Blaring radio and burnt toast raised Tito from the blissful depths of unconsciousness. Rubbing sleep-filled eyes, he threw off his blankets and pushed himself up into a sitting position on the couch. He could tell by the sounds and smell of the place that his cousin was starting up breakfast in the kitchen, humming away to herself. In a flat as small as theirs, you always knew exactly what was going on.

"Tito, you up?" she called, kicking the kitchen door open with her foot and looking in on her dozed little cousin.

"Jesus Christ, Santana!" he groaned, holding his head in his hands. "My head's pounding, take it easy."

"Take it any easier and Imma be late for school! What'd you think you were doing, getting messed up on a school night?"

Tito cocked an eyebrow. "I don't have school nights."

Santana sighed and tied up her hair in the cracked living room mirror. "Whatever. What you do with your life is your own business, but if we're going to keep up this arrangement, you can't keep coming home at three in the morning. I worry about you – you're only fifteen!"

Tito almost felt bad for her then. He had moved in with Santana and her mom last month, and all he seemed to have done was bring more havoc into her life. She already had enough on her plate with her drugged-up, emotionally unstable mom to care for.

Tito was about to apologize when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't even need to check to know who it was. "I gotta go, Santana. I'll be back later."

"Alright, I've Glee practice after school so I'll be home late. Be careful."
With that, he trudged out the door in yesterday's clothes.

Tito sat alone on the chain link swing, looking up at the derelict Lima Heights apartment blocks he had lived in his whole life. It seemed he had done a lot of moving between couches for a kid his age, but never once had he strayed from the blocks. They were the only world he'd ever really understand. In the blocks, you knew who to get on the right side of and who to avoid. In a way, the blocks made more sense than the real world. Pity everyone in them was insane.

Without warning, two heavy hands grabbed his shoulders from behind. Tito jumped a foot in the air, reaching for the handgun he usually kept tucked into his pants. It was gone.

Spinning around, he found his attacker doubled over in laughter.

"Relax, primo, relax! Man, you should've seen your face!" chuckled Alvaro, fanning Tito's gun around.

He was a typical Latin thug – tattoos scrawling out of his wifebeater and a face like sour milk. He was respected around the blocks as a big brother figure, but it wouldn't be long until the cops caught up with him again.

"You packing, Tito?" he said with a grin that took up most of his face.

Tito wasn't so amused.

Alvaro handed the gun back with a laugh. "Keep your eyes open next time you're getting mugged, alright? 'Cos next time it ain't gonna be me. Now – I believe we've some business to attend to."

They made their exchange so quickly an outsider wouldn't have looked twice.

Alvaro ran a little drug ring around the area, so he always a job or two for his buddy Tito. Tito didn't think twice about it, either. Money was money.

"So how are you looking after yourself, Tito? You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"And how about Santana? She still in school?"

Santana was popular around the blocks, but that didn't mean she spent her time dealing and drugging with the rest of them. Maybe that's why she was so respected – walking around in that bright red Cheerio's uniform with her head held high, not letting herself get sucked down into the poverty and hardship. She was angry a lot, sure, and she had a tongue sharper than a blade, but that was a better release than delving into a life of crime.

"Yeah, she's still up in McKinley. Probably the only Latina in the place."

Alvaro laughed away to himself and lit up a joint. "Let's go. I got business downtown."

The rest of the day passed much like the one before, and the one before that. Tito shadowed Alvaro around all the usual spots, picking up cash and dropping off supplies. They called in to Nardo's for a bit, had a smoke, then headed back to the block. Some of their friends were hanging around the yard for the evening, but for some reason, Tito just didn't have the strength, and headed home early.
Making his way up the vandalized, urine-scented stairways, he reached their flat on the 12th floor.

Unsurprising, he arrived at the door to find he had no keys. Santana was at her little club in school, so she wouldn't be back for at least another few hours.

Slowly but surely, Tito began his trek across Lima, leaving the blocks behind him in the distance. All he wanted was a rest, but he supposed he'd have to earn that privilege first.

Plugging into his iPod, he let the smooth sounds of 2Pac flood his brain. He nodded along as he walked;

You know, I wonder if they'll laugh when I am dead
Why am I fighting to live, if I'm just living to fight
Why am I trying to see, when there ain't nothing in sight
Why am I trying to give, when no one gives me a try
Why am I dying to live, if I'm just living to die.

No one got music like Tito did. Well, no one he'd spoken to at home anyway. Santana hummed to herself when she was cooking, but she rarely sang properly in front of him. He'd like that. His mom used to do that.

He made his way through the school entrance, which was now mostly empty, the steady stream of students having left an hour or two ago.

A geeky red-haired woman passed him in the corridor, slightly surprised at his baggy appearance.

"Can I help you with anything?"

Her voice wasn't accusing, surprisingly, like most white women who spoke to him.

"Actually, yeah. Santana Lopez?"

"Oh, sure. Santana's in the auditorium. Straight on and to the left."

He nodded thanks and the young woman scurried on.

Tito gently pressed an ear to the large double door of the auditorium. It was silent, except for a man's voice.

"Alright, this time we've got to step it up vocally, and really get into those steps, guys! From the top!"

The intro music cued and Tito could no longer contain his curiosity. He softly pushed through the doors into the darkened concert hall, taking a seat in the back row.

Onstage, a group of teenagers were getting into their starting positions for the number. Tito half expected them to be wearing ridiculous musical costumes, but they were just normal kids. Then, however, they started to sing.

A short brunette in the front belted out the lyrics to tune Tito didn't recognize, but he had to admit – she had some voice. The harmonies blew him away, and he found himself sitting there with his eyes closed, just soaking it all up.

Then another voice broke out into the lead. It was another girl, but this was different. She wasn't your typical preppy school choir voice. No, she had pure soul. Soul and passion. Tito was physically forced to open his eyes. And that's when he saw her.

Santana.