CHAPTER 1: Settling

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[Present day, Lima, OH]

A seemingly endless expanse of brick walls greeted him as he stepped out of his 1967 black Camarro. He had his car parked next to a chain-linked fence and right next to a pearl-blue station wagon. He then reached for his newly purchased back pack from the passenger seat and slung it over one shoulder –it was a foreign sensation, no matter how many times he has done it in the past. The cheap neon green nylon material was appalling –against the pristine crisp white cotton of his button down shirt and the fitted cropped black velvet vest that he had on –but it was necessary. Flexing his neck muscles, he allowed himself to relax. But for some reason, no matter how much he tried to remind himself that this was not the first time he was to do this, he just couldnt help but feel a tad jittery.

Could this be it?

He shut the drivers side door close and pocketed the car keys in his washed black denim jeans and for a second, thought that they were the best clothing invention ever –why couldnt they have been available 200 years ago?

He shook his head and glanced at his watch. He still had to meet with the school principal for his class schedule. He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag and placed his other hand inside the pocket of his pants.

He bowed his head down as he began walking towards the two-storey building complex, trying not to attract attention; but he wouldnt have it his way. He cannot see them, but he could feel their eyes o him.

He ran his fingers through his wild dark curls to try and foster a sense of calm in his nerves. The last thing he wanted was to blow up at somebody, and in the process, attract more unwanted attention.

As he entered the main hall, his hazel eyes searched for signs to follow to the principals office. There were none.

Seriously? He asked himself, astonished. He checked his watch once more -it was an elegant silver piece, Swiss-made, way back from 1950s – he had no time to spare wandering around aimlessly. His eyes searched further, before deciding to seek assistance from a small brunette who had a picture of a reindeer on the front of her shirt.

"Excuse me," he began, his voice deep and certain. "Can you tell me where the principals office is?"

The brunette turned around to face him, a huge Cheshire cat grin plastered on her face. He backed away slightly.

"You must be new here," she said cheerfully, holding her hand out. "Im Rachel Berry."

He eyed the hand warily before deciding that a small brunette couldnt exactly pose a threat to him. He took the hand rather gingerly and shook it once before letting go without speaking. The girl frowned.

"Um, arent you even going to tell me your name? If youre new here, maybe I can show you around –or better yet, you can join Glee club! We are always looking for people who can sway in the background while I sing my solos –"

He shuddered inwardly. The girl was a chatterbox. And she wasnt going to stop anytime soon.

My instincts are taking a nose-dive, he thought as he began walking away. Next time, try to approach somebody who doesnt sound like they swallowed a recording of an infomercial,

"Hey, wait!" The girl called from behind him. He let out a deep breath before turning around to face her, his hazel eyes fixed in a glare. The girl shrank back.

Good to know I still got it, he smiled to himself.

"Uh, the principals office is down the hall, to your right, the first door," the girl said timidly.

He nodded his thanks and walked away, smiling to himself. Following her instructions, he stopped in front of a mahogany door that bore the sign: J.L. Figgins, school principal. Remembering his manners, he knocked. A muffled come in bade him to enter. He huffed before pushing the door open. A small man with dark skin and a receding hairline greeted him from behind an ornate desk cluttered with stacks of papers.

"Good morning, you must be Mr. Anderson," the man said, his accent thick and heavy. "We have been expecting you, have a seat."

Removing his backpack from his shoulder, he took a seat.

"My name is Blaine Anderson," he said curtly. "I came for my class schedules."

"Ah, yes," Principal Figgins reached for a folder in his drawer. "Well, Mr. Anderson, I must say that I am impressed with your academic records. We receive transferees her in McKinley High all the tie, but never have we encountered a student such as yourself –"

Blaine sighed. He should have seen this coming.

"Really sir, I mean no disrespect, but –"

"You have attended schools in London, Paris, Cairo, Manila –"

"Shanghai, Stockholm and Brussels," Blaine finished for him. "I know sir. My guardian is a businessman who has several endeavors all around the globe, hence the need for me to constantly travel with him. I took my freshman year I three continents –I would just want to finish my senior year in peace and quiet."

Figgins raised his eyebrows and appraised the young man in front of him.

"Surely Mr. Anderson, you have –"

"Please sir, my schedule?" Blaine held his hand out rather impatiently. Figgins sighed and closed the folder.

"Very well," he reached for another sheet of paper. "Here are your classes: Spanish, AP Physics, Government and History, Trigonometry, Gym and two electives of your choice –Ill give you a week to decide on those before we finalize your schedule. Are there any other questions?"

"No sir, thank you." Blaine nodded and exited the principals office. He glanced at the time table in his hands. He had first period Spanish under Mr. W. Schuster, which was due in 15 minutes. He began walking towards the direction of the classrooms when he was greeted by a loud slam. It was in the locker area to his right. He took a detour to see what it was about. He frowned at what he saw.

Three boys all in red letterman jackets that said Titans at the back were surrounding a smaller boy wearing a neat-looking cream-colored coat that blended nicely with his rosy complexion. The boy had deep dark blonde hair that was swept up in a perfect coif. He had a leather mailman bag slung across his chest and he hugged his books protectively against him. Blaine approached the scene slowly until he could hear them perfectly.

"What is wrong with you, Karofsky?" the small boy spat out angrily.

That voice, Blaine thought. He closed his eyes as he moved in closer.

"Nothings wrong with me," The one called Karofsky smirked. "I am not the faggot!" He then reached for the smaller boy and rammed him once more against the lockers. Blaine cringed at the sound and immediately opened his eyes. Karofsky and his lackeys were laughing. Blaine chanced a glance at the smaller boy. He knew that he was in pain. Blaine knew that he had to help him; he moved in closer, prepared to tell off the three hoodlums, but as soon as his eyes fell on that of the smaller boys, he froze.

Those eyes, Blaine couldnt believe himself. He stood frozen as he watched the scene progress. The smaller boy stood his ground and brushed his clothes off angrily.

"Takes one to know one, Karofsky."

Karofskys face morphed into a look of rage. He raised his fist, ready to strike the small boy.

"Why you –"

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A quick hand came from behind Karofsky and interrupted his fist. Dave Karofsky turned to face the bastard who dared to interrupt him, and was immediately accosted by a pair of smoldering hazel eyes, that upon closer inspection, showed tinges of fiery red. He snarled at the dark-haired stranger who possessed them.

"What do you think youre doing?" Karofsky tried to free his hand from the dark-haired guys grip, to no avail.

"Why dont you pick on someone your own size –and brain capacity?" A deep, velvety voice escaped the strangers lips. Karofsky felt pain shoot up from his hand. The bastard held his left hand in a vice-like grip.

"Who the hell are you?" Karofsky said, trying hard to conceal the fear he was feeling from the sheer power and dominance that seem to radiate from the guy who stopped him. The guy merely glared. Dave Karofsky yanked his hand away once more in fear. He looked over to his lackeys who were poised to strike the stranger.

"I wouldnt do that if I were you," the dark-haired stranger said darkly. Karofsky and his lackeys were stumped –unable to move all of a sudden. The stranger spoke once more.

"You know what? I hate bullies like you. You make me sick."

"Who the hell are you?" The three bullies shouted. They were still unable to move, fear, clearly etched in their eyes. Whether it was about the fact that they couldnt move or because of the glare the stranger in front of them gave them, they couldnt decide. They were just plain scared.

"Who the hell am I?" The stranger smiled." Blaine Anderson. And youre right, I came from hell. Now get lost!"

With those words. The three goons felt their limbs once more and fled, but not before yelling freak and giving Blaine the dirty finger. Blaine just laughed.

"Thank you," Somebody behind him said.

There was that voice again. Blaine spun around.

Those eyes… as clear as the ocean on a warm summers day…

Blaine felt his non-existent heart skip a beat. He cannot be mistaken…

Celestine!

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