Chemistry.
What more was there to say? It was most definitely not one of Blaine Anderson’s most favourite subjects. Mr Endecott was droning on and on tirelessly, his thick black spectacles sliding ever so gradually towards the tip of his bulbous nose. Ever since Blaine had set eyes on Mr Endecott, the toady-faced man had reminded him of a wicked Santa. Heaven knows why – Mr Endecott was not known to be jolly at the best of times. Maybe it was something to do with his bushy white beard…Blaine let out a slight hiccup of a giggle at thinking of all the things one could stash in a beard such as his. As soon as the giggle had bubbled its way out of Blaine’s throat, he took a jagged breath in and allowed his features to return to the comfort of his stony-faced boredom.

Life wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t jump-for-joy fantastic either. Father was still the same compassionate man who cared for his family, but couldn’t help the necessary business trips to Gaga-knows-where for Gaga-knows-what. Mother was still the raven haired beauty who spent long hours overtime being the Editor of “Fashion America”. Then, of course, there was Gabi.

Gabi was Blaine’s 5 year old sister who needed constant care from her watchful Nanny, Agatha. Agatha was so great for Gabi, she was somewhere in her early Forties which still made her able to bound after little Gab. Of course, Gabi was constantly kept busy with her, ballet, flute lessons, and education to look after – Gabi had a very full 5 year old schedule. Blaine wished he could get more time to see her. After all, boarding at Dalton pretty much sucked up all the time he had left to see his family. It pretty much sucked up all the time he had left for a life. He just didn’t understand where he fit.

Blaine had never really felt like he belonged – and at 11:49 in his double period of Chemistry, Blaine felt a pain in his chest. An aching in his heart for…someone to…talk to, perhaps? All of his friends at Dalton were sympathetic, but they seemed to thrive in the embrace of Ohio’s elite whereas Blaine felt like he just needed something more. No-one around him truly understood that. Maybe no-one ever would. After all, could you miss something you never had?

*BZZZRHIIINGG!!!!*

The metallic sound of the school bell struck Blaine right out of his deep stupor as he immediately began shoving his Chem books back into his leather satchel. Bending down to pick up his dropped black ink biro – a memory hit him with the force of a freight train.
“The Performance!” he squeaked.

Right, or left!? Right was usually the quickest way to the main hall where the Warblers were going to pull an impromptu performance of Teenage Dream – but left…
Blaine’s logic and instinct were playing one hell of a tug-of-war inside his head. It was so strange, what on earth was happening to him? It felt almost physically painful to even suggest going in any direction other than left. The soles of his feet tingled inside his uniform-required, leather bound shoes, his legs feeling as if they could move at any moment of their own accord.
“What the-” and before Blaine could finish his bewildered statement, his body was hurrying him down the Central West Staircase of the Academies Science block.
“Can’t be late, can’t be late!” Blaine exclaimed under his breath, rushing down the stairs and nearly tripping over multiple times. Blaine was so preoccupied with being tardy that he nearly missed the tap on his shoulder from behind.

Blaine raised and turned his head slowly, shaking it gently as if to ground himself back to earth and the present moment. Standing in front of him was a man in his early 30’s with a very fit physique and enough product in his hair to season a wok - the amount was enough to rival even Blaine’s.
“Hi there!” the man beamed,
“I’m Will Schuester from William McKinley Juvenile Correctional Facility, I’m here to talk to your principal, Mr Robert Clune…but it seems he is nowhere to be found.”

A confuzzled look crept across Mr Schuester’s features as he gawked at all the Dalton boys making their way to the main hall, laughter and voices resonating around the marble stairway.
William grinned at Blaine for the second time, “May I ask what is going on?”
Blaine shared a knowing smile,
“It’s the Warblers…they’re like rockstars! They throw an impromptu performance every now and then. Tends to shut this place down for a bit”
“Oh, yes, of course- The Warblers are Dalton Academies Glee Club, aren’t they!” Schuester exclaimed.
Stealing a glance around, Blaine realised that the stairway was now completely empty with the exception of Mr Schuester and himself - which could only mean that almost everyone would be in the main hall by now.
“You know, McKinley Juvenile Correctional Facility - or “MK Juvie” as most of the kids prefer to call it - we have our own Glee club. We’re quite good, even if the children are a bit rough someti---”
“So sorry to interrupt, Mr Schuester,” Blaine cut in, “But I’m running quite behind on schedule…you’re more than welcome to come and watch The Warbler’s perform, of course. But we’ll have to hurry”

Mr Schuester nodded with extreme enthusiasm and began to follow Blaine down the stairs. Blaine had to hurry Mr Schuester quite a few times as he kept getting distracted by the overall grandeur of the establishment, but by some kind of a miracle they arrived directly on time.
“If you’ll excuse me” Blaine grinned, and made his way towards the middle of the room where a collection of boys had begun snapping their fingers and creating incredible sounds from their mouths that created the illusion of a pre-recorded backing track.

And then the boy who had led him here began to sing.

The sound gliding smoothly from his mouth could make any girl fall in love and any guy question their sexuality. His voice. So clean cut. So pulled together. But Mr Schuester could sense that this was a boy who could fight his own battles. This boy was someone with courage.

Tapping the shoulder of a thin, nerdy-looking boy fist pumping in front of him, Mr Schuester beamed one of his infamous smiles.
“Excuse me, but I was just wondering what the name of the lead soloist is”
The boy looked Schuester up and down, and decided that he looked harmless enough.
“Blaine Anderson ” the boy said quickly before returning to his fist pumping joy.

Making last moment eye contact with a jubilant Blaine, Mr Schuester slipped out of the main hall and began walking to the exit in quite a hurry. Fishing out his mobile, Mr Schuester pressed number 1 on his speed dial.

“Emma?.....
Yeah, it’s me.
I have great news, Emma. Great news!
I found him.
He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect for it.
…………
oh, his name?
....
Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”