Shuffling along his bed, Blaine leant over and pulled out the shoebox he kept hidden under it. Rain pattered lightly on his windows which were covered in a set of pale blue curtains, keeping out the pale light sifting through the glass. For a Saturday afternoon he was fairly inactive. Normally a run would be the first thing on his list of things to do but for some reason he'd felt odd this morning, disjointed somehow. And for that very reason he had simply showered and gotten back into bed with his guitar.

The box sat in front of him was tattered and torn and covered in photographs. Some of musical geniuses and some of memories that made him ache somewhere in the heart region. He sighed and removed the lid, sifting through the paper inside and slipping out a couple of sheets from near the bottom of the pile. Placing them aside he slid the box back underneath his bed and slung his guitar across one knee; scrutinising the sheets in front of him. Slowly, he familiarised himself with the plucking pattern and began playing softly.

One of the joys of that short time between summer and when the weather began to deteriorate dramatically was the fact that his parents were out of the house on a pretty much daily basis, leaving him alone for days at time. Blaine didn't used to like this arrangement but as he grew, and things changed, life in the Anderson household became…tense. It was as if his father was constantly wound up like a spring ready to pounce on him every time the opportunity presented itself. "Your grades are dropping Blaine" "you spend too much time playing music than you should be" "is it a guy" that last one was normally the one to set Blaine off but what his parents saw was only the tip of the iceberg. Thing was, Blaine was quiet, kept to himself, gained most of his confidence on stage. When it came to being social…well he wasn't exactly a pro. Far from it - but when he was at Dalton, where he knew everyone and where he was accepted, things had been a lot easier. It was like being in a bubble, with that small group of friends that knew him so well, knew his quirks and his irritations. But one day somebody would come along and it was as if by them entering the bubble there wasn't enough room for him and so he was pushed right out. He would try, honestly try, but he just couldn't do it, couldn't summon the courage to dive in, to get to know someone. The eye contact thing didn't help either, as his father was always saying whenever Blaine spent one of his yelling sessions staring at his feet.

Another joy of being home alone of course: the short sleeves.

He heard the rain begin to pick up and paused in his ad lib, turning his head towards the window. The shadows of the raindrops skittered across the curtains, making varying patterns that changed every time the water hit the window. If only Blaine could be as changeable as the rain, maybe he'd be able to sort himself out. He turned back to his guitar but couldn't bring himself to touch the strings. He sighed, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. He placed his guitar against his nightstand and slipped off the bed towards the door. His socks made no sound as he slunk towards the stairs, sliding down the varnished banister to save the effort of walking. He relished in the cool air that hit him as he opened the fridge, crouching slightly with his hands on his thighs while he searched for something half decent to eat. And by half decent he meant something that didn't cost about fifty dollars. His family were very a la carte in their dining. He was about to reach in and remove some cheese when two hands grasping his waist had him standing bolt upright and walloping his head in the process. The resulting yelp of pain had the intruder bent double, wheezing

"what the-Cooper WHAT THE HELL?" he rubbed the sore spot on his head and threw the block of cheese he was holding at his wheezing brother to no effect as it landed a good foot to the right of him.

"That was classic little bro, classic…" Blaine froze. Shit, short sleeves. He turned back to fridge in a panic, heart racing as his hands ran over his arms. It seemed Cooper hadn't noticed anything thus far however but how the fuck was he going to get out of this one? His head snapped left to right until he spotted a hand towel on the bench to the side of him. he turned his head slightly to see that Cooper was busy untying his shoes before making a grab for the towel, shielding his forearms from view as he made his way past his brother and into the sitting room, spotting (luckily) a sweater he had left there the night before, slipping it around his shoulders quickly before his brother entered the room behind him.

"Hey where's my hug bro?" he held out his arms and Blaine rolled his eyes, stepping forward to embrace the taller guy. "the rents away again?" he asked as they pulled away, both falling into an armchair each, Blaine maybe sitting a bit more stiffly than he would normally have done. It wasn't his fault he was so tense, that was a fucking close call. Fucking Cooper.

"Yeah, Dad's in DC and Mom's got a dinner in Philly with some old work colleague" he waved his hand dismissively. "What are you doing here? No big break yeah huh?" he teased

"Hey! I'm the hottest commercial guy in the business, it's just taking a while for people to notice, and it's not my fault people are blinded by the ugliness and atrocities around them."

"So that's what it is. I personally don't understand it, your pointing is always so intense!" he mimicked his brother's latest commercial, sitting straight and pointing sternly across the room. His brother shot him a glare in response to his smirk.

"You all alone Blainers? No warblers about?"

"I'm not…wait" his eyebrows knitted together "did Mom and Dad not tell you I transferred?" from the look of confusion and shock on Cooper's face apparently not "I go to school in Lima now Coop." he spoke slowly, feeling a little uneasy

"What the fuck?" Cooper stood angrily, striding over to the window with his hands clasped behind his head. "I'm so tired of this shit. Did something happen at Dalton?" he turned, looking suddenly concerned. Blaine sighed, rubbing his arms and wishing he was anywhere but here having to explain this.

"No…well not really. You know what Mom and Dad are like about me being, y'know…" he jerked his head to emphasise his point "maybe they think public school will straighten me up." He shrugged.

"That's bullshit Blaine and you know it. What was their reason?"

"They didn't actually…" he trailed off, the realization hitting him that they hadn't actually given him a valid reason for his transfer. When faced with the threat of his father's wrath he hadn't dared argue when he had announced it. He frowned "they didn't give one" he stated softly, looking down at the floor, suddenly angry.

"Oh I knew they were bad; or that Dad was bad, I can't believe Mom would agree to this"

"She does whatever Dad says, you know that."

"But to stoop that low?" Cooper sank into the armchair again, looking ten years older as the weight of Blaine's suffering settled around him. He wiped a hand over his eyes as Blaine reached out and placed a hand comfortingly on his brother's knee.

"Don't stress. What's done is done. And it isn't that bad" he blushed slightly, dropping his chin as thoughts of one Kurt Hummel crossed his mind.

"Yeah well I'm still angry. When are they back?"

"Tuesday I think? I don't know I'll check the calendar." He stood and made his way to the kitchen "want something to eat?" he threw over his shoulder

"You making pasta?" he asked hopefully

"Of course" Blaine replied, grinning at the whoop from the lounge as he trailed his finger down the September page on the hanging wall calendar. The star drawn neatly into one of the boxes indicated that Blaine was in fact correct in his prediction. Cooper entered the room just as Blaine slid a pan off the wrack and filled it with water before chucking a few handfuls of pasta in and sticking it on the stove.

"Pesto Pasta a la Blaine?" asked cooper, slipping onto a chair at the breakfast bar.

"Would it be anything else?" he said, leaning against the work top as he let the water boil.

"soooooooooooo" his brother began "how is this new school of yours?"

"It's okay." He replied quietly "lot bigger than Dalton. Pretty scary. But there are fair few friendly people" he tried to hold back a smile as he remembered Kurt's soft hand in his when they first met, and Kurt trying to hold in his laughter when Blaine had blatantly insulted Rachel without even realising, and Kurt…just Kurt…

"Hellooooo?" his brothers voice brought him back from his Hummel induced reverie.

"Huh?"

"Blainers, you're blushing like a twelve year old. Hang on…" he began to smile, sitting back on his stool. "Has Blainers found a guy?" he looked as if all his dreams had come true. All Blaine could do in response was open his mouth and try to articulate a reply that would have gone a lot like "no, I don't make friends Coop you know that" but all that really came out was some guttural sounds along with a few twitches of his shoulders and head. Cooper clapped his hands and leapt towards him, grabbing him in a bear hug before pulling back and slinging an arm around the younger boy's shoulders. "Ah, young love, tell me all about him."

Blaine was as red as a beet by now, his arms wrapped around his torso and head dipped in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He mumbled something unintelligible and tried to turn back to his Pasta.

"What was that?" his brother asked. Blaine threw his arm from around his shoulders and turned to the pasta, watching the water boil for a moment before moving towards the cupboards to collect what he needed for his legendary sauce. "Come on little bro you ain't getting out of it that easily" he sidled back over to his seat, clasping his hands in front of him on the counter. "I wanna know who's getting my baby brother so flustered. Wait…he's not straight is he?" Blaine looked over to see his brow furrowed in worry. He rolled his eyes.

"No it's nothing like that" he took a breath and turned to chop up the fresh green beans before chucking them in with the pasta. "I don't know…his name is Kurt. He's a year above me."

"Keep going" Cooper prompted

"weeeeeell, he's tall and has the most amazing eyes, and he speaks fluent French. And he sings Coop, Sings"

"awr Blainers you got it bad."

"come on, I've known him for what, four days?" he arched his eyebrow, shaking his head and opening the fridge to remove the parmesan to grate "now stop being so nosy and come help me" his brother slipped off the chair and came to join him, pulling down the cheese grater from the cupboard and beginning to grate into a bowl.

"So you gonna make a move?" Blaine blushed again, watching the water boil away.

"Are you kidding me? He's way out of my league. To be fair I don't even know if he is gay." The fact hit him as the words slipped out of his mouth. He was pretty sure Kurt was but who was he to judge. Doubt clouded his mind for a moment before the timer he had set pinged telling him the pasta was ready. He speared a piece with a knife and blew on it before taking a bit to make sure it was soft. Humming softly he placed the knife down and drained the pasta into the sink before pouring in the contents of a tub of pesto and stirring gently. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, with the Pasta thoroughly Blainified with various spices they made their way back into the sitting room and sat with bowls sat in their laps on the window seat.

"mmmmmm" his brother crooned, closing his eyes after his first bite.

"Good?" Blaine asked

"Divine. Honestly I don't know how you do it" he sprinkled some more parmesan across the top of his meal.

They ate in silence until both bowls were empty and then moved back to the kitchen to clean up. Blaine could sense Cooper watching him as he placed the bowls and pan in the dishwasher and set it to rinse. When he looked up he saw that his brother was staring at him with a look akin to curiosity on his face.

"What?" he was suddenly nervous, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands.

"Are you sure you're okay with this Blaine? This transfer?"

"Yeah. I mean it's a bit difficult and I have to work around having Italian outside of school but it's no harder than Dalton."

"Yeah but Blaine I know what you are like around you know, new people and all. You'd tell someone if you were struggling right?" Blaine was touched at his brother's genuine concern. It was times like this that he really appreciated that he had a brother like Cooper. Yeah they had there fair share of arguments but Coop had been there when the rest of his family hadn't been. Blaine had spent three weeks living with him after he came out to his parents. His father had always had violent tendencies but what had gone down that night was nothing like Blaine had ever seen. And it scared him. He winced at the memory but then smiled weakly up at his brother.

"Of course" he said, resigned "you'll be the first to know."

"And if Dad tries anything again-"

"You'll be the first to know" Blaine interrupted "I promise"

"C'mere little bro" he folded Blaine into a hug, rubbing his back "I've missed you."

"I missed you too Coop"

"Now" he said, pulling back "how about we stick a box set on and sit up all night?"

"Now that may be the best thing to leave your mouth all afternoon"

Blaine woke to the sound of Cooper snoring loudly from across the room. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear his sleep hazed vision, judging it to be near dawn from the silence surrounding the house. The darkest hour comes just before the dawn. He sat up; pushing the blanket he didn't remember draping himself in, off and sliding to his feet. He glanced over at his brother before he left the room, smiling at the way he was sprawled across the larger couch. He snaked his way through the house, stopping at the patio behind the kitchen, sliding the door open and stepping out into the morning air. It was still, almost humid. There was no noise, no distraction; just a slight hint of powder blue at the edge of the horizon. Blaine took a seat on the top step leading down onto the lawn, wrapping his arms around himself to keep the chill off. He took a deep breath, looking out over the garden and houses that lay beyond. Closing his eyes, he sat in thought.

Cooper was right, what his parents were doing was completely and utterly wrong. Dalton had been his home, his family. More of a family than his parents had ever been. Yes he had Cooper and yes he would go to his big brother if ever there was trouble but there were some things even his brother was un aware of. For years Blaine had felt like he was being tossed from place to place, never quite being able to find that niche that fit him snugly. It helped when he sang, when he wrote – that brought him a solace nothing else could but the simplicity of the matter was: Blaine simply didn't have a place he could call home anymore. He opened his eyes and turned back to the house looming behind him, nose wrinkling as he tried to picture it alongside the word. Somehow it just didn't fit. Home was supposed to be a place where he felt secure and warm and safe. His mind took him back to the night he had come out to his parents, the images swirling around his mind, his Mother sitting stiffly at the counter in shock, his father's hands shaking with rage. Blaine was used to his fathers usually alcohol induced rages but this time something was different and it scared the hell out of Blaine. He gasped out loud as the memory hit him full force and his throat tightened, hands balled tightly around the sweater at his waist. He heaved in a stuttered breath, shaking his head and willing the memory to disappear as he sank his fingers deeper into the fabric. After a moment the memory began to fade, taking with it Blaine's last restraint and resulting in a choked sob echoing across the dark grounds. He took deep breaths, loosening the grip on his sweater and instead grasping either side of his head in his hands. Slowly, he began to calm down, the tears coming more insistently than before.

He sensed rather than heard a presence behind him as Cooper slipped down to wrap his arms around Blaine.

"It's alright little Bro. we're going to get this sorted out" Blaine nodded into his brothers shoulder, his stomach sinking at the fact that little did everyone know, Blaine was much deeper than he was letting on.

"Kurt he was just rude"

"Oh come on Rachel he was just speaking the truth. Leave him alone. He's lovely."

"No, no Kurt he isn't he insulted me in front of the entire Glee club"

"mhmm" he murmured, placing the phone on the bed next to him and moving towards the bathroom to begin his evening facial regime. Rachel would drone on for another fifteen minutes or so without much need for Kurt to say a word and would eventually just ring off without a goodbye from him. Thank god she's so self centred she doesn't actually stop to see if I'm still listening.

As he massaged the cream into his skin, he thought back over the last week. Classes were as normal as normal could be, although there was that edge beginning to settle upon everyone's minds. This was it for them, the home stretch. One more year and they would be gone, finished. Even after all the shit he had endured, all the bullying, the slushies…he knew that he only had a year left of that torment before he would be free. Of course his NYADA audition and this years Glee competitions still stood between him and that final goal but what was life without a little challenge. Kurt liked to challenge himself, even if it did mean losing most of the time. He was too ambitious for his own good. With both feet firmly planted on the ground however, he considered himself to be doing okay.

The New Directions were still sulking after their loss as nationals before the summer, pulling everyone's moods down to the lowest degree. The only person who was seemingly happy about it was Mr Shue. Said it gave them drive or something. C'est typique.

Saturday had come quicker than he had expected that first week, lessons whizzing by as if every minute lasted a second. The pile of homework sat with his bag on the floor near his bedroom door spoke enough of how much their workload had increased. This year wasn't going to be easy, unfortunately. One bright beacon shining out from the darkness of the last fourteen days however was one bow tie wearing junior sporting that sad smile and charming demeanour.

He paused in his moisturising, chuckling lightly as he remembered the way Blaine dipped his head every time Kurt complimented him, or the way his cheeks flashed red when he was embarrassed. Four days he had known the guy, and he was already getting to know his little quirks.

"Kurt!" his stepmother's voice drifted through the door. "Your Dad wants to speak to you!"

"On my way!" he called back, before splashing his face with water, dabbing it dry with a towel and flicking the headband off his head into the bag set beside the sink. He stood slowly, humming to himself as he dropped the bathrobe from his shoulder to reveal the grey sweats beneath. Kurt wasn't one for wearing sweats in public (fashion disaster) but he had to admit they were the comfiest way to relax. Beauty sleep didn't come easy to him nowadays and so being as chilled as possibly before hand was a secure way to ensure he drifted off nice and easily. Kurt picked up the phone quickly, holding it to his ear to confirm that the line was dead and then dropped it back to the bed. He slipped down the stairs, grimacing slightly. Talks with his father were never the most pleasant of things. He had a great relationship with him, sure, but it had always been tense. What father and son lived in complete harmony anyway?

Burt Hummel was sat in the living room, sipping on a beer and flicking through the channels with the remote. When he heard Kurt approach he turned, blackening the tv screen with the press of a button and placing the beer down gently on the side table. Kurt glared at him

"Dad"

"What?" Burt replied, looking bewildered

"You shouldn't be drinking so much of that stuff. It'll heighten your cholesterol and we all know what that means…" he perched on the couch opposite, clasping his hands in his lap stiffly.

"Oh leave off bud, it's a Saturday night. I wanted to talk to you"

"Well yes, that would obvious"

"haha smartass. I wanted to know how school was. I've hardly had a chance to talk to you this week" he seemed to be trying his hardest to look interested, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs.

"School's…fine Dad. Just like normal. Why the sudden interest?" Kurt narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Just checking. What? Am I not allowed to be interested in my son's life?"

"Dad is this about Karofsky?" he wasted no time in getting to the point, if his Dad was intent on acting like this all year, he had another thing coming.

As predicted, his father blanched, stuttering and waving his hand in dismissal. Kurt rolled his eyes and had to hold back a sigh. That would only make things worse, he knew. To be honest, it was touching that his father cared. Before this stuff with Karofsky, Burt wouldn't have turned a second glance in the direction of his report cards, knowing his son would ace whatever was thrown at him. However, when things began to worsen and the school got involved, Burt finally began to realise how much of his son's life he had been missing. Apparently, he wasn't about to allow that to happen again.

"No…no I don't…of course not" he tried to laugh it off but Kurt saw straight through it. He fixed his father with an icy stare.

"Dad. Karofsky left, he's not going to bother me anymore." His gaze softened slightly. "I know you're worried, but I have Finn to look after me now remember? And Glee isn't exactly going to let me almost transfer again are they?" Burt laughed. "Honestly Dad. I'm fine. School's fine. Better than fine actually" his lip twitched at one corner as he remembered Blaine again. A slight blush began to creep up his neck. He cleared his throat, shaking Blaine from his thoughts.

"Alright, if you're sure" Kurt stood and tapped his father on the shoulder.

"I'm sure Dad. Is there any left over Pasta?"

"Yeah, Carol stuck it in the fridge."

"Okay" He stood there awkwardly for a moment, uneasy in the silence

"Well…good talk kiddo" Burt leant forward to pick up the remote.

"Goodnight dad" his father nodded in acknowledgment and turned his eyes to some game he had recorded a few days earlier. Boys and their sport.