He stood outside the blue two-story house deliberating if he should go up the porch and knock or get back in the safety of the car and text Santana again. It was now Saturday, and Blaine spent all of Friday night going down hill from his Kurt interaction high and straight into a pity of Santana based guilt and anxiety. She hadn’t responded to any of his texts and sent his calls straight to voicemail. He needed to apologize, but his friend was making it difficult.

He had never been to Santana’s house before. They always seemed to go to his apartment because he had no parents there to get in the way. It was a cute two house with weathered light blue paint and white trim. As he inched up the walkway, he smiled at an aged child’s ceramic handprint and a mosaic dragonfly stepping stone nestled in a flowerbed, wondering what Santana was like as a kid. She couldn’t always have been the scheming girl he knew now.

The boy jumped as a car backfired and scurried up onto the porch. Blaine had never been too sure what Santana meant by Lima Heights Adjacent, but he passed a few questionable people doing questionable activities on the way to her house. Some of those Lima Heights threats seemed to carry a bit more weight now.

However, when he moved further in the neighborhood, the streets filled with children playing tag and neighbors talking by mailboxes. It was peaceful. Though trouble only seemed a few streets away, it was the type of neighborhood that Blaine wished he had grown up in, more ice tea and hopscotch and less fine china and riding lessons.

Blaine turned his attention back to the front door. He bit his lip wondering if he should have given Santana one more day to cool off. Pushing his nervousness aside, Blaine quickly knocked on the door.

Almost immediately, a tall Hispanic man with a trimmed beard opened the door and tensely greeted, “Hello.” He eyed Blaine’s leather jacket apprehensively and looked over his head as if he expected to see more people.

Blaine tried to give the man his best smile, extending his hand, “Good afternoon, Mr. Lopez. I’m Blaine Anderson, a friend of Santana’s. Is she at home, sir?”

Blaine could see the tension lessen in the man as he grasped Blaine’s hand firmly, smiling. “Nice to meet you finally, Blaine. We were beginning to think that Santana and Brittany were making you up.”

Mr. Lopez’s phone sounded and he quickly checked the text. He looked up apologetically and hurriedly gestured for Blaine to go into the house.

Blaine slid into the house quickly, but Mr. Lopez was now on the porch. “Santana’s room is upstairs,” he offered, giving Blaine a short wave and moving to close the door. The man paused when the door was almost shut, looking at Blaine with a mix of seriousness and almost pleading. “Make sure you look out for her, okay? She’s not as tough as she acts.” Then he closed the door leaving Blaine alone in the unfamiliar living room.

Blaine sighed softly, though it sounded startlingly loud in the almost empty room. Feeling uncomfortable just standing there, he made his way up the stairs, passing smiling family portraits along the walls. It was pretty obvious which room was Santana’s. The door furthest down the hall was decorated with a plaque of glittery, curly writing announcing ‘Santana’s Room!!!’ that Brittany obviously made. The boy went up to the door and knocked lightly, his nerves twisting in his stomach.

“Come in!” Santana called from inside the room.

Blaine inched into the room. Santana was sitting at a desk logged onto Facebook with her back to him. She turned her head, and her smile dropped.

“Get out.”

“Santana, can we just talk for a second?” appealed Blaine.

“No.”

There was no snarky remark, no name-calling, no threat. Just no.

Blaine felt his heart break a bit. He couldn’t believe he’d hurt her this much.

“Please. I really want to apologize,” pleaded Blaine, sitting heavily on the bed. He waited for her reply, but Santana just turned back around to her computer, ignoring him. The silence stretched on.

Blaine knew that this was his chance to leave or talk. So he just started talking. “I’m sorry, Tana. I really, really am. It’s just that I felt like you were doing this really nice thing for me, but then it wasn’t. And I told you I wanted to back off for a bit. You said you would do that, that you were okay with that! Then you just…” Blaine rubbed his hands through his hair. He was so frustrated, and he knew he was rambling. He just needed to get everything out. “More than anything I felt betrayed, I guess. Maybe if we had talked about it and planned it, I would have been okay with it. And I mean it worked out bec—“

Santana spun around, eyes wide. “It worked? How do you know it worked? Oh my god, you’re just sitting here rambling when there are dirty, filthy, raunchy details to tell me?”

Blaine was thrown by the mood change. Santana crept toward the edge of her seat, the sad teenager from a moment ago completely gone. Blaine furrowed his eyes brows and continued, “I’m really sorry. You were right. I was just sinking back into old Blaine just—just because I was scared.”

Santana let out an exasperated sigh, got up from her chair, and flopped onto the bed next to Blaine. “Tell me about what happened with you and boy wonder.”

Blaine stared at her with disbelief as she moved to lean against the headboard. Santana patted the space next to her, and Blaine inched over to sit next to the girl. They sat there not looking at each other. Blaine felt uncomfortable. He had no idea what was going on. He looked over at the girl and said, “Santana, I’m trying to apologize.”

She waved her hand dismissingly, “Don’t worry about it, hobbit.” But when she looked over at him, he could tell it meant more. She was accepting his apology and saying sorry herself. She would never just come out and say it. It wasn’t her, but she felt it.

Blaine settled down against the pillows, feeling the weight of the worry lift off his chest. Santana gently rested her head on his shoulder, and they sat there in comfortable silence.

Blaine’s eyes were drifting closed when Santana chuckled, “So I’m guessing you didn’t get laid ‘cause you are still way too uptight.”

***

It hit Blaine how different his life had become as he was in the middle of trying to break into Kurt’s locker early Monday morning. Blaine was smart, but he probably could have understood the directions on his iPhone better if they were written in Klingon.

He wanted to do something nice for Kurt, to impress him. He spent all weekend sitting thinking about how to impress the boy. He couldn’t exactly do the whole candy and flowers routine. What bad boy could walk around the halls with flowers? Even though he was becoming friends with Puck, Blaine was sure he would have taken a beating.

That was when Blaine got this idea. He got Kurt’s shirt dry cleaned over the weekend. He felt proud that he at least knew that Kurt’s clothes meant a lot to him. He liked taking care of something that Kurt loved.

Santana hadn’t been too thrilled with the idea at first. She didn’t think it went against his “devil may care” attitude. But when he explained that wooing Kurt was what was missing from their plan, she had to agree. He had been making no effort to get Kurt to like him. They had been making sure that Kurt noticed him. Now Kurt was noticing, but it just wasn’t enough.

Blaine gave the lock a frustrated jangle, the sound echoing down the empty hall. He haphazardly shoved his phone into his pocket. How to Easily Pick a Combo Lock was to most useless guide ever. Putting Kurt’s shirt in his locker would have been the best ending to this gift. Kurt would have opened his locker only to see his white clean shirt and knew that Blaine did it. Then he would have questioned about how Blaine got it in there. Did he break in? Did he use magic? Did he—

Blaine tapped his forehead against the locker door. This was the worst plan ever. He looked down at the black laundromat bag he was holding. He couldn’t just break into someone’s personal property! He morally couldn’t and also physically couldn’t. Plus the stupid bag wouldn’t even fit in Kurt’s locker!

Resigned to Plan B, Blaine leaned one shoulder against the locker with the bag draped over his other and waited.

Soon other teenagers started filing into the halls. Occasionally people looked over at him, but Blaine focused his eyes on the front doors. As more and more students came in, his shoulder started aching and his fingers that were clutching the hanger started to sweat.

Fifteen minutes until homeroom and Kurt still hadn’t shown up. Blaine took his phone and started playing a game, sighing. He should just get used to these plans not going how he planned. Nothing worked out. And Blaine kept dying on level one.

“Um, excuse me?”

Blaine jumped, almost dropping his phone. He looked up to see Kurt looking amused. He tried to collect himself, placing a smirk on his face and shoving his phone into his back pocket.

“Hello gorgeous.” Blaine straightened his leaning a bit. “Miss me this weekend?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but his cheeks tinted pink. “Actually I missed my locker more.” The boy made a shooing motion with his hand. “Move it along, Anderson.”

Blaine smirked confidently and said, “Well if I moved, then someone won’t get his present.” He lifted the bag off of his shoulder and extended it out to Kurt. The other boy raised an eyebrow, but Blaine raised one of his own in retaliation. “It’s not going to bite you.”

Kurt gingerly took the bag and unzipped it, biting his lip nervously. His eyes widened. “My shirt,” he whispered to himself. In wonder, Kurt slowly ran his hand gently down the shirt admiring how it lacked of any sign of a purple stain but stopped at the end of a shirtsleeve.

Blaine’s heart threatened to pop right out of his chest as Kurt examined the unfamiliar black cufflinks with a silver emblem. Kurt’s eyes lit up as he realized what they were. Kurt looked back to Blaine, his eyes questioning.

Blaine gave Kurt a nonchalant nod, trying to stop himself from excitedly bouncing up and down. It was so hard to not show his excitement when he had to pretend to be cool. He mentally cursed his new personality when all he wanted to do was gush over how he did research to find the best dry cleaners in Lima and how he proud he was to find those Gucci cufflinks on sale. But Blaine contained himself and just watched Kurt’s delight instead.

“Thank you,” breathed out Kurt, breaking the silent exchange and giving Blaine a bright smile.

Blaine’s knees felt weak, and he stumbled back a bit. He leaned against the locker next to Kurt’s. He lightly cleared his throat and gestured toward Kurt’s locker, hoping that Kurt would believe that he moved to let the other boy get to his locker.

Kurt beamed and opened his locker, taking the shirt off the hanger and folding it neatly inside. Then his face fell and reddened. Kurt turned to Blaine and said nervously, “I don’t have your shirt. I-I didn’t get the chance to wash it yet.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Blaine replied quickly. He could care less about his shirt. Kurt still looked tense, like he wasn’t saying something. Blaine tried to reassure him, “Really. Don’t worry about it at all.”

The bell rang.

***
Blaine had forgotten about how amazing it was to have friends at school. During the week, he was able to walk down the halls with Brittany, sit with Santana in class, and even chat with Puck and Mike. It was no Dalton, but it was nice to not be alone anymore.

The best part was having the girls flirt with him around school. He knew it should have been the worst part. Two girls flirting with him and touching him and all that stuff? Yuck! That part he could do without. But he loved that to them it was all a big joke. They were fooling everyone. This nerdy gay boy was hanging out with two of the prettiest cheerleaders at McKinley who just so happened to be his best friends. No one would believe it if they looked at them.

On Wednesday, Santana spent the entire lunch period on his lap. The envious looks they both got were hilarious. Blaine was still nervous about the attention that he got from other students, but when he was with them, it didn’t seem to matter. It was them versus everyone else.

Blaine glanced over to the table with the Glee Club members. Most were absorbed in talking to each, and Kurt’s back was to him. Puck and Mike, however, were hunched over staring at him with confused expressions. Blaine bet they were wondering why he was doing this when he already admitted to them that he was gay. Blaine would never deny that he was gay, but this was just to raise his reputation and get him noticed.

And maybe it was a bit fun too.

Feeling the need to get more of a rise out of their audience, Blaine whispered in Santana’s ear, knowing that eyes were on them, “Maybe you should lay off the chips. It’s like a hippo is sitting on me.”

Laughing, Santana pushed him back playfully, but dug the heel of her shoe into his shin under the table. Santana shared a look with Brittany who was biting her lips to keep from laughing. Blaine knew he would pay for the comment later.

The payment came in an entire night of Brittany and Santana squishing him into the couch until his legs were numb and loud commentary through the hippo scenes of Fantasia.

***
Sometimes Blaine was convinced that Santana was a witch or worked for the mob or something because he had never understood how Santana managed to swing things. She could talk teachers out of giving her assignments, cashiers out of IDing her, and meter maids out of giving parking tickets.

Santana was a master at the jedi mind trick, and Blaine was lucky enough to have her on his side.

Which must have been the dark side if Santana was on it.

She managed to manipulate Mrs. Rhyne into assigning partners for their home economics project. The same Mrs. Rhyne who preached about the freedom of choice in assignments at the beginning of the year. The woman was still living in the 60s and brought her wardrobe with her.

So here Blaine was standing next to his partner, Kurt Hummel, trying to create meal on a budget. Kurt absentmindedly twirled a whisk as he flipped through a recipe book he brought from home. He paused at a parmesan and spinach souffl� recipe, pursuing his lips in thought.

Blaine bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “I’m not sure we have enough time for that.”

Kurt turned his head, looking like he forgot Blaine was even there. He glanced back at the recipe and sighed, “True, and we don’t have any of the ingredients.”

“How about waffles?” Blaine supplied. “I thought I saw one of those waffle thingies in the cabinet.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Thingies? Is that the technical term?”

Blaine inched closer to Kurt and leaned against the table. “Do you prefer batter torture device, Hummel?”

Kurt closed the book and rolled his eyes. “Your vocabulary is so impressive, Anderson.”

Blaine smiled. He found Kurt’s banter adorable. He lightly ran a finger down Kurt’s arm, replacing his smile with another smirk. “Oh I knew I would impress you eventually. I just didn’t think it would be with my vocabulary.”

Kurt’s mouth gaped open for a second, but he corrected himself and pushed away from the table. He thrust the whisk into Blaine’s face, glaring intensely, and said, “Go get the waffle iron and the dry ingredients.” Then he sauntered over to the class refrigerator.

Blaine stood in shock, staring at Kurt inspecting the expiration date of the milk. Sometimes Blaine was thrown by Kurt. One minute he was the blushing boy and then he was a suddenly he was this witty diva. Blaine felt a smile forming on his face. He learned last week that he really didn’t know much about Kurt, and the more time Blaine spent around Kurt he realized that he really did want to know more.

Blaine walked over to the cabinet grabbing the materials and ingredients Kurt told him to get and began to set everything up as he waited for Kurt. Finally when Kurt came back with his share of the supplies, Blaine took his chance.

“So,” Blaine licked his lips, not looking away from the ingredients he was measuring. “What do you do for fun?”

There was a pause as Blaine waited patiently for the reply. Swallowing down his nervousness, he looked over to see Kurt staring at him expectantly. Blaine was confused. What had he done? He was about to ask, but Kurt beat him to it, saying simply, “I’m waiting for the punch line.”

Kurt had thrown Blaine again. Blaine was just trying to have a normal conversation. He thought that Kurt would have been happy to have a real conversation. Blaine felt his eyes sting a bit. He couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. He took a shaky breath. He was more determined to get to know Kurt now. If the only way to get Kurt to talk to him was banter, then he could do that.

Blaine straightened up and replied arrogantly, “I guess I like to know a bit about my prey?”

Kurt’s eye twitched. “Your prey?”

Blaine gave a smug nod.

Kurt turned back to their work, cracking eggs into a bowl. “Well pray tell? Why would you like to learn anything?”

Blaine scoffed, “It would be dumb to put in all this effort just because you’re hot.”

Kurt blushed and looked down, smiling a little. He licked his lips and said nervously, “Well, I like fashion.”

Blaine chuckled, “Hummel, a blind man on Mars could see that you liked fashion.” Kurt shot him a glare, but Blaine added, “But I can see that you actually have a good eye for it. Your clothes look amazing on you.”

Kurt bit his lip, his face becoming redder and his expression softening. Blaine mentally gave himself a pat on the back for breaking through a bit. Kurt replied haughtily, “Of course they do. I have a superior fashion sense.

Blaine smiled at Kurt, enjoying the boy’s self-confident. Blaine asked eagerly, “So are you going to study that? In college, I mean.”

Kurt’s smile widened and he beamed at Blaine, forgetting about the assignment completely. Blaine had never seen the other boy so excited. Kurt started talking quickly, “Yes! I would love to. Well actually I don’t know. Honestly, I am a bit torn. I really want to be a designer but then I really, really want to be on Broadway one day. I love singing. I may not get as many solos as I would like, but I actually have one at the assembly next week. It’s not a whole song, but it’s enough. I have also been designing a few things. You should see my senior ball outfit. It’s to die for. It’s just hard choosing between two things that I love.”

“Why can’t you do both?” Blaine interjected. Kurt looked puzzled, but Blaine continued. “Do both. It’s pretty obvious that you have a passion for both singing and fashion. Try a double major or something. If you start to like one more than the other later on, you can just focus on that. You shouldn’t limit yourself.”

When Blaine finished, Kurt stared at him. Blaine couldn’t really read the expression but he shifted uncomfortably under the intensity. It was like Kurt was looking through him, peeling back the layers he built up.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine saw Brittany sitting with Tina. Tina’s eyes were wide and somewhat wary as Brittany explained something. Blaine held back a smile when he saw that Brittany is gesturing to her chest.

“Just one second, gorgeous,” said Blaine to Kurt, handing the other boy his portion of the batter, before swiftly heading over to Brittany, thankful to find a distraction. Blaine tapped Brittany on the shoulder to get her attention.

As soon as Brittany turned around, she pounced on him in an excited hug. Quickly Blaine’s hands shot up to grab the sides of her torso before her chest hit his own. Brittany fiercely hugged his neck until she finally leaned back.

Blaine grinned as he saw that his suspicions were true. Nestled in Brittany’s cleavage was an egg…again.

He quickly removed the egg and handed it to the pouting blonde. “Britt, it’s not gonna hatch. We already explained that to you.”

“But why?” Brittany ducked her head and stuck out her bottom lip.

Blaine sighed, “Fine. How about after school you and I look up how to hatch an egg together? Just, for now, stop putting them…there.”

Brittany squealed and gave Blaine a big kiss on the cheek. Before Blaine could say anything else, Brittany was back to talking with Tina, who was looking very uneasy at Blaine being there.

Blaine turned around and walked across the room to his table. Kurt was already pouring the batter onto the waffle iron. Blaine silently started cutting up peaches to put on top of the waffles.

“So, Blaine,” said Kurt, grabbing Blaine’s attention from his work. Kurt, however, did not look up as he continued. “What’s the deal between you, Brittany, and Satan?”

Blaine started laughing. Kurt jumped, startled by Blaine’s sudden laughter. Blaine chuckled, “You think Brittany and I are making deals with the devil? I mean Brit can be dense but even she can spot the horns and tail from a mile away.”

Kurt looked confused, but let out a little laugh of his own. “No. I meant you, Brittany and Santana. Though she is close enough to the devil.” Kurt gave him a smile so Blaine knew he was joking. Blaine returned the smile. Both of the boys blushed and looked at their work. After a moment, Kurt cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, you three seem…close.”

“Yeah, we are,” replied Blaine enthusiastically as he sliced more fruit. He never really got to talk about his friends all the much and was really excited that Kurt noticed how they were friends. Blaine smiled fondly as memories of the two girls past through his head. “I don’t think I have even been that close with anyone.”

When Kurt didn’t respond, Blaine looked over. The boy’s jaw was clenched and was intently staring into the counter.

Blaine’s eyes widened in realization. “Woah, Kurt. No no no. There is not anything, like, sexual going on between us. They’re my friends. Just friends.” Blaine smirked as Kurt seemed to relax. He leaned closer to Kurt and said in a low voice, “Have you not gotten the fact that I’m gay? Because I can come on stronger if you want me to? I mean that must be your master plan because those fucking jeans are just begging me to—“

A hint of a smile crept onto Kurt’s face as he rolled his eyes, pushing Blaine back lightly. “Oh my god, can you be more full of yourself!”

Blaine’s smug grin grew as he walked backwards toward the refrigerator. “Well, you did just call me god. Not my fault that a hot guy like you is feeding my ego.”

Blaine grabbed cream from the fridge before walking back and pouring it into a bowl. He added a tiny bit of maple syrup and started whisking.

“What are you doing?” questioned Kurt.

Blaine explained, “Making whipped cream. For the waffles.”

Kurt smiled, stacking the waffles he made neatly on a plate. He said playfully, “I pegged you for a canned fake whipped cream kind of guy.”

Blaine nudged Kurt’s shoulder with his own. “Shows how much you know about me, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt’s face turned very serious, saying almost to himself, “Yeah, it does.” He licked his lips and continued his playful tone. “You, Blaine Anderson, are a riddle wrapped in a conundrum filled, apparently, with whipped cream.” With a mischievous grin, Kurt dipped his finger into the barely whipped cream and brought it up to his mouth to taste it.

Blaine felt like his brain short-circuited for the rest of class, barely registering as Kurt explained their in-class project to the teacher or walking to the next class. What was Kurt Hummel doing to him?

***
Blaine sat at his desk drawing Super Beowulf fighting Grendel-zilla his copy of Beowulf. He had to say that it was a pretty impressive doodle. He was about to give Super Beowulf a trust horse companion when Santana appeared out of nowhere, grabbed his book, and threw it in the trashcan.

“What the—“ Blaine protested, but Santana cut him off.

“Your badass status is going down.”

“Wait—what—why?” Blaine went to pick up his book out of the trash, but Santana slapped his hand causing the book to drop back in the trash.

“You haven’t done anything, Blaine! You haven’t skipped a class or gotten detention or anything. You are even losing that smug attitude we worked on. I overheard another cheerleader saying that you helped her pick up her books. You can’t do things like that, Blaine. You have an image. People can only live off rumors for so long before they start looking at actions. And you have the actions of a 50s sitcom character!”

Blaine looked at her like she was crazy. He knew he had been a bit nicer lately, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Also he would never try and do something that would mess with his school grade like skipping class. He actually liked class. After he got off by the skin of his teeth after the smoking in school incident, he really didn’t want to put his record in danger.

Blaine crossed his arms. “I am not going to just ruin my chances at a good college for this. No, there must be something else I could do.”

Santana rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “No, there really isn’t. You can’t be a bad boy by not actually doing anything bad.”

Blaine looked at her intently. “Santana, there has to be something. We just need to figure it out.”

***
“Hey Puckerman!” Blaine called out as Puck reached his locker. During their classes together, Blaine actually started to really like the guy. Although he seemed intense at first, he really wasn’t so bad. Bit of an ego maybe, but a good guy. “Mind if we have a chat?”

Puck nodded thoughtfully and opened his locker. Blaine stifled a smile when he saw that the only things in the locker were a bag of chips, a pack of cigarettes, and a few guitar picks. Puck quickly took out his a few notebooks out of his backpack and threw them in his locker. Blaine knew from experience that they were only filled with doodles.

Puck looked back at Blaine, closing his locker. “Sure, Anderson. What’s up, dude?”

Blaine signaled for Puck to follow him and led them into an empty classroom. Puck perched himself on the teacher’s desk, grabbing and biting into an apple that he found on it.

Taking Puck’s lead, Blaine sat on desk in the front row. Blaine took a deep break and said, “We need to get into a fight.”

Puck pulled an almost comically confused face as he swallowed his bite of apple. “What on earth are you talking about?” asked Puck, looking at Blaine as if he asked him to fight a squad of stormtroopers with a toothpick.

Blaine crossed his arms. He needed to explain this carefully. One mistake and he could end up in a dumpster. “We’ve become friends, right?”

Puck gave him a quick nod as if to say ‘of course.’

That made Blaine a bit more comfortable, so he continued, “Well, I have to tell you that I’ve been hearing some rumors, and most of them aren’t really living up to your threatening reputation. A few people even said you were a…wuss.”

Puck jumped off the desk and jabbed a threatening finger into Blaine’s chest. “Watch your mouth, Anderson. Puckzilla is no wuss.”

Blaine tried to fight off the urge to run. It was like poking a bear with a stick but it was the reaction he needed.

“Trust me. I know.” He gently pushed Puck’s hand away. “But I think the rest of the school could use a good reminder.”

Puck chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, and then backed up to lean against the teacher’s desk. He was frowning, and Blaine thought that he looked a little sad. Puck nervously rubbed his neck. “Honestly, bro. I can’t get in a fight. I was in juvie a year ago, and I don’t wanna go back in. My mom would kill me.”

Blaine felt awful. He really didn’t want to get Puck into any trouble. “I’m not talking about anything big here. Nothing juvie worthy. Not even having a winner or loser. We’ll have it staged.”

Puck’s head perked up. “Staged?”

Blaine felt himself get excited. He pushed off the desk and started explaining, “Yeah. You’re in Glee club, right? So it is like choreography. No punches to the face or anything that would show. Lookouts at the ends of the hall. The teachers will never have to know, man. Just a little show to help you raise your reputation.”

Puck brow furrowed. “Well, then why can’t I win the fight?”

Blaine smirked and sat down on the edge of the desk with Puck, patting him on the back. “You’re not the only one with a rep, Puck. We’ll be helping each other out.”

***
Blaine had clearly lost his mind. This was possibly the worst idea he had ever had, and that was saying something because he had been having quite a few bad ideas lately. He fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket as he waited in the bathroom. He had two minutes to back out of this plan. Two minutes to walk out the door, get in his car, and spend the rest of his life as a hermit in the wilderness.

He put his weight on his arms, resting on the bathroom sink. They had planned it. Every insult. Every fake punch. Puck wanted to throw in some good clean punches because he thought Blaine could take it, but Blaine quickly dismissed the idea.

The boy sighed and checked the time on his phone again. One minute. He struggled to pull himself together and exited into the hallway. He reminded himself, it was planned. The mantra repeated with every step, a scowl forming on his face in frustration rather than acting.

He saw Puck down the hall, who gave him a quick nod. That small nod reassured him somewhat, but there was a bad feeling eating away at his stomach. They walked closer to each other. Blaine directed his eyes elsewhere, but his attention was still on Puck. When they came up to each other, their shoulders met.

“What the hell’s your problem, Anderson?” Puck yelled, glaring at Blaine, grabbing the hall’s attention.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” Blaine shouted back, meeting Puck’s glare. People around them were staring or whispering hurriedly to each other.

Puck scoffed, “Puckzilla can do whatever he wants.” Puck scowled down at Blaine, making a show of cracking his knuckles. “I think you need to be taught a lesson, new kid.”

And it started.

Puck grabbed Blaine’s shoulder and drove his left fist toward Blaine’s stomach, stopping short of actually hitting him. Blaine let out a pained groan and shoved Puck back. Quickly, he grabbed Puck’s arm, twisting it in a way that looked painful and shoving him into the lockers. Puck’s free arm retaliated, elbowing Blaine in the ribs a little rougher than they practiced. Blaine swiftly backed off, rubbing what would soon be a bruise.

“Little shit,” Puck called out, pushing Blaine forcefully in the shoulder.

Blaine recovered and pushed Puck back with both hands. “Jackass.”

“Jerk!”

The insults and fake fighting had the desired effect. All around them students cheered or stood in shock. Two bulky football players had pushed their way through the crowd, cruel enjoyment clear on their faces.

Blaine turned his attention back to Puck as they circled each other. He felt like his whole body was tingling, filled with energy.

“Lima loser!” spat Blaine, pushing Puck back into the lockers.

Puck growled—actually growled—and his eyes flicked to a blonde who was watching, terrified but clearly annoyed. Blaine was startled by Puck’s reaction and stepped back. Puck had agreed on that insult, adding it himself, but in this situation, the insult hit something that neither expected.

“Faggot!” barked Puck, triggering a loud cheer from the meatheads nearby.

Blaine froze. That one wasn’t planned. Puck eyes were wide. It must have slipped out with all the other insults, but it was the one that hurt. Anger and adrenaline flowed into Blaine, seeping into his limbs. Without realizing what he was doing, Blaine’s fist collided with Puck’s jaw.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd around them, noticing the shift in the fight. Puck stumbled back against the lockers, and Blaine grabbed his aching fist. He never thought punching someone would hurt so badly.

Blaine shivered at the realization. He just hit someone. This was not a fake fight anymore.

Blaine looked at Puck. His eyes were dark and furious. Flight instincts kicking in, Blaine quickly looked around for an exit, but the crowd surrounding them locked him in. Blaine caught a glimpse of Santana down the hall. She looked frightened. Blaine trembled, his stomach clenching. If Santana was scared, then he had no chance. He turned back to Puck and tried to prepare himself even though his head was screaming at him to run.

Puck pushed himself off of the lockers and swung at Blaine’s head. Blaine ducked quickly avoiding the punch, backing further away. However, Puck grabbed the collar of Blaine’s shirt, pulling Blaine toward him and punching his cheek. Blaine stumbled in pain, but Puck held him there, punching him again. An iron taste grew in Blaine’s mouth where he bit the side of his tongue, and he felt his heart pound in his cheek. Blaine grabbed onto Puck’s jacket and punched him in the stomach, making the other boy let go.

“Stop it!” a familiar voice called out, and a hand grabbed his upper arm. Blaine let himself being pulled backward, thankful that someone intervened. Puck was still lunging at Blaine, but Finn Hudson was holding Puck back, glaring at Blaine.

With that, all of the adrenaline rushed out of Blaine, leaving him feeling boneless and numb. He let the arm drag him away but he kept his eyes on Puck. Puck finally settled down and caught his stare. Finn and the blonde were scolding Puck, but Puck mouthed a quick “sorry” to Blaine. Blaine nodded solemnly and mouthed “me too.”

Blaine was pulled into the same bathroom he was in just few minutes ago. He shook off the arm and leaned against the sink, breathing heavily, trying to wrap his head around how things escalated. He spat into the sink and stared at the blood for a long while, red standing out against the bright white.

When he finally looked up into the mirror, his face was flushed, right cheek already starting to purple. He touched his cheek, hissing at the sting. He saw movement behind him in the mirror and turned around.

Kurt was standing there, his face red and his mouth yelling in Blaine’s direction. Blaine realized that he must have pulled him in here, feeling a rush of gratitude for the boy who was yelling at him. Blaine couldn’t hold back the smile at seeing him there.

Kurt realized Blaine had turned around and advanced on him, prodding his finger sharply in his chest. Blaine’s smile fell as he finally listened to Kurt’s words. “What’s your deal, Blaine? Why would you go picking a fight with Puck? What did he ever do to you? You two could have seriously hurt each other! Does it make you feel like a man to punch someone or something? Though, you know, you do seem like you need a good punch in the face daily. I’d offer to do it for you. Punching you in the face would put me right to sleep like warm milk and ni-quil! People like you deserve it.”

Blaine felt Kurt’s words hitting like daggers into his numb body, each one stabbing harder and harder into vital points. Even Kurt’s snarky quips seemed sharper. They weren’t playful. They were meant to hurt and they did.

“Damn it, Blaine. You are so stupid, so fucking stupid. What is with you? It’s like you’re two different people.” Blaine flinched at the statement and crossed his arms trying to protect himself from the true words. “At first, you seemed…” Kurt’s voice trailed off as if he wasn’t sure of something. But then his frustration came back in full force, and Blaine stood there and took each hit. “Then you’re this jackass who just wants to get in my pants. Oh god. Did you really think that something this pathetic and low would impress me? When are you going to get it through your thick skull that some stupid act will never impress me! It won’t work.”

Blaine couldn’t take it anymore. He walked around Kurt to the door, ignoring Kurt’s shouts. He paused at the door, blinking tears back. Blaine murmured, “Just you wait.” Then he slipped out the door.

***

Blaine strolled the familiar corridor. You want to be impressed, Hummel, Blaine thought clenching his jaw as he passes other students. You got it.

When he reached two wood double doors, Blaine paused listening to the harmonies coming from the room. He adjusted the collar on his leather jacket and placed a smug grin on his face, anticipation flooding into him. He pushed hard on the doors, both swinging wide to reveal a group of startled boys in blazers.

“What the—“

“OH YEAH!” Blaine belted, making his way into the room.

The expression of the boys’ faces flicked like a switch, going from confusion to excitement. They automatically sang right back, “OH YEAH!”

Blaine barely had time to brace himself before a dozen Warblers attacked him with hugs, noogies, and playful punches. His smugness broke, and he laughed and greeted his friends.

There was a familiar knocking that silenced the teenagers.

The group turned to the sound. Blaine had a bit more trouble turning because Thad at gone all spider monkey on his back and Jeff was trying to take off the leather jacket so he could try it on. Once he managed turn, Blaine saw Wes standing behind the council desk with his trusty gavel raised.

“Why, may I ask, are you interrupting our precious practice time, Blaine?” demanded Wes, looking very stern, but Blaine could see he was suppressing a smile.

Blaine shrugged the clinging Warblers off of him as Wes asked the group to take their seats. Once they were all seated, he stood before them prepared to address his former glee club members. He couldn’t help but smile at how he naturally snapped into the formal style of the group. He looked at Wes, David, and Thad behind the council desk.

“I would like to ask for help from the Warblers,” explained Blaine.

Nick spoke up, “Wait, so you’re not coming back?” The rest of the Warblers looked at Blaine with the same sad and questioning look.

Blaine gave him a small smile, “I really wish I could guys.” He felt his heart almost break at the silence that followed.

“What’s with the get up, dude?” Flint called, breaking the silence. The rest of the Warblers laughed.

“Did public school change you that much?” Jeff asked, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Blaine placed a playfully smug look on his face. “Oh yeah. This is what all the cool kids are wearing these days.”

Jeff put his hand to his chest in mock honor, looking at Nick, who was wearing a similar expression. “Dear lord, Blaine’s a cool kid.”

Nick replied, “This must be a sign of the apocalypse. We’re doomed.”

“Blaine,” said David smiling kindly, calling his attention back to the Council. “What did you want to ask?”

Blaine straightened himself up, leaving a dramatic pause to up the Warbler’s anticipation. “To put it simply: his name is Kurt.”