"Blaine?" Cooper asked, his voice scratchy over the phone.  "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Coop," Blaine sighed, leaning back against the concrete wall.  "I'll be home by five."

"Alright, I'm trusting you Blaine," Cooper warned. 

Blaine smiled. "I know. Bye, Coop."

"Bye, bud."

Blaine hit 'end', and slid the phone into his pocket, leaning back and looking up at the clear, blue sky.

"Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo?" he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"I'M OVER HERE!" a voice yelled. Blaine shot up and turned around, spotting the body that came with the voice. "COME AND GET ME SON OF A BITCH!"

The boy was wearing a leather jacket and tight pants, and he was running, jumping over fences, and laughing.

Blaine's first thought was that this boy must be insane.

Then he spotted the other boy calling and chasing after him.

"Come on, bro," the taller boy shouted, tripping over cans and boxes while he ran. "Your dad's sick. Just come on home."

The smaller boy threw his head back and laughed. Then he made an obscene gesture and skipped off. The big guy looked strong, but he was clumsy, and the other boy was lilthe quick.

"FINE! But don't come home when you run out of money, bro!" the big guy said, waving uselessly at him.  Then he turned around, muttering nonsense to himself, and walked away.

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed together, and he turned back, away from the unusual scene that has just unfolded itself in front of him.

He shook his head and stood up, dusting the dirt off of his pants before glancing behind him once more, to see the boy lying in a small patch of dying grass, lighting a cigarette and watching the clouds.

A sudden idea passed through Blaine's head then. He imagined walking up to the boy and taking his cigarette, then grinding it underneath his shoe. But Blaine wasn't that bold. And he was even smaller than that guy. He might try to kick his ass.

Blaine didn't even notice he was staring until he heard a voice.

"Take a picture, dick-head, it'll last longer!" the boy shouted out, his voice partially muffled by the cigarette. Blaine's eyes widened and he scampered away, listening to the boy's musical laughter fill the space behind him.

* * * * *

Blaine slammed the door behind him and sunk to the floor.

"BLAINE? IS THAT YOU?" he heard Cooper shout from the kitchen.

"Yeah!" he yelled back, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his vest.

Cooper came out the kitchen and leaned against the doorway, watching Blaine.

"I thought you were coming home at five? It's only three," he said, his head cocked to the side.

"Yeah. I finished early."

Blaine stood up and put his glasses back on before slipping past Cooper and climbing the tall stairs to his room. Their house was big, since their father was loaded, but sometimes it felt almost, confining. This giant house with two young men living in it, stuck until they found a way out.

Blaine didn't sleep that night.

* * * * *

Weeks passed, and Blaine's days were the same, wake up, go to school, come home. But the boy from the lot stayed in the back of his brain. His laugh echoed through his bedroom walls, stealing sleep from him.  His taunts followed Blaine at school, making his friends worry about him.

It was four weeks later, on a Friday, when the boy showed up again.

"Come on, Blaine. Everyone knows that the original cast of Hairspray is better than the modern one," Rachel said, her arm wrapped around Blaine's as they walked the hallways of McKinley, oblivious to the sneers people gave them.

Or, well, Rachel was oblivious. Blaine noticed everything.

"BLAINE! RACHEL! WAIT UP!" came the cry of Quinn Fabray from behind them. Quinn used to be the top of the social food chain, but since getting impregnated with the biggest badboy in school two years ago, no one even looked her way, except to gossip of course.

"What is it Quinn? We are busy," Rachel said, turning to face the tall blonde, tapping her foot.

"Have you seen the new kid?" Quinn asked, her eyes twinkling and her face flushed from running.

"No," Rachel huffed, crossing her arms. "Why?"

"WHY? He's tall, dangerous, gorgeous, and very, very gay," Quinn grinned at Blaine.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not interested, Quinn."

"Interested in whom?" a voice from behind him asked. Blaine turned and was suddenly face to face... or well, face to neck, with a boy.

The boy from the lot.