm quiet.
Although Blaine Anderson was always surrounded by his gang cronies, he had always felt isolated and alone. His crew of five simply worshiped him but he didn't know why. He wasn't exactly a good role model, or the meanest bully or the biggest, strongest or toughest but wherever he went they would be there, whether he liked it or not.
The group consisted of Sebastian Smythe, a little weasel if ever there was one. He was feared the most by the other students for his quick-to-judge attitude. If Sebastian Smythe to a disliking to you, you were dead meat. Then there was Puck, he was probably the softest of the group though he wore a hard shell but Blaine had a sneaking suspicion that he was only part of the gang to get out of lessons - you would have trouble finding a teacher who would tell Blaine's gang to get back to class. Dave Kurofsky was the runt of the litter, he was good for back-up but Sebastian relentlessly teased him and no one really cared. Azimo was also in the group but he was only there as protection with his huge frame and rock hard muscles. Blaine was the leader, he didn't know why but mostly he couldn't bring himself to care.

Sebastian turned to Blaine.
"We could always go to class," he said cooly, Kurofsky snorted into his fist.
"Problem Kurofsky?" Sebastian snapped at him. He shook his head and remained a solemn expression.

"Uh, we could go and slushie the freshmen?" Puck offered.
Sebastian nodded thoughfully, "Or that damn Glee club..." The rest of the group grinned.
"No," said Blaine irritably, "We don't want a repeat of last time, Sebastian, when you nearly blinded that Asian girl."
"Please, it was just a bit of juice, her mother way over reacted." Sebastian said.
Blaine narrowed his eyes, "You fucking scratched out her eyes!" Sebastian flinched and Blaine heard the rest of the group intake their breath. Blaine sighed exasperatedly, he felt so frustrated with this group. It was like their only goal in life was to make everyone else's miserable. He didn't even think any of them had dreams beyond high school. They were all Lima losers.
Sometimes he wondered if he too would be stuck in this town for the rest of his miserable life. He had dreams once, he had wanted to be a singer. But that was back then, naïve little Blaine didn't know what was coming for him not that he could have done anything about it though.
Blaine was angry all of the time though. He just didn't show it or tried not to, he had his own ways of venting his feelings.

"You know what, maybe I will go back to class. It's more interesting than you losers anyhow." Blaine muttered standing up and stretching.

"I'll come with you!" Sebastian said brightly standing up also. Blaine sighed, it was really difficult to bottle up sometimes. Blaine simply gave him a withering look and began to walk in the direction of the school's wheelchair entrance, a place that everybody, except that Artie dork, avoided. As much as he very much doubted it, he hoped that Sebastian had taken the hint and stayed put but much to his dismay he heard him running up.
Sebastian came jogging up behind him, panting. Panting, for god sake, thought Blaine, he'd only run a couple of steps.
"Wait up Blaine!" He called. Blaine ignored him and carried on storming towards the school. Pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket as he did so.
Sebastian finally caught up with him, "Hey, we, um, do you- uh, what I was -"
"Spit it out then!" Blaine said agitatedly, boy, that kid really knew how to push his buttons.
"We still haven't talked about the party..." Sebastian said tentatively. Blaine's insides squirmed uncomfortably remembering last Friday's events. Him, Sebastian in Sebastian's father's car. The sweaty leather sticky to his back and the tinted windows rolled up.

"What party?" He snapped back.
"Azimo's party!" Said Sebastian. Blaine's heart was beating a little too fast.
"What about it?" Blaine said.
"Um, well, me and you, we kind of..." Sebastian trailed of as he met Blaine's cold stare.
"I don't remember anything, what ever happened, if anything really did happen, I was clearly too out of it to know what I was doing." Blaine rambled quickly.
Sebastian looked at him disbelievingly, "You only had two beers Blaine and you can hold your liquor."
"Look maybe it was so special to you that you locked in away in that twisted little mind of yours but whatever fucking happened it meant nothing to me because I don't remember a goddamn thing!" Blaine yelled at him, he was losing control now. He had to get away from Sebastian.
"Blaine... we could be great..." Sebastian said and blushed immediately, realising how pitiful he sounded.
"Leave me alone." Blaine said and then he turned and stormed off in the direction of the school office.

...

Kurt Hummel smiled at the pretty ginger woman who had just arrived to greet him. He liked her outfit, quirky but elegant. Kurt Hummel firmly believed that he should always judge a book by its wardrobe. Now that he had finally shed his Dalton blazer, he had to chance to show off his fabulous clothes which had been hanging forlornly in his closet all this time. Hopefully there would be some girls, at least, here who would appreciate his budding gift for fashion.

"Hello there, you must be Kurt?" She asked him. He picked up his satchel and extended a hand, nodding as he did so. She looked him up and down. Maybe a chain link sweater and faux fur hunting hat were too flamboyant for his first day? She smiled at him anyhow.
"I'm Miss Pilsbury, the school guidance counsellor, if you ever need to see me about anything don't hesitate to just give a little knock on my office door, it's just down the hall there." She indicated to a door a few feet away. Kurt noticed the corridor was lined with lockers, he wondered which one would be his. He never had a locker a Dalton Academy.
"Okay thank you Miss Pilsbury" Kurt said, he felt his nerves melting away as this woman made him feel welcome in this new environment.
"I have to go and deal with something now so you can just go to class when you think you're ready, no rush." She walked lightly down the corridor and Kurt sighed happily, pulling out his timetable. This school seemed like a nice place.

Suddenly the front door of the school banged open. Kurt turned his head in alarm.
A boy strode into the room. His head was covered in a unruly mass of black curls which draped down over his honey brown eyes. His eyebrows, interestingly triangular, were narrowed and his lips, sliced right down the middle were curled into a snarl, a cigarette dangling distastefully from them. Kurt's eyes immediately jumped to the outfit, a black leather jacket, a little scuffed at the elbows with skin tight black jeans, torn at the knees. This ensemble was coupled with a pair of black Doc. Martens and his white t-shirt hung over his torso in all the right places. Kurt surprised himself in thinking, the outfit actually worked.
The boy stopped at the office desk and jabbed the buzzer a couple of times.
"Damn." He muttered as he took out a pen from inside his jacket and wrote his name on a clipboard hanging over the edge of the desk which was labelled "LATE". Kurt could not keep his eyes of this boy, the way he moved was so... sexy. He gazed at the boy and Kurt thought the he noticed. Kurt suddenly ducked his head to his timetable as the boy looked over. Then he remember that he was supposed to be in class.

Consulting with his timetable, he was supposed to be in Spanish with Mr Schuster right now. Only Kurt, being new, had no idea where this Mr Schuster of Spanish was. Kurt looked up as he noticed the boy was sauntering past, snubbing out his cigarette on the William McKinley plaque as he did so. Kurt suddenly felt an urge to talk to this boy, to let him know that he was there, to be noticed. He took a deep breath.
"Excuse me, um, hi. Can I ask you a question? I‘m new here." Kurt said boldly to the boy, he could feel his heart hammering against his chest and he didn't know why. Despite the clothes, the boy was just the same as him. He shouldn't be scared of him.
The boy stopped, obviously surprised as he turned his head to Kurt and simply stared at him. Kurt couldn't help with notice how beautifully brown those eyes were. So big and deep and hazelnutty. Was "hazelnutty" a word? It should be, it described those eyes so perfectly. Two big, round hazelnuts. Kurt suddenly realised that he was gazing at this stranger and had been doing so for quite a while. He tried to look away, abashed, only the stranger was staring back. Kurt was sure the boy could hear his heart thumping because it filled his ears in the quiet room. Suddenly the boy broke the silence.

"My name's Blaine."

"Kurt."

...

Blaine was angry. Big surprise. Who did this kid think he was just staring at him like that? And why were his eyes so deliciously blue and green and grey all at the same time? It was like an explosion of stars, like a supernova. Blaine was even more furious when he found himself introducing himself to this random boy who clearly didn't know the way things worked around here at McKinley.

"My name's Blaine." He found himself saying, it wasn't even in a gruffly "don't-talk-to-me-again-or-else" sort of way, his voice came out kind of breathless and dreamy. How disgusting.
He was just about to continuing storming down the corridor in a rage to try and find a teacher or one of those damn office women when the boy spoke again.

"Kurt" He said, smiling nervously. He shifted his bag onto his shoulder and readjusted the fox like creature on his head. Hold up, thought Blaine, what the hell is this boy wearing?!
He surveyed him from head to toe, eyes lingering for a moment on the tight leather pants he was wearing. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous, Blaine found himself thinking, but this boy managed to pull it off, more than just pull it off.

"Um, I‘m sort of lost." The boy said warily. Blaine felt his cheeks grow hot as he realised the boy had seen him gazing at his body and he continued to fidget with his bag. Blaine had to leave. Now.

"Good luck with that," Blaine said swiftly and spun on his heel to walk back down the corridor. He could hear the boy sigh sadly behind him and his footsteps filled the silence as he marched away. The floor was too shiny and the lights were too bright and his shoes squeaked awkwardly. Blaine willed himself not to turn around and glance back at the boy because he knew that nothing could stop him now from grabbing him and kissing him all over his -.
Shit, thought Blaine, what the hell has gotten into me?

Blaine continued walking down the corridor muttering silently to himself. He walked past the lockers in the corridor and thought about all the times he'd seen his "friends" shove the other students into them or thrown slushies in their faces. Blaine had laughed along then but he didn't find it very funny anymore. Not now that he knew how it felt. Being hurt day after day for no reason other than you looked a little different or didn't act the same as everyone else or didn't dress right or the way you sounded or because you loved the wrong person.

Blaine ran his calloused thumb over his left wrist absentmindedly. He thought about the first time it had happened, that scar was probably the smallest even though it had hurt the most. He pressed his thumb down on it, thinking back. Don't think I don't know Blaine. Don't think I'm stupid enough not to realise. Blaine pressed down harder on the cut and smiled to himself. I've seen the way you look at them, it's disgusting, it's not right, Blaine. We'll get you all straightened up. Blaine pushed down as hard as he could now, the squeezed his eyes shut as blood started to drip slowly from the old cut. Slap. Maybe next time you think about looking at the wrong thing you'll remember how much this hurts. Slam. I'm not a bad person Blaine, you are. This is what you deserve, you know.
Blaine gasped as his thumb nail cut into his skin and sliced right along the old scar, now red raw. Blood was now trailing slowly down his wrist and dripping off his fingers on to the floor. He quickly made his way to the bathroom and slipped inside.

He ordered a trembling freshman out of the bathroom and made his way over to the sink. He watched calmly as the water flashed red up at him. He barely noticed the stinging sensation in his arm as he gazed across at his reflection in the mirror.

He was barely recognisable as the happy, cheery fifteen year old who had moved to Lima three years ago. The boy with the gelled black hair and the biggest smile anyone had ever seen. The boy who played guitar when all his friends just wanted to hang out. He had even done Disney covers and written his own songs. He had to be kidding himself if he thought he could remember them now.
Blaine's face was now framed in an array of black curls which stuck up messily in every direction. His once chubby, dimpled face was hollowed out and his cheek bones jutted out dramatically against the glare of the bathroom light. All the light had disappeared from his eyes and Blaine only saw dark tunnels of emptiness, anger and depression. He slowly brought his hand to his cracked lips and stroked the scar which ran all the way from his septum to the bottom of his chin. He had to get stitches that night. Twelve of them. They told the doctor that he'd slipped in the shower and fell headfirst into the taps. They told everyone else that too.

Blaine looked at the premature lines etched across his forehead and the dark circles beneath his eyes and wondered for the thousandth time why it had to be him.