The aforementioned Blaine was busy scribbling random doodles on to his rucksack with a worn Sharpie. The ruck sack was brand new, bestowed to him that morning as some sort of half hearted leaving gift. It was made from a thick green canvas, but it was too clean; no where near as frayed and patched as the one Blaine had dragged through the door with him seven months ago. He was determined to destroy it in some way.

Upon hearing his name Blaine looked upwards with a slight grin. He slung his bag on to shoulder and got up. He wasn’t very tall for a seventeen year old, but he was stocky, powerfully built after days spent pumping iron in boredom. Blaine’s scuffed boots pounded across the floor as he made his way over to the desk. Behind a sheet of protective glass, Ellen, one of the guards Blaine had met on his first day, observed him with tiresome eyes.

“Sign here, then you can go,” she explained. Through the slot cut in to the bottom of the glass she slid over a sheet of paper and a pen, which Blaine ignored as he produced his Sharpie from behind his ear. He signed the form with a flourish and pushed it back over.

“Don’t I get a smile before I go?” he asked Ellen cheekily. Ellen glanced up at him. “Come on,” Blaine said simperingly, leaning against the counter. “I like to think we had something going for us.” He gazed up at her from beneath a thick fringe of eyelashes.

One talent Blaine had picked up on early on in his life was his ability to charm even the sternest of people. It was a trick that had saved him in many tight spots and had earned him certain perks, especially throughout his teenage years when he had blossom in to something quite attractive. Ellen couldn’t resist a grin, which she tried to diguise with a roll of her eyes. She shook her head.

“I suppose I’ll miss you, Anderson,” she sighed.

“I’ll miss you too,” Blaine insisted. “Every day.” He planted his lips on the glass fleetingly, then swiftly adjusted his bag and sauntered from the room.

He was searched by the burly security guard at the door before he was admitted out. Blaine stepped forwards, his eyes slanting as he took a few moments to get used to the brightness of the sun. It felt like it had been years since he’d been outside, when in fact it had been just that morning during is daily jog around the yard. But this felt different. The air here didn’t seem so heavy, there were no boundaries beyond the tall gates standing before him on the horizon.

Blaine grinned again, pausing to flip up a finger at the building behind him before striding out to rejoin the world.

——-

Kurt Hummel stood in front of his mirror, swiftly observing himself with his bewitching blue eyes. He sighed. Ever since the accident he’d had trouble looking at himself for more than a few seconds at a time. Before Kurt used to spend hours parading in front of his mirror in a host of outrageous different outfits, whereas now even catching himself in the dull reflection of a window was enough to make his stomach churn. It was as if the attack had swallowed up whatever confidence he had had before.

Kurt brushed his fingers over his neck to stroke the ugly mark that was only just starting to scar. He hated how it stained his skin, so obvious that no amount of concealer could disguise it. People were bound to stare. Kurt tugged up the collar of his plain shirt in attempts to hide it. Then, with one last self conscious rustle of his auburn hair, he picked up his school bag and left the bedroom.

In the kitchen his dad and step mother, Carole, were hovering over the morning newspaper, cups of coffee clutched in their hands as they discussed an article in low voices. Upon hearing his son enter the room, Burt turned with a wide smile.

“All ready for school, kiddo? You look great,” he said encouragingly.

Carole moved over to affectionately smooth her fingers through Kurt’s hair. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked.

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. I’m just waiting for Rachel to pick me up.” He paused. “Her dads got her a new car over the summer.” He rarely bothered to make proper conversation these days, but he knew if he didn’t act at least half cheerful then his parents would only fuss.

“She’s a lucky girl.” Carole smiled.

The subject of Kurt’s own car, dented and destroyed in his fathers garage, went unspoken. The sound of heavy footsteps thudded down the hall and moments later, Carole’s son, Finn, appeared. He wore his letterman jacket and usual gormless expression. Finn was a promising football player, which Kurt thought was just as well, seeing as his brains or dance moves weren’t going to get him anywhere in life.

“Pancakes, honey?” Carole enquired. “Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head. Burt observed him with a stern expression. “Kurt you gotta eat,” he pressed.

“Fine,” Kurt sighed. “Do we have any granola bars left?” He could feel his fathers eyes burning in to him as he walked over to the cupboard, but Burt didn’t carry the argument on.

Kurt was grateful when he heard Rachel’s knock five minutes later. She breezed in to the room with a sunny expression, dressed in a flowery pink dress and a pair of white sandals that were clustered with plastic flowers and looked as though they had been taken from the children’s department. Kurt winced at the sight of them but didn’t have the motivation to make a comment.

“I have a good feeling about this year,” Rachel announced. “That finals trophy is ours.”

She was talking about the schools Glee club, which she, Kurt, and Finn were all in together. They were yet to win but Rachel was forever optimistic. Kurt and Finn bid their parents goodbye and followed Rachel outside. Her new car, a shiny blue convertible with its roof down, gleamed beneath splashes of morning sun. Finn nodded his approval.

“Nice ride,” he said.

“Watch your sneakers as you get in,” Rachel warned. “My dads will kill me if I mark the seats already.”

She slid behind the wheel, Finn joining her in the passenger seat, leaving Kurt to sit hunched in the backseat. It really was a tiny car; Kurt and Finn had to crane their necks to sit down properly. Rachel didn’t seem to notice, she was too busy working through her playlist, selecting a Katy Perry number before speeding out on to the road.

School passed Kurt in a blur. He was well aware of the stares and whispers that followed him. One girl, a dorky freshman, even had the nerve to come to him, jab a finger at his neck, and ask “Is that where the knife got you?” Rachel had been quick to pull Kurt aside, throwing the girl an incredulous glance that had had her skipping back off down the hall, giggling to her friends.

“People can be so tactless,” Rachel muttered.

“Hm,” was all Kurt could reply.

He didn’t speak all through English or French, and when he took his seat at the lunch table along with Rachel, Mercedes, and Artie, they all seemed to have given up on him, turning their backs to talk about Glee club. Kurt didn’t mind. He was happy to sit in silence, toying with his salad. Then, half way through her ham sandwich, Rachel noticed her phone ringing.

“It’s my dad,” she said with a frown. She left the table to take the call, leaving the others to stare after her.

“If that girl thinks she’s getting all of the solos again this year, she’s got another thing coming,” Mercedes muttered. “This year it’s all about Mercedes Jones.”

“Preach,” Artie agreed.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. When Rachel reclaimed her seat she looked pale.

“What’s wrong?” Mercedes asked, her words muffled by the potato tots rolling around in her mouth.

“Nothing,” Rachel said shakily. “My dad just said to make sure I went home straight away tonight. They have something to tell me.”

“Is everything all right?” Kurt said.

Rachel quickly brushed away her surprise at hearing his concern. ”I don’t know. It sounds a little important. Excuse me, I’m going to find Finn.” She got up, tossing her half eaten sandwich in a trash can before leaving.