Yet, here he was, hidden behind his new school, breathing smoke out of his nose.

Kurt usually didn’t smoke. He had mostly stopped about six months ago. It was a bad habit. Now he only ever indulged in a cigarette when he was feeling particularly stressed - like when he was about to attend his first day of school in almost two years. The last first day of school, freshman year, he had been stuffed into a locker for two class periods.

He gave up on the cigarette halfway through, throwing it on the ground and stepping on it with the hideous black loafers. He sighed, reaching up to straighten the Dalton Academy’s uniform tie. Usually Kurt stuck to jeans and clean looking collared shirts, or when hanging out around the house, t-shirts.

He tried to blend in, for the most part.

Kurt walked up to the front of Dalton Academy, taking in all the other students in the same uniform and figured that he wouldn’t have that problem at all here.

Kurt went to the front office and picked up his class schedule with little trouble. He and his dad had already taken a short tour of the school and spoken to the dean a few days ago. He looked down at his first period class - English - and decided that maybe going up stairs would be a good bet to find it.

After searching the entire upstairs, without finding it, Kurt turned around to walk down the stairs and try not to be swallowed into the crowd of uniform boys.

Kurt finally worked himself up and decided to ask for directions. He sighed as a shorter boy with slicked back black hair (he was taking this ‘private school boy’ thing much to seriously, obviously) passed by him. Kurt reached out and touched his shoulder lightly. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m new here and sort of lost…”

The boy turned around, putting what looked like a pocket watch (again, much too seriously) into his jacket pocket. Kurt frowned a bit - he looked vaguely familiar to Kurt and suddenly, his stomach flipped. He was an attractive guy, that was for sure, with nice bone structure and these beautiful hazel eyes -

“Kurt?”

Kurt was pulled out of his thoughts violently, because he knew that voice and he knew those eyes. He just hadn’t been that instantly recognizable with his hair.

The last time Kurt had seen Blaine, his curly hair was being pressed violently into the pavement.

“Blaine?” Kurt breathed out before he could stop himself; stop all the emotions suddenly hitting him at once.

“Oh my god, it is you,” said Blaine, his eyes widening. “I can’t believe it. It’s been…so long.”

So long since you abandoned me, thought Kurt.

Instead of saying that, Kurt just stared.

“Kurt…are you alright?” Blaine stepped forward and Kurt panicked, taking another step back, almost stumbling in the process. Blaine paused and blinked a few times. “Oh.” He looked around him at the thinning crowd of students and then back at Kurt. “I guess…we need to talk about this…”

Kurt didn’t want to talk about anything, but he nodded stiffly. Suddenly a bell rang, startling the two boys. “Um, I guess maybe at lunch?”

“Ok,” said Kurt, his throat closing in on itself.

“Oh. You said you needed help…what class do you have?”

Kurt wordlessly handed Blaine his schedule, not sure if he could even speak. Blaine took it from him, looking down for a few seconds and nodding. “Your English class is just down this call,” Blaine pointed to his right. “And on the left. And I have History with you - that’s your class right before lunch so…I’ll meet up with you then?” Blaine handed his schedule back with a small smile. “Just ask anyone for help for your other classes, they’ll be helpful.”

Kurt nodded and slowly walked down the rest of the stairs, Blaine following him. Kurt started down the hallway that Blaine had pointed him toward, thankful that Blaine didn’t follow him. He must have had a class elsewhere.

Instead of going to the English class, which was easy enough to actually find, Kurt made a beeline for the first restroom he saw. It was empty, thankfully, and Kurt went to the biggest stall and locked it. He walked over to the opposite wall and leaned against it for support.

His eyes welled up with tears. He hadn’t cried in…months. When he did cry, it was always, always, after waking up from a nightmare, drenched in sweat and remembering that night.

Kurt sniffed and tried to stop his tears, wiping them away with the back of his hand. Shit, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want all these memories and feelings. He had accepted that his only friend had ditched him. Kurt had decided long ago that not having strong ties with other people was just the best thing - hook ups at his favorite gay club were the most he indulged in, besides a healthy relationship with his dad.

Now, however, Blaine was back in his life - he went to his school - and Kurt wasn’t sure how this would even work. How could he see him, everyday, without thinking of that horrible night? The hurt, physically and emotionally, he had felt?

Some minutes later, Kurt pulled himself away from the wall and out of the stall. He splashed cold water on his face and went to class, using the “new student” excuse for why he was late.

Blaine showing up had done one thing for Kurt: he suddenly wasn’t worried at all for the novelty of being at school for the first time since he was a freshman.

-------

Kurt made it through his morning classes with a combination of fear and dread. He found the classes themselves boring, as he was a driven home schooled student and covered much of the material before, it was his History class he was dreading.

For a few seconds, right after his Biology class, which is before history, he thinks of ditching. It’s his first day, though, and it’s not like he can ditch every History class this year.

When Kurt walks into the classroom and spots Blaine sitting near the front of the classroom, Kurt retracts that thought - maybe he could ditch every History class. It wasn’t like he was going to be a Historian anyways, right?

Kurt walks to the back of the classroom, ignoring Blaine’s gaze, and sits as far away as he can get. The class goes by in a blur, and much too soon Blaine is standing beside his desk.

Kurt sighs and stands, tightening the hold on his bag’s strap. “Let’s get this over with,” he finds himself saying. “Anywhere in this school where we can talk along, or…?”

“Follow me,” said Blaine. Kurt does. Blaine leads him a room with too nice leather couches. Blaine takes a seat on one of them and motions for Kurt to sit down. Kurt sits across from him on the very edge of the cushion. “Kurt…” began Blaine, who looked like he was trying to find the right words. “I’m so sorry.”

Kurt hadn’t expected that.

His face must have expressed this, because Blaine sighed and continued. “I left you after the dance and never said another word to you. I regret that so much…I mean, at first it was my parents who made it happen. They decided that I needed to leave that town. Come to a private school that might…help me.” Blaine winced at his words. “They didn’t want me around…” Blaine sighed.

Around people like me, Kurt thought. People who were so obviously gay.

“Then, after a while, I knew I could call you if I really wanted…drive to your house…anything, but I was…a coward.” Blaine swallowed and looked away from Kurt. “I guess I can’t blame you for hating me.”

Kurt didn’t say anything to deny his words. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he could deny them. Kurt didn’t know if he really, really hated Blaine or…just the opposite.

Kurt stopped those thoughts in his tracks.

“You didn’t say anything,” whispered Kurt. “Your house was empty. You didn’t even have a cell phone I could call. You disappeared, leaving me to deal with everything by myself.”

Blaine looked like he was in pain as Kurt spoke, and a part of Kurt felt some sort of justice for it.

“Did you…go to school again? I know you’re here now so obviously…” Blaine trailed off, the unspoken question of “did something worse happen to get you here?”

“No. I was home schooled after it happened,” said Kurt, almost harshly. “But it doesn’t mean the awful looks and whispered slurs didn’t follow me at the store. Or around town. It didn’t stop the spray paint on my house or the TP on Halloween.”

“I’m…sorry,” said Blaine hollowly. “I wanted to -” He stopped. “I wanted to by your friend, Kurt. So much.”

“So did I,” said Kurt, not even saying that the Kurt back then wanted to be so much more.

“I still want to be your friend. Can we…pick up where we left off?” asked Blaine, hopeful expression on his face. “I’m in the Warblers, Dalton’s Glee club and I remember how much you talked about loving to sing and hated that Powell didn’t have a choir so -”

“I don’t sing, Blaine.”

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t sing, Blaine. Not anymore. I don’t want to join your Glee club.”

It hurt too much to sing. Who did he have to sing for, anyway? He was home schooled. He couldn’t be part of a Glee club. His life had been just fine without one, anyway.

Blaine looked like a kicked puppy. “It’s fun,” he said. “Maybe you should…”

“Blaine.”

Blaine stopped talking. “I understand…” he said. “I just…I hope we can try to be friends, even if you think it’s not possible. I understand you need some time. I really do.”

“I do need time,” said Kurt simply. “I’m not like you. Not anymore…” Kurt sighed and stood. “I just…I can’t right now.”

Kurt walked briskly from the room, ignoring as Blaine called his name behind him.