Kurt grabbed his car keys from the table and rushed towards the front door, noticing the soft, early morning sunlight streaming through the window to his right. Reaching out to grab the door handle, he stopped when he heard a voice behind him.

‘Kurt?’

The teenager turned to see his father, barely awake, rubbing his eyes slowly, ‘It’s 6 AM’

‘I know dad.’ Kurt said, smiling, ‘I’ve got early Cheerio’s practice’

Burt nodded, looking straight at his son.

‘Are you okay Kurt?’ he asked, ‘I mean...ever since you became a cheerleader and got these new friends of yours, you’ve...changed’

Kurt’s smile faltered slightly.

‘I...I don’t see you any more Kurt’ he said, walking towards his son, slippers scuffing the tile floor, ‘What happened to Friday dinners? Heck, I even miss those nights when we would watch all those musicals that you like. ‘

‘Dad, I just-I’m working my way up in this school. If I keep attending extra practice and working on my routines, I could be Head Cheerio. I’ve just busy with that and homework and friends, but once I’m Head Cheerio, we can do all the things you want. Being Head Cheerio means that I won’t have to ever worry about being bullied again...everyone will have to respect me, whether they like it or not.’

Burt pressed his lips together.

‘Alright Kurt.’ He said, and sighed. He lay his hand on his son’s shoulder, ‘I just don’t want to see you throw your life away by pretending to be someone you’re not.’

‘You don’t have to worry dad’ Kurt said, forcing a weak smile, ‘Now I really need to go!’

Burt nodded.

‘I’ll see you later. Maybe’ he said, and turned, walking back to his bedroom.

Kurt watched his father go, before sighing and swiftly heading out of the door.

*

Kurt could feel Karofsky staring at him from the back of the room. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, and he shivered, but tried to keep his attention on the ticking clock that currently resided on the wall in front of him, above a large chalkboard, its long-term use shown by the permanent white smudges left by chalk that had been previously used to write down the quadratic formula, or the equation for respiration.

‘Blaine?’

At the familiar name, Kurt found his head turning to see the hazel eyes and olive skin and gelled hair of the boy he used to know.

’65 degrees Miss.’ He stated simply, to which the teacher smiled and nodded.

‘Excellent. Now kids, as Blaine has shown...’

Kurt didn’t turn back, but instead studied the boy in question. He was leaning over his page, a stray lock or two of curled black hair falling from his perfectly gelled hairdo. He scribbled excitedly, obviously understanding the subject of the lesson with ease, while others struggled. His tongue stuck out of his mouth slightly, as he concentrated. His thick glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them up mid-scribble, a sign that the action was a force of habit.

And in truth, Kurt found it endearing. That in a world full of conformity and cliques, there was a boy willing to have the courage to be himself.

Suddenly Blaine was looking up at him. Kurt panicked, but didn’t turn. And then Blaine smiled slightly at him. And Kurt found himself smiling back, because who couldn’t smile back at Blaine Anderson.

 He heard a soft cough, and looked to his side to see Santana glaring at him. Kurt’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned to the front, head down, flushing slightly.

He could not let Blaine Anderson back in. Not now. Not ever.

“

‘So what was that all about?’ Santana asked, as she, Kurt and Brittany walked down the school hallway towards the canteen. Kurt could really use some form of food right now; he had eaten  hardly anything for breakfast and he was ravenous.

‘It was nothing.’ Kurt said, not looking at her, ‘I was just thinking how much of a loser he looked in those clothes.  They were horrendous. I mean, did you see that sweater vest? And his hair? Ugh’

Santana nodded, before stepping in front of him.

‘I just don’t want you mixing with Four Eyes over there. I know he used to be your best friend and you guys did everything together, but he needs to know his place. He doesn’t belong with us Kurt.’

Kurt narrowed his lips.

‘If you two start making friendship bracelets and having special sleepovers, it’ll disrupt everything in this place. I won’t let that go just so that you and that loser can spend time rekindling the beautiful friendship that you had.’

Kurt’s eyebrows furrowed.

‘I assure you, nothing will happen between us.’

Santana smirked and let him pass.

‘I’ll see you later Hummel.’ She called after him, as he stormed away.

*

Blaine heard the scrape of the chair against the floor as Kurt pulled it out, and sat down across from him. He raised his head to see Kurt looking at him

‘Hi.’ Kurt murmered.

Blaine nodded in acknowledgement, and pulled a textbook out of his bag. He placed it on the table, before leaning back down to retrieve his calculator and his pencils. Kurt took out some paper and his own pencil case. They then proceeded to work through some question in the textbook.

‘I’ll let you do the next two on your own’ Blaine explained, before leaning back and waiting. Kurt sat quietly for a minute, working his way through the problems. Blaine pulled a book, A Short History of Nearly Everything out of his bag. He had read it countless times before, shown by the deep and numerous creases in the spine, the dog-eared cover and the folded pages. Blaine had been reading for a couple of minutes before he heard something. He looked up from his book to find Kurt working away at the problem, singing quietly to himself

‘Kurt?’

The boy in question looked up, his face quickly morphing into a scowl.

‘You...you were singing.’ He stated quietly, looking towards the librarian.

  Kurt sighed and leaned back down, giving the impression that he was aggravated by Blaine, and did not want to utter a single word to the other boy if he didn’t need to. However, inside, Kurt’s mind was buzzing, and he could feel a strange sense of worry creeping up from deep inside his body.

He hadn’t sung in school in a long time. He hadn’t sung anywhere in a long time, come to think of it. When Mercedes and Santana’s pop music would blare loudly from the speakers in Santana’s car, Kurt would merely roll his eyes and stare out of the window.

And yet here he was. Singing, without even trying. The only thing that had changed recently was Blaine.

Kurt looked up to the boy across from him. Blaine was wearing another terrible sweater vest and bowtie combination today, but it actually looked okay on him. His hair was gelled back, as usual, and his glasses perched on his nose, just far enough down for Kurt to see those familiar eyes.  Blaine’s lips twitched upwards at something he was reading, and Kurt found himself smiling too. What was it with this boy?

Suddenly, Blaine looked up at him, and Kurt quickly dropped his smile.

‘I’ve finished’ Kurt said icily.

Blaine nodded, put his book down quickly, and nervously took the paper from Kurt. While Blaine marked it, Kurt sat pretending to look at his nails, while secretly wondering why the hell he had just been contemplating Blaine Anderson’s eyes, and why that loser of a boy had made him smile.

After a few minutes, Blaine handed the paper back to Kurt and looked up. Kurt glanced at the paper.

65%

Ah.

‘We’re going to need to work on that score quite a bit, but I think you can do it in a couple of months.’  Blaine said, before looking at the clock, ‘It’s quite late...we should both be heading home’

He stood up, pulling his coat off of the back of his chair as he did so, and slipped his arm into one of his sleeves. Kurt rose too, and in the process turned around. When he had finished buttoning up his coat, he turned back to see Blaine still struggling with his sleeve. Kurt frowned, contemplating what to do, before walking over to the other side of the table.

‘Need some help?’ Kurt said, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

‘I...I’m fine. I’ll get it in a minute.’ The other boy replied, but after a few moments he had no success.

Kurt shook his head, a small smile gracing his face, unseen to Blaine. The cheerleader pulled the empty sleeve of Blaine’s jacked and grabbed his arm, guiding it in.

Kurt tried to brush off the feeling in the pit of his stomach when his hand came into contact with Blaine’s skin.

‘There.’ Kurt said sharply, ‘Now I don’t have to watch you make yourself look like an even bigger loser.’

Blaine’s eyebrows furrowed, before he sighed and leant down to pick up his books from the table. Afterwards, the two boys walked out of the library, into the pouring rain.

Blaine sighed and fumbled around in his messenger bag for something; Kurt guessed an umbrella or a hideous raincoat.

Kurt sighed, holding a folder over his hair.

‘Come with me!’ he called over the noise of the heavy rain, and ran towards his car. Blaine followed him, struggling to keep the bile of books in his arms steady.

Kurt rushed into the driver seat, with Blaine climbing into the front passenger seat moments after.

The two boys sat in silence for a few moments, water dripping from practically everywhere on their bodies.

Kurt looked over at Blaine, who looked back.  Blaine grinned and started laughing, and Kurt tried to suppress his lips from reciprocating it, but failed. Kurt didn’t know how long they had been laughing for when Blaine’s phone rang.  His face fell, and as he reached to grab it from his bag his hand shook.

‘H-Hi Dad.......Yeah, I....I’m helping a....a friend. I know, I know, I’ll....I’ll be home soon....I just have to ...’

Blaine stopped, staring forwards, hand dropping to his knees. After a minute he let out a throaty laugh, and looked down at his phone.

‘I need to get home. I’ll see you tomorrow Kurt.’ Blaine said, motioning to open the door.

‘Wait.’

Blaine turned, his eyes filled with confusion and something else that Kurt couldn’t quite place.

‘I’ll....I’ll drive you home. I guessed by the look on your face when we got out of the library that you don’t have a car?’

Blaine shook his head, and breathed out.

‘Kurt, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to try to be nice to me, really, I...’

‘No. I want to’ Kurt said, his voice hitching in his throat.

They stared at each other for a moment, before Blaine closed the car door and turned, facing forwards. Kurt coughed and turned as well, pulling his seatbelt on.

‘Where do you live?’ Kurt asked.

‘My grandmother’s old house. 43-‘

‘Bleakers Avenue. Got it.’

Blaine looked at Kurt, surprised.

‘You remember?’

‘Of course. You were my best friend Blaine.’ Kurt said.

Kurt then focused his attention on the road, not daring to say anything else. He didn’t notice Blaine looking at him, smiling softly, and turning to look out the side window.

A while later they reached the Anderson house. Kurt had always felt happy at the Andersons home, because it was Blaine’s house, but Kurt had always felt something else when he opened the door. Something cold and sinister; but then Blaine would come running to greet him and everything would be fine.

Blaine, who was now gathering his things together. The rain outside had stopped, which Kurt could see Blaine was thankful for. When the boy in question was done, he turned to Kurt.

‘Thanks for...for giving me this ride. I know that it won’t happen again. You hate me, so...’

‘Blaine stop.’ Kurt said, and his expression suddenly softened.

‘We may not be friends any more. We may be in different cliques, with different friends, and I may act like I despise your very being. But Blaine Anderson...I could never hate you.’

Kurt smiled at him, and Blaine found himself smiling back.

‘I...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Kurt.’ He said, and climbed out. He closed the door behind him and gave a small wave. Kurt watched until the boy had closed the door behind him as he entered the house.

‘See you tomorrow Blaine.’ Kurt whispered, and drove off, thoughts spinning around in his head.

When Kurt climbed into bed that night, he checked his mobile, which he’d accidentally left at home that morning

From: 614-679-1120
Time: 12:40 PM

Hey, it’s Blaine. Got your number from someone at school just so that we can arrange times for tutoring and stuff, hope that’s okay?

Kurt added Blaine’s name to his contacts, before continuing on to read his second message.

From: Santana           
Time: 7:00 PM

 Better cut down on your pies, Hummel. Coach noticed you’re putting on some weight. Wouldn’t want anything to jeopardise your chance at being Head Cheerio.

Kurt sighed. Santana would always pounce at a chance to insult him. He replied with a snappy text, before checking his last message

From: Blaine
Time: 9:00 PM

I could never hate you either