Disclaimer: Yes, you caught me. I am, in fact, Ryan Murphy disguised as an eighteen year old university student obsessed with writing fanfiction about my favourite characters because writing what happens on the show simply doesn't satisfy me any longer. Besides, they don't let me do what I want anyway.
...
"How are you holding up?"
"Fine, I guess." Kurt absently nudged a lettuce leaf with his fork, eyes fixed listlessly on the repetitive motion.
Blaine raised an eyebrow, "say it one more time and I'm sure the salad will believe you." He smiled slightly, "me? I'm a little harder to convince."
"Really, I'm okay." Kurt looked up, fixing a painfully insincere smile on his ashen face, "Just tired, and a little shell shocked," he admitted, a raw quality invading his tightly controlled voice.
"Mmmhmm," Blaine remained unconvinced.
Kurt sighed and dropped the farce, "you have no idea how seriously I'm contemplating begging my dad to let me transfer. I just don't know if I can handle this..." he trailed off, not entirely sure what 'this' even was.
"I know you can," Blaine grimaced at the hallmark card quality of his response but it was, nonetheless, true. Kurt was one of the bravest kids he'd met – certainly braver than he'd ever been.
Kurt snorted, "At this point I don't know if I want to. Honestly," he felt tears welling in his eyes and ducked his head to covertly wipe them away, "why should I go through this if I don't have to?"
"You shouldn't have to," Blaine agreed, "but sometimes running away isn't the right option. I told you that's what I did," he paused, "and maybe it was the best thing for me, but maybe it wasn't." He caught Kurt's gaze, "Kurt, I wasn't strong enough to stand up to them and I regret that. I regret that I let them win, that I let them think it was okay to hurt me because I was gay – because I was different. But it's not okay, it is never okay." He smiled ruefully, "listen to me preach," and reached over to grab Kurt's hand, "I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you to stay because if transferring is what you really want to do then I'm behind it one-hundred percent. But I don't think it is." He surveyed the other carefully, but Kurt had clamped down on his emotions and was sporting one hell of a poker face, "I haven't known you for very long but you have never struck me as the type to give up, not when something matters as much as this does."
"I just don't know if it's worth it," Kurt whispered.
"I can't answer that for you," Blaine gripped his hand a little tighter, "but think of all you'd be giving up if you left."
"Slushies, dumpster dives, daily make-out sessions with the lockers," Kurt rolled his eyes, feigning nonchalance "how will I ever survive."
"And friends?" Blaine's look told him he just didn't buy it, "and your glee club? You're telling me you won't miss it, not even a little?"
"It's not like I'm even appreciated there," Kurt scoffed, "they wouldn't even notice if I left." His thoughts drifted to the boy's complete dismissal of his ideas, and puck's suggestion that he 'make himself useful' scoping out the competition, "and as for friends..." he resumed poking at his salad, "let's just say I haven't been then nicest person to be around lately." He fought back tears; he wasn't going to cry – not this time.
"I'm sure they'll forgive you," Blaine looked troubled, "what you're going through...it's enough to screw with anyone's head."
"It's no excuse," Kurt muttered self-deprecatingly then sighed, "I don't really want to talk about this anymore."
"Alright," Blaine frowned slightly, "but think carefully about it, okay? Don't make a rash decision you might regret later."
Kurt offered him a tiny smile as the other boy released his hand and lent back into his chair, "Okay."
Blaine was loath to leave it there, but if Kurt didn't want to talk about it what else could he do?
Kurt's I-phone beeped loudly with a message from Mercedes.
Where are you? Glee started 5 minutes ago!
"Oh crap," he muttered and dropped the fork, pushing the salad away from him, before glancing apologetically at the mildly curious boy across from him, "I'm late for Glee."
"Oh?" Blaine lent forward, "mind if I tag along?" he grinned, "after all, you spied on my club..."
Standing up, Kurt raised an eyebrow, "if I stuck out like a sore thumb," he surveyed Blaine's uniform, "then you're a flannel T-shirt trying to pass for an Armani suit."
"I'm not sure..." Blaine laughed, "But I think that was an insult?"
"Take it how you want," Kurt grinned slightly, "but suffice to say that in this instance, hiding in plain sight will not work."
"And here I was thinking I had the school fooled," he fell in step beside Kurt, lengthening his strides to match the others.
"Wouldn't surprise me," Kurt rolled his eyes and tilted his chin in his typical haughty composure, "considering eighty percent of the Neanderthals here lack the mental acuity to properly recognise a fashion statement when they see one."
"Ah," Blaine nodded knowingly, "and therein lies the root of their jealousy."
Kurt glanced at him, "what?"
"Well obviously, "Blaine shrugged in an exaggerated fashion, "they're envious of your natural talent at looking fabulous while they roam around dressed like cavemen lumbering around the roasting pit."
Kurt blinked and then shook himself, "I don't think I should hang out with you," he said jokingly, "you're feeding my ego to the point where my daily tormentors may, in fact, be unable to toss me into the dumpster" he paused, "...on second thought, keep it up."
Anger flashed in Blaine's eyes but he said nothing, choosing instead to change the topic. "So what classes did you miss during our lunch getaway?"
"Double English," Kurt frowned, "it's not a big deal, but I'll have to think of some excuse as to why I missed it..."
"Sorry," Blaine grinned ruefully, "should've kept an eye on the time."
"No," Kurt smiled tentatively, "I needed that," he sighed, "I have a big decision to make."
"Don't rush it," was all Blaine said.
"I know," Kurt paused at the door to the choir room, "so what's your story for being here?"
"You checked me out," Blaine winked, "I'm just returning the favour."
Kurt's mouth went dry and his heart skipped a couple of beats, "...right," he opened the door and flounced in, Blaine at his heels.
"Kurt," Mr. Shue raised an eyebrow, "so nice of you to join us."
"Hummel," Puck said disbelievingly as he eyed Blaine, "you're like the worst spy ever."
"Yeah you're not supposed to bring the competition home with you," Artie pointed out helpfully.
"Wait a minute," Shue levelled a stern look at Kurt, "you spied on them?"
"So what?" Kurt defended, "it's nothing we haven't done before."
"Guys! I keep telling you not to do this!" Shue threw his hands up in desperation.
"Relax ," Kurt rolled his eyes, "that wasn't even the reason I went." He motioned for Blaine to follow him to a seat, "this is Blaine by the way. Since I did, in fact, end up 'spying' on them, he thought it only fair he returned the favour."
Shue sighed, "Well welcome then," he said half-heartedly, "sorry for my kids' deplorable lack of common decency," he levelled a glare at the seemingly unconcerned Kurt who was inspecting his nails. The death grip he had on his satchel was the only indication he was in any way bothered by the proceedings.
Blaine shot him a reassuring look and shrugged, "we don't mind. We like tough competition," he grinned wolfishly, "hope you're all up for a challenge."
"Oh please," Santana rolled her eyes, "a bunch of gay guys singing Disney hits? How scary!"
Kurt leaned forward, about to protest, but Blaine stilled him with a hand on his arm, "I got this."
Blaine raised an eyebrow at the smirking Latino, "I see our reputation precedes us," he chuckled, "but that's just the junior choir, the Warblers are much more" he winked suggestively, "...versatile."
He took in the slightly stunned faces, "but don't take my word for it, you should see for yourselves," he shrugged, "perhaps a...soirée of sorts – check each other out."
"That's a great idea, Blaine," Shue clapped his hands together, "we'll have a scrimmage, is it easy for you guys to get out here?"
"It's not a problem," Blaine relaxed back into his seat, "how's Thursday 3.00?"
"We have a rehearsal then," Shue confirmed, "you might need to ask your coach first, though."
"Will do." Blaine glanced over at Kurt to see a small smile adorning his face and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "isn't that what you thought when you saw us?"
"What?" Kurt asked, slightly startled by the other's proximity in public, no less.
"That we were a gay school?" Blaine's tone was laced with mirth.
"Oh yeah," Kurt coloured slightly.
"So as I was saying," Shue broke into their conversation, "this week's theme is a little different than what we've done before. This week is about challenging yourselves." He held up a hand at the groans of protest, "no seriously guys," he fixed them with a stern look, "you're all too complacent, thinking the competition's going to just lay down and let us walk all over them. Kurt," he said suddenly, "what did you think of the Warblers?"
Kurt blinked, "oh they were..." he blushed slightly, "they were really good." He could almost feel Blaine's grin.
"Up to our standard, then?" Shue asked with a knowing look.
"Mmm definitely," Kurt nodded, "...if not better." He added cheekily.
"So you see guys," Shue interrupted the yells of protest, "we need to challenge ourselves to continue to improve so," he grinned wickedly, "you're all going to pick a song that's completely opposite to what you'd normally sing.
"I am not singing some pansy-ass..." Puck began but slouched back in silence when Shue shot him a glare.
"Now I don't necessarily mean gender wise," Shue forestalled the latest burst of indignant conversation, "but something that's so ridiculously different from the norm you have to actually work to sing it well."
"," Rachel began amidst a chorus of groans, "can I just say that I accept this challenge most emphatically and that I believe it will give me a long overdue chance to show just how vocally versatile I truly am."
"Oh please," Mercedes grumbled, "you take one step outside yo' little white-girl show tune box and yo' versatility will turn back into a pumpkin."
"Guys," Shue cut over them, "you are all capable of breaking out of your boxes. I want to see it happen."
"How opposite are we talking here?" Satana flicked her hair over her shoulder, "like should I be singing Disney, or something?" She scoffed lightly.
"Think Kurt in his Mellencamp phase," Shue chuckled.
"Mellencamp?" Blaine fought to keep the laughter out of his voice.
Kurt groaned slightly, "not my finest moment," he lamented.
"It would have been a great performance," Shue reassured him, "if we weren't so completely flummoxed by your outfit."
"And if the theme hadn't been a song that represented your voice," Rachel put in helpfully.
"I liked it," Brittany smiled around the room, "I love everything my sweet baby gay does."
A chorus of guffaws exploded after a short period of stunned silence.
"Brittany!" Kurt buried his head in his hands, "I told you not to call me that in public," he muttered, absolutely mortified. He could feel Blaine shuddering beside him, hand clasped over his mouth in a futile effort to contain his laughter.
"Aww..." Puck crooned, "is wittle baby Kurt embarrassed?"
Kurt sat up straight and tilted his chin in his typical 'I'm better than you, and you know it' pose and glared, "it seems to me that the only children in this room are the lot of you." He said frostily.
"Can't take a joke, Hummel?" Puck jeered, "or are you just embarrassed in front of your little boyfriend."
"I know the concept of a friend is a little too advanced for your brain cell," Kurt sneered, "but we're not all self-absorbed manwhores willing to sleep with anything possessing a pulse." He'd had just enough of pretty much everyone teasing him about pretty much everything and damn it if this wasn't the last straw.
Blaine placed a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down but he shook him off angrily. Actions like that would only fuel the rumours.
"Well I'd never sleep with you," Puck shot back, "so where does that put you? How does it feel to be lower than a sheep on the sexual food chain?"
"Guys enough," Shue began but was promptly drowned out by Kurt's unbelieving scoff.
"I'm not even going to respond to that," he shook his head, lips curled in a derisive sneer, "since I'm pretty sure you just insulted yourself, but why don't you just go back to Juvie, Puck? Where you don't have to be afraid to want to take it up the-"
"Kurt!" Shue grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of his seat, "that's just about enough-" he was again drowned as Puck's loud voice sailed through the room.
"You wanna repeat that, fag?" Puck had flushed red with fury at Kurt's accusation and was currently fighting the impulsive urge to bury his fist in the other's frosted veneer.
"Hey don't call him that!" Finn yelled, breaking free of Rachel's grip on his arm and making towards Puck.
"I did not just hear you call my boy that word," Mercedes began at the same time, accent thickening with anger.
"Puck!" Mr Shue let go of Kurt as the boy pulled out of his hold, "that language is unaccepta-"
"Oh now you care?" Kurt turned on the hapless teacher, derision lacing his tone, "give the farce up ," he laughed hollowly, "you think we haven't opened our eyes to the fact that you don't? Why don't you just go hop on back into your little happy bubble," he waved his fingers in the air, "and ignore it like you do every time you see something that doesn't fit with your overly simplistic world view?"
"Kurt," Blaine placed a hand on his shoulder, "I think you should calm down."
"Oh so now I shouldn't stand up for myself?" He yelled at Blaine, pushing the other's hand off his shoulder, "I am sick to death of this school - of everyone- and their frickin' double standards."
"Kurt," Shue banged his fist on the piano, "I'll see you in the principal's office first thing tomorrow."
"No," Kurt tilted his chin again, "no, you won't."
A sudden, stunned, silence pervaded the room.
"I don't want to get you suspended," Shue looked helplessly around the room for inspiration, "but this behaviour is unacceptable for anyone."
"You know what's unacceptable, sir?" Kurt asked mockingly, "the way everyone turns a blind eye to what happens in this veritable hell-hole. And it won't ever change," he paused briefly to angrily wipe the tears from his eyes, "because nobody cares."
"Kurt, we care" Finn tried.
"Oh don't even get me started on your closeted homophobia," Kurt sneered, blinking away the fresh tears glistening in his eyes, "and you don't care. None of you do." He held up a hand to block their protests, "you all expect me to just take it, like it's my god-given responsibility in life to be the proverbial punching bag for every homophobic closet case looking to vent their sexual frustrations." He ignored the slightly confused looks at the last part – he supposed only Blaine would understand that – "you never ask about it, you never even mention it," he scoffed, "like you believe it'll just go away if you pretend it doesn't exist? Well it does. And it hasn't gone away; in fact it's gotten worse." He took some satisfaction at the guilt on their faces, "now I don't just get trash on my face, I get bruises."
"Kurt, we didn't know-"Mercedes looked heartbroken. But that was just it, wasn't it?
"No you didn't," he agreed, "but whose fault is that? It's not like they go out of their way to hide what they're doing," he pointed out, "it's not like they corner me in dark alleys, they do it in the hallway, in full of view of everyone." Breathing was becoming more difficult, he needed to wrap this up and get out of there so he could breakdown somewhere. "And not once has anyone noticed. Not one single time has anyone even offered me a hand up, a word of comfort, a shoulder to cry on..." he shook his head angrily, "and that's not even the worst of it. The physical abuse I can handle, it's momentary, and it means nothing, but the insults? The slurs? The 'go to hell, fag' yelled down the corridor," he was losing control of his tear ducts now but he wasn't finished, not even close.
"The notes slipped in my locker," his voice dropped to a painful, raw, whisper – he hadn't even told Blaine about the notes – "telling me to go hang myself and make the world a better place?" He took a deep, shuddering, breath, "and every day I walk around with that hanging over my head. Every day I struggle to tell myself it isn't true that not everyone feels that way. But then, you know what? Maybe everyone does." His heart clenched, "and maybe it hasn't seemed so in the past," he thought of his desperate crush on Finn, "but I know when I'm not wanted." And then he was out the door and running before anyone could even think to stop him.
Screw them all.
He fled down the corridor; satchel clutched tightly in his hands, and tried to hold back the tears. His throat was burning as he repressed the sobs, and his vision was beginning to blur. He barged through the doors – for once not caring if it messed up his outfit – and bumped straight into a large fleshy object. His heart plummeted.
You never miss a chance to screw with me, huh?
He mentally cursed the potential existence of a clearly sadistic God.
"Well if it isn't the resident fairy," a vice-like grip settled around his arms as tried to back away.
"Let me go," Kurt whispered wearily, he'd just about drained his emotions in the last ten minutes.
"What no mouthing off today?" Azimio chuckled harshly, "is the little fag feeling down?"
"Don't call me that" Kurt yelled, ignoring the tight squeeze around his arms and the fact that he was hopelessly outnumbered – and there were only two of them.
"Aww did I hurt your feelings?" Azimio scoffed.
Kurt ignored him, "no longer afraid of catching the gay?" He tilted his chin and shot Karofsky an arrogant look, readying himself for the inevitable punch-up that was sure to follow, "or have you finally realised you can't catch what you already have?" Karofsky's grip tightened until Kurt felt like the blood circulation to his arms had been cut off.
"Shut up, fag," he growled, digging his blunt nails into Kurt's skin, "you don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh my mistake," Kurt sneered, "guess I must have imagined the other day." He broke off thoughtfully, "although I could've sworn you-" he was cut off as Karofsky's hands migrated from his arms to his throat.
"You shut up!" The larger boy yelled as Kurt flailed slightly, completely unable to free himself. He was desperately trying to choke in air but his airway was refusing to cooperate. He could feel his vision blurring as he kicked out helplessly.
Where was everyone? Had no one even bothered to follow him? Where was Blaine?
"Karofsky, I think that's enough man," he could faintly hear Azimio's voice over the roaring in his ears.
"Dude you're going to kill him," now Azimio sounded faintly horrified Guess he hadn't been the one to leave that note in his locker.
Suddenly he was falling to the ground and his throat was aching, but there was air. He choked in a few gasps, wincing and coughing as it brushed down his throat. For a moment he just lay there, gulping and gasping in air like it was going out of fashion. He could feel the harsh gravel as he shifted slightly to roll onto his back, uncaring when the fabric of his jacket snagged slightly.
So he'd been right all along. No one cared. No one had bothered to follow him. If they had, would they even have stopped it?
He doubted it.
Groaning slightly he drew himself up into a sitting position, curling his knees up against his chest and burying his head in them. The tears came then, hot and fast, tainting his pale skin red and blotchy, smearing the makeup that hid the ever present dark circles that lurked underneath his eyes. They dripped unceremoniously onto his pants creating damp patches that mingled with the blood oozing from grazes he'd obtained when he'd hit the ground. His head was aching and pounding and it didn't matter anymore that he was an absolute mess because he could barely think straight.
It was all too much.
He needed to get out of there. Out of school. Out of Lima. Just out, away. Anywhere.
His phone beeped and he reluctantly retrieved it from the pocked of his satchel, pressing the button and watching as the message popped up on the screen.
From: Blaine.
You ok?
Oh so now he cared? He scowled and stabbed the buttons on the phone as he responded.
Don't pretend to care. I expected better from you, at least.
He shoved the phone into his bag; he wasn't really interested in initiating what would probably turn into a text fight. But when the phone beeped again his curiosity got the better of him and, with a huff, he grabbed it and read the message.
You know I care. Why else would I be here? Tell me where you are so I can find you.
"Liar," Kurt muttered, he realised he was probably acting childishly but he was beyond caring at this point. He was angry and damnit if he wasn't going to take it out on everyone.
To spy on us, obviously. And no.
He realised he'd probably better consider getting up off the ground, lest the dirt become so deeply ingrained he couldn't wash it off later. He looked at the shreds of fabric adorning his knees – not that these pants were saveable anyway.
You don't really believe that. Come on, we should talk.
"Don't want to," he scowled but relented, if anything he could vent at Blaine.
Fine. Outside. On the ground.
He lay back down figuring he probably couldn't wreck his clothing – or hair – any more than it already had been, and god he was tired. Tired of everything. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Life wasn't supposed to be this hard, was it?
"Kurt?" He heard Blaine's voice somewhere behind him and that fluttery feeling he got every time the boy was near invaded his chest, "are you okay?" He felt him kneel down beside him.
"Nothing I can't handle," Kurt still refused to open his eyes, he was sort of enjoying the darkness.
"What happened?" He felt Blaine's hand ghost across his throat and realised it was probably red from when Karofsky had pretty much tried to kill him.
But Blaine didn't need to know that. It wasn't like he actually cared anyway.
He shrugged, "nothing."
"Kurt don't be like this," Blaine sighed, "I know you're upset but this isn't helping anyone."
Kurt just didn't answer, he kept his eyes closed and desperately tried to ignore his reaction to the proximity of the other. Sometimes, having raging teenage hormones was just plain annoying. He couldn't really stay mad at Blaine on account of the fact that he body was feeling a few vastly different emotions for him.
"Please don't shut me out," Blaine was pleading but he somehow managed to stay calm, collected, "You need to talk to someone and I know for a fact you aren't talking to anyone else."
"They wouldn't want to listen," he muttered.
"You never gave them the chance," Blaine countered.
Kurt's eyes flew open and he sat up abruptly, "you're pinning this on me?" He felt...betrayed. Was no one on his side? This was eerily reminiscent of the whole Finn, Sam, Dad scenario. Some people were just supposed to take his side no matter what, he'd thought Blaine was one of those people in this situation at least – he didn't know anyone else.
"No," Blaine said calmly, seemingly right at home kneeling on the gravel, "I'm just pointing out the fact that you've apparently been pushing people away."
"Maybe so," Kurt admitted then scowled, "but it's not like anyone really reached out. They all just let it go."
"The hardest people to help are those who don't want it." Blaine sighed, "Kurt, honestly I think you're all in the wrong here." He halted Kurt's protests with a finger, "just listen. Yes, they should have noticed you pulling away from them. Heck, they probably did. But I doubt any of them really knew what was causing it or how to fix it. I'm not done," he motioned for Kurt to wait, "you are not the easiest person to get close to. You keep everything locked up so tightly and you walk around with a chip on your shoulder the size of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. I realise that's a defence but Kurt, you can't push people away and still expect them to reach out. You can only poke so many holes into a relationship before it starts to sink."
"It was Karofsky," Kurt whispered finally, "I ran into him and he grabbed me and Azimio was insulting me and," he took a shuddering breath, "I just snapped. I was just so sick of it all I," he shook his head in partial disbelief, "I tried to out him –Karofsky – in front of Azimio and he just, he got so mad he was strangling me."
Blaine moved closer so they were bumping shoulders and sighed, "You have the worst timing of anyone I've ever met."
Kurt snorted but the sound was devoid of any real humour; a dry, empty, husk of sound.
"I think we need to talk about those notes you mentioned," there was a slight undertone of alarm in Blaine's normally even voice.
"Oh..." Kurt whispered, "They're nothing."
"They're not nothing," Blaine gripped his shoulder, "can you show me one?"
Kurt sighed, "it's not a big deal," he fished one out of his bag and handed it over. He saw Blaine's face tighten in fury as he read it.
Fag. Jump off a bridge already would you? Do your part to make the world a better place.
"How many?" Blaine asked quietly, his voice trembling with controlled rage.
Kurt looked away, "a few a week," he sighed, 'they're all the same...not very creative. It's fine, Blaine."
"This is not fine," Blaine yelled suddenly, "Kurt, this is not okay."
Kurt stared for a second, taken aback at the raw fury he saw burning in the other's dark eyes. This was a side of Blaine he hadn't seen. The side that had obviously went through similar hell. The part of him that hadn't yet fully overcome the unadulterated hate he'd been subjected to.
"This is-" he broke off and breathed deeply before turning to Kurt and gripping him by the shoulders. His grip was firm but gentle in deep contrast to the agonised expression on his face.
"Kurt, there will always be people who say those things to you but you have to believe me," Blaine urged him, a tone of desperation in his voice, "it's not because they hate you, it's because they're frightened of what you are. Homosexuality scares them because it's different, and some people just don't know how to handle the unknown. You understand that, right?"
"You're wrong," Kurt thought about all the insults, the looks, the hatred he could feel radiating from some of them, "it's me they hate."
"Oh god no," Blaine looked stricken, Kurt had never seen him so uncontrolled so vulnerable, "Kurt it isn't you, they don't even know you."
"And they don't care to," Kurt began but Blaine interrupted him almost...angrily.
"It isn't you," he repeated firmly, "if you were just another straight guy they wouldn't look twice at you."
"Ouch?" Kurt tried, and failed, to make light of the situation.
"Because it's not you that threatens them, it's their own fears."
"Why is this so important to you" Kurt asked curiously, watching as Blaine paled slightly and released him to rest his clenched fists on his knees.
"I knew someone," he said slowly, pain lacing his voice, "before I came to Dalton. He used to get those kinds of notes all the time," he broke off and gripped his knees tightly, the muscles in his jaw tightening, "his family found him, one night, lying in the bathtub," his voice hitched slightly, "he'd slit his wrists...bled to death. The notes..." he breathed deeply, "they found them in the room – he'd been reading them – and on the desk," a single tear gathered in the corner of his eye, "he'd written 'Now the world's a better place'."
"He was your friend?" Kurt gingerly took Blaine's hand and held it between his own.
"More than that," Blaine admitted, grasping Kurt's hand gratefully.
"And you got those letters too?" He guessed, feeling terrible for trying to dismiss the letters. Truth was, they had affected him. Deeply.
"I had even considered..." he trailed off, and Kurt was left with no illusions as to what he meant, "but after I saw what it did to his family – what it did to me – and how those bastards would joke about it," he clenched his jaw, "how they paraded around saying it was for the best, that it was what God wanted," he turned to look at Kurt, "I just couldn't...you can't ever do that Kurt, don't ever let them make you doubt your right to live." He fixed Kurt with an intense look that sent shivers down his spine.
What could he say? That they already had? His silence, it seemed, was telling enough.
"Kurt, you have just as much right to be here as any of those self-righteous bastards," Blaine said softly, "more even, since you're a better human being than they'll ever be."
"Thanks," Kurt leaned against Blaine's shoulder, feeling the warmth that came from body-to-body contact, "you too, you know."
He felt Blaine's sigh of relief, "that's good and listen, Kurt."
"Yeah?" He was only half-focused now, his stomach doing little flips as it registered that he was, in fact, leaning on Blaine. And that maybe, just maybe, he had a little crush.
"If you ever feel differently – even a little bit – you call me. Right away." He nudged him when Kurt didn't respond, "okay?"
"Hmm?" Kurt dragged his mind out of 'teenage dream' land and met Blaine's amused eyes.
"You're not even listening are you?" Blaine accused playfully, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope," Kurt smiled as he felt the tension ebb away and then his thoughts turned to what he was going to do now. What was he going to do now? He didn't really want to stay at McKinley. At all. But then where would he go? Dalton was expensive. It was really the only other option he had, though.
"Do they have scholarships at your school?" Kurt inquired casually, knowing Blaine was bound to pick up on what he was actually trying to say.
"I think so," Blaine's eyes softened, "you want to transfer?"
"I don't know," Kurt said honestly, "but I know that I don't want to stay here."
Blaine wished he was strong enough to tell Kurt to stay, to face up to the bullies, but he wasn't even sure it was the best idea anymore. Besides, he couldn't bear to see him suffer any longer. Kurt deserved the kind of happiness and security that Dalton could provide.
"I'll look into it," he said instead and hugged the other around the shoulders.
