The cafeteria was like a jungle. A jungle filled with ferocious, wild animals all hungry and growling at one another, bumping impatiently around. Blaine, clutching tight to his food-which, as he told Kurt, could easily slip from your hands in the dense crowd-squeezed through the group of students, all packed together tightly around the room. The three sat down at a table near the edge of the room, light from the tall, spotless windows falling down on them like a blanket of sunshine. 

"You sure you don't want me to...you know disappear?" Wes whispered, sitting down next to Blaine.

Blaine elbowed him in the side, but Kurt didn't notice. He was too distracted looking curiously around at the mayhem of the cafeteria. "Stay," Blaine ordered firmly. He wanted to spend time with Kurt, but he was slightly afraid he would say something stupid.

"So, Kurt," Blaine started and the other boy raised his head in interest. Blaine froze for a moment-'His eyes are nice,' he thought, and then blushed slightly. "Where did you go before you transferred here?"

"I was home schooled," Kurt replied not even a second later.

"All your life?" Blaine asked.

"All my life."

"Where are you from?" Blaine continued curiously.

"Lima, Ohio," he said. He answered absently-almost robotically even. The answers seemed to be programmed into his head. "I've lived there all my life."

Blaine was watching those eyes. There was something captivating about them and he really didn't want to look away. Wes stepped on his foot, but Blaine only glared at him. "Why the move, then?" Wes asked instead. 

Kurt shrugged. "My dad needed a better job, and one presented itself here." He turned to Blaine, smiling softly. Something about it seemed to make his eyes brighter. "What about you?"

"I didn't move," Blaine said and Wes coughed loudly beside him. His eyes darted over to him and Wes shook his head at him, hiding a smirk. It took him a minute to catch exactly what he'd just said himself and Blaine mentally scolded himself. However, Kurt was grinning, and Blaine kind of wished he could think of something else stupid to say. He liked that grin. "I mean, I'm from here, never have moved before. I live with just my brother."

"Is he a troublemaker, too?" Kurt asked.

"Runs in the family," Blaine joked. "No, Coop's alright I guess. Our dad's in the business of business so he's always somewhere."

"That's too bad," Kurt said apologetically.

“It's not all bad," Blaine said, and he honestly meant it. Coop, being his legal guardian, wasn't the most uptight person. He was actually probably the most carefree person Blaine knew, and sometimes the end result of that was enjoyable, and sometimes that was disastrous. Still, he cared for Blaine, and that seemed like enough.

"So what classes are you in?" Blaine asked. Kurt pulled out the schedule that he'd been given and they looked over the classes, Blaine noting on which ones he or Wes were in. It seemed that most of them he happened to have with Kurt, and Blaine tried to suppress the smile he could feel fighting to break free. Every time that Kurt raised his head Blaine couldn't help but stare at those beautiful eyes, and he loved Kurt's laugh, so perfect it was practically musical. He was sure that he physically could not argue with spending more time with Kurt.

"You've got it bad," Wes laughed once they were out of the cafeteria and off to their next class. 

"What?" 

"For the new kid," he said, poking Blaine in the side. "Your heart's in your eyes, Anderson."

"Shit, do you think he noticed?" Blaine said, staring at Wes frantically. He knew that he had been too desperate. What if Kurt found him weird? Except Wes didn't look concerned-in fact, he was trying not to burst into laughter. Blaine glared at him and punched him lightly in the arm. "What?"

"You're like a puppy, you know that?" Wes said, rolling his eyes.

"What the hell does that even mean, Wesley?" Blaine said angrily.

Wes looked at him sideways, expression serious. "Are you okay? You seem really out of it."

Blaine unconsciously rubbed at his eyes before his hand froze and he shook his head. He felt tired, his entire being felt tired. Walking hurt just as much as thinking hurt. "Tired," Blaine said. "What about him though? Did he notice?"

"Did he notice Blaine Andersmooth laying on the charm?" Wes said, smirking. "I'm sure he did."

"You aren't funny, you know that?" Blaine replied hotly.

"Blaine..."

"Right, sorry, sorry," he muttered, yawning. "I wish I could go home..."

"Fake sick?" Wes suggested, but Blaine shook his head. "Alright, really be sick and throw up all over someone's feet. Then they'll have to send you home, right? Or pass out or something-oh! Break one of your bones!"

"I said go home not to a hospital," Blaine grumbled.

Wes laughed, patting Blaine on the back, and they headed into class together.

The rain was coming down in sheets, slanted by the wind, and falling in through the smashed windows up front. The bright red carpets of the usually bustling William Bank were crowded with men dressed in black, with ski masks pulled down over their faces. People crouched on the ground, their hands held over their heads, each shaking and fearful as guns were pointed in their general direction.

"Have you got it all yet?" one of the men shouted. 

"Just hold on!" another voice called from the back of the bank. "We've almost got what we need!"

"Hurry it up," a third voice added, "We don't have all day."

Under one of the desks a woman sat with her young child. She clutched to the child desperately, trying to be strong for him. The young boy was trembling in her arms, his frantic eyes filled with silent tears which he blinked out of his eyes. She watched as they slid down his cheeks and bent to press her lips carefully to the top of his head, wishing she could say something to comfort him.

The child sniffled, the smallest sound, and yet, it was just enough to catch someone’s attention. The man dawned in black closest to them swiveled around, his weapon trailing on the two of them in an instant. His finger was hovering over the trigger, a wicked grin twisting his lips. 

She shook her head, bringing her child closer to her body. Her heart was thudding so hard in her chest that she was sure the boy could feel it against his back. "He didn't do anything," she whispered hoarsely.

"Keep it quiet then," he said bitterly. He looked over his shoulder, the gun still aimed at them, and called out, "How long are ye' gonna be?"

A man across the room glanced over and laughed. "You itching for some hostages?"

"I'm looking for some real fun," he replied with a smirk. 

The woman nearly whimpered, her arms wrapped tightly around her son. They wouldn't touch him. She was sure of that. He shook violently in her arms, breathing hard against her. She would get him out of this. She had to. She would do anything to protect her son.

"Got all of it!" a voice yelled from the back of the bank. Several men emerged, each hauling bags stuffed to the brim with bills. They smirked proudly, walking through the empty spaces between desks as though there weren't innocent people huddled below them. "Cars gonna be right out back. Take a bag and we'll take the lot." The one standing in the middle looked around and caught sight of the man pointing the gun at the mother and son and laughed harshly. "Wait till we get everything loaded, then have your fun, kid."

"Hell, why not just do it now?" another said, clutching a bag. "Adrenaline rush the hell outta here."

The group all laughed, a few even hollered and the man grinned, pulling his finger over the trigger and trailing it right where he was sure it would do both the most damage. "Light's out," he said, smiling.

The woman closed her eyes, pulling in her son, but there was no bang. There was no rush or thrill of pain. There was, however, a loud smashing sound, and a window breaking against the tiles. Her eyes fluttered open. 

In the middle of the room, holding up the man by the neck, was a man. His entire body seemed to be covered in a slick, metallic silver armor, almost like a second skin. The man's face was covered by a mask that wrapped around his head, silver as well, but that left two eye sockets, tinted black. There was a cut in the bottom where his mouth was visible, and those lips were turned up in a victorious smile.

"Silver," her son breathed.

Silver tossed the man across the room, effortlessly plucking the bag of money from the man's one hand and the gun from his other. He landed on the other side of the room, his head smashing into a desk. He didn't move, but slumped against it, out cold.

"Shit." The woman lifted her head slightly and saw one of the thieves backing away, obviously trying to be discreet. His eyes didn't move from the figure in the middle of the room.

"You know, it's only more fun for me if you try to leave," Silver shouted. He spun around, facing the woman, but his eyes caught on the retreating figure. He sprinted forwards, jumping over the desk as though it was merely a bump on the ground, and grabbed the man by the back of his shirt. He struggled, trying to pull out his weapon, but Silver bent his arm behind his back. "Drop it," he hissed into his ear. The man didn't resist. He let the bag fall from his hand and carefully set down the gun that had been nestled in his pocket.

He let go of the collar and kicked away the gun so that it slid across the floor before pushing the man forwards. He stumbled right into a post, his feet seeming to stop working as he struggled to stay standing. 

It took a moment for the woman to realize that all but two of the thieves were either slumped on the ground or standing dazed around the room. Silver turned to the pair standing a little ways away and they both huffed angrily, dropping their weapons and bags, and raised their hands above their heads in defeat.

"Good choice," Silver said smugly. He looked towards the front of the bank and nodded. Police officers flooded the room, streaming in through doors and smashed windows. In a moment they surrounded the room. However, just as soon as he had appeared, he managed to disappear too. Silver Spark was gone.

The suit was retracting quickly, the armor slipping away from his skin towards the back of his neck. The mask pulled itself back from his face, making the world seem just a little bit clearer without the tinted lenses. 

Blaine sprinted home, his legs feeling exhausted. He rubbed at the back of his head, where someone had managed to land a pretty nasty blow. They probably broke their hand in the attempt-the suit was pretty thick-but it still hurt like hell. He lifted a hand, examining it as the suit slowly peeled away from his skin, slipping away as though it had never been there in the first place. The silver sheen disappeared, and once more he was just Blaine Anderson. Yet he still had to feel the effects of the fight, he was just lucky that the suit was so strong.

It was already dark when he finally got inside. The lights were all on and Coop's car was in the driveway. It had to be nearly ten at night, and yet he could still catch the scent of dinner wafting in from the kitchen.

When Blaine stumbled into the kitchen, his body aching, he found Coop. Coop, who was normally at his utmost calmest and usually the one to let things get out of hand, was standing in the middle of the room, leaning against the counter. His arms were folded tightly over his chest and his lips were pursed. He did not look happy to say the least. 

"Where were you?" Coop said. He sounded much too serious for Coop-his tone angry. Blaine swallowed and opened his mouth to reply but Coop cut him off, "No, don't answer that. You'll probably just lie to me. Do you realize how late it is?"

"Coop, I'm really sorry-" he tried.

"Sorry? You've been home late too many times, Blaine. I never know where you are anymore." He sighed, running a hand through his hair and shook his head in frustration. "I got a call from your school today."

"What?" Blaine froze, chewing his bottom lip. "You did?"

"How do you manage to be late to everything?" he said. His voice was too quiet. He wished that Coop would just shout at him, this was even worse. Blaine could just hear the disappointment in his voice. "Your grades are dropping, and you hardly ever come in on time. A month's detention," he muttered, shaking his head. "Really, Blaine?"

"I'm sorry, I know, Coop," he said, searching for words. "I just-I'm going to fix it."

"This has gone on too long, Blaine," Coop sighed. "Do something about it."

"I will, I promise," Blaine said. He felt a wave of tiredness taking him over and his eyes fought to stay open. It had been a long day, and despite the delicious smells surrounding him, all he wanted to do was collapse at that moment. He reached out, clutching a countertop for support. "I just...give me some time."

"There's something up with you, Blaine," Coop said. Blaine could see him watching him, trying to search for some sort of emotion-some hint as to what was going on. All Blaine could feel right then though was tired, and he was sure that's all that showed. "If you feel like talking about it you know your big bro is always here."

"I'll remember that," Blaine said, smiling weakly. "I'm really tired, though, I just wanna head upstairs, okay?"

Coop looked like he wanted to object but Blaine didn't give him the chance. He gave Coop a grateful smile and then hurried out. He could hear him call out from the kitchen, "If you want something to eat just come down then!"

"Sure thing," Blaine mumbled.

Blaine trudged into his bedroom and closed the door before sinking into bed. He stared at the ceiling and now that his mind seemed to have a moment to relax it felt like every pain was intensified. He bit down on his lower lip, rubbing the back of his head, and closed his eyes. The day felt long and strained, and yet somehow Blaine still couldn't get Kurt out of his head. He wished he could go and hear that laugh, he needed it right now. He imagined Kurt, just sitting there with the light falling on him again as it had been at lunch. Maybe Wes was right-he was falling hard for this guy. Still, it was comforting just to lay there and think about him, and that's what he thought about as he drifted off to sleep.