It wasn't much, but it was a lot more than Kurt had even dared to hope for.

He was standing in front of his new closet at Dalton, having just opened the double wooden doors in his dorm that looked big enough to contain all of Narnia. The doorway nearly reached the ceiling, taller than Kurt himself, and looked wide enough to conceal at least six of him.

The inside was, unfortunately, smaller, and nothing about it could measure up to Kurt Hummel's fashionista standards. Still, looking at it now, Kurt realized that it was actually much nicer than he ever would've thought it could be.

There were four drawers along the bottom and a metal shoe rack on top of them. Kurt shuddered as he realized that he would only have room to store four pairs of shoes. Two pairs of flat, varnished shoes were already taking up half of the space on the rack.

As for the clothing, the closet was filled with hangers occupied by a blazer and an endless supply of identical white button-downs and cardigans in multiple colors. However, none of that caught Kurt's eye. He was immediately drawn to two hangers hung on top of everything else. They were tied together by a thin rubber band and held one pink and one peach-colored cardigan.

Attached to the top was a note written in black marker. Kurt would recognize that sloppy handwriting anywhere.

I don't know if they're a good color for your hair or if they have the right seams or whatever, but I got the administration to approve them as a part of your uniform, so knock yourself out. Happy housewarming, kid. Love, Dad.

Kurt's fingers played with the soft, pink cashmere while he read the note. There really wasn't anything Burt wouldn't do for him.

Kurt smiled, bringing the pink sleeve to his nose and drawing in a deep breath through his nose. There was an unmistakable new-clothes smell, but the underneath, the sleeve held the musky scent of his dad's shaving cream. Kurt had smelled it his whole childhood - that exact brand - and it reminded him of home.

With the little variation that his wardrobe offered, it didn't even take five minutes for Kurt to put an outfit together. His first day of classes was finally here; the Monday he'd been dreading. He was starting to get nervous as he finished dressing, tying his tie and pulling on the pink sweater. Kurt's nose scrunched up as he gazed at himself in the mirror, because the colors of the sweater and the tie were a total mismatch. Nonetheless, he got his bag and the schedule he'd gotten two days before and started making his way to AP English.

000

The classroom markings made no sense at all to Kurt. He was walking amongst floods of students also making their way to first period (who knew Dalton had so many students?), while desperately trying to find room A421.

By the time Kurt realized that the different sections of the school had different letter markings, most people were already gone from the halls. Kurt checked his leather-strap watch - one of the few accessories they were actually allowed to wear - and realized classes had started two minutes ago.

Crap, Kurt thought, annoyed,�This is bad.

He hurried up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, until he started to feel his undershirt stick to his back. Yuck. This was why he hated hurrying; it always left him breathless and covered in gross bodily fluids.

It was when Kurt found himself in a hallway where the numbers jumped from A419 to B434 that he decided that he needed help if he ever wanted to make it to class. He was hurrying along the next hallway, set on going back to the administration office on ground floor, when he ran into a group of students occupying a table set. They were laughing, talking, having a good time… and seeming to be in no hurry at all to get to class.

Kurt approached them slowly. It seemed strange to see Dalton students acting less-than polite, but of course, Kurt wasn't na�ve enough to believe that the people here were all good. However, he certainly couldn't understand why some people would just waste an expensive, top-class education like that.

They are either rich or spoiled or both, Kurt thought bitterly.

Still, he might as well ask them if they knew where his classroom was.

As he got closer to the group, they responded by quieting down. A couple of the guys threw bored glances his way, but they were hardly eager to acknowledge his presence. They went back to their conversation as if he wasn't there.

"Excuse me," Kurt tried.

But no one even turned an eye at him. There was a pang in his chest, ingrained deeply after years and years of being bullied, tormented, harassed and ignored, and he wondered if this treatment was, again, because he was gay. He didn't exactly think that his pink cardigan was helping, but he wasn't sorry. He didn't regret his choice because no matter what anyone said or did to him, he'd always be more comfortable being himself. He'd be himself at any opportunity he was given - dressing flamboyantly, singing falsetto or talking about Vogue - even if he was taunted for it. He'd rather deal with that than be someone he wasn't.

But maybe it isn't because of me, Kurt's thought.

There was actually a possibility that they were just the kind of people who thought they were better than everyone else - not that that was any better, really. Not for them, at least. In both scenarios, they were the jackasses.

Kurt overlooked the fact that the guys were overlooking�him, crossed his arms over his chest, and refused to back down or be intimidated. If he wanted his stay at Dalton to be different from McKinley, he'd have to let everyone know right away that he wouldn't accept being bullied.

"Hi!" Kurt chimed unnecessarily loudly. It seemed to be working though, because some of the guys actually turned to look at him.

"I'm new here, and I was wondering if anyone of you knew the way to room A421."

By now, Kurt practically had the damn room number tattooed to his mind.

The way the guys were sitting, Kurt noticed, was almost like a circle. The two chairs were occupied, and so was the coffee table between them, but other than that the guys were sitting and standing somewhat upright around the guy in the far left chair. It was as if the guy was in the middle of everything, and the rest simply hovered around him. As soon as Kurt noticed this, the central guy's eyes landed on him.

He stared at Kurt intently, searching for some sort of indication or give-away. His eyes were cold and hard, but there was something about them that was luring Kurt in, making him want to keep looking.

"My name's Blaine," the guy said suddenly, apparently deciding that Kurt seemed alright. He spoke slowly, and he earned more than a couple of confused glances from his friends.

"Kurt," Kurt supplied quickly.

The guy - Blaine - nodded slowly, and Kurt watched as one of the other guys smirked at Blaine, and how Blaine turned to him and smirked back.

Blaine turned back to him, face serious again. "Yeah, Nate knows where it is," he said, answering Kurt's previous question. He gestured to a guy to his left, a skinny lad with pitch-black hair, snow-white skin and icy blue, piercing eyes.

"AP English, right?" Nate asked, chuckling.

"Mhm," he said, barely containing his amusement. "I'm�supposed�to be there right now."

The other guys chuckled with him, but Kurt didn't think it was funny at all. He looked over at Blaine, to see that he wasn't laughing either.

A guy with strawberry blonde hair leaned over to Blaine and whispered something in his ears, lips barely moving. Kurt didn't catch what he said, but the way the other guys cracked up and turned their eyes to his shirt was sort of an obvious give-away.

That was the last straw for Kurt's patience.

"Yes, I'm gay! Yes, I speak like a girl! And yes, I'm wearing a pink sweater! But I like who I am, and I don't care if you don't. So please, give me a direction to walk in or tell me to fuck off so I can get away from you. I honestly don't care which you choose at this point."

Kurt was practically panting by the time he was finished, and his voice was filled with venom. But he allowed himself to be internally pleased by the baffled looks on the guys' faces. Blaine rose quickly and took a couple of steps closer to Kurt. The closeness and the strange intimacy of Blaine's eyes trained firmly on his was enough to catch Kurt's off guard.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said earnestly. He sounded so sincere that Kurt wanted to believe him right away. He took another step closer to Kurt. "

We got off to a bad start. We're actually really nice."

Kurt heard a guy (he assumed it was Nate) snicker and then gasp in pain as a chubby guy elbowed him in the ribs. He didn't actually see any of it, because he was having a hard time tearing his eyes away from Blaine, who was checking him out unabashedly.

Blaine took another step closer, so that he was breathing right beside Kurt's ear. It tickled down his neck. Suddenly there was a hand resting around Kurt's waist, and the tip of a rough finger toying with the hem of his shirt, which was tucked down into his pants.

Kurt knew he should be embarrassed or pull away; he could feel the heat of a blush creeping up his neck, wallowing over him like a wave, but it was like he couldn't. He was too enticed by Blaine's eyes. The color was so warm and soft. And Kurt could swear that the honey in his golden irises was swirling around like the currents of a river.

"Nate will show you to the room," Blaine whispered, right into Kurt's face.

Kurt barely registered what Blaine had said, because all he could think of was how close those plush, red lips were. Close enough that he could almost touch them with his own.

Then Blaine turned his eyes to Nate, and said, quite harshly, "Won't you, Nate?"

And it was like something snapped.

Kurt suddenly realized how close he was standing to Blaine and just how badly he was blushing. He took a quick look around the others and was almost shocked that no one seemed to care even a teensy bit about what had gone down between him and Blaine. Kurt wondered if they'd missed it. But they couldn't have, right?

Of course, there was one black-haired boy whose eyes had become just a little bit more icy.

"With pleasure," Nate said flatly, and rose from where he was sitting on the floor.

Nate started walking, and Kurt did the same. But he'd only taken a few steps to get around Blaine, when he noticed something strange. There was something peculiar with their blazers, they were different somehow.

As they walked away, Kurt thought about when he had seen Sebastian and the other senior on his tour in uniform for the first time. He tried to visualize it in front of him, and he realised that the blazers Blaine and his friends had been wearing were different. There was definitely something that seemed strange about them…

Nate held a door open for him, and it was when Kurt passed him by, casting an eye over Nate's unbuttoned blazer, that Kurt realized what it was. It was the school crest, embroidered on the upper right chest.

It was blue.

Kurt remembered the uniform from the first day very specifically: the navy blue blazer and the blood-red piping. That crest had been red, these ones were blue.

Walking silently with Nate, who seemed to be in his own dark little world, Kurt tried to come up with a reason why their crests might be blue. He couldn't remember seeing it on any other students. Maybe they were exchange students? Or juniors? Maybe all grades had different colors? Kurt wasn't wearing his own blazer, so he couldn't check what color his was. He'd been too nervous in the morning to think about such a trivial thing.

He glanced at Nate again and noticed that the other boy was looking at him expectantly.

"Sorry?" Kurt asked.

"I asked," Nate repeated patiently, speaking almost insultingly slowly, "if it's your first day here."

"My first school day, yes," Kurt told him, ignoring the tone. It was probably nothing.

Nate nodded. "And you're from…?"

"McKinley High in Lima."

Nate opened a third door, and Kurt gratefully stepped through it.

"Voila, here we are, di niente," Nate announced, and made a little bow to accompany the hand gesturing to the door in front of them.

Nate turned to leave, and Kurt couldn't help but to ask, "Aren't you gonna come to class?"

"Nah," he answered with a shrug. "Don't feel like it."

He turned to leave again, but this time he stopped of his own accord. He took a few steps back to Kurt, stopping right in front of him so they face to face.

"Look," he said quickly, "I know Blaine, and I know what he does to guys. That's why I'm warning you now-" he looked around as if to assure that the empty hallway was still empty "-stay away from him."

"Thanks," Kurt replied confusedly. But when he saw Nate's superior smirk, he couldn't help but to add, "But I can take care of myself."

"Right."

To say that Nate looked doubtful would be as redundant as stating that the sky was blue.

"I can," Kurt repeated stubbornly.

"You didn't seem to be able to five minutes ago when he was all over you."

Kurt pursed his lips, but didn't acknowledge his slip-up in any other way. It was a momentary lapse of judgment, nothing more.

"Just… no offense," Nate continued, "but I've seen stronger men fall victim to his charm-"

"I'm not gonna fall in love with him or anything, if that's what you think," Kurt interrupted.

Nate scoffed and smiled bitterly. "I know what I'm talking about, alright? As soon as he gets his real moves on, you'll be done for."

Kurt frowned and crossed his arms again, showing his displeasure.

"Then why are you telling me all of this? If - hypothetically - I'm just gonna fall for him anyway? Then I'll have no chance."

"No, you won't," Nate concluded, which just confused Kurt even more. "But his mind's not set on you yet, so if you just stay away from him, he will do the same to you."

Nate's cold stare faded, and he stepped back. He was obviously confident enough to believe his message had been heard. What must've been the fakest smile Kurt had ever seen was plastered onto his lips.

"Just use your senses, Kurt." Nate was slowly backing away. "You seem like a smart enough guy. Stay away from him unless you want trouble, 'cause he'll give you plenty."

With that, he opened the door behind him and slipped away soundlessly, leaving Kurt alone again.

Shaking his head, Kurt sighed and knocked on the door to the classroom. It was opened a couple of seconds later by an old man holding a book and with round glasses perched low on his nose. He had a lot of stubble, white stubble, and his skin was flushed red. Kurt shuddered at the sight and felt an urge to run off to the bathroom for an impromptu skin-care routine.

But he resisted the urge and instead handed the teacher a paper.

"I'm new to this class," Kurt said quietly, feeling the other students' eyes boring into him with curiosity.

"Yes, of course," the teacher said with murmured clarity. "Come on in. And I will overlook your lateness… just this once."

"Thank you, sir," Kurt responded quietly as he stepped into the room behind the teacher, whose name he still didn't know.

The teacher cleared his throat to get the attention of the couple of students in the back. "Dear pupils, this is Mr. Hummel. He'll be joining our class henceforth, so make him feel welcomed."

Kurt was scanning the room for an empty seat and had just found one in the back when he suddenly heard a small burst of applause. Kurt turned toward the sound, his eyes landing on a guy with brown slicked-back hair smirking viciously and clapping his hands slowly.

"What now, Mr. de Ferris?" the teacher sighed heavily, clearly frustrated. He removed his glasses, put them into one hand, and patiently folded his arms behind his back as he waited for a reply.

Kurt was not surprised to see that the crest on the guy's jacket was blue. He didn't know what the crest meant yet, but he was starting to think it couldn't be anything good.

The student shrugged. "Forgive me; I was just admiring the new student's charades."

"What on earth are you going on about?" the teacher exclaimed, walking up to his desk.

The student only shrugged again.

"I demand you explain yourself!" the teacher urged, obviously struggling to stay calm.

With yet another shrug, the boy stayed silent. A mocking smile emerged on his lips.

Kurt was distraught; he didn't know if he should sit down and let the two work out their obvious issues, or if the teacher was expecting him to stay put. Therefore, Kurt kept wringing his hands nervously as he watched the exchange.

"Mr. de Ferris, I don't need any of your escapades this early on a Monday," the teacher said calmly after taking a few deep breaths.

"I already have plenty of trouble with your friend Mr. Anderson, who I am little surprised to see hasn't cared to join us."

"No such luck, Mr. Parrish."

The voice came from behind, from the doorway. Kurt turned and saw Blaine himself casually leaning against the door frame, books in one hand, dangling by his side, and the other hand pinching a lollipop between his index finger and thumb. The sugary treat was softly tracing the line of Blaine's lips.

Kurt was confused. Blaine had made it clear earlier that Nate shared this class with Kurt, but had said nothing about himself. Why didn't he walk him to class, if he was coming anyway?

Kurt was left wondering.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm glad you cared to join us… late." Blaine grinned and made his way to his seat, paying next to no attention to Kurt as he walked by. The chatter in the room was swelling by the second.

"Please people, this is not a circus! This is a school! Quiet down and let's continue…"

Okay, so Kurt figured he should probably grab a seat now. The only problem was, there were none available. In the same second as Kurt noticed this, Mr. Parrish noticed him.

"Mr. Hummel, care to sit?" Mr. Parrish said between clenched teeth, obviously on his last nerve.

Kurt blushed, but nodded quickly. When he looked back out over the sea of people, he saw a guy discreetly waving him over and sliding to the edge of his chair. Not wanting to be in the spotlight another second, Kurt obeyed.

"God, I so owe you one for this," Kurt whispered as he slid down on the chair.

The blonde next to him giggled quietly, and extended his hand under the table.

"I'm Casper."

"Kurt."

Casper smiled and turned back to the front of the classroom. Kurt didn't want to bother him any more when he'd already given up a comfortable chair for the whole lesson and was forced to sit uncomfortably on one butt cheek (at least Kurt was uncomfortable). But there was only so much time left of the semester, and Kurt needed to catch up.

"Mind filling me in what we're doing?"

"Reading aloud from a book we've been assigned to read," Caspar replied, not seeming to be bothered.

"Which book?"

As soon as Kurt had asked it, Mr. Parrish's voice rang loudly from the front of the room. "So,�The Sun Also Rises, page twelve, everyone!"

Caspar raised an eyebrow and chuckled. Kurt chimed in easily, wondering if he'd just made a friend. With this thought in mind, Kurt couldn't help but glance at Caspar's blazer.

Seeing the crest on his chest in all its red splendor should have made Kurt feel relieved; he should've been happy that he'd made a friend that was nice and generous, funny and kind of cute (and did he mention possibly gay?). He should've been relieved, but he couldn't help but be disappointed. The whole crest thing intrigued him for some reason, and he wanted to know what it meant. Maybe once he did he could get over his strange obsession with mysteries and accept that everything was normal at this school and in this world.

He'd ask Sebastian about the crest first thing next time they met.

The class dragged on slowly, due to both the Hemingway and Mr. Parrish's monotone voice. The fact that half of Kurt's butt was asleep didn't help either. Once in a while, Kurt would sneak a peek at Blaine. The first time, he'd regretted it, because Blaine had been sucking his lollipop intently, almost obscenely. The second time, Kurt had done it just to get a less compromising image in his head. He did, but he soon regretting looking the second time, too. Blaine had been leaning over to talk to the guy next to him, and had somehow caught Kurt staring. And so it went on.

Halfway into the class, Kurt felt like he was falling asleep. He wondered vaguely if the coffee the school served was decaf. He was also slightly panicking because he hadn't caught a single word of the book Mr. Parrish was reading aloud from.

As soon as Kurt's eyes closed involuntarily, he heard a sudden burst of laughter. He opened his eyes in confusion, and spotted Blaine and the guy from before talking loudly and making jokes. Kurt glanced at the front of the room just as Mr. Parrish fell silent and lowered the book from his gaze.

"Gentlemen," he called sourly. "If what you're discussing is more important than your education, feel free to step outside and continue. If not, be silenced." He shifted his eyes sternly between the two.

Just as he was about to get back to his book, satisfied that the boys had been subdued, Blaine spoke up.

"Actually, it�was�important," Blaine said, voice carrying across the room. His eyes were dark and challenging, and his smile was playful, almost like he was daring the teacher to start an argument with him.

"I was planning who to fuck next, so if you don't mind…"

"Mr. Anderson!" Mr. Parrish squeaked, "I will not tolerate such language in my classroom! I will not tell you twice: leave this room immediately, and we'll see each other again at five - in the principal's office!"

Blaine rose from his seat, grabbed his books from his desk and raised his hand to his forehead in a little salute. He looked surprisingly cheerful. "Sure thing, Mr. P. Thank you for saving me from this god-awful class!"

As soon as he was out the door, Kurt let out a long breath.

Maybe the blue crest just indicates 'trouble child'?�he mused.

After too long a time, the bell rang out, and each student was handed a copy of the book on their way out. And as if universe itself had planned it, one of the first people Kurt spotted in the hallway was Sebastian.

Kurt was dead-set on asking Sebastian about the crests, especially after Blaine's little show earlier. Sebastian grinned happily when he saw Kurt and excused himself from his friends. Kurt casually greeted Nick and Cade before turning to Sebastian.

"Can we talk for a bit?"

Surprised by Kurt's suggestion, Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "Sure. I mean, I gotta go to class soon but-"

"Why are some people wearing a blue crest on their school uniform?" Kurt blurted out. "The engraved 'D', what does it mean?"

If Kurt had hoped, or even believed for a moment, that the blue crests had a normal, reasonable explanation, he wouldn't now. Not after he saw the look on Sebastian's face.