Part One

“Hey, Kurt.” 

It’s always so crowded in the hallway during the lunch rush that Kurt barely hears the voice of his fellow glee club member. Blaine’s always been notoriously quiet so Kurt doesn’t really care that he may be acting rude. His fingers are gently brushing an escaped strand of hair away from his forehead, and he’s waiting anxiously for Mercedes to arrive from her sixth period English class so they can discuss the relationship status of the varsity swim team boys. Kurt knows Caleb is going to come out soon; Caleb has been on and off with his “girlfriend” for weeks and, well, Kurt has the ability to have the most closeted fall in love with him. He knows that just one hapless run in with the utterly fabulous, fashionable Kurt Hummel is just what Caleb Harrison needs to help him see the light of gay. 

“Blaine, hey, how are you?” Kurt flattens the hem of his Cheerio uniform, smoothing the hem so it lines up with his tight fitting pants. He doesn’t bother looking up from his mirror, casting it one final look before digging around the bottom of his locker for his copy of Pride and Prejudice. He knows that Blaine will be fiddling with his far too hipster to be real glasses, and tugging on one of his suspenders. Or his bowtie. He really needs to be more fashion forward. His nerd chic/hipster-esque style clashes far too much and far too often. 

But, ooh, Blaine is talking and Kurt hadn’t heard anything. Carefully checking his hair one last time, he slams the locker door with a bang and turns to look at Blaine. The sophomore, who had been watching him with a blinding puppy like expression of awe, instantly darts his gaze from Kurt the second the older boy meets his eyes, color flooding his cheeks. Blaine’s fingers—as predicted—instinctively reach for the checkered strap of his apple green suspenders. 

“That’s so incredibly interesting, Blaine.” Kurt can hardly contain his eye roll, and instead, shoulders his messenger bag and takes off down the hall to find Mercedes himself. There’s a pause, then Blaine speaks with a curious tone as he trails behind Kurt, “My history paper on Mao Zedong? You really think that’s interesting?” 

“Of course,” Kurt answers absently, walking a little faster down the hall, his eyes peeled for Mercedes’ obnoxiously large purple handbag in the crowd. Blaine almost trips trying to catch up to Kurt, pushing his large glasses up his nose. “I really need to work on my thesis paper.”

“I can help,” Blaine answers immediately, his eyes bright and hopeful when he looks at Kurt. 

Kurt gives him a weird look, “I’m in US History, Blaine. You’re not even in my grade.”

Blaine fumbles for words, and finally just ends up laughing nervously. His eyes fall to the floor again, “Well—well, what do you think about the glee assignment?” Kurt sighs, leaning against the wall outside Mercedes’ classroom. Blaine is still next to him, holding a physics textbook close to his chest. He’s chewing at the thumbnail that isn’t clutching his text. When Kurt doesn’t answer, he peers up at him through thick, long lashes. Kurt’s on his tiptoes, eyes scrunched as he tries to see through the crowd. “Kurt, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, sorry, what were you saying?” Kurt tears his eyes from the crowd and smiles distractedly at Blaine. He licks his lips, “Something about glee, right?”

Blaine’s face falls a little, but Kurt’s already peering at all the faces that pass through the crowd and doesn’t see it. Blaine clears his throat, shaking his head, “I know I was thinking of doing something from the new Keane album. I’m really into Brit pop lately and it’s just so perfect for this week’s assignment—“

“Mercedes!” Kurt jolts away from Blaine, waving a hand in the air so that she can find him. “Mercedes, I’m over here!” Her eyes light up when she spots him, and she tears through the crowd. “Oh my god, why did you take so long? The bell’s going to ring any second and the pool is on the other side of the school.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, we had to pick partners for our group project,” She squeals, patting perfectly painted nails against her hair. “We’ll be really fast, we just need to catch a glimpse of them half naked and dripping wet,” She bites her lip, huffing out a pitiful sigh, “Tommy is going to die when he sees me like this, too. The one day I wish I had a weave is the one day I’m going to talk to the boy of my dreams. Maybe I can grab my perfume from my locker and brush by him instead. That way he won’t be able to notice my hair, he’ll just notice how alluring I am.”

“Don’t say that! You look perfect; he won’t be able to stay away from you.” They’re walking away before Blaine can open his mouth, hanging on each other’s arms and giggling like a pair of tween girls. He watches them walk away, his mind’s eyes envisioning Kurt flashing him that bright smile in a crowded hallway and collapses against the wall, eyes still trying to search out Kurt’s uniform in the crowded hallway. 

He’s naïve and stupid and too weird to be attracted to the perfect Kurt Hummel. He bites his lip, closing his eyes as he hears Kurt’s high laughter echoing farther down the hall. He clutches his books tighter to his chest. It’s almost enough to distract him when the hockey jocks run by him, screaming profanities and pushing him. He’s taking a deep breath when Rick the Stick takes him by the arm and slams him roughly into the wall, screaming “Watch it, faggot!” One of the more burly players knocks his books out of his hand and rips his backpack off of his shoulder. 

Everyone walks passed him. His notebooks are open and torn, his pens are rolled to the opposite side of the hallway by the door to Mercedes’ classroom, and no one stops. In fact, as the late bell rings, they all pick up speed and the hallway clears miraculously without one teacher or student in sight. Holding back a groan of frustration, he kneels down beside his things, taking careful care to unwrinkle the loose-leaf and cap every pen. 

Blaine wishes, more than anything, that he could be half as popular and well-liked as Kurt Hummel. Even gay, Kurt was close friends to all of the popular girls in the upper grades, offering fashion tips and hairstyling advice. Since becoming a Cheerio, the jocks laid off him, at the warning of their girlfriends and assorted Cheerio friends. Even though Kurt had had a miserable time early on in high school, he was heading toward a pretty awesome senior year. 

Blaine wishes he could say the same. He gently hefts his messenger bag onto his shoulder, wincing when a sharp pain lances up the same side that collided with the wall. He had forgotten that the same side had been slammed into a locker the day before. He had a pretty decent bruise. 

He could never be as well-liked as Kurt. He could never be popular. He could never have Kurt. He knows he’s weird and awkward and shy and bookwormish—not exactly dating material. Blaine begins the slow trek to his government classroom, head hung low and tears stinging his eyes.

******

Two hours later, Blaine walks into the choir room with more than half of the glee club already assembled. Rachel’s cuddling close to Finn, but left a seat open for him nearby. Tina’s on the other side, arms wrapped around Mike, but she smiles the instance she sees Blaine, loosening one hand to wave him over. He takes his seat and takes a quick look around. Kurt’s not there yet. 

He settles into conversation with Mike and Tina. Soon enough, Sam jumps into the conversation when they begin a heated argument about the new Maroon 5 album. Blaine instantly stops talking when Kurt saunters into the choir room, a blinding smile on his face. He’s practically bouncing; Blaine can see that it’s taking practically all of his willpower to not scream at the top of his lungs. He waves a distracted hello to them all, but his eyes are glued to his phone. He takes a seat at the top row of risers, bouncing his knees and biting his lips, glancing up every once in a while to look at the door. 

Blaine wonders what he’s so excited about. He knows it can’t possibly be about him, no matter how much it makes his heart clench. It’s Caleb, it’s got to be. Kurt can’t stop looking at his phone, and biting his fingernails—a habit that Blaine knows he hates—and fidgeting. Blaine prays to every higher being he knows that Kurt was crowned Cheerio captain, or he got Rachel’s solo. 

All his hopes and dreams are crushed—absolutely stomped on—when Mercedes walks into the room, laughing with Santana about something. Kurt flies out of his chair and launches himself at her, practically screeching. Blaine tries not to listen in on the conversation, but it’s almost impossible. 

“He’s gay, Mercedes! He’s gay, he’s gay, he’s gay! And he wants to be with me. He’s really nervous and doesn’t want to come out because we’re in Neanderthal country, and he has enough problems since he’s on the swim team. But Mercedes, he wants to try. We’re going to hang out this weekend.” Kurt’s smile is a mile wide, and he’s quivering when Mercedes wraps her arms around him in an excited hug, “Mercedes, it’s finally happening. He’s beautiful and gay and he wants me.”

In a strange twist of fate, Kurt Hummel is swooning over someone that isn’t him. 

And Blaine Anderson is dying.

He’s wanted Kurt Hummel since he was just a tiny freshman. Blaine’s a boy. Blaine’s gay. He’s been there all along, right in front of Kurt’s face. He’s loved Kurt since day one when Kurt helped him work red food dye out of his cardigan. He had been a tiny helpless freshman and Kurt had helped him and eased some of his fears of public schools. He had even encouraged him to try out for the newly formed glee club. 

From day one he had been in love with him, following his advice and trying to become better friends with Kurt. But then, Kurt had changed, and rejoined the Cheerios. His popularity had skyrocketed and Kurt had stopped any progression Blaine thought he had on a growing relationship. 

And now he feels like a fool. A really big fucking fool. He’s never been who Kurt wanted. He wasn’t the athletic Finn Hudson, and now he wasn’t beautiful, perfect Caleb Harrison.

His heartbeat is rushing in his ears. His mouth’s dry. He can feel the heat rushing to his face. He really can’t hear anything at the moment, even as he’s watching Kurt and Mercedes hug it out. Santana’s mouth is moving, probably making some obscene comment about boy sex, but Blaine doesn’t hear it. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. Tina wraps a hand around his wrist, thumb brushing against the soft skin. Her eyes are full of pity and Blaine can feel his throat tighten with tears. He knows that his chance with Kurt is non-existent. He’s never had a chance with Kurt. He had been blindly in love and so, so naïve. 

It’s not fair. 

He’s gay. He wants love too. And he really, really, wants Kurt Hummel. He knows that more than half the club is aware of his silly crush on Kurt. Rachel’s removed herself from Finn’s side to wrap an arm around him, and Quinn keeps sending him these mournful looks. Even Brittany is watching him with a perplexed expression on her face. 

Almost blindly, he untangles himself from his friends and gets to his feet. He looks pointedly right passed Mercedes and Kurt, who are still squealing in excitement, and walks to the band. They’re supposed to be singing their feelings today anyway; he might as well choose a song that will really help him share his feelings. He had been looking through his iPod for a while and had found the perfect fit. 

Blaine wants to make it hurt. He wants Kurt to realize how he’s broken Blaine’s heart. 

(He really just wants Kurt to understand.) 

By the time Mr. Schuester walks in, Blaine’s already prepared. He’s standing patiently in front of the group for his chance to perform. He’s still far too hot, and slides his suspenders off of his shoulders, loosening the top two buttons of his button up shirt at the same time. When they’re ready, even Kurt has put down his phone. Blaine licks his lips and closes his eyes, cuing the band to start with a wave of his hand. 

So I look in your direction,
But you pay me no attention, do you?
I know you don't listen to me.
'cause you say you see straight through me, don't you?

And on and on from the moment I wake,
To the moment I sleep,
I'll be there by your side,
Just you try and stop me,
I'll be waiting in line,
Just to see if you care.

Did you want me to change?
Well I changed for good
And I want you to know.
That you'll always get your way
I wanted to say, don't you shiver?

Shiver
Sing it loud and clear
I'll always be waiting for you,

So you know how much I need you,
But you never even see me, do you?
And is this my final chance of getting you? 

Blaine’s staring at Kurt. He initially tried not to, keeping his eyes firmly shut. But it hadn’t worked, and he had found himself picturing him and Kurt together, sipping coffee at the Lima Bean or dancing together at prom. He had opened his eyes then and found Kurt immediately.

He’s not paying attention, staring down at his phone instead. It’s tucked against his thigh, and his finger is brushing over the touch screen, obviously scrolling through all of his and Caleb’s fucking flirty texts. A slow gentle smile will creep up his face on occasion, and Blaine’s heart will break with every show of the delicate laugh lines by Kurt’s eyes. 

He doesn’t know why he decided to sing in front of the entire glee club. He doesn’t understand why he couldn’t have just waited the extra hour until he got home and buried himself under his bed covers and cried. Kurt’s not reacting how he wanted him to at all and it’s just making him hurt more. Kurt’s not jumping out of his seat and professing his love; he’s not slowly realizing how oblivious Blaine’s been with his actions. 

He’s reading the texts of his maybe boyfriend who’s absolutely not Blaine.

And on and on from the moment I wake,
To the moment I sleep,
I'll be there by your side,
Just you try and stop me,
I'll be waiting in line,
Just to see if you care. 

Did you want me to change?
Well I changed for good
And I want you to know.
That you'll always get your way
I wanted to say, don't you shiver? 

The climax of the song is coming up, and Blaine stupidly takes a moment to look at his friends’ faces. With the exception of Finn, Kurt and Brittany, nearly everyone is watching him with a faint look of pity, confusion or final understanding. Rachel’s nearly in tears, big brown eyes wet with emotion, and Artie keeps glancing from Blaine to Tina and Mike’s clasped hands with a sad, heartbroken expression on his face. What strikes the most hurt, though, is the agony painted on Santana’s face as she wavers between relating to the song and trying vainly to deny her feelings. Blaine’s suspected for some time that there’s much more to Santana than most of the club thinks, and from the way she keeps watching Brittany, Blaine would take a gander it’s her sexuality.

However, he can’t say anything now. Not when his own heart is breaking. He’s trying his hardest to not look at Kurt. He’s afraid to meet his eyes and see that Kurt, as smart as he is, has finally been graced with understanding. He doesn’t want pity, especially since he knows that Kurt does not feel the same. He’s wants his love and Blaine doesn’t think that it’s possibly anymore. Blaine Anderson, however, does not have that great of self-control when it comes to Kurt Hummel. His eyes dart over to the older boy before Blaine even realizes that he has. 

Nothing. 

Kurt is watching him with a puzzled expression on his face, his eyes scrunched up and his mouth pursed in concentration. They meet eyes—blue to hazel—and Blaine has a little kernel of hope burning deep his chest that something great will happen and it’ll just hit Kurt like a barrel of bricks. 

It hurts worse than he’ll admit when nothing happens. Kurt shakes his head and glances at his phone, a smile blossoming on his face when he opens a new message. 

The tears come then, one single tear that slips from his eye and drips down his cheek to hit the floor. He wants Kurt to smile at him like that, and Blaine knows that if Kurt ever did direct that smile he would die happily. He wants to watch movies with Kurt and snuggle with him under blankets when it’s Christmastime. He wants to kiss Kurt and find the special spots that make him squirm. He can feel his hatred toward Caleb (and Kurt) leak out as he sings louder and louder. 

And it's you I see, but you don't see me.
And it's you I hear, so loud and so clear
I sing it loud and clear.
And I'll always be waiting for you. 

It’s not fair. He wants something to go right. He wants a boyfriend, and he knows that he would treat Kurt right. He’s spent so many nights thinking about what he would say, the compliments he would tell him, how he would hold him close during scary movies and serenade him whenever and wherever to make him feel special. And now, all his dreams are shattered because he’s just not good enough. His voice grows softer and more pained. He can hear clearly that his voice is barely a whisper by the last, most poignant stanza. 

So I look in your direction,
But you pay me no attention,
And you know how much I need you,
But you never even see me. 

His voice disappears and the band stops playing. He hasn’t stopped looking at Kurt yet, but he’s not looking back up at him. Mr. Schuester, bless his poor heart, begins to raucously clap. He’s enthralled by the performance and so incredibly proud of Blaine—sweet, shy little Blaine—for singing such an emotion song. Mr. Schuester ignores Rachel’s insistent prods to the shoulder, “Blaine! Wow, you killed that song! Would you try out for a solo for Regionals? We’ll win for sure if you sing that.”

It’s the last straw for Blaine, who turns wet eyes to his teacher. Tina is rising to her feet, concern and sympathy clear on her face, but Blaine is shaking and trying to stop himself from bursting into tears into the middle of the choir room. He backs away from her, shaking his head violently and screwing up his face to stop more tears from coming. When he finally can’t take it, he bolts from the room.