"How was your first day of school?"

Blaine shrugged, face buried in his book. He'd been in his room all night, just reading.

"Blaine."

Blaine looked up at his father, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. His eyes went back to his book.

"Yes, Dad?" Blaine replied, voice purposefully flat and disinterested.

Blaine’s father studied him, leaning against the frame of Blaine’s door, keeping his distance as usual.

"I said, how was your first day of school?" John Anderson’s voice was harsh and a hint of a sneer flickered across his face.

"It was fine," Blaine said, going back to his book. Ignoring his father was usually a good way to make him disappear. 

"Just fine?" John asked, sounding irritated.

 "Yeah," Blaine replied. "Fine."

John was quiet for a moment, considering his son with a sour look on his face.

“Just make sure you’re keeping your ‘choices’ to yourself this time,” Mr. Anderson said, voice angry where there should have been concern. “Having a queer son is bad enough, I don’t need another hospital bill to deal with.”

Blaine looked up, hurt despite his best defenses, but his father was already gone.

--

"I can't believe that nobody came to audition yesterday," Finn grumbled with his mouth full, taking another huge bite of his burrito. 

Kurt gaped at his brother for a moment then turned away with a shake of his head. Sadly, more than three years living together hadn't done much to improve Finn's manners.

"We almost had one," Puck replied, gesturing with his fork. "That new kid was standing around outside the room yesterday, but he didn't have to guts to come in."

That got Kurt's attention. "Which new kid?" he asked, looking at Puck.

"The one over in the corner, wearing the bow-tie," Puck said, jerking his head towards the far side of the room. 

Kurt couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the boy with the dark hair, sitting by himself at the furthest table from them. Kurt had been looking for him all day, trying to catch a glimpse of the warm hazel eyes he'd seen the day before.

"That's Blaine Anderson," Santana said, leaning into their conversation. "He's in my  Calc class." She arched an eyebrow. "He's kinda boring, just keeps to himself."

Kurt frowned, watching the boy, Blaine, as he finished his lunch and quickly slipped out of the room. Blaine's face was clouded with something dark, and his eyes flicked around the room as he walked briskly away.

"I'm gonna recruit him," Kurt declared, turning back to the others.

"What?" Santana demanded. "What the hell makes you think that Blanderson can sing? He doesn't even talk!"

Kurt shrugged, "I don't know, instinct?" He looked back at where Blaine had disappeared. "Besides, if we want to win Nationals this year, which we do." He paused and sent a pointed look around the table. "We need all the help we can get. Maybe he'll be good?"

--

Blaine’s eyes tracked warily as he made his way towards his next class. He hated quiet hallways, they were an ambush waiting to happen. With most of the students still at lunch, the rest of the school was empty.

He was looking for his next class period when he took a wrong turn and ended up in the gym. He was glad that as a Junior he was past the age of mandatory gym class and he didn’t have to tolerate the constant abuse that came with the locker rooms.

Backtracking into the hall, Blaine noticed an adjoining room and he stepped up to the small window in the door. He couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw something he could truly appreciate.

A boxer’s punching bag, hanging from the ceiling of a fully equipped weight room.

--

"Jesus, Hummel, how the hell do you do that?"

Kurt smirked at Puck as he stood on one foot and stretched his kicking leg up above his head. Kurt and the boys were warming up for football tryouts, and Kurt was feeling more than a little confident, since no one even bothered to go up against him for kicker this year. 

"Hummel! Let's see it!"

Kurt grinned and trotted out onto the field. He easily put the ball through the posts, several times. 

"Amazing, kid! As always," Coach Beiste said with a grin, slapping Kurt on the back a little too hard. "Go ahead and get out of here, if you want."

"Thanks, Coach!" Kurt said, walking quickly off the field. 

Kurt participated in all the normal drills during practice, for team unity and all that jazz.  But Coach had given him permission to skip it for tryouts, since all she really needed to see was his kicking. His dad was short-handed at the shop that afternoon and he needed Kurt's help. 

Kurt’s dad was an incredibly busy man. He somehow managed to run his shop, Hummel Tires and Lube, and maintain his seat in Congress. Burt spent a lot of time in Washington, and when he was home he was almost always at the shop. 

Back in the locker room, Kurt quickly changed out of his gear and into his street clothes. As he left he passed the weightlifting room, and he was surprised to hear a rhythmic sound coming from the room; the muffled sound of fists striking the punching bag drifted through the door. 

Kurt paused and peered through the small window in the door. His eyebrows shot up when he recognized Blaine, the very same new kid he had been planning to recruit for  Glee.

Kurt could admit a good portion of him wanted to recruit the boy because of how beautiful he was. Kurt would not mind seeing him every day. Even if the boy was straight, which he most likely was, it didn't hurt to look. Right?

Kurt's hand was on the door handle, about to open it and stride in, when something stopped him. 

Blaine's whole body radiated anger, deep and intense. Each hit was hard and fast, fists connecting with speed and strength. Blaine's face was contorted with rage, and sweat dripped from his face. It was apparent that he'd been at it for a while. 

Kurt pulled his hand back, suddenly reluctant to disturb the other boy. But at the same time, Kurt felt drawn to Blaine; he wanted, needed, to reach out to him. Kurt didn't even know him, but somehow it was as if Kurt's happiness was intrinsically tied to Blaine's. It hurt him to see the other boy so visibly upset. 

With a heavy sigh and a frown, Kurt turned from the door and kept moving down the hall. He needed a plan.

--

Blaine's fists pounded into the bag. One two, one two, one two three. Blaine felt the satisfaction that came with each hit, so hard that his knuckles ached. If he tried hard enough, maybe they'd even bruise. 

Cold cement, hard fists, brutal boots...

Never again. 

As the anger slowly drained from him, Blaine was left with only a raw determination. Determination to never be left defenseless again, never allow himself to fall victim again.

Never again.

--

The next day at lunch, Kurt stood in the empty hall outside Sue Sylvester's office. He knew what he was doing was beyond reckless, but something was compelling him forward. He peeked into the blinds of the room, making sure it was dark and empty. 

He glanced down the hall again as he pulled his library card out of his back pocket, and slipped it into the crack between the door and the wall. As he jimmied the lock open, he was grateful for the school’s poor budget that only allowed for cheap locks.

--

For the third day in a row, Blaine was eating lunch by himself. People had pretty much left him alone and Blaine was too relieved by this to even bother being lonely. He would gladly keep to himself if it meant keeping himself safe.

"Is someone sitting here?"

Blaine's head shot up, more than a little startled to find beautiful blue eyes looking back at him. 

"Um, no," Blaine managed, surprised by the boy’s sudden appearance. There was no way a boy so gorgeous was going to want to talk to him, this was probably the set-up to some cruel prank.

"Thanks!" 

The boy smiled and sat down across from Blaine. In person he didn’t quite look like your typical jock. He had all of the mannerisms and confidence, but he was missing a certain brutish element that Blaine was used to seeing. When he spoke his voice was so much kinder, not nearly as deep and menacing as most football players.

The boy had a lunch tray with him, and he put it down in front of him. It had two paper coffee cups on it, and the boy picked one up and slid it across the table to Blaine.

Blaine stared at the cup, dumbfounded.

"Just drink it!" The boy laughed. "I had to break into coach Sylvester's office to make that, you know. She has the only espresso machine in the school."

Blaine was hypnotized by the way the boy's eyes sparkled and he was too distracted to remember to be suspicious. He just silently took a sip of his drink. It was delicious.

"My name's Kurt," the boy said, offering out a hand to shake.

"Blaine," he replied, taking the boy’s hand hesitantly. 

When Blaine’s hand touched Kurt a shiver of electricity passed through him, and he sat up straighter in his chair. He suddenly felt as if every nerve in his body had just woken up after years of sleep. Kurt’s hand was warm and firm, and his grip was sure. The touch was so simple, yet it made Blaine feel alive.

Blaine didn’t think he had been touched by anyone since the doctors in the hospital. And before that had been...

"It's nice to meet you, Blaine." Kurt grinned, still gripping his hand.

"Likewise," Blaine barely whispered, then pulled his back when he realized how long he had been holding Kurt’s hand.

"So, what brings you to McKinley?" Kurt asked, face friendly and curious.

Blaine's mind crashed back to reality, with what felt like a punch to the chest. Somehow, talking to Kurt had made Blaine temporarily forget every bad memory and every reason why he should not be talking to a boy in a letterman's jacket.

Yet somehow, Blaine just knew he could trust Kurt. Blaine felt inexplicably drawn to the boy and he felt compelled to confide in him.

"I, um, I - I had to leave my old school." Blaine stammered a bit, not sure how much he wanted to share. "There were these guys." Blaine stared at his coffee cup. "They didn't like me. Or who I was, I guess. They made my life a living hell."

"I'm so sorry," Kurt whispered, and when Blaine looked up, his eyes were full of concern and compassion.

"So I left and I came here." Blaine shrugged, ducking his eyes back down. He really didn't know why he had even said that much.

"I'm glad you did," Kurt said softly, then cleared his throat. "Since your old school was so terrible."

Blaine gave him a small smile and sipped his coffee.

"Anyway," Kurt segued. "My mission here has two parts, part one was to welcome you to McKinley, so welcome to our lovely school." His voice had a slightly sarcastic lilt to it, and he grinned at Blaine. "The second was to convince you to audition for Glee club."

"Glee?" Blaine nearly squeaked, and he coughed. "Um, why is that?"

"My friend, Puck, said he saw you standing around outside the choir room on the first day of school. We thought you might have been interested."

Blaine frowned. "Well, I mean, I was thinking about it." He rubbed at his ribs and ducked his eyes, "But, um, I don't know if it's a good idea. I've been, you know, bullied before. And I don't really want to invite that again."

Blaine dared a glance up at Kurt. He was worried he may have offended the boy, but Kurt just smiled back kindly.

"I know that the glee club isn't the most popular place to be, but the school mostly leaves us alone. Although, I'll admit, there are a few guys who really don't like us." Kurt glanced over at the boys in hockey jerseys before he turned back to Blaine and leaned in a bit closer, eyes bright with something Blaine couldn't place. "But we take care of our own, you know? You don't have to be alone, Blaine."

Blaine's heart ached, and he gave Kurt a small smile. Maybe, maybe he could have one real friend here.

"Come audition for us this afternoon," Kurt prodded. "Please?"

--

"Listen up, we got ourselves an auditioner!"

Kurt looked up from his choir room seat and grinned when he saw his brother leading Blaine into the room. The boy looked rather nervous and his eyes darted back and forth. Blaine’s obvious nerves made Kurt want to wrap him up in his arms and reassure him that he would be great.

Whoa, where did that come from? Kurt blinked and tried to clear his head.

Blaine flushed a bit when the whole room looked up at him, and his arms wrapped around his waist defensively. 

"‘Auditioner’ isn't a word," Rachel admonished, hopping up from her seat to greet Blaine. "New Directions auditions were two days ago. However, at Kurt's insistence, we have agreed to let you audition late. Would you like to sing?"

Blaine appeared a bit overwhelmed, but he managed to smile. "Yes. Can I use the piano?"

"Of course!" Rachel smiled brightly and returned to her seat with an unnecessary flourish.

Blaine moved over to the piano and Brad offered him his spot on the bench with a wave of his hand. Blaine sunk down on the seat, hands falling to the keys automatically. 

Kurt watched intently as Blaine began to play, and shortly after, to sing. His voice was wonderful, on-pitch and beautiful, and his tone had a slightly rough edge as if he was a little out of practice. Kurt recognized the song immediately, despite the slower tempo and acoustic arrangement.

"You think I'm pretty, without any make up on. You think I'm funny, when I tell the punch-line wrong. I know you get me, so I let my walls come down. Down." Blaine sang without making eye contact with anyone. "Before I met you, I was alright, but things were kinda heavy." Blaine's body and posture began to relax as the song progressed. The stiffness in his shoulders faded, and his movements became more fluid and natural. 

"I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece," Blaine sang. His eyes lifted from the piano keys and he looked right at Kurt. "I'm complete." His eyes were bright for a moment, and Kurt saw a glimmer of happiness that he hadn't seen there before.

Blaine put even more of himself into the song, allowed it to pick up tempo a little. His eyes dropped to the keys again, but as if he couldn’t resist he looked up at Kurt again and grinned.

"My heart stops, when you look at me. Just one touch, now baby I believe. This is real." Blaine seemed to remember himself, and he pulled his eyes away from Kurt, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

That was very interesting. Kurt felt his pulse quicken at the implication.

"So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!”

--

After his song, Blaine was quickly welcomed into the group with an instant consensus. Everyone was grinning at him, including Kurt, but Blaine was trying not to look at him. He was more than a little embarrassed with how he had been carried away by the song; he had actually kind of flirted with Kurt for a moment. 

Blaine took a seat at the edge of the room and was quiet through the rest of the class. He watched as the short girl with the dark hair, Rachel, sang a ballad with the beautiful black girl, whose name he didn't know. Afterward, the teacher talked for a while about his strategy to get them to nationals that year and then they did some vocal exercises.

When it was all over, Blaine tried to slip from the room as quickly as he could.

"Hey, Blaine!"

Blaine blushed as Kurt ran up alongside him, before slowing his pace to walk with him. This was surely when Kurt would tell him to leave him alone and please not flirt with him, or something considerably less kind.

"You were really good!" Kurt said, instead, and actually slung an arm around Blaine's shoulders, giving him a brief squeeze.

Blaine stopped breathing. Kurt’s arm across his shoulders was heavy, yet somehow it made his whole body feel lighter, as if his body was trying to float up to meet the touch. Blaine suddenly felt warm from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.

"Just thought you should know that." Kurt smiled at him, his arm on Blaine's shoulders for another moment before he pulled away and clapped Blaine on the back. "See you tomorrow," he said, before he turned to catch up to Puck and Finn.

Blaine started breathing again with a small gasp, turning to watch Kurt walk away with his friends. He closed his eyes and grasped at the memory of Kurt's arm around his shoulders, so warm and protective. 

Blaine groaned and turned away to keep walking. Don’t crush on straight boys, right. 

He was so screwed.