Chapter 4:

The assignment was due the following month. Time seemed to sweep swiftly by and Kurt and Blaine were a lot more at ease with one another. They met twice a week at the library and Blaine didn't seem to threaten Kurt as much as he had done in the first couple of weeks. He still treated him like crap at school and sometimes out of school, but it was progress.

Or maybe not, since Blaine didn't really want to be nice to him. At the same time, however, he did and it was senseless and stupid, but it was also a fact. He denied it every day, but they had developed some form of indirect friendship. Kurt was sort of nice to him sometimes, even though he treated him like garbage. Most of the time he looked at him like he was better than him and Blaine wasn't used to that. There was something about Kurt that both intrigued and frustrated Blaine simultaneously. He still couldn't figure out why he was so intrigued by him, but he was.

"I think we're done," Kurt said, scanning his blue eyes across the essay for the umpteenth time. "And we're a week early," he smiled, pleased with the work they had done.

Blaine smiled, then frowned when he realised their weekly meetings were going to come to a stop for a little while, until the next assignment was given out. He guessed he sort of liked spending time with Kurt. He would never tell anyone that, but Kurt was kind of funny and he didn't feel as if he had to play tough guy as much around him. Sure, he had to send a few insults his way and put him down in order to keep the bully/victim policy in tact, but Kurt didn't look at him like he expected anything of him. Blaine friends, Puck and Karofsky and the others, they looked to him to instigate almost everything, they looked to him for answers, looked to him when they needed a leader. Blaine was sort of tired of that.

"So, um," Blaine stammered a little bit. "Since this assignment was on cultural context, I'm betting the next one is on theme. We could get started early?" he offered, hopefully, much to his own chagrin.

Kurt laid the essay down and raised his cyan eyes to meet Blaine's. Blaine was sort of distracted by what Kurt was wearing. He always dressed so elaborately. His sweater was—Blaine wasn't even sure what it was. It was all colours and shapes and must have been hell to get into. He wore skin tight jeans and black combat boots. Blaine wondered how Kurt managed to walk in those jeans. He was forever wearing them.

"Blaine, we have lots of time to start the next one," Kurt reasoned.

Blaine sighed and sat back, regretting it the moment he did it. Why did he want to spend time with Kurt anyway? It was ridiculous. He had friends. He didn't need Kurt.

"So, there's this party on Sunday," Blaine found himself saying. It was too late to take it back now. "I know you're sort of—not making any, you know, friends around here."

It was true. Blaine sometimes saw Kurt sitting across the canteen by himself, eating carrot sticks, head bowed and avoiding eye contact with anyone. Sometimes he felt like standing up from his place at the 'cool table' and walking across to sit with him. Most of the time, Kurt's conversation was far more interesting than anything his friends had to say.

"I was thinking you could come—go," Blaine went on. "If you wanted."

Kurt's eyes were wide, his face a mask of confusion. Blaine felt himself flushing madly. Why did he have to go and say something like that?

"I don't do parties," Kurt shook his head.

"Ever?"

"Never."

Blaine couldn't remember a time when there had been a party he hadn't gone to.

"Make an exception," Blaine shrugged.

"Why?"

Good question. Blaine couldn't have told him why, because he didn't know the answer. He regained his composure then rattled off an excuse.

"Because I'm tired of you moping around the school by yourself," he told him. "It's bad enough that you're there in the first place, but you go around with your head down like it's the end of the world. At least if you had some other losers to hang around with, I wouldn't have to see your ridiculous frown every time I turn a corner."

Kurt's expression didn't change much. He shook his head a bit.

"I'm not even invited."

"I'm inviting you right now," Blaine shrugged.

"It's not your party."

"It's as good as. If I invite someone, they're invited, simple as that. It's imy/i school, Hummel and if I want to invite someone to a party, then I'll invite them."

"Must be great to be you," Kurt rolled his eyes. "I can't tell if I'm repulsed or touched at the offer, but I'm not going to go."

Kurt Hummel was the most frustrating human being on the planet.

"Why?" Blaine groaned, quietly.

"I have no reason," Kurt retorted. "Plus, I won't know anyone."

"You know me."

"Yes, Blaine, I know you, but in public, you only ever seem to empty iced drinks over my head, or lock me in flipped over porta-potties, so that's not really a comforting factor."

He had a point, Blaine guessed, but he wanted him there. He couldn't have said why, he just did.

"So, you won't come."

Kurt shook his head, his perfect coiff not budging.

"My life is awkward enough without adding an hour or two standing by myself at some guy's party that I don't even know."

Blaine was at a loss. Kurt, like his hair, was not budging an inch. He wondered if maybe he could convince him before Sunday.

"So, tomorrow," he said, changing the subject. "Do you want to start the next assignment right after school?"

Kurt looked uneasy then, his eyes leaving Blaine's.

"Can't."

"Why not?" Blaine asked, eyes slitting to study Kurt.

Kurt mumbled something that Blaine didn't quite catch. He asked him to repeat it.

"I've got glee club," he muttered, quietly.

"Glee club?"Blaine sluttered. "You're in glee club?"

"Actually, I'm auditioning," Kurt said, hesitantly.

"You sing?"

"That's sort of what glee club is. Singing and dancing and stuff," Kurt nodded, looking at Blaine like he'd just gotten 1+1 wrong.

"Sing something," Blaine challenged, sitting back in his chair, arms folded.

"Blaine," Kurt said, patiently. "You have been barred from this library once, we can't afford to have me barred for breaking out in song amongst the romance novels."

Blaine glanced around. Yes, they were in the romance section. For some reason, that made him feel uncomfortable. He was still feeling really sick, but it wasn't as frequent now as it had been before.

"Why are you auditioning for glee?" Blaine asked, because he genuinely didn't understand. "Don't you think you're already enough of an outcast, without adding prancing around in skirts and ringing bells to the mix?"

Kurt scowled at him.

"They don't ring bells or wear skirts—well, maybe some of the girls do," he said, looking thoughtful. "But I'm going because I like to sing and I don't have much else to do. So what if it pushes me even further down on the 'cool scale?'" he twisted his fingers into air quotes. "You guys give me hell as it is, I figure it can't really get much worse."

Blaine frowned. Kurt really had no idea.

It had happened on his third Monday at McKinley High. He had been walking to his locker after lunch, minding his own business, when they had struck. The first person he saw was Puckerman—the guy who looked as if he had roadkill on his head. Karofsky, Azimio and Blaine all came into view right after him. They all wore creepy smiles—all except Blaine who just looked a little green—as they walked right up to him.

Karofsky pushed him back against the wall and his bag fell from his shoulder. Kurt's heart was hammering away in his chest, his mind clouded with fear and anger and the urge to push them away from him. Sometimes—most of the time, when this happened, he wanted to turn to Blaine and scream at him, ask him why he was like this, because even though he still behaved like he was superior to Kurt while they were alone, it was a far cry from how he behaved towards him when he was with his friends.

"Why do you gotta walk around lookin' so God damned gay all the time?" Karofsky asked, disgust on his face.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I'm gay?" Kurt offered, rolling his eyes.

Despite the fact that he knew it was better to keep your mouth shut and just let them do what they had to do, sometimes he couldn't control it.

"Don't talk back to me, Hummel," Karofsky said between clenched teeth as he shoved Kurt harder against the wall.

Kurt's back ached instantly, his skin throbbing where he had been shoved. Suddenly, Puckerman was at his side, tugging his jacket off his shoulders. Kurt jerked out of his reach, but Puck was a jock, he was stronger than Kurt.

"Your clothes belong to some glamorous grandma," Puck said, holding Kurt's jacket between his thumb and forefinger, as if he might catch a disease from it if he went any closer.

"At least the grandma is glamorous," Kurt uttered. "It's better than wearing the same jacket every day and not washing it—ever—like you guys do."

Kurt knew that was a lie, he had smelled Blaine enough to know that he washed his jacket almost daily.

"That's it, lady boy," Blaine said, stepping forward, but he didn't look as if his heart was in it. "You're going to be very, very sorry."

Kurt looked at Blaine, looked him right in the eye and urged him to back down, tried to send him some sort of telepathic message, but obviously, that didn't work. Blaine wasn't really a bad guy. He had learnt that over the past few weeks. He just believed that this was who he was. He didn't know how to be any other way.

Azimio was snarling now as he tugged a locker door open, snapping the lock with his strong hands. Kurt swallowed hard, realising what was about to happen. Blaine took him by the right arm, Karofsky took him by the left and began lifting him off his feet towards the open locker. Puck laughed like a hyena as he threw Kurt's jacket into a trash can.

Kurt's heart was beating fast. He looked to Blaine, trying to send him messages. You don't have to do this, you're better than this, but Blaine avoided his eyes entirely. Kurt had been inside a locker before. It had been the worst twenty minutes of his life and he couldn't stop the coughing for days afterwards. He wasn't sure his emotional state was going to be able to handle this again.

Maybe he's not better than this, Kurt thought as Blaine and Karofsky lifted him higher and began pushing him into the tight metal space.

Then the clip clop of heels sounded down the corridor and the jocks' heads all swung round towards the direction in which the sound was coming.

"Shit," Karofsky hissed and they let him go. "You're lucky this time, Hummel," he said, eyes burning through Kurt.

Blaine, Karofsky, Puck and Azimio hurried away then and Kurt pressed his back against the wall, relieved that they had left him alone. He wondered if fate was on his side for once. He stayed there for a long time. The teacher—or whoever had been around the corner—never came in his direction. He stood up straight then, because something had been stabbing him in the back. He turned around to see a thumbtack, holding a flier against the wall.

NEW DIRECTIONS!

LOOKING FOR NEW MEMBERS!

GLEE, BY ITS VERY DEFINITION, IS ABOUT OPENING YOURSELF UP TO JOY!

AUDITIONS ON TUESDAY AFTER SCHOOL IN THE CHOIR ROOM!

Underneath was an empty sign up sheet and a pen attached to a frayed string. Kurt stared at it for a moment. Fate, he thought briefly, before taking the pen in his still shaking hand and scribbling his name on the audition sheet.

Kurt Hummel.

He dropped the pen and walked away, heading towards his locker.

He could do with some joy in his life.

On Thursday after school, as he walked towards the choir room, Kurt wondered why he had signed up for a glee club audition. He was beyond nervous and had never even sung in public before. He didn't really have a voice like everyone else did. He wouldn't fit in, wouldn't suit the dynamic they had already set up. However, he kept on going, because fate, he reminded himself, was on his side.

He took a deep breath, then walked through the open door, to be met by thirteen sets of eyes. Kurt felt himself blush, feeling awkward with everyone looking at him like that. He was probably going to fall.

A teacher with curly hair grinned at him.

"Hi!" he said, enthusiastically. "You must be Kurt Hummel! Welcome to glee club! I'm Mr Schuester!"

Kurt tried to smile, but failed miserably.

"So, do you have a song prepared?" Mr Schuester asked, still smiling brightly. "Or if you like, you can just sit in today and see how you like it?"

"Mr Schuester," a voice came from across the room, before Kurt could speak. Kurt looked in the direction from which the voice had come and saw a short girl with straight, brown hair, wearing a maroon sweater with a bucking horse on the front. He grimaced, wondering what could have possessed a person to leave the house in something so hideous. "With all due respect, we are so close to sectionals. We need singers! This is supposed to be audition day and I don't know if you've noticed, but there's not exactly a queue lined up outside the door."

"Were we supposed to queue up?" a blonde girl wearing a cheerios uniform asked from the back row. Everyone ignored her, so Kurt only stared at her in confusion for a moment, before looking away.

The girl in the awful sweater was looking at Kurt now.

"Kurt Hummel, I don't mean to sound pushy or make you feel pressurised, but we need you to audition today."

Kurt gave her a nod.

"That's fine."

"Oh," the girl said, lowering herself back down in her seat. "Very well."

Mr Schuester clapped his hands together before giving Kurt another wide smile.

"It doesn't even need to be a whole song, Kurt," he said, gently. "Just.. show us what you can do!"

He took a seat and Kurt laid his bag down at his feet, heart thumping far too quickly in his chest. He tried to push away the nerves and inhibitions, before opening his mouth to sing.

"I don't expect my love affairs to last for long,

Never fool myself that my dreams will come true,

Being used to trouble I anticipate it,

But all the same I hate it, wouldn't you?"

Kurt briefly wondered why he had chosen this song. It didn't look as if anyone in the room had ever heard it before, except for sweater girl, who was lip syncing the words.

"So what happens now?

So what happens now?

Where am I going to?

Where am I going to?"

He realised that singing the song by himself meant leaving the entire title of the song out of the song and felt stupid for doing it. He closed his eyes as he continued, trying to block out the blank stares he was receiving.

"Time and time again I've said that I don't care,

That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through,

But every time it matters all my words desert me,

So anyone can hurt me, and they do."

He sang the chorus again, the band playing along. He felt a bit more relaxed now that he was almost done. The final verse was next, so he gave it everything, suddenly aware of just how much he really wanted to be in glee. No one was laughing, that was a good sign. Maybe this would be okay.

"Call in three months time and I'll be fine, I know,

Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow,

I won't recall the names and places of each sad occasion,

But that's no consolation here and now."

Kurt sang the final chorus before the music faded away, his heart in his mouth. All eyes were on him. He stared into space avoiding making eye contact with anyone. Everyone began clapping then and Kurt felt his face heating up. Mr Schuester stood up from his seat and gave Kurt a pat on the back.

"Kurt," he said with a smile. "Welcome to glee club!"

"Rachel Berry," the girl with the horse sweater said when Kurt walked into the canteen at lunch time on Wednesday.

"Um," was all he said, distracted by the girl—Rachel's outfit; A pencil skirt, knee length socks, sensible brogues and another sweater, this time a bunny on the front. Kurt shuddered.

"I'm the star of glee club," Rachel said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "You're talented, but I'm talented, ambitious and a star."

Kurt gaped at her for a moment, wondering why she was flaunting her narcicissm in front of his face.

"You sang Evita for your audition."
Kurt nodded.

"Eva Perón is one of my dream roles," she informed him, smiling. "Well, I just thought you should know. See you later."

She walked away, nose in the air. Kurt stared after her, unable to shake the feeling that he had been threatened, indirectly.

"Pay no attention to that girl."

Kurt spun around to see another girl from glee club standing there.

"Um, hi," Kurt uttered.

"I'm Mercedes Jones," the girl said, smiling as she extended a hand to Kurt. He took it and shook it gently. "Boy, you can sing!"

Kurt allowed himself to smile a bit.

"Thank you."
"Rachel is just jealous. She thinks she's our star, but both you and I could sing her under the table given the chance. Hey, why don't you come sit with us?"

Kurt hesitated, looking around, making sure it wasn't some kind of joke or set up. He saw Blaine across the room, at his table. He was looking in Kurt's direction, his expression unreadable. Next to him was Puck. Kurt turned back to Mercedes and gave her his best smile.

"I'd love to, thank you."

"So, the party on Sunday," Blaine said on Friday during English.

They were supposed to be working on their assignment, but since they had completed it already, they were just talking about nothing.

"Who even has a party on a Sunday?" Kurt shook his head.

"Puckerman."
"Figures," Kurt rolled his blue-green orbs.

"So, are you going to come?"
"No, I told you that already."

"Why?"

"Why do you want me to go so badly?"

Blaine looked taken aback. He looked as if he was going to insult him or threaten him, but instead, he sighed.

"I don't," he replied. "I told you. I think you need to get some friends."
"I have friends."
It was true. He had been hanging out with Mercedes and Rachel and the other members of the glee club; Tina, Brittany, Santana, Artie, Finn, Mike, Rory and Sam. He was getting on particularly well with Mercedes and even Rachel, even if neither he nor Rachel were prepared to admit it. Rachel was talented, too. She'd sung So Long Dearie from Hello Dolly! at the lunch table the day before. They were all really nice—even Rachel— and didn't treat him like an outcast. For once in his life, he felt accepted.

"Those glee losers?"

"Don't call them that, they're nice," Kurt told Blaine.

Blaine snickered beside him.

"Berry and her animal sweaters? That kid in the wheelchair? Trouty mouth?" he said. "They're what you call friends?"

Kurt scowled, because Blaine was being incredibly rude and unfair.

"Well, they don't slushie me or shove me inside lockers, so yes, I would consider that an improvement to the only thing I had that came close to friendship before I met them."
He saw Blaine flinch. It was only a tiny movement, but it had happened and it satisfied Kurt.

"Suit yourself, Hummel," he said with a sigh.

"I will."

"HE STOLE MY DIARY!" Rachel ran into the cafeteria and screamed at the entire glee club population at the lunch table. She was soaking wet, her dark hair dripping.

Everyone started asking questions. Finn, Rachel's boyfriend, pulled her down onto a bench and told her to speak slowly. Of course, this was Rachel and speaking slowly was close to impossible for her.

"Noah Puckerman," she said, sounding as if she might cry. "He slushied me, then tore my diary from my little hands and took off down the hallway! What if he looks inside?"

Rachel buried her head in the crook of her boyfriend's neck and began to cry.

"This is bad," Mercedes said to Kurt, quietly. "Like, really bad."

"It is?" Kurt asked, wondering if Rachel had some kind of deep, dark secret hidden between the pages of her diary.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Puckerman is having a party this weekend. Chances are the footballers and cheerleaders are going to read her diary together at that."
Kurt chewed his bottom lip. He looked over at Rachel, Finn rubbing small circles across her back as she sobbed into his neck, soaking his shirt. He glanced across to the popular table, at Puck flicking peas at Karofsky and laughing, at Karofsky scowling and flicking them back, at Blaine staring down at his tray, blankly.

The bell went and people began to move. Kurt stood up and grabbed his bag.

"You ready?" Mercedes asked.

"I need to talk to Rachel for a minute," he said. "Come on."

He and Mercedes walked across to where Rachel stood. Finn gave her a quick kiss and walked away. She looked dejected, her hair sticky and hard.

"Hey, Rachel," Kurt said, softly, feeling bad for the girl.

She turned to look at him, puppy dog eyes red rimmed and shining. She sniffled and wiped her tears.

"I think I can get your diary back for you."