CHAPTER 2 

On Monday afternoon Kurt and the other three cheerios find themselves in the choir room, among people who have absolutely no reason to like them and no reservations to make use of their well-exercised vocal chords to express their displeasure.

“But Mr. Schue, they’re cheerios!” Kurt winces at the shrill exclamation. Rachel Berry, of course. Everyone knows her, though not exactly in a good way. Small, loud, stuck-up. And paranoid, it turns out. “Coach Sylvester sent them here to destroy us, you know that!”

The curly-haired man in the middle of the room raises his hands, placating. “Rachel, sit down. Now, I know we had our conflicts with Sue –“ Someone behind Kurt snorts. Puckerman? It’s good to know they’re not the only ones risking their reputation here. “As I said, we have a deal with Coach Sylvester. We get the new members that we need for Sectionals next week, and she gets them singing for the cheerio competition.”

“How do we even know they can sing?” An Asian girl this time, with blue streaks in her hair. At least she keeps it calm, more curious than agitated; Kurt really has had enough of the noise they’re all making. It’s like a flock of parrots.

Mr. Schuester smiles at them before answering. It’s probably meant to be reassuring, but feels somehow creepy instead.

“They’ve auditioned with me already since I didn't want to waste practice time here; and I assure you they sing well. You’ll hear by yourself soon enough – I’m sure they will be a valuable addition to the club. Now, we may not be able to give our new members more than background parts in our Sectionals performance, but later, we’ll use their voices better.”

Kurt sighs in his chair at the back of the room. Great, he’ll have to take great care not to display his real range and abilities. It was easy enough to sing just well during the audition, but Kurt is very aware of the fact that he can do much better than that. Much, much better.

He has no interest in being pushed into a solo or any prominent position, really. Not here. Not after he put so much effort into training himself to speak in a lower voice, always calm, composed, because his unusually high pitch is more pronounced when he’s stressed or excited. And he’s been taunted enough for it, years ago. He’ll be fine swaying in the background, if he really has to be here. Being in Glee club because Coach made them join is understandable. Revealing his love for singing and the range of his voice? He’d already been shown in middle school what these “flaws” can earn him.

“I think it’s great to have new voices join us. It will give us greater vocal diversity and more song possibilities.” An easy smile flashes across the choir room and Kurt quietly thanks years of Cheerio practices for his quick reflexes as he manages to suppress the little jolt at the sight. Right. Of course he would be in Glee club too.

“Well sure you would, Blaine, you probably have the same goal in mind, which is making sure we don’t win.” Rachel seems to be on some sort of crusade and Kurt begins to really understand why so many of the girls hate her. He feels the beginnings of a headache.

Mr. Schuester tries to regain some sort of control over the group again. “Okay, guys, we’ve already been over this. No one is here to destroy the group – not Sam, not Blaine and certainly none of Sue’s cheerios.”

“But Mr. Schue –“

“Enough, Rachel. We don’t have time for this. Sectionals are next week and we still haven’t finalized our setlist. Let’s get to work.”

Kurt tunes out most of the next hour and a half, going through the motions of vocal exercises and dance moves effortlessly, his mind occupied with one particular person in the room.

Blaine Anderson. Someone who shouldn’t be even a blip on Kurt’s radar, unless he decided to pick up bullying after all – which he wouldn’t, ever. Somehow, though, there’s something in this boy that’s been pulling at Kurt’s attention for months now, ever since he came to McKinley. A very particular something, a thing that connects them, makes them more similar than anyone might suspect. Because Blaine is gay. He’s the only teenage gay boy Kurt’s ever known.

Apart from himself.

This is something that Kurt can’t stop thinking about. Not in a romantic way – god, no; he’s with Quinn and that’s it. But there’s something about Blaine that resonates within Kurt, though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.

Being out and proud in high school requires insane amounts of courage – and doesn’t come without a price. Sometimes, in the darkest night hours Kurt imagines being so courageous. Coming out to his dad and his friends instead of hiding it like the most shameful secret. Not pretending anymore. Being who he is. But then he remembers the cost of such freedom.

Whenever he sees Blaine slushied or pushed into lockers, or tripped in the cafeteria during lunch – which happens all too often – Kurt’s mind flashes back to the past he wants to forget; long-healed bruises and scars flaring with phantom pain like an echo.

He knows the feeling – the pain, the humiliation, the desperation and dread. He spent all of his middle school years getting into close relationships with lockers and dumpsters, toilets and slushies. And it was just because he was small and delicate-looking, with a high, girly voice and passion for learning. So he made sure he’d survive high school in one piece – built a façade around himself, hid the real Kurt Hummel somewhere very deep and did what he could to be untouchable.

Now, whenever he looks at Blaine, he can’t help but think, over and over again: It could have been me.

And after months of trying not to pay attention to the boy, Kurt’s about to spend almost every afternoon in his company. Great, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate - keeping his grades perfect without people noticing, cheerleading, being half of the power couple of McKinley High, and now Glee. And he’ll need to fight his stupid instincts to be nice and, surprisingly, protective of Blaine, too. Ugh. Faking disdain and amusement, hiding his unhealthy fascination has been hard enough from afar.

And Blaine’s easy, open smile really doesn’t help anything. How can he still be so kind and trusting with what he’s going through every day here? How is this even possible? He should be afraid and depressed by now, almost four months into the school year, but no – he’s still smiling and nice and eager, and it breaks something deep in Kurt that he didn’t know could still be broken; knowing that Blaine’s still strong and whole, and even more so, that he won’t be like this forever. That sooner or later, he’ll turn weary, broken and afraid, just like Kurt. Like so many others.

He’d like to be able to prevent it.

Santana approaches Blaine after practice, her signature sultry smirk in place, and Kurt wants to stop her, knowing full well what she’s planning. But he doesn’t, of course, schooling his face into cold indifference and turning his back instead, pretending to be busy fiddling with his shoelaces. He can’t help hearing them though; Santana’s seductive tones loud enough to make the scene clear for everyone, and as humiliating as possible.

“Well hello, gorgeous. We didn’t have a chance to hang out yet, and by hang out I mean sleep together. So what do you say? You can take me to Breadstix tonight, and then to your house or a hotel, if you prefer.”

All movement around them stills as people stop gathering towards the exit and slow down to watch the free entertainment. Blaine’s answer is calm, well-mannered. “Thank you, Santana. You are a beautiful girl and if I wasn’t gay I would be honored, but as it is – “

Kurt clenches his teeth and dares to glance towards them. He knows Santana’s mean streak much too well to hope she’d give it a rest now.

Yep, here it comes.

“Oh, I bet you just never had a chance to try it with a girl in that gay school of yours. I’m sure I could turn you straight, what do you say?”

There are quiet snickers all around and Kurt bites the inside of his cheek to keep his anger in. Santana’s hand is on Blaine’s chest, sliding steadily lower until he jerks back, clearly speechless, his eyes wide. It’s not an unusual reaction to Santana’s bluntness, but Kurt can see – and understand painfully well – that this time it’s not lust tying the boy’s tongue. He has to react, trying as he can to keep his tone bored.

“’Tana, leave him in peace, you don’t have to sleep with every guy in the school.”

She smirks and slips in the familiar come-back. “Well no, I still haven’t gotten in your pants, Pretty Face.”

Quinn glares at her and Kurt snorts. “Good luck with that. Come on, we’ll be late for practice.”

Santana grabs her bag and follows Kurt, Quinn and Brittany out, but in the door she turns once more to look where Blaine still stands, stunned. “Your loss, Anderson. You’ll never have such an opportunity in your life again.”

Puck and his friend, Finn, laugh loudly, and Kurt notices the way Blaine’s face crumbles just for a second before regaining its usual friendly expression. Seconds later the wall separates him from the view of the choir room.