Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did… well, I actually don't know how I would change any more because it seems like so many of the things I wanted to change about what was going on when I first started the fics either have changed or are changing!

A/n: So this has been kind of chilling out on my computer for a while now, waiting for me to do something with it. I randomly found this earlier today while I was trying to clean up my folders and decided that I should actually do something with this.

Blaine Anderson didn't recognize the face he saw in the mirror anymore. The contacts were gone, as was the hair gel that he'd used every day at Dalton. He'd let his hair grow out over the summer so that it was actually curly, and it hung down to the point that it would have covered the collar of his blazer. If he'd still had to wear his Dalton blazer, anyway. The black wire frames of his glasses made him look older than before, as did the dark circles that had formed under his eyes. His face was thinner and paler than it had been before, although that was primarily thanks to having spent the last week of July in the hospital having his appendix taken out. He was still sore, but he didn't want to miss the first day of school. It was going to be awkward enough being the new kid on his first day of senior year; the last thing he really wanted was to be obvious about the fact that he was new by showing up a day or two late.

"You don't have to go in today. I'm sure they'll excuse you for a few days, until you're feeling better." Blaine looked away from the mirror, forcing a smile for his grandmother's benefit.

"I'm fine, Gamma."

"If you start feeling sick, just call me and I'll come pick you up. If you're going to go, I'm going to drive you."

"I have a car…" Blaine began.

"And you had surgery less than three weeks ago. Not to mention the near-death experience of actually having your appendix rupture. You haven't been cleared to drive yet, and you aren't riding the bus," his grandmother replied, putting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him towards the door. "Get your bag, breakfast is on the table. We need to leave soon for school since you're insisting on going."

Blaine was careful to throw his messenger bag across the opposite side of his body; if he'd worn it the same way as always, the strap would have pressed against the incision on his stomach in an uncomfortable way. He glanced in the full-length mirror again, before he realized that he sort of looked like he was trying to be one of the Jonas brothers – he had a gray v-neck tee on underneath a black wool vest, with skinny jeans and a pair of black leather flip-flops. The only thing that didn't really work with the outfit was the brown leather of his messenger bag, but that couldn't be changed. He'd had the bag since his freshman year, and he didn't really want something different. It was almost comforting to have something so familiar with him.

Blaine had every intention of hurrying down the stairs, until he remembered that going up and down the stairs was still uncomfortable. The movement tugged on the scar tissue on his abdomen, and even though the stitches were gone it still felt as if he was going to tear the incision open again. He dropped his bag in one of the chairs at the kitchen table before sitting in his usual place so that he could eat something. The combination of nerves and the recent surgery affected his appetite, and not in a good way. Blaine only got through half a piece of toast before he couldn't force any more down.

"You need to eat more than that if you're going to school today." Blaine shrugged at his grandfather's words.

"I'm just not hungry. Nerves," Blaine explained.

"I'm just going on record as saying I don't think this is a good idea. You're still moving pretty slowly, and kids are kind of rough…"

"I'll be fine, Pops… if I start feeling bad I'll call."

"Just stay home one more day, Blaine. Get some more rest."

"I've been doing nothing but rest since I got out of the hospital over a week ago. It's bad enough that I'm going to a new school… showing up after the first day of the semester would just make it worse."

"You could always go back to Dalton. Next week. The account your father left has more than enough to pay your tuition, and he said that if you want to go back he'll transfer more for you," his grandfather commented. Blaine shook his head, sighing.

"I can't go back, Pops. I need to do this… McKinley's going to be more like the real world than Dalton will ever be, and I need to get used to it. I have to get used to a whole lot of ugly coming at me from a never-ending parade of stupid." Blaine smiled as his grandfather laughed at the reference to Hairspray. At least his family understood his slight obsession with Broadway musicals and therefore recognized the random references he occasionally used.

"Just don't let their ignorance get to you… you're a strong kid, but you aren't going to last if you let a bunch of stupid kids who don't know any better mess with your head."

"I know, Pops."

"We'd better go, Blaine. You don't want to be late."

The car ride from his grandparents' house to McKinley wasn't long, even with morning traffic. He bit his lip as they pulled into the line of other parents dropping off their kids. "Remember, if you start feeling sick or too tired, just call me and I'll come pick you up."

"I will, Gamma."

"Have a good day, sweetheart." Blaine opened the door and got out, wincing as he heard the car behind them start to honk because he was moving too slowly. He lifted his bag onto his left shoulder, waving briefly to his grandmother as he walked towards the building. He remembered where the office was from the day he and his father had visited the school to make sure he was enrolled, right before his father had left for Dubai and he'd ended up in the hospital with appendicitis.

Blaine's schedule was waiting for him in the office, as was a map of the school that the secretary kindly highlighted to show him roughly where all of his classes were taking place. Once he had the map it was fairly easy for him to find his way to his economics class, but finding a seat proved to be difficult. He'd been given a late slip in the office because it had taken the secretary a little while to get everything organized and help him; the warning bell had already rung before he'd gotten out to the hallway.

"Take a seat, Mr. Anderson. I was just about to start passing out textbooks." Blaine nodded, taking the syllabus that the teacher handed to him and making his way to the only available seat in the room – dead center on the front row. Not exactly where Blaine would have chosen, but better than being stuck in the back corner.

"You feeling alright? You look a little pale, dude." Blaine glanced at the other person sharing his table, smiling slightly as he recognized the face.

"I'm fine, Puck. Just not feeling so hot at the moment." Blaine watched as the boy's face contorted in confusion for a moment before he realized who Blaine was.

"Wait… what are you doing at McKinley, Prep School?"

"I go here now. It was sort of a last-minute thing…" Blaine glanced down at the paper the teacher had given him, hoping Puck wouldn't ask the one question that Blaine knew was probably going to come.

"Does Kurt know you're here?" Blaine sighed, closing his eyes before he shook his head.

"Kurt and I haven't spoken since June. He… we needed some time apart." Blaine reached up and pushed some of his curls back behind one of his ears to get them out of his face.

"Wait… you two are broken up?" Blaine nodded. "So I guess I'm not going to be able to talk you into auditioning for New Directions, am I?"

"I don't know if Kurt would be okay with me being in glee club. He sort of made it clear that he didn't want anything to do with me for a while."

"What the hell did you do?" Puck asked. He looked pretty pissed off at the thought that Blaine might have actually done something that would have hurt Kurt.

"It's a long story… I don't think we have time for me to explain something like that right now."