Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or its characters. This is for fun, not profit.

Where it Starts it Ends (and Begins Again)
Chapter One

Kurt's death-grip on the strap of his bag tightened as his dad killed the engine in the parking lot of Dalton Academy and looked back at him.

"Ready?"

"No."

Carole looked back at him now, a sympathetic smile playing on her face.

"It won't be so horrible, Kurt," she said. "Your dad and I already spoke to Katherine — she's supposed to be your therapist while you're here. She sounds very nice."

Kurt sunk back into his seat and folded his arms over his chest.

"Oh, good," he said facetiously, "then I guess I have nothing to worry about."

He saw his dad and Carole exchange a look, and this only served to infuriate him further. He opened the door of the car and stepped out, taking care to slam it behind him. Burt and Carole ignored this, instead opening the trunk and taking a suitcase each. Kurt looked at the campus before him: it was, admittedly, bigger and much classier than he'd imagined. There was the main building right up front, in front of which stood a large marble statue proclaiming it "Dalton Academy." Behind it were three other buildings, each very large and very intimidating. Kurt imagined one of them must be the school, and possibly the other two were the dormitories. In any case, his parents were already heading toward the main building, so with a heavy sigh and a last glance at the car he followed.

Less than an hour later Kurt found himself sitting in an office inside of one of the dorm buildings with a woman named Rebecca. She'd asked him at least ten thousand irrelevant questions, including whether he had any piercings or tattoos, and then handed him a large binder and told him to read through the Dalton Handbook while she went to get his uniform.

The handbook unnerved him, to say the least. It went over the schedule for weekdays and weekends, explained about "levels" and how they affected off-campus privileges and home visits, and warned him about punishments.

When Rebecca returned around ten minutes later she was carrying several pairs of khaki-colored slacks, polo shirts, blazers, and ties. Kurt eyed them with a raised eyebrow.

"I think these should be your size," Rebecca said, handing them to Kurt. "You can try them on when you get to your dorm. You'll wear that uniform during weekdays, and on weekends you are permitted to wear a pair of jeans and any Dalton shirt." She laughed. "Although you should have read that in the handbook. Did you finish?"

"Yes," he said, handing it back.

"Any questions?"

"Uh, yes. " He rubbed his hands on his thighs nervously. "I didn't exactly understand what levels are."

"Simple enough," she said with a smile. "I'll explain on the way to your dorm, how about that?"

Kurt shrugged and stood, following her out of the office and into one of the many corridors of his new dormitory building.

"Everyone starts out as a level one," she explained, "unless they're over eighteen and come here willingly, in which case they start as a one-plus. The levels progress in the same way: that is, two-minus, two, two-plus, three-minus, etc., and goes up to a four. When you reach level four you gain independent off-campus privileges, and you are expected to find a job. Your graduation will depend upon your success as a four. Most boys graduate within a few months of reaching that level."

"A few months?" Kurt spluttered, stopping in his tracks. Rebecca looked back at him and smirked. Her amusement infuriated him.

"Oh, yes. It generally takes about a year to graduate, and that's without level-drops. At the beginning of every month you will have to fill out a petition for a level raise. The therapists all get together and discuss each student and decide whether they drop, stay, or raise."

Rebecca led Kurt past a large window and he briefly contemplated jumping out. This was so utterly unfair. He didn't belong here! Why couldn't his parents have just sent him to a therapist? It would have been less expensive than Dalton, that was for certain! They could have gone on their honeymoon, and he wouldn't be stuck here for God knew how long!

"It'll become clearer as you live here," Rebecca said, snapping him out of his miserable thoughts. "Anyway, here we are!" They'd come to the end of a long hallway and stopped at a door on the left hand side. Big brass symbols in the middle of the door dubbed the room "33C."

Kurt was very aware of the lack of locks on the door as Rebecca pushed it open and ushered him inside.

The first thing Kurt noticed was the inhabited side of the room: it screamed "a teenage boy lives here!" There were bags of chips on the bed and the desk, books scattered about the floor, and arbitrary articles of clothing lying here and there. However, to Kurt's immense surprise, it didn't smell bad. Indeed, it smelled rather . . . enticing. Like some sort of cologne.

"Oh God," Rebecca grumbled, and Kurt watched her stalk over to the cluttered desk and snatch something off the top. When she turned he saw that it was a pack of cigarettes. His eyebrows raised beneath his hairline.

"Are those . . . ?"

"He'll be hearing about it," she said gravely. "His name is Blaine Anderson. Everyone's at school right now, you'll meet them later on. Every Tuesday we have a House meeting in the common room, so you came on an excellent day." She checked her watch. "It's just after one now. Your therapist, Katherine, will be up here shortly to bring you your stuff. They have to go through it first —"

"What?"

She chuckled. "Not to worry. It's just to make sure you don't have any weapons, potentially harmful objects, drugs, or . . ." She held up the cigarettes. "Anything like this. I'm sure you'll be fine, Kurt." She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him the first genuine smile he'd seen on her face all day. "I'll be in my office. You're always welcome to knock on my door, alright? Oh, and remember to change into your uniform. You'll have to be wearing it when you go to the House meeting later."

He nodded. She squeezed his shoulder, gave him another comforting grin, and then left. He turned to his side of the room, which looked as though it had been cleaned recently. He walked over to the bed and ran his fingers over the comforter, sneering when he felt the texture. He'd have to ask his parents to send one from home if he planned on getting any sleep here.

He looked at the door, wondering when Katherine would arrive, and then glanced at the uniform. It was with a very heavy sigh that he removed his clothing — the last symbol of anything relatively normal — and changed into the clothes Rebecca had given him.

It wasn't too horrible, he decided as he glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror. Perhaps the pants could have been tighter, but there was nothing he could do about that.

A knock on the door tore his eyes away from his reflection. When he went back into the room he saw an older woman peeking her head in. She was tall and skinny and had her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. Possibly the most unnerving thing about her appearance, however, was the cross hanging from her neck.

Hope she's not a homophobe, he thought as she made her way across the room to him, his suitcase in her hand, or I'm bound to be a level one for quite some time.

It took him two hours to get set up. While he didn't have all his clothes, he still took his time putting all the uniforms away, and then there were his amenities to deal with. He'd set everything up on his side of the bathroom counter before worrying that his roommate would mess with them, and therefore deciding to put them on his desk. However, once he'd unpacked all his books, he discovered he needed the space, and put all his conditioners and moisturizers back in the bathroom.

When three o 'clock rolled around Rebecca came back to get him.

"Wonderful," she said, patting down the lapels of his blazer and adjusting his tie. "I knew it would fit. Did Katherine bring your stuff?"

Kurt nodded and she peeked into the room, smiling when she saw everything set up.

"Perfect. So, are you ready to meet the other boys in your House?"

Kurt shrugged. "Guess so."

Rebecca laughed and put an arm around his shoulder.

"They're nice boys, don't worry."

He wanted to remind her that if they were such nice boys they wouldn't be in this ridiculous place, but chose to keep his mouth shut. She led him to a large room on the second floor that housed a giant, flat screen TV and a massive beige couch which formed a half square in the middle of the room. At least thirty boys, all in their Dalton uniforms, were sprawled out on the couch, some of them laughing, some of them talking quietly, and a few keeping to themselves. Not many of them, Kurt noted, were very attractive.

"Boys!" Rebecca shouted, and they all turned to her. "If you'll all calm down for a moment, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Kurt felt his cheeks turning what was sure to be a deep shade of red as every eye fell on him.

"This is Kurt. He's just arrived this morning." There was a smattering of "hi"s and "hello"s and his face reddened further. Rebecca smiled at him. "If you'd like to take a seat on the couch, Kurt, we can start the meeting."

He nodded and went to sit at the very edge, feeling extremely uncomfortable. Throughout the meeting (during which they discussed events from the week, so Kurt did not take part) he felt the eyes of all the boys continuously coming back to him. He only looked up a few times.

It lasted a good half hour. When Rebecca had declared it over, some of the boys left to go back to their dorms while other stayed in the common room.

"Blaine!" Rebecca called, and a boy Kurt hadn't noticed (probably due to his refusal to look at anyone) turned around. If everyone else in this place was mildly unattractive, this boy was above and beyond average. His hair was short, but it was thick and dark and curly and Kurt wanted to run his hands through it. His face was incredibly handsome, but his eyes . . . It felt to Kurt as though his throat had closed up and his tongue had swelled to twice its normal size.

"Yes, ma'am?" Blaine said with a smirk. Kurt was astounded to see Rebecca's cheeks flush.

"Kurt is your new roommate. Would you care to give him a tour of the building?"

Blaine's lovely eyes landed on him and Kurt had to fight the automatic urge to look away.

"Love to," Blaine said, his eyes never leaving Kurt.

"Wonderful." She turned to Kurt. "Enjoy your night! I won't see you at dinner, but I'll check up on you tomorrow morning."

Rebecca left the room and Blaine finally looked away from Kurt as he headed to the door. However, he looked back again when he opened the door and gestured for Kurt to go through ahead of him. Kurt wondered briefly how many times he could blush today.

"So, why'd you get shipped here?" Blaine asked as they started down the corridor. He flashed Kurt a cheeky smile that gave him butterflies.

"Um . . . I'm sorry, I don't really feel like talking about that," he said quietly, looking away from the unnervingly handsome boy beside him and his flirtatious smile.

"Is it really bad or embarrassingly boring?"

Kurt turned to look at him. "Excuse me?"

Blaine chuckled. Put a hand on his shoulder. "Nothing. Don't worry about it." With the hand not resting on Kurt's shoulder he gestured to a door, next to which a plaque read "Study Room." "This, in case you can't tell for yourself, is the study."

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. Blaine saw this and his eyes sparkled. And while they were certainly gorgeous eyes, Kurt, for the first time, noticed something strange. Within that teasing sparkle was something almost maniacal. As though under this charming exterior was something dangerous.

And Kurt hated the fact that this made Blaine all the more attractive.

"And that's about it," he laughed. "I'm not quite sure why you'd need a tour. School's in the other building. And the cafeteria. You've seen the common room. We could always go back to our room." The way Blaine's eyes roved over Kurt's body as he said this last caused him to blush. Again.

"I . . . Um, yeah, sure." He swallowed thickly and looked down the corridor. "I don't think I could find it again yet, actually."

Kurt stopped breathing for a second when Blaine reached out and grabbed his hand, leading him to the elevators. Inside the elevator he never released Kurt's hand, and he continued holding it all the way until they reached their dorm. At this point he let go, only to hold the door open and usher Kurt inside.

Kurt smiled at him — while avoiding eye contact — and went to sit down on his bed. He watched Blaine walk over to his desk, scrunch his eyebrows, and then roll his eyes.

"Rebecca took them," Kurt said. Blaine turned to look at him, appearing confused. "Your cigarettes," he clarified, pointing at Blaine's desk. "She saw them when she brought me here before."

Blaine huffed, then proceeded to open a drawer and take out another pack. Kurt's eyebrows rose.

"You know," Blaine muttered as he tore off the plastic, "that's seven bucks down the drain."

"Maybe you shouldn't buy cigarettes," Kurt suggested. Blaine smirked up at him.

"Yeah. And maybe you shouldn't buy designer clothes."

Kurt had been about to roll his eyes when he remembered Blaine had never seen his regular wardrobe.

"How do you know I wear designer clothes?"

Blaine shrugged as he rummaged in his drawer for something else. "I could tell."

Kurt wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

Blaine found what he'd been looking for — a red lighter, apparently — and smiled much too widely at Kurt.

"Take it as a compliment, babe." And with a wink and another cheesy smirk he walked out of the room, leaving Kurt sitting on his bed with his mouth hanging wide open and his stomach fluttering.