Not that I really care. What's the point anyway? I get top marks in all of my classes, I'm sure no one would miss me if I just didn't go today.

I rub my eyes and sit up, alerted by another buzzing sound. My phone is ringing. I pick the ancient artifact up and flip it open to find a text from Wesley, my "best friend."

Wes: Hello there Warblers! Don't forget that we will be performing today after school in the Senior Commons at 4:30 sharp.

I send a quick Sure, wouldn't miss it to him before throwing the damned piece of technology down on my floor. It's like he's trying to taunt me. I KNOW I'm not the lead this time Wes.

I shake my head and run to the bathroom, hoping to catch a quick shower. I pull off my clothes and step in the tub, turning the shower on full heat. As I'm washing my hair, I feel a stinging on my arm. Shit.

Before that time, I hadn't even properly looked at the damage I had done. My forearm and wrist are completely covered in raw red lines, already forming nasty looking scabs.

I finish up my shower and get dressed for the day, putting on my crisp, white dress shirt with extra care to be sure not to snag my wounds. I forgo the gel today because really, what's the point and tug on my maroon and navy striped tie.

I take a look at myself in the mirror and sigh. I have horrible bags under my dull eyes and I look even paler than usual. I pick up my satchel from my chair and take one last look before heading out the door, onward to my first class of the day.

~~~~

The day passed by agonizingly slowly as I trudged from class to class. Over six people came up to me and told me that I look terrible. In my head, I was screaming but on the outside I kept my cool and blamed it on a heavy workload.

I dozed off in second period, not really having had much sleep. I didn't get reprimanded, however, because I'm Blaine Anderson and this is for sure a one time thing and it won't happen again, Mrs. Howard.

I fucking hate being a sophomore. I'm forced to sit through these classes about "World History" and "We're going to study Julius Caesar today!"

Okay, I don't really mind Shakespeare. His writing speaks to me on so many levels, and I find him very interesting but other than that I don't care about Pre-Calculus or French III or any of that shit. I just want to perform.

The end of the day comes and suddenly its 4:20 and shit, I have to get to the Commons right now.

I'm rushing down the elegant spiral staircase when someone taps me on my shoulder. Aggravated, I turn around hissing, "What!?" before looking up at the person who tapped me and-- Holy. Shit.

A flash of fear crosses the being's eyes before he mutters, "Sorry to bother you, but would you mind telling me what's going on?" Dumbstruck, I just gape openly at this beautiful boy that is standing before me.

He has beautiful porcelain skin that is hinted with just a dash of rosy red on his chiseled cheeks. Swirling with emotion, his eyes entrance me, because I'm not sure if they're blue or green or-- Oh. Right. He asked a question.

"I'm sorry for snapping. Why don't I just show you? Come on!" I grab his hand and lead him in the opposite direction of where I should be going. I don't care, though, because I am holding his hand! "I'm Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson."

"K-kurt," he stutters out. My mind is reeling as I sneak a glance at him. Ohmygod, is he flustered? Holy shit what.

I lead him, finally into the Senior Commons where most of the Warblers already are, practicing the harmonies for the performance. I stop and turn around to face him, watching as he takes in the room. "I'm guessing you're new here?"

He nods sharply and continues to take in the room. "I just transferred from McKinley. What's happening here? It's my first day, I'm very confused."

My face turns apologetic as I take in his guarded expression. I will make your walls crumble.

"Sorry, sorry! The Warblers, we're the glee club here at Dalton, like to throw performances for our fellow students sometimes. it just so happens that you're about to witness one!"

"Blaine!" My name is screeched from across the room

"Ah, the Warblers beckon. Well, enjoy," I say as I run across he room to face a very angry looking Wes. "Sorry, we have a new student. I was just helping him."

A few boys snorted amidst the group. "That's very nice and all Prince Charming, but get in formation! Showtime!"

"Geez, Wes. Don't get your gavel in a twist," I mutter as I step into line.

The backing beats sound and I belt out the harmonies, feeling so strange not to be in that spotlight. I sway with the rest, keeping a close eye on Kurt, who seems to be enjoying himself. Nick sounds great, but I'm so much better.

I let my facade falter a bit and a foul expression makes its presence on my face. I glare at Nick, who is singing is heart out in the front of the group. He needs to stop! Mine. mine. MINE!

But before I know it, we're done and our audience is praising us. Everyone runs up to Nick and tells him how great he was and I'm so glad someone else finally got a chance to sing.

I stride away from the group, searching for Kurt. He's standing just a little off to the side, smiling and clutching his bag.

Upon approaching him, I grin widely and ask, "So? How did you like it?"

He smiles and replies, "Oh, you guys were great! So different from my old glee club."

"Oh, you sing?"

"Yes, and very well if I do say so myself. Not that my old glee club used to acknowledge it, but whatever. Are you okay? Maybe it's not my place to ask, but you seemed a little angry during the performance," he quickly backtracks, "Not that I was watching you o-of course, I-I mean--"

I chuckle at his obviously flustered expression. I put on my best Dapper Anderson face and ask, "Would you like to get some coffee with me? We'll be able to talk more with less crowds."

His perfect mouth forms a tiny "o" and he manages to squeak out, "Um, s-sure."