I spend the entire night dreaming safely and when I do open my eyes - and I actually realise what’s happening - a soft heat instantly floods throughout my body. Beginning at the hot, cherry blush of my cheeks and gushing downwards, towards the tips of my already warm toes. I have been woken up before, don’t get me wrong, and more often than not in a not so pleasant way, but I’ve never been woken up like this. I’ve never fluttered so peacefully into consciousness to find several supple fingertips ghosting over my face, nor have I had a delicate palm cupping so tenderly at my neck- in a bid to usher me safely back into the waking world. I’ve never woken up so serenely or fallen so profoundly into a pair of beautiful almond eyes - Kurt’s gorgeous, heart stopping eyes - and for a moment I forget everything. All of it. This affection, this purely delicate, intimate moment, is all I need to get by. This is everything I need to be okay again and it makes me feel so unashamedly exultant. One day soon, when I’m entirely ready, I know that those lips - those perfect, smiling, velveteen lips - that are beaming so warmly at me right now - will press against mine and spark my new life into existence.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Kurt whispers mellifluously at me, as my eyes try to focus on his face, he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, right next to the bed, his bright eyes searching mine thoroughly, for something unspoken, before he leans forward with complete ease and explicitly presses a lingering kiss, packed with love, into the unbridled mass of dark, untamed curls that make up my morning hair. I can feel my heart flutter in my chest.

“Morning.” I smile back sincerely at him, through my still sleep-filled eyes, and he pulls away from my slowly, repositioning himself on the carpet, one of his unwavering hands staying in it’s place; resting carefully on my neck and I‘m sure he must be able to feel the shift in my heart rate.

“God, Blaine.” He gasps softly, his eyes darkening dramatically as his pupils expand, “You look so beautiful right now.” Kurt finishes automatically and at that my body instinctively tenses. There’s pure want written all over his face and I suddenly remember my fears in that changing room the other day; I quickly dredge up the memory of being so worried that no one would ever look at me in that way - in the precise way Kurt is looking at me right now.

I watch him with shock and interest as his face shifts into something that looks a lot like regret and he bites down shyly on his bottom lip, this is without a doubt a reaction to my reaction, and then, almost as quickly as his face changed, he’s talking again, “Blaine. Am I allowed to say that? I mean, I know we’re not-- we’re not, you know, we’re not together yet.. but it’s still.. It’s still true. Is that okay? If I‘m coming on a little strong here you can tell me. I don‘t want you to feel uncomfortable, or anything bad for that matter. I know you’re not ready for more. W-what I‘m trying to say is: if it isn‘t okay to say stuff like that, you can tell me to stop.” He rambles aimlessly, his eyes growing increasingly wider with every passing word and his cheeks are starting to glow a brittle, blushing pink but he doesn’t even attempt to pull away from me, he doesn‘t try to create space between us, and I think I love Kurt for that.

“Kurt, just stop. Of course it’s okay.” I reassure him quickly, my hand reaching out to touch his arm- the arm that’s lying idly on the mattress next to me, our faces still mere inches apart, “You will be my boyfriend, Kurt. My first and only boyfriend.” I feel the need to point out and it earns me a small smile, “It was just a bit of a shock, that‘s all.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be a shock.” Kurt says just quickly, his voice still quiet but he’s clearly harbouring a new sense of confidence as the blush fades from his face, “You’re gorgeous, Blaine Anderson.”

“Kurt--” I start in protest as my cheeks begin to flush violently; it’s like the tinge from his own cheeks has gushed through his arm, down into my neck and up onto my face. My cheeks burning and shifting from what imagine to be a soft cherry into a deep fiery scarlet. I’m not used to this kind of attention. I’m very used to Kurt telling me he loves me and that I’m perfect and that I’m a beautiful person but this is decidedly different. Something has shifted between us since Kurt promised to wait for me and since last night - when he shared those beautiful stories with me about his mom - it’s something powerful, the change, and maybe it’s a little overwhelming but I’m not afraid of it. I’m not afraid at all. It’s something completely new and it’s utterly exhilarating.

“I’m sorry,” he confesses lightly, his eyes lingering on my cheeks as his irises shrink once more, “It’s probably a little bit early for flirting. Plus, it’s time for you to get up, sleepyhead. You have school today and I want to see you up and about before I have to leave.” He explains, his familiar eyes still on me as he runs his thumb over the sensitive skin of my neck and then pulls his hand away altogether.

His freed hands automatically move to straighten his tie. Kurt’s already dressed for school. His Dalton blazer squaring his shoulders off remarkably and framing his broadening chest flawlessly. It’s very distracting, looking at Kurt, watching his fingers as they move, it’s distracting enough for me to fight off my growing anxiety, anyway.

“I’m going up to make breakfast now; before Finn tries to feed himself and burns all of the pans. I’ll meet you upstairs, okay? When you’re ready, sweetheart.” He finishes, reaching out to grab one of my hands, lifting it too his face without hesitation and leaving a gentle kiss on my knuckles - like he had the day we sat thigh to thigh and promised to be each other’s future boyfriend. With that, Kurt stands, offers me a heart warming smile and heads towards the stairs. I don’t think today could have started any better. In fact, I think this could be the greatest start to a day ever.

I’m on my knees, in front of the chest of drawers that Kurt has kindly let me share with him - each draw has been carefully split in two, his items on the left, mine on the right, to underline our equality in this house, Kurt had told me- and I’m rifling through all of the shirts that I possess - because of the kindness of Burt and Kurt - with tremendously anxious, jittering hands. I clearly can’t do this, not properly, I just feel like slamming this stupid drawer shut, storming over to the bed that I‘ve just spent ten minutes making, burying myself deep under the covers, clinging to Kurt’s pillow, breathing him in and then crying my heart out.

I don’t know what to pick out for the best - I don’t know if I should wear a polo shirt or a button-down. I don’t know what colour to pick. I have no idea what jeans I should wear- blue or black. I don’t know if I should wear a cardigan (or which shade of red it should be). Maybe I shouldn’t wear a cardigan at all, though; maybe I should just wear my coat instead. I don’t know if I should dress like I usually would or whether I need to make an effort to tone myself down a bit. God, I really don’t know what I’m doing here and right now I just feel really, really sick. It’s not that I need Kurt to help me pick every single outfit I wear, it’s that I don’t know what I’m supposed to be at McKinley.

I need my blazer back.

That uniform was so much more than an extravagant dress code meant to make us all look like private school boys, it meant so much more to me as a person. It was a foolproof way for me to hide myself away while also allowing me to blend in perfectly. It was a way for me to survive - it stood for unity and safety and the hope of being okay and without it, without the option, I feel utterly lost. I feel like I’m stumbling around in the dark and I’m falling over ever single bump on the way. Like one of those stupid women in one of those stupid horror movies.

What if I get this drastically wrong? What if I wear something and because of that people tear me to shreds? I’m not as strong as Kurt is, I can’t handle that, not right now. I still have too much going on inside my head. The last thing I need is for my clothes to give them a reason to start on me. William McKinley isn’t like Dalton Academy - it’s not safe and as far as I can tell there’s not a single anti-bullying policy in place. To a boy who’s been bullied his whole life, in one way or another, that is an absolutely horrible, heart-stopping situation to put yourself in. In fact, I can feel my heart sinking as I try to cling to the feeling of Kurt’s fingers against my skin but even that can’t truly stop the dark cloud that’s forming in my mind. I suddenly feel ridiculously stupid for even agreeing to do this.

I let my head fall into my hands, the knees of my pyjama bottoms pressed tightly against the carpet, burning as I shift a little and a heavy sigh shudders out of my body. What am I doing? Am I just going to sit here all day? Until someone comes down here to find me? Didn’t I tell Ellen I needed to do this? For me? What am I so afraid of, really? I mean, sure, I seem to have a punch me sign hanging over my head but I’ve also gained two friends who are willing to follow me around all day, everyday and protect me. I have friends who believe in me. That’s what we are now, they’re my friends.

Blaine, you can do this. I tell myself, pulling my hands away from my face harshly and taking a series of deep, rolling breaths as my hands sit at my hips. Controlling my breathing like this always helps me calm down and it doesn’t let me down this time. I’m grateful for that, at least.

I give myself a moment before I reach back into the drawer and pull out a red plaid shirt - that I know Kurt is fond of - my black jeans - that hug me in all of the right places - and my underwear. I need to stop thinking so damn hard. They’re just clothes, I remind myself, it’s not the end of the world. Fashion is subjective. Style is individual.

I walk over to Kurt’s closet, with a thin bravado that I seem to have pulled from somewhere, and pull out the cardigan Kurt and I bought at the mall the other day before I head to the bathroom to get dressed. Hoping I can hold myself together, at least enough to get me upstairs so I can eat with my friends, and my family, before my first day back at school. I’m not looking forward to walking down those hallways today and the butterflies that wont stop fluttering in the pit of my stomach agree but I‘m going to try. Sometimes, trying is all you can do; I’m willing to give it a shot.

“You’ll be fine.” Kurt says, his sudden presence making me jump, I didn’t hear him coming down the stairs. There’s an understanding smile resting comfortably on his face as he steps into his small bathroom, closes the door behind himself, shuffles in behind me and whispers, in an exceptionally gentle tone, “Sweetheart, stop panicking.”

I watch him through the mirror then, as I try - once again - to complete the fruitless task of flattening my consistently unruly hair. I’ve been working on this for well over ten minutes and it never takes long for hair I’ve flattened to spring up again, mocking me.

Another patch of hair bounces up and an agitated sigh escapes me, I’m getting increasingly desperate when I catch Kurt’s eye in the mirror. I drag my gaze away from his concerned eyes shamefully, this shouldn’t be getting the better of me but today it is, and throw the comb that I’ve been clutching in a vice grip into the sink with a vicious clatter. My own frustration and nervousness eating away at me; twisting deep inside of me and leaving me with a nasty, bitter feeling.

I look down at the discarded comb in the sink and I stare at it until something inside of me just snaps.

“Why wont it stay down?! I hate my stupid hair!” I shout abruptly and Kurt instantly has his careful hands on my hips, his physical presence as soft and reassuring as it usually is, as he says,“Your hair is perfect. Stop freaking out, just for five minutes, Blaine.”

“They’re going to hate me.” I mutter then, in reply, and I can feel my face contorting, Kurt’s reflection just shakes his head once and then, from behind me, his voice comes, hushed but formidable, “No, they wont.”

“Kurt, we both know Karofsky’s going to hate me.” I remind him bitterly and I watch then as his reflection shrugs from behind me, “He’s one guy, stop worrying.”

“He has friends.” I impart logically, putting my palms on the cold porcelain of the sink, letting it take some of my weight. My shoulders sag. Kurt’s focused hands follow the change of my body and move to my waist, his thumbs automatically rubbing soft, soothing circles into my sides.

“You have friends too.” Kurt reminds me gently and I can‘t look at him now, I don’t want to cry, “You have Puck and Finn and Mike.”

“I don’t even know who Mike is.” I say defensively and when I eventually do look up Kurt is smiling fondly, “He’s on your side, Blaine, he got into a lot of trouble with the Principal for trying to help me out.”

“Kurt, I can’t do this.” I say quietly and my voice breaking just seems like a spiteful reflection of my confidence shattering.

I straightening myself up and pick the comb back up. It’s plastic teeth digging harshly into my palm as I squeeze it.

“You can do this.” Kurt says then, leaning forwards so that his head is resting on my shoulder and it looks so perfect there, “You can do whatever you want to do, Blaine. I believe in you-- you should believe in yourself a little more.”

I let a conflicted sigh fall out of my body.

“I can’t, though, I can’t even flatten my own hair, Kurt, why did I think I could handle this? I’m such an idiot. I’m such an idiot.” I mutter repetitively and Kurt’s fingers push against my skin a little. It doesn’t hurt, it just ensures that I’m looking at him, or at least his reflection, for what he says next.

“You‘re not stupid, do you hear me? Now stop making it worse. Your hair is fine the way it is. I wouldn’t lie to you about that and you can handle this.” I sigh then and search the reflection of his eyes before I whisper almost inaudibly, “I know. I know.”

“Just try to relax. I know why you’re so scared, Blaine, I know a lot is changing but you’re going to be fine. Okay?” Kurt says calmly, the soft hum of his words sending a shiver down my spine. His head is still on my shoulder and every low word he breathes against my neck is making me shudder. It takes a moment for me to focus again.

“No.“ I say then “Kurt, I can’t do this.” I repeat and something changes in the reflexion of his face then. Something very important. Though, I can’t quite put my finger on it. He stands a little straighter, his head moving away, and I can’t take my eyes off him now.

“Blaine, sweetheart, you keep saying that.. so, you need to tell me, right now, if you’re being serious because if you really don’t want to do this today it’s okay. It‘s not a problem; we can try another day. There‘s always tomorrow.” Kurt promises and a soft moan escapes my lips because he’s being so damn perfect again.

“No. Kurt.” I start decidedly, “I am going. I’m just nervous, that‘s all. I‘m sorry. God, you have no idea how long it took me to get dressed earlier.” I confess carefully and he nods, “You look perfect, Blaine, so don’t start worrying about that. And I know what it’s like to look at yourself in a mirror and start pouring questions on yourself-- questions that you can’t possibly answer but you don’t have to do that. You don’t have change yourself or fix anything. Nothing is broken, okay? Now, give me that comb, go upstairs and eat something. You‘re going to school today, Blaine Anderson, and they‘re going to love you. And if some people don‘t love you that‘s their loss, not yours, it’s theirs.” I spin on the balls of my feet then, to look at him properly and give him the comb I‘m holding, but when he touches it I don’t release it automatically, I let the plastic connect us for a while and when I finally do let my hand drop away Kurt smiles at me brightly and reaches a soft hand out to touch my shoulder, “Everything’s going to be okay and say it‘s not, due to some catastrophic unforeseen situation, you‘ll still have me, Blaine, we’ll still have us and no one can touch that. No one.”

Breakfast is the perfect blend of domestic chaos and domestic bliss that it usually is. Finn is talking animatedly to Puck, his hands waving everywhere - almost knocking his orange juice over at least twice as Kurt and I cringe from across the table, our fingers occasionally twitching just in case we have to reach out and stop the glass from toppling over and it’s contents spilling everywhere- but Finn doesn’t even seem to notice, not with a mouth full of bacon and a smattering of ketchup on his chin. Puck is laughing back at his best friend, sharing comfortable nudges with him and eating with as much fervour, though, he’s nowhere near the level of clumsiness that Finn has mastered.

Puck glances over at me occasionally, with eyes full of kindness and the sincerity in his face has me smiling back at him without thought. Kurt is sitting right next to me, our knees touching under the table, and he’s constantly moving between reading his history textbook, looking at me and watching Finn’s arms swing around as he cuts into the last of his healthy heart pancakes and slides the pieces carefully off his fork and into his mouth. I’m eating the last of mine when Burt walks in, dressed for work and heading straight to the coffee machine, he wishes us good morning as removes the full jug from the machine.

“You boys looks out for Blaine on his first day, do you hear me?” Burt says suddenly, as he fills a thermos and screws the caps on tightly, glancing back over his shoulder, at the table, where Finn and Puck have spun around in their chairs to look right at him as they both nod in unison. Kurt has stopped reading to look at his dad too.

“Yes, sir. You don’t have to worry about that, Mr. H.” Puck says astonishingly genuinely and Finn continues to nod his head in agreement.

“Alright and Puck if you need me to go to that parent-teacher thing that you guys have coming up, I can, okay? If your mom is busy with your sister, you’ve got me.” Even from behind, I can tell that Puck’s eyes widen as he stares at Burt. His body seeming to freeze.

“Really?” he says unusually quietly and Burt nods once, “Really, so you better start handing in your homework, young man. I will not have any of my boys falling behind, do you understand what I‘m getting at here?”

“Yes, Mr H.” Puck says, a smile evident in his voice, and as he turns back to his plate I notice that his eyes are practically sparkling. Finn spins around too and nudges Puck in the arm before they start eating and laughing again. Kurt and I largely ignored by them once more.

I watch as Burt walks past Kurt then and lays a soft hand on his shoulder, “You feeling better today, buddy?” he asks quietly and Kurt smiles up at his dad, “Much better and thank you, dad, for last night. I could tell you tucked me in.” Burt laughs lightly and shrugs it off, like it’s nothing, and I’m amazed that I’m the only one watching this heart-swelling exchange between father and son but Puck and Finn are just too busy talking to each other to notice the tender moment unfolding before them.

“If you ever need to talk about your mom or anything you can always call me, okay? Anytime, Kurt.” Burt urges and Kurt smiles, “I know, dad.”

“And you,” Burt starts softly, glancing over at me, his eyes searching my face quickly, “Don’t forget that you can do the same thing.” I nod and watch Burt manoeuvres himself around the table, behind Kurt, stopping briefly on his way out to hold his hand my shoulder.

“He means that.” Kurt says when his dad is gone. I watch as he wedges a bookmark into his textbook and then closes it altogether, stuffing the book into the bag that rests at his feet and then looking over at me, “You really can call him, or you can call me. If you need to talk about anything today, Blaine - thoughts, feelings, how crazy Brittany is, I‘m around.” Kurt finishes with a smile and I grin back at him.

“Brittany seems nice.” I say conversationally and he nods, “Oh, she is. She’s an absolute sweetie. But you’ve only met her twice, in passing, wait until you get to know her. She’s surprisingly intelligent, I mean, sure, she rarely passes a school test but she always knows when you need a hug or a smile and sometimes that‘s all that matters, you know?” We share a silent moment then before Kurt lays his hand on top of mine and says, “Listen, Blaine, I have to go now. Just-- just remember that you’re perfect, okay?” He asks earnestly, before he strokes a thumb lightly over my fingers and then pulls his hand away completely, reaching it down instead to pull his bag up off the floor and over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you later.” I say then and Kurt nods, “You can tell me everything when I get home.”

Kurt slips behind me, presses a soft hand against my back and then vanishes out of the door. My eyes follow him unconsciously and I find myself staring at the entrance of the kitchen until I hear the front door close. It’s then, when I turn back, that I notice that both Finn and Puck are staring at me knowingly. Little glints of happiness dancing in their eyes with something that looks a lot like acceptance and - rather unexpectedly- encouragement.

After that they both purposely involve me in their conversation but it isn’t hard and it isn’t forced. Finn even finds a moment to look at me and say, “Dude, that cardigan rocks.”

I just smile into my hand and listen to them talk enthusiastically about college football.

By half eight we’re at McKinley, in Finn’s car, in the student car park, and I’m absolutely terrified. I must look ridiculously awful right now because I could literally feel the colour drain from my face as I looked at the school‘s entrance earlier and now I‘m almost certain that I could actually be physically sick. Finn’s standing outside of his own vehicle, so Puck can give me a well needed, last minute pep talk. He’s sitting on the back seat, right next to me, and his face is incredibly sincere. I’ve never seen as much sincerity pour out of someone as I have out of Puck today.

“So, just come to me, okay?” He reminds me, for the fifth time since we‘ve been alone, “If someone says or tries anything, I’ll handle it for you. I promise, Blaine, they wont want to come near you again by the time I’m done. And if any of those assholes try to blackmail you, or whatever, telling you you’ve got nothing to back yourself up with they‘re talking crap.” Puck finishes lowly, fiercely, and my heart starts to thud. He’s being so protective, right now.

“Please, don’t start fights for me, Puck. I can’t…” I whisper nervously, my eyes fixed on spot just over Puck‘s shoulder, he nods instantly in understanding and I don’t have to finish that sentence with ‘the thought of someone I care about getting hurt, in a fight, because of me, it just hurts too much.’ for him to understand because he’s just like me. How tragic is that, when you really think about it? There’s at least two people attending McKinley whose father’s turned out to be monsters. I can’t help but wonder how many more there are because, statistically, I’m sure they exist and that makes my heart sink.

I can feel my own face fall.

“Look, Blaine, if you feel like you need a break today, or if you just need to stand outside with a friend for a while, just text me and I’ll come out too. I mean, I have to hand in my homework now, for Mr. H, but you’re my friend and friends come first, alright?” He says and I nod because I can do that - it wouldn’t be the first time I’d called Puck in a moment of pure desperation, would it?

“Going to a new school is hard enough, for anyone, but you‘re still dealing with your father’s bullshit and it‘s okay to feel overwhelmed. I understand how you feel when it seems like the whole world has screwed you over but one thing that will not screw you over is this damn school. I fucking promise you that and I have never, ever, lied to you.” He says firmly and I nod because it’s true. He’s never let me down. Not once.

“You’re bigger than this stupid place, Blaine, and I’ll make sure you get the qualifications you need to escape this backwards town. Maybe I’m meant to be a Lima Loser my whole life, maybe I’m not, that hasn’t been determined yet but you’re like Princess… you have this spark in you, this fight, like you’re gonna take the whole world by storm one day and you deserve to break free.” Puck finished honestly, his eyes shining with reassurance as mine shine with tears and I want to grab his hand and tell him that he’s not a Lima Loser, no way, but I don’t get the chance to because Finn knocks on the window and points over at a boy who’s heading straight towards us.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Mike.” Puck says then, patting my leg twice and climbing out of the car, I follow suit and by the time I’m standing next to Finn and Puck, Mike is in front of us all.

“Hey, man.” Finn says and Mike grins in reply and blurts, “Morning, Finn! Morning, guys!”

It would seem that Mike is infectiously cheerful.

Puck raises an arm then and says, “Blaine, this is Mike Chang. Mike, this is my bro, Blaine Anderson.” Mike nods once and automatically offers me his hand. He has manners, I think, before I wonder if he always greets new people like this or if he’s just being this kind because I’m Kurt’s friend and they’ve roped him into looking out for me. No one seems confused by his actions, though, so I guess it’s just the way he is.

“Hi.” I mutter as I reach out to shake Mike’s hand.

“Hey, Blaine, it’s an absolute pleasure to finally meet you.” he says and my cheeks start to flush.

“Look,” I start apologetically, “I don’t want to cause you any trouble or anything. I‘m sure you have better things to spend your time on.”

“No,” Mike says quickly, as his eyes widen, “No, no, it’s cool. A friend of Kurt’s is a friend of mine. Plus, these two boys tell me that you‘re pretty awesome. Do you sing?” He asks then, somewhat unexpectedly, and I nod my head.

“Yeah and I also love to play the piano.” I offer, surprising even myself, and Mike grins. Puck chooses that moment to offer me a proud smile and my heart swells. I’m making a new friend.

“That’s so cool. Do you play football at all?” Mike asks then, genuinely interested, and they’re all looking at me now. Waiting for an answer.

“I practise with Finn in the yard sometimes. And I-- I used to play a lot, when I was little, it was a horribly misguided attempt at impressing my father.” I finish quietly and I notice Puck’s hand twitch a little, his smile faltering when I glance at him. Something that looks a lot like hurt lingering in his eyes.

“Hey, no worries, man. It’s something you never really forget. If you want to join the team I’ll gladly run by a few things with you before you try out.” Mike offers with a truthful smile and I have to smile back at that because he barely knows me and he’s offering to give up his time to help me. Maybe it’s not so hard, making friends, maybe I’ve just never met anyone who wanted to get to know me.

“Thanks.” I say, before I add an automatic afterthought, “I’m not sure they’d want me on the team, though.” Puck reaches over then and effortlessly links his arm through mine and I really wish I’d never opened my mouth. It’s like he’s reminding me that I don’t have to worry about my sexuality and that it doesn’t change anything, like he did the last time he had his arm through mine. Puck’s words run through my head then- It doesn’t make you less of a person, less of a man. - even though we must both know that it obviously does matter to the jocks who chased Kurt out of this place.

“Hey.” Puck starts, swaying into me softly; making me look over at him, “Do what you want to, okay? Not what those bigoted assholes tell you you’re doing.”

“Yeah. I know. I know.” I say and the smile slowly returns to his face, “Good. You have English first, right?”

“Yeah.” I say and Puck smirks, “Well, apparently you’re really clever because you’re in Mike’s English class and he get’s A’s in everything.” He shoots Mike a smile and Mike laughs, “That’s because I actually do the work.”

“Oh, look, Britt’s here!” Puck says suddenly before he starts calling her over. His arm untangling from mine so he can wave at her with both arms, like he’s waving in a plane, like she might not have noticed us standing in an otherwise empty car park. As soon as she sees us, though, she runs over, arms loaded with pink folders; her cheerleading skirt bouncing as she moves. She’s beautiful - the kind of girl most boys would call perfect.

“Hey, guys!” She says cheerfully before her eyes lock on me, a relative stranger, and she tilts her head, “You’re Kurt’s special friend, right?” I smile at that, Kurt warned me about her lack of filter.

“Yeah, my name’s Blaine Anderson.” I say, offering her my hand, like Mike had offered his, but she just shakes her head. I pull my hand back like it’s on fire and I’m about to move my gaze to the floor when her light, childish laugh cuts through the air. Dragging my attention back to her face.

“Handshakes are for mom’s and dad’s, right? I’m not anybodies mom or dad. But do you like hugs?” She asks then and I look at her for a while before I nod my head and say, “Yeah, I do.” Because it’s true and how much damage can this girl really do?

“Can you hold these?” Brittany says, already handing her folders over to Puck who takes them without question. Then she has her arms around me and I can feel her smiling against my neck. Never in my life has a girl hugged me. Women have hugged me occasionally, women like Carole, but never a girl. This is something completely new and she’s so soft, just like Kurt.

“You smell like him.” She whispers then and it’s so easy to get caught up in her playful nature that I can’t help but whisper back, “Who?”

“Kurt, silly. You both smell delicious.” she says then and I can’t stop myself from breathing her in too.

“Well, you smell like fresh flowers.“ I offer quietly and she nods, “Santana bought it for me, do you like it?“ she asks then and I can feel her cheek moving against my neck.

“Yeah, it really suits you.“ I offer honestly and when she pulls back she spins a lock of her long, golden hair around her finger and says, “I like you a lot, Blaine Anderson.”

“I like you a lot too.” I reply truthfully, returning the sentiment, and she smiles a wide, toothy smile that almost completely takes my breathe away, “You’re not afraid to hug me back and I can tell you like it. So, we can be friends now, if you want to.”

“Yeah.” I say, “I’d like that, Brittany.” She nods enthusiastically, spins swiftly to take her folders off Puck and then she walks away without even saying goodbye or looking back.

“She must love you, she doesn‘t like many people, not that quickly.” Finn says and then we all start walking towards the intimidating building and I can’t help but feel a little better about everything. I’ve made two new friends in less than ten minutes and before Kurt came along I hadn’t had a single one. And now, walking into a strange, thoroughly unfamiliar building - with it’s unfamiliar rules and it’s unfamiliar students - isn’t quite as scary as it was.

I may not have a uniform to hide behind now but I have something else, something better, something much greater, now I have people who actually care about me, all of me, and that feeling, that great feeling, well, I think that beats a lousy blazer any day.

But by the end of English that great feeling is gone.

By the end of English, all hope has vanished.

By the end of English, I know that they hate me.

And I know that Mike can’t stop this, even though he tries to, so damn hard.

There’s just too many of them.

They just hate that new kid, that kid who dresses like a fucking faggot.

That kid who’s come to spread his faggy fairy dust.

Hey, Karofsky, this new kid, he makes Hummel look like a real man, huh?

Yeah, man, we should teach him.

And all I can think, as tears run down my face, is:

What could you possibly teach me that my father hasn’t already tried to?

What?