In a fairytale, Kurt would have an amazing first year at Dalton. He would be accepted by others. He would be well-liked. He would have Blaine by his side. His life would be technicolour.

But It's a shame that this is not a fairytale. Far from it.

Although the meeting of two soulmates would come about.

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"Dad! Have you seen my handbag?" Kurt called to his father, Burt Hummel, frantically.

"Which one?" Yelled Burt from the kitchen as he searched for his keys.

"What do you mean 'which one?'" Kurt replied while tying his navy and scarlet tie in his bedroom.

"I mean that you've got so many damn handbags it's hard to keep track!" Burt stated with a breathless laugh.

Kurt rolled his eyes, men could be so stupid. "Than the one with the Aztec print!" He called back. As Kurt began to add product to his hair, he was very sure he heard; 'what...fuck...Aztec?' He chuckled, but then looked at his watch; 6:40 am. He was going to be late.

He ran down the stairs with a bounce, and found his dad's head buried behind the couch. Kurt glanced at the coffee table and saw a pair of bronze keys. He smiled to himself, called to his dad, and tossed him the keys.

"Thanks. Now let's get going. Oh and your handbags on the loveseat." Burt said, now much more calm. You know what a loveseat is but have no idea what an Aztec print is? Kurt thought as he picked up his handbag and stuffed his belongings inside.

Burt walked out to the car, and Kurt followed, but stopped just before the door to take a look at his reflection in the full-length mirror. He was pretty tall for fifteen, probably 5'7, and his chestnut hair matched his porcelain skin perfectly. He still looked like same old Kurt, but the only thing that was different were the clothes he was wearing. Or uniform. It was a navy-black ensemble; black dress shoes, trousers, and a blazer with the Dalton crest on it. Kurt thought he looked very grown up, and approved very much of the fabric used for the uniforms.

"C'mon Kurt were late as it is!" Burt called from the SUV. Kurt smoothed his hair once before rushing to the car.

"...and just remember I love you. Have a great day, bud." Burt said to finish off his long speech. Kurt gave him a small nod, although he heard nothing of what he said; his nerves where eating away at him. He wondered what the kids there would think of him. Whether he'd be liked. Or even if he would be noticed.

As the digital clock struck 7:52 am on the radio, Kurt's heart skipped a beat, suddenly the car was looking a lot more like home to him. Burt noticed the look on Kurt's face.

"Hey bud, just go to your happy place. Now where would that be?" Asked Burt soothingly.
"At a Marc Jacobs fashion show." Kurt replied with a small groan. Burt kindly laughed at his answer.

Kurt pulled himself out of the car with a sigh, and made his way across the freshly cut lawn. While making his way to the big oak doors, he couldn't help but stare at the grand, expansive school. The building had scarlet red bricks, a navy roof with black trims, and impressive gargoyles that complimented the noble structure well.

Kurt grudgingly pulled his eyes away from the aesthetics when he realized that he was in front of the door. He gazed at the rusty gold handle cautiously, almost as if it contained the entryway to the threshold of hell. With a deep breath in, Kurt pulled the handle meekly and walked straightforward into the unknown.

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Although the memory grew more vague with each passing day, Kurt remembered it well. The very first time he saw Blaine Anderson in two years did not go as he had hoped.

Kurt was off to a very awkward start at Dalton. He asked a grade twelve for directions, and was sent to the wrong class. He had troubles making friends, and very often felt hallow. Almost as if no one understood him. Dalton was not a very big school, but the two had not run into each other. At least they wouldn't until an assembly later that week.

Kurt huddled into the large gym quietly. It was decorated in the school's colours; navy and scarlet, and there was a microphone stand in the middle of the room.

He sat down alone on the bleachers, and observed the boys quietly. There were roughly eighty boys in his year and two-hundred boys in all. Kurt couldn't help but think that everyone was more happy then him.
Suddenly, a women -with greying hair in a strict bun- tapped the microphone, "hem hem," she softly coughed and quieted the large audience. "Welcome to a new year at Dalton! Although, for some of you this is your first. Here at Dalton we live by three rules; knowledge, honour, and courage. Dalton has been around for one-hundred years, and I do not expect those attributes to be tarnished. Reputations are meant to be upheld,"

"Sounds just like my good old dad." A boy many seats above and away from Kurt stated, the sarcasm oozing out of his words.

The woman stared intimidatingly in the direction of the interrupter. "As I was saying," she said as her voice become much more strict, "At Dalton we don't just expect perfection, we exceed perfection. Here are a list of rules I expect you to follow- and I assure, assure, you that there will most definitely be consequences if they are not followed..."

Kurt zoned out at this point, counting the number of stitches in his handbag. Nobody seemed to be listening either, but they didn't seem to be talking.

After ten minutes, her tone changed, "Oh, and you'll all be very delighted to hear that, thanks to the generous donations by the Richard's, Charinsky's, and Anderson's," Kurt's heart skipped a beat at the sound of the last name, but he dismissed it quickly; scolding himself for being so paranoid, "the dormitories have been built over the summer and are being put the final touches on. They will be fit for living at the end of September." A few boys hooted and hollered at this announcement- they were obviously dying to get away from their parents. The woman spoke again, this time her tone light, "Have a great year everyone, and remember to be knowledgeable, honourable, and courageous!"

Everyone clapped politely, while some loud boys at the back whistled and screamed. Kurt sat up and made his way to science, trying to make his way through the group of boys.

"Well, well. If it isn't the only person to kiss me and then run away."
Kurt stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned on his heels slowly, facing the familiar but matured face of Blaine Anderson.

Kurt eyed him up and down; thinking that Blaine was an illusion. But it wasn't. He still had the same dark-brown curly hair- but now he gelled it back sleekly. He looked quite handsome in his uniforms, and was still tall, but Kurt was gaining on him. The biggest difference that Kurt could spot were his eyes; once golden and pure, now a lonely light brown.

Blaine raised his eyebrows expectantly, Kurt quickly swallowed and spoke, "I didn't kiss you." He stated without making eye contact; Blaine's cold eyes too much for him to bare.

"You sure about that?" Blaine spoke, his face now inches away from Kurt's. Kurt could feel Blaine's light breath on his face.
"Faggot.." A large boy in grade twelve said with a cough as he passed Kurt.

Kurt looked down at the floor, wishing that he could blend into the background.

"Hey, watch the mouth." Blaine spat back at the older boy.

"Defending your boyfriend, freshie?" The boy maliciously asked as he turned around and grabbed Blaine buy his tie.

Flashbacks raced through Kurt's mind, "looking for your boyfriend?"

"Did it upset you? What they said, about you and me...?"

'And with their eyes closed but minds open, kissed each other...'

Kurt shook his head, trying to clear the memories away. He glanced at Blaine and the eighteen year old, and walked quickly to his next class.

"Kurt..." he heard distantly, but didn't turn back; the old wounds he had spent so long stitching up were now bleeding uncontrollably, and there was nothing he could do.

The next few weeks were ordinary. Kurt woke up, went to school, and came back home; his life was purely average. It wasn't until Burt sat down with him on the twenty-first of September, that many things in his life would change.

As Kurt scraped the rest of his spaghetti into the garbage, Burt spoke, "Kurt, could you come hear please, I'd like to talk to you."

Kurt's stomach dropped; he hated when someone said those words.

"Yeah Dad?" He asked while he placed his dirty plate in the sink and sat down beside Burt.

"Son...I...well, business has picked up lately,"

"Oh that's great." Kurt replied hoping that was it.

Burt continued, "Yes it is great, but it also means that I have to start work much earlier and end later. Now the problem is that Dalton is about an hour away, and I just can't afford to drive you there every morning-"

"But I'll have my license!" Kurt stated, cutting off Burt.

"Yes, but not for another couple months, and even then you have to have an adult in the car with you. Anyways, I heard that your school's dormitories will be available by the end of this week. Now don't worry about the cost, I already filed for financial aid and they said that you could live there for free and-"

Kurt cut him off once again, "Who says I even want to live there!" He snapped at his dad.

"Kurt, be reasonable. It'd only be for about four-five months- until you can get your driver's license."

Kurt was fuming, how could his dad ship him off to a school where he had nobody?

"I can't go Dad!" Kurt yelled

"Yeah, well why not?" Burt shouted.

"Because I want to live with someone who I care about and who actually cares about me!"

Burt pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and spoke much more softly this time, "Kurt, I know it's hard. I went through this. But just a few months, okay? We could probably arrange you to come home on the weekend too. That's all I'm asking."

Kurt slumped down on the chair. He hated being guilt-tripped- he always fell for it- but he hated it.

"Fine!" He agreed with a sigh, "But the evil demons that I live with better let me choose the colour palette and fabric scheme or we will have a serious problem!"

And with that, Kurt grudgingly ran up the stairs to pack.

Kurt woke up especially early next Saturday- today was moving day. He tiredly dressed in his pre-chosen outfit, and headed downstairs. Burt was busy placing Kurt's moving boxes in the SUV, so Kurt had some time to say farewell to his house, and remember all the memories he had. Kurt was a very sentimental person.

He started in the kitchen, beginning with the toaster.

Kurt's farewell was soon after interrupted by Burt, "Okay, it's all loaded. What are you doing?" he called from the doorway.

"Bidding adieu to the toaster." Kurt sighed dramatically.

Burt quietly chuckled, but looked at his watch, "Oh shoot. 7:29, you got everything?"

Kurt nodded and followed Burt out the door.

When they arrived, Burt immediately strutted to the main office to fill out health contracts and forms. It was when Kurt was alone that he saw a truly heartbreaking episode.

A beautiful car pulled up to the front of the school; a few yards from Kurt. A man dressed very sloppily got out of the car with a stir, walked to the passengers door, and pulled the young boy in the car out by his collar. The boy almost fell to the ground, but caught himself at the last moment. He looked up at his dad, his eyes now very visible to Kurt; although the boy did not notice Kurt watching.

The boy got to his feet quickly, "But dad, I want to live with you!" He pleaded, tears flooding to his eyes. The man scoffed, opened the side doors, and threw the boxes at the boy.

"Take your shit, you brat." There were sounds of glass breaking inside the boxes; a reaction from the impact of the throw.

The boy was now wiping tears away with his sleeve. "C'mon dad...just let me stay." He choked out.

The man pointed a wobbly finger at him and slurred, "You're kidding, right? I'm glad you're out of my house. All of this was your fault."

The boy sobbed a bit more, "What about mom? I don't get to see her?"

The man laughed, "She don't care any more than I do. In fact, she's absolutely delighted that you're gone"

The man threw the rest of the boy's things at him, closed all the doors, got in the car, and drove away. The eyes of the boy were more gold than ever; the tears acting as glass for his already hazel eyes.

Kurt felt his pain. He felt Blaine's pain through every fiber of his being. Just like how Blaine felt all of Kurt's pain. He contemplated going over to him- no- he wanted to go over to him, to hug him, embrace him, let him know he would be okay. But he didn't. Because fear immobilizes people. But the real question was, who was more scared? Blaine, or Kurt?

Blaine grabbed his belongings- tears overflowing in his eyes and spilling down his face- and melancholy made his way to the front office. Burt appeared by Kurt's side and spoke excitedly, "It's all set! You're ready to move in. You're in Wing A, which is on the east end of the building. Oh yeah, she also gave me a sheet of the people in your wing and your roommates." Burt paused to hand Kurt the sheet, "Yeah, you're with three guys, don't really know there names," He scratched his head, "oh but there was this one kid, yeah right next door to you. Blaine Anderson, I think."