From that point forward Quinn had been convinced everyone knew Blaine’s secret that his eighteenth birthday was only two months away, it certainly would have explained their hostility; but then she’d walked in on Finn and Santana debating his age and she realized she had been wrong, so very, very wrong.

With privacy being so hard to come by at Dalton, secrets were stretched even thinner. Quinn had witnessed Rachel trying to coax Kurt into staying away from Blaine, her innate aggression coming in to play as she cornered Kurt in a room and forced every ounce of her persuasion out onto Kurt. Her actions were fruitless; for one her form of persuasion didn’t work on other demons, but more importantly Kurt didn’t take commands very well. He proceeded to shove past her whenever she spoke, his eyes dark and irritated. The fact that Kurt was unresponsive to Rachel’s pleas wasn’t reassuring and it certainly didn’t stop Quinn from worrying. Rachel knew something about Blaine, there had to be a bigger reason that she didn’t trust him other than the fear of an out of control demon.

Kurt had also been ignoring Blaine, but his motives were obvious and far different from Rachel’s, Finn’s, or even Santana’s. It seemed the only ones at Dalton that weren’t avoiding Blaine, aside from the faculty were Wes, Jeff, and Puck.

Blaine on the other hand had maintained a cool exterior. He was so wrapped up in his own head that their hostility had at least seemed to have gone undetected. The fact that he had so many issues to deal with was currently a blessing, but if things continued the way they were, that tension was bound to be broken and something far worse would break out.

Quinn could admit she had never been a good friend to Blaine. She had turned on him countless times. She had been jealous of him and hateful, yet for reasons unbeknownst to Quinn he had always forgiven her. This was something she had both admired and envied. Blaine had always loved her, even defended her despite her flaws, now she felt it was her turn to return the favor.

She would do everything in her power to keep him safe, to ward off that distant look he wore and the pain he had bottled. For now that meant finding him a distraction. She had to help Blaine find his escape, or as demons called it, an outlet.

“Are you sure we’re allowed up here?”

Quinn grinned a little mischievously as she climbed up the last step of the white staircase her eyes crinkling and her nose scrunching faintly, “I hope so.”

Her boots squeaked as she turned towards the hesitant Blaine, his eyes wandering the corridor of the third floor. Even now she could feel jolts of his bottled agitation. It practically rolled off of him like heat waves on concrete.

Blaine’s first two lessons had finished in him blacking out which meant he still had very little knowledge on how to control his now increasing powers. In allowing the darkness to completely take over both his body and mind he had given a little of himself away. He was losing bits and pieces of himself, yet gaining more power in return. It seemed his confounding ability to suppress all natural instincts was the only thing keeping him in line because the first two lessons had definitely affected him. She had caught his eyes flickering black multiple times and each time a dreaded look would dawn on his face as he realized what he was doing.

Their moods were like weather patterns, often predictable but sometimes unprecedented. Blaine was currently restless like the sky before a storm; regardless she had to admit he was doing better than anyone had expected, and she truly hoped giving him an outlet would keep it that way. He needed to clear his mind and she was certain she knew the perfect way for him to do that.

“I didn’t even realize there was a third floor.” Blaine said as he strode towards her his eyes taking in Dalton’s most unvisited hallway.
“The house is four stories Blaine, of course it has a third floor.” She teased as she happily tugged him forward.

He followed, eyeing her strangely, not really understanding or maybe resenting her current playful mood; she reminded herself not to take it personally.

It had taken some time for Quinn to get Blaine to agree to go with her, especially when she didn’t give away where they where going, but Quinn had wanted it to be a surprise, after all they were confined to one building- a large historic building- nonetheless Dalton had it’s limitations.

Blaine had insisted he shouldn’t be alone with her, seeing as he felt himself losing control but Quinn had assured him the transformation wasn’t strong enough to force him to lose his mind, which meant he would never actually hurt her. Additionally it was common knowledge that no one was ever truly alone at Dalton. If he began to act up they’d know.

Quinn fought the urge to cover his eyes as she led him through the creaky door. She knew better than to put her hands on an easily agitated demon, it would have simply been counterproductive, so she settled for asking him to close his eyes. He reluctantly agreed. She watched him grimace as he blindly followed her into a sunlight room.
“Okay you can look now.” She said apprehensively biting down on her lower lip as she waited, her eyes glistening with anticipation.
The moment he saw the beige sheet draped baby grand his eyes lit up and his expression changed from a solemn monk to a child seeing it’s very first puppy.

“Would you like to do the honors or should I?” Quinn asked as she gestured towards the sheet.

Blaine tentatively made his way to the far end of the room; his face stretched open in awe and wonder as he slowly tugged the white fabric over the edge; giving them both a slow motion reveal of a smooth and darkly shined piano. Tiny dust particles danced in the still present sun’s glow, as the sheet toppled downwards.

Apart from the piano the room itself was breathtaking; stepping into it was like stepping into a whole new world, far different from the rest of Dalton, yet strangely appropriate. The sunlight that streamed in through the long rectangular windows vastly illuminated the intricate golden crown molding of the pastel blue painted room. The floor was covered in a thin, pristine ivory carpet. Small oil paintings lined the walls, each featuring small rose gardens and fountains, framed in ornate golden frames.

“I wandered around a lot my first few months here. This room has always been my favorite discovery…. it reminded me of you.” Quinn stated a sad smile playing on her lips.

Blaine warmly smiled back basking in the knowledge that despite what he’d felt he hadn’t been forgotten.

“Rose gardens make you think of me?” he teased eyebrows raised as he looked around the room, not willing to move forward or backward.

Quinn let out a soft laugh. “You know what I mean. The first day I met you, you were sitting on one of these” she gestured to the piano, “and you have been ever since.”

Blaine sighed letting his face fall. “You of all people know there was a time I genuinely hated this thing,” he said tipping his chin at the piano.

Quinn nodded. “Hated as in past tense; but deep down you loved it. I know you did.”

He shrugged.

Quinn pressed on.

“It wasn’t just the piano that made me think of you, it was this room. I’ve always thought it emits a strong sense of happiness and tranquility; much like the Blaine I used to know.”

“Used to know, past tense.” he retorted mindlessly running his fingers along the top of the piano.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Whatever happened to the optimistic Blaine?”
His face worked itself into a halfhearted grin. “He’s still here.”
She let out a low chuckle.

“Good then please tell him to shut you up and play me something.”
Blaine bit down on his lower lip, his hands itching to touch the black and ivory keys.

She silently watched his inner struggle her eyebrow arched, knowing.
“One song. Just one song okay?” He asked as he stared at the piano.
Although she knew her response wasn’t needed Quinn nodded and settled on the bench alongside him. She had to readjust her sitting position twice to accommodate the both of them on the rather small piano stool. It was then that she learned just how much Blaine had grown in the time she hadn’t seen him; not so much in height more in width, his arms, chest even his shoulders had broadened. He looked stronger and toned. It seemed every part of his body had filled out perfectly, every part except his waist, Quinn observed with a smile.

Blaine’s waist seemed to be as tiny as it had been when he was fifteen -perhaps a tad bit wider- which was convenient because with Blaine scooting forward and Quinn scooting back, they both fit perfectly on the small piano stool.

A long melancholic vibrato hummed through the piano chords as he sunk his fingers into the keys, his eyes warmed at the sound. He smiled contently at the familiar sound then expertly found the first note. His eyes fluttered shut and he began to play what Quinn immediately recognized as her favorite piece he’d written.
The first notes were soft and light, the intro long and repetitive; she could feel Blaine losing himself more and more, some notes ascending others descending. She felt whatever stirred within him deflating as it lost every connection it had to Blaine’s mind. All of his attention was intensely focused on the instrument before him.
As the song gained momentum his fingers jumped from one side to the other, each note gracefully held for methodical periods of time. She watched as Blaine poured out his frustrations, his grief, and disappointment. His split and bruised lip slightly trembled as he begged the piano for consolation.

Quinn had seen that look on his face countless times. In fact music itself had partaken in his pain. His mother, Mrs. Anderson had been a well-known pianist. As a child Blaine had wanted nothing more than to learn to play like her. He had begged that his mother teach him but she had always refused. When his begging became unbearable his Nanny threatened to quit so his mother hired a music teacher, which secretly crushed Blaine, but he refused to admit it.
Stubbornness may have been the only thing they shared. Even at the tender age of six he was an optimist, a stubborn optimist. He made up excuses for his own mother never wanting to admit the truth. He made up his mind to master the piano. This would be how he would finally make his mother proud he’d whispered to Quinn one day as he showed off his ability to play “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” without glancing at the music sheet.

It seemed that much like Quinn the only thing Blaine had ever craved was acceptance, but as far as she knew that was something he never received, the fact that he played the piano only made Mrs. Anderson more rigid towards Blaine.

The way his mother treated him often made Quinn wondered if she really was his mother. She’d always wanted one because they where supposed to be nurturing, filled with unconditional love, but not Mrs. Anderson. She had always seemed indifferent to Blaine. Now the idea that she wasn’t his biological mother seemed highly plausible seeing as demon’s birth mothers never survived. Perhaps Mrs. Anderson had always hated Blaine because he wasn’t her son.

Quinn wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse mostly because it meant that if this had been the case Blaine’s real mother was most likely dead on account of his existence.

Any normal person would have given up on the piano or music in general, but Blaine had never been normal; he was acutely drawn to music despite everything because he was an optimist. For a short lapse of time he did stop playing but only because his father claimed he was too old for piano lessons. He seemed to dismiss the fact that his wife was a professional musician. Yet not even a day later Quinn had caught Blaine fiddling with a harmonica. He carried it around with him wherever he went and although she claimed to hate it she had secretly loved it because the harmonica brought out his playful side, as well as his contagious face splitting grin that rarely saw the light of day in his household.

That was also the time he began to sing more. Girls swooned over him and Quinn grew resentfully jealous but he never seemed to notice; he was far too busy falling in love with his new vice, the guitar. She knew that Blaine eventually grew resentful towards the piano but that was only because he’s found various other instruments to take its place.

Quinn believed his passion for music was the one thing that had kept him sane all those years; she hoped it still had that same effect. She turned her eyes back on Blaine who now seemed to have been winding down. There was nothing but utter despair written in his face, his eyes were still shut but she could see his adam’s apple bob up and down as he tried to contain his emotions.

Her own throat seemed to constrict at the sight and a small flicker of anger surged through her, she instantly pushed it down not that it stopped the negative thoughts that circled her mind like vultures. It wasn’t fair, everything about their lives had been a tragedy how was that not enough? How much longer did she have to watch the people she cared most for suffer? She could feel how much Blaine had changed; something in him had hardened, a bit of the light he had always emitted had gone out, and she hated it.

Blaine slowly opened his eyes his fingers still alternating between the keys in slow smooth patterns, he tearfully looked up at Quinn then just as slowly and as magically as it had begun, the music ended and the room fell silent.

**
The distant sound of a dying engine made her roll her eyes in irritation. What part of being inconspicuous did he not understand?
“I’m here!” he yelled slamming the car door shut.
Rachel twitched angrily- to think she had once been attracted to this dumb ass.

She rapidly walked in his direction, Puck, quickly pinpointing where her footsteps were coming from met her halfway.

She stopped as she suddenly lost his presence. She knew he was near, there was a brief rustle of leaves to her left but she knew better than to believe he was actually standing in that spot, he was quick and had most likely rushed somewhere closer to her. Demons loved the early and late hours of the day for this very reason but there were certain places, like dark alleys , that were always useful to demons because they provided shadows. The various shadows cast by the tall pine trees surrounding them were perfect for slithering past people completely undetected. Every demon could blend into shadows and dark places. Their bodies remained intact but to everyone else it was like they had vanished, they became completely invisible. Rachel walked around aimlessly huffing in frustration.

“This isn’t funny!” she muttered and Puck suddenly materialized before her.

He smirked when she nearly walked into his chest. She smirked when he was pinned to the nearest pine tree, pine needles shuttering and dusting the ground beneath them.

“I’m not here to play with you Puck.” she said loosening her grip on him and standing back to fix her bangs which had fallen over her eyes.

“My bad” he said as he rubbed the back of his head.

She loved that she could sometimes overpower someone as big and stealthy as him.

“I just figured that… you know since you asked to meet me out here all alone when it’s almost dark –he paused- that you maybe wanted to, you know…. I mean what else would you want from me?” he asked his voice trailing off.

“You thought I wanted to cheat on Finn with you?” she belted both appalled and insulted. “For your information I asked you to meet me out here because I needed to be out of earshot, not because I want you Puckerman” she lowered her voice and spoke rapidly, almost nervously avoiding Pucks gaze, “it um… it seems you were right; certain people shouldn’t know what we know, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t discuss what’s going on.”

Puck flashed her an incredulous look. “Wait, are you saying I snuck out here to "talk" to you?”

Rachel sighed in frustration. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that you had to sneak out in the first place? We aren’t Dalton students. We’re graduates. We’re adults now. We shouldn’t have to go by anyone else’s rules.”

“Yes but if Smithe asks us to stay at Dalton then he obviously needs us for something.” Puck said angrily shaking his head.

Rachel wanted to sneer at his hypocrisy if he really believed that then why had he actually snuck out of Dalton? However, she realized there were more important matters at hand. She had a plan and she had to stick to the plan if she wanted to get him on her side.

“Are you really that blind?” she asked deciding to bring the case in point. “The cable is down, the Internet is down, and now Smithe has asked all mentors and watchers to stay on campus. We are being cut off from the outside world and I want to know why.”

It was true early that Sunday morning Smithe had rounded up all the mentors and watchers and asked that they not leave campus. He had assured everyone that things were fine, however it was in their best interests as well as the students to remain at Dalton.

Smithe had seemed agitated and Rachel had noticed Mr. Sheuster was just as worked up, because he’d stormed out of Smithe’s office moments later.

Several hours later Rachel had cunningly noticed that both their Internet and cable had been cut; it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on.

Puck rolled his eyes at her. “You want to know why? I’ll tell you why. The satellite is down and you’re being paranoid. Nothing is going on Rachel, so stop being a prissy little drama queen and come back to Dalton with me. ”

“I’m not being paranoid and you know I’m not.” Rachel cried, completely ignoring his last comment.

Puck ignored her turning back towards his car, “No. I really don’t.” He muttered.

Rachel had no other choice but to follow him, she couldn’t let him get away. “You know more than everyone else does! You guys were sent out to specifically find him, he’s only been here two days and already our world is being turned upside down. You know exactly what he is, what he is capable of-”

Puck shook his head. “God Rachel shut up! We are not doing this again. I’m not discussing Blaine with you. So forget it.” He continued to trudge through the woods, his hands in his pockets as he fished for the car keys.

“He’s going to be more powerful than us isn’t he?” Rachel persisted.
Puck was silent.

Rachel continued, she was certain she could get to him to admit everything she already suspected.

“Why did you bring him? He’s not like us. He could destroy us all, couldn’t he?” She asked each question quickly, in an accusatory tone, slight hysteria slipping more and more into her voice with every question.

Puck angrily whipped around, “you saw him Rachel, does he seem threatening to you?”

She glared at him.

Puck huffed. “I didn’t know, okay? None of us knew what he was and we still aren’t sure.”

“Don’t give me that, everyone else may not know but you and I do.”
She could feel Puck tense and he shook as he fought to keep himself at bay, her words were getting to him. “

“He is getting stronger by the day!” She yelled. “Maybe when you first started hunting him down you didn’t realize what he was, but I know you feel it now.”

Puck was now approaching his car; Rachel quickly blocked the black mustang’s door.

Puck looked down at the ground his tongue at the roof of his mouth as he tried to keep his cool.

He gritted his teeth, “don’t do this right now Rachel,” as much as he hated her, he didn’t want to hurt her.

She stood her ground, “just answer me this; do you trust Blaine?” she asked. Her eyes were wide and glossy as something dark and possessive swam though them, a reflection of her deep rooted fear.

There was a long stretch of silence.

“I trust Smithe.” Puck replied decisively.

Of course he did, everyone at Dalton did.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t.” she whispered hesitantly and for the first time since she began their argument, Rachel felt scared.

“And why not?” Puck asked his jaw set.

“B-because this morning I heard Emma and Mr.Sheuster arguing, he kept saying Smithe was putting us all in danger, that none of this was going to end well. He stopped talking the moment he realized I was near them but I know what I heard. And now I don’t know if I really trust Smithe anymore. What if Mr. Sheuster is right? We have worked so hard to stay alive in more ways than one. What if Blaine is what finally brings us down? I’m not sure Smithe still has our best interest at heart and I don’t feel safe at Dalton anymore.”

Puck looked momentarily torn.

“Then leave.” he said flatly.

“I’m sorry what?” Rachel breathed out suddenly flustered.

“If you don’t trust Smithe then you shouldn’t be at Dalton. Leave.” he said as he reached for the door handle. Rachel jumped out of the way completely taken aback by his response and abrupt coldness.
Puck got into the car and started the engine, only then did he roll down the window and look back up at Rachel.

“I know Blaine is different, but so are we, if Smithe was able to help us who’s to say he can’t help Blaine? I trust Smithe and I trust Blaine because like Kurt I don’t see anything bad in him. You once trusted Smithe with your life. So now you decide, are you willing to do it again?” Rachel was silent. “If you’re not, don’t bother coming back because if I see you plotting stuff behind his back I swear on my parents grave that I will personally make sure you’re permanently exiled from Dalton. But don’t worry I’m sure Finn will go with you. He’s weak and does whatever others tell him to do, I’m surprised he’s survived this far.”

With that said, Puck placed a hand on the steering wheel and drove off; leaving Rachel stunned, her mouth hanging open.

That definitely hadn’t been the response she had expected.

**
Sunday 8pm
“So how are you holding up?”

Blaine turned to see Jesse standing next to him. He flashed one of the kitchen staff a smile then turned back to Blaine who had been debating whether he wanted roast beef of meatloaf.

Blaine shrugged, things weren’t going as well as he had expected. In fact there had been various times throughout the day where he wanted to snap people’s heads off; everyday felt worse. “I haven’t made any progress.” Blaine responded instead as he tried his best to hide the irritation in his voice.

Jesse laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s okay, it’s been two days. I have a feeling tomorrow may be a breakthrough for you, so you may want to mentally prepare yourself for that.”

Blaine let out an involuntary groan.

He had spent a cumulative six hours trying to learn to control his powers and in those few hours he had only managed to repeatedly lose control and black out. Each time he was fought and brought back to consciousness only to be told to try again. It was frustrating, exasperating, and downright maddening.

The worst part seemed to be the nightmares that were now more vivid than before, each consisting of the same things, the blood and suffering of others followed by his exhilaration. The exhilaration or joy that came from hearing others beg and scream out in pain always made Blaine wake up feeling sick, his stomach churning in disgust. He’d woken up to vomit twice, as the rusty smell of blood lingered around him, following him into his state of consciousness. He was grateful he had his own bathroom to lock himself in.

Jesse may not have seemed discouraged but Blaine was. He knew his clock was ticking, all he wanted was a way to stop, or at least dismiss time as something irrelevant, and he would do that if he could find a way to fully control himself.

“You seem a little calmer now, did you find some sort of outlet?” Jesse asked as he moved towards the desserts.

Blaine settled for the medium rare roast beef and followed him.
“I uh… Quinn actually got me to play the piano earlier.”

Jesse raised both eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Did it help?”

Blaine wished he could say it had but if he was honest with himself the effect had only lasted while he was in the room. Once he had left and was far from the piano everything seemed to fall back on him.

“A little.” Blaine replied.

“Then that’s not really your permanent outlet.” Jesse said shrugging.
Blaine had been briefed on outlets. Much like Quinn he’d thought music was his, now he wasn’t really sure.

“I doubt I have one, besides music has always had a powerful effect on me no matter the instrument, maybe I just need to figure out how to control my emotions on my own.” Blaine said dismissively.
Jesse shook his head. “I’m not saying the piano isn’t a good distraction because it seems to have helped you, but you said it yourself it only helped a little. You need something that last longer, and you’ll find it. Sometimes our outlets change; your strongest outlet may not be music anymore. It’s going to be something that clears your mind and settles you no matter how wound up you get and when you find it you’ll know.”

**
Wednesday 9pm
Kurt closed his eyes and forced himself to take slow and steadying breaths.

He hadn’t felt this distracted since his first week at Dalton. He thoughtlessly strapped on his black fighting gloves and shut his locker.

It wasn’t long before his cheeks were flushed and he was dripping with sweat. His fist collided with the punching bag once, twice, three times all in consecutive order.

Double left hook, double right hook, he repeated the combinations in his head like mantras.

Kurt never really thought boxing was for him or that it would ever really become his outlet, but it became his greatest stress reliever, every angry punch felt like a breath of fresh air to Kurt. Sam had introduced it to him their first week in; since he was obsessed with sculpting his body Sam had quickly realized working out was the simplest way to clear his own mind. Kurt on the other hand had never been one for physical exertion, unless it was somehow involved with dance. Unfortunately Dalton was not equipped with a dancing studio or any real form of performing arts for that matter, which was all Kurt had known.

Sam had insisted Kurt try boxing with him and Kurt had done it to please him. When he had seen himself in the mirror he’d felt ridiculous. He was still going through his latest growth spurt and he did not look like he belonged anywhere near a punching bag, but if there is one thing about Kurt Hummel that you should know it’s that he never backs down, so once instructed on the proper way to punch he had flipped his hair away from his face, running a delicate hand along his bangs to keep them out of his eyes, then proceeded to glare at the punching bag before giving it all he had.

That first blow had been unexpectedly gratifying and by the end he’d felt his mind humming contently. He loved that he was allowed to be merciless with the punching bag, that he didn’t have to worry about hurting it. Needless to say he continued boxing, developing a fine technique with some help from older demons at Dalton. Not only did boxing help build his confidence and embrace his new potential, it also whipped him into the best shape he’d ever been in.
Kurt no longer feared being aggressive, in fact, he played with it. This, he thought, may have contributed to how easily he’d learned to deal with his demon side. It had never been easy, like Kurt had told Blaine, many times he’d locked himself in that small study and cried, but Kurt was a fast learner and after a couple of months it was evident he struggled a lot less than most other young demons. Smithe had told him it was most likely due to his tendency to strive for perfection.

So the fact that Kurt was suddenly feeling off was foreign and unwanted. He needed to focus, to clear his mind and get back to his original mindset. This was why he was now standing in front of his third nearly demolished punching bag, his heart racing, his face flushed, and his eyes only a shade lighter than before.
He didn’t understand why it wasn’t working.

The usual instant effect was gone; his mind was still filled with ludicrous thoughts and fleeting anger.

Kurt paused and put both arms down languidly as the sound of laughter echoed through the locker room. He cursed his luck, he really didn’t want to be near anyone but he didn’t have much of a choice, their voices already seemed to be getting closer.

“It works for a lot of us here: me, Santana, hell even Kurt, we all do it.”

There was a brief pause “Speak of the devil.”

Kurt hung his head and clung to the swinging punching bag to steady it, he had instantly recognized the two people making their way from the locker room to the gym. It was strange how familiar both felt when he’d only met one of them five nights ago. Normally Kurt could disregard the familiar sensation of another demon, in fact he’d become less and less aware of it; it was now as startling as a person blinking, yet for some reason Blaine’s presence always seemed to wake him.

Kurt braced himself, taking sharp breaths and slowly stepping away from the punching bag, it was too late to sneak out, they were both fully aware of his presence, he quickly try to piece himself together expertly reigning in all his emotions to avoid an unwanted conversation, he didn’t need people knowing he was falling apart. Blaine glanced up at him as they entered the gym his eyes widened and his mouth ever so slightly parted when he spotted the sweaty, rosy cheeked, and messy haired Kurt. It made Kurt self-conscious. Here was a boy he was certain was unknowingly attracted to him, and he was standing before him in nothing but black spandex pants and a white sleeveless shirt. Immediately all he wanted to do was run out or at least turn away but he forced himself to keep his eyes on Blaine and Wes, and smile.

Blaine’s golden eyes bore into Kurt. He wore what Kurt assumed were his own grey sweatpants with a thin white beater that clung to his torso. It seemed he had also gelled most of his curls down in a way that decadently framed his face, which was disconcertingly drawn tight.

Blaine eventually dropped his gaze and cleared his throat, “it’s nice to see you again,” he offered, his voice flat. Kurt knew she shouldn’t have felt hurt by the hint of sarcasm or resentment in his voice, the brevity of his statement made hard to tell, but it was there. The fact that he could also feel Blaine’s hostility wasn’t helping.

Demons were constantly evolving creatures. Blaine’s presence now seemed harsher and much more agitated than it had a few nights ago. It was hard to tell how much of his current resentment was built from his nature and how much was sincerely aimed at Kurt. Either way Kurt felt he deserved it.

He hadn’t actually explained himself to Blaine, he’d simply ignored him for days.

Wes’ voice broke the short silence.

“Hello Kurt.”

Kurt cleared his throat. “Hello Wes, Blaine.” He tried to me Blaine’s gaze and failed.

“I have come to teach Blaine our ways,” Wes said overdramatically, his voice haughty.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Wes slung an arm around Blaine. “It sure is.”

Kurt couldn’t help crack a smile. He loved seeing Wes this happy; when he’d first arrived he had been uncomfortably serious and direct, yet his approach to life and people in general changed the day he lost his closest friend Nick. It was like something clicked for Wes and he no longer took a single moment or person for granted. He became a bit stronger, less aggressive, more humble and caring. It made him a better person and a more controlled demon.

Wes shoved two black fingerless gloves at Blaine and turned back to Kurt. He, like Kurt, was in a standard Dalton uniform.

“Don’t mind us though, we’ll be in this corner so you can keep doing your thing. I figured I’d introduce him to a new outlet; see if this works for him since nothing else has. Unless you want to help him yourself?” Wes asked and Kurt was certain he’d tried to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively as he finished his sentence.

One look at a brooding Blaine was all Kurt needed to decline the offer. “I’m sure you can handle it,” he breathed quickly as he wiped a trickle of sweat from his temple with his forearm.

“Besides I was about to call it a night but um…” he shuffled uncomfortably as Blaine looked back up at him his face contorted in an emotion Kurt didn’t understand, “good luck.”

Wes gave him a half-hearted smile then turned to Blaine “well then I guess we should get started.”

Kurt quickly unstrapped his gloves, grabbed a small towel to throw around his neck and headed out. He had barely collapsed on the bench in front of his locker when he both felt and heard Blaine burst into the room.

Kurt jumped up and turned towards the doorway.

“What the hell is your problem with me?” Blaine shouted.

Kurt wasn’t sure how to react. He stared at Blaine in horror. Wanting to answer but not knowing where or how to begin. Wes stormed in his eyes anxiously darting from Kurt to Blaine.

“I’m not going to hurt him Wes.” Blaine said through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Blaine said a little more calmly, this time only addressing Kurt.

“I know.” Kurt said tentatively and he meant it.

He could see his own reflection in the full-length mirror. His shoulders arched back and his chest pushed out as if he was waiting to be attacked.

He felt both internally and externally conflicted. One part of him felt anxious or threatened yet another part, a bigger part was calm, relived to see Blaine again. It had been difficult to step out of the gym. He hadn’t actually talked to Blaine since their introduction at the staircase. He’d been positive Blaine didn’t want to see him or even be near him after he shut him out for more than half a week but he was quickly realizing he’d misread Blaine. He had the urge to get up and explain himself to Blaine, to comfort him, to end the pain he felt in Blaine, but he was glued to the bench as Blaine fumed in front of him.

“Look I’ve heard people talking behind my back saying things like I’m dangerous or that I shouldn’t be trusted. I’ve seen the way everyone avoids me and I’ve tried to not to let it get to me.” Blaine’s eyes fell to the floor. “You told me on the night we met that you understood what I was going through, but I don’t think you do because if you did, you wouldn’t have avoided me like the others.”

Kurt’s heart plummeted.

“These past couple days have been the worst days of my life and that says something because I have had a shitty life.” Blaine spat. “But I pushed myself. I went to Smithe and told him I was staying. I have put myself through hell with Jesse all in hopes of proving to myself and to others that I’m not a bad person. That I’m not some monster. I have been trying so hard and none of it has worked. And now to top it all off practically every person here hates me.”

“No one hates you.” Kurt said weakly, as he fought his overwhelming guilt.

Blaine let out a sardonic chuckle, “No, they just don’t want me around.”

His words pained Kurt, but what was worse was he had no real way to refute them.

“Not that I care. I’m used to being alone. Here at least I have Quinn and Wes which is more than I’ve ever had. Rejection is actually an old friend of mine.” Blaine said angrily “But you want to know what’s killing me? What’s killing me is that you of all people can’t stand to be in a room with me for more than two minutes. You avoid me just like the others and I’m starting to think you and everyone else fed me false hope. Am I actually dangerous Kurt? Am I nothing but a ticking time bomb that you guys need to detonate? Is that why you stopped me from leaving the other night?”

Kurt shook his head; Blaine was far from the truth. He didn’t believe anything anyone had said about Blaine. He knew Rachel and a few others were thrown off by his age and sense of control, he figured they thought he was a rogue spy or something along those lines, but Kurt didn’t believe that, of course there was no way Blaine knew that.
Kurt had sent him the opposite message; he’d made Blaine think he really was someone harmful, someone that should be avoided. He suddenly felt a twinge of disgust towards himself and his friends. He would have to set them straight, Blaine didn’t deserve this, he’d seen him at his lowest, he’d seen how scared, and confused he’d been, he’d even felt it.

It was then that it all sunk in and Blaine’s rage made a lot more sense.

By then Kurt had let the silence stretch out far longer than he’d intended. Wes was staring at him expectantly.

He could see Blaine’s fists tightening, feel him closing himself off, getting lost in every negative thoughts he’d been harboring, as he stood there waiting for Kurt to respond. It was then that Kurt stood up and stepped closer. Blaine following his every move with his eyes eventually Kurt reached to put his hand on Blaine’s arm. Blaine instantly swallowed air and shuddered. Kurt felt himself shuddered as well, an inexplicable chill running through him.

Blaine’s eyes looked wide and conflicted as Kurt pushed away the dizzying sensation and spoke, “Blaine,” he prompted sternly- it was enough to get his attention, “you and I both know that isn’t true. You are safe at Dalton.” His eyes searched Blaine’s face, “and no matter what idiotic people may be saying-because that’s all they are, a bunch of judgmental morons- you are not dangerous. The only reason I think you threaten anyone here is because you’re stronger than us; you don’t realize how incredible it is that you’ve been out there that long without hurting anyone. Blaine you’re not dangerous in fact I actually think you’re the most inspiring person here, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel any less of yourself. I-” he paused unsure how to explain himself. “I was being selfish.”

Kurt could feel the gradual shift in Blaine, his anger replaced by distrust.

“You don’t have to lie.” He said slowly his gaze downcast.

Kurt’s eyes flickered down then back up to Blaine. “I’m not,” he said softly, softer than he’d ever intended. “My reasons for not really approaching you this week weren’t what you’d think. I can’t really explain it, in fact I barely understand it myself but one day when I figure it all out I’ll tell you, I swear. For now I just need you to forgive me.”

Blaine let out a watery laugh his eyes falling on Kurt’s hand that was still warmly pressed on Blaine’s arm. “You have nothing to be sorry about, we aren’t friends, you had no obligation to talk to me, and who knows maybe everyone else is right. Maybe I’m more of a threat than anyone realizes.”

Kurt didn’t have time to question Blaine’s comment because instead of sparking curiosity or fear it sparked anger and guilt. He immediately slid his hand down into Blaine’s and pulled him towards the doorway, not bothering to grab his things.

“Come with me.” He coaxed.

Blaine tried to pull away.

“Please.”

He watched Blaine press down on his lips, torn between wanting to give in, wanting to believe, and his understandable mistrust. “Why?”
Kurt shrugged, “because I need you to. You’re obviously not going to take anything I say seriously and we need to find you an outlet that will help you focus on proving everyone-including yourself -wrong. Which is why you and I are going back to the gym.” Kurt’s tone softened “This is my way of apologizing Blaine, please let me.”

The air seemed to crackle with anticipation.

Blaine took a hesitant step forward, both their hearts racing. Their current situation was an adrenaline rush; every one of their senses felt more heightened and aware; Blaine’s had been heightened because he’d been angry, to the point of losing control, and Kurt’s because he’d been startled. However, Blaine had released his pent up frustration, his anger dwindling, while Kurt regained his composure, easily pushing himself to take control, but there was still something about the situation- that Kurt wanted to write off as a simple fragment of his imagination- that made Blaine’s response feel monumental.

“Okay,” Blaine said tightly squeezing Kurt’s hand in response.
Kurt stifled a small gasp that threatened to escape his mouth at the touch. He’d unconsciously grabbed Blaine’s hand to urge him out of the room yet he hadn’t realized he was actually holding Blaine’s hand. It was like the pressure had awakened the awareness that his hand was currently wrapped around Blaine’s. He’d never held another boys hand before-he’d held girls. Rachel was constantly slipping her petite hands into his and his best friend- before Dalton- had always held his hand as well, but she’d also been a girl.

This was completely different for several reasons that Kurt couldn’t get into.

Blaine’s hand suddenly felt ten times heavier. Kurt knew he shouldn’t allow his mind to wander into dangerous territory, this wasn’t a romantic gesture, but he couldn’t help but indulge in the flutter of his chest and the unnerving sense of balance that ran through him; for a brief second he relished in the warmth of Blaine’s hand before forcing those thoughts and sensations away.
He smiled tightly, and let go of Blaine’s hand, instantly missing the physical contact but there was no real reason to walk hand in hand to the gym. Blaine’s own lips curved into a grateful smile not seeming the least bit flustered.

A fake cough made both their heads turn.

Wes eyed them knowingly. They’d obviously forgotten he was even there. He put his hands up in resignation. “Don’t mind me I’ll just be here.”

They both laughed and the tension was gone.

**
That night Kurt went to bed feeling less burdened than he’d felt in a long time. The suffocating darkness that had threatened to become a permanent resident in his head was gone. Kurt could finally think clearly again.
He knew time was passing and things where bound to get more difficult, that maybe his outlet wouldn’t bring the same immediate release it had always had, but it was a comfort to know he could eventually regain partial focus and much needed peace of mind.

Blaine went to bed feeling just as calm. He hoped the warm, almost mind numbing, feeling he'd felt that night as he learned to box with Kurt didn’t rush away this time.