Blaine stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his tie for the fifth time that morning. There really wasn't any need for him to continue messing with it. It was tied perfectly, despite the fact that Blaine was way more accustomed to wearing bowties.

It felt weird to have something around his neck again. He hadn't worn any form of tie since the day he was somewhat rejected by Kurt. He refused to have anything to do with them for the rest of the year. His mother had fought with him for days when he wouldn't wear a tie to his cousin's wedding. He'd only managed to get out of it after his dad had convinced her that it wasn't worth the trouble spending the time to force one on.

Three months after this debacle, Blaine was nervously preparing for his first day at Dalton. The move in the night before wasn't too bad, but it was lonely. Most of the boys spent their last night with their parents, having moved in during the day. Blaine's mom and dad had all but left Blaine at the entrance to the school with his boxes.

Not that he minded that they kept their distance; it was a breath of fresh air really.

If it wasn't for the help of another boy, who turned out to be his roommate, he never would have managed to get all of his stuff to his room and properly unpacked in one night.

The other boy introduced himself as Wes. In fact his exact words were "Lead Man of the Warblers—Wes."

"The who?" Blaine asked.

"Who? Who? The Warblers. They are pretty much the cream of the crop when it comes to musical talent at this school." Wes then gave Blaine a curious look, "Do you sing? Because if you do, you should definitely audition."

"Uhm… not really. I mean, I've sung in the shower I guess. Do you need a pianist? I taught myself the piano a while back."

"Maybe. We usually don't have any instruments, or if we do it's pretty minimal. I can see though."

From there the conversation died off. Wes tried a few more times to start conversations with Blaine, but for some reason they kept fading. To be honest, Blaine's mind was not really in that dorm with him. It was stuck in the past few years, and he was unable to shake the feelings of guilt and shame that had no true place in him.

The reason he came to Dalton was to escape that; to be himself and to leave behind his ghosts. Unfortunately that was easier said than done. Every time his mind was free, it went back to his family and his confusion.

That night the boys went to their respective beds in silence.

Blaine sighed as he looked in the mirror once again. Even in his Dalton uniform, there was something about his old self that he couldn't seem to shake away. A few stray curls stuck out near his ears, and he tried to get them to go back onto his head. A couple minutes later, he was still struggling to get them to stay put.

He growled a little to himself, more annoyed over the fact that they wouldn't stay down than he should have been. He squinted his eyes and pulled at the unruly strands of hair. Then, he saw a glint out of the corner of his eye.

Scissors.

Without thinking, Blaine whipped up the tool and pinched his hair between his fingers, fully prepared to cut off the ends of his hair.

That moment, Wes decided to walk in with a toothbrush dangling out of his mouth.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" He exclaimed.

Blaine jumped a little and let his hands fall away from his hair. "I—I just, my hair. It won't stay down. And I was getting frustrated. So I…" Blaine tripped over his words in an attempt to explain himself.

Wes strode over to Blaine and plucked the scissors from his hands. "I need to hide these from you, this is not safe."

The boy walked over to the cabinet and took out a clear bottle and gave it to Blaine.

"Here, gel. Use this. It'll keep your hair in place without you having to chop it off. Just, use it sparingly. It's easy to go overboard."

Blaine accepted the bottle, and added the product to his hair. The result was flawlessly controlled and tame. He inspected his reflection for the hundredth time that morning. Perfect.

"So you're coming to Warbler's auditions right?"

"Should I?"

One week into classes, and Blaine was already feeling the pressure. Wes had mentioned the auditions a few times, but Blaine hadn't really given it much thought.

"I think so. If you've got the chance, why waste it? Your freshman year is the only year you are allowed to audition, because no one knows your ability yet. Once this window of opportunity is closed, though, you have to be invited."

"Seems a bit snooty."

Wes rolled his eyes, happy that Blaine was actually interacting. "Have you seen this school Blaine? Snooty is the general atmosphere here."

"I don't think I'm good enough though."

Wes placed a hand on his shoulder, "you could be." He paused to think. "Here," Wes stood up and led Blaine to the center of the room. "You stand here, and sing the first thing that comes to you mind. I'll tell you how it is."

Blaine hesitated, before slowly beginning with the intro of some bubbly top 40 song he'd heard a few days ago. As the song progressed, Blaine became more confident. By the last line, he was belting out every note and showing more enthusiasm for that song than he had for anything else in the past year.

Wes let out a quiet whistle when Blaine was finished.

"Blaine Anderson, if you aren't the head honcho of the group a year from now, I will hang up my Dalton jacket leave this school. Your voice..." He trailed off.

Blain furrowed his brows, "but it's just normal singing."

"That was anything but normal. You managed to make the most pointless song on the planet mean something. Who thought Ke$ha could sound so… inspirational?"

"I…"

"You're auditioning. Tighten your tie, lace up that shoe, and get a song ready. We're leaving in ten minutes."

Blaine hazily got ready as he realized that he actually had a chance to become a part of something.