Blaine couldn't be sure how long he sat in his car and stared out through the windshield. He clutched his bag tightly on his lap, and watched as students trickled through the parking lot. He glanced at the clock on his dash and then squeezed his eyes shut; he took a long breath, in and then out. Reaching blindly for the handle, he opened the car door and stepped out.

Blaine opened his eyes and stared at two large red doors, propped open to welcome students back for another year at McKinley High School. Or for Blaine, his first year at McKinley.

And his second attempt at Junior year.

Blaine stared at the doors until he was pretty sure his converse were going to take root in the parking lot pavement. His stomach was twisted in knots and he was breathing hard, desperately trying not to panic at the thought of public school and everything that came with it.

Blaine flinched violently when someone clipped his shoulder ("Sorry, dude"), and he starting walking forward on auto-pilot. He kept his head down and his eyes open as he crossed the threshold, and tried to convince himself he was braver than he actually was.

--

"Kurt!"

Kurt turned from his locker to see Puck and Finn making their way toward him, several other guys from the football team walking behind him. He smiled and nodded at them as he unloaded some of his books from his bag.

"Hey, man!" Puck said, grinning as he offered Kurt his fist.

"Dude," Kurt replied, reaching over to knock knuckles with Puck, smiling as if he hadn't just seen him the night before. Finn had insisted on a “Last Night of Summer Video Game Marathon.”

"Hey guys," Dave said, appearing next to Finn with Mike and Sam.

"Hey Dave," Kurt said with a grin, putting out his hand, palm up.

Dave slapped his hand playfully down on Kurt’s open palm.

"Come on, bro," Finn said, clapping on hand of Kurt's shoulder. "We gotta get to first period."

--

After finally finding the main office, Blaine had a map of the school, his class schedule, and a locker assignment. After a few more confused minutes, he managed to find said locker, and even get it open. He sighed with relief as he unloaded a few of his things into his locker, some books for the second half of the day, and a spare notebook. 

Ready for first period, Blaine shut his locker and hooked his backpack over his shoulder. He turned down the hall towards where he believed his class to be, but he stopped in his tracks as a wall of boys in letterman's jackets walked towards him.

For a terrifying moment, Blaine was sure the other boys were coming for him. At his old school Blaine had come to fear any boy in a letterman’s jacket. Blaine had lost count of how many times one of the jocks had slammed him into a locker, or worse. So he could barely move for fear as the boys approached him, but none of them seemed to even notice Blaine. 

At least, none except one particular boy in the middle of the group with perfect skin and amazing blue eyes. 

Blaine couldn't help but stare as the group of boys passed him and the other boy returned his gaze with curiosity. Blaine knew that he should look away, knew it was dangerous to stare at another boy, but he simply couldn't tear his eyes away. The boy was stunning, tall and slim, with shoulders that filled his jacket perfectly.

For an intense moment, the boy's eyes seemed to bore into Blaine's mind. But the other boy looked away and he and his friends walked past Blaine without a word. Blaine shook his head and rubbed unconsciously at his ribs, as if rubbing away a phantom ache. It was a compulsive habit, born of a long and painful recovery.

Blaine knew better than to crush on a straight boy.

--

Kurt walked into his first period classroom, A.P. English, with Puck and Finn trailing behind him, avidly debating the upcoming football tryouts. 

When Finn and Puck had agreed to take A.P. English, Kurt had been suitably shocked. Apparently, Kurt’s influence was doing them some good. 

Kurt found a few seats in the back and dropped into one, slinging his rather expensive backpack over his chair. Kurt sunk low in his seat and propped his feet on the chair rung in front of him, taking a moment to admire his brand new Vans. They may not be what Kurt would have purchased if he had the freedom to wear anything he wanted, but he liked them well enough.

In a year, Kurt would be in New York and he would be able to wear anything he wanted. He dreamed of Marc Jacobs and Alexander McQueen, and the freedom to wear his own creations. But until then he would settle for working on his designs in secret and dreaming of his future high fashion wardrobe. 

Puck slumped into his seat on Kurt’s left while Finn took the seat on the right, and both boys leaned forward to continue their conversation across Kurt's desk. Students slowly trickled into the room, and Kurt's mind drifted to the boy he had seen in the hallway. The boy was strikingly beautiful, with honey colored eyes and dark gel-slicked hair. Kurt was sure he had never seen him before- he must be new to the school. The boy had been staring at him, but Kurt figured it was probably too much to hope that the boy was gay. There was surely a perfectly normal explanation for the way the boy had looked at Kurt. 

Kurt's eyes went wide and his hand flew to his face.

"Do I have something on my face? Or in my hair?" Kurt demanded, turning to his brother.

"What? No," Finn said, looking confused. "Uh, anyway, Schue wants us to sing something at lunch today," he said, changing the topic as he dug through his backpack, The bag was somehow already a mess on the first day of school. “He wants us to drum up some auditions.”

Kurt groaned. "Doesn't he know that shit like that is bad for our image?" He scowled. Kurt's reputation was very carefully calculated, designed to keep him popular and on top of the pack. This was no easy feat, since he was gay and out.

"Fuck, I think he does it on purpose," Puck scoffed, dropping his feet on the desk in front of him. His shoes were new, as well. Kurt had forced both Puck and Finn to shop for clothes the week prior. He always insisted it was key to maintaining their status, and no one was better at dressing for popularity than Kurt.

"Puckerman!"

Puck muttered under his breath about grouchy English teachers and put his feet back on the floor with a thump.

"We'll come up with something." Finn said, grinning just a bit goofy. "We always do."

--

Blaine compared the room number on the door to the list in his hand, before warily slipping into his first period calculus class. His eyes scanned the room, automatically cataloguing the other teens in the room. He went straight to an empty seat in the back corner, well away from a pair of boys in letterman's jackets that sat on the other side of the room. One was Asian, the other a shaggy blond, and they both gave Blaine a curious look. Blaine shot back a defensive glare before dropping into his seat, pulling out a notebook and a pen.

Over the years, Blaine had adopted an air of “not giving a shit” when in reality he never let his guard down for a moment. Blaine doodled aimlessly in the margins of his notebook while his eyes flitted about his peripheral vision, watching the kids that continued to wander into the room. Blaine was painfully aware that there was no teacher in the room yet, and he knew that put him at risk.

A Latina girl in a red cheerleaders outfit marched into the room, head held high and ponytail swinging. She walked right to the back and dropped into the seat next to Blaine, one of the few left open in the room. Her backpack hit the desk with a loud enough thump to make Blaine jump a bit in his seat.

Blaine stiffened. In his experience, anyone in a uniform was to be avoided, even the girls.

"You're new," the girl stated. Her voice had a bit of an edge to it, but there was curiosity there as well.

"Yep," Blaine replied, not lifting his head. He was still doodling, a simple collection of geometric shapes, nothing of any particular meaning. It was one of his many defense mechanisms, something for him to do, a reason to avoid talking to people. He used to wear headphones, but his first iPhone had been broken when someone grabbed the cord and yanked hard enough to send it flying across the room.

Blaine could feel the girl's eyes boring into him, studying him and trying to figure him out. He tried to ignore her, and only relaxed a little bit when the teacher walked into the room. He finally lifted his head to stare straight at the board, determined to pay attention, despite the fact that he already knew the first five weeks of the material. 

The teacher took roll, and when he got to Blaine's name, he silently raised a hand in response.

"Quiet one, aren't you, Blainers?" The girl next to him whispered, leaning in far too close for his liking. 

Blaine finally looked at her, and tried to give her a sneer, hoping it said leave me alone.

She just smiled at him, and he was annoyed at how pretty she was. Pretty meant she had power, power that she could use against him if she wanted to. Pretty was dangerous. 

The teacher called her name, Santana Lopez, and she lifted a perfectly manicured hand in the air.

"Here."

--

"I really don't see how we're supposed to come up with something great at the last minute," Tina complained, glancing nervously at the crowded cafeteria. 

New Directions stood in a small cluster in the hallway, together again for the first time since the barbecue that Kurt and Finn had thrown in July. They were all happy to see each other, but more than a little nervous. Despite the popularity of certain New Directions members, the Glee club had rarely been received well by the school.

"We'll just sing something we already know," Kurt said, shrugging, trying to appear confident for the sake of his friends. "It's not as if anyone in there has been to any of our competitions."

"And we can just improv the choreography," Mike provided. "I'm sure that Britt and I can pull out something slick."

There was a murmur of agreement in the small group. Kurt could admit that it was nice to be back together for the year, and as much as he hated performing for the school, a small part of him was excited to sing with his friends for the first time in months.

"See!" Kurt grinned, "We got this. Now, what are we going to sing?"

--

Blaine hated eating in the cafeteria. There were so many things that could go wrong when he was carrying a lunch tray, so many different ways that he could end up with his lunch on himself or on the floor.

Tray in hand, Blaine carefully skirted around the edge of the room, avoiding anyone who could trip him or knock his tray into his face. He found a partially empty table in the back corner and took a seat, quickly starting to eat in hopes of getting the hell out of the cafeteria as soon as possible. 

Blaine paused mid bite when music started to play through the stereo system, and he glanced around, confused. He then noticed a bouncy group of about a dozen teens assembled at the head of the lunch room, including several boys in letterman’s jackets. 

Blaine's stomach flipped when he recognized the blue eyed boy he had seen earlier that day.

The group started singing Michael Jackson’s “Black or White”. And they were good, really good, and Blaine couldn't help but stare. They were such a strange collection of kids, different colors, different creeds; there was even a kid in a wheel chair. But they were truly amazing to watch, and Blaine felt something stir in him that had been missing for months. Blaine had been forced to drop out of his Glee club after the attack, and even though he had never been terribly close with any of his teammates, he still missed performing.

Blaine also took the time to check out that one particular boy. His style had a bit of a hard edge to it, with dark wash jeans and rocker print grey tee shirt peaking out from under his unsnapped jacket. Blaine was pretty sure he spotted a studded, black leather belt. And the boy could sing; his voice was stunning and Blaine could listen to him sing for days. 

He’s straight, Blaine, stop staring! His mind tried to pry his eyes away, but it was useless.

Someone shouted something, and Blaine turned towards a group of boys, all wearing Hockey jerseys. They all looked far less than impressed, a few of them were even pointing and sneering. Something about the nasty looks on their faces made Blaine's shoulders tense up. 

The song finished and Blaine clapped when they were done, although strangely, almost no one else in the room did. The short girl with the long dark hair climbed onto a table and announced they were holding auditions that afternoon in the choir room, and she seemed really excited about it. Someone threw a biscuit at her head, but she ducked it, and the group of singers quickly cleared the room. That was the end of it; the normal lunch room buzz returned as if nothing had happened. 

Blaine still stared at where the singers had been, not sure why he felt as if his world had just shifted.

--

"Ugh, fuck that shit," Kurt sneered, brushing invisible lint off the sleeve of his jacket as New Directions split up in the hallway, each headed to different classes. He had weight-training with the boys after lunch, and he walked with Finn and Puck flanking him, Sam and Mike chatting as they trailed behind them. Kurt couldn't shake the feeling they had barely dodged a food fight, given the way the hockey boys had been glaring at them.

"I dunno, I thought it went pretty good." Finn shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. 

Puck barked a laugh, "Yeah-fuckin'-right, dude," he glowered at nothing in particular and shook his head. "Whatever, we're totally top dogs in this shit hole. As long as Schue doesn't ask us to do that every damn day, we'll be fine."

Kurt was silent the rest of the way to class, only half listening as Puck and Finn rambled about the upcoming football season. Instead, he let his mind wander back to the gel-slicked head of dark curls. He was sure he had spotted that boy, sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria. 

--

Blaine stood outside the door to the choir room, just off to the side, making sure no one could see him through the open door. He had been standing there for ages, just thinking about maybe going in. He had run through it a dozen times in his mind; he knew exactly what he would say and what song he would sing, he had it all worked out.

Except, what would he do tomorrow? What would he do when he was no longer the nameless new kid, but the new kid who signed up for Glee. Despite the mix of cool kids in the group, it was clear to Blaine that this was not a popular club. All day he'd heard people laughing about the performance at lunch, about how it was so nerdy, so not cool. 

So gay.

If Blaine joined the New Directions, he might as well just get on the P.A. system and introduce himself as the new gay kid. And no matter how much Blaine hated hiding who he was and refused to lie if anyone asked him outright, he just wasn't sure if he was ready to advertise the fact. Wasn't sure if he was ready for the onslaught of bullying to start all over.

"Well guys, I don't think anyone is coming today." A male voice drifted in from the room, and it sounded like the teacher.

"Let's at least wait until four, that's the end of the time frame in which we advertised the auditions." A prim sounding female voice came from inside the room.

Blaine kicked at the floor and rubbed at his ribs. He wanted to walk in there, he could feel it tugging on him, but he just couldn't make himself move.

"You here for the auditions?"

Blaine looked up, startled. There was a boy in a letterman’s jacket with hair shaved into a Mohawk, standing in front of him and watching him curiously. Blaine's eyes grew wide and his heart started to pound; everything about the way this boy looked set off every alarm in his mind.

"What? Uh, no, um, I was just leaving," Blaine stuttered, turning to walk quickly away from the choir room. 

He only let out the breath he was holding when he was sure he didn't hear footsteps following him.