Yawning, he gathered his several bottles and jars of different moisturizers, body wash, grabbed his special shampoo and conditioner, and other hygienic necessities and headed into the bathroom to shower.

He was finished at promptly 6:30 in the morning, and changed out of his robe into the Dalton Academy Uniform that was provided for him.

“Alright, Hummel, let’s go.” True to her word, Officer Simmons had shown up at Kurt’s room at 7 AM sharp to accompany him to his classes. She seemed surprised to find him ready for the day, as if no one else ever did the same.

“What’s your schedule?” She asked gruffly as they walked towards the cafeteria for breakfast.

Kurt fished around for it in his knapsack. Pulling it out, he read: “French, American Lit, History, Group Therapy, lunch, Algebra II, and Chemistry.” He made a face and looked at Officer Simmons. “Group therapy? I have to go to that?”

“Yes. You did something to get in here, and they’re gonna help make sure you don’t do it again.”

Kurt couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course.

“Oh, and since it’s Saturday,” she added, “you only have your first three classes, group therapy, and lunch. Saturdays are half days and there are no classes on Sunday.” Kurt nodded. Other boys would glare menacingly at him as they passed but would otherwise pay him no mind due to Officer Simmons at his side.

They made it to the cafeteria where Kurt sat alone and ate his breakfast quickly, quietly, and uncomfortably. Several boys were arguing over something at the table a few down from where he sat, taking jabs at each other but no full fights broke out, fortunately for him. Officer Simmon’s impatience was practically tangible in the air. Before he knew it, the bell had rung and he was on his way to his first class.

Throughout the day, Kurt noticed that there were several types of people here. There were boys who made themselves small and non-threatening, just trying to get through the day without attracting any attention to themselves like him. On the other wise of the spectrum were the bad asses who acted stupidly tough and made a point to disobey rules as often as possible without getting expelled. The majority of the student body was somewhere in between, Kurt noticed.

Except for Blaine, Jeff, Nick, Wes, and David.

Nick Duval. His forehead was covered by his dark hair and Kurt wasn’t sure but based on the glare that he received when he glanced at his blazer, he assumed that the rumors about him having a knife on his persons were true.

Jeff Sterling. Blonde, usually seen with a cigarette in his mouth or hitting on someone. Apparently, he and Nick got thrown in here for stealing someone’s car and going for a joy ride.

Wes and David.

Not much was known about them other than they were the closest and whenever something bad went down at Dalton, they were usually behind it and you couldn’t find one without the other.

And then there was Blaine, the leader. The top dog or whatever clich� title you wanted to give him.

Rumors followed him endlessly for why he was here ranging from stealing to killing someone and that he was always looking for a quick fuck.

They were at the very top of the pyramid.

They were the ones who ran the school with an iron fist, using intimidation and fear to keep their place at the top. Even the most frightening boys here were scared of them, and he had even seen some with battle scars.

In French, Kurt immersed himself in the class work, anything to keep his mind off of what happened yesterday. Such a huge rush of dejavu hit him when Blaine forced a kiss onto him like that that it made him sick. He hadn’t come out of the bathroom for a long time, crying himself dry. He had barely gotten any sleep.

The French work was ridiculously easy, and he zoomed far ahead of everyone else. He laid his head down onto the table for just a few seconds to rest his eyes… it was so comfortable…and he was so…tired…

“Monsieur Hummel! Attention s’il vous plait!”

His head shot up from the table and he answered automatically.

“Desole, Madame Martin. Je me sens fatigue, il ne se reproduira pas.”

Her lips formed a tight line and she nodded. “J’espere que non, Monsieur Hummel.” Then she turned and fired a question at a student who was doodling in his margins and clearly not paying attention. Kurt slumped in his seat and stared at the clock until the bell rang.

He followed Officer Simmons to American Lit on the second floor, which was taught by a horribly dull Mr. Wern. There were at least five other boys who were sound asleep, but Mr. Wern just kept on lecturing. It was terribly uneventful, and History was even more uninteresting.

Group therapy was next. Kurt couldn’t decide if he was excited or nervous or dreadful--he was too tired to feel much of anything. He walked into the classroom to find about 15 chairs formed into a circle in the center. Most of the students were already there, waiting in stony silence for the teacher.

Kurt tentatively took a seat next to a chubby-looking boy with styled black hair. He had kind eyes and smiled when Kurt took the seat next to him.

“Hi, you must be the new kid,” he smiled. “I’m Trent.” He stuck his hand out and Kurt took it.

“I’m Kurt,” he smiled back. Trent seemed like a genuinely nice person but appearances could be deceiving so he kept his guard up.

“So, what exactly do we do in here?”

Trent shrugged. “Oh, mostly just talk about our behavior, how we can change it, become better people… you know, that normal bullshit they try to pull. Dr. Eston is an alright therapist. I think if you’re new, he wants you to say what you did to get in here.”

At Kurt’s panicked face, Trent elaborated. “I mean, you don’t have to. You don’t get kicked out of here or arrested if you don’t. It’s just advised. Get it off your chest, y’know?” Kurt felt himself relaxing. He guessed it made sense. After a few moments of silence, Kurt got the courage to ask Trent. “What did you do to get in here?”

Trent was just barely opening his mouth to reply when Dr. Eston walked in holding a clipboard in one hand and a decorated coffee mug in the other. “Hey guys, ready to get started?” Noticing Kurt, he paused. “Oh, you must be Kurt Hummel,” he said, checking his clipboard as he took a seat in the circle. “Welcome to group therapy! I promise it isn’t that bad, you say what you want to stay in here. No restrictions. You’re here to relax with your classmates, and just talk if you want to. It’s a group thing, right guys?” Trent along with two other boys grumbled in reply while the others merely folded their arms over another in silent protest.

“So, let’s get started.” Dr. Eston took a sip of his coffee. “Greg,” he said, turning to his left. “Let’s start with you.”

And they went around the circle.

Most of the boys didn’t say much but grunt or throw a few curse words around.

Only Greg, a small, timid looking boy who kept fidgeting had spoken so far, muttering something about money and nightmares but it was barely audible. Dr. Eston encouraged him but did not seem to deter from his task no matter how many of the boys ignored him.

Then it was Trent’s turn.

He talked about his plans to send a gift to his mom. Kurt noticed how his eyes lit up when he talked about her. It was sweet and it brought him memories of his own mother when he was young.

Then it was Kurt’s turn.

“So, how’s your day been so far, Kurt?” Dr. Eston asked, his pen clicking against the clipboard as he shifted over. everyone was looking at him and he didn’t know what to do.

I’m miserable here. I hate it. I shouldn’t be here. Why am I here?

He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate.

“Kurt?” Dr. Eston tried again, but nothing would come out.

The teacher gave him a look. “Are you sure you don’t wanna say anything?”

Kurt lowered his head in reply, feeling the curious stares and disgusted glares on his back like red-hot lasers.

“Alright then, that’s fine. Maybe next time, huh?” Kurt nodded with a weak smile. He felt Trent looking at him questioningly, but didn’t turn around. The class ended soon after.

__________________________________________

“Hey man, I’ll see you later!” Blaine waved at Wes as he walked to the cafeteria. It was lunchtime and he was too hungry to be locked out. He walked down the familiar hallway, glaring at a couple guys who gave him dirty looks as he passed and made it as far as the hallway outside the cafeteria before he froze.

Because sitting right there, talking animatedly to Trent, was Kurt.

Memories from yesterday’s kiss started rushing into his head before he could stop them. The feel of Kurt’s arousal after just one measly kiss so blatantly obvious against him. He took a few deep calming breaths as he remembered yesterday how one second they were kissing and he was smirking at the thought of another easy fuck, and then the next, Hummel was pushing him away and running away, barely holding back tears

Normally, when Blaine kissed or fucked guys, it was causal and meant nothing. It was just fun. But this time… this time something felt different. It was as if all his senses had become heightened and everything made sense but at the same time nothing made sense at all. This was something that made his stomach flutter and he felt breathless and nervous and above all else, he felt scared.

Boys like him weren’t meant to feel like this. He couldn’t feel like this because as soon as he let someone in they would have the complete and utter power to destroy him from the inside out.

And Blaine had everything. He couldn’t afford to lose everything that he had worked towards.

Blaine took a deep breath, straightened his back and plastered a smirk onto his face and strode into the lunchroom.

He found Kurt’s table easily and both Trent and Kurt stopped their conversation as he sat down. They were so alike, now that Blaine thought about it.

He smirked at Kurt’s shocked face. “Why are you here?” He asked in a high pitched voice.

“Nice to see you too, babe.”

“I told you, don’t call me tha--”

“I can call you whatever I want, babe.” Trent was watching with an expression caught between amusement and anxiety.

“No you can’t, I won’t let you! You are an arrogant, stuck up idiot and you need to go.” Kurt was getting madder and madder, if his red face was any indication. Blaine only smiled wider.

“Well, babe, after what happened last night, I think I have the right to call you whatever I wa--”

SMACK.

Trent’s eyes widened almost comically as Kurt stood frozen in shock, unable to believe what he just did. His hand was red from the strong impact with Blaine’s face. The entire cafeteria became silent, eyes trained on the unraveling scene.

Blaine froze with his head turned to the left. After a few tension-filled heartbeats, he turned forward and flexed his jaw. He touched the reddening mark on his cheek curiously as if he’d never felt anything like it before. The entire cafeteria was waiting for the explosion that was bound to happen, and they weren’t disappointed as everything seemed to happen at once. Blaine shot up and grabbed Kurt’s wrists, and shoved the wriggling boy against the table, spilling food and trays onto the floor.

Everyone burst back into sound and a crowd began forming around the two. Trent was watching nervously from the side and didn’t join in when the crowd of boys began to shout different things at the two.

“Punch his fucking face in, Anderson!”

“Get him, new kid!”

“Fucking fight already! This isn’t a fucking stare off!”

“What is going on here?”

Despite Officer Simmons arrival, nobody moved. Nobody cared. They continued to shout jeers and encouragement at the two boys in the middle. She shoved her way through the crowd and pushed Kurt and Blaine apart.

“Stop it, stop!” she yelled. She grabbed at the walkie talkie on her shoulder and called for backup, and soon the cafeteria was flooded with uniformed men and women who were working on subduing the rowdy crowd.

“You two are coming with me to the warden,” she snarled at them. Blaine scowled but remained silent. Kurt, on the other hand, began to splutter.

“B-But you can’t! He started it!”

“I don’t care who started it, Hummel.”

Kurt tried to argue but he knew it was pointless. His arm hurt from the tight grip Officer Simmons had on it and his blood was running cold from dread- his dad would be so disappointed. It wasn’t even the anger or the lecture he would get that he was afraid of-it was seeing the pure disappointment in his father’s eyes that made him feel numb with every bad feeling he could think of.

By the time they reached the warden’s office, Kurt was nearly shaking. He turned to look at Blaine, who didn’t look irritated or scared. He merely looked bored.

Officer Simmons sat them down in two hard wooden chairs outside the office. Kurt felt like he was on a death sentence and soon, he began playing with his hands and tapping his feet.

After a few minutes, Blaine turned and shot Kurt an exasperated look. “I know you’re nervous sweetheart, but could you stop fucking shaking? It’s getting on my last fucking nerve.”

“You’re getting on my last nerve.” Kurt bit the words out with as much venom as he could muster. He didn’t have the patience to come up with a better comeback. It was all Blaine’s fault, anyway. If he wasn’t such a stupid cocky jerk and if he hadn’t kissed him yesterday then maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess--

“Alright guys, come on in.”

The warden’s deep voice sailed out from his office. Kurt stood up on shaky legs and watched as Blaine sauntered into the room almost carelessly. He rolled his eyes and followed after him.

The room was large and, like the rest of the school, dominated by wooden furnishings. It was filled with books and for some reason Kurt had the strong sense that he had to be quiet almost as if he were in a library. The room was in complete order; everything had a place and everything was in its place. And Warden Wilston was sitting in his place behind his desk, hands folded primly. He was a large man, but tidily so. Everything about him was tidy and ordered, right down to his trimmed mustache and fitted suit. He spoke and his voice was smooth and quiet, but forceful. Kurt could see why he would be in a position of power.

“Take a seat, boys.”

Kurt and Blaine obliged. The seats were plush and squishy but they didn’t calm Kurt, not one bit.

“What’s gonna happen to us?” Kurt blurted before he could stop himself.

Mr. Wilston chuckled humorlessly before replying. “Nothing, really. No punches were thrown, correct?” He looked from between Blaine and Kurt.

Kurt’s heart immediately started racing. Blaine had the power now to get him suspended- he could tell the warden about the slap across the face, he could exaggerate it and claim to be injured. He could get Kurt in a load of trouble.

“Or were there?” Wilston’s eyes landed on Blaine suspiciously.

But instead, Blaine shook his head. “No… not unless you count a measly slap as a punch.” He smirked.

Both Kurt and the warden gaped at Blaine. Meanwhile, Blaine was just sitting there, the smirk on his face growing quickly.

“Blaine, that’s the first time I’ve ever heard a confession out of you. Ever since the narcotics incident and the issue with Jeremy, you’ve never straight admitted something like that.” The warden smiled.

“Good job, Blaine.”

Kurt noticed a few things at once.

First, that Blaine had grown considerably pale at the mention of Jeremy. The second was that Blaine’s jaw clenched and his eyes closed when Mr. Wilston mentioned the narcotics.

“It was more than just an issue, Mr. Wilston. You know that.” Blaine growled. He probably hit a sore spot.

“Yes, Blaine, but that’s all in the past now. Let’s move on shall we?” Blaine growled and to be honest, Kurt wouldn’t have been surprised if he jumped across the desk and started strangling the warden based on his look.

Kurt felt curiosity bubble up inside him. Who was Jeremy? And what did narcotics have to do with Blaine? He knew this was a reform school but the crimes people did to get in here still shocked Kurt. He found himself intrigued by Blaine and he wanted to know more.

But Blaine was Blaine, and it wasn’t like he could just walk up to him and ask.

Mr. Wilston took Blaine’s silence as a sign to continue. “Kurt, since you’re new here and this is your first day, I’ll let you off with a warning.” Kurt let out a sigh of relief.

“And no weekend privileges for two weeks. For both of you.” Wilston said.

“What? But I--” Kurt protested.

“It‘s a done deal. Just because it’s a warning does not mean that you’ll be getting off easily. Don’t think it’ll always be like this either. There are boys here who can do much, much worse than just a slap across the face.” He glanced pointedly at Blaine, who stared murderously at the carpet.

“So Kurt, I’m urging you to control yourself. For your own sake and for the sake of others.”

“And Blaine, you‘ll be doing community service for Mrs. Bellman on Monday for one hour. I‘m sick of having to deal with you. You get one more chance Blaine. One.” The warden narrowed his eyes at Blaine in a warning, but the boy just shrugged him off.

“Yes, Mr. Wilston.”

The warden looked between the two boys before sitting up straight. “Alright you two, back to your dorms. Remember Blaine. Monday, one hour after class with Mrs. Bellman.”

Kurt nodded and he and Blaine walked out of the office and into the still-empty hallway. “Well at least we didn’t get in t--”

Kurt would’ve screamed if it hadn’t been for Blaine’s hand covering his mouth. Before he knew what was happening, Blaine had him pressed against a wall and his hot breath was hitting Kurt’s face and he looked mad and a bit unhinged.

“Now you listen and you listen good. I don’t know where all that bravado came from earlier Hummel, and I don’t even care. I can ruin you, do you understand?”

“Mmph--!”

“Just know this, Hummel. No one--and I mean no one--hits me and gets away with it. Especially not pretty boys like you who probably just stole a chocolate bar and got thrown into a big bad scary reform sch--”

Kurt pushed Blaine off of him as hard as he could and into the opposite wall. “Don’t you dare assume you know my past, or what I did. You don’t know anything.” Kurt snarled at Blaine, who stared back at him in shock. Kurt continued. “And I’m not gonna let you push me around because I have had enough of that bullshit and I didn’t come here just to meet another stuck-up asshole who thinks they’re just so fucking cool that they can treat everyone else like…like that!”

Kurt was angry. This was not going to happen again, not to him. He wouldn’t let it happen. All the anger and frustration he had felt since being transferred to Dalton was let out now, and Kurt didn’t try to stop it. It felt so good to lash out.

“So just leave me alone, Anderson.”

And Kurt spun on one heel, walked down the hallway to his room, and didn’t look back.