The smell of the rich and creamy coffee fills my nostrils. I gulp down my breath. It was a fairly stupid idea to come here, a not very well thought out one indeed, as I didn't seem to consider through my mind, the consequences of my being here, once I got caught. When the song had finished. I sort of just stayed there like an inanimate object, an ice sculpture let's say, until Kurt walked up to me and shook me back to reality. He called up on two people, one was decidedly Asian while the other was so tall, I had to look up to meet his eyes.

The hall he previously took me through. Was lined with coalesce mini rooms, what they were used for remains a mystery.
So. Now I was sitting at a French buffet style table, coffee in hand. With three completely neutral faced Warblers. Couldn't really determine thoroughly whether they wanted to slap me martial arts style in the face or serenade me with a Katy Perry song again.

"Does the coffee meet your expectations?"Kurt asked me. Expression still so very blank.

"It's great..." I look down at my shoes. " Am I allowed to ask why I'm being treated to the-" I look at the cup. "Dalton beanerswhen it was kind of clear I came here to spy."

They looked back at one another. Is it me or did Kurt stifle a giggle. I froze, for some unknown reason.

"Was my allowance to ask anything ceased or-or-"

" Hush Blaine. You're not in trouble."

"But I came here to spy-"

"I couldn't care less about that." He clears his throat. "This is Wes and David, my fellow companion Warblers." He gestured at the two sitting next to him. They nodded in response.

I blinked back at them, still mildly taken aback about the fact that spying however wasn't exactly 'cared about'.

"This is a non-bullying, violence-free school. We're not going to do to you what you might of predicted." Said the one I assumed to be Wes. An assumption I repeat.

"So." My vocabulary needs to be improved.
Kurt has a worried expression painted, he looks at me with a look of sympathy.

"You were such a terrible spy, I had a feeling your heart wasn't on the job." Kurt whispers, leaning towards me.

"So, if I am allowed to ask questions..." I stammer. This statement might push a few off the edge. "Are all of you gay?"

The silence drags, like a lowly morning sun. Then they burst out laughing. Just like that. Unable to explain why.
I must've resembled pretty perplexed because Kurt's suddenly voice softened.
"We get asked that a lot, if you're wondering. It's sort of a well known guess."

I suppress a tiny and astute grin. My eyes still lowered.

"But. No, not everyone. Well, of course I am. It appears to be as obvious as can be to others. But Wes and David both are in a relationship. With girls." He opens his mouth to talk again, but decides at the last moment to repel his comment.

And then I feel a burn in my eyes. All those feelings of despair and anger and just plain annoyance begin to stir. My eyes and palms are burning. I didn't notice that I was weeping heavily until Kurt mumbled something to his friends, them raising from their chairs.
"Nice meeting you Blaine." David waves me goodbye and disappears around the corner with his friends.
Must regards me, and I slightly notice that his eyes have started watering too. Those multicoloured eyes should not be disoriented by tears.
"Hey. Don't cry for me. I'm not worth it." I declare.

"Blaine, you know. I get what you're going through, don't think twice that the same things haven't happened to me." He pulls out a photo from his blazer jacket.
"I was taunted at my old school, a lot. I had, and still have a high pitched girly voice."

"You have a beautiful and melodious voice, Kurt." I sit up properly.

"Blaine. Look at me." He hands me the photo. "I wear designer clothes wherever I'd go. Hair coiffed with hairspray. The bullies target me, like a bullseye. But there's one thing you shouldn't do, because you're such a talented person, I gather, is let him torture you. Stand up for yourself."

I nod vigorously. It doesn't seem like exactly what's best for me, since he's about twice my height and weight and speed. And amount of followers and friends. Well. You get the idea.

"Here. Why don't I give you my number, you can call, text, whatever me anytime when you need help. This is a great chance for me to try being a good role model for once." he reaches out.

I slide my cell phone out of my pocket and onto the table. "Thank you, Kurt. Glad to know there's more people like me." I wave goodbye and he extends his hand for a handshake. I just swoop in and sweep him in a large hug, of absolutely no forethought. He stiffens at first but then embraces it and hugs back.
"Don't forget what I said about you getting some scarves. Consider it." He winks.

It was about half an hour before my arms stop tingling.

"Girls. You ready?" Mr Shue calls from his seat at the far back end.

"Brittany! Your jacket is on backwards!" Rachel shrieks.
"But it's like a rainbow, if you flip it, it still looks like a rainbow. This jacket looks like a rainbow."

The wisps of smoke poured in, as 'delightfully' dressed instrument players leveled out.
Hard rock electric guitar came on at full blast. It strummed my eardrums as an artillery gun would usually do so. I look around me, everyone seemed to be cheering. What's the harm if I do so too? I yelled some whoops and clapped my hands loudly. I guessed the music wasn't the thing that'll shock me the most.

"Start me up! Start me up! Oooh Tommy used to work on the docks! Union's been on strike he's down on his luck! It's tough, oh so tough.."

Their costumes were... What's the word, Kurt would probably know. And. It seems my mind is focused on Kurt again, the boy with the caramel hair, and the mesmerizing voice that the angels would bow down to- back to the oddly looking badboy - or was it badgirl suit. With metal prickles, bandanas, leather jackets, and quite the heels. The close feeling of animosity started to lump my throat. Maybe it was because whenever I see the stereotype boy, it's always with the sleek, sloppy, messy jackets and shirts. And I'm here in loafers and bowties. Quite the provoker huh? It did seem to conciliate Mr. Shue. He appears to be dancing along vigorously to the music. Conventional.

"We've got to hold on ready or not! You live for the fight when it's all that you've got!"

Rachel, as much as she seems to enjoy irritating me, one must admit that she has quite the dexterity in her vocal chords. She can mimic, belt out anything by anyone, so very theatrically that it would seem like she was starring in her own broadway extravaganza.

"Start me up, we're half way there! Whoa-oh!
Livin' on a prayer!
Start me up, we'll make it, I swear! We're livin'!
Livin' on a prayer if you start me up!"

My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, sending shivers through my leg. I pull it out of limber motions, not wanting to disturb their 'show'. And what lays there, in my text inbox shocks the hell out of me. In a good way of that word usage. If possible. "Courage. -Kurt" A very Wide smile cracks my lips. And the butterflies have returned.

It must've been minutes. Seconds, of how long I managed to find interest in those seven letters. More interest than I've ever gotten from anything, really. It's just the meaning that lies beneath those contiguous letters. Kurt still remembers me, well, he should, because it's been like twenty-four hours, and a figure usually tends to trigger the long term memory upon a visit, but it's the fact that he really does care for me. I hear the last lyrics being played directly I to my ears.

"We're half way there,
Livin' on a prayer!
Take my hand and we'll make it, I swear!
We livin' on a prayer, livin' on a prayer!

You got to start me up!"

I don't even realize the song is over.

It just ended with me, in that same chair, same physical spot. Still glaring dreamily into the screen. I really couldn't care less about my eyes and how Carole has scolded me many times about distance and leverage.

"Blaine."

My phone screen has put me in a trance.

"Blaine. The bell rang five minutes ago. You're going to be late to your physics test."

I splutter and tumble off my chair. Literately. Tumbling is not a good way to break off a trance, you see.

"Blaine. Class. Two minutes?" Mr. Shue helps me up and leads me towards the door.

"Don't bump into anything on your way there!" he sends after me.

My phone, it was by itself, I swear. Flew into my palm and displayed the message. I was walking fairly quickly. So in that moment when Dave slammed me into the locker, from one side to the other. My cell phone slid across the floor, out of my reach. He picked it up and kicked me in the stomach. I hiss in pain once again, because, like that very once, again, voila. Right on the last bruise he had created. I slid to the floor and waited for it to stop hurting, turns out it didn't afterwards.

Then I suddenly remembered Kurt's previously given advice. I stood up. There stands a fraction of a second where I am hesitant, a hunch, one would call it, that this is not going to end well. But I swallow the doubt and scream at the top of my lungs.

"What the hell is your problem Karofsky!"

He turns around, ever so slightly and mocks me, then, chuckling at his own gesture, he takes off into the boy's locker room.

I choose to do the stupid but bold thing there and then. I chase after him.

"Why don't you freaking answer my question before you decide to run off like a coward!" I bolt off, catching speed, because I am a fairly small guy, I am moderately fast at sprints.

I turn a corner and throw the door open. My fists ball up and I am on the midst of throwing a fit.

He's there, retrieving something from his locker. "Ew, are you planning to peek at my junk?" He mocks

"Yeah, every straight guy's most turbulent fear, that us gay guys are secretly out to get you!" I mock back.

"You got the wrong location lady boy." He turns to point at the opposite wall. "The girl's change room's that way."

"What is your problem."

"Besides you wanting to enter my personal space?"

"What have I ever done to you! I have successfully stayed out of your 'clan' life until you decided to butt into mine." I slam his locker shut, to close off distractions. "And you know what else? I can very easily see you in thirty years ahead of time, bald, chubby and fat and alone in a bar, still making fun of other's lives when you haven't got one."

"Shut up Anderson."

"You need to realize that hurting others will never help you in any ways possible. It just perfectly proves that you cannot accept us, us the special and unique, while you're as ordinary and boring and dull as can be."

"SHUT UP." He steadies his hands, fists at the ready.

"Your ignoramus and bluntness will result in you being a scared little boy who cannot accept how incredibly normal he is."

He slams his hands into the locker and looms over me.

"Are you going to hurt me? Are you going to hurt the ones that are better than you? If so, I'd suggest a war against the world because-"

He grabs my face with his callused hands and I brace myself for the blow. But it doesn't come. Instead he leans and kissesme.

I am too stunned to do anything. I can't feel, I can't move and I cannot react. I am literately paralyzed for a few seconds.

After I retain consciousness, or at least my abilities as an animate object, I harshly push him away. My hands at my front, he runs towards me again, for what reason I did not know. I scurry down the hallways, out of the school, out of the parking lot. I keep on running.
Into my car, I throw myself in and seal the doors before me. Then I grab my knees and I start to cry.

I've been crying for how long, the time amount is uncertain.

All I know is that my shirt is completely soaked and that I cannot go back to school.

Karofsky was gay.

He has been all along.

And has been picking on me because he was confused.

Suddenly, a wave a thorough sympathy and regret fills my mind. I had called him things that I'd never, I would never amount to. I... Everything was just so confusing, my great talent of messing things up has again been activated.

I felt horrible. I am a horrible person.

But then I come across the things Karofsky has done to me, the locker slams, the shoves and pushes, the insults. My sympathy ceases. but it doesn't go away.

I put my hands on the steering wheel and drove off to the only place I could think of. Only insanity and stupidity mixed together would've resulted to this conclusion.

The great and grand brick building greets me, autumn leaves scattered across the pavement, making immense designs and patterns. Oak doors swing open as I wriggled my way through the panels.

The staircase with the glass ceiling opening wasn't really difficult to find. And, as it was a bright and sunny and brilliant autumn day, the sunlight streaked through the windows, their gold castings glittering and reflecting the circular designs of the building.

Where would he be though?

I check the time on my watch. It was approximately the same time in which I arrived yesterday, so they should still at choir practice if my assumptions are right.

Then I asked myself, why was I here to find Kurt?

Why not Carole, or my dad or the guidance counselor Ms. Pillsbury? She was plenty helpful when these problems decided to show up.

The thing is Kurt, is someone like me. He knows and gets what I'm currently going through. Or is it because his incredible fashion sense has intrigued me? Or his dazzling eyes? Was it his angelic voice that can charm the most obnoxious things?

My answer rests blank.

I follow my direction instincts - which sucks by the way but appears to be the only thing I can use at the moment, and travel down the path, that Kurt supposedly dragged me through.

The music rolls around the environment beside me, it was obviously Kurt and his soprano, counter-tenor voice, singing some antique classic that I've never heard before. I'm more of a top forty's guy.

I trail behind it, eyes open, careful to spot those glasz eyes.

"Don't cry for me Argentina! The truth is that I never left you!"

It's this door. The one with the nickel grazed handles. Why this detail seems important, is unknown.

I was almost about to just walk on in, but I realized how incredibly creepy and awkward it would be to see some stranger asking for some time from their lead singer.

I leaned onto the wall, mind still so very blank. My mind gears were not handling the news very well. To tell the truth, I still wanted to crouch down in a corner and cry. Come on. You have to agree with me. Your bully, the one that torments you and creates tremulous fear boil up every turn of a corner, every slam of a locker, suddenly comes up and kisses you. It's hard to take in, believe me.

"Okay guys. Take five, I need to get my music sheets for the next piece I'm introducing." Kurt's voice approaches the doors, as I straighten up and regain my posture.

He walks through and the moment he spots me, he jumps back in surprise, eyes wide.

"B-Blaine."

"That's me. Glad my name stuck."

"What are you doing here? I mean, it's the middle of a school day, it's a two hour drive and, again where's your scarf!"

I smile affectionally at him. Then my smile falters, eyes dropping to my shoes again. He notices my actions and puts a hand on my back.

"What is it Blaine."

"I- I have a lot of explaining to do."

"Wait what." He almost doubles over, in disgust or surprise, "He WHAT?"

"He leaned in and kissed me. Here." I said pointing at my lips.

He looks more confused than I am, judging my his expression, which was pretty amusing to watch actually.

"You sure he didn't, like punch you with his face, or smack you with his cheek or something."

I look back at him. And I catch him pondering. Lost in contemplation. That was the moment I realized something. Kurt was really beautiful. I'm not saying that because he has flawless porcelain skin that makes the surface of pearls shine with envy, or the fact that his hair is perfectly styled, which stays in it's perfect form, not a strand out of place. The way his long eyelashes catch the tiniest bit of light, and redirecting them into his blue, green, yellow, grey, crystal like eyes that make the diamonds seem less of glisten. Not only his exterior, but his personality, as less of it I've seen, as it is someone who is a witty, shrewd, astute, who loves and cherishes and cares deeply for many things, who is bold, brave, courageous and extroverted while being the most delicate thing in the world, easily fractured.

"Blaine, we need to give him a little chat, sometime, see of we could straighten him up a bit more- Blaine. Hello..."

I've been staring too long of a duration. I blink a few times and subtlety look to my side, and avoiding his gaze. "Yes sure, but I don't want to waste any of your time. I mean, you've got not part in this situation, Kurt, I don't really expect you to give into something, that was originally my problem."

He begins to talk. But I shut him off, "I keep doing this for some reason! I keep dragging others into my own selfish needs, I-"

"Blaine. Would it help if I said I wad volunteering my help?"

"I-"

I showed Kurt around the school yard, it's rooms and functioning styles, thank goodness it was lunchtime. We walked up the staircase, this time, not circular.

"So, where would he be at this time of day?" Kurt stopped, hands on the metal bars. I noticed how incredibly out of place he looked, so poised and proper and dapper, made me sort of proud to be so close to him.

"He is usually with his jacket crowds, they lurk around here and during lunchtime, the occasional crowd beat up."

As if on cue, Karofsky walks down the stairs, right behind where we were staying, Kurt daringly stands in front if him, blocking his way as he began to explain,

"Are you Ka-"

"Gayer, is this your little boyfriend or what?" He jeers off at Kurt, a sudden wave of protectiveness crashes over me.

"We're not here to argue. Dave," I avoid looking at him.

"I've known many people, like you who are, let's say confused. And that was the reason you did what you did." Kurt says in a soothing voice, moving closer than anyone has ever dared to.

"What the hell are you talking about princess. I didn't do anything." Karofsky starts to panic, but keeps his sturdy and balanced stature.

"Do I really need to say it out loud?" I say.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He spats, pushing past Kurt and I and continuing off,

"You kissed me, Dave, and you expect to just get away with it like nothing happened?" I stared at him wig complete blankness, and he stopped in his tracks.

Then, in a stretch of a second he ran up and slammed Kurt against the metal fence, causing him to whimper. I lash out at him, cautious of him laying a finger on Kurt, on me, that was the usual, but on Kurt it was absolutely unacceptable. I tear him away and send him sprawled on the ground.

"You really need to keep your hands to yourself. Or someones bound to get hurt." I say sternly.

He runs away, leaving not a trail behind.

I turn my attention to Kurt, to see him smoothing out his red-blue blazer, which seemed wrinkled but fine.
"Kurt, are you okay. Did he hurt you? Are you hurt?" My voice fills with concern.

He just chuckles at me. "You look cute when you're worried. But, nah, I'm okay. Thank you for getting him off me." Kurt says dazzlingly. My heart swells. He had just called me cute. I definitely needed to be more worried.

But somehow I suddenly feel despondent again. And I sit on the steps. He ice creeping onto the back of my neck.

Kurt sits next to me and cuddles on me, I tense over the gesture, but then melt into it. He feels warm and soft and caring.

"He stole my first kiss." I say out of the blue. Then I realize it was out loud. "Uhh, I- never mind" I correct myself. It was half true. I've kissed a girl before, when finding my dad and myself, so that didn't really count, to be exact.

"Hey, it's okay." He flutters his eyelashes at me. "Just imagine it as a good thing, because first is the worst, and second is the best."

I grin. He stands up and stretches. I find myself longing for his warmth.

"Come on, let me take you to lunch. My treat." Kurt decides.

"No, I can't, this already is not your problem to deal with. It's too much to ask."

"Do you really see me as the type of person to leave a person flooding in despair, to eat alone? Is that really my image?" He pouts adoringly.

I sigh, and follow him out of the schoolyard.

And I smile.