A/N: So this story began a few months ago as an awful little thing called These Old Halls.
I congratulate any of you who read it (it truly was shocking) and managed to not run away.
Here is the new, improved, 2.0 version.
I do not own Glee, or any of it's characters/creations. I would be able to eat RedVines every day if I did.
Anyhow, welcome to the Academy ^.^
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S1 EP1
Washington
"Welcome to the Academy."
These were the words that Professor Malkin, my new principal chose to welcome me to Dalton Academy, my new home.
Dalton Academy is a private boarding school, home to the Dalton Academy Warblers, and now to me too, I suppose.
I'm not here for better grades, or because my rich relative, Aunt Gertrude, just passed away and left me a hefty lump of cash in her will. I'm here because of David Karofsky.
I should explain; he's this Neanderthal at McKinley, the big, lumbering, bigger-than-you kind. He's bullied me for most of forever and after one of our usual confrontations got a little more heated than usual—okay, so he hate-kissed me—he threatened to kill me if I told anybody, which I haven't. Not unless Blaine Anderson counts as a somebody. And in my books, he definitely does.
Everything after that was a bit of a rush. There was a wedding and a meeting with Principal Figgins and a surprise ambush from my dad and stepmother in the corridor, and then boom.. I find myself here.
I did not run away. That is very important. Kurt Hummel is not a coward. Remember that.
But for now, I guess I can forget about David Karofsky, because I've been assured that this is a completely new start.
Completely. New. Start.
Wish me luck?
"Please don't cry. You'll see me again in five days."
Kurt rubbed a comforting hand on his stepmother's back as she sniffled into his shoulder, hugging him tightly.
It had been over a year that they had been in each other's lives now: countless family dinners, 46 trips to the mall and a wedding later found them here, stood outside the main gates to one of the most prestigious schools in all of Ohio. Over Carole's shoulder, Kurt could see his father, Burt, and behind him, three suitcases full of his best clothes and school supplies. There were tears in his eyes too, however he smiled and brushed them away.
The transfer was last-minute. In a matter of days, Burt and Carole had arranged for him to be moved to Dalton Academy, a school with a zero tolerance harassment policy. At William McKinley High, David Karofsky had threatened Kurt's life, and nobody, not even Coach Sue—who had been Principal at the time—was going to stand for it. Sue gave up her role as head of McKinley in order to keep an eye on Kurt in the corridor, but it was never going to be enough, and as grateful as Kurt was, he knew there wasn't much she could do to help him.
That was the point where Kurt had accepted that his life was just going to be miserable, that David was always going to torment him for the secret that they shared, and his escape would come at graduation, two years from then.
And then his father and his stepmother turned to him and gave him the news, news which he had to break to his friends, that he would not return to McKinley come Monday morning. With tears, he left the choir-room for the last time until.. Well, he wasn't sure when—or if—he would return.
The three of them had already paid a visit to the Headmaster, Professor Malkin, who had named his newest student 'Porcelain' at his request—a name that had grown on him, considering it was better than 'Lady' any day of the week.
As Carole freed Kurt from her grip, Burt immediately pulled him into another vice-like hug, threatening to crush his tiny body under the pressure. He held a hand to the back of Kurt's head, and the boy squirmed a little, feeling his perfectly groomed hair already beginning to change under his father's hand. Burt let go and brushed his son off, checking that his collar was okay and straightening his tie, reaching at one point to take his Jack Georges leather briefcase from his shoulder but earning a scowl and retracting his hand.
Carole hugged Kurt again and bid him goodbye, promising him that there would be his favourite dinner waiting for him in their house at the weekend, before disappearing back to where Burt had parked the car.
Burt looked at his son almost sadly, silent as ever, mouth curved up into a smile. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"Give me a hand with these bags, will you? We're already late." He reached down to struggle with the largest of the three suitcases, the one that Kurt had crammed all of his new text-books into, along with half of his designer scarf collection and an endless supply of socks, on behalf of Carole. Kurt took the hefty case from his father's hand and indicated for him to take the two lighter ones, which were only packed with a few of his favourite outfits and the rest of his uniform.
"I think it's this way.." Kurt said quietly as they walked through the large wrought-iron gate, his new shoes now clapping loudly on the stone pavings that wove the path to the four dormitories, and ultimately led to the main schooling building. There was no map, or sign posts, and to be honest Kurt hadn't really expected there to be. Although, he wasn't really sure what he had expected. Of course, he had been to Dalton before. Twice. But this time it was different. Now he had the time to freely observe the way the four dormitories all perfectly aligned with each other, how the path to the left also led out into some kind of courtyard, and the far right path led to another fifth dormitory that Kurt had not noticed on previous visits. The academy was surrounded by dark pine trees of all shapes and sizes, and in the centre of the stone pavings—right at the centre of the campus, Kurt presumed—there was a fountain with the clearest, most crystalline water.
He decided that the Washington dormitory—which was where he had been assigned a room—was on the left of the campus and closest to the gate. The building could be seen clearly, however there was still no sign, so Kurt took a chance and beckoned for his father to follow him.
It wasn't until they reached the large entrance door to the building that Kurt remembered the map that Blaine had given him, which had been carefully folded up and tucked into his pocket. As Burt rolled his eyes at him, he took out the map and triple checked that they were at the right building. Yes, this was the Washington dorm. The map also provided him with the names of the other three dormitories—Jefferson, Hamilton and Franklin—and that the 'secret' fifth building was where the professor's stayed during term-times—known as the Madison building. Taking a silent glance at Burt, who was once again beginning to struggle under the weight of Kurt's luggage, he took a breath and started towards the front doors.
Avery sat on the staircase leading down to the Washington entrance hall. He sat alone, head resting in his pale hands—which in turn rested on the knees he had pulled up to his chest—staring into space. Large green eyes flickered back and forth between the wooden floor and the grand front doors, and he pushed ash brown hair out of his eyes every so often. His breathing was slow and deep, seeming as if he had been sat there for an awfully long time. He hummed as he sat, then fell silent for a few moments, then resumed humming, alternating between the silence and the low rumble in his throat.
He was waiting for somebody who was either very lost or very late.
He wore the typical uniform, however his blazer was absent, and his jumper sleeves were rolled up to reveal pale, slender, freckled arms and light brown hairs. His wrists were just slim enough to hint at the bone structure that lay beneath the flesh, and his fingers were long and drawn out, as if they had been put to work on a guitar or a piano more times than countable. His large eyes gave him the look of innocence and youth, but the line of faint stubble on his jaw told another story.
He sang quietly in a soft, calm voice, comfortable in the knowledge that he wouldn't be heard.
I am green today.
I chirp with joy, like a cricket song.
I am grey today.
Gloomy and down, like a morning fog.
As he sang, he moved his eyes around the hall and to the grand window that let in all of the natural light, a group of birds flying overhead making him smile softly.
I am orange today.
Loud and messy, like finger paint on the wall.
I am red today.
Hopping mad, like a playground ball.
There was a silence as he drew in breath, his eyes closing for a fraction of a second before opening again.
I am black today.
Strong and tall, like a great big bear.
I am purple today.
Bright and happy, like a butterfly in the air.
As he sang quietly, he picked at the nail on his thumb, occasionally stopping to scratch his palm or slot his fingers together, always returning to pick at the nail.
I'm a rainbow today.
All the colours of the world.
I'm a rainbow today.
All the colours of the world.
There was a sudden darkness in the hall as a cloud passed over the sun, and Avery whistled at the change. It moved on quickly, allowing the sunlight to return to the room.
I'm a rainbow today.
All the colours of the world are in me.
As the door that he had been so thoroughly watching for the past hour swung open, the hushed sound of lowered voices immediately hit his ears. They almost pricked at the sound, as he waited for the owners of the voices to appear in the hallway. A boy, not much older than him, and a man, presumably his father, trudged through the door nervously, sharing a load of three suitcases between them.
The figures looked around the hall curiously, and Avery grimaced as he saw the newcomer's eyes widen, instantly drawn to the faint—yet noticeable—burn marks on the floor leading from the kitchen, the exact place where the flames had—No, he didn't like to think about that. Shaking himself a little, he leapt up from his step and bounded down the few steps to the bottom. As he reached the last step, he stood on the shoelace which he was sure he had tied, and tripped, landing face-down on the wooden floor with a whelp and a thud.
Across the hall, Kurt dropped the heavy suitcase he had been lugging around and ran to help the boy who had just tumbled down the stairs and into his eye line. He offered a hand down to the ashen haired student, and he used it to heave himself up. Burt stood at a distance, watching the situation quietly.
Kurt held the boy's shoulders as he steadied himself, grinning and insisting loudly that he was okay. He took in the moss coloured eyes, the umber tone of his hair, the freckles smattered across his cheeks and the beginnings of stubble on his jaw. The boy held out a hand to Kurt, who noticed the fingernails that were cut short and the rough tips of his fingers, deciding that he was a guitar-player.
"Avery Taylor. Sophomore." The boy grinned, friendly and bright, full of confidence despite his fall. Kurt smiled back, finding Avery's enthusiasm contagious.
"Kurt Hummel. Uh," Kurt had never had to introduce himself with his year before, but went along with it for the purposes of politeness. "Junior. I just transferred—"
"Oh, don't worry, I know! I've been assigned to show you to your room and settle you in." Avery let go of Kurt's hand and ran to help Burt with the suitcases, taking one from him before offering a free hand to the man with a friendly beam. He introduced himself again to Burt, who was bemused with the new face and nodded along.
"I, uh.. Burt Hummel." He spluttered, as Avery let go of his hand and bounded off towards where he had left Kurt, Burt stumbling along behind him. He beckoned for Burt and Kurt to follow him as he took the stairs two at a time, and Kurt could see it was a bad idea before he had even reached the top, as Avery tripped on one of the steps and fell, knocking his elbow with a bang and causing the suitcase to pull him down a few steps. Once again, he just picked himself up and continued up the stairs, pulling the suitcase with him as if it now weighed absolutely nothing.
Kurt looked at his father, who seemed to have surpassed the initial shock of Avery's bright personality and was able to move properly again, and the two followed up the stairs, Kurt reaching Avery before Burt had even reached the top of the staircase. There was little time to take in any of the splendid décor of Dalton's halls, as Kurt had to watch where he was putting his feet, not wanting to trip Avery up for a third time within the space of five minutes.
"So, are you just naturally awkward then?" Kurt asked, laughing as Avery grinned at him once more. With a dignified nod, Avery flashed another pearly white smile at him.
"Nature does nothing in vain." He replied. This puzzled Kurt. That was not an answer to his question, that was more of a philosophical insight. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and instead Avery opened his mouth to speak.
"That was Aristotle." He explained, and Kurt realised that it actually was a philosophical insight.
He couldn't help but stare at Avery for a second, whose eyes were the colour of the trees outside, yet seemed to hide some sort of pain, and whose mere existence almost sparkled with energy. He had a natural air around him, the scent of forests and fresh-water lakes just lingering over him, giving him an earthy presence. His dark hair was just fluffy enough to make Kurt want to touch it, if that was a socially acceptable thing to do. Freckles gave him a look of innocence, yet combined with his knowledge of Aristotle made him seem wise, in an odd way Kurt didn't really understand.
Likewise, Avery was momentarily captivated by Kurt. Blue eyes with flecks of grey and green and all the colours in-between made him lose track of everything, however there was something else, a hint of the past in that glassy expression. He had full lips that never quite met, always leaving a gap between the two, however his smile was broad and bright. His hair was styled and held perfectly into place by the hairspray that Kurt could never wash away the smell of, no matter how much apricot scrub he used.
Avery nodded, eyes sliding away from Kurt as the other's boys had done from him, moving slightly faster now as they took a right at the far end of the long stretch of floor at the top of the stairs. This led down a long corridor, oak doors with different numbers lining either side, and they walked until they reached number 12, outside which Avery stopped and set down the suitcase, hand diving into his pocket and pulling out a key. It didn't stand out from the other doors in any way, except that the golden number plaque had a few splatters of white paint on it, and the lock looked newer than the others on the doors around it.
He held the key out to Kurt, flat in his palm, warm from his pocket and reflecting the light in an odd way. Kurt took it and smoothed it over in his hand, feeling the pattern of the metal that would turn only the lock in his door. A panting sound behind him made him turn, and he found that his father had caught them up, slightly out of breath but no worse for wear.
The key slid into the lock, and with a click, the door opened.
"Wow." Kurt breathed.
He had opened the door of his new dormitory, Burt and Avery close on his heels, to find a magnificent mural painted on the wall to the immediate left of his door, opposite to the window. The colours confused his brain for a moment, and he struggled to make out the image or the words. After a moment, he could make out the painting: a yellow canary, mid-flight, free from it's cage and confinement, with dozens of bright colours bursting out of the open cage door behind it. Kurt's mouth hung open as his eyes moved around the wall, taking in the streaks and smears of paint, something which would have been called 'graffiti' or 'vandalism' anywhere else, but here could only be described as 'beautiful'. There were words painted underneath the bird, words that seemed so simple yet so inspiring to Kurt.
Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.
Kurt turned back to look at Burt, who's mouth also hung open as he took in the artwork on the wall. Avery stood behind, and as Burt moved into the room, he swiftly followed, stubbing his toe on the doorframe with a curse beforehand.
The suitcases were left in the corner, as Kurt put the large case he had been holding down and the other two were left close by. Kurt's eyes moved back up to the wall, just looking at the colours, before a tentative hand reached out and gentle fingertips pressed against the paint. He ran his fingers along the cold wall, tracing the lines of colour and imagining it was he who was painting it on now.
"Something tells me that you played a part in this?" He said, directing his words at Avery, who looked at the mural with a blank expression.
"The words, yes." Avery's voice was almost that of sorrow, as his eyes moved across the colours silently, soon looking away and out of the window, lips tight. Burt didn't say anything as he watched the two boys. After a few minutes went by in silence, he took his cap off and replaced it again.
"Kurt, I'm gonna have to make a move if you want those show tickets." He sighed, and Kurt immediately looked across the room at him, his own eyes rolling towards the ceiling and his brows arching high up on his forehead.
"They're not show tickets Dad, they're Les Miserables tickets.." He corrected.
"You know what I meant." He ambled across the room and enveloped Kurt in another hug, leaving the boy lost in the grip of his father for a moment, suddenly feeling like it was Elementary school all over again, wanting nothing more than to be taken home.
But Burt let go, and the feeling faded, and Kurt remembered the importance of this clean slate. With a ruffle of Kurt's hair—earning him a scowl and a noise that was reminiscent of a hissing cat—Burt walked out of the still-open door, leaving Kurt and Avery alone.
Now that Burt had gone, it seemed different. Kurt had Avery with him, yes, but now he felt more nervous than before. Avery's reaction to the mural had suggested that it maybe had some deep personal connection to him, but Kurt couldn't be sure what. His head turned back to look at the wall, eyes wide as he took it all in over and over again.
The canary and its tribute pulled a lot of focus from the rest of the room, which was equally as beautiful. His bed was the finest oak wood, the sheets the same pattern as the tie he wore—navy blue and stocking-red stripes—the pillows plump and inviting. In-between the foot of his bed and the wall, there was another door, the same oak as the bed and other door, which he assumed would lead in to a small bathroom of his own.
A wooden table and three chairs stood in the right corner closest to the door, messily arranged, as though the people who had sat there last had simply forgotten to tuck their chairs back under. In the left corner was a large dresser, made of the same wood as the rest of the furniture. It stood tall against the wall and Kurt began to wonder how many items of clothing he could cram into it before the doors would burst open.
Opposite to the mural, there was a large window that looked out on the stone pavings behind the Washington dormitories. To the left, the courtyard could be seen, straight ahead there were the dorms that—as his map had told him earlier—belonged to the Jefferson students. Beyond that, Dalton itself stood tall and proud, easily visible from any area of the campus. To the right, there was the fountain and Kurt could see the Hamilton dormitories too. From any angle, he could see the large forest that enclosed the campus, and the stretch of magnificently blue sky, puffs of Autumn cloud just floating on the breeze high above. The sun cast a glow across the whole of the academy, making it more wonderful than it had seemed in any of the leaflets that Kurt had read through.
"Impressive, right?" Avery's voice sounded young and crisp as it brought Kurt back to reality and away from the clouds. He nodded a silent reply and Avery shuffled over to stand next to him at the window. He was only slightly shorter than Kurt, however they had the same structure and a shared elegance in the way that they stood.
"Time for the tour then." Avery grinned, and Kurt smiled back as the boy led the way back out of the room.
Avery was prancing back down the stairs, somehow graceful despite the amount of times he missed a step and flew down the next few with a sharp intake of breath. As Kurt hurried to keep up with him, he laughed and turned his head to look back at the Junior.
"Keep up, Bambi!" He called joyously, and Kurt pulled a face.
"Why am I Bambi?" Was his reply, as he cautiously tried not to make the same mistake of missing a step as Avery did, however Avery just threw his head back in a gleeful laugh and jumped down the last three steps. He carried on moving, fast and impossibly agile for somebody who tripped over at every possible opportunity. He turned left at the bottom of the stairs and proceeded down the narrow corridor.
Kurt continued following until Avery stopped at the entrance to a large room filled with bookcases, a collection of leather seating around a large coffee table, and then several smaller tables around the room with leather chairs around them. It was a mix between a coffee shop and an antique furniture shop. There were obvious signs of inhabitation, such as the countless coffee cups and takeaway boxes, the scattered papers on every table and the large bookcases lining the far side of the room, filled with books of every kind.
"This is the Washington common room." Avery grinned sheepishly.
"Charming." Kurt said, as he noticed a coffee coloured stain on one of the cream cushions that rested on the nearest couch. Looking around the room, he could easily pick out the faults. There were missing keys on the computer in the corner, a vase on a shelf nearby that had definitely been broken and then glued back together several times. Kurt gathered by the takeaway cartons and pizza boxes that nobody really knew how to cook, and the packets of RedVines and Hershey's wrappers gave him the impression that the Washington students had a liking for sugary snacks. This, combined with the uncountable coffee cups, brought images of insanely hyper-active students into Kurt's already worried mind.
"It's not much, but it's home." Avery said quietly, and Kurt turned to see him staring out of the window.
"Home?" He asked, trying to make out the expression on his new companion's face, whose eyes watched a little bird flutter around in the top of the fountain outside, lips relaxed but jaw tensed. Avery ignored his question for a second time, refusing to look back into the room. Kurt sensed that he had touched a nerve and looked to change the subject, however, as he made to speak, a noise behind him startled him and he whipped around on his heels to see a figure stood in the doorway.
The boy had a strong set face, quite full lips, a small yet flattering nose and deep brown eyes, although there were the tiniest hints of bronze in his dark irises. Black, shoulder length hair hung in loose waves and the longest points just reached the figure's shoulders, a fringe sweeping across his face. He wore red-flannel pyjamas and grey socks, the look of somebody who had either been asleep for hours, or hadn't slept at all. He was the same height as Kurt, meaning that they were at eye-level with each other.
"Avery, you could at least try not to fall down the stairs you know." The boy spoke, looking past Kurt to where Avery stood in the window, a deep tone with a scowl to follow up. Avery, who hadn't heard the arrival of the student, didn't move at all. He didn't need to, he knew the voice better than his own.
"Oh, calm down Jay." He retorted, back turned to the room and eyes still focused on the bird in the fountain. Jay advanced further into the room, leaving the shadow of the doorframe and moving closer to where Kurt stood.
"Kurt Hummel, right?" He said, the deep tone used to converse with Avery now gone, and replaced with a light and friendly one. Kurt nodded and held out a perfectly manicured hand for Jay to shake. The boy looked down at the hand for a moment, and just as Kurt was about to pull away, took it firmly in his own and shook it. His hand was rough on Kurt's, and Kurt began to wonder if Dalton was inadequate in the moisturising area. Jay let go first, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, in his attempt to show some sort of kindness towards Kurt.
Avery had moved away from the window during their introduction, and was now leant against the arm of the nearest leather sofa, his left arm crossed over his body to hold the right, legs crossed over in a similar way. He watched Jay and Kurt as they stood opposite to each other, observing the similarities in their stance and how their actions seemed to mirror each other, unable to tell who was copying who. Jay looked at him, looked him right in the eye with curiosity.
They seemed to have a conversation through knowing looks and the slightest of head movements, and Avery shuffled slightly under the gaze of the taller boy.
"Just take more care when you're gallivanting around, please." Jay said, brows low and eyes full of a meaning that Kurt couldn't interpret. For a split second, Avery looked as though he was going to walk to Jay for an embrace of some kind, however he just nodded and looked away.
"Blaine's said quite a bit about you, Kurt." Jay smiled, and Kurt wondered what kind of things Blaine could have been saying. "I'm in 13, so just knock if you ever need anything, kay?" He turned away from the pair with a smile and left the room, and Kurt could hear his foot-steps on the floors as he walked, wondering how he hadn't heard his approach earlier. Kurt shot a glance at Avery, who was picking at his nails, eyes staring at some point not quite in focus. He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, however, and looked to Kurt with a small smile, before standing up and blinking a few times.
"On with the tour."
Blaine Anderson was finding it incredibly difficult to focus on his lesson. Unfortunately, Professor Larkin was one of the many professors whose voice had no tone, and Blaine soon found that he had filled a sheet of A4 with a scrawled set of notes and lyrics. His habit of absent-mindedly writing songs during lessons was something that he'd never been able to help, at least not since his mother had walked out of his life.
The bell rang for second lesson after what felt like the longest hour of Blaine's life, and the classroom came to life as students eagerly surged towards the door. Blaine was in no rush—he had been excused from his second period lesson on the protocol that he was to ensure that Avery had managed to keep Kurt conscious, and not accidentally push him down the stairs, as he had done on several occasions to other boys.
It was hard to even comprehend how easily Kurt and Avery could get into trouble at Dalton; Kurt being the new-kid, and Avery, the constantly-in-too-deep Sophomore. But it had been Malkin's orders, and not even Blaine was going to disrespect those. Despite that, he had still argued against the idea of leaving the two alone for the morning, and had been permitted to leave his lesson, which was good enough for him. As he gathered his things and forced them into his bag, Larkin lingered near to him, and he hurried, desperate not to get caught up in a pointless conversation, as he usually was—too polite to excuse himself.
Soon he was out of the classroom, out of the Dalton building itself and making his way down the stone pavings that traced the campus. There weren't many students around, as lessons were all held in the main building, however one or two passed him as he walked, and offered him smiles and grins, and—in one case—even a high-five. The sun was warm on the back of his neck, the final spout of good weather before the harsh Winter arrived and plunged Dalton right into snowstorm-central for a few weeks. A few birds flew overhead and disappeared into the surrounding trees, and the smoke-trails of a plane left white ribbons in the sky. It was one of the finer days of the season, as the previous weeks had only offered battering, gale force winds and grey clouds that rolled in miserable waves over the campus.
Blaine made a distressed noise, looking up at the Washington dormitory as it came into view, noticing one of the top floor windows had been smashed since he had left early that morning. It was ridiculous how quickly things were broken in the Washington dorms, and he made a mental note to inform David of the problem, as he reached the small set of stone steps that led up to the entrance door.
The door didn't exactly creak open, but it wasn't noiseless either. It was a characteristic noise that felt familiar and homely, and Blaine pressed his lips together in a smile as he closed the door behind him. The hall showed no sign of further destruction, however the faint smell of smoke and fire could still be picked up on, and Blaine cringed away from the source—the kitchen from which the floor burn marks came from, the room that held memories for everybody—instead making his way to the commons, where he presumed Avery would have taken Kurt to.
Much to his surprise, Blaine found the commons empty. He took a packet of RedVines from the closest coffee table, careful not to knock any of the already chipped coffee cups or takeaway cups onto the floor, feeling the crinkle of the packet beneath his fingers. RedVines were his only comfort-food, and also the favourite snack of many of the Washingtons, therefore always available. He chewed silently for a while, looking around the room for anything that needed fixing or replacing before Malkin caught wind of it, but unable to find anything, he replaced the packet in the mess and left the room.
As he turned out of the commons, there were voices coming from the Washington hall, and he smiled to himself as he recognised the clear and sharp voice of Kurt, the soft and quiet voice of Avery in contrast, earthy and naturally low. Rubbing his palms, he walked the short distance from the door of the commons to the door of the hall, where he stopped and leant against the frame for a second.
"Hello there."
His greeting was casual, smiling with his eyes, lingering for only a second before striding into the room. The light was streaming in through the glass ceiling, leaving no part of the room in darkness. His eyes quickly found where Avery stood by the large window, and then were Kurt was frozen in the middle of the room. He had the expression of awe as he looked from the grand piano to the great glass cover above them, unable to close his mouth as he took everything in.
Kurt looked away from the glass roof and turned to Blaine with a smile. Avery also turned and offered the smallest of smiles to the Junior, floating away from the window and closer to where Kurt stood instead.
"I hope you're finding Dalton to be to your liking?" Blaine's voice was coy and smug, almost as if he knew that Kurt was always going to be amazed by his new life and he wasn't afraid to impress him, however his face told a different story, as he expressed genuine concern for Kurt's liking of his new school. If Kurt didn't like it here, if he felt like he didn't belong, then he would be miserable, and Blaine knew how that felt. Kurt didn't deserve that—nobody did.
"It's so.." Kurt breathed, unable to put it into words, and Blaine just nodded, shooting a sideways grin at Avery, who crossed one arm across his body to hold the other.
"So Kurt, we've got an hour to kill. What do you want to see now?" Blaine said, looking across the table at Kurt and Avery. He had them seated around one of the tables in the commons, planning how to spend the next 60 minutes or so. Avery had slipped into a mournful silence for reasons that neither Kurt or Blaine could discern, and it was with a slight paleness to his face that he stood up and looked at the pair.
"I've got homework to do. I'll catch you later." He excused himself quietly, before moving swiftly out of the room. Kurt's head turned to watch him leave, however Blaine kept his gaze down low, focused on the table.
"Is he- okay?" Kurt asked quietly, his eyes slipping back to Blaine, who raised his head to look back up and smile softly, not sure how to explain.
"He's a little..." He paused for a second, "Tricky?" With a sigh, he leant back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs slowly, as if contemplating something deep. Neither boy spoke for what felt like too long.
"Blaaaaaaaainers?" A voice called loudly from the corridor, and another voice echoed the call just as loudly. Blaine rolled his eyes with a groan as the voices neared and he looked to Kurt with an apologetic grimace. Kurt caught his look just seconds before two boys burst through the doorway, grinning and making an absurd amount of noise for just two people. Kurt would recognise them anywhere—Wes and David.
"Why hello there, Mr Anderson." David said with a smile, bowing in a dramatic and extravagant way, while Wes curtsied not-so-delicately, his foot nowhere near in the right position, Kurt noted.
"And Mr Hummel!" Wes exclaimed, realising that Kurt was also seated at the table, returning to an upright position and throwing his hands up into the air. "My, aren't we the lucky ones, David?"
With a nod, David linked arms with his counterpart and they advanced on the table that Blaine had chosen, reaching where he sat and hovering over Blaine like vultures.
'How did you two escape from class this time?' Blaine sighed, his head in his hands, however Kurt could see the smallest of grins on his hidden face. Wes and David made shocked faces, exaggerated and so farce that Kurt couldn't help but laugh at them, as they laughed at themselves.
"Escape?" Wes cried, in apparent outrage at the suggestion. "You mock us, sir!"
"We simply dazzled Professor Keane with our charm and wit-" David said.
"-our dashing good looks-" Wes added.
"-and our general good nature." Wes finished with a nod.
"Or, if you prefer," David began, "-we skipped Chemistry, in order to spend some time with our darling Blainers and his delightful friend." He flashed a smile at Kurt, who was trying desperately to stifle the fit of laughter that he was sure would burst free at any moment. Blaine wearily gestured for them to sit down, as if their mere presence was taking an awful lot of energy out of him, and he needed them to sit down before they drained him completely.
"Mr Hummel, spiffing to see you again." David had taken on—what he presumed was—a strong, yet incredibly exaggerated English accent. As he spoke, he pulled out a chair from the table with one hand, and held the other out for Kurt, who shook it with a grin. Wes did the same on the other side, and Kurt shook his hand also, feeling the different textures of their skin on his—Wes's smooth like printer-paper and David's rough, almost like cardboard.
"David," Blaine began, and the Senior instantly turned to beam at him. "There's a window up on second that needs taking care of."
David flipped his hand casually, a look that said 'not now' across his face, as he turned to Kurt. Blaine rolled his eyes and settled himself back in his chair.
"Kurt! How are you?" David smiled, and Kurt nodded slightly.
"I'm good, thank you David. And you?"
"He's fine." Wes butted in, and David punched him playfully on the arm. "Our darling Blaine has been treating you well, we hope?" He winked at Kurt, a proper wink, complete with dazzling smile. Kurt could easily see why he had a girlfriend.
"Actually," Blaine had leant forward once more, his hands locked together in front of him, a stern but softened face. "Avery has been showing him around. I just got here."
Wes and David pulled confused faces at each other, the humour from before gone.
"Where is he now?" David asked, and Blaine pointed a finger up towards the ceiling. Both Seniors nodded in understanding and Wes looked to David with wide eyes, a look that only he could interpret.
"Shall we go and— fix that window, now?" He said, and David nodded. Kurt could sense some hidden meaning conveyed between the two, assuming that they were also going to see if Avery hadn't fallen down the stairs on their journey to fix the window.
"Oh, and Kurt," Wes said, as the pair stood to leave, "Meet us in the hall just down the corridor this morning break." With a smile, he followed David out of the room and into the corridor. Kurt turned his attention to Blaine, who had sat back in his chair again, twiddling his thumbs on the table-top.
"Why do they want to see me at break?" Kurt asked, nervous about what Wes and David could possibly want with him.
"To ask you to be a Warbler, silly!" Blaine grinned, his mood instantly lighter now that the Seniors had left the room. "I may, or may-not have told them that you're an amazing singer-" He smirked a little, not taking notice of the sudden green shade of Kurt's cheeks. "-and they may, or may-not want to hear you sing."
If Kurt had been green before, now he was an unmistakeable shade of sickly spinach. "What? I haven't prepared anything!"
Blaine couldn't help but chuckle, dodging the hand that Kurt threw out to slap his shoulder.
"It's not funny, Blaine!" Kurt snapped, and Blaine's face fell. "I didn't know they'd want me to sing. What am I meant to do now, sing some cheap and unplanned rendition of a classic Broadway song, ruining it and my reputation at this school before I've even begun? How am I-" He babbled, and Blaine interjected before Kurt exploded, or worse.
"I could help you prepare now? I'm sure Wes and David will let you perform a duet." He suggested helpfully.
Kurt glowered at him. "Don't be ridiculous, what can I teach you now?" In his fury—both at Blaine for not warning him of such an event, and himself, for not thinking ahead and foreseeing this—he refused to look at Blaine, who struggled to understand the sudden anger of his friend.
Blaine thought for a moment, before smiling to himself. "You know that song by Counting Crows?" His voice came out loud to begin with, but he trailed off as he continued. "Um, Accidentally In Love?" A hand rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous reflex, and he offered a shy smile to Kurt, who raised an eyebrow at him, meeting his gaze once again.
"This could work."
Kurt and Blaine walked into the Washington Hall as soon as the bell rang out for morning break. Wes and David were sat close to the grand piano, a spare seat between them. Without warning, Thad rushed in behind Kurt, almost knocking him over, and took a seat next to David at the Warbler's council table. As Blaine steadied Kurt, he shot a sour look at Thad, who simply flipped him off with his eyes. Kurt took a moment to look around the room once more. It was still hard to fully appreciate the difference between McKinley and Dalton. Blaine's eyes crinkled as he beamed across at him, the distaste towards Thad gone from his face and replaced with the friendly face that Kurt knew and loved.
Wes spoke first.
"So Kurt, Blaine told us you have an amazing voice and, well—to put it lightly—we need to hear it."
David laughed and Thad nodded. Blaine pried Kurt away from the open door, still having to encourage him, despite Kurt's apparent confidence.
"I hope you boys don't mind, but I asked Blaine to accompany me?" Kurt smiled, shooting sideways glances at Blaine. Thad nodded once again and David smiled in approval.
"The stage is yours." Wes said.
Blaine turned to Kurt, who smiled and took a deep breath. He was nervous, but surely this would be nothing compared to the fourteen minute long Celine Dion solo he had performed, entirely in French of course, in order to win Sue's Cheerios their Nationals a mere year ago.
"One, two, three.." Blaine mouthed at Kurt, who smiled. Blaine was first, and his voice would be no surprise to the Seniors, but what would they think of Kurt?
So she said "What's the problem baby?"
What's the problem? I don't know.
Well, maybe I'm in love, love.
Think about it everytime I think about it.
Can't stop thinking 'bout it.
He smiled at Kurt, who started to sing his own part. Wes, David and Thad all leaned forward in their seats slightly, a change that Kurt couldn't help but pick up on, as he cleared his throat.
How much longer will it take to cure this?
Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it.
If it's love, love.
Makes me wanna turn around and face me.
But I don't know nothing 'bout love.
Thad's mouth fell open slightly as Kurt's high tones filled the air, David just stared and Wes crossed his arms, smiling happily. Blaine launched into the chorus, and Kurt joined in for every other line.
Come on, come on.
Turn a little faster.
Come on, come on.
The world will follow after.
Come on, come on.
Cause everybody's after love.
Blaine's smooth, low voice mixed with Kurt's higher pitch and caused some kind of fusion, the likes of which neither Wes, David nor Thad had experienced before. As Blaine began his next verse, he started to dance the infamous make-it-up dance, that was well known to any and all who had seen him perform.
So I said I'm a snowball running.
Running down into the spring that's coming.
All this love.
Melting under blue skies.
Belting out sunlight shimmering love.
Kurt, smiling, began to try and join in the dance too, but lacking Blaine's stage confidence—and spatial awareness—he stuck to his legendary shoulder-wiggle. The Senior Warblers seemed impressed all the same, as he started to sing again.
Well baby I surrender to the strawberry ice-cream.
Never ever end of all this love.
Well I didn't mean to do it.
But there's no escaping your love.
Blaine rejoined Kurt for the next chorus.
These lines of lightning mean we're never alone, never alone, no no.
Come on, come on.
Move a little closer.
Come on, come on.
I wanna hear you whisper.
Come on, come on.
Settle down inside my love.
There were now somewhat dancing around each other, Blaine doing most of the 'around' part and Kurt remaining relatively grounded. Blaine moved while they sang the chorus, and Kurt sent flashing smiles to the Seniors, any previous nerves from before gone.
Come on, come on.
Jump a little higher!
Come on, come on.
If you feel a little lighter.
Come on, come on.
We were once upon a time in love.
They sang the last lines together—Blaine stopped spinning and stood close to Kurt, beaming like idiots and singing into each other's faces, in a way that would be deemed rude in any other situation.
We're accidentally in love.
Accidentally in love.
We're accidentally in love.
Accidentally in love.
We're accidentally in love.
Accidentally in love.
Oh, I'm in love.
Silence fell, and the three Seniors stood up to applaud the pair, who laughed at each other. Blaine patted Kurt on the back playfully and Kurt pulled him into a hug in return. Over Blaine's shoulder, Kurt suddenly saw something that caused his heart to leap up from his chest and into his mouth. He pulled away from Blaine and stared at the scene, and Blaine turned around sharply.
A huddle of students stood at the door, and—upon realising that they had been noticed by the performers—erupted into a rabble of clapping, cheering, and occasional whoops. Kurt didn't recognise any of them, except for the tall blonde one near to the back, perhaps, but his name wouldn't come to mind.
Kurt could feel colour flushing to his cheeks, hot and red and full of embarrassment, yet with the slightest hint of pride. He stole a glance to the Seniors, who all shared the same look of approval, and Blaine gripped his shoulders as David hushed the rabble at the door.
"Kurt Hummel," Wes smiled. "Welcome to the Warblers."
It was chaos after the audition, there was no other way to describe it. Countless students—some Warblers, some just Washington boarders—approached both him and Blaine to tell them how wonderful they were, how great they sounded together, and how Kurt's voice was so loud and clear they had heard it from outside of the dorms. In some ways, it was flattering, but more than anything, it frightened Kurt.
Blaine was almost used to this kind of praise. Kurt, however, wasn't, and he'd had to ask a group of non-Warbler Washingtons to excuse him, before he vomited all over their expensive leather shoes. He hurried out into the corridor and away from the hall, not exactly sure where we he was going. But as always—when scared—he ran.
What he was scared of, he wasn't sure, but it was as if the events of the entire morning had suddenly caught up with him, and everything that he hadn't been able to take in suddenly filled his mind.
He pelted out of the main doors to Washington, past a gathering of confused students on their way in, apologising as he continued to gain as much distance between his new admirers and himself as possible. Remembering the basic layout of the campus from the map that he had left somewhere in his dorm, he decided to head for the courtyard, hoping that he would be able to sit in peace.
Upon surveying the courtyard, he hastened towards a bench that he initially didn't notice, secluded under the shade of a willow tree. The drooping branches hung down and hid the bench from sight, and so Kurt picked that for the purposes of his seclusion. He parted some of the vine-line branches and walked through, then perched himself on the bench.
He'd always wanted to be in the spotlight instead of Rachel, but on his first day? He hadn't expected such a welcoming, as grateful for the appreciation as he was. It was as if Dalton was completely opposite to McKinley in every way, and if so, that meant people would be throwing themselves at Kurt, and not throwing things at him instead. Did this mean he already had a place? Or would he struggle to fit in, being the voice that none of the Warblers had heard before?
Kurt didn't know the answer to either of his questions.
He hid his face in his hands, holding himself together, trying to lose himself in his 'happy place'—as often advised to by Emma Pillsbury—when a voice brought him back to reality.
"Kurt?"
The voice was new—it wasn't smooth like Blaine's or young like Avery's; it was sharp, elegant.
Kurt lifted his head out of his hands to see the newcomer part the branches just as he had, and stoop into the shade of the tree.
A boy stood over him, a hesitant expression on his face.
Bottle-blonde hair just brushed across his shoulders, reminding Kurt vaguely of Sam Evans, however his eyes were large and grey, taking in every aspect of Kurt as he sat on the bench. The grey seemed to reflect the light in a way Kurt had never seen before, intriguing him slightly.
"Yes?" Kurt answered, and the figure stooped down into a patch of light.
He had a relatively small nose and thin lips, however his jaw line was square and obviously an inheritance feature. His eyes seemed to narrow slightly as he looked at Kurt. There was a look of familiarity about him, one of those faces that he was sure he recognised from somewhere. He smiled thinly at Kurt, who smiled back, still curious as to who he was.
"Can I sit down?" The voice made Kurt shiver, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He sub-consciously tried to flatten them back down as he nodded, and the boy sat next to him, perhaps just a little too close for Kurt's liking.
"I'm Cordell."
Kurt wasn't sure what to make of this information. He still couldn't really control his thoughts, and flashes of Warbler faces blew through his mind, echoes of their praise in his ears.
"I saw you run out of Washington, I take it you're boarding there?" Cordell spoke again. He smiled at Kurt, but it looked pained, forced. Kurt nodded, unsure of how much trust to put in him, not wanting to come across as hostile nonetheless. Cordell definitely wasn't in Washington, because Kurt could see a yellow prefect badge pinned to his blazer—knowing from Blaine that each house had a colour, and blue belonged to the Washingtons—however he was a Warbler, because he had the well-known canary patch sewn to his collar.
If he was a Warbler, surely Kurt could trust him?
Kurt turned a little so he was directly facing Cordell. He observed everything about him, the way he sat up straight and didn't slouch, the way his head was high, and the permanent look of royalty plastered to his face. He watched the way Cordell's eyes looked about him, taking in his own stature.
"I board in Jefferson." Cordell said, breaking the silence, but not his gaze with Kurt's eyes. He gestured to the yellow prefect badge, "Junior Prefect." He smirked slightly.
Kurt simply nodded a reply, too afraid to speak words that could just come out as a rushed slur of noise.
"You should stop by Jefferson some time, I'd be more than happy to—"
He was cut off as a voice some distance away called out.
"Kurt?" Blaine's voice shouted through the courtyard. Kurt slowly looked around, peering through the vines. Cordell sat bolt upright, still and frozen, nostrils flared in a way that was hard to ignore. He stood to leave, and Kurt looked at him in a puzzled and innocent way.
"I should probably go-"
The vine-like branches parted for the third time that day and Blaine's figure appeared in the gap. His face looked worried, but upon seeing Cordell, it turned to something entirely different.
"Cordell", he bared his teeth, pronouncing the name with distaste, almost as if it had to be drawn out of him, and Kurt could sense that he and Cordell did not get along. "What are you doing here?" He forced a smile, looking from Cordell to Kurt, who still sat on the bench, hands on his knees in a self-conscious manner.
Blaine looked down at Kurt, who offered him a small smile before looking to the floor. As Kurt looked away, Blaine looked back to Cordell, who was smirking at him, a look that made him absolutely despicable in Blaine's eyes.
"Well, see you around, Kurt." Cordell said to Kurt, however he didn't break his stare with Blaine. His grey eyes burned into Blaine's hazel gaze as they squared each other up. "Take care of yourself, Blaine." The way he addressed Blaine, the way he even used his name made Blaine ache with loathing.
With that, Cordell parted the branches and left the shadows of the tree.
Kurt dared not speak, still fearing the unimaginable rush of words that he would produce if he opened his mouth. Blaine sat in the empty space that Cordell had left behind, turning to face Kurt and reaching a hand forward for a split second, before catching himself and moving it up to scratch his neck, a move that went un-noticed by Kurt.
"Um, K-Kurt..?" Blaine stammered a little as he spoke, "Don't get too close to that guy, okay?"
Puzzled, Kurt nodded.
"Promise me Kurt."
The slightest hint of desperation in Blaine's voice told Kurt that this was of the utmost importance, and so he made the effort to look away from the floor and into his friend's eyes.
"I promise."
Simultaneously, they stood up, Blaine parting the branches to allow Kurt to pass through first. As he and Blaine ambled back side-by-side, Kurt couldn't help but wonder why Blaine wanted—or maybe needed—him to keep away from Cordell.
He wasn't really sure if he wanted to find out.
Cordell strolled away from the courtyard, a scowl on his face. As he reached the fountain, another student approached him.
"Losing your dare, hey Cord?" The student's voice taunted him, a smug grin that matched the tone. He had a narrow face and jet black hair that was combed neatly. His brown eyes showed no warmth in them, but he spoke with confidence.
"Leave it Oscar, I'm not in the mood." Cordell snarled, charging past the student, who simply held up his hands in mock surrender.
"Hey, hey, don't blame me. I'm not the one who's losing their dare here, am I? And you know what's gonna happen if you lose, Cord..."
Something snapped in Cordell's mind, and he turned on his heels, pelted towards the student and slammed him up against the fountain. Several students nearby quickly scampered upon seeing the scene.
"Don't fucking push me, Oscar." He yelled.
"Don't lose your bet then."
Cordell dropped Oscar and sighed. The other boy watched the look of pure hatred on Cordell's face and, satisfied, he left him standing by the fountain.
When Kurt and Blaine arrived back at the Washington Dorms, all hell had broken loose. The Seniors were running around commandeering all the younger students, and everyone seemed to be desperately trying to clean up. Kurt hadn't realised how messy Washington actually was until it was all being carried to various hiding places.
"What's happening?" Blaine shouted to Wes over the din, who was hastily stuffing party streamers and silly-string from God-only-knew-where into a cupboard in the commons.
David appeared from out of the cupboard itself, his arms laden with expensive looking ornaments that must have been put there to keep them from harm. As he tried as carefully as he could to navigate his way around the group of students that were sweeping away empty RedVines packets in vain—each time one was thrown away, another three were discovered elsewhere—a delicate looking model of a deer fell from the pile, and it was an almost slow-motion moment as Kurt watched it fall to the floor. In the last second, a hand shot out to catch it, and Avery straightened up, holding the ceramic animal in his cupped hands and grinning lopsidedly. "Malkin's coming to visit Kurt." He stated, as if it was common knowledge, and it was foolish of the pair to not realise. Kurt looked around, all of this was for him? Oh, no; it was keeping everyone out of trouble.
A disgruntled Jay complained loudly from under a table, where he was picking up discarded takeaway coffee cups. "Do you really believe this'll be clean by the time he gets here?" He cursed as he hit his head against the wood with a thud and a scowl.
Avery smiled, rolling the deer between his hands. "We have nothing, if not belief."
"Aristotle?" Kurt asked Blaine quietly.
Blaine shook his head as he rolled up his blazer sleeves. "Narnia." As Kurt made to follow him and lend a hand, he stopped him abruptly. "Go and stand in the entrance door." His voice was low and strong and demanding. "When you see Malkin, try and keep him outside the dorm for as long as possible. I'll come and get you when it's all clear. Okay?"
Blinking, Kurt nodded and ran to the entrance door, just in time to see Malkin walking across the stone-pavings, carrying a large birdcage that Kurt was sure he had seen in the headmaster's office that morning, trailing another professor behind him. His headmaster was old, balding and walked with a slight limp, but he was tall and he kept his shoulders back in an authoritive manner.
The second professor was younger than Malkin, and more clean cut—his blonde hair curled in tiny rings and his green eyes took in everything around him, including Kurt's delicate figure where he stood just in front of the entrance door, closed tightly behind him. As Malkin and the second professor approached, Kurt tried to think of ways to stop them from entering without raising suspicion.
"Professors!" Kurt smiled as Malkin walked up the two or three stone steps that led up to the main doors. Malkin beamed back at him, and Kurt could now see that the large golden cage he carried so carefully held a canary inside. The bird seemed completely unphased.
"Porcelain!" Malkin boomed in reply, and Kurt was glad to hear that his pet-name hadn't been replaced or forgotten. The other professor stood a step or two behind him, and raised an eyebrow at the name Malkin had awarded to Kurt.
"I would like you to meet Professor Hart." Malkin gestured to the professor, who stood forward. Kurt held out a hand, and Hart shook it tightly. "Professor Hart, this is Kurt Hummel, your newest ward-"
Hart flashed a grin at Kurt, and the Junior felt that they were going to get along nicely.
"-Professor Hart is Head of Washington House. He's your go-to guy if you ever need anything."
Hart smiled at Kurt, a reassuring smile, and Kurt would have politely invited him in, if it hadn't been for the chaos behind the door that he guarded.
"Professors?", he began with a sigh, "Could you please-" He only had one plan to buy the Washingtons some more time. "-Could you please tell me a few facts about Dalton? My dad, he's a bit of a history nerd-" A lie, of course, the only interest Burt had ever shown in history was when the Discovery Channel had aired a series about Hitler's rise to power, and he had thrown peanuts at the television screen over his frustration of losing the remote. "-so I thought—"
Hart cut him off. "Certainly m' boy! You see, Dalton was founded in 1852-"
Kurt was taken aback by the sheer volume of knowledge that was pouring out of his new professor's mouth, and even Malkin took a second to stop and observe his co-worker with wonder. As Hart rambled on about the 'difficult construction work' that had gone into the Dalton building, Kurt looked down at the birdcage Malkin had in his right hand. The little canary was washing itself in it's water-bowl, however it stopped for a moment to peer up at Kurt. The pair watched each other silently, the canary never breaking it's gaze, while Kurt had to glance up at his professors every so often to convince them that he was listening.
"-and Hairy Hank, he's said to still roam the Western parts of the campus, when the full moon hits the treetops just right-"
Blaine suddenly appeared behind Kurt, placing his hands lightly on his shoulders, making Kurt jump a little. The canary went wild in the cage, fluttering around and chirping as if there was no tomorrow—or a large cat was about to eat him, either way, he went crazy.
Malkin looked at the bird in amazement. "That's the most he's moved all day." He laughed, as his companion stopped spurting facts beside him.
"Anderson", Hart smiled. "How's your father? I haven't seen him for a while.."
Blaine shifted uncomfortably, releasing Kurt's shoulders and rubbing a palm across the back of his own neck. "He's good, thank you, Professor."
Hart nodded, eyes flitting over the boy in a silent way that took in every aspect of his body language.
"Please, come in, Professors." Blaine gestured for Malkin and Hart to go inside, and they walked past and into the dorms, the canary still fluttering around his cage as the professors disappeared into the now immaculate hallway.
"What did you do to hold them off?" Blaine grinned, nudging into Kurt a little, poking at his ribs with his elbow.
Kurt smiled, literally feeling the dimples in his cheeks and loathing them. "Asked for some Dalton trivia and Hart just would-not-stop." He said the last three words through gritted teeth, exaggerating the fact to Blaine, who laughed.
"Come on, they are here for you, after-all." Blaine said, taking Kurt by the arm and pulling him through the freshly cleaned Washington corridors. They reached the commons, which was now so full of students that they could only stand by the door.
"Quiet please, boys, quiet!" Professor Hart stood by the large windows, the panes of glass stretching from ceiling to floor, waving his arms around as he called his students to attention, Malkin stood sternly behind him. Every boy fell silent, although there was an awful lot of fidgeting. Each sofa was crammed with as many Washingtons that would fit as possible, and every table had at least five or six chairs squeezed around it. It was the most students Kurt had seen in one place since he'd first visited Dalton, when Blaine had sung Teenage Dream and knocked the wind right out of him.
Kurt and Blaine stood in the doorway, both unable and unwilling to enter the room any further.
Professor Malkin stepped forward, shooting a quick smile at Hart before his face turned stern again. "Thank you, Professor Hart. Right boys, we'd just like to welcome Kurt Hummel to the Warblers-"
Every student in the room quickly looked around for Kurt, and soon every pair of eyes was focused on his figure in the doorway. Kurt blushed, and as if that wasn't enough, Blaine's hand brushed past his as he nudged him, smiling. The small skin-to-skin contact gave him goosebumps, as skin-to-skin contact usually did. Unless it was Finn, because Finn's hands were greasier than Burt's tire shop.
"-and to welcome you to the Warblers, young Kurt." Malkin continued, this time offering a friendly smile to Kurt. "Our oldest tradition for our newest Warbler." He snapped his fingers at Wes. "Montgomery, a hand?"
Wes nodded, standing up from his seat at one of the coffee tables closest to the window, and Malkin handed him the birdcage. The little yellow bird hopped up to his perch and looked around the room, before settling his black eyes on Kurt.
"Hummel, join me at the front please." Malkin said, his voice booming off the walls in a way that gave him the authority needed.
Blaine pushed Kurt into the fray and all the students were suddenly parting to let him through. He felt pats on his back—somebody even tried to ruffle his hair, but he slapped their hand away. Nobody touches Kurt Hummel's hair.
He finally approached Malkin—but not before tripping over Avery's foot, to the amusement of Blaine, who Kurt could see grinning by the door—and the headmaster smiled at him.
"Wes, if you would?" Malkin said to Wes, who stepped forward and handed Kurt the birdcage.
Kurt was confused at first, but took the cage in his hands, supporting the base with his left and holding the handle at the top with his right. The bird inside fluttered down to the bars and peered at Kurt. After a few seconds, he started chirping happily. Malkin smiled.
"Kurt, meet Pavarotti. It's your job to take care of him." Wes explained, and Kurt smiled down at the bird. He'd never had a pet before, not so much as a fish, so this would be interesting to say the least.
Malkin and Hart promptly left, leaving Kurt standing at the front of the large group of Washingtons. They all watched him for a second, before the bell rang out for third lesson and they all scrambled to their lessons.
Blaine appeared from nowhere, shooing some of the slower students off to their lessons before they received lates.
"I've got Modern Earth History now, so um.." He started to rummage through his pocket, pulling out a set of keys and handing them to Kurt, who held Pavarotti's cage firmly in both hands. With a sigh and exasperated laugh, Blaine placed the ring that attached the keys to each other between Kurt's teeth, and the taller boy took them and held on tight, keen not to drop them.
"Right, use the large key to get into 14—my room-" Blaine explained, smirking a little at the sight of Kurt. "Then use the smaller key to open the third drawer in my desk." He picked up his bag from one of the coffee tables, where he must have left it whilst tidying, and continued to explain, however not mentioning the third key on the loop, which appeared newer than the others. "There should be bird-food and a few books in there. Take what you want, okay?" With a smile and a gentle pat on Kurt's shoulder, he chuckled deeply, a sound that filled Kurt with great amusement.
If there wasn't a set of keys in his mouth, Kurt would have asked why Blaine had a key to his desk drawer, and also what the mystery third key was for, but as Blaine hurried off to his lesson, he was left with only the horrid tang of metal on his lips.
Pavarotti sang contentedly from where his cage sat on Blaine's bedside table. A short distance away, Kurt was rummaging through Blaine's third desk drawer. He'd already pulled out a thick book about caring for canaries and a packet of specially formulated bird food, which were now placed on Blaine's bed. He wasn't even going to ask why Blaine had all of this.
Blaine's room was darker than Kurt's, a bookcase in the corner crammed full of books about mechanics and football and then various fashion magazines, then more books, cooking and animals and mathematics. Blaine was definitely a book-reader—the whole bottom two shelves were full of fantasy novels. And to top it all off, Blaine had Harry Potter sheets. The faces of Harry, Hermione and Ron stretched the entire length of his single bed, and Kurt had found it hilarious upon discovery.
As he pulled out various leaflets and informational books about canaries, Pavarotti watched him silently. Kurt realised that the only things left in the drawer now were RedVines packets, and he suddenly understood why Blaine kept his drawer locked—the Washingtons were crazy for RedVines.
The mound of canary related items that Kurt had managed to pile onto Blaine's bed was impressive, to say the least. Blaine had either a rather large and worrying obsession, or previous ownership of a canary such as Pavarotti. Kurt decided to go with the latter.
He opened the packet of prestigious-looking birdfeed and poured some into the bird's bowl, gingerly keeping the metal door closed over his arm, wary of a sudden flight on behalf of the bird. However, Pavarotti watched quietly, not even slightly phased at Kurt's sudden movements. Oddly proud of himself, Kurt reached his index finger towards Pavarotti's head, praying to whoever was up there that the bird didn't take a chunk out of his finger, because that would make moisturising a painful affair.
To his surprise, the canary hopped closer to the boy's finger and even rubbed his own beak against it, Kurt's heart momentarily skipping a beat. He smiled, as the bird seemed to enjoy being petted—even handled—and Kurt held his palm out flat, allowing Pavarotti to willingly step onto it.
It had taken Kurt only twenty minutes to compile a library's worth of information about canaries in the heap on Blaine's Harry Potter sheets, which meant that there were still forty minutes left until anyone would return from lessons, leaving him no choice but to carry the books across the hall and into his own dorm. It took him about three visits to carry the cage and endless amount of books and bird food across the corridor, and he was almost glad that he was alone, so that he wasn't spotted struggling under the weight of a couple of books.
The books and packets of bird-seed were unceremoniously dumped in a heap on Kurt's own bed this time, however he found his sheets to be much less amusing, the stripes seeming bland despite their regal colours. Pavarotti's cage was placed gently on the side table that sat next to Kurt's bed.
Kurt took the largest book—a thick volume entitled 'Canaries for Dummies'—and sat at the table in the corner. Settling back in the chair, he opened it, and started to read.
At least half an hour later, Kurt realised that he hadn't paid any attention to the last three pages of words, and had only been mindlessly flicking. Yawning, he let the book fall onto the table with a soft thud, standing to stretch and peer out of the window. Lessons still weren't over, and there was no sign of anybody else across the campus.
Reaching down to pet Pavarotti, he took his Marc Jacobs jacket—which had been carefully hung up in his wardrobe—and headed out of his room, ensuring the key was safely in the pocket of his jeans before closing the door behind him.
It didn't take long at all to leave the Washington building altogether and to be out in the fresh air, the open sky stretching for miles above him. He wandered around on the stone pavings for a bit, deciding to head back to the courtyard. It wasn't until he reached the bench under the cover of the vines that it hit him; this would be the first significant alone-time he had had all morning. He nestled into the spot he had sat in just an hour ago, and this time closed his eyes to listen to the sounds of Dalton. There were birds playing in the tree above him, the gushing sound of the fountain could be heard faintly, and if he listened very carefully, he could just pick up the sounds of a professor scolding his class for one thing or another.
"Bambi, there you are."
Kurt's mouth opened to question how his new nickname had spread so quickly, but he was cut off before he even had a chance to form an argument. Jay stood in front of him, sort of hovering over the bench in a way that blocked the few rays of sun that managed to filter their way through the vines. He was dressed now, although not in his uniform. Instead, he wore a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt for a band whose name Kurt couldn't place. He smiled at the boy, who grinned a little in return.
Jay took a seat in the space next to Kurt and stretched out in an overly relaxed way. "So I see you've made friends with our young Avery?" His voice faltered a little. "He's, uh, well he's something alright." A nervous chuckle and a refusal to meet his inquisitive gaze told Kurt that Jay was touching on a sensitive topic.
"He seems a little different." Kurt smiled, and Jay nodded. "Is he always like that?"
Jay nodded again. "He hasn't had it so good."
Kurt didn't even attempt to prise more information out of Jay. Instead he blinked up at the sun as it peered through the hanging branches, already taking an instant liking to Dalton.
"A new-born calf fears not the tiger, Blaine." David said, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms in a matter-of-fact way, Wes mimicking his actions next to him.
Blaine pulled a face. "Are you saying that Kurt is a baby cow?" He'd spent the last ten minutes being hounded by Wes and David and their un-subtle attempts to show caring emotions towards him. They had warned him to keep an eye on Kurt, and Blaine had raised his eyebrows and asked why. After that point, he had only received vague phrases and quotes that could only be the by-product of Avery's extensive reading and diary entries. Besides, if anything, Kurt was a deer, which was probably why people were naming him 'Bambi".
'If Kurt's the baby cow, then who's the tiger?" Wes hinted, and it was David's turn to copy his actions, as they both nodded. Blaine shrugged, exasperated and really not in the mood for Wes and David's whimsical jokes.
"I'm leaving." Blaine stated, close to losing his temper. He strode away from the pair, shaking his head and cursing them under his breath. His dark eyes narrowed as he scowled at nothing, eager to get away from the two before they caused him some serious heart troubles. Before he disappeared around the corner, he turned back. "And stop reading Avery's diary!"
The rest of Kurt's day went by in a blur of coffee and loud Washingtons appearing between their lessons. He couldn't escape the chaos of the commons until well-past ten, as Wes and David were informing him on the runnings of Dalton, none of which he took in.
Eventually he crawled up to his dorm, said goodnight to Avery and Blaine, and fell into bed, however he did not close his eyes, but rather, let them adjust to the darkness. Soon he could just make out the features of his room again, the windowsill, the shadow of his dresser and the patterns of the mural on the wall. He had left the miniature curtain that hung either side of his window open too, and he could see the stars perfectly from where he lay. They twinkled at him as he looked up at them through the window. Something on his windowsill caught his eye, however, and he sat up straight again, flicking on his bedside lamp to see what it was.
Whoever it was that had resided in this room before him must have been a very good friend of Avery's; written across the windowsill was another quote, a bit like the one that accompanied the mural, however this time, nothing to do with birds.
It is not in the stars to hold our destinies, but in ourselves.
With a smile, Kurt leant back, turned off his light and settled back down in his bed.
He was definitely going to like it here.