"They don't seem to be very popular."

Blaine had to agree with David on that. Those New Directions kids looked like a group that was sort of randomly put together – a guy in a wheelchair, a guy who actually looked rather threatening, a couple of cheerleaders… Blaine wondered how they had all ended up in the same glee club.

"Maybe they're just not that good," Wes suggested, sounding hopeful. "I mean, if they were good, more people should like them, right?"

"Then why wouldn't they just disband the club?" Blaine questioned, staring at the computer screen in doubt. "There must be a reason why they still exist."

"You think they're good?" Wes asked doubtfully.

"We haven't heard any of them sing yet," Blaine reminded him, and David nodded.

"That's true. Maybe they stick together because it's fun. Because they want to. Because they can actually sing."

"Oh well," Wes sighed, "one out of two isn't that bad, right? At least we won't have to fear for the Hipsters."

That afternoon, the Warblers had heard who their competition for Sectionals was going to be – a group of elderly people called the Hipsters, and a group from some public school called New Directions. They had quickly concluded that they should be able to beat the Hipsters, but they weren't so sure about New Directions yet.

They had started searching the internet, and had ended up on a blog site from some creepy dude who, apparently, went to school the New Directions kids also attended. Creepy or not, though, he had posted a video of the glee club on his blog only a few months ago. Right after the summer holidays.

Various club members were interviewed, and from what Blaine had witnessed, they must be somewhere at the bottom of the food chain in their school.

"Anyway," Wes said after another moment of staring at the website, "I think we need to go. Lacrosse practice."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't understand how you can play that."

David snorted. "Says the guy who has trophies in fencing?"

With a huff, Blaine turned his back to his friends; not that it mattered much, as they were leaving anyway. Deciding against watching the video about the Glee club again (Wes and David would probably decide to pick it apart tomorrow during Warblers rehearsal), Blaine almost exited the page.

He hesitated. Maybe he should check if there were any Glee performances on this site? He clicked back to the first page and scanned it. No, this seemed like just another blog run by just another annoying, attention-seeking person who thought it would be cool to post about the latest gossip in the school.

Then a thought hit Blaine. If the Glee club was really that unpopular, why did that guy make a video of them to post? Yes, maybe people would laugh at them, but wouldn't it have been more fruitful for this guy's image if he'd done a report on what the cheerleaders or the football players had done over the summer?

Either way, there appeared to be no new posts about New Directions' performances, and Blaine was about to get off of the site when the top new post caught his eye. This month's ten best locker slams. Blaine knew he shouldn't – stuff like this could be triggering for him – but somehow, even though he feared the worst, he clicked the post anyway. It was a video, edited to show ten consecutive locker slams, if Blaine understood correctly. By the end of it, he didn't move for almost a minute. That was horrible, and disgusting, and so, so wrong. How could people do this to others? And why didn't anyone do anything about it? The worst part, Blaine thought, was the fact that, in nine out of those ten fragments, the same boy was pushed into lockers over and over again. Incidentally, it was also the same boy who'd stood up to the blogger at the end of the Glee summer video and had gotten a drink thrown at him.

Blaine didn't know the boy at all, but his heart went out to him.

Somehow, this prompted him to watch some more videos on the site, including apparent classics like The ten best dumpster tosses of sophomore year, which also heavily featured the very same boy again (in eight of the ten videos this time), and Gleeks getting slushied. After watching a particularly horrible video about a group of jocks throwing pee balloons at, again, the boy from the end of the Glee club video – apparently, that one had been filmed by one of the jocks instead of the owner of the blog, though – Blaine had had enough. Pointedly keeping his eyes away from any other headline that might catch his eye, he finally managed to get away from the website.

Even when he finally managed to compose himself, he was still seething with rage. Most of his own bullying had been verbal, emotional. The bullies had only resorted to physical violence when they thought Blaine had crossed a certain line, like the time he had gone to that Sadie Hawkins dance with another boy. Still, it had been traumatising enough, and Blaine had had angry fits for weeks, even after his parents had decided to send him to Dalton. Apparently, seeing all these videos made those feelings of anger and powerlessness come back instantly.

He wanted to do something. He felt like he owed it to this boy he didn't even know to do something; after all, from what he saw in those videos, nobody at that school ever did anything. But what could he do? He couldn't very well e-mail the McKinley school board (or maybe the police) a link to some of the worst videos on here, could he?

Eventually, he reached a decision on what to do. The boy might not necessarily appreciate it, but Blaine could always try, right?

o-o-o-o-o

Blaine ended up having to wait until the weekend to execute his plan. In the meantime, David and Wes had shown the rest of the Warblers the New Directions video they'd initially found (thankfully, without looking at any other videos; Blaine wasn't sure if he could handle that), and Thad and Nick, who'd proven to have a little more common sense, had found some links to last year's Sectionals and Regionals competitions on the site of the Ohio Show Choir Board.

With a little more of an idea of what to expect from the other group, the council set to work to figure out the perfect performance for Sectionals. Blaine, on the other hand, went back to the blogging site somewhat involuntarily, in order to find out the bullied boy's name. This proved to be a rather easy task, considering the entire school appeared to pride itself in the fact that they all hated one Kurt Hummel, Glee club member and the school gay kid.

After this, Blaine searched for an address of some sort, but nothing ever came up. Something that did keep popping up, however, was the address of a car shop in Lima that was owned by someone also called Hummel.

Deciding to just take the chance and hoping that it was, indeed, the boy's father who owned the garage, Blaine dressed in casual clothes that Saturday (something rather unusual, as most Dalton boys normally spent their weekends either in pyjamas or their uniforms) and drove to Lima. He hoped that his assumptions were correct; if they weren't, he'd have driven for three hours for absolutely nothing.

It had occurred to him, of course, to simply try to send the boy a message on Facebook, but besides the fact that that was rather impersonal, he might have some more trouble convincing this boy that he meant well if they weren't face to face. Maybe the boy would think he was just trying to spy on the competition or that it was some cruel joke from his bullies.

After driving for a little over an hour and a half, Blaine pulled up in front of a garage that, according to the sign, was called Hummel Tires and Lube. This had to be it. It suddenly hit Blaine that the boy's father probably didn't know – or worse, didn't care – about the bullying. What would he have to say about someone visiting his son after learning about the bullying?

Well, it was too late for that now. Blaine exited the car and squared his shoulders. He was going to do this. As he approached the counter, he glanced around. No signs of teenagers here.

The man standing at the counter looked him up and down before asking, "What can I help you with, kid?"

Blaine was silent for a second, trying to calm his nerves. "Are you Mr Hummel?" When the man nodded, he asked, "Do you have a son named Kurt?"

"Yeah." The man frowned at him, looking slightly suspicious. "Why?"

"I was wondering if I could… talk with him," Blaine replied.

The man frowned slightly. "Are you one of his friends from school?" he asked. Before Blaine could respond, he added, "Why didn't you just go to our house?"

"I didn't have the address," Blaine said carefully.

The man nodded. "He should be here soon to help out for a bit. You can talk to him in the office when he arrives."

Ten minutes later, Kurt arrived, and Blaine watched carefully as he approached his father. He scolded himself for even thinking about the fact that the boy looked absolutely breath-taking; that was something that hadn't always been visible on the videos posted online, which were often taken at such an angle that Kurt's face was not fully visible, only recognisable.

He tuned in on the conversation right when Mr Hummel said, "Blaine here wanted to talk to you. You can use the office, if you want to. You can start after that."

Kurt shot him a suspicious glance, but didn't say anything yet. As he led the way towards what Blaine assumed was the office, Kurt suddenly stopped walking.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Why are you here?"

Blaine held out his hand. "I'm Blaine Anderson. And I… just wanted to talk you." He shrugged. "I kind of want to help you, I guess."

"Help me?" Kurt asked, sounding a little puzzled. "With what?" He walked a few more steps before pushing a door open.

Both boys sat down in the small office before Blaine spoke. "With your bullying situation. I know I can't exactly… do a whole lot about it, but I figured it'd be good for you if you had someone to talk to about it." He shifted in his seat. "I'm sorry. I'm probably overstepping here, right? Sometimes I really am too impulsive for my own good."

"How do you even know about my… bullying situation?" Kurt asked. "I don't even know you. Do you even go to McKinley?"

Blaine smiled uneasily. "Yeah, that's kind of a funny story. I go to Dalton." When this didn't seem to be much of a clue, he added, "I'm in the Warblers."

"What does that have to do with my bullying?" Kurt asked. "You being a rival show choir, I mean."

"Some of us decided to do a little research," Blaine responded cautiously. "We ended up watching some video about your big gay summers, or something."

"Well, that's not something I expected to hear," Kurt quipped, but even to Blaine, who'd only just met the boy, something seemed off.

"There were all kinds of other videos there as well," he continued. "About… locker slams, dumpster tosses… pee balloons?"

Kurt, who was already rather pale, looked white as a sheet now. "That's all on his blog?"

"No one deserves that kind of treatment, Kurt," Blaine said quietly.

Kurt pulled a face, staring at the floor for a moment before looking back up. "So you saw those videos, and instead of adding your own rude comments, you decided to drive for close to two hours to try to give a guy you don't know some comfort?"

Now it was Blaine's turn to stare at his knees. "I've been there," he said quietly. "Nobody noticed. I couldn't stand continuing on with my life, pretending not to notice that the people at your school treat you like crap. You don't deserve that."

Kurt smiled sadly. "You're the first to think so," he replied. "Well," he added, glancing at the door, "besides my dad, but I can't tell him about any of this. It's like… everyone at school knows it happens, considering half those things happen in hallways full of people. They all just act like they don't and can't do anything about it."

Blaine nodded in agreement. "That was exactly how it was at my previous school. Sure, some of the teachers seemed sympathetic enough, but nobody really cared. It was like, hey, if you're gay, your life's just going to be miserable."

They sat in silence for a moment before Kurt blurted out, "Though I think what's even worse than that is that not even my friends seem to care or notice." He glanced at Blaine hesitantly. "They get slushies too, and the occasional slur, and that sucks for them, but they're always so caught up in their own drama that they don't notice anything that's going on around them, and that includes the fact that my bullying is getting worse every day nowadays." He sighed. "Sorry, I – "

'That's what I came here for, didn't I?" Blaine asked rhetorically.

Kurt nodded, but then narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you're being honest, though? You seem genuine enough, but you could just be a great actor…"

Blaine was stomped for a moment. He hadn't exactly come up with a solution for that. "I don't know," he confessed. "I guess I could call my friends to prove that, at least, they didn't put me up to this? It's not like I'm out to hear about your club, I merely thought maybe you could use someone to talk to."

"You said that," Kurt said, nodding. "It just… seems kind of fishy. I don't know. Why don't you tell me something more about yourself, what happened to you?"

Blaine sat unmovingly for a few seconds. His parents had eventually gotten to hear the full story, and Blaine suspected that they might've told a couple of other family members as well. At Dalton, none of his friends had ever asked about it, but they did know he'd been bullied. They probably thought that he didn't want to talk about it. Which was true – he really did not want to talk about this. However, Kurt did have a point. If Blaine wanted Kurt to trust him, shouldn't he tell the other boy what had happened to him, too?

So he talked; in vague terms, yes, and he knew that Kurt probably realised that as well, but he talked. About his coming out at age thirteen, and the subsequent bullying. About the notes, the slurs, the occasional shoves, and finally, about the dance. And then, about coming to Dalton. About finally being accepted for who he was.

After that, it was Kurt's turn, and the other boy reluctantly talked about all the bullying, about the awful things the jocks tended to do to him and the silent acceptance of the rest of the school of this behaviour; about their disinterest in his well-being. About the acceptance he had found – or at least, thought he'd found – in New Directions.

"They basically told me the only way I could make myself useful was by spying on you guys," he finished with a self-deprecating smile. "I was… going to do that on Monday, but I suppose that attempt will now fail simply because you'd probably recognise me."

"Yeah, I guess so," Blaine muttered, his mind working overtime. "Hey, Kurt? Maybe you should come to Dalton on Monday."

Kurt stared at him for a moment, seeming caught off guard. "Why? Are you actually inviting me to spy on you?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not to spy on us… I thought perhaps it might do you good to see what Dalton's like. You could just stick with me for a day, sit in on classes, and the like."

"You want me to check out Dalton," Kurt repeated. "Why?" He glanced at the door again. "I doubt my dad could afford sending me there, if that's where you're going with this."

"There are scholarships available," Blaine replied. "You could apply for one of those, if you're smart or athletic or… I don't know. I could look into that for you, if you want."

"What am I going to tell my dad?" Kurt asked.

"The truth?" Blaine suggested. "Look, Kurt. I don't know what they've told you, but the bullying is not your fault."

"I know," Kurt responded.

"Kurt?" The door opened and Kurt's father came in. "Are you almost done here? I could use an extra pair of hands."

"I'll be right there, dad," Kurt replied. When his father was gone, he turned back to Blaine. "Sorry. You probably drove for miles to get here."

"It's fine, Kurt," Blaine said. "Should I give you my number, in case you want to talk, or to tell me what you've decided to do on Monday?"

"That would be great," Kurt said. "I'll give you mine too, just in case."

"I'll text you the details about Monday, if you decide to come," Blaine told him. "It's about an hour and a half drive, so you'd have to get up pretty early. But, a little birdie told me there's going to be a Warblers performance as well, so…"

"You can just bring people in who want to check out the school?" Kurt asked.

"I'll talk to the principal before classes," Blaine promised. "But it shouldn't be too much of a problem. You should just clear it up with your school. And your dad, of course."

"I doubt anyone will miss me if I'm not there," Kurt muttered. "I guess I will see you on Monday, then."

As Blaine walked out, he didn't see Kurt's father anymore. Perhaps, that was for the best; their talk earlier had been all kinds of awkward for him. How were you supposed to explain to someone that you needed to see their son because of some videos on the internet said son obviously didn't want them to know about?

o-o-o-o-o

Kurt had texted Blaine on Saturday night that he was definitely coming next Monday, so Blaine made sure to discuss this with the headmaster first thing Monday morning. His friends didn't know Kurt was going to be at Dalton that day, and Blaine reckoned Wes might not be all too happy about Blaine's invitation.

Blaine was currently waiting for Kurt at the parking lot, hoping that the other boy had been able to find the school well enough. That seemed to be the case, as Kurt arrived almost ten minutes before first period started.

As he exited his car, Kurt told Blaine, who'd approached him by now, "Thanks for doing this, by the way. I don't know if I'd thanked you yet, but – thanks. It means a lot."

"It's okay," Blaine said, shrugging. "Was your dad okay with you skipping school, though?"

Kurt sighed. "I didn't tell him. He'll probably get a call from McKinley regarding my absence some time today. Though, it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't. I'll tell him when I get home."

"You mean the truth?" Blaine asked.

"Well, I was hoping to get some more insight in what scholarships might be available if I were to transfer here," Kurt confessed. "If it would be possible, I definitely think transferring would be the best option, even if I'm letting the bullies win if I do…"

"I've always regretted that," Blaine blurted out before he realised it. "Then again, are you really letting them win if you transfer to a school that's academically much more challenging, offers you much better perspectives for your future and is also much safer for you?"

Kurt eyed him critically. "How many people have told you that?"

"Quite a few," Blaine confessed. "I guess it is true, though."

"It probably is," Kurt agreed. "So, what's your first class?"

o-o-o-o-o

When it was time for lunch, Blaine figured that most Warblers probably already knew about Kurt's presence at the school. They'd had class with a few of them, after all, and news travelled pretty quickly within the group. And even if they hadn't noticed Kurt at first, two of the teachers actually asked him some questions during class.

"So, what do you think so far?" Blaine asked as they walked towards the cafeteria. They hadn't managed to talk a whole lot in between classes.

Kurt's eyes were still a little wider than before he'd entered the first class. "It's so different from McKinley," he replied as if in a daze. "The classes are so much harder, which is actually a really good thing, considering that, at McKinley, they are incredibly boring and easy. And – whenever someone here bumps into anyone else, they immediately apologise!"

Blaine chuckled. "Yeah, I was amazed at that as well at first."

"When's your performance, though?" Kurt asked. "I was thinking maybe I could pick up some information – "

"That's now," Blaine interrupted him, realising that all of a sudden. "Sorry," he added. "I mean – the performance is – well, in a few minutes. Do you think we could pick up the information after classes?"

"Uh – yeah, sure." Kurt nodded.

"Come on, then." Without thinking, Blaine grabbed his hand – mostly to avoid losing Kurt in the mass of boys streaming down the hallway on their way to the senior commons. He and Kurt ran down a different corridor, that was, Blaine admitted, not exactly the shortest route, but certainly a calmer one.

When they entered the room, Kurt looked around in amazement. "They're all here for the performance?" he asked. "I hadn't realised the Warblers were that popular…"

"The Warblers are like rock stars," Blaine replied, unable to prevent a happy smirk from forming on his face.

Kurt looked impressed. "I also really stick out here," he said, looking down at his outfit somewhat disdainfully. "It wasn't as bad in class, but there are a lot more people here…"

"Well, then you'll just have to transfer here, right?" Blaine asked. "You'll get your own jacket in no time."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "You mean that blazer? It's horrendously unflattering, Blaine."

Blaine rolled his eyes playfully – that wasn't flirting, right? God, he shouldn't be thinking about flirting with Kurt, they hardly knew each other – and answered, "Kurt, just admit it. You love the blazer."

"Sure, Blaine," Kurt replied, sarcastic tone half hidden. "Of course. Whatever you say."

Blaine smiled, knowing fully well that Kurt was lying to his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, dropping his bag and placing it next to Kurt's before giving the other boy a small smile and walking over towards where the rest of the Warblers were already standing.

Jeff, who'd seen Kurt during their History class, stood with his lips clamped firmly together, and Nick, who (of course) was standing next to Jeff, also looked entirely too amused. Wes all but glared at Blaine, who already knew that he'd be having a serious conversation with the head council member when this was over.

When they started the Teenage Dream performance, the other students reacted much like they always did; with a great deal of enthusiasm and dancing along. Kurt, in the meantime, looked even more surprised than he had upon walking in.

As much as it puzzled Blaine, he kept sneaking glances at Kurt as the performance went on. He was glad to see that the other boy seemed to get into the performance as well and smiled back at him every time Blaine happened to look his way. It gave Blaine a weird kind of energy, he noticed.

The room exploded when they were done, and Blaine happily accepted all the half-hugs and congratulatory shouts and compliments from everyone around him. When most other guys had left to head to lunch, Blaine walked over to Kurt.

"What did you think?" he asked, eager to hear what his new… friend? Acquaintance? Well, it didn't really matter. He just wanted to hear what Kurt thought, even though he had a pretty good idea already, from what he'd seen during the performance.

"You were amazing!" Kurt exclaimed. "I – you were really good! And you never told me you're actually the lead singer!" He smiled. "Really, it was great."

"Good enough to beat New Directions, then?" Both Kurt and Blaine looked around to see the three council members standing there; while David and Thad mostly seemed curious, Wes did not appear to like the current situation very much.

Kurt just blinked at him before looking at Blaine questioningly. "I invited him here, Wes," Blaine told him. "He's not here to spy."

"I didn't know you knew each other," David said as Wes directed them to two of the couches that had been pushed aside for the performance.

"We met this weekend," Kurt replied helpfully.

"This weekend?" Clearly, Wes now really thought the worst. "You're not exactly helping your case here."

"It was my fault," Blaine quickly intervened. "After watching a few more videos on that site, I realised that – " Oh. This wasn't really his story to tell. He glanced at Kurt.

"I get bullied at McKinley," Kurt muttered.

Wes sighed heavily. "So Blaine took it upon himself to find you and try to help you."

"Yes," Blaine said proudly, although he was aware of the fact that Wes wasn't exactly complimenting him. "I did. Nobody at McKinley helps, so… And then I figured that perhaps Dalton might be good for him."

"You're trying to get one of the members of our competition to transfer here weeks before Sectionals?" Thad sounded a little disbelieving.

"They wouldn't really miss me, though," Kurt muttered, taking his phone out of his bag. He frowned at the screen. "Though they wouldn't have enough members if I were to come here."

Noticing from the corner of his eye that it looked like none of Kurt's friends had noticed his absence – there seemed to be no messages or missed calls – Blaine said, "You didn't see those videos, guys. It's awful."

Wes rubbed his temples. When he spoke, he sounded exasperated. "Are you going to bring every tortured gay kid to Dalton now?"

"Of course not!" Blaine exclaimed. "I just thought that maybe I could help."

"I would be here anyway right now," Kurt interrupted. "If Blaine hadn't come by this weekend, I'd still have come, since the only thing my teammates seem to think I'm good for is spying on the competition. At least I'm not here to spy now. Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

"Let's go get some lunch," Blaine decided, standing up. When Kurt didn't immediately react, Blaine sent him a pointed look before glancing at the council members. "I'll talk to you guys later, I guess."

Once they were out of the door, Kurt groaned. "I only made it worse, didn't I?"

Blaine smiled slightly. "It's not often that someone talks back at Wes where the Warblers are concerned."

Whereas he'd been planning to have lunch with the other Warblers like he usually did, Blaine figured that that might not be the best idea now. After the confrontation with the council, he didn't want other people to start asking those kinds of questions about Kurt too. So it was just the two of them at a table, and for the first time since they'd met – two days ago, but still – they talked about things that didn't somehow have to do with getting bullied, and it was pretty refreshing.

The rest of the day flew by, and after they'd gone to get some information about enrolling at Dalton and possible scholarships, Kurt smiled brightly at Blaine. "Thanks for making me come here," he said sincerely. "Though it'll probably be even harder now to get through the day at McKinley again tomorrow, now that I know what it can be like." When Blaine opened his mouth to reply, Kurt quickly added, "I know. I'll talk to my dad about it." He patted his bag, where the pamphlets were stored away safely. "Who knows, I might be back, but as a student this time."

Blaine smiled. "That's good to hear. Take care, Kurt."

"I will," Kurt promised, shaking his head slightly. "So… I'll probably see you around?"

"If you don't transfer, we'll always see each other again at Sectionals," Blaine reminded him. A little less sure, he added, "We can also keep texting, if that's okay with you?"

"Yes, definitely," Kurt said. "I should really go now, though. My dad texted me an hour ago to ask why I wasn't at school." He took a deep breath. "Time to face the music, I suppose."

"Good luck," Blaine told him. "I doubt you'll need it, but…"

"Thanks," Kurt said. "I'll let you know how it went."

As Blaine watched Kurt's car disappear out of sight, he was suddenly struck with a strange feeling of hope that Kurt would, in fact, come to Dalton. Deciding that he definitely wasn't developing any kind of feelings for the other boy, he walked back inside. He still had a lot of explaining to do, after all. Like Kurt had said – it was time to face the music.