Kurt Hummel buttoned up the jacket of his new uniform. He figured he should blend in while he takes his stuff up to his new dorm room. His father trailed behind him, carrying the biggest of Kurt's suitcases; Kurt held the lighter two in his hands and stood in front of the door. This was home for him until the summer. He didn't know anyone, had a brand new roommate instead of his step-brother (and former crush) Finn, and the memories of his experience at his old school still pained him every time he closed his eyes.
Thankfully, the supervisors allowed Kurt to move in while everyone else was in class; they thought it would make th eprocess easier. Kurt wanted to get all of his things set up without his roommate getting in the way. the new student opened the door to his new life and stepped in, hoping for the best.
"Kurt, this is it," his father said. Kurt could hear the sadness in his voice. "You're gonna do great."
"Dad, I'm sorry that you can't go on your honeymoon because of me." Kurt turned to face his father, holding back tears already.
"No, don't be sorry. Carole and I are perfectly fine with it. We want you safe more than we want a little vacation." Kurt watched his dad look around the room, almost in disbelief. "I'll let you get settled in. Don't forget to call us," he reminded Kurt.
"Goodbye, Dad. Thank you so much," Kurt choked out, hugging him. He let go after a minute, smiling through his tears. Kurt's father smiled back, taking a final look at the room before he left.
Once the door closed, Kurt looked around the room for himself. The boy he now lived with was obviously comfortable: his schoolbooks were piled on Kurt's bed, and his own was unmade.
The rest of the room was quaint. A poster of some football team (Kurt assumed; normally he'd just ask Finn, but with a tiny pain in his heart he remembered that he couldn't) was up, crookedly, over the boy's bed.
Kurt's focus soon turned to unpacking; he put his earphones in, turned up his iPod and danced around while he organized his clothes in their respective drawers. That finished, Kurt moved to putting his various moisturizers in the bathroom. After that, he danced his way out to get the last of his things, but stopped in his tracks. His roommate had returned and was now staring at him. Kurt, turning different shades of red, pulled out his earphones and threw his iPod on the bed.
"Well hi, uh, I'm Blaine Anderson," the boy said, holding his hand out. "You're my new roommate, right?"
"Y-Yeah, I'm Kurt Hummel," Kurt returned, taking Blaine's hand and shaking it, trying to look calm and collected. His mind was racing; embarrassment came first, but as he watched Blaine smile at him, he noticed that this boy was gorgeous.
"Well, Kurt, welcome to Dalton Academy! Those were some," Blaine laughed slightly, "impressive moves you've got there."
Kurt turned red all over again. "Th-Thanks," he stammered. He looked away, embarrassed. The boy took the last things out of his suitcases: two picture frames. He put the landscape one next to his bed, and the portrait on his dresser. Blaine walked over to investigate.
"Who're they?" he asked, gesturing at the horizontal frame. Kurt looked over, seeing himself surrounded by a group of high schoolers.
"The New Directions," Kurt started, "my old glee club. That was taken after we lost regionals last year."
"You guys look so happy," Blaine said, confused. "We were upset for weeks after we lost."
"We realized that we had come so far together. Wait, you have a glee club?"
"Yeah, we're the Warblers. I've seen you dance," Blaine smiled, "but do you sing?"
Kurt's eyes widened. Sing? Already? "Uh, y-yeah. I sing."
"Do I get to hear, or are you saving that for your Warblers audition?" Blaine's smile grew.
"Will singing for you help my chances of getting in?" Kurt said warily. Blaine laughed.
"I suppose so," he replied. "It's not entirely up to me though, the committee chooses all of that."
"Committee?"
"Yeah, I can't really explain. Wes doesn't like when I try to." Blaine looked away, noticing that his books were still on Kurt's bed. He shuffled over, picking up the pile and setting it at the foot of his bed. "Sorry about that."
"Oh, it's, uh, no problem."
"I'll be right back, I need to get the hell out of this uniform," Blaine said, pulling clothes out of his dresser and disappearing into the bathroom.
"Oh my God," Kurt whispered to himself. He couldn't focus on any of his thoughts. Most of them were about Blaine. He stood completely still, trying to collect himself. It wasn't working.
"You can move around, you know. This whole room is yours too," Blaine pointed out, throwing his uniform by his books.
"Y-Yeah, sorry. I'm just trying to get used to everything," Kurt responded, looking at Blaine. Bad idea.
Blaine's pajama pants (which were slightly too big) were hanging off his hips in a way that framed them perfectly. It revealed just enough of Blaine's boxers that Kurt could see that they had penguins on them. Cute, cartoon penguins.
Oh God. Kurt, don't stare. Look at his face.
Kurt's eyes moved up to Blaine's face, not before taking a very good look at his torso. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt, but his arms were highlighted in it. Kurt didn't know what to do.
Just stay calm. Don't stare. Get your pajamas and go change. Now.
Without a word, Kurt picked out a pair of sweatpants and a v-neck, almost running to the bathroom. He slipped them on, folding his uniform nicely. He took his time, trying to clear his mind of these thoughts of Blaine. He just met the kid, knows nothing about him, and yet Kurt knew there was something about him that was attracting him...besides his looks. With a quick look at himself in the mirror, wide-eyed and blushing, Kurt stepped out of the bathroom and placed his uniform neatly on the dresser. He looked over his shoulder at Blaine, who was staring at him.
"So, uh," Kurt started. He trailed off, turning around to face Blaine. "Since I'm going to be living with you for the next six months, or however long it is until summer," Blaine patted the spot next to him on his bed, "tell me about yourself."
Kurt hesitated, but sat next to Blaine. The boy looked so excited to listen. All Kurt could notice at first were Blaine's eyes; how much they sparkled in the light, how brilliantly hazel they were. He shook his head slightly and opened his mouth to speak.
"Well, what do you want to know?"
"Why did you choose Dalton? Or, why did you transfer out of your old school? You looked so happy in that picture with your glee club."
Kurt sighed. "For a while, I was happy. Glee club isn't something that's considered anywhere near cool at McKinley, but we were fighting through it, together. Once I came out though, like officially, and it spread around," the boy paused. Blaine shifted his glance to get Kurt to look up. "This jock Karofsky started torturing me more than before. Before it was just because of glee, and I was okay with that."
Kurt looked away again. He couldn't believe he was telling this to someone he just met; it took him forever to tell it to his own father.
"So what happened?" Blaine asked, sounding incredibly interested. Kurt glanced at his eyes. He wasn't faking his interest; it was there, crystal clear.
"It started with just shoving me into lockers and calling me names," he winced, remembering how much it hurt to be shoved like that. "He started threatening me."
"Kurt, I'm so sorry," Blaine said, placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Is there anything else?"
"I-I-" Kurt stopped himself. Again, why was he telling all of this to someone he met an hour ago?
"You don't have to tell me," Blaine added, taking his hand away. Kurt took a deep breath. "We'll talk more in the morning, okay? I'll show you around campus."
"That'd be lovely," Kurt replied, smiling. He stood and walked over to his bed slowly. "Blaine, thank you. I don't know how I was even able to say that much. It took me months to get enough courage to tell my own father that Karofsky was torturing me."
"You're very welcome, Kurt. I'm glad I could help. I need to start on my French homework though, so," he trailed off, picking up his bag.
"My moisturizers are calling. You know, if you need help with your French, I was always top of my class at McKinley," Kurt offered, sliding into the bathroom. He felt giddy. If these feelings that Kurt was starting to figure out faded away, he knew that at least he'd have a good friendship with Blaine. He could sense it.
