Words: 1,357
Summary: Blaine meets Skank!Kurt because he punched a guy and hand-holding ensues…
Warning: Language
Blaine had just snapped.
He hadn't meant to. He doesn't ever mean to, god, he doesn't. But there was a lot of shouting and suddenly he was being pushed and usually Blaine can hold his breath and pretend to not hear them. But he hit back and then he ran. He knew the gym was on the other side of the school grounds and there was no way he could get to it quick enough, not with his blood pounding and him on the verge of panic attack so he ran for the nearest quiet place, a park across the street.
Blaine has gotten so good at controlling his emotions, between boxing and his father's word, he shoved his emotions into small box tucked away in his mind driving them into pleasant winds instead of the high waves they were prone to be, crashing and consuming him.
His feet thundered on the ground as he ran. He was always pushing himself to the limit these days, with the stress of his father pushing him to do better in school so he could get into an Ivy League university, and the pressure of his mother, "You just need to find the right girl, sweetie. It's just a phase." He was already going planning on going to school to be a doctor, instead of the music major he wanted. What more did they want for him? He was just so angry, stressed, pulling himself too tight.
He was just wound too tight.
So when somebody called him a fag in his English class, well what could he do? The guy probably wasn't expecting to be punched in the face seeing as how the guy he had pushed and insulted was wearing a bowtie. But Blaine was always high strung these days so who knew.
Blaine's heart thudded in his chest, so fast, pounding. His breath caught in the wind, his legs were burning when he finally slowed down. He was deep in the park, away from that school. He bent over, leaning against a tree.
He had just punched somebody, albeit, an asshole, but still.
His father was going to beat the shit out of him.
He couldn't fuck up. Punching a guy on the face then skipping class that was fucking up. That was "You're such a disappointment," kind of fuck up.
God when did it ever stop?
He sunk down and buried his head between his knees.
Blaine had wanted to go to Dalton, it just seemed like heaven, but his father had said "No. You're going back there and you're going to show them no fear." No fear. Too much fear. Blaine wasn't cracking because of anger. The cracks that lined his heart were from being so fucking terrified all the time. Every time he walked down the hall he could feel the cold pavement along his body. Every time somebody got too loud in class he could feel his heart begin to initiate the fight or flight response. But he controlled it, mind over matter right? He shoved his emotions so deep down inside that he barely felt anything anymore.
He just had to get out.
The fall winds brushed against him, a slight cold biting touch they held. Blaine shivered. A thought hit him.
Couple weeks into your junior year and you already punch a guy, fantastic, Blaine well done.
"Shit!" He exclaimed throwing his head up to the sky.
"What a dirty mouth on such a dapper boy." A sly voice spoke from the shadows.
Blaine jumped up, his heart in his throat.
"Who-"
A tall boy emerged from behind a tree, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his pink lips. Blaine openly gaped. The boy was gorgeous, like male model gorgeous. Smoke bloomed around him, as he slowly finished his cigarette off. His jacket was true leather; Blaine knew it, sinfully black. His top was white with a hold near his trim waist. His black jeans were snug against his hips, thighs, calves, and oh my god, Blaine wanted to slowly peel them off while whispering the filthiest things in his ear.
He pulled the cigarette from his lips, the smoke doing a final twirl in the afternoon air, before he flicked it from his fingers and effectively stamping it out.
Blaine was gay and his mother needed to seriously reevaluate her definition of phase.
Blaine's eyes flickered back to the boy's angelic features, high cheekbones, pink delicious lips, and dangerous blue eyes. They were that color that happened when the ocean met the sky and danced together, so beautiful, he probably had broken plenty of hearts with them. The boy was slightly taller than Blaine, his brown hair standing with a singular pink streak running through it. Blaine's hands itched to touch. He needed to touch this sinful angel in front of him.
The boy stepped closer suddenly, a smirk dancing on his face. His pierced eyebrow raised. "Let me guess, straight… but totally willing to experiment."
Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Umm… No. Um. Gay. Totally. Gay. Yeah."
The boy's eyes lit up.
"Kurt."
"What?"
"My name is Kurt."
"Oh. My name is… Blaine."
"Okay… Blaine." Kurt stepped closer. "What do you say we get to know each other a little more, hm?"
Blaine laughed nervously. His mind was a pile of goo. He honestly had no clue what to do, to say. Usually boys didn't come onto Blaine. In fact boys usually beat the crap out of Blaine and let him bleed to death, then continue to insult him and push him. Blaine had punched a boy earlier. Blaine didn't really have good experiences with the same gender. But, god, did he want to.
"I'm a virgin."
Oh my god what the fuck Blaine you don't just say that to people who proposition you.
Kurt laughed loudly and it was like a violin, crescendo playing softly in the distance with summer winds, twinkling.
"Well, Virgin Blaine how about-"
"I punched somebody today."
And more word vomit, spilling all over Blaine's shoes. Jesus, can't he just keep his mouth shut and nod. Just nod, nothing else, maybe life would be easier if he never said anything else ever again.
Kurt's eyebrows furrowed together. His face scrunched up between worry and slight exasperation. Worry, because something had leaked into Blaine's voice when he said that. Something Kurt was all too familiar with.
Fear.
"Oh my god. I didn't mean to umm… Okay well I hit him because he was being a massive asshole alright? All day he's just been calling me stupid names and then he pushed me and I reacted on instinct, because I've taken boxing recently, and oh you don't want to listen to this, I'm so sorry it doesn't matter I just…" Blaine began to walk away.
Kurt snatched his wrist. Blaine looked back. Kurt's face only shown worry now, his eyes flooded with some emotion that Blaine couldn't detect.
"It does matter."
Blaine blinked. He heard the unspoken message.
You matter.
Blaine sank down to the forest floor, pulling Kurt with him. He didn't know who Kurt was but he felt something around him. Kurt's jeans made Blaine's heart thump faster but so did his entire body. Blaine's body was practically thrumming around him already. Kurt had unlocked his Pandora box of emotions and now Blaine couldn't even grasp his own heartbeat. Kurt with his pale face and his clear blue eyes made Blaine want to crumble into little tiny Blaine pieces.
Blaine sat with Kurt that afternoon, the biting fall wind swirling around him, and told him all about his really shitty day at school.
Afterwards, Kurt had stood, gripping Blaine's hand.
"Let's take a walk."
"Aren't you too cool for that?"
"Shut up."
Blaine stood, holding onto Kurt's hand desperately.
They walked hand in hand in the park as Kurt's voice filled the air and even those his clothes screamed "I don't give a fuck." He had quite a few choice words about the latest politics and Vogue issue and in that moment Blaine knew.
He knew he would keep holding Kurt's hand.