I walked through the hall of McKinley high like any other day. Santana, who'd be acting really weird lately come to think of it, was walking next to me as usual. Sometimes she had her girlfriend, Brittany, walking beside her, but today it was just us. I'd entertained the idea of asking her what was wrong, but the last time I did she actually told me; like, with a lot of detail. I think she did it so I'd never ask again. That's Santana for you.

We stopped at my locker so that I could get my AP history book and to readjust my bowtie. It felt off for some reason, but everything kind of felt off. I usually don't care about appearances that much; I do, but not as obsessively as some people I know.

I put in my locker combo, opened the door and looked into the small mirror I had hung onto the inside wall. I sighed and grabbed my book quickly. "Do I look okay?" I asked her, still staring into the mirror. "I look like crap, don't I...?"

"You look fine," she muttered. Shit, no rude or offensive comment. Something really must be wrong with her...

I closed the locker door and leaned against it. "You're just saying that to get me to shut up."

"You catch on so fast, Anderson," she said, looking away from her red, perfectly manicured, nails to look at me.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I'm serious, Santana. He's in my next class." Santana blinked a few times.

"He? He who?" she asked almost sweetly. God, she can be such a bitch.

"You know perfectly well who," I grumbled.

She rolled her eyes and leaned at the space next to me. "Whatever," she muttered, going back to picking at her nail polish.

"Are you okay?" I asked hesitantly. She didn't look up from her nail polish, she only shrugged. At first I thought she was actually going to give me an answer, but she didn't. "Because I know you. Well. We've been friends since we were nine. I know when you're upset."

"And I know when you're hopelessly and annoyingly in love," she returned, turning her head to give me one of her bitch glares. You'd think after the first one-hundred times of being on the other side of them you'd be used to it. "And I know that when you are this stupidly in love, you get all mushy and gross. You're pissed that my bad mood is dampening your perfect little love parade."

"Santana, that isn't true and you know it. I'm worried about you. You've been really... weird for a while."

"I'm PMS-ing."

"For the last month and a half?" I asked, catching onto her quite obvious lie. She was usually a pretty good liar. Like, a really good liar. She could lie to almost anyone and they'd believe her because of how convincing she was; usually only Brittany and I could tell. She was my best friend after all, even if she was a bitch some... well, most, of the time.

She rolled her eyes and stood up straight. "I need to get to class," she grumbled and turned away from me, her red and white skirt swishing as she walked away quickly.

"Santana, wait!" I called after her, but she was already gone. I tried to catch up with her but she was way too fast. I swear, that girl is inhumanly fast. Try running with her during gym class, it's impossible to keep up with her.

I sighed and looked at my watch. The bell was supposed to ring in about a minute and if I was late to History one more time Ms. Jensen would probably have my head on a platter. I looked in the way that Santana had walked away and wondered, again, what her problem was.

Whatever, I'd ask Brittany about it later.

-0-

History was probably one of my favorite classes. Not because of what we learned and definitely not because of the teacher; it was because of who sat next to me. Sometimes I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around him in the middle of class, but that'd probably be a little-or a lot-creepy, so instead I try to find ways to talk to him. I usually end up making an insane fool of myself, but it's so worth it to be able to talk to him. Even if it's only for about four seconds before Jensen realizes I'm not paying attention. Luckily, we sat near the back of the class, so when I was in one of my dreamy moods I could just stare at him out of the corner of my eye. I don't think he ever noticed ever, so that was a plus.

I really admired Kurt, too. See, he was one of those kids that never paid attention in class, yet it seemed he always got perfect scores on tests and quizzes. I don't see how though, like I said, he never pays attention, he never does homework, and I highly doubt he studies considering he doesn't take notes. He doesn't even take the study guides the teacher hands out, much less fill it out. It made no sense to me.

I can't really pinpoint when I started to feel like this about him. The first time I saw him, maybe. Seriously, he's got to be the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. I'd call him an angel, but there's something... dark about him. He never smiles, he always seems to be in a somber mood and... and there's just something about him that I can't explain. He's got this really weird, yet intoxicating, aura about him.

I felt him tap me on the arm gently, my whole body erupting in sparks of electricity as he did so. I snapped out of my daze and looked over to him. I was about to say something until he pointed at Ms. Jensen.

"Mr. Anderson, I've been asking you the same question for the last ten seconds." Her nasally voice rang throughout the room. Hearing her voice was enough to ruin any amazing fantasies I was having about the beautiful boy sitting beside me.

The one who'd just touched my arm.

"Uh... Oh. Could you repeat it... or, something?" I asked, the classroom erupting in laughter and idiotic snickers. I could feel my face turning as red as one of the cheerio's uniforms.

She sighed and crossed her bony arms. "I asked you what happened in Europe before the Renaissance period started."

Why the fuck do I need to know that? I thought. I knew the answer, I think, but I couldn't answer because, 1) I was too embarrassed to speak and 2) I was still jittery from Kurt touching my arm. Also there was the fact that I didn't give a shit.

"The Bubonic Plague," Kurt spoke up. It was probably the longest thing I'd ever heard him say. His voice was as beautiful and he was, even if there was a certain amount of unamusement in it.

"Mr. Hummel, I don't believe I asked you," she snapped at him.

I expected Kurt to just roll his eyes and stop talking, but he didn't. He raised his brow in another sign of clear unamusement. "Well, I answered, now didn't I?" The class erupted in various noises and laughter. The Nazi snapped at them to quiet down; only out of fear did they listen to her.

"Mr. Hummel, I don't ask a lot of this class-"

"That's fucking bullshit," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for everyone and God to hear it.

"What was that?" She nearly shrieked, the horrible sound enough to give you nightmares for a month.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I not speak loud enough for you?" He asked sarcastically, before sitting up from his seat where he'd once been slouching. "I said that's fucking bullshit!" he fired at her, his voice louder than hers, which I honestly didn't know was possible.

The whole class-including me, but that wasn't anything new-was staring at him. I think they were expecting him to say something more to her, but he didn't. He just... sat there and glared at her. Jensen, for once, was at a loss for words for once. After a few seconds she seemed to have gotten her crap together and started to reprimand him.

"I-I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"Lemme guess, go to the office?" he asked with more unamusement in his voice. "Wow, big fucking deal, I'm horrified," he said with a roll of his eyes. He stood up and started out of his room, not needing to take anything with him considering he never brought anything to class other than a pen once and a while.

Ms. Jensen started to say something else to him, but he kept walking out of the room. The whole class sat in their seats, half of them in awe the other half laughing and joking among one another about what had just went down.

The rest of class went on in a blur. I kept wondering why Kurt had exploded at the teacher like he had. Was he having a bad day? Was he just tired of her bullshit, like every other student she taught, and just didn't want to deal with her? Or... was it me?

No. It couldn't be me. Why would it be me? Hell, he barely noticed me...

-0-

I looked for Kurt everywhere after school. I even skipped Glee to do so. I needed to see him... I don't know why, exactly, I just felt like I needed to thank him? If that makes any sense, which it probably doesn't. He had sort of saved my ass earlier.

That, and I really wanted to see him.

When I said that I was looking for him everywhere, I meant it. I'd never realized just how big McKinley was until I actually went around looking for someone in it. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. The only place I hadn't checked is behind the bleachers where the skanks hang out.

I sighed as I started to walk to the back of the bleachers. I didn't want to check back there, but I had to if I wanted to find him. If he was still here, that is. There was a chance that he'd just left after he walked out of Jensen's class.

I walked behind the bleachers and peered under them. I was in luck; he was there, along with a few of the skanks. I took a deep breath, trying to hold back a cough as I inhaled some of the cigarette smoke that was constantly blowing out from under here.

"K-Kurt?" I stuttered, walking a little closer to him.

Kurt was leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers as he took a drag. He turned his head to look at me and nodded a little. "Yeah?"

I was quiet a moment. What was I supposed to say? Just thanks and walk away? That'd be weird, even for me. I walked a tiny bit closer and clutched onto my messenger bag. I don't think I'd ever been so nervous before in my life.

"Um, I wanted to say thank you," I finally spit out.

"Thank you?" he took another drag and gave me this weird, confused, sort of condescending look. "What the fuck for?"

"Today in History," I clarified. "You answered the question for me and then you-"

"Yeah, I know, I was there," he said. You'd think I'd take offense to the comment, but I didn't. He didn't really say it in that mean of a way. At least, I didn't take it that way. It didn't make it any easier to respond though.

"Yeah... S-so... are you a skank?" I blurted out. I don't know what the hell possessed me to ask him that, other than lack of knowing what to say to him.

He chuckled darkly and took another drag. He leaned his head back against the wall and blew the smoke out of his mouth. It was hot, in a really weird kind of way. "Fuck no. I can't stand these bitches," he grumbled rather matter-of-factly. A few of them gave him a bitch glare, but it was obvious that they shared the same feelings as he did. "I only come back here because it's the only place I can skip class and smoke without one of those lame-ass teachers harping on me."

"Don't your parents get mad when they realize that you're skipping and... smoking?" I asked.

I swear, for a minute, Kurt actually looked sad. Normally his face always showed boredom and anger, but never sadness. It made me want to hug him and tell him that things were okay, which was really stupid considering I had no idea what was wrong. The look of sadness only lasted for less than a second, though. Before I knew it he was taking another drag from his cigarette.

"They would be... if they were alive," he said, like it was no big deal.

"I'm so sor-"

"Don't be," he cut me off. "My mom and dad died when I was ten."

"Where did you go?" I question. I couldn't even imagine what I'd do if my parents died when I was ten.

I went to live with a friend and her parents for a while, but," he bit his lip and that look of sadness popped back on his face. "But they died when we were thirteen."

"What happened then? I asked softly.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head and taking another drag. "We just... we figured it out."

I wanted to apologize to him, but he'd just told me not to, so I didn't. Instead I took another few steps closer to him. "That's horrible."

He shrugged and dropped his cigarette on the ground, smashing it with the heal of his black, what appeared to be, designer, combat boots. He moved his head over to look at me face to face. I hadn't realized how close I was to him until now. It was nice, in an extremely scary kind of way.

"It doesn't bother me. It was a long time ago," he muttered, putting his left boot up on the wall and leaning his head back again. "So, what's your story?"

"My story?" I asked, finally walking close enough to him to smell the smoke that was till surrounding him. I sat on the small bench next to him, expecting him to look at me but he didn't. He kept looking straight out into nothingness.

"Everyone's got a story, Blaine." Holy shit, he knew my name. "I'm asking you for yours."

"Oh. Well... Uh, I'm seventeen and I'm in Glee club, and I..." I paused. I had no idea what to tell him. I didn't really have a story. Nothing he'd been interested in at least. "I don't really have a story," I finally admitted.

Kurt scoffed and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He held them out in my direction as if he were asking me if I wanted one. I shook my head. Kurt shrugged and lit another, putting it to his lips and taking another slow drag.

"You know... smoking kills." I really didn't think the statement was funny, but apparently Kurt thought otherwise. I'd never even heard him talk-not until today at least-much less laugh so hard. "What's so funny?" I asked, but he continued to laugh like I'd said the funniest thinking in the world to him.

"Smoking is the least of my worries, Babe."

Babe. He'd actually... No, maybe I heard him wrong. Why would he call me something like that after only talking to me for a few moments? Maybe he was just one of those people who did that. You know, people who are always using term of endearments, no matter what.

"Why do you say that?" I asked timidly. Something about him made me really nervous, not just the fact that he I had the hugest crush in the world on him, either. There was just something about him that was so intriguingly mysterious.

"No reason," he muttered after a moment. Everything was silent for the longest time; I sat there, waiting for Kurt to say something else, but he only kept smoking. I didn't understand how I saw him to be so hot in that moment. I'd never thought smoking to be attractive; actually I usually thought it was nasty. But with Kurt...

I shook my head a teeny bit to try and clear my mind. That ant to try to forget how freaking aroused I was at the moment. Mainly to forget about how aroused I was. It didn't work. He was literally the hottest person I'd ever seen in my life.

Eventually, I'd had enough of the awkward silence. I stood up and took a few steps away from the bench. "I-I better go. We have that history exam tomorrow and If I don't cram for it tonight I'm going to fail."

"You can look off of my test," Kurt said as if cheating was no big deal. "I know I'll get an A. This shit is easy."

"You never pay attention or take notes, or do your homework..." I started off, trying to find the words to ask him one of the many questions I had. "How do you always get A's?"

Kurt was silent a moment, as if he were trying to figure out an excuse to why he was such a good student. "We already learned this at my old school before I transferred."

"Where'd you go before McKinley?"

Another long pause, but mainly because he stopped to continue smoking his cigarette. "North McKinley High. The district lines changed so I had to transfer here."

"Oh," I said softly. Wait, then why aren't there more people here? Why didn't I hear about the district lines changing? I mean, I'm usually pretty apathetic about some-okay, most-of the things that go around here, but I think I would have remembered that... "Don't you miss your friends?"

Kurt sighed; I knew it, I was annoying him. Fuck. He's never going to want to talk to me again...

"I didn't have any. Now, is this game of twenty questions over?" I didn't respond; I didn't know how to. "Yes? Amazing." Kurt dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his boot. He walked close to me; I mean, like, really fucking close to me. I could smell the smoke coming from his breath and the insane smell of what seemed to be coconut and lilac; this and the fact that his lips were about two inches away from my own made it unable for me to breathe. "See you around, Babe," he whispered into my ear. I could feel his hot breath all the way down my neck. It actually gave me a chill.

But, just like that, Kurt was gone. He was walking away from me; leaving me in the most confused, amazing feeling I'd ever experienced in my life.