It wasn't that he was nervous, but he still wanted to linger outside the choir room a while before actually going in. Maybe he could go for some kind of really dramatic entrance with dry ice and flashy lights and all the other cool shit they use in the movies when the villain entered the scene; laughing like a maniac at his victim's impending doom.

Of course Blaine was the villain; heroes don't spend their evenings searching the internet for copies of the Anarchist's Cookbook so they make pipe bombs. However, if you wished to see it this way, Blaine was the hero. He would be saving them of the life they enviably have in front of them, and then their children, and theirs after that and it will keep going on and on like that unless someone did something about it. Idiots like the people he goes to school with shouldn't be allowed to breed, compared to them, he was like God.

Glee club had started a few minutes ago. Blaine wasn't really listening to what they were saying, but it was something about 'motivational songs'. He kept his back pressed against the wall and peered round the doorframe. He spotted Kurt immediately. He was sat at the back and chatting animatedly to an attractive, Hispanic girl dressed in a cheerleading uniform. Great. Kurt was friends with the cheerleaders, exactly the people he hated. Even when he was on the soccer team at Dalton, their cheer team from Crawford Country would laugh at him: he didn't even know why.

"Hey, loser," Blaine turned to look down the corridor to see two guys wearing letterman jacket walking towards him. He hated how whenever anybody called out to someone by an offensive name, whether it was loser, or freak or faggot, he knew they were going to be talking to him. "Yeah, you. What the hell are you doing?"

Well shit. He couldn't exactly say he was spying on the glee club because he was too scared to just walk in there, but he couldn't say he was planning his über theatrical entrance because that was just as lame.

"I said, what the hell are you doing?" Before he could say anything Blaine was picked up by the collar of his jacket and thrown across the corridor, stumbling backwards till hit the opposite wall. He slumped his shoulders, keeping his head down as he slid down the lockers, back catching on the hinges of the doors. Blaine moved his head to see the two jocks walking down the hall, high fiving as their laughter bounced off the walls.

He glanced around, up and down the corridor and through the windows of the choir room. The final bell rang not long ago, there were still students and teachers milling about. His attackers weren't exactly quiet, and he was right outside several classrooms, yet no one had come to his defence. What the fuck was wrong with this school? It's not like it mattered anyway. They'd pay for what they'd done. Better not to fight back now and end up get himself into trouble: Ignorance is bliss, so they say.

Blaine picked himself off the floor and grabbed his backpack from where he dropped it moments ago, slung it over his shoulder and walked back over towards the choir room. All previous conversations which were happening in the room stopped, and eyes shifted to where Blaine was lingering awkwardly in the doorway.

"Blaine?" Kurt stood up and walked down towards the piano where a short girl wearing a festive jumper was sitting, stopping short when some guy wearing a sweater vest piped up from the other side of the room.

"Hello, can I help you?" The man walked down and came to stand next to Kurt.

"Er, I'm Blaine and I'm new…" He coughed, shuffling his feet uncomfortably and clutching the strap of his bag. "Miss, er, Pillsbury told me I should come here because it might be 'good' or something."

"Okay, Blaine, why don't you have a seat next to someone you know and I'll give you an introduction to glee, how does that sound?" Said sweater-vest-man: He didn't need to be so patronising about it. Blaine was seventeen not five.

"Sure." He looked around the room to where everyone was subtly glancing around the room, giving off a silent plea of please don't sit next to me: You know, the kind one receives when getting onto a really busy bus and no one really wants to sit next to you; a complete stranger, and a weird one at that. The only person staring directly at Blaine was Kurt, now sat at the back of the room, away from anyone else and seat right next to him that Blaine was pretty sure had his name on it.

"Alright! Okay, welcome Blaine. I'm Mr Schuester and we are the New Directions…" Mr Schuester stopped when he heard stifled snickering from the back row.

"Is there anything funny, Blaine?"

"Yeah," Blaine snorted and Kurt gave him a questioning look. "Did you know your Glee club sounds like 'the nude erections'?" More quiet laugher, muffled behind hands filled the room. A guy with a mohawk turned around to face Blaine and put his hand up for him to hi-five.

"I heard some shit about how you were weird, but dude, I've been waiting to say that for three years. Nice one, man." Jeez, people here were easily impressed, but he returned the hi-five regardless. He was secretly pleased with himself.

"Mr Schue!" A hand shot up in the first row. Blaine could see from her jumper that it was the girl who was sat the piano, and even though she's only spoken too words, he knew she was going to annoy the hell out of him. "It is standard glee club procedure that when a new member joins our little group that they should audition. Now, no offence, Blaine, but judging by the t-shirt you're wearing," It was a Rammstein t-shirt, "your taste in music is abysmal. We need backup singers, not props."

"Yes, Blaine you do need to audition, I'm not saying that it needs to be right now but…"

"No, no. I'll do it now." He'll show that stuck up little bitch that he's more than just a 'prop'. God, he hated her already. She didn't even know him and she was already judging him just like everyone at this school. But Blaine had just said he would audition right here and now, and needed to come up with a song and quick. He needed a pop song, this was glee club. Think, Blaine, think.

He stood up and walked to the front of the room and faced the firing line. People were offering him instruments left right and centre. He chose an acoustic guitar, put the strap over his shoulder, took a deep breath and counted himself in.

"I got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match,

What a catch, what a catch."

So kill him: it wasn't pop, but it was the closest he could think of on short notice. Fall Out Boy used to be cool and Blaine still liked them. Besides he rocked this song like there was no tomorrow.

As he strummed the guitar and sung the lyrics his eyes shifted from person to person. Their expressions were all kind of similar – unreadable. Nobody seemed impressed or surprised, but no one seemed dislike it either. It's like they'd switched off. Somebody had removed the master key which powered all the robots.

That was another reason why Blaine hated school so much. He saw it like a training camp for young minds, but instead of feeding them useful knowledge they could use in later life, they were teaching them to conform. Children would turn up in the morning, go to lessons when the bell rang, and left when it sounded again. They'd go to cafeteria and sit with the same people, and eat the same lunch that their mom packed them every morning. And this happened day after day after day. This was their lives. Spending each day like a trained dog: on a short leash, but still loving the person who feeds it. Pathetic.

Something caught his eye as he was scanning the room again. Kurt leaned forward, balancing his elbow on his knee and leaning his chin on his hand, head cocked slightly to the right, staring Blaine up and down like he was something new, different, unusual. He sung the last lines directly to him. They were exactly the same as the first ones, and in that moment Blaine knew that their relationship was going to end the same way as it started: extraordinarily. He knew what he had to do.

It was as though that last strum of the guitar pulled the trigger and fired the applause. Everyone was on their feet and clapping in approval of Blaine's improvised performance. Well, everyone was standing except that kid in the wheelchair, but Blaine hoped that the way that he was pouting his lips and nodding his head like that was a good thing.

Mr Schuester walked down the steps and clapped Blaine on the back, harder than he was probably aware of. He stumbled forward slightly. "Blaine! That was amazing! Have you ever been in glee club before?"

"Um, no, but I do my own personal concerts in the car, if that counts as experience?"

"Of course it does! Everyone welcome our newest star – with a voice like that, you have a chance at being our new male lead!" He laughed to himself and Blaine received a few uneasy looks from the other male glee club members. Particularly Kurt and a boy who was about 90% limbs, sat on the left side of festive-jumper girl, who now had her hand on his knee comfortingly. Oh, gross. Blaine guessed they were glee's 'star-crossed lovers' who sang every song staring intensely into each other's eyes and kissed at the end of each heart-felt performance.

"I hope you don't mind, but I kind of have work and I need time to get there, so I'm gonna leave early today, if that's cool?" Blaine said. Truth was he didn't need to be at work for a while, but his first glee club meeting was getting increasingly awkward as time progressed.

"Sure, Blaine, that's fine. We'll see you at the next rehearsal, right?" He seemed rather desperate.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," He waved it off, before putting the guitar back on the stand at the side of the room. "Kurt?"

"Yeah?" Kurt said, distantly.

"Are you coming?" Blaine questioned; quirking his eyebrow and trying to ignore the double entendre.

"Where?"

Blaine sort of looked around, as though he'd just asked what gravity was. "Work?"

"You mean I got the job?" Kurt looked absolutely delighted, putting his hands together and giving him the widest smile. Blaine thought it looked cute.

"Why wouldn't you? Come on, I'll give you a ride" Blaine winked, picking up his bag and walking out the door and towards the parking lot. He assumed that Kurt would follow him, and if he didn't… Well that was his loss, right? He heard the sound of Kurt jogging down the corridors to catch up as he strolled through the main entrance, trying to remember where he parked his car.

"So, what do you drive?" Kurt slowed down and walked next to Blaine as he looked around the lot.

"A black '91 Honda Prelude," He squinted against the sun and bought his hand up to shield his eyes. It wasn't hot, but damn was it sunny. Kurt scoffed next to him. "What?"

"A '91 Honda, Blaine. Really?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" As if Kurt knew about cars than he did. Although, saying that, Blaine didn't really know anything about cars.

"Nothing, just not my thing, that's all." Kurt assured him. "Does it, er, cost a lot to repair?" He added on the end as a side note.

"A bit…" Blaine affirmed, slightly hesitantly.

"Well, it's just that your Prelude stopped production in '92, so it's hard to find parts which fit that model."

"Right," Blaine put the key in the lock to his car, tossing the keys over the hood to Kurt so he could unlock the passenger door. Opening it for him probably would have been more gentlemanly. Oh well.

Blaine waited for Kurt to get in the car, and give him the keys back so he could start it. When he put the keys in the ignition, German industrial rock started to blast from the custom speakers Blaine installed himself: He may not be good with mechanics, but he was excellent with electronics. He switched off the stereo almost as quickly as Kurt put his hands over his ears, looking apologetically at his passenger.

He finally got the car running after several failed attempts; the engine whining in protest and Kurt grimacing at the sounds it was making. Blaine reversed out of the spot, left the school grounds and headed down the highway.

They drove in silence for a while. Kurt stared out of the window while Blaine kept his eyes on the road, occasionally drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, along to the imaginary beat. It was Blaine who broke the silence.

"How come you know so much about cars anyway?" A question he'd been aching to ask since they left the parking lot. No offence to Kurt, but he honestly did not seem to fit the bill for a car enthusiast.

Kurt sighed. "Did you even read the application form I gave you yesterday? No? Because that would have given you a lot of answers." He turned back to stare out of the window, away from Blaine.

"Oh," This was kind of awkward. "No, Kurt, I'm sorry. I, er, I didn't really need to, you pretty much got the job as soon as I saw you." He laughed nervously, internally cringing at the cheesiness of what he just said. His passenger was silent for a little before turning back to stare out of the windshield.

"I used to work at my dad's garage: he was a mechanic. It was greasy and messy, and I despised the overalls employees had to wear, so I customised mine with shiny buttons and piping for the collar. I didn't want to look the same as everyone else – follow the crowd and follow the rules just because I'd been told to.

"Admittedly, I used to take it for granted, spending extra time with my dad when I could have been doing things with my newly found friends at glee club. When I found them, it was like finally finding a place for that loose part of a rebuilt engine; the trouble was getting it to fit in. When my dad left me last year, everything fell apart: I had to dismantle the entire engine and I never got it to start right again. I stopped caring about the latest fashion, the happy lyrics of Broadway, and I stopped caring about myself.

"I live with Carole and Finn now, and I love them like they're my own family, but it's not the same." Blaine listened silently the entire time. Kurt wasn't crying, but when he glanced over; his eyes were glazed and shiny. It was like he wanted to cry, but he wasn't going to let himself.

"What do you think about when you look at the sky at night, when there's no cloud out and you can see all the stars?" Blaine asked. They stopped at some traffic lights, and he looked over at Kurt. Kurt stared back. There was a world of answers gleaming behind those eyes, and it was like staring straight into his soul. And for that brief moment, Blaine saw the despair, the rage and the anguish Kurt had been storing up his entire life – forever poised and composed on the outside, but a boiling pot of fury on the inside.

That's when the sound of the car horns behind Blaine's car. He jumped and pushed his foot down on the gas pedal. In the time between asking the question, and angering some drivers, Kurt's cell phone rang and he was ranting in hushed tones to someone called Rachel: He didn't care to listen in. Blaine never would get an answer to that question.