It was fifth period, English, for Kurt Hummel. He sat at the back of the room in-between his best friends, Mercedes and Tina. The two girls idly flipped through the latest vogue issues, making comments over a particularly beautiful model, or a hideous new collection. Kurt doodled in one of his extra spirals absently. He curved the pencil this way and curled it around that way, not entirely paying attention.

After thoroughly filling yet another page with flowing lines, he sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. He glanced toward the front of the small temp building and found his teacher, Mrs. Hemp, engrossed in a romance novel. By the expression on her face, he was sure the room could go up in flames and she wouldn't even notice. Kurt turned his eyes to the clock.

He still had twenty-nine minutes in that class. The boredom was sure to completely devour him by then. Kurt slumped forward and held his face in his hands as he glared at the chalkboard in front of him.

"Oh!" Tina suddenly dropped the magazine she was holding and jumped in her chair.

Mercedes and Kurt gave her a questioning look as she motioned for Kurt's spiral. He quickly flipped it to a clean page and slid it toward her. She grabbed it off the table and brought it to her knees, writing rapidly. Kurt attempted to read what she was writing, but she kept swatting him away and muttering something about patience.

A few seconds later she smiled widely and tossed the notebook on the table in front of the other two. Kurt and Mercedes anxiously positioned it so that they could both see it properly.

I almost forgot to tell you guys! There's this new guy I saw walking into the principals office this morning. He is absolutely GORGEOUS. I heard that he was a transfer from that Dalton reform school!! He starts classes tomorrow!!!

Kurt pushed the notebook back to the two and continued staring at the chalkboard. Great. Some other straight guy that he could never have. Whoop dee doo. The girls ignored his sour attitude and began whispering animatedly about the mysterious, gorgeous new guy.

Maybe he was sour. Not without good reason, though. Being the only out gay kid in a school tends to do that to a person. Kurt just wished he could have one person like him, just one, to talk to and get through the hell that is high school together. It didn't even have to be a relationship. He just needed someone who could relate. Someone who could really understand what it felt like to be ridiculed and abused for something he couldn't even help.

Kurt tried his best to tune them out and survive the last twenty two minutes of fifth period english.

---

Class carried on as slow as possible and Kurt swore that he would brutally murder the first person to tick him off. When the bell finally signaled for lunch he bolted into the doors of the high school and straight to his locker. The drizzling rain and terrible humidity was doing horrible things to his hair.

He ripped open his locker and quickly examined the damage in a small mirror. Not too terrible. Although the hair spray had become obsolete and it was sticking up in a few places, he'd had worse. Kurt kept his eyes trained on the mirror as he reapplied the hair spray while simultaneously brushing down the fly aways. There. Perfect.

"Don't worry, you look beautiful."

Kurt turned ready to give his best bitch remark, but stopped dead. A hand clamped over his shoulder and gave a tight squeeze. The owner of the hand smirked and winked a beautiful hazel eye.

So this was the gorgeous new boy.

Kurt wanted to say something, but he couldn't form any words. It didn't matter, though, an uptight looking white haired woman cleared her throat and the beautiful hazel eyed boy continued walking down the hall.

Thinking back at it, Kurt didn't know how long he stood frozen at that spot. He couldn't tell you what the boy even looked like. All he could remember were those bright green and honey eyes and that voice.

"Don't worry, you look beautiful."

Usually jocks or other guys would say this with a snide smile followed by a slushy facial. But this had been totally different. He could tell it wasn’t an attack. It was almost as if this guy had been flirting with Kurt.

But, no. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. What idiot would flirt with the football teams punching bag? In the middle of the hallway?

Either way, Kurt couldn't wait for classes in the morning.

---

The next day Kurt walked into class six minutes before the bell with Mercedes. They sat at their usually desks.

"So," Mercedes turned to face her best friend, "A little birdie told me that the mystery guy will be in this advisory."

Kurt's heart skipped a beat, but he pretended to act uninterested, "Fascinating."

Mercedes shoved his shoulder, "Oh come on! You have to be a little curious!"

He feigned disinterest once again and shrugged. Mercedes huffed and crossed her arms. Advisory period started. Their teacher began grading papers and told them to keep it down. Of course this meant absolutely nothing.

Kurt doodled in his spiral while helping Mercedes with her Italian.

"Ciao, mi chiamo Kurt Hummel."

"Ciao, mi chiamo Mercedes Jones," Mercedes repeated.

"Oh, caro, mi sento come se ho lasciato il mio tostapane su," Kurt spoke rapidly.

"Oh, caro,- dang, say it again."

Kurt began repeating the phrase, but was interrupted by a loud metal clinking sound. He turned toward the doorway as everyone else did.

The hazel eyes scanned the room slowly, a smirk playing on the owner's lips. The boy's dark curls framed the arrogant expression on his face, as well as the eyebrow and ear piercings. An army green v- neck stretched taught against his chest, as his black jeans did to his legs. The clinking noise came from the chain on his black leather combat boots.

When his eyes reached Kurt his smirk wavered. He regained it just as quickly as it had gone. It would have gone unnoticed to anyone else. But not to Kurt. The boy stared at him for another second before giving a quick wink and continuing toward the teacher's desk. She had noticed his presence and the class’ silence, but only glanced up when the boy flung a folded pink paper on her desk.

The boy didn't stop though, he continued across the class and proceeded to sit in the seat right behind Kurt's, regardless of the twelve other empty desks. The class seemed to still be in a trance. The teacher, Mrs. Preet, looked up once more,

"Class this is Blaine Anderson," the class continued to stare, "Return to your own business, please."

This seemed to shake them out of it. The commotion slowly began again and eyes drifted away from the desk behind Kurt.

Kurt on the other hand was frozen in place. He sat ramrod straight and didn't even breathe. It took him a minute, and Mercedes snapping fingers, for him to remember that that stuff called air was pretty much essential and he couldn't hold his breath forever. He breathed deeply and slumped over a bit.

A chuckle came from behind him and he froze again.

"Don't worry, beautiful," a voice came from behind him, then whispered in his ear, "I don't bite."

Kurt turned at this to find the crooked grin of Blaine Anderson.

Blaine leaned forward, "Hey."

Kurt could feel the warm breath on his face. It smelled like warm coffee and everything else amazing in the world. Kurt struggled with his mind, which seemed to have melted out of his ears, until he came back with an incredibly intelligent response.

"Uhh. Hi."

The crooked grin broke as the stranger laughed. Kurt couldn't help but savor the amazing sound. He continued to stare dumbly at the boy. Blaine leaned on his elboes.

"You know," he cocked his head to the side and wrinkled his nose, "This is usually the bit where you tell me your name."

His eyes bored holes into Kurt's skin. He couldn't help the heat that rose in his cheeks whenever he glanced up at them.

Name? What's a name? Oh yes. Kurt had a name.

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

He could feel Mercedes judging him as he struggled with answering simple questions. She kept to the background though, minding her own business, but most definitely ease dropping.

"Mmm," Blaine hummed, "Kurt. I love that."

Kurt attempted to smile and nod, but instead gave an awkward jerk toward the ceiling. Blaine didn't seem to care though. He leaned back on his desk and held his head in his hands, still staring at Kurt.

Kurt slowly turned back in his chair to where Mercedes stared at him like he had two heads.

What was wrong with him? Why was it so difficult to form complete sentences with this guy? He was usually so witty and quick, but it felt like he was running in slow motion.

He could tell Mercedes had questions, mainly 'What the hell?', but instead of answering, he stared straight forward for the entire period. As hard as he tried, he couldn't seem to get those piercing eyes out of his mind.

---

Kurt couldn't tell if he was upset or glad that he didn't have any other periods with Blaine. On one hand he might get the chance to sit by him, or stare at him during class. On the other he was sure focusing would be completely out the window and his grades would take a downward spiral.

As much as he tried to deny it, he couldn't wait for Blaine to walk into advisory the next morning.

It was eight forty-eight, two minutes to the late bell Tuesday morning. Kurt tried to listen to Mercedes as she rambled about the latest Adele song, he really did, but his mind was elsewhere and his eyes kept glancing at the door.

Eight forty-nine. And still no Blaine.

Kurt worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He added a few nods toward Mercedes for good measure, but now kept his eyes locked on the door.

"Kurt?"

"Mmm hmm, yeah. Totally," he replied automatically.

"Kurt!"

"Hmm?" Kurt blinked as he turned back to Mercedes. She stared at him for a few second, trying to figure out what was wrong.

The bell rang and Kurt quickly turned back to the door. A few latecomers slipped in and shuffled to their seats, but no Blaine. Kurt let himself deflate. His shoulders slumped and he sighed audibly. Maybe it was all just his imagination.

"Miss me?" a voice came from behind his ear. Kurt could almost feel the smile forming on Blaine's face.

Kurt turned back to the boy, attempting to seem innocent.

"What do you mean?" he breathed.

Blaine shrugged and his smug grin grew wider, "I came through the back door."

Kurt looked toward the back of the room, his cheeks turning pink, "Oh."

Blaine just smiled and chuckled.

"So, Kurt, you have a boyfriend?"

Kurt tried desperately to maintain some wit, "So I do scream gay," he turned more in Blaine's direction, "No. I am untethered. Why?"

Blaine leaned back in his chair, "Just wondering."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at the other boys feign at innocence. He turned back to his own desk.

He slowly flipped to a new page in his spiral and slid it toward Mercedes carefully. As she wrote Kurt could feel the steady beat of Blaine's feet tapping on his chair. Without thinking he began to tap the same beat with his pen on the desk.

Mercedes finished and passed the notebook back.

Kurt, I am saying this as your best friend, take him and run.

Kurt calmly began his reply.

Mercedes...

She ripped it back before he could even continue.

No, dammit! He is HOT. And he OBVIOUSLY likes you. Bag him, boy.

Kurt sighed.

I don't even know if he's gay! Let alone if he likes me!

He started to slide it back across the table when a folded scrap of paper, thrown from behind the pair, landed on the spiral. Kurt and Mercedes exchanged a glance before he slowly unfolded it.

Don't worry, he likes you.

The bell rang for first period. Class was dismissed. Before Kurt could even think of replying to that, Blaine was out the door, leaving behind the scrap of paper and the faint smell of axe dark chocolate body spray.

---

The week passed slowly. Blaine continued to sit behind Kurt every morning, but hadn't said anything since the note incident. Kurt could feel himself straining to break the silence, wanting to know more about this beautiful stranger.

What Kurt already knew was that Blaine was a jerk. That is to everyone besides him. He already had detention lined up for a month. He mouthed off to teachers. He was late to every class. And he gave everyone the same arrogant smart ass look. That is everyone except for Kurt.

The next Friday, Kurt silently thanked whatever blessed being had given him a locker across the school from Mercedes. Its not that he didn't love her, he just needed his own mind sometimes. This was perfect for times like these when he just needed to sort things out.

He fell into step along the side of the hallway, out of people's way, out of the jocks way. It sometimes back fired though. Jocks would see it as a perfect opportunity to shove him into the lockers. Other times the jocks wouldn't be able to notice him and he'd get away and to his locker safely.

It was sad that he even had to consider this. Most students spent their time worrying about late work or getting to class on time. Kurt worried about not getting hit, thrown in a dumpster, shoved into a locker, etc etc.

He was about ten feet from his locker when Dave Karofsky pushed him, hard, into the row of lockers. Kurt could already feel the bruise as he was knocked to the floor. He vaguely heard Karofsky laugh.

"What a fag," his friends laughed along.

Kurt was about to gather his things and slip away to the safety of the girls bathroom when he heard something that made his heart stop.

"Hey, shit for brains," Blaine approached Karofsky.

Kurt looked up just in time to see Blaine's fist connect with Karofsky's face. The jock looked shocked and took an automatic step back. His friend's laughing stopped, as did most of the noise in the hallway.

Karofsky tried to act like it didn't hurt, but his eye already began to swell and bruise. He plastered a smile on his face,

"Hey, Kurt, who's this? Your boyfriend?"

Kurt panicked and turned pleading eyes to Blaine who was staring at him apprehensively.

Blaine then turned back to Karofsky and leaned down to help Kurt up. Once they were side by side he wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist,

"Actually, I am. So you better back the fuck off, Karofsky."

Karofsky glanced between the two of them and his friends. He seemed intimidated by Blaine, even though he was about four inches taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier. He glanced back at Kurt once more before turning and stalking back down the hallway. His friends looked confused, but hurried after him.

Kurt sighed heavily and felt the blood rush back into him. He realized the entire hall was full of people gawking at the two and became self conscious and weak kneed. Especially since he was wrapped in Blaine's arms.

Blaine. Blaine. What the hell had Blaine just done?

"Follow me, don't look confused," Blaine whispered in his ear.

He turned on the spot and grabbed Kurt's hand. They walked briskly through the shocked hallway and into an empty biology room. Blaine let go of his hand and began securing the door with a chair. Once it was sufficiently locked he hurried back to Kurt.

He grabbed his hand again, but this time just held it, "Are you alright? Did he hurt you at all?"

The hard look on his face was completely gone and sincere concern replaced it. He stared intently into Kurt's eyes.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. That's actually... That's actually something that happens fairly often," Kurt replied shakily. The other boy froze.

"You mean he always does this?"

"Y-yes," Kurt stammered, "But it's just shoving..."

He exhaled, "And punching..."

Blaine's eyes narrowed.

"And harassing..."

Blaine was livid.

"And people just watch it happen? They just stand by and watch those assholes hurt you?"

"Yeah," Kurt tried to explain, "It's fine, Blaine, just-"

"No," Blaine cut him off, "No fucking way. Not while I'm around."

"But you barely even know me," Kurt said.

"I know. I just feel-" he stopped mid sentence, "You need to get to class. Here," he scribbled something on Kurt's arm in sharpie, "Text me when you get home, okay?"

"Wait, aren't you going to class?" Kurt examined the phone number.

Blaine looked back at the door for a second, "Just don't forget go text me, okay?"

Kurt gaped at him.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

Then Blaine was gone.