As soon as the last class was dismissed for the day, Kurt let out a long sigh and all but collapsed into his chair. Rubbing his face, he started shoving papers from his brand new desk into his bag. He was new to teaching, only graduating from college two years ago before getting the job at his old high school, McKinley. Everyone always thought he would be too scared to come back, but he proved them all wrong.
At least he was fortunate enough not to receive a great amount of kids who would give him issues in his classes.
Except, unfortunately, he had gotten Blaine Anderson. The teachers all had warned Kurt about him, even Sue Sylvester, who had softened just the least bit since they had last chatted. Most teachers reacted oddly when they received news of Kurt’s new student, especially the loud chorus teacher Rachel Berry, who just happened to also have been Kurt’s best friend in high school. Well, his only friend really.
She had started her job earlier than him, and had already been warned about the boy, though she never actually had Blaine as a student, and it was really only fair that she cautioned Kurt as well.
~
“Kurt, I’m warning you, that boy will make you want to tear your gorgeous hair out,” she said in a serious voice as they sat down for coffee one morning per usual. She was as exuberantly annoying as ever, and dressed to kill in a short white dress. At least she had gotten a bit of fashion sense as she grew older. She had long abandoned her tacky sweaters when a few Neanderthals in college teased her for days, taking pictures and scribbling on them, calling her a kindergartener. The next week, she arrived looking as if she had stepped out of a photo-shoot, with perfect makeup and hot-as-hell clothes that made nearly every guy’s jaws drop, even more so her tormentors. It’s too bad for them that they had made fun of her in the first place, because after her transformation, whenever they asked her out, she would laugh in their faces. Rachel Berry most certainly was not one to forgive and forget easily.
“It’s too bad, according to Figgins and Emma; he used to be such a sweet boy.” She frowned, stirring milk into her own coffee as violently as ever, making the cup quiver with force.
“Rach, one, nothing would ever make me tear my hair out,” he said this with a swipe of a finger to fix a loose strand of hair. “Ever. And two, I’m pretty sure I can handle him.” He took a sip of his coffee, marveling in the taste. “Oh sweet Jesus I love whoever invented coffee.” Rachel laughed at him as he took another gulp and groaned low in his throat, sounding oddly like sex noises, but Rachel wasn’t about to point that out.
“Well they’re probably dead,” Rachel snipped instead, watching a young couple arguing heatedly on the sidewalk right outside of the window and rolling her eyes and pointing discreetly. “But seriously Kurt. Santana isn’t a walk in the park to teach either, she might even be worse. You will most likely have her at the same time as Blaine because somehow she convinces them to let her switch classes.” Kurt shrugged. He most definitely did not want to know what Santana had to do in order to switch her schedule around. He was a little worried about teaching Blaine, though. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips silently in grim determination. He handled a school full of homophobes and a judgmental world his whole life.
He could handle Blaine Anderson. He could handle this.
~
“I don’t think I can handle this.”
-
Blaine was, at the moment, sprawled out on the school bleachers, watching Santana take slow drags of her cigarette with a sour look on his face. Though he actually hated smoking, thought it was gross and unhealthy, he pretended to do it for the sake of his image. His image. Sometimes the thought that he now cared about other people’s opinion made him sick. But it kept him safe and alive, at least for now.
That’s exactly what it was though, faking. Faking everything. He had fooled everyone by just simply having a package out during school hours. Within the day, rumor had gone around that he was a chain smoker, going straight through 3 packages a day. One story even reached his ears when someone claimed to another student behind him that he had once almost killed someone because they stole his favorite lighter. Since word had already started spreading, Blaine just decided to go along with it, keeping a cigarette in his mouth sometimes just to make himself even more convincing.
Of course, Santana was the only one who knew the truth. She oddly never tried to convince him to smoke, and he never asked her why that was. He just assumed that it was because she understood. She always understood.
“What up your ass, Anderson?” Santana questioned before taking a huff from the smoke. The smoke billowed out of her mouth as she coughed, Blaine lightly patting her back in sympathy. “I know it’s not new teacher Hummel,” she said with a wink and another deep cough.
“You really shouldn’t smoke either ‘Tan.”
“Shut up mother,” she snipped, and he sighed, lifting his hands up in silent surrender, and she looked guilty. Blaine only let himself open up to her, and gave his sympathy to her. He used to be so fucking nice, she sometimes found herself thinking, feeling a pang of regret every time. Sometimes, though, she would get flashes of the caring, sweet boy that Blaine really was.
She loved those moments, living for the quick flicker of concern, or the genuine smiles directed her way that he let slip. To be quite honest, she hated the new person he had become; the shell of the terrific boy he had once been, the one that she herself had created.
~
“Hi Santana!” Blaine greeted happily, waving slightly even though they were only a few feet apart now. Her eyes took in his outfit, as unbelievably asinine as normal, but she found it incredibly endearing.
“Hey kiddo,” she grinned in return, rubbing his hair, laughing when he scowled.
“We’re the same age, ‘Tan,” he sighed out, probably his millionth time telling her this, hoping she would get the point.
“I know, just fucking with you-“ she cut off with a gasp when Blaine was suddenly covered head-to-toe with red and blue slush. His cute dimply smile flickered away and he inhaled sharply at the cold sensation, blinking rapidly, but then clamping them shut when the slushy started stinging his eyes. He was quivering from the cold drink onslaught, looking so small and embarrassed that Santana growled, so angry that her vision went white.
Santana stomped after the jocks who had thrown the slushies as Blaine yelled after her desperately, standing still from shock in the sticky mess and not completely able to open his eyes. She grabbed one of the guy’s shoulders, digging her nails in so sharply that he hissed, turning around to face her. His face looked fearful for a millisecond when he saw the furious cheerleader facing him, but it turned into a mask of mockery. “May we help you?” he asked, so sickly polite that Santana couldn’t hold herself back longer and she slapped him hard, so hard his head flew to the side, and scratch marks from her killer nails marred his cheek.
“You fuck; I swear to God if you touch him again, I will murder you! I will pull the razorblades out and get Puckerman, and I will KILL YOU!” She screeched at him, not even bothering with the other boy, who looked rightly terrified already. If her threat wasn’t enough to scare them, telling them she would get Puck involved would assure they would never give Blaine problems again. About ready to charge at him, she was stopped by a sticky hand on her arm. Furious, she turned to see Blaine.
“San, it’s okay, it’s alright,” he said hurriedly. The jocks made their getaway, thankful for the distraction, nearly tripping over each other to escape Santana’s wrath. “Don’t worry about them,” he mumbled with a small, sad smile. “Everyone does this to the unpopular kids here, remember?” He lifted his arms before dropping them, contorting his face at the sound it made.
“No, they don’t get to do this to you, I won’t let them!” Santana was still so mad; she couldn’t see how Blaine flinched at her shouting. “Why the fuck are you letting them do this to you Blaine, why are you so forgiving? One of these days, something so bad is going to happen, you won’t survive, and don’t tell me you’d just forgive them for that shit!”
“I just don’t want you getting in trouble for me, Santana,” he mumbled lowly, looking down, and if his face wasn’t covered in slush, Santana would have seen that it was burning in shame. “It’s my fault I can’t defend myself, I can’t do anything to stop them.”
“Are you kidding, Blaine? Don’t you dare blame yourself for what they did to you!” She wouldn’t hear any of this. Blaine was too sweet to have to deal with all the guilt and issues piled on each shoulder. Eventually it was going to cause him to crash down, hard. Her anger pushed through the rational part of her brain and the words were out before she could stop herself. “Stop being such a fucking wimp!”
Blaine looked at her, surprised, before pain littered his face and he was walking away before she could even try apologizing. “Wait- Blaine!” His head bowed even farther down, and she could have sworn she saw him sob before he turned the corner. She clenched her fists. Now it wasn’t directed towards Blaine’s tormentors, though, only at herself.
~
When Santana heard news about Blaine nearly beating those same two hockey players to death, she sped to his house, breaking the speed limit more than a couple times. From what she had heard, they threw another round of slushies at Blaine again, and he just snapped, finally letting them feel what they had been dishing out for so long.
She let herself in, knowing no one was home and running up to Blaine’s room. He was on his laptop, calmly scrolling down a word document.
“Homework,” he said in a monotone. Santana sat on his bed, trying to find the words to start off with.
“Blaine, what-“
“What happened?” Blaine asked for her, voice still a little dull and calm. “Remember those guys? The ones who threw the slushies last week? Well they decided to give me another little surprise today after lunch. So I decided to stop being a “fucking wimp-“ he made air quotes with his fingers, “and I kicked their asses.”
Santana was shocked; she had never heard Blaine talk that way, never so unhappy. He was always happy. Even the swears coming out of his mouth sounded foreign to her. “Come on Blaine, this isn’t you talking. This isn’t you. I know you, you would never-“
“Well I guess it’s who I am now,” Blaine snapped, finally turning to face her, and she gaped at the purple bruise covering his cheekbone. “It’s who I have to be.”
~
Santana felt horrible for doing this to her best friend. Maybe someday, Blaine will find the courage to be able to be himself once again. But for now, she would try her best to be there for him as much as she can. “It’s harder to quit than it looks, Blaine,” Blaine knew Santana was serious because of the usage of his first name, and he rested a hand on his knee, giving his attention to her. “You should just start telling everyone you quit so you don’t have to keep up this act anymore.”
Blaine frowned; gazing at the sun setting now, his eyes squinted. He shrugged. “I’ll do it if you quit.”
“That’s kind of unfair, don’t you think?” Santana asked him, knocking his leg with her own.
“I don’t think so,” Blaine smirked. “You don’t get to die as early this way. Is it a deal?” He held out a hand.
Santana considered him for a second before giving in. “I guess so.” She held out her hand as well. They linked their fingers together before tearing them apart, fist pumping and then punching each other on the opposite arm. Now that they had initiated the handshake, the deal was official. Blaine took his and Santana’s packages of smokes and tossed them into the garbage can before returning and seating himself again.
“So,” Santana started with a smirk. “Let’s talk about that new teacher.”