Chapter 1
Kurt flung out an arm onto the surrounding grass in frustration, lamenting (not for the first time) the fact that smoking was such an outdoorsy activity. He squinted angrily up at the sun and shoved his sunglasses further up his nose, fruitlessly willing the cloud to shift just a tiny bit to the right so it would offer him a glimmer of relief from the blazing heat.
He had been enjoying an unscheduled (and not entirely permitted) break on the grassy slope next to the bleachers, idly sucking on a cigarette whilst considering which colours to streak his hair with next. (Maybe green? Green was suitably unexpected and different.) He was enjoying it, that was, before the sun had decided to make an appearance. The sun made everything seem harder. So much more energy was required in the heat. Sunglasses had to be dug out. Black skinny jeans became slightly uncomfortable. Doc Martens began to rub. His beanie began to scratch irritably at the back of his neck. Not to mention the light that reflected off his various piercings, nearly blinding him in the reflection from his phone.
It was, all things considered, an absolute nightmare.
A high-pitched shriek sounded from down on the football field. Kurt groaned. Apparently the appearance of the sun also meant that the Cheerios had their practice out on the pitch instead of in the gym. Fucking great.
He propped himself up on one elbow and glared disdainfully down as they made their way out onto the track and started their warm-ups. He slowly dragged on the cigarette between his lips, watching now with amusement as the swarm of perky red and white uniforms arranged themselves in a variety of completely unimaginative shapes with varying levels of success.
And then, as if the universe was conspiring against him (Would he ever be able to have a fucking cigarette in peace?) the tinny speakers above him crackled into life, spouting out some pop-py, Top 40 fucking crime of a song . He flopped back down onto the grass with a deep sigh, feeling around with one hand for his bag. He finally grabbed it and pulled it closer to his side. Flipping open the messenger flap, he tucked safely away the corner of a silk scarf poking out of one of the front pockets, before digging around for his headphones. He unwound them quickly and jammed them over his head. He was going for limited exposure - he knew that kind of 'music' was contagious.
He pressed play, closed his eyes and shut out the world. Finally, finally he could lose himself in a glorious world of heady smoke and beautiful boys wielding guitars.
Kurt woke to a smack on the arm and his headphones being dragged from his ears.
"Oi!," he barked, struggling to sit up as he untangled himself from the wires of his headphones.
Quinn stood in front of him, arms half crossed across her chest with her cigarette pinched between graceful fingers. She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Bitch," he muttered. "I was quite happy there, thanks."
"You weren't going to invite me?" she asked. "I just sat through an hour of Hoffenburg rambling on about some boring shit while you were here the whole time? You couldn't have shot me a text so I could skip too?"
"So sorry," Kurt retorted. He shifted slightly on the grass, careful to avoid potential grass stains as he fished around for his severely squashed pack of cigarettes in his jeans' pocket. He drew one between his lips. "I was busy. Couldn't text. No time."
Quinn scoffed lightly. "Yeah, okay. Whatever." She settled herself down on the grass next to Kurt.
"You'll be really sad to hear that you missed another riveting performance from the nude erections while you were down here at lunch," she continued, idly picking at the grass around her feet. "They keep managing to get more and more shitty. I don't know how they do it. Must be a gift."
Kurt shrugged noncommittally. He had never really given any of the glee kids much thought. Generally he tried to steer clear of them as much as possible. They were just so obnoxiously enthusiastic about everything. It was very tiring.
"As long as they don't start bursting into song under the bleachers I don't really give a fuck."
Quinn nodded, flicking the ashes from her cigarette to the side before lying down next to him. She growled in annoyance as she shifted restlessly on the grass, trying to arrange her long black skirt to sit comfortably beneath her. Heat and a love of layers did not mix well.
She brought the pink-rimmed sunglasses down from where they were perched on her head, scowling up at the source of heat. "Fucking sun."
The corners of Kurt's mouth twitched upwards in silent agreement.
Blaine's first week at McKinley High had gone by in a hectic whirlwind as he had tried to grasp an understanding of the school around him. It seemed to have the same cliche rigid and unyielding social ladder he remembered all too well from his first high school. He knew exactly where on that ladder he was supposed to be - his feet would never leave the ground.
He refused to look at it as anything other than a good thing. If he was at the bottom of the food-chain it meant he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted. Nobody had any expectations of him and how he was supposed to act other than keeping out of the way of jocks and cheerleaders.
That meant that the first thing Blaine had ensured do after getting his schedule was sign-up for Glee Club. It had become his life at Dalton - the centre of all friendships and relationships, all his free time had been spent hanging with the Warblers. He hoped that New Directions would be the same. They had looked like a proper group at least, when he watched them perform in the courtyard one lunchtime. He had been pleased to see that most of them had had the chance of a few lines of solo, or at least a dance solo. In the Warblers he had tried to share the wealth of solos, but most of their numbers ended up being his and his alone. He squirmed a bit with embarrassment remembering how little he had actually actively fought against that. The New Directions looked like they would be a welcome change of pace.
The morning of his first meeting dawned bright, the fall sun streaming through his windows. He woke at the first chirp of his alarm and wiggled his toes in the warm sunlight under the covers. A grin made its way across his face. Today would be a good day.
He bounced out of bed, and showered and dressed in record time. He had carefully laid out his 'audition outfit' the night before: red high-waters neatly pressed and black polo folded smartly on the chair in the corner of his room, bow tie resting over the arm.
Once he was all set, he considered his reflection in the mirror with a critical eye: hair gelled neatly down, stripy bow-tie knotted tightly at his neck and trousers smoothed carefully down his legs. He twisted the bow-tie slightly, slid on his shoes and grabbed his keys.
He was ready.
The day passed quickly in a blur of classes and new friends; before he knew it the last bell had gone and it was time to make his way down to the choir room.
If he could find it, that was.
He was sure it was around here somewhere. He wandered around the corridors, figuring he would at least hear some singing to guide him. After a couple of minutes and still nothing, he guessed he must be on the wrong floor and made his way to the only staircase he knew: the metal steps winding their way up the walls of the courtyard. He turned the corner and made his way up from the ground floor.
He came to an abrupt halt when he realised there was someone sitting on the floor between the two flights of stairs.
He recognised him from around the halls. The boy had always been seemingly inseparable from the pink-haired girl, but now he was alone. He was resting back against the mesh railings, one leg flung out straight ahead of him, the other tucked up with his elbow resting on it as he lazily waved around a cigarette to the beat of music inaudible to Blaine. He had a chunky set of headphones resting over an artfully placed beanie. Peeking out from the front of the grey hat was a shock of multi-coloured hair effortlessly swept-up into a quiff. Numerous piercings glinted out at Blaine - he could see at least three in each ear, a couple in his eyebrows, one in his bottom lip, and, going by the clicking sound the boy was making as he shifted his jaw back and forth, a tongue bar.
He was dressed in a slightly faded black v-neck which contrasted stunningly with his pale ivory skin, collar bones showing as his neck contracted to breathe out the smoke as slowly as he could.
Blaine's gaze gradually made its way back up to his face. It had gentle features underneath all the hardware - a cute, upturned nose and wide, soft lips.
He was unlike anyone Blaine had ever met before.
The boy's ice-blue gaze bored into his hazel. Blaine started and flushed slightly with embarrassment as he realised how long he'd been staring at him. He swallowed thickly and forced a smile onto his face.
"Hi!" he said brightly, "I was wondering if you could help me?"
The boy made no response. He continued to stare at Blaine, taking slow drags on his cigarette.
Blaine persisted, widening his smile. "Please?" he implored, "I'm new here and a bit lost."
The boy heaved a deep sigh and raised a hand to his headphones, dragging one of the earpieces back to rest on the side of his head.
"What do you want?" he grudgingly asked. His voice was slightly raspy - whether from disuse or the cigarettes he smoked Blaine wasn't sure.
"Directions, please." he replied thankfully, "I can't seem to find the choir room. I thought I knew where it was, but I guess not!"
"The choir room?" he smirked. "Should have guessed. You're the fucking same as the rest of them. Well, you'll fit right in anyway."
Blaine wasn't entirely sure how to take that. He decided to move on as quickly as possible.
"So, um, how do I get there?"
"Back the way you came. Turn left at the bottom of the stairs and keep going. It's on the right. You can't miss it. Unfortunately."
"Thank you so much." he smiled down at the boy gratefully. "I'm Blaine, by the way." He stuck his hand out.
The boy eyed it warily. Eventually he sighed, transferred his cigarette to the other hand and grasped it. "Kurt."
"Pleasure to meet you, Kurt!" he chirped.
Blaine knew he was carrying this conversation somewhat, but found he didn't really mind. After only a few minutes speaking to him, this boy fascinated him.
Whenever he had seen him in the hallways around school before, a cloud of cool indifference seemed to follow him and the girl around, mingling with the ever-present blanket of smoke to ensure that no-one ever came near them. They were untouchable. Never even speaking up in class, they drifted around school with an air of nonchalance and superiority. They clearly thought school was a waste of their time.
So why was he still here when he didn't have to be?
He wanted to know him.
"You might want to be careful," he advised, for want of something else to say.
Kurt tilted his head in a silent question.
"Sitting there. Smoking," he continued. "There are loads of teachers about. I'm pretty sure it's against school rules to smoke on school property, not to mention it's probably illegal as well."
"How kind of you to consider my well-being," Kurt drawled. "I'm sure I'll be fine, thanks so much for that brand new information. I'll be sure to keep a watchful eye out for those pesky teachers you speak of."
He drew the headphones back over his ear and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the railings. It was a clear dismissal.
Blaine shook his head slightly in disbelief. He was just trying to help.
Shaking himself off, he turned and made his way back down the stairs.
Even as he heard the unmistakable sound of the New Directions warming up in the distance, his thoughts drifted back to a certain ivory-skinned boy. How long was he going to stay sat halfway up that staircase?
And how had he managed to capture Blaine so completely after a single stunted conversation?
A/N: Thanks for reading! This is just a short introductory chapter. - the later chapters are longer. I currently have 7 chapters, so I will be updating every couple of days :)
