Kurt didn’t think he’d ever ran as fast in his life. It took him two seconds to reach Blaine, who hadn’t made a move from the floor. Kurt skidded to a stop beside him, kneeling down in front of the shaking boy.
“Blaine! Blaine are you okay?” He said, laying a hand on the boys forearm, trying desperately to offer some comfort to the terrified boy, but not knowing how to do so. Blaine immediately jerked away from his touch, a muffled sob that he had been trying to hold back escaping. Kurt was trying not to panic. The exact same thing that had just happened to Blaine had happened many a time before to him, and he knew firsthand the pain and humiliation of being slammed into the lockers. Right now he didn’t know where Blaine was hurt, and how badly it was. And he needed to find out, soon. He decided to try and get through to Blaine again. No one else in this damn school were bothered.
Kurt didn’t notice Karofsky standing a little way down the corridor, a smirk on his face. He was watching Kurt kneeling next to the faggot he had just pushed, and was surprised. “So the new kid has a saviour?” He said quietly to himself, chuckling. “You’ll regret that, lady.” He turned away, striding down the corridor, the cruel smirk never leaving his face.
“Blaine, are you hurt? You need to tell me so I can help you.” Kurt said desperately, his voice pleading. Blaine’s body was shaking violently now from the soundless sobs he was making. Kurt felt…he didn’t know what he felt. Complete sympathy and empathy towards the boy he barely knew, and he wanted desperately to comfort him in some way. But it seemed Blaine was having none of it.
Slowly, the boy lifted his head from his hands. His features were twisted in pain, and there were tear tracks running down his face. And then Kurt noticed the gash on his forehead, red and bloody. Kurt’s eyes widened and he gasped, before turning his eyes back to Blaine’s, silently pleading with him to let him help, trying to show that he was in no way a threat.
But all Blaine saw was the deep sympathy that the boy was conveying with his eyes. Sympathy that he was not familiar with, and it scared him. Why would this boy want to help him, to comfort him? He stared into Kurt’s eyes, trying to find why Kurt was really trying to help him. Was he going to play the good guy until they were alone and hurt him again? Or was he trying to befriend him for some cruel, twisted reason, just like the kids back at his old school?
He was taking no chances. He roughly wiped the tears from his face, which contorted in pain when he accidently grazed the cut with his finger. He hadn’t realised the cut had been there, all he could feel was a throbbing, agonizing pain that seemed to come from deep within his head. But he struggled up from the ground, clinging onto the lockers for support, took one last look at Kurt who’s eyes had widened in shock, and ran down the corridor, the pain almost blinding him. He did not stop until he was as far away from Kurt as possible.

X X X X

Kurt slammed down onto his seat, all but throwing his salad down in front of him. He started stabbing the leaves, shoving them roughly into his mouth. He was angry. Angry at Karofsky, and most of all angry at himself. After Blaine had ran off, he had immediately tried to follow him. But he had lost him. Throughout the last four classes he had had, he paid absolutely no attention to the teacher and instead worried about Blaine. For all he knew, Blaine could be unconscious in an empty classroom. He could be facing the wrath of Karofsky and the other bullies, and this time, he might not get away with just a cut. Kurt almost broke down in tears at these thoughts. He felt this strange kind of affection for Blaine, even though he didn’t even know the boy. Maybe it was because he had looked so lost and frightened, or maybe it was…he didn’t know. All he knew was that it killed him to think of him in any pain, or alone.
He continued with his salad, a frown set upon his face. But then he remembered something. Something he had completely forgot about in his fury and sorrow.
Karofsky had called Blaine a faggot. Meaning, he was gay. Or so Karofsky thought. Could it be true, or had Karofsky just assumed?
Kurt mentally slapped himself. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about whether Blaine was gay or not, he was supposed to be trying to find a way to help him. Shoving the salad away from him, feeling to ill from worry to eat, he sat back in his seat just as Mercedes slid onto the seat opposite him.
“Hey Kurt! How’s your day been?” She said cheerily, placing her lunch tray down on the table and starting to tuck in.
Kurt gave a grunt in return, too drained to want to bother making conversation.
Mercedes frowned at her friend, whose brow was furrowed and was slowly kneading his temples with his fingers. He looked worried.
“That bad, huh? Want to talk about it?” She said in a soothing voice, leaning over to take Kurt’s hand that was resting on the table.
Kurt sighed. He really couldn’t bring himself to tell Mercedes about his day, and most of all, Blaine. “I’m fine, ‘Cedes, really.” He said with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just…it’s just been a stressful day.”
Mercedes smiled, and nodded, turning back to her food. She knew something was wrong with Kurt. They were best friends, and she could read him like a book. She often wondered if it was because of the bullying that Kurt didn’t seem like his old self.
“Mercedes?” Kurt said, breaking off Mercedes train of thought. He had had an idea, and was counting on his best friend for it to work. “Uh huh?” She said, through a mouthful of tots.
“Do you know…the new kid, Blaine. Do you know anything about him?” He said softly, not wanting anybody else to hear their conversation.
Mercedes frowned, trying to remember the snippets of conversation she had heard around school about the strange new boy.
“He…well, all I know his that he came from a school in Westerville. Dalton, I think it was. Let’s just say it’s not posh…” She trailed off, the couple of images of the school that she had seen flying into her head. The graffiti. The dilapidated buildings. The school was intimidating, filled with teenagers from schemes. Hard, rough kids. It was definitely not a place she ever wanted to be near, and from the frown on Kurt’s face, Mercedes guessed that he knew exactly what school she was talking about.
“He’s shy, quiet, hasn’t talked to anyone since he got here.” Well, Kurt thought. That wasn’t entirely true. They had shared a couple of words of conversation. Two on Blaine’s part, come to think of it.
“And he’s gay.” Mercedes continued, shoving another tot in her mouth, and chewing in earnest.
So he is gay? But how do they know…?
“How do you know he’s gay?” Kurt asked, unable to not voice the question. He was curious, and he knew it was wrong to be, but he couldn’t help it.
Mercedes swallowed. “A guy that transferred here months ago came from Dalton as well. The first minute he saw Blaine had transferred here too, he decided to out him to the whole school. Not a very good first day, huh?” She said, raising her eyebrows.
“That’s awful…” Kurt said, drifting off. He was trying to piece together what he knew about Blaine. It didn’t seem like he was having a very easy life. And why had he transferred? And why-?
Suddenly, Kurt noticed the same curly haired boy that he had spent all day thinking about sit at a lunch table across the room from him. He had a plate of food in front of him, but didn’t make any move to eat it. He looked better than before, but still lost and unhappy.
“Mercedes? Do you mind if I go try and talk to Blaine?” He said to the confused girl, eyes flickering over to Blaine every few seconds.
Mercedes turned around and followed his gaze, frowning. She too saw Blaine, sitting alone. “Um, sure Kurt, but why-?”
Kurt cut her off with a quick, “Thanks ‘Cedes!” Before rushing over towards Blaine, salad deserted.
He slowed his pace as he got nearer Blaine. He wanted to earn his trust, and rushing towards him like a lunatic wasn’t going to help in any way.
Blaine was staring at the table, lost in a daydream, and barely even noticed as Kurt stopped opposite him.
“Um…is someone sitting here?” Kurt said, cursing his voice for coming out so weak.
Blaine looked up, wondering who could possibly be talking to him. His eyes lit up with realisation as he saw the familiar boy standing before him, a strained smile on his face. Blaine knew Kurt wasn’t going to leave him alone, so he shook his head slightly, knowing full well that Kurt was going to take that as a sign for him to sit down. And he was right. He stared at the boy intently as he sat on the seat opposite him, trying yet again to find the familiar coldness that was directed at him from everyone else in this school, and was surprised to find none. He only saw concern. He shifted slightly in his seat, feeling awkward at the emotions in Kurt’s eyes once again. He didn’t know what to do.
“Are you…okay?” Kurt said softly, gaze shifting between Blaine’s wary hazel eyes and the gash that was on his forehead. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it looked really painful. Kurt felt a rush of hatred towards Karofsky as Blaine winced, as if Kurt mentioning the cut reminded him of the pain that came with it.
To Kurt’s surprise Blaine answered him, staring intently at Kurt, as if trying to figure out the secret he held.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He mumbled.
“Are you sure? It looks really sore.”
“I’m fine.” Blaine answered sharply. Kurt was rather taken aback at his tone. He wondered what he had done wrong. Maybe he was being too full on?
Blaine was slightly shocked at how that had came out too. If Kurt really was trying to be nice to him, why did he have this overwhelming urge to push him away? To run from him? But he supposed the boy had done nothing to merit this, and the least he could do was make polite conversation.
“Sorry, I’m just not having a very good day.” He said. At the same time as wanting to run away from Kurt, he also had this feeling that he should be nice to him. He hadn’t had a proper friend since he was a child. And what could be the harm in at least talking to the boy?
“I know. I’m sorry.” Kurt replied. He didn’t really know why he was apologizing, but he felt like he needed to. Maybe to just give Blaine some comfort. But he was getting through to him at least.
Blaine looked rather startled at this. He cocked his head to one side, frowning. “Why are you sorry?”
Kurt sighed, looking down at his lap. He decided to just come out with it.
“What happened to you… it’s happened to me. A lot of times actually.” He gave a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Karofsky, the guy who shoved you, is an arrogant pig and should be expelled for the things he does.”
Blaine was confused. Why would that guy, Karofsky, he corrected himself, shove Kurt into lockers? He had pushed Blaine because he was…gay. But why would he shove Kurt?
“Why?” He asked, a few moments later. Kurt gave him a confused look, not understanding the question.
“I mean, why does he hurt you?” Kurt almost laughed at Blaine’s obliviousness, but stopped himself, smiling instead.
“Because I’m gay, Blaine. And as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he’s extremely homophobic.”
Blaine’s eyes widened in surprise. Kurt was…gay? But then he noticed his extravagant clothes and perfectly fixed hair. Oh. How he had he not noticed? So that meant Kurt…was like him? He had never met another guy who was gay before, and he suddenly felt really awkward again. Kurt just stared at him, confused by his reaction. Suddenly the bell rang, and everyone started getting up, voices all merging into one. Monotonous. Customary, really.
Blaine and Kurt scraped their chairs back at the same time, Blaine leaving his uneaten lunch on the table.
“What do you have?” Kurt asked hesitantly, back to not knowing where he stood with Blaine.
“English.” He stated simply.
“Me too.” Said Kurt, walking with Blaine beside him down the corridor towards the English department. They walked in silence, neither one knowing what to say or do.
Suddenly, Kurt heard an all too familiar voice beside him, sending shivers up his spine.
“Alright, ladies?” He said with a sneer, Kurt turned to look at him, trying not to let the fear show in his eyes.
And Karofksy’s triumphant face was the last thing he saw before he went flying backwards, head hitting the floor, and was knocked out cold.