The members of the Warbler cut off with precision, the harmonies of their last notes hanging in the air for a second before they began to congratulate each other on the number.

Kurt still stood in the door way, frozen.

The moment Blaine had opened the doors the boys had broken into song, Blaine leading them.

As they had moved around the room, choreographed in perfect unison Reed had slowly, perhaps unconsciously, began to move to the music himself and ever so slightly edge into the room. It was dorky but endearing, not to mention definitely rhythmic the Warblers who caught sight of his movements noted, amused.

Blaine was busy trying to catch Kurt's eye, to engage him and try to get a sense of his opinion on the number. He found with delight that for once Kurt was looking up for more than a second instead of gluing his eyes to the floor except for fleeting glances, as was normally the case. However he noticed that despite the fact that Kurt was standing right there staring at the Warblers, his gaze seemed distant.

As the song went on Blaine utilized every charm and trick his stage personality possessed to no avail. As the number drew to a close he was openly holding Kurt's gaze, but he still had not moved and inch, his face maintaining an impassive expression.

Blaine couldn't make sense of it. People always found the Warblers' numbers to have a contagious energy. Reed certainly did, as he was now rocking out unabashedly and even singing along a bit, in a lovely tenor no less. Of course when the room fell silent his movements quickly stilled as he became cherry tomato red. Realizing that his actions had caught the attention of several Warblers, he looked like he was about ready to sprint for the door, but Wes managed to grab his arm first, immediately jumping into questions about interest and experience and voice part while Reed, again, looked star struck.

Blaine shook his head at the interaction and turned his attention back to Kurt, making his way over to the boy, slightly nervous at his strange complete lack of reaction.

Kurt stood frozen on the doorstep, his heart racing and his mind blank, or at least desperately trying to be. Kurt tried with every fiber being to not let the performance, the belted notes, the charming dance steps and the show smiles get to him. He fought how they conjured up images of a lifetime of performances that he would never have again. Because it was wrong, he tried to tell himself. But he couldn't feel it, only a burning desire to be part of it again; along with a kind of despair and incredible confusion that he couldn't, at least not yet. He owed Miss Rowe at least the respect of following her advice.

He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but he had no idea how powerful watching a performance again, would be. Especially since it was just a practice, no audience, no stage; low-key really. Just a couple of guys enjoying music, like Blaine had said. Not really comparable at all, and yet…

"So, um, what did you think?" Blaine asked hesitantly.

Kurt jumped slightly, startled. He had been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed Blaine coming over to him.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"The song, what'd you think? I know it still some work, but we are still practicing and…" Blaine babbled, trying to make up for what was apparently an unimpressive number as far as he could tell, much to his disappointment.

As Blaine spoke Kurt realized how he must have taken his silence, having had been in that position, and quickly stopped him.

"Oh! Yes, of course, sorry. It was good, really really good." Kurt assured Blaine, breaking out of his reverie with an encouraging his smile, surprising himself with the action.

It surprised him that he was able to come up with such an easy, conventional compliment, because a few months ago his response would have been quite different. The boy on the far left, second row back turned a fraction a second later than the rest of you going into the first chorus. Someone on the baritone third line harmony was slightly sharp on the high notes. Your beat boxer didn't breathe deep enough going to the bridge and missed two beats at the end….

The list went on, even only partially taking it in Kurt's mind had cataloged each misstep; and yet as a result of some mixture of training for the last couple of months and Blaine's hopeful expression as he asked "You think so?" he instead found himself saying, "Yes, it was quite…entertaining!" with a smile and a nod for emphasis.

It wasn't untrue, not at all. When Kurt thought about the performance it was genuinely enjoyable and high quality. His previous thoughts had much less to do with the Warblers short-comings and more with the fact that it was only in the last few months that he'd been introduced to the idea that things could be judged on how good they were, rather than assessed for fault; that seeking out error and correcting it was by no means the only possible form of evaluation.

"Thanks! We try." Blaine said, grinning wide. He was relieved that Kurt had indeed liked the performance. However he noticed that his eyes had quickly regained that kind of far off look and, concerned, was about to ask him if anything was wrong, when Wes gave the gavel three sharp raps of the council table.

Kurt's head snapped towards the noise, while his eyes retrained themselves on the floor. It was an odd combination of actions to observe but Blaine chose to ignore it, for now.

"C'mon, let's sit down," he said placing a hand on Kurt's back and guiding him to one of the couches where Reed was already sitting, all but bouncing in his seat. The tense he felt under his fingertips at the gesture was slight, controlled, but not undetectable. Still Blaine said nothing, sitting down, cataloging it all away for a later time.

"I now call this meeting of the Warblers to order," Wes began, the room having had finally fallen quiet as everyone found a seat.

"First, I'd like to welcome Kurt and Reed. We're glad to have you and hope you enjoy what you hear today," Wes continued grinning their way.

"Next, I'd like to say congratulations; "Teenage Dream" is becoming quite the hit of the number. Thad, David, and I have decided to put it in the running to use at the Sectionals competition so please mull it over and bring your opinions on the matter to the next meeting."

"Moving on our first order of business is..."

"Blaine?" Kurt whispered.

"Yeah?" Blaine responded looking at Kurt to see that his eyes were flickering between Wes, and of course predominantly the floor, his forehead creased in apparent confusion.

"Is Wes not a student?"

"Oh." Blaine said understanding, "Yeah, Dalton likes to have students take upon responsibility and leadership positions so we don't have a director. Instead we elect a council of upperclassmen to run the club. Which is a lot of fun for us, as long as Wes doesn't get to gavel happy," he sniggered.

At this Kurt's brow only furrowed further in confusion. "So it's just you guys. You get to make all the decisions? You don't have a ma—" Kurt cut himself off realizing what he was about to say. No, of course they didn't have one of those. But surely they had some kind of authority figure calling the shots? He searched his brain for an appropriate term but came up short. What word had Blaine used? "Um, I mean a director? What would he be doing if you had one?" he asked, trying to figure out if that was what he meant.

"Oh, basically managing everything. You know, teach us about music, make song selections, divide us parts, give solos, teach choreography, keep us from getting into too much trouble, would certainly have his work cut out for him there. I suppose things can get a little more hectic this way, but I don't know, I'm glad for it. Kind of makes it feel like the music is more our own, you know?"

Kurt let out a half shocked sigh, half breathless laugh, saying "Yes, I suppose." From Blaine's description he decided "director" had been the word he'd been looking for, even though it still seemed less intense than he could imagine, and they didn't even have one! Sure this council thing seemed to hold some power but still, they were part of the group, the music was really their own thing. And that amazed Kurt.

Blaine's words reminded Kurt of what Miss Rowe had said about him needing to learn enjoy music for himself. He knew he needed to work on that alone for a while, but maybe in time the Warblers could help him. For as much as the way Miss Rowe explained it made sense, he really wasn't sure how to go about the whole process. He loved performing, but that sentiment had always been tied to the fact that he had to, and even with everyone telling him he didn't have to anymore, understanding what that meant and adjusting was going to require some work, and some help.

It required an existence that'd he been absent from. That he'd have to learn from scratch essentially.

All the sudden Kurt's inner dialogue was interpreted as people got up and began moving furniture around. He quickly realized that they were going to work on some choreography and found a seat on the windowsill out of the way while they worked.

"Oh my word, this is incredible. How are you so calm Kurt? They're amazing! Wes was saying…" Reed gushed as he started settling in beside Kurt but just then Wes gestured to him as he walked close past the pair on his way into formation.

"How about we see if you can pick up moves as impressively as you create them?" he asked warmly."

"Okay!" Reed said, standing up and taking a step forward. He frowned slightly and turned back when he realized Kurt was not doing the same, "C'mon Kurt."

Kurt tensed but before he could do or say anything Wes interceded. "I think he's fine for now. It'll be good to have someone tell us how we look," he said pushing Reed towards a position at the opposite end of the stretch of boys. Reed looked back questioningly at Kurt, but let himself be guided away.

Wes liked to think he was fairly perceptive and intuitive person. It wasn't arrogance; it was confidence, and more so truth. He didn't need to know someone long or even much about them to get a general feel for how to work with them, as was often his task as president/council member etc. at more than a few of the school's clubs. The same traits and his talent at simply reading what people needed made him one of the school's top choices for a mentor/guide/friend to new students, particularly those involving transfers with unpleasant back stories. In fact he was second to only to Blaine, the boy he'd originally mentored himself. He smiled fondly thinking of how far he'd come.

Wes wasn't Kurt's mentor and he didn't know his story, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a friend to the boy; that he couldn't help him with what was apparently quite the adjustment. He didn't know why he refused to meet your eyes when you spoke with him, but he could tell it wasn't with the fear that bullied kids generally did, at least not solely. Those kids would increase eye contact the more you spoke with them, and when you got them talking they abandoned avoidance all together. And without fail if you surprised them in any way or sparked their interest their eyes would shoot up to yours.

At lunch he had been able to see Kurt smiling as the group conversed, asking questions to Blaine every now and again, but no matter how engaged his eyes never snapped up. Side-glances yes, but never quick eye contact. He'd just seen him meet Blaine's gaze once in the hallway as they made their way to classes after lunch. It had been a concentrated effort, no mistake, and yet a…struggle? These were the things Wes noticed.

And what these things suggested to Wes was not that Kurt came from a bad social situation, as was the norm, but from something closer to a non-social existence, or at least one entirely accustomed to typical culture. What exactly that entailed Wes couldn't really imagine at this point but it did make him readjust his strategies.

For instance, anyone who mentioned any kind of interest, and the demonstrated talent, he tried to get involved in the Warblers. The guys made great friends and music was a great way to express oneself and let out emotions. Yet when Blaine had said that they needed to not try to get him to participate he hadn't questioned it. One because Blaine was as enthusiastic about music and the Warblers as he was; Wes trusted his judgment so if he was asking this there must be a good reason. But also because Kurt was different, as noted, was so wrapped up in his own world, it would take time to unravel him, and time for Wes to figure out how.

So it was with his wonderful innate ability to smoothly manipulate that he deterred Reed's attempt to involve Kurt without allowing a chance for Kurt to have to search for an excuse.

Taking his place, which he'd situated Reed next to so he could teach him the moves, Wes called out the first four beats and the boys began.

Kurt's skin itched with the desire to join in. He'd been so close when Reed had turned back with that "C'mon Kurt." An order. His muscles had tensed reacting immediately but before he could move Wes had undone it. It wasn't an order, Kurt knew, (well really the first wasn't either but it was phrased like one and hey, baby steps); Wes wasn't saying he couldn't join, but he was not offering either, and that was enough for Kurt to be able to resist the call to perform.

That didn't mean it was easy. The steps were simple; he had them down with the first run through. It felt so odd, to just sit and watch. To not run a routine to perfection.

The boys smiled while they worked…a lot. Not a mere single one of accomplishment at the end. But continuously and frequently, with small chuckles and bellowing laughter not even, but most particularly, when they stumbled over each other or their own feet every now and again.

Blaine's smile was constant and his enthusiasm tangible. It didn't matter whether it was practice or a full crowd at a show-choir competition. Every aspect of and opportunity to perform music filled him with life. This was his passion.

They are enjoying themselves, Kurt thought. Enjoying practicing a performance. It shouldn't be a strange thing to observe. Kurt after all enjoyed practicing performing, it was as essential to his well-being as breathing. But it didn't look anything like this. There was substantial difference between Kurt's years of experience and what he was now watching. Neither bad, in his mind, but shockingly incongruent.

Soon enough they finished practicing and Wes called David and Thad, the other council members over for a short conversation before Wes turned to the rest of the group and whistled to gain their attention as they chatted.

"The council would like to extend to Reed and invitation to audition for the Warblers next week. All in favor?"

All the hands in the room rose, a few boys standing close enough clapping Reed on the back who was again cherry red but grinning so wide it looked as though his face may rip apart any second.

"Any opposed?" All the hands went down. "Good, then Reed Van Kamp, I formally invite you to audition for the Warblers next Tuesday at. Congratulations, pick something good. Meeting dismissed," Wes said and the boys began to filter out of the room.

Before exciting Wes came over to Kurt. "I hope you had fun Kurt, you are of course welcome back anytime," he said.

"Thank you." Kurt said earnestly but made no other comment; he didn't know if he'd be coming back, if he could.

Luckily he was saved from having to continue as Blaine broke through the surge of boys moving the other way, clapping him on the shoulder or stopping him for a quick question as they passed.

Seeing Blaine walk up Wes grinned. "Great practice today, man."

"Thanks! I really like teenage dream, it definitively has my vote."

Wes shook his head, "Your addiction to Katy Perry is boundless."

The two laughed lightly. Then noticed that Kurt had moved, not towards the door though, he was staring out the window.

Wes and Blaine shared a look and Wes nodded, "See you later," he said swiftly exciting.

Blaine went over to Kurt, rocking on his heels as Kurt continued to stand in front of the window, though Blaine could now see that his eyes were actually closed. "Penny for your thoughts?" he ventured.

Kurt's eyebrows crinkled as his eyes blinked open, gaze dropping immediately.

"I'm sorry?"

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine clarified, reminded himself not to use expressions.

"Oh, I was just thinki—I mean wonder—I just—" Kurt was instantly flustered, trying to find the words to respond honestly and appropriately.

"You know what? My bad, not my business. Sorry." Blaine said quickly, once again caught up with how hard Kurt was trying to just function. He would guess that a lot was on Kurt's mind all the time. One day of showing him around in no way entitled him free access to that information, and he feared that if asked Kurt would offer it up, whether he really wanted to or not. The thought hurt Blaine. He wanted Kurt to trust him, not just with telling him stuff, but knowing he could do it on his terms, no pressure, no questions asked. That was something Blaine was completely prepared to work to earn though.

Kurt relaxed when Blaine withdrew the question as he had been at a complete loss, having a million thoughts and no words to say them. Not even the general social sense to know what he should say, where to start, what was too deep for a conversation starter.

"If there's anything you want" Blaine stressed the word "to talk about though, we can. Like anything. I'm here if you need it," Blaine said, hoping got his point across.

Kurt sighed. Why couldn't he just tell him everything? It was too all too confusing, too new to handle on his own. Miss Rowe had encouraged him to try and make friends and experience "life." How could he even begin to do that though until he put the past behind him and "figured out how he was," as she had put it? How he was supposed to make that transition while living in this world if he had to pretend he was like everybody else, if he had to hide?

Miss Rowe had answered all these of course: he needed to find himself as a person of the real world, not the shell he lived in before, for which he needed to really live in it; and he needed to form who this new person was completely within his own mind, separate his new identity and interactions from the his prior manner, or at least as much of it as corresponded to the role he had played. Most of all though he needed to learn to evaluate and decide things, like who was truly worthy of his trust, for himself. Need to allow time for that opportunity because when it came, it would all make sense and he'd be in the clear.

She'd been very patient in explaining it all, except of course the last, because, well by definition she kind of couldn't, he had to learn it himself. In the moment though it was all too overwhelming to process and he…just…HOW?

Kurt took a deep breath to calm his rapid thoughts. Baby steps, Miss Rowe's voice echoed in his mind, baby steps, that's how. Goal number one: isolate the positives of his relationship with music and performing. If he got that he could manage the rest.

Step one: gather information. Logical progressions, it'd been and remained a large part of his therapy. Procedures by which he could acclimate himself to the world. So how do you gather information, you ask questions.

Blaine wanted to talk to him, to help him, with no hidden aim as far as Kurt could tell. He couldn't tell why but he decided to believe that he was being sincere. Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps Kurt's sheltered life had made him too quick to trust, or more so not entrusted him with the natural instinct to withhold information because he'd never had the option.

Nonetheless one innocent little question couldn't hurt. He was supposed to ask questions.

He took a deep breath, "Blaine?' he barely whispered, hoping his logic was right.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question, it's probably kind of weird?"

"You can ask me anything Kurt." Blaine's mind cringed slightly at the clicheness of the phrase but he ignored it, because clich� or not it was true.

"You love music right, and performing?"

"Very much so yeah, I don't know what I'd do without it."

Kurt laughed a slight bitter laugh internally, You have no idea.

"Well…why? I mean could you describe what it means to you, how you feel about it?" They were questions Miss Rowe had asked him to which he'd drawn a blank. Not for lack of words but for simply not understanding what she wanted. He loved music and performing, what else was there?

"Oh," said Blaine taken aback. It had not been what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't unwelcome, if he could have a conversation about music with Kurt he would call the day a pretty big success. He smiled at the thought.

"It's hard to put into words I suppose; I mean I've always been better with music than words. That's part of it I guess, it's so easy to express myself, and express emotion, whether it's good or bad. Pent up aggression, sorrow, so happy you'll just burst if you don't let it out? Music can channel it all, filter it out or through you and just…make you happy. It makes me happy. There's nothing else like it. And it's something no one can take from me you know?"

He looked at Kurt for confirmation but the boy just continued to stare out the window, eyebrows knit in confusion. No apparently he didn't know.

"How can I explain it?" Blaine huffed gesturing in circles with his hands as if that would make the words come. "It's like, well sometimes, when you're really into the music if you just stop take a second to close your eyes…" he did so indicating for Kurt to follow him.

"And you just see it, everything you feel, the good I mean, the way you feel about music. And it's not like you see other things obviously. It's colors and joy and peace and just…Everything else falls away for a second as it fills you up. It's part of you, that's why I think it's so hard to explain, because I imagine that moment is different for everyone. It's personal. When you perform you get to share the joy of that intense relation, and it's exhilarating, yeah. But I think that is really just because it's an extension of that feeling fed back to you. But that personal peace it provides is the crux, you give into the music in all its wonder, letting it push everything else away and…" he sighed. "There's nothing like it."

He trailed off looking at Kurt but he had not seemed to move, showing no indication that any of what Blaine said was sinking in. Well duh it was super clich� and totally overdone. The kid asked why you loved music not an epic poem pouring your heart out about your obsession simultaneously display your weakness for sappy words when you're not allowed the communicative luxury of song. Yeah, smooth Blaine, he'll totally like you now. Rambling, clich� nerd who can't speak like a normal human being, there's a winner, he sarcastically berated himself, so much for hitting off a conversation.

"I'm sorry, I'm rambling, I don't know how to put it. I mean, how do you feel about music?" he said trying to shift the focus, plus he really wanted to get to know Kurt.

Kurt forced himself to look in Blaine in the eyes then. For one to process the earnestness there as Blaine asked about his feelings about music. Perhaps if he could come to accept the fact that people wanted to know things about them it would be easier to answer their questions.

More so though he was looking for the passion that had been in Blaine's voice as he spoke, hoping he could channel it even a smidge of it. Kurt couldn't imagine thinking like that, but perhaps if he could absorb just a little bit of it as he seemed to gush out of Blaine he'd be able to come up with his own answers.

And the passion was there, burning in his eyes. Yet it seemed to Kurt like there was an impenetrable glass wall between him and it. He could never speak about his experience in the way Blaine just had.

Blaine's breath hitched as Kurt met his gaze with a fierce intensity. Searching. After several second they feel just a tad.

"I don't know." The words were uttered with a heaviness that unnerved Blaine." "Thank you, for this. It was very kind of you to invite me, but I have to go now. Please excuse me," Kurt said stiffly.

And with that he flew out the room.

Blaine stumbled as Kurt flew past him, like a brick wall, a crumbling brick wall. Then he was gone, a deafening silence in his wake.

'What did I say?'