a/n: To some of you, this probably seems a little familiar. I posted it something like a year ago and then randomly updated about a month ago, but I've decided to kind of revamp it a little. This first chapter is pretty close to the original, but the next chapter takes a pretty different direction at the end, and the rest of the story is kind of going in a different direction that what I initially planned. So, that's why it needed a repost/revamp. So, let's try this again, shall we?

As always, I'd love to hear what ya'll think.

Cages or wings,
Which do you prefer?
Ask the birds
Fear or love, baby
Don't say the answer
Actions speak louder than words

Louder Than Words

"So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them." ― Sylvia Plath

Chapter One

Like so many things, this mess started out simply enough.

It started because Jesse St. James was he lead of Vocal Adrenaline and Melanie Foster was his coach. Their relationship was like any between a director and their star pupil: professional, but trusting – very trusting – and it was that trust that caused Jesse to be with her that evening, watching the rest of the ensemble trickle out and watching her sit casually at the edge of the stage, waiting. It wasn't rare that Jesse stayed just a few moments after evening rehearsal to discuss the routine and how to sharpen it further – who was falling behind and needed help, who was excelling and needed to be featured, and what could have been done to challenge the team even more – but that night, she had a particular gleam in her eye, the sort that she only got when she had a new plan in mind. Melanie was just a tiny bit insane, but the best directors were, and Vocal Adrenaline wasn't the most renowned choir in the state of Ohio because they had a mentor that played it safe. So, Jesse approached her with nothing more than a muted curiosity; after all, the last time she got that look in her eye, they nearly ended up in costumes that were to be set on fire (school regulations shot that one down pretty quickly, that's for sure).

"You wanted to see me, Ms. Foster?"

She nodded, turning and rising from her perch. "I have a favor to ask of you," she said, folding her arms in front of her, "one that deviates from your responsibilities to Vocal Adrenaline."

Jesse took her in – noticed her wildly curly hair and determined stature, how she seemed so much more intense than usual; something was off. There was something about her that constantly screamed "up to something," but this was different. Melanie didn't look excited or madly creative, as she tended to when she had a number to suggest (as, when she did, it was Jesse's job to learn the music on his own first, so he could lead properly) – but, rather, she looked… on edge.

He quirked a brow, intrigued. "I'm listening."

"Do you have any big regrets?" she asked, suddenly becoming earnest. "I mean, is there a moment in your life that, if you could, you'd like to do differently?"

Jesse's first thought? Of course not; he wasn't the kind of person who lived with regrets, because that was stupid, and also for people who wanted to be stuck in the past. Plus, regrets were born from mistakes, and it was a little known fact that Jesse St. James did everything in his power to avoid making those. Hell, even when he did mess up, he was loathe to admit it. Jesse had his pride to consider and – besides – that regret and nostalgia crap was a waste of time, as far as he was concerned. Several years from now, anything that happened in this town would mean absolutely nothing to him; he had better things coming and better places to be. Jonathan Larson told him to forget regret, and so he did. Completely. Life was not going to pass him by, just because he was trapped in the past.

However, Ms. Foster was looking at him so expectantly and she was clearly going somewhere with the whole thing, so he just said, "Of course," instead of spewing all of that out in the open. He was an actor, right?

"There's this mess that I need to fix," she said. "I can't take anything back, but maybe I can at least make amends… and I need a little help."

And the thing about show choir (or, at least, a good show choir)? It became a sort of home to anyone who took part in it. Members spent more time at rehearsal and at each other's houses than they did their own beds, and – despite what the drama-of-the-week happened to be – loyalty was at the very heart of Vocal Adrenaline. Jesse wasn't just a part of a team, but part of a family – and that included Ms. Foster, though from a slightly more professional distance. So, this favor that made her so tense? Regardless of what it was? It was a no brainer. If Jesse was anything (other than talented), it was loyal. So, without even considering any other option, he said:

"What can I do?"

It was how he ended up at a music store in Westerville, Ohio – quite the trip from his home in Akron. The little shop was one of the few places around that actually carried some decent a cappella arrangements and, therefore, one of the few places that guaranteed an eventual run-in with Blaine Anderson, the newly appointed lead of the Dalton Academy Warblers. And okay, maybe he had to do his research, and maybe he had to pose as an employee and call the kid to inform him of an (albeit false) shipment of Katy Perry arrangements (he'd heard enough of the group to know what sort of stuff they performed)… but, hey, who needed technicalities? They were in the same place at the same time, and that was all that mattered.

Who needed clandestine when you knew how to warp the system?

So, when Blaine did come strolling in, Jesse was sure to be accidentally leaning against the correct shelf, flipping through a heavy collection of Sondheim's greatest works. He waited until he saw Blaine scanning the titles and then:

"Blaine Anderson. Lead singer of the Warblers. Fancy meeting you here."

The boy in question raised his eyebrows with a smile. "Jesse St. James," he countered, "Lead singer of Vocal Adrenaline and," he pulled something off the shelf, "pretty far from home." He eyed Jesse, taking him by surprise, and then added, "Fancy meeting you here."

Jesse laughed, placing his own song book on the shelf and taking Blaine's right from his hands. "I saw you perform at sectionals," he said, ignoring Blaine's baffled expression and glancing over the pages of Teenage Dream with a look of distaste. "You guys weren't bad, but it's nothing that couldn't be improved upon with a more profound song selection."

"You don't say…" Blaine retorted, raising his eyebrows. Jesse could practically see the gears turning, could see him trying to figure him out. It was amusing, to say the least.

"Oh, but I do, and I highly suggest you back away from the top forty before anyone gets hurt."

"Is that some sort of threat?"

"Of course not," Jesse replied with a laugh. "Just a friendly suggestion."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"It would be nice to have some worthy competition at regionals," Jesse replied with a shrug, casually placing the book of pop music back on the shelves. "It would also be a shame to see a voice like yours wasted on shallow chart toppers." With a quirk of his brow, Jesse started walking away, smoothly pulling Sondheim back from its temporary place on the shelves.

Just as expected, Blaine followed, and Jesse's lips tugged into a smirk when he heard the other boy trotting up behind him.

"What are you doing all the way out here, anyway?" Blaine asked, falling into step beside Jesse and folding his arms over his chest as they went.

"I was in the neighborhood."

"How is Wester—"

Jesse interrupted. "What do you say we take one of these for a spin?" He strolled over to a nearby piano and took a seat on the bench, not bothering to wait for an answer. "Let's see how well you hold up against the competition without your backup vocals."

"You're on," Blaine said, smiling coyly as he trotted to the edge of the piano, leaning over on his elbows. He watched Jesse flip through the score in his hand… and as Jesse's fingers finally began to move across the keys and music began to fill the room, they shared a glance before Jesse began:

"Isn't it warm? Isn't it cozy?" He started singing one of the most playful songs he could find in a Sondheim book, and he smiled a little as Blaine raised his eyebrows in bemusement. Of course, Jesse knew exactly what sort of person he'd been told to befriend. He remembered the way Blaine performed; how could he forget the goofball that Blaine had made himself out to be? So, it wasn't hard to decide exactly what sort of song would catch Blaine's attention. It wasn't hard to figure out that getting him to smile along would be the easiest way in. And okay, some would call it manipulative, but Jesse would much prefer musically astute, thanks. He viewed music as language… and he just so happened to be incredibly fluent in it. That was all.

He continued to sing, "side by side," then looking pointedly at the space beside him on the piano bench, "by side."

Blaine of course obliged, smiling already as he took his place, and Jesse was sure to slide in real close as he went on with, "ports in a storm, comfy and cozy…"

Blaine cut in, "Side by side, by side."

Jesse sang, "Everything shines, how sweet!"

"Side by side…"

"By side."

Blaine belted, "Parallel lines, who meet," and Jesse noticed the way he just came alive, even bouncing a little as he sang, "Everyone winks…"(and he did)

Jesse cut in, "Nobody's nosy," though he did so disguising a laugh…

"Side by side, by side…"

"You bring the drinks, and I'll bring the posy,"

"Side by side…"

"By side."

Blaine actually dared to lean in a little closer. "One is lonely and two is boring," his lower lip jutting out into a hilarious pout. Jesse barely made it through, "think of what you can keep ignoring" without laughing at him. Together they harmonized, "side by side, by side."

It was strange, arranging as they went, turning an ensemble into a duet, but the fact that Blaine was keeping up was rather impressive – Jesse had to admit. It was a matter of singing around the dialogue and cutting each other off, but it was somehow working. And maybe Blaine's smile was a little infectious, because Jesse was sort of… having fun with it. His fingers practically bounced across the keys, rather than their usual elegant dance, and he was literally singing through both of their laughter. Really, he couldn't remember the last time he sang like this – if he ever had before.

"Year after year," Blaine jumped, "Older and older…"

"Sharing a tear," he pressed his side against Blaine's, "lending a shoulder."

They cycled like that for the next few sections, Blaine bouncing along and Jesse singing through a grin. And as they slowly grew an audience, they both seemed to become even more alive. Blaine even got up at a point, singing at Jesse from his previous place across the piano, bouncing on his toes and leaning forward on his elbows. Of course, Jesse ended up cutting himself off with a laugh when Blaine literally trotted back to his place on the bench for the end, plopping down sideways. His back lounged against Jesse's shoulder as they returned to, "Sharing a tear, and lending a shoulder…"

Jesse took, "One is impossible, two is gloomy…"

And Blaine spun in his seat to sing, "Give another number to me," facing forward. Jesse saw him beam out of the corner of his eye before he bumped their shoulders together. "Side by side."

Jesse bumped back, rolling his eyes. "By side."

And then they were both chuckling, barely making it through the seemingly endless repeat, ("side by side by side…") Blaine alternating between bumping Jesse and flat out bouncing, his head dropping almost to Jesse's shoulder for the final, "by side!"

Jesse clunked out the last note, applause seemed to come from everywhere, and the two at the piano just collapsed into their own laughter. Yeah, that'd been the most fun Jesse'd had performing in a while. After all, it wasn't as if he didn't enjoy his time with Vocal Adrenaline – because he did. It was hard not to bask in the spotlight and the routine and the tight choreography. But what just happened with Blaine? It was… free. Different, somehow, than it was on the stage that accepted nothing short of perfection. And Blaine was good – could use some extra training – but very good.

So perhaps Blaine Anderson was worth Jesse's time, arrangement with his mother or not.

"We should do that again sometime," he found himself saying.

"Yeah… we should."

And that, as they say, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship… but also, a pretty messy disaster.