As that boy ran out of the toilets, closing the door behind himself, Blaines first instinct was to run after him - to tell him that... that he had just kissed a teacher. That it was wrong and that he should've at least introduced himself - that you can't just kiss someone and then leave. Blaine hoped that maybe the boy wasn't even his student. But there were boundaries he had to respect in any case; rules to follow. Blaine clearly remembered the story of that Math teacher who was arrested in Philadelphia…

In truth, Blaines first instinct wasnt actually to follow that boy out of the toilets - it was to run to the nearest bathroom and release himself of about half a litre of pee. Being left alone in the room had suddenly reminded him why he was even there in the first place. With a clear mind and an empty bladder, he finally started to think again; his cheek, though, still felt like he had just been kissed by burning fire and not by an overly straightforward teenage boy.

What had he just got himself into?

Blaine started pacing back and forth, anxiously tapping his fingertips on the sinks as he passed - trying to find a solution because as a teacher, he simply couldnt let this go unnoticed.

First of all, he could go to Figgins and tell him about what the bullies had done to that boy, but from the teens reaction when he had suggested it, it would probably be useless, if not dangerous. Blaine knew very well how mean teenagers could be and that poor kid seemed to know it just as well. The bullies wouldnt care that it was a teacher who reported the fact - they would turn the boys life into a living hell. Or maybe they already did. Admittedly, he didnt look too happy, curled on the floor and drenched in freezing slushie.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, saying nothing was probably the only way to avoid creating further problems. Blaine decided to investigate the situation - putting all of his effort into finding a way of helping the boy, seeing as apparently no one had done that for him so far.

“Okay. Im not telling anyone. Now what do I do?” Blaine wondered, stopping for a moment, then going back to pacing nervously. He felt that something just had to be done. Or said. But, for starters, he had no idea who that student was, neither did he feel like looking for him in every classroom of the building. And even if he did find him, what would he tell him?

He would have to explain what an awkward misunderstanding their brief encounter turned out to be: “Im sorry to inform you that your behavior towards a teacher was profoundly inappropriate,” he smacked his forehead just at the thought of a conversation like that. He let out a tiny whimper: why, among all the teachers in that school, did it have to be him who found that boy? Why did he let it slip that there were actually two gay guys in that room? Why didnt he take up on that job offer to teach PE in New Mexico, instead of going to Lima?

Coffee.

Blaine needed scalding coffee and, with some luck, he would find the teachers lounge that Figgins showed him the week before. He headed to the door but stopped short before he reached it. The nameless boy had forgotten his t-shirt and it was now lying crumpled up in one of the sinks. Without thinking twice about it, Blaine took it – it was still damp from the water and syrup - and a delicate scent of vanilla, combined with the sharper one of mint engulfed him.

Unsure what he should do, Blaines eye fell on the t-shirts brand – Marc Jacobs – and thats what convinced him to take the piece of clothing with him. If he left it there, someone could throw it away or steal it. Or worse, that boy might accuse Blaine of having stolen it, maybe even telling everyone that he had seen the teen shirtless and Blaine had no established academic career in his past that he could hide behind. His mind was already conjuring images of Lima citizens, armed with torches and pitchforks, surrounding his apartment...

He shook his head, surprised by his own imagination and how far it could go if he didnt keep it in check. Blaine returned his gaze to the t-shirt; tomorrow he would bring it back to school, washed and ironed. He didnt really know who to give the garment to, since he still didnt know the kids name, but he trusted he would come up with a solution. Surely, the boy would appreciate that small attention, after all it was the least he could do to help him at the moment.

He left the toilets with the t-shirt in his fist and brought it to his classroom, where he carefully folded it so that the dry parts were on the outside, and put it in his bag. Sitting at his desk, he covered his face with his hands and leaned back in his chair.

Before he even realized, Blaines mind started spinning; images of smooth pale skin, bright blue eyes and brown hair flittering through his head. He thought of the boys initially hurt look, that suddenly turned so hopeful and then, just as unexpectedly, embarrassed. For the second time within the last minutes, Blaine shook his head to chase away thoughts he definitely shouldnt be having.

Coffee.

Now he really needed coffee. He stood up and walked towards the secretary office, where he remembered seeing the teacher's room. As he wandered in the hallways, he met two large boys, who were shoving around a much smaller kid.

“Give us the money. Come on, were not asking twice!” The poor boy was rummaging nervously in his bag, but the more they pushed him, the harder it was for him to grasp anything. Blaine quickened his pace and in a few steps, he reached the commotion.

“What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed with his most professional and authoritative tone. The two turned around, and while one seemed completely unfazed by his presence, the other looked a bit confused. It was clear as day that he was wondering who that guy was - coming and stopping them with so much confidence. As they turned their backs to him once again to continue tormenting the smaller boy, obviously deciding that Blaine wasnt worth their time, he decided that he had to change his approach.

“Okay then, lets go to the principal.”

Before they could add anything, Blaine grabbed them both by the front of their letterman jackets and headed towards the principals office. The two bullies only tried to struggle with him for the first few seconds until they realized Blaine wasn't going to back down as he successfully hid his fear of possibly being their new victim (especially seeing as they were much bigger than him).

When they reached Figgins office, both of the students were silent – not really because they were scared of what was to come, but mostly because they were too shocked to talk. In all these years, none of the teachers had ever cared much about what happened in the hallways, and in the worst of cases there had only been a playful remark. On the other hand, they all were very careful to check themselves when there were any teachers nearby. But who could imagine that that dwarf was a teacher? And that he even had the balls to intervene?

“Principal Figgins?” Blaine asked, stepping in the office and gently pushing the two reluctant boys to urge them in. The other kid, the victim of the bullies, sat outside with the secretary, clutching his bag to his chest.

“Good morning, Mr. Anderson!” smiled the principal. “I see that you got acquainted with some of our best football players, I didnt know you were involved in the management of the team.”

Mr. Figgins greeted the two boys just as cheerfully, who straightened their backs and smiled mockingly at Blaine. It was obvious that even the small amount of fear that could be seen in their eyes the moment before had vanished now, replaced by serene self-confidence.

“No, Im not involved in the management of the team. I just found these students in the hallway, during class, pushing around another kid and forcing him to let them take his money.”

Then the incredible happened. Figgins laughed, followed by the two bullies. Blaine watched them in shock.

“Anderson, I cant believe you let yourself be fooled! These big guys love to joke around, they would never steal money from anyone, neither would they ever lay their hands on them. Isnt that true, boys?”

The principal got up from his chair and gave two tiny punches on the football players shoulders, faking a small boxing match. Useless to say that Blaine watched the whole exchange speechlessly.

“Im telling you that I saw them with my eyes as they were shoving that boy. And I also heard clearly the threats they aimed at him to force his money out of his hands. This is only the first day of school, if were not doing anything now, what will they end up doing on the last day? Im sorry, but Im not used to turning a blind eye to this kind of acts and I expect these students to be punished.”

He spoke with such determination that Mr. Figgins stopped playing around with the boys and looked at him, a bit uncertain.

“But its only the first day of school...” he tried, shrugging as if to justify his reply.

“Exactly. Its only the first day. Its the second hour of the first school day and these kids have already skipped class and threatened, physically and verbally, a fellow student. If youre not going to deal with this personally, Im available for a few hours of detention today. Just as Im willing to meet their parents,” pressed Blaine, crossing his arms over his chest. He had no intention of backing down, that had to be clear.

Mr. Figgins sighed and sat down at his desk.

“Okay, then... Boys, today youll have two hours of detention as soon as class is over. Youll go to Mr. Andersons classroom, and hell decide what you'll do. Are you happy now?” he asked Blaine, visibly annoyed by the situation.

“Youre not doing me a favor,” Blaine answered pointedly, then he addressed the boys. “Ill see you at 3pm. Bring rubber gloves, you can ask the janitor for them.”

He ignored the boys  complaints and led them out of the office. As soon as they were gone, moaning about the their unfair punishment, Blaine returned to the poor victim of the bullies, who was still sitting just outside of Figgins office.

“Thanks,” he uttered with a hint of a smile.

“What class should you be in now?”

“Biology.”

“Good, Ill walk you to your classroom so I can explain to your teacher why youre late.”

The boy fixed the strap of his bag over his shoulder and followed Blaine. Obviously, Blaine couldnt remember where the hell the Biology laboratory was. How he managed to avoid getting lost during his three years at Dalton, where the buildings were about ten times larger than this hellish place, is a mystery to him.

***

Kurt was listening distractedly to his biology teacher when someone knocked at the classrooms door. To his surprise, Dean - the nerd who always seemed to have a cold - stepped in followed closely by the boy he met in the toilets about half an hour before. They did have class together then.

“Youre late,” Mrs. Jones told Dean, who sniffed noisily and ran to his desk, sharing a silent look with the boy behind him. Kurt watched that brief exchange, wondering why the other boy was so late to class and, especially, why Ms. Jones wasnt pointing it out, as she did with Dean.

“This is a note signed by me and the principal.” The boy handed out a sheet to Mrs. Jones, who read through it quickly and let out an exasperated sigh then he added, “Dean was with me.”

A possible explanation to the scene in front of him started to make its way into Kurts head, who stubbornly refused to let it come to the surface of his mind. There was only a very limited group of people who could sign Dean's late pass: parents and teachers. He obviously wasnt Deans father, who, Kurt knew, was a fifty year old man that only wore faded denim shirts, so this meant that...

“Oh God.”

Horrified, Kurt slid down against his back of his chair, hiding behind Puck and his girlfriend Lauren. Fortunately, Finn saved him a seat in the last row of desks, so it wasnt too hard to disappear from view.

“Dont forget about tonights meeting. All the teachers will be there,” said Mrs. Jones as she shoved the sheet into her register and shook her hand in the air, as if to shoo the boy – the teacher – away, so that he left the room.

Kurts face was burning up; he had emotionally restrained himself for years, he had never touched anyone who wasnt family or a close friend, and the only kind, cute boy that made him act impulsively turned out to be a teacher. What was wrong with him?

Was it because, at the last sale, hed snatched that Gucci belt out of that hags hands? Perhaps she had put a curse on him. Or maybe he had run over someones cat with his SUV.

“Dude, you okay?” Finn asked him, looking sleepy and completely oblivious to his step-brothers worries.

“What? I... Yes, Im okay! Its a bit hot in here, isnt it?” he replied, fanning his face with his hand. Everything would be fine; surely, he didnt have any classes with that teacher. They would limit themselves to a few awkward looks from afar, if they ever happened to run into each other in the hallways. Then they would just forget about their incident.

Or Kurt would just bury himself alive.

Or have a face transplant done.

… He would find a solution.

“Did you see? He managed to let Dean arrive late without any trouble but gave you a demerit instead. What an asshole.” Finn shook his head, going back to his most comfortable sleeping position on his desk. Kurt was petrified, and with his eyes wide, he turned to look at Finn.

“Who?” he asked, afraid to know the answer.

Not the new Lit teacher. Not the new Lit teacher. Not the new Lit teacher. Not the new Lit teacher. Please, not the new Lit teacher.

“Well, Anderson, of course? The new Lit teacher, with that weird name. Blaine... or something like that,” replied Finn, killing all of Kurts doubts.

Good. Just wonderful.

Now those two letters on the handkerchief had a meaning. He was still holding the object in his hand; he slowly opened his fingers and smoothed out the part of cloth with the two letters finely embroidered.

Blaine Anderson.

To give it back to him would certainly be embarrassing; even more now that it was all creased and sweaty. He decided that he would wash and iron it that same afternoon, that way he wouldnt add poor self-care to his already bad first impression. He opened his Biology book, trying not to think of how thoughtful Blaine had been as he dampened the towel with warm water before handing it to him, or how soft his cheek felt against Kurts lips. Or how fast Kurts racing heart had beaten as he ran out of those toilets.

Because Kurt had already had crushes on cute boys before, he fell in love like a madman willingly falls down a well. He insisted, when he knew that Finn was straight and he did the same thing with Sam. He swore not to let himself indulge in unrealistic thoughts of love, at least not until hed leave this hell hole that was Lima; but as he saw that boy, that beautiful, kind and, well... gay boy, hed fallen right back into it. He even kissed him, for Gods sake! Thats because all Kurt wanted, deep down, was to be loved, held, cuddled and comforted. He wanted someone to whom he could talk freely, someone who knew all of his secrets and who accepted him as he was. Hell, he was only eighteen, he surely couldnt blame himself if he had thrown all that pent up desire on the first person who showed some care towards him.

Kurt scribbled distractedly on his notebook until that class was over, with Finn sleeping peacefully next to him, while he put back all of his hopes, one by one, in his mental drawer of projects for the future. He had time, and sooner or later he would find the one.

***

During break, Blaine mustered the courage to enter the teachers room. Inexplicably, as he stepped in, there was a short moment of silence, followed by a low murmur. As he walked from the door to the coffee machine in a path that now seemed to last forever, he could catch some sentences.

“Standing up against Figgins...”

“... Were not at Dalton.”

“The team spirit...”

“... Who does he even think he is?”

Blaine breathed deeply as he took a sugar sachet and sat at one of the few free tables. His eyes were cast low and fixed on his coffee cup, as he slowly stirred the sugar in the hot liquid. He was beginning to wonder if that punishment had really been the best thing to do, when a burly woman wearing gym shorts stepped into the room.

“Whos Blaine Anderson?” she boomed, looking very imposing with her fists on her hips. Everyone in the room turned abruptly to stare at Blaine, who was timidly raising his hand to answer the call. In a couple steps, the woman reached his table. She grabbed two donuts and a chair, then she straddled it.

“I was looking for you.” The room was dead silent, everyone was ready to enjoy the show where the new football coach tore apart the naïve teacher who dared give detention to two of her players. Blaine watched worriedly as she took a huge bite from a donut, eating half of it, before pointing her index finger at him.

“Im coach Beiste. Im new, too and may I be damned if this is not true, but Im glad someones gonna help me put those animals in line.” She dropped the donuts and stretched her hand out, still dirty with icing. Surprised, Blaine placed his spoon on the table and shook hands with her, saying nothing.

“Those are disrespectful beasts. Yesterday I held the auditions for the team and it was the hardest thing Id even done in my life. They wouldnt listen to me or do what I told them to do. And Ive been coaching for fifteen years non-stop. My game strategy is simple: play well and play fair. If someone doesnt respect the other players, the coach or the patterns of play, it usually means that they have no respect for people out of the field, too. So I respect you, Blaine. I finally found someone who thinks like me.”

He smiled quietly and sipped his coffee, then they started chatting about this and that, until Emma Pillsbury reached their table.

“Er... Im sorry to interrupt you. It's Blaine, right? I wanted to ask you if youd like to come with me after break, I have an idea for todays detention.”

Blaine nodded in assent and smiled at her as she reached for a chair to sit. Emma sat with them for the remainder of their break, sipping some herbal tea from her thermos and looking mildly scared as coach Beiste told them about that time a chicken bone got stuck in her throat. The bell finally signaled that class was about to start again so coach Beiste shook hard both of her new friends shoulders, as a way of saying goodbye, and left in direction of the gym, leaving Blaine and Emma alone.

“What did you plan to do during those two hours of detention?” asked Emma, placing her thermos on the table and her hands on her lap. “I heard that the kids asked for rubber gloves to one of the janitors, so I guessed that giving them something to study wasnt your plan.”

Blaine shrugged. “Theres always some part of the school thats disgustingly dirty. I thought I could make them clean up something really filthy; thats usually a good deterrent.”

She shivered at the very idea.

“Then I had guessed right. Come with me, I have a suggestion for a place to let them clean.”

She stood up and motioned for him to follow her out of the room. They didnt have to go too far, Emma stopped in front of one of the main toilets, down the hallway where great part of the classrooms overlooked.

“These are the boys toilets,” she explained, opening the door. “I wanted to wait for break to end, to be sure that no one would be here. Look, its been like that for at least two years.”

At first, Blaine didnt understand where exactly he had to look. They seemed to be regular toilets, well as regular as the boys toilets in a public high school could be – a soap dispenser was broken, the bins were overflowing with paper towels, there were water puddles all over the floor under the sinks and the walls were full of writing.

“I dont understand, do you want me to make them clean the toilets?”

“Not exactly,” she replied, taking a few steps towards the tiles covering the wall next to the sinks. “Id like you to make them rub these out. And the ones covering the cubicles walls, too. I have already wiped them off myself at least a few times, but within two days they had already written on all of them again, some even worse than before. We dont know who is to blame for them, but we do have suspects. Perhaps if we make them clean up and tell them that theyll have to do the same thing every time the writings reappear... Perhaps theyll stop.”

But Blaine wasnt listening anymore by now.

Because he had started reading those writings that at first he hadnt even noticed: with the exception of few, all of them referred to the same person. He paced slowly in front of the writing, while reading some of them – Kurt Hummel cocksucker, Kurt is a fairy, Hummel fag... and so on. Some came with small drawings that all looked quite explicit and vulgar, it was clear to whom they were referring.

“But... How...” It didnt take very long for Blaine to make the connection between the Kurt Hummel who didnt show up to his class earlier that morning and the boy he met in those toilets in the least frequented part of school. It was clear that he couldnt use the ones where Blaine and Emma were at the moment.

Blaine was shocked by the cruelty and cowardice that those writings represented. He turned towards Emma, who was watching him quietly.

“It all began two years ago, when Kurt was on his second year. No one knew that he was gay, but he had such an obvious crush on Finn Hudson that his coming out wasnt really necessary.” Blaine recognized that name and immediately stopped her.

“His step-brother?” he asked bewildered.

“At that time they were only classmates, their parents only got married a couple months ago. Since people at school found out about Kurt being gay, he became the bullies favorite target. Any excuse is valid for them to carve insults on his car, pour slushies on him or add some new phrases to these walls,” she replied forlornly.

“But the principal-”

“Kurt explained his situation to the principal more than once, but there are no witnesses, everyone denies and things are always solved and filed as boyish pranks. I thought we could at least help him by giving him the chance to use the school toilets without having to read these obscenities every day. What do you say?” she smiled sadly, a bit unsure.

“You had a great idea, Emma. Ill get all the necessary items to clean this up, Ill probably need some kind of solvent.”

“You can find everything you need in my office, Ill show you the way.”

As they left the room, Blaine tried not to let her see just how affected he was by what he had read on those walls.

Or how they had reminded him of the writing he used to find on his locker years ago.

Or how the teachers and principals attitude was similar to his old school, before he transferred to Dalton.

Or how he feared that the same scars he wore himself could damage another boys skin.

That boys, in particular.