Blaine manages to get to the bathroom before he answers the phone. He runs the taps so his roommate won’t overhear the conversation. Jeff is kind, but he can be a bit nosy.

He doesn’t answer Kurt’s question, not at first. It’s a long story seems like a good way to evade this particular line of questioning, but Blaine knows Kurt has the time. He always has the time.

“Um...” The fading bruise on his left cheek stares back as he braces himself against the sink. “Dalton looks good on college applications, you know.”

“That it does,” Kurt answers back, his tone neutral. It’s as if he’s waiting for Blaine to open up, but at the same time not pushing him to do so. “I’m sure that’s why you transferred at the end of September.”

A knock sounds from the bathroom door. “You alright in there, man?” Jeff asks.

“Yeah,” Blaine says as he lowers the phone to his hip. “Something I ate, I guess.”

“Ah, the mysterious mysteries of Dalton life. There are marble statues in the hallways, yet the dining halls still serve mystery meat,” he chuckles, “Well, let me know if you need me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Blaine echoes.

“Are you talking to me while you’re pooping?” comes Kurt’s frantic reply when Blaine puts the phone back to his ear. “Because I’m not sure if we’re that friendly yet. Or if we’re ever going to be.”

Blaine shakes his head, remembers that he can’t hear him, and then mutters a quick - “No, Kurt. I’m not - ugh, for someone who can be such a snob, you can sure be crass sometimes.”

“Hey,” Kurt says. “Let’s play nice, Blaine. Not everyone’s out to get you.”

“Some people are,” he mutters back.

“Your cheek,” he begins. His words sound carefully selected, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “All you said was that it wasn’t dodgeball.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Kurt says softly.

Blaine lowers himself to the ground and draws his knees to his chest. He focuses on the sound of running water and Kurt’s breathing. He can tell Kurt this. Kurt won’t judge. “At my old school, there was this dance last month. Sadie Hawkins. I know the girls are supposed to ask the guys, but that’s the thing. I didn’t want any of the girls to ask me.”

The story isn’t rehearsed, because he’s only ever told it in length to Cooper. His parents got the cliffs notes, and Wes Montgomery got a mumbled ‘it’s a long story.’

“I asked my friend Josh. It wasn’t even a date or anything, we were just friends.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t think he’s my friend anymore, though. I don’t really blame him.”

“What happened, Blaine?”

“Afterwards, we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, and these three guys, they-” He closes his eyes with the sole intention of blocking out the flashes of letterman jackets and baseball bats. “They beat the living crap out of us.”

Kurt gasps from the other end of the line.

He always has words. Insults, running commentary, the lyric of the song he woke up to that morning. Kurt always has words, and Blaine adores that about him. He’s content to let Kurt fill the silences with anecdotes from his day. Blaine loves to listen.

But Kurt has no words this time, and that makes Blaine nervous.

“Oh, Blaine...”

“It’s no big deal,” he says automatically. He doesn’t remember making the conscious decision to say the words, but they’re out. “I’m at Dalton now, and it’s safe. Josh’s family moved him out of state. It’s in the past.”

“What happened to the guys who did that to you?” Kurt’s voice has an uncharacteristic waver to it.

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the familiar pinprick of incoming tears.

“Boys will be boys.”

-

They don’t talk about it anymore after that. Kurt’s voice is softer around him, he doesn’t give Blaine a hard time for his cheesy taste in music or his crazy hair. (These days, his hair is tamed by a Kurt Hummel Acceptable Amount of Gel, but it’s still a little crazy. The curls can only be tamed so much.) Blaine feels like he should be relieved, but he isn’t.

He knows this particular brand of kindness all too well.

It’s pity.

“Wanna go see a movie this weekend?” Kurt asks as walk through Dalton’s main courtyard. It’s getting chilly out. Fall is fading into winter, and they’ll be bundled up in scarves and sporting pink noses before they know it. “My treat. You can even pick!”

“Something with zombies. And vampires,” Blaine says, testing the waters and sidestepping to nudge Kurt’s shoulder. “Vampires and zombies who love each other.”

Kurt scrunches his nose.

“I was kidding,” Blaine clarifies.

“We could, if you wanted...”

“No.”

Kurt stops, and Blaine is tempted to keep walking.

But he stops too, right in front of Kurt. He enjoys having a bit of height on him, for once.

At times, Blaine feels like he hasn’t grown into his body yet. Shooting up from 5’3 to 5’8 in the span of a year will do that to a person. Kurt may be older, but Blaine at least has this.

Blaine narrows his eyes and looks down at Kurt. “Stop feeling bad for me. It’s not helping.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you anymore,” Kurt admits helplessly.

“The same way you did before. Be my friend.”

Kurt holds out his hand. “Like when I make fun of your hair?”

“And tell me when I sound flat,” Blaine adds as he takes the offered hand. They continue their leisurely pace around the courtyard.

Blaine feels a little warmer.

“We can’t all be me,” Kurt chuckles.

He gives Kurt’s hand a small squeeze. “The world would implode.”

“How disastrous.”

-

Wes takes Blaine to all of the NYADA events.

Their little arrangement started when he was assigned Blaine’s student guide after his transfer. This was back when Blaine made sure conversing with him could be compared to pulling teeth. He felt safer that way. Like he was in a little bubble and no one could touch him.

Eventually, Blaine made the mistake of lighting up when they passed a Warbler’s performance during their tour.

The tour devolved into a discussion about musical theatre over coffee. The subject of college came up. Wes had his sights set on Brown, but there had been a time when he had considered the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts. There was a group, that met from time to time in the next town over. “They’d love you, Blaine.”

He had grabbed his game boy from the top of the dresser on the way out, and his only plans involved wasting the evening making his way through the Elite Four.

“You really don’t have to keep taking me, you know,” Blaine says as he climbs into the passenger seat of Wes’s car.

“I thought you you were enjoying the mixers, Blaine,” Wes frowns. “Was I wrong to assume?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he holds up a hand to dismiss him.

“Then what is it?”

“Kurt said he’d take me next time,” Blaine tells him. “He doesn’t mind.”

Wes shakes his head. “Kurt lives in Lima, Blaine. It’s backtracking for him to come all the way out here to pick you up. It’s not gas efficient.” He starts the ignition, and glances over at Blaine. “Think of the planet.”

“Kurt wants to take me.”

“Are you two...” Wes waves his hands in a vague gesture. “Y’know...”

“That’s rich, Wes. I just came out a few days ago, and you’re already assuming all of my friends are potential boyfriends.”

“Do you hold hands with all of your friends in the courtyard?”

Blaine blushes. “He forgot his gloves.”

“It was sixty-five degrees.”

“We’re going to be late for the mixer,” Blaine grumbles.

“And to think I had to kick your stubborn behind out the door to get to first one,” Wes smiles. “My, how the times have changed.”