Chapter One:  Special Education

            Kurt wasn’t fitting in at Dalton Academy. He missed his friends at McKinley High, and though he tried to tell himself he was no longer safe there, it did little to console him. Kurt felt alone. In class, in the crowded hallways, even during Warbler meetings, he felt alone.

            No one understood him, except for Blaine. Blaine understood him. And Blaine was perfect. Perfect Blaine Anderson understood Kurt when no one else could. Blaine, who had endured his own bullies and transferred to Dalton for his safety. Their stories were so similar. And yet so different.

            Blaine had overcome his past; Kurt continued to fight his. Blaine was strong; Kurt was weak. But he could be strong. If only he could get to his dorm room before Blaine noticed he wasn’t at lunch and came looking for him. He was safe there. There he was strong.

            After what seemed like ages, Kurt made it to his dorm. He closed the door behind him, twisting the lock into place. He was grateful he’d been given a single room, his privacy always ensured. His secret was kept safe.

            Kurt dropped his messenger bag on the ground, rushing to the bathroom. There he found what he needed to make himself strong. Now that relief was at hand, Kurt let the dam holding back his emotions collapse. Wave upon wave of emotions hit him. Sadness. Despair. Shame. Worthlessness. Loneliness. Kurt let his tears fall freely as he reached for his razorblade, his strength.

            He shrugged out of his blazer, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Kurt brought the blade down to his wrist, parallel to his vein. The optimum place for blood flow. And God did Kurt need to see the blood flowing from his wound. He needed to watch the bad feelings leave him like a river painted red.

            As Kurt pressed the blade into his flesh, he sighed in relief. Blood bubbled up as he pushed the blade in again, needing to feel more. When he pulled the blade away he let it fall into the sink with a clatter. He slid down the wall, cradling his arm to his chest.

            How did he even get here? How did he get to this point? Of course, he remembered the first time he cut. That day was the sole cause of all his problems. The day Karofsky kissed him.

            Kurt went to his room without speaking to anyone. Confronting Karofsky had been a horrible idea. If anything, Kurt felt worse. Being shoved into lockers was one thing. Being sexually assaulted was another entirely.

            Kurt hadn’t wanted Karofsky to kiss him. He had always imagined this huge, special, romantic moment when he would have his first kiss and now that had been taken from him.

            Unable to calm his shaking hands, Kurt went through his nightly routine, even though it was only four o’clock. He hoped the normalcy would soothe his rattle nerves. He fell into bed, emotionally exhausted.

            But he didn’t find peace in sleep. Karofsky found him there too. Breathing heavily, Kurt bolted upright. Looking around, he was relieved to see he was in his bedroom and not the boys’ locker room at McKinley. He was alone. Karofsky wasn’t on top of him, about to rape him.

            Kurt climbed out of bed, going to his bathroom. He filled a glass with water, staring into his reflection in the mirror. All he wanted was to look in the mirror and like what he saw for once. He jumped when a car alarm went off outside, dropping the cup. Ignoring the broken glass, he looked out the window. Nothing. He was alone.

            He knelt to pick up the shards of glass. Kurt gasped when a shard accidentally sliced through the skin of his finger. But it wasn’t a gasp of surprise. It was a gasp of relief. He was finally able to forget about everything that was going wrong in his life. He didn’t feel weak anymore. He felt strong. Kurt brought the fragmented glass to his wrist, pressing down. He hissed at the sharp pain, letting his tears fall as the emotional anguish finally left him.

            Kurt was pulled out of his memory when he heard a knock on his door.

            “Kurt? Are you in there?” It was Blaine. He had obviously noticed Kurt’s absence in the cafeteria and come to look for him.

            “Just a second!” Kurt called. He opened his medicine cabinet and grabbed an ace bandage, the easiest way to clean up for the time being. He wrapped the bandage around his wrist as tight as possible without loss of blood circulation. He looked down at his shirt, thankful that he hadn’t gotten any blood on it. Kurt slipped his blazer back on before he exited the bathroom and opened his room door.

            Blaine stood in the doorway, clearly worried. “Why weren’t you at lunch?”

            “I’m sorry. I would’ve texted you but Mercedes called me in crisis mode,” Kurt lied. He hated lying to Blaine, but it was better than what would happen if he knew the truth.

            “It’s all right. I was just worried. Is Mercedes okay?” Blaine asked. He knew Mercedes meant a lot to Kurt and was one of the few people he felt he could count on.

            “Yeah, she’s fine. Mr. Schue skipped her over for another solo and she was upset.” Kurt answered, remembering Mercedes’s text message from earlier that day. He swung his messenger bag over his shoulder. “We should get to class. The bell will ring soon.”

            Blaine nodded in agreement, not sure if Kurt was telling him the truth or not. Nevertheless, he followed the taller boy down the hall.

K/B

            “Are you nervous?” Blaine asked as he led Kurt down the hall to the choir room.

            “A little,” Kurt admitted, gripping Pavarotti’s cage tighter in his hand.

            “You’ll be fine, I promise.” Blaine clapped Kurt on the shoulder before opening the door. He allowed Kurt to enter before following behind him.

            Kurt waited until Wes nodded, then he opened his mouth and began to sing. He felt the words flow out of him. “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” was a personal favorite of Kurt’s, so it wasn’t hard for him to pour his emotions into his performance. He felt his nerves leave him as he sang. He was in his element. This was his moment.

            And then it was over. The Warblers applauded. But he didn’t get the solo.

            “You shouldn’t have tried so hard. Next time pick something simpler. I know you’d get a solo then,” Blaine offered as a way of comfort.

            “I don’t know how to do anything simple.” Kurt tried to joke, wishing his dorm room wasn’t so far away. He needed to be alone.

            “Coming to a new school is never easy. But you’ll get used to it.” Blaine squeezed Kurt’s free hand as they reached the door to his dorm.

            Kurt felt his face flush. He looked down before muttering, “I should go call Rachel.”

            Kurt left Blaine without another word, not knowing what to say. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he’d confess his true feelings towards Blaine but there was no way the other boy felt the same. Kurt preferred to spare himself the humiliation and pain of rejection.

            Sighing, Kurt placed Pavarotti on his desk before pulling out his cell phone and dialing Rachel’s number. Rachel had taken the time to help him find a song for the audition. He owed it to her to tell her how it went.

            “Hello?” she answered.

            “Hi,” Kurt said unhappily.

            “You didn’t get the solo, did you?” Rachel asked, picking up on Kurt’s tone of voice.

            “No, I didn’t.” Kurt shook his head, even though Rachel couldn’t see him.

            “It’s their loss. You’re an amazing performer, Kurt.”

            “Thanks.” Kurt sighed heavily. “I’m learning so much about myself through this transfer.”

            “Like what?” Rachel asked.

            “Even though I felt like I wasn’t getting any time to shine in New Directions, I always knew I was appreciated. I miss everyone, all of our friends. I don’t feel like I have room to be myself here. I can’t express my individuality.” Kurt fell back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.

            “Is it the blazer?” Rachel asked.

            Kurt laughed. “Not completely.”

            “Things will get better. I promise. I’ll see you at sectionals.”

            “See you.” Kurt hung up.

K/B

            Kurt’s searched for Rachel and Mercedes in the crowded auditorium. He wasn’t happy singing back-up to Blaine with the rest of the Warblers. He hoped that didn’t show through. He really wanted to win.

            And they did win. But so did the New Directions. It was a tie, which meant both groups were going to Regionals.

            “Why don’t you look happy?” Blaine plopped down next to Kurt in the backseat of the bus.

            “I am happy,” Kurt lied, trying to smile. It came out as more of a grimace.

            Blaine laughed. “You’re a horrible liar.”

            If only you knew, Kurt thought to himself.

            “I miss my friends,” Kurt admitted. He could disclose this safely.

            “Aren’t I your friend?” Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

            “You know what I mean,” Kurt replied with a sigh.

            “I do. And you’ll make friends at Dalton. I promise. You just have to be willing to let people in.” Blaine squeezed his hand.

            Blaine’s hand was warm in Kurt’s. He tried not to blush, knowing it was no use. He blushed whenever Blaine touched him, even if it was just an innocent brush of the fingertips.

            “I’ll try,” Kurt answered.

            Truthfully, Kurt didn’t know if he could let anyone in. He didn’t feel like he could trust anyone outside of his family, Blaine, and Mercedes. He had admitted some of his feelings to Rachel the other day, but he was confident that even if she told someone else no one would care how he felt.

            When the bus pulled up to Dalton, the boys filed out. Kurt was the last one off the bus. He waited until everyone was on their way to the celebratory party in the choir room before he slipped off to his dorm room.

            Seeing his old friends had been painful. All Kurt wanted to do was rid himself of that pain in the only way he knew how. He entered his room, smiling at the silence that greeted him. Then he remembered his room shouldn’t be quiet. He walked over to his canary, frowning when he saw a single feather fall onto the bottom of the cage. A handful of feathers already littered the cage floor.

            Kurt pulled his phone out, texting Blaine. He got on his knees and peered into the cage. A few seconds later, Blaine knocked once on the door before opening it.

            “I got your text. What’s wrong?” Blaine asked, frowning when he saw Kurt kneeling on the ground next to Pavarotti’s cage.

            “I think Pavarotti’s dying,” Kurt answered softly.

            Blaine stepped closer, examining the bird. He let out a chuckle, causing Kurt to frown.

            “I hardly think my canary dying is a laughing matter,” Kurt said angrily.

            “Pavarotti isn’t dying, Kurt. He’s molting.” Blaine laughed again.

            “Molting?”

            “Birds shed their feathers annually. He’ll be fine,” Blaine assured him. “Come on, let’s go celebrate winning sectionals.”

            Kurt glanced at his bathroom, wanting a moment alone with his blade. But he knew Blaine wouldn’t leave him alone, even if he refused to go to the party. Sighing inwardly, Kurt agreed. As Blaine walked Kurt down the hall, he decided he would do whatever it took to make himself someone Blaine would want to be with. He would make himself perfect, perfect enough for Blaine.