A/N: Hey everyone! Oh look, it's a new story! I got my inspirations for this off This Boy's Life and The Outsiders, both fantastic books and movies! I recommend them! So anyway, this story's a little bit different! A few of Glee characters are all different and bad boy, and some others are stuck-up and posh and all that! Also, there's some OCs! I really hope you enjoy, and reviews are much appreciated! :)

"I wish you'd stop using that black crap on your nails, short stuff."

"It's called nail polish. And don't call me short stuff."

Hey, my name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I'm seventeen years old and I live in Ohio. I guess what I should tell you next is that I'm part of a group that are known around town as the Bad Kids. We wear leather, we smoke and drink and other things. We do what people would consider bad stuff. People look down on us. We don't got a good reputation. Thing is, we couldn't give two shits.

That loudmouth talking about the "black crap on my nails" is my older brother, Luke. He's part of the Bad Kids, too. He's pretty over-protective of me, even though we've got our Momma. He's tough, Luke is. He's a lot tougher than me. We're close. I care about him a lot.

"You're five-eight, B. You're short," Luke said with a shrug. I just rolled my eyes.

"We got work tonight?" I asked him.

"Yep. Topper's picking us up. Pretty soon, actually."

Topper was another one of our friends, another one of the Bad Kids. He was nicknamed Topper because when he fucks chicks (and sometimes dudes) he's always on top. Topper's a big flirty sort of guy. Dude humps anything that moves. He's great for a night out, sure, but I'm seriously starting to think he's a nympho.

"How soon's 'pretty soon'?" I asked as I examined my painted nails.

Luke lit a cigarette and took a long drag before answering, "Roughly ten minutes, I'd say."

"Shit, Luke, why didn't you tell me? I gotta make myself presentable."

I quickly left my seat at the kitchen table and headed for my room.

"Make yourself presentable? Like a lady," Luke scoffed.

"Shut your trap," I sighed and left the room.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I did it quite a lot, actually. A lot more than the other guys. They constantly teased me about it, too. How I looked in the mirror "like a lady" and I wore eyeliner "like a lady" and I painted my nails "like a lady" and I dyed my hair sometimes "like a lady". I wish they'd realise how image-conscious they were, though. They were always looking at their hair in the mirror, fixing themselves up. So sue me for being a little more glamorous. It pissed me off at first, but now I'm sort of used to the jeers. We all get jeered for our different things, really. I guess it's part of who we are or some shit. I lit a cigarette. Work in five minutes. Topper would be here any second.

Me and a few of the guys work at a bar just a few miles away. It's called 'The Dusty Bottle'. I honestly don't know how we ended up working there. It's pretty fucking classy if you ask me. All the high-class douchebags go there and sip their Shirley Temples and Appletinis and talk about some famous person's crotch they grabbed or something of the sort. They're not afraid to take the piss out of us right in front of our faces. They think we can't do nothin'. Can't beat the shit out of them like I've wanted to so many times. But I can't. Most of the high-class people are ladies, and Luke says I can't hurt ladies.

Still doesn't mean I don't want to.

I heard a car pull up outside our house, a non-stop car horn and loud music. That was Topper.

"Hey, B! Topper's here!" I heard Luke yell from the kitchen.

"I know, I know, I'm ready!" I yelled back, grabbing a few things and leaving my room.

I slammed the front door behind me and ran to Topper's car, opening the back seat and hopping in.

"Hey, short stuff! You look hot," Topper greeted, which wasn't an unusual greeting for him.

"Not too bad lookin' yourself," I replied with a smirk, and he ran a hand through his dark blond hair.

"I try, I try," he grinned, hitting the brakes and jumping the car into action.

"You lookin' forward to work?" Luke asked Topper, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Topper shrugged, "What I always say, if I-"

"'If I score, I'm happy'," Luke quoted with a laugh, and Topper and I laughed, too.

I would get through the night. Work wasn't too bad.

"You guys finally showed up. The place is fuckin' packed,"

That was Bandit. Bandit was another Bad Kid. He didn't work at the bar with us because he was only fifteen, but he hung around there a lot with us. He got the nickname Bandit because he likes to snatch things, like food or money, from me or the other guys without us noticing. He's a sneaky dick, but I love him. Me and Bandit are really close.

"You're complainin' when you don't even gotta work," Topper replied with a cheeky grin.

"Since when did you get so fuckin' smart-ass, Topper?" Bandit said, but there was laughter in his voice.

Topper playfully punched Bandit's arm, and Bandit smiled, "Oh, B!" I snapped to attention, "I meant to tell you. Kurtsie Fox is here again tonight. He's just finishing up."

"What, seriously?" I felt my eyes widen, I was so excited, "Darn, I should've arrived earlier,"

"I don't get why you like him so much, short stuff," Luke commented, "he's just another gay boy who's dick you wanna suck, right?"

"He's different, Luke," I sighed, "how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Oh, so many of your so-called boyfriends have been "different". Marcus was different, Jordy was different, Cliff and Kyle and Kevin were different. I'm fuckin' sick of the word at this point."

"I mean it this time. He's different."

Luke just rolled his eyes, "Whatever."

This Kurtsie Fox we were talking about was the bar singer. His real name's Kurt, but Kurtsie Fox was his stage name. And man, do I have the hots for Kurtsie Fox. He ticked every box for me. There was something about him. He wasn't afraid to express himself - he wore all these glitzy, razzle dazzle outfits, he said what he wanted, he did what he wanted. His voice was amazing, I'd never heard anything like it before. He was a real performer, he knew how to entertain. Kurtsie Fox was different, like I said. All them other boys Luke was rambling on about, they didn't mean a thing compared to Kurtsie Fox. They were all just a quick fuck and a five-minute relationship. I felt like I could have a real relationship with Kurtsie. A proper, boyfriend-and-boyfriend way he makes me feel, man. I can't describe it.

But there was a problem. Kurtsie was high-class. He hung around with all those douchebags who made fun of me. They all gave him shit for even talking to me, which I could tell he wanted to. I could tell he wanted to communicate with me and all his "friends" were like these big, strong chains holding him back. Maybe Kurtsie wanted me, too. But I would never know.

Because Kurtsie was perfect, and I was so fucked-up. They wouldn't let him touch me.

"Blaine! Hey, Blaine, are you okay?"

I came back to the real world, and there he was, clicking his fingers, trying to get my attention.

"Blaine? Hello?" Kurtsie laughed a little, "Unbelievable."

"Woah, sorry," I finally spoke up, "my thoughts were taking me away, I guess."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that. I wanted to ask for a drink before you started dreaming."

"Heh, sorry," I began to walk to the bar, "What will it be?"

"Sex on the Beach. I'm feeling adventurous," Kurtsie replied.

"Well, I'd love to, but there's no beach nearby," I cooed, and Kurtsie laughed.

"You're pretty flirty tonight, aren't you, B?" he said, and he reached up and took a lock of my hair in his fingers, "I like your hair tonight. The red streaks look good."

I smiled, "Why thank you. I like your everything tonight. I do every night."

Kurtsie smirked, "What brought out the playboy in you tonight?"

"Kurt!"

I looked behind Kurtsie and just about saw his midget friend, Rachel Berry. Rachel didn't like me very much at all. Kurtsie was really the only one who did. Well, I hoped he did.

"Hey, Rachel-"

"Were you talking to that scumbag? He would probably give you an STD by just looking at you."

"If that were the case, you would have one right now," I retorted, handing Kurstie his drink, "Pity you already have one from your boyfriend."

Rachel glared at me, she looked like she was ready to slap me. "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" she spat, "that Finn's dirty like the rest of you, just so you can feel a little more normal? Think again."

She grabbed Kurtsie's wrist and started dragging him through the bar, and Kurtsie didn't have time to protest.

They were gone. He was gone.

"Maybe if you watched your mouth more often, they wouldn't hate you so much,"

I turned around to see another one of my friends, another Bad Kid, "Shut your trap, Slick," I said bitterly.

Slick worked at the bar, too. The thing that was different about Duke was that he wanted to be sitting at the high-class table. He wanted to discuss how many credit cards he went through while he sipped his seven-billion dollar Cosmopolitan. He wanted to openly talk shit about someone at the next table. He wanted to be a high-class kid.

"You know they hate all of us, right? Doesn't matter how nasty you are," I added, taking a beer from the bar's fridge, cracking it open and taking a sip.

"I know they do. But you could change. We all could."

"Dammit, Slick, don't you realise you're the only one who wants to be one of them?"

"I don't want to be one of them, I want to be respected by them! Treated as equal! Hell, you know I wouldn't say nothin' to hurt you guys, you know I wouldn't, B! I just want to have a little more money, dress in nicer clothes-"

"You already dress nicer than us. Already think you're better than us, don't you?"

"Of course I don't, B, you're crazy! I wouldn't hang with you guys if I didn't like it! What's wrong with wanting something different, huh? What's wrong with not wanting to be stuck with everyone looking down on you and insulting you for the rest of your life?"

I felt bad when Slick said that. He must get really hurt, feel really trapped. One thing me and Slick had in common was that we both expressed our emotions more than the other guys. We both dreamed of our future. Who was I to tell him he couldn't have his?

I walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug, "M'sorry," I mumbled.

"That's okay, B. It's no big deal, anyway," Slick shrugged, letting go of me after a moment.

"You come talk to me about your dreams whenever you want, okay? I'll listen," I said with a wink.

"The only way you two could get any gayer was if his cock was up your butt, Slick," Topper laughed, "back to work, c'mon."

Work ended a few hours later and Topper dropped Luke and I back home. We got in pretty late, half one in the morning, but we always did.

Luke unlocked the front door and we walked quietly into the kitchen, only to find our Momma at the table, smoking.

All I need to tell you about my Momma is that I love her. I love her with all my heart.

Her face lit up when she saw the two of us, "Baby Blaine, Lukie! I haven't seen you all day, boys!" she chirped, grabbing both of our faces and planting kisses on our cheeks.

Luke and I both wiped our cheeks of red lipstick on instinct, smiling.

"Hey, Momma," Luke greeted with a smirk, folding his arms.

I practically knocked my Momma over with a hug, I always did. I took her cigarette from her mouth, took a drag and gave it back to her with a cheeky smile.

"Oh, behave yourself, Blaine!" Momma joked, wagging a finger at me.

"Well, we gotta head to bed now, right Blaine?" Luke gave me a nod, "we've got to be up early, visit Ash in the hospital."

"Oh, I forgot poor Ash is in the hospital! Send him all my best wishes tomorrow, okay?" Momma told us.

Ash is another Bad Kid. He's an asshole. We all get into trouble, but he gets into way too much trouble. Ash hs been in prison, he steals, he gets high and drunk, he nearly killed a guy one time. A theory that Luke and I have is that Ash has some terrible, scarring past. That he coops up all his feelings at lets them out by starting fights and getting drunk and shit like that. You've heard those kind of stories before, right? But, if Ash didn't get himself together soon enough, he was probably going to kill himself with all the damage he's done to himself. And that's scary. But we're all friends, and we gotta stand by each other, so Luke and I were going to see him in hospital tomorrow morning. He got real drunk and he got in a car crash two days ago. We really weren't surprised at this point, which sounds bad, but we still worried. We couldn't help it. All the gang were gonna be there to see him. All the Bad Kids.

"Sure thing, Momma! G'night, I love you," I said happily, kissing her cheek.

"Night, Momma," Luke gave her a wave and we both headed upstairs to our rooms, bidding each other good night.

And as I lay in bed that night, a lot of thoughts went through my head. I thought about Ash and Slick. I thought about Kurtsie, but I do that every night. Though I didn't jerk off this time. I thought about... life, I guess. Get ready for some "inspirational" type shit. I thought about what I was going to do with my life. Darn you, Slick, for getting me thinkin'. What if I was stuck in this town my whole life? What if I never got to go out in the world and achieve all my ambitions? I wonder if I'll just be a dreamer forever. If my dreams will ever come true. I have a lot of dreams, y'know. I always wanted to be a singer. I have a guitar and I've penned a few tunes. I don't know if they're any good or nothin', but I figure it's worth a try. I want to sing with Kurtsie. That's another dream. I want to be with Kurtsie, as impossible as that sounds. I would try and make it happen. Who knows how it could turn out? Even though no-one wants it but me. And maybe Kurtsie. I'll say it again, who knows?

I don't even know what I'm thinking anymore. I never used to think this much. Maybe it's because I'm growing up and it's time to give a fuck.

Just know that I have a mind. That I'm not all cigarettes, beer, and leather. That I'm not all hair dye, eyeliner and nail polish.

I have dreams.

And that night, I decided, my dreams were going to come true.