The first time Kurt saw Blaine Anderson, he knew to look away immediately. He had learned, over the course of middle school and three years of high school, that most guys didn't take too kindly to him looking at them for too long, and a single glance at the new transfer student told Kurt that this wasn't the guy to test that theory on.
He was in the courtyard with Rachel and Mercedes when he saw him that first time, striding down the steps in big black combat boots, and then taking a moment to slide down the rail with ease, wind ruffling careless dark curls, arms spread wide for balance, showing off his leather jacket. The people lower on the school food chain seemed to know immediately to duck out of his way as he slid.
That was all Kurt allowed himself before he glanced away from this clearly dangerous individual, but Rachel and Mercedes continued to gawk. Rachel described, wide-eyed and not without a little desire in her voice, as Blaine Anderson lit up a cigarette, everyone giving him a wide berth except Quinn, who had undergone some sort of mental break down over the summer and now dyed her hair pink out of the bottle. Rachel immediately wondered if Quinn and Blaine were an item, and Kurt couldn't help but snort at the jealous tone her voice took. Mercedes, unlike Rachel, was none too impressed with the bad boy image, and informed them immediately that Blaine was gay, and that he had transferred from a reform school. Mercedes always had the best gossip.
The second time Kurt saw Blaine was when the bell rang, signalling the end of the lunch period. He looked over his shoulder as he left the courtyard, wanting to make sure he wasn't late for class. Blaine was loitering, naturally. He had a zippo lighter, and he scowled down at it, his thick, dark eyebrows drawn together angrily. His thumb, nail painted black, flicked the lighter open and closed in a steady rhythm.
Kurt just sighed and shouldered his satchel, mentally adding Blaine Anderson to the list of people he would try to avoid on a daily basis.
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The first time Blaine saw Kurt Hummel actually occurred before Kurt saw him. It was that same, day, early in the morning. Blaine's first day at his new school. People were already avoiding him like the plague, which was fine by him. He was sure the rumors about Dalton Reform School had already spread. It didn't matter; people could believe the worst about him for all he cared, because he knew the truth, and knew he never should have been in that dump in the first place.
When he first saw Kurt, he was walking with a pretty girl in some go-go girl outfit. They chatted animatedly as they arrived at a locker, and Blaine actually paused at his own to get a better look at the guy down the hall.
Since he didn't know his name, he dubbed him Tight Pants in his head for the time being, in honor of the painted on dark red pants he was currently sporting. Blaine smirked and bit his lip, letting himself enjoy the view he had a the moment: the material lovingly hugging long, lean legs and curving nicely over a firm ass just begging for Blaine to cop a feel.
Be good, Blaine told himself sternly. Something told him Tight Pants, who was currently bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly, wouldn't appreciate the gesture.
Tight Pants turned around and leaned back against the locker, smiling and listening to his friend. His face was, no other way to describe it, beautiful. There was a sweetness, an angelic quality to his expression that made Blaine doubt Tight Pants knew what the leather harness he was wearing was actually for and then feel kind of bad for perving on him so much.
Blaine had checked out more than a few guys in his time, and this time was really no different, except that in a few seconds' time, Tight Pants' friend had left him alone at his locker, and a big guy in a letterman's jacket walked past him.
Blaine's eyes narrowed at how Tight Pants flinched, eyes closing as if braced for a blow. The jock didn't pay any attention to him, but Blaine was all too familiar with that rapid loss of color, that look of panic.
Something seemed to deflate in Tight Pants, and he closed his locker with a visible sigh, his eyes dropping to the floor.
Blaine was struck by how violently he never wanted to see that expression on his face again.