AN: The first chapter of a conversation ohheyjessica thought would make an amazing story.
I had fun writing this, and I hope you'll have fun reading it!
The next chapter will be written by my friend and partner-in-crime, ohheyjessica!
-WhenRiversTurnToRoads
P.S. I do not own Glee! If I did, it would be all about Klaine to a point where everyone got sick of it!
Chapter 1: Something That Was Wrong
The only thing Blaine felt was pain.
It was everywhere, swirling around him a dark cloud, choking him, pulling him under, downing him.
He couldn't see, couldn't think. The only thing was the white hot pain burning him alive.
He screamed.
XxXxX
Blaine's eyes snapped open.
His breathing was heavy and ragged. He was drenched in sweat and his arm was thumping, each beat bringing an intense sting.
He looked around frantically, trying to find his tormentors, so see if they had finally stopped… but all he saw was his bedframe and the familiar single Katy Perry poster on the wall.
He forced himself to take deep, calmed breaths.
That's right, he as fine. He had gotten out of the hospital yesterday and was in his own home, safe.
He closed his eyes, feeling the throbbing in his arm fade to a dull ache as he calmed himself down.
He would have to go to school again soon; apparently a broken wrist and some scrapes and bruises didn't call for him to be out for months on end, no matter his mental state.
He shuddered at the thought.
He couldn't go back there, not now, not ever.
All he'd be able to think about was them. Those halls had held so much torment for him, and this would just make it worse.
'I don't care about that place,' Blaine thought dryly. 'I'll just beg to go to that privet school… what was it called? Dayton? Dalrin? Who cares, it's the only place I'll be safe; it has a no harassment policy.'
The thought comforted him.
'Safety' was unfamiliar to him. He knew, logically, that there must have been a time he felt completely safe and protected, but it seemed a far off memory, like a forgotten dream.
Ever sense he had come-out, any hope of a normal life had been shattered.
His parents ignored him, even when he was in the hospital. And school was just pure hell, no matter how nice or helpful he tried to be.
Before, the thought may've made him cry. After the attack, however, he'd boxed up his emotions entirely.
No one cared, so why would he open himself up? He was just being a baby about it anyway, other people got off why worse than he had.
He sighed, using his uninjured arm to rub over his eyes.
He was exhausted, but he knew sleep would just lead to pain, darkness, and cruel laughter.
So he occupied himself by staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting between his own uselessness and the comforting arms of a place that finally accepted him.
XxXxX
"Blaine, we can't afford that and you know it." His mother stated firmly.
Blaine shook his head in disbelief. "You can't afford to keep your own son safe?"
He felt like the air had been pushed out of his lungs. There were horrible claws at his heart, ripping and pulling him apart as it taunted him with visions of his school, the evil, smirking faces looming over him…
His mother slammed her hands down on the table, disturbing his fearful thoughts.
"Blaine Anderson, you will not talk to me like that." She hissed angrily, than sighed, running a mousy hand through her graying hair. "We would have to mortgage the house to send you to that school." It was like she was talking to herself, more so than him.
Blaine was frantic. No, he wouldn't go back, couldn't go back. Not with those people still there, waiting, watching, sinister grins stretching their faces into something inhuman.
She sighed again, this time more tired than angry. "You won't go back to that school though, Blaine, I won't allow it."
In that moment, he saw his old mother, before he'd come out; the one with fire in her eyes and a passion and pride and protectiveness whenever she talked to or about him.
This was his real mother.
"There's another school, not so far away from here, called McKinley. I think you'll be fine there."
Blaine took a deep breath, scratching nervously at the cast around his left wrist. That was okay, somewhere else was fine. As long as it wasn't there…
XxXxX
Blaine sat stock-still in the Principal's office.
Instead of the normal comfort his hair-gel provided, now it just seemed to be suffocating him, closing in around his head, cutting off the circulation to his brain.
What if this new school was worse than the last? What if everyone questioned his move; what did he say? Everyone had their cliques already, how did he ever plan to make friends?
"Here is your schedule, mister…" Figgins checked the paper on his desk. "Anderson. You will not be going to your first class at this time."
Blaine was confused. Was there some rule where injured and traumatized transfers got to skip first hour? "Why?" he voiced, feeling his brow furrowing.
"The Cheerios are preforming, and the school gives them there full attention; they bring in a lot of money to this school."
That just confused Blaine even further.
"Cheerios, sir?"
"Cheerleaders, boy; surely a young teen like you can appreciate that!" the man said with almost a creepy cheeriness.
Blaine knew when to pick his battles, and certainly fighting the principal of his new school would be a huge mistake.
So, he just smiled and nodded and fallowed to man to the gymnasium.
XxXxX
Blaine couldn't help but stare.
He wasn't watching the girls flipping their obnoxiously short skirts around like some-excuse me-most of the guys, or admiring the performance like some of the girls; nope, his eyes were zeroed in on the male singer of the group.
With each sway of his hips, or ridiculously sexy growling drag of his voice during the chorus of '4 Minutes' Blaine just became more intoxicated.
He wasn't chasing demons around his own head, or focusing on what others might think of him, or picturing those who hurt him at every turn, he was just staring at this beautifully pale boy with the killer voice and-what seemed to Blaine-nearly pornographic dancing.
But then, one last staccato note and it was over. Everyone was standing and cheering-how could they not, after a performance like that?-and Blaine was pulled back into reality.
'Get a grip on yourself!' he scolded. 'He's probably dating another cheerleader, maybe the girl he was singing with. Besides, even if he were gay, why would he go out with you? You're just a broken little freshman with no friends; the new kid!'
He frowned hard at the truth in his words.
'Still,' he mused. 'It doesn't hurt to dream'
XxXxX
"Hey, yo, new kid!" a deep voice grumbled, making Blaine freeze.
He knew the voice of a bully when he heard it; it was only his first day and it looked like Hell was already sending him up a hand basket.
"Yes?" he said as he turned, voice brimming with confidence he didn't really feel.
The boy he was facing with huge. He could probably strangle Blaine with one hand without even trying. He was garbed in a red lettermen jacket and blue jeans, so stereotypical yet so terrifying at the same time.
"Just thought I'd let you know that I don't appreciate that faggy outfit in my school." He said, a superior smirk planted on his face that made Blaine shudder.
He felt tears brimming in his eyes because damn it, this was supposed to be his safe place when an angelic voice rang out "Leave him alone, Azimio."
Blaine turned and felt his blood heat up, his throat going dry. It was the cheerleader from before and he was even more gorgeous in person.
The uniform clung to him in all the right places, yet wasn't whorishly tight. His lips were thin and a tantalizing pedal pink color that Blaine just wanted to taste, though he didn't know why. The boy's hair was brown and slightly golden in the light from the window behind him, his creamy skin smoothing over a pointed nose and high cheek bones.
His ears were pointed to an elven degree and his eyes. God, those eyes! They were stormy blue and forest green and silver all at once, and Blaine felt like he may drown if he stared too long at them.
In his admiring, Blaine has missed an entire conversation, and now the bully was grumbling something about "if you weren't a Cheerio…" and walking away, leaving him relatively alone in the hall (except for a few stragglers) with his savior.
"Thank you." Blaine squeaked out, his voice higher than usual, which he loathed. What an awful first impression!
The pale boy smiled warmly and Blaine found himself having to catch his breath because wow, the whole room just exploded with light.
"It's fine, just try to avoid anyone wearing football garb unless you're on a sports team; it's like not being popular is a punishable offence around here." The boy said, his voice serious though he was still smiling.
Blaine's heart melted and he couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm Blaine Anderson, I just transferred." He held out his hand, proud of himself for not yipping at the boy like an over excited puppy.
The boy shook his hand once, his lean figures curling around Blaine's hand and he couldn't help but think 'they fit together' as the boy said "I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel."
Oh, what a lovely name for a lovely person.
Kurt's expression was suddenly serious. "Hey, if he bothers you again, come and talk to me, okay? You seem nice; you don't deserve their pig-headed-ness."
Blaine laughed again-he couldn't help it. He just felt so… light all of a sudden. No one had ever cared about him like that before.
'What are you doing idiot! He's straight! Don't go down this path again, you'll end up even more hurt then before' his subconscious warned.
Blaine immediately stiffened, but was still touched by Kurt's words.
"Alright Kurt; thank you again."
Kurt gave him another breathtaking smile, then left, leaving a heard of butterflies in Blaine's stomach as he watched Kurt strut down the hall like it was his.
Blaine was in trouble.