Blaine didn't know anyone in his art class, he realized as he sat down. This was unusual because Blaine knew people everywhere. He wasn't popular in the High School definition of the word, but he knew a lot of people, and people liked him. It was almost unnerving to walk into a room and not have someone look up and smile, or wave, or call him over to their seat, even if it was only his first class of the year.

He looked around at the other boys in the classroom. They already had their own groups of friends and were talking amongst themselves. It was a small class – art was never going to be the most popular subject at an all boys boarding school – but that didn't really make Blaine feel any better.

And that's when he noticed Weird Kid. Blaine gave him the nickname almost immediately - Weird Kid walked into the room with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes flickering across a crumpled piece of paper and his mouth working furiously, silently over the words. The fingers on his left hand tapped against the strap of his bag, and he froze three times, each for about three seconds, before finally finding his way to a free table.

Weird Kid didn't look strange, just a typical sandy-haired boy in St Peter's uniform, but there was something awkward about the way he moved; something intriguing about the way he got up and changed desks when an innocent, and quite confused, intruder took the seat next to him; something fascinating about the way he zoned completely out of the classroom and into his own little world, not even blinking as someone's paper plane stopped en-route on his desk.

The desk arrangement, almost in a semicircle around a table of subject matter, meant that Blaine had a perfect view of Weird Kid, who had pulled out a comic book and started reading. No one read comic books anymore, not in high school, anyway. Blaine continued to watch as Weird Kid got sucked into the book, smirking at a page before turning it, and then slacking his jaw, stunned when whatever happened next was, possibly, not what he had been expecting.

Blaine smiled to himself, making a conscious decision right then to be interested in Weird Kid. Maybe it was partially out of vanity – Weird Kid was definitely better looking than anyone else in the class. Perhaps, if he hadn't been pretty, Blaine wouldn't have looked twice. But while it was Weird Kid's good looks that had caught Blaine's attention, it was his unusual quirks that held it over the following weeks.

Blaine never spoke to him. He never had the chance. He never saw him outside of art class, not even in the hallways or during lunch. And most days no one else seemed to notice him. It was like he just appeared out of thin air to draw, and then when he was done, vanished. He read his comic books, or sometimes novels, every day before Mrs Stuart, the art teacher, arrived. Then he would be the first to retrieve his scrap paper and get settled into his work.

Blaine never saw any of his drawings, but if they were as expressive as his face was while he drew them, they must have been masterpieces.

The art lessons were boring. They drew the Same vases, the Same shells, every day for the following six weeks. The capsicums were changed for obvious reasons, but they still looked the Same to Blaine. It definitely wasn't the art that brought him back every day.

He looked over at Weird Kid (he still didn't know his name), six weeks after their first class together, as the epiphany dawned on him.

He totally had a crush.

"-he's really weird."

Blaine stopped dead where he stood at the rubbish bin with his half peeled mandarin and cast a casual (or what he thought was casual) glance at the person who had spoken. Conner from the track team sat a few meters away with a big, dark student Blaine didn't know, some neglected textbooks and their lunch spread out across the table.

"Creepy, more like," the big boy said. "Have you seen the way he skulks around? Taking weird routes to classes and eating his lunch in empty classrooms."

"And he always carries that bag around with him, with books-"

"Comic books-"

"- and cartoon porn, probably." Conner laughed nastily. "And then he has all those badges on his bag – Star Wars characters and Harry Potter quotes -"

"- and Doctor Who."

"What's Doctor Who?" Conner looked confused, but the big guy just shrugged and opened a packet of chips.

"some science fiction show for kids?" he suggested as though he wasn't entirely sure.

"Oh," said Conner. "Lame."

Blaine's stomach was full of butterflies. They were talking about Weird Kid, there was no doubt. It was almost a relief to know Weird Kid existed outside of Blaine's daydreams – that he wasn't just some hallucination Blaine had every day in Art.

And then it hit him – they were insulting Weird Kid. Sure, Weird Kid was weird, and Blaine joked about it sometimes, but at least he kept it all inside his own head. How dare they? he thought. As if they knew anything about him. But he knew about as much as they did. For all he knew, Weird Kid was just some creepy guy who carried around porn all day.

Maybe this was Blaine's chance to get to know him a little better.

"Hey," Blaine said, tossing the whole mandarin into the trash and looking at Conner. "That guy you were talking about-"

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Sam." So his name was Sam? "I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find him?"

Conner looked at his friend and then back at Blaine. "I just had Spanish with him," he said, shrugging. "He usually stays behind to eat lunch there." Conner made a face. "Can't see why you'd want him, though."

"He missed a class," said Blaine, thinking fast. "I'm supposed to give him the notes."

"He's always skiving," the big guy interrupted. "Never in a class three days in a row. But he never fails anything." He looked confused. "Jay was talking about getting him to help out with his Calculus homework."

Conner laughed. "Good luck, man. That guy never talks to anyone, let alone helps them."

"I should go," Blaine muttered, turning to leave.

"See you in Biology," said Conner. "If Sam turns you into a toad or a newt or something, we can ask Mr. T for the antidote."

Conner was trying to be funny. Blaine tried to laugh. He had never realized what poor taste Conner had before "Bye!" he said with fake enthusiasm as Conner and friend returned to their lunch.

Blaine knew where Conner's Spanish class was because someone had invited him to the 'Pinata Party' the first year Spanish students held at the start of every year. Conner had accidentally hit Blaine instead of the pinata he was aiming for, and they had ended up in the nurse's office together with pocketfuls of candy. They weren't good friends, exactly, but they had gotten along well after that.

The door was closed when Blaine got there, but if he stood on his toes he could peer through the glass window, murky with sellotape marks. Weird Kid – Sam, Blaine corrected himself quickly – was sitting at a desk at the front of the class with a notebook and an apple, scribbling away furiously at the pages. Blaine watched for a minute, curious. Was this why he did so well in school without attending half the classes, because he spent his lunch hours studying?

Quietly, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Sam didn't even look up. Blaine cleared his throat loudly, to no avail.

"Hey," he said, coming to stand in front of Sam and tapping the desk with his fingers, inches away from Sam's hand. Sam looked up at him slowly, his expression absent, before his eyebrows pinched in confusion. This expression sent the butterflies in Blaine's chest into a frenzy, but he refrained from breaking out into an embarrassing grin.

"I'm Blaine." Blaine stretched out a hand over the desk and smiled politely. Sam just glanced at it suspiciously, and then looked back at Blaine.

"I know who you are," he said quietly, making Blaine's heart skip a beat. Not only was this the first time he had ever heard Weird Kid speak, but he knew who Blaine was. Blaine swallowed.

"You do?" he asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow and withdrawing his hand, leaning back against the teacher's desk behind him.

"Well yeah," said Sam. "You're the worst artist in our class."

"Ouch." Blaine cringed, but it didn't actually bother him, and he couldn't exactly deny it. "I've never seen your drawings, but you look so alive when you draw... I bet they're pretty good."

"You watch me draw?" said Sam, incredulous. "That's kind of creepy."

Blaine tried to take it with a grain of salt; "You're a good looking guy," he teased with half a shrug. He definitely wasn't flirting, he told himself. Straight guys joked like that all the time.

Sam narrowed his eyes and put down his pen. "Why are you here?" he asked.

If that isn't the million dollar question, Blaine wondered. Why was he here? He knew why, but he wasn't entirely sure how to put it into words without sounding creepier than he had already made himself out to be.

"I heard some guys talking about how you always eat alone," he said eventually, deciding honesty was the best policy. At least, he supposed it could be at times like this when his imagination failed him. "I thought you might want some company."

Sam pursed his lips and his eyes narrowed further. Of course Sam was suspicious. Blaine was acting downright weird – even he himself knew it. But there was no normal way to introduce himself to a guy like Sam. It didn't matter how long Blaine waited, Sam was never going to turn up coincidentally at a party Blaine had been invited to; they were never going to magically wind up in detention together; Mrs Stuart would never tell Sam to move to the empty seat next to Blaine to be closer to the subject matter; and, as much as Blaine fantasized, there would never a zombie apocalypse that would trap them both together, alone, in art class.

"I'm not here to, er, steal your Doctor Who badges or anything," he added tentatively, "if that's what you're afraid of."

"You watch Doctor Who?" said Sam suddenly, looking at him in what Blaine thought a writer might describe as 'a different light'. Blaine's heart sunk.

"Well," he said, searching for some tact, "I've heard of it."

The light in Sam's eyes died, and Blaine wanted to say 'Kidding! Of course I've seen it," but definitely didn't know enough about science fiction to lie his way through that one. Instead, he added, "I might have seen it when I was younger. It's a kid's scifi show, right?"

Sam looked at him as though he were an idiot, rolled his eyes and shut his book.

"Hey," said Blaine as Sam stood up. "Where are you going?" Sam ignored him as he tucked his work under his arm and picked up his apple.

Panicking as Sam made his way to the door, Blaine blurted, "I didn't mean to offend you! Really. Why don't you tell me what it's about?"

Sam looked back at him incredulously, searching his face with those Same suspicious eyes. He seemed to be studying Blaine, as though he wasn't entirely sure whether to believe him or not.

"Okay," he said at last.

"Great," said Blaine, relieved. "So, is it about knock-knock jokes, or?"

Doctor Who is confusing, Blaine thought, twenty minutes later. In the end, Sam hadn't needed all that much encouragement – he jumped into the subject enthusiastically, talking about telephone boxes and Time Lords and incarnation and time travel. Blaine smiled and nodded at all the right moments, but found more enjoyment in watching Sam's animated expressions as he made sketches in his book to help illustrate his points than in what he was actually saying.

"Won't you get in trouble for drawing in your Spanish book?" Blaine asked as Sam started a new page.

"This isn't my Spanish book."

"Then what were you doing when I came in?"

Sam flicked back to the front of the exorcise book and spun it around for Blaine to see. The page was crammed with writing, but it wasn't in any language Blaine recognized. It definitely wasn't in Spanish.

"That's not in English." Blaine stated the obvious.

"Quenya," said Sam matter-of-factly. "It's one of Tolkein's Elvish languages. I can almost write it fluently."

"Oh," was all Blaine could think of to say. He was impressed. And it didn't surprise him at all that his Weird Kid was that into Lord of the Rings. He looked down at the curved, elegant handwriting and wondered how long it had taken Sam to master.

"I write my diary in it, so no one can read it," said Sam, and then hesitated. "But I probably shouldn't be telling you that."

"Don't worry," said Blaine, intrigued by the idea of Sam owning a diary. "I definitely don't have any plans on learning Elvish, so you're safe." And then, as an afterthought, "That's really impressive though."

"Thanks," said Sam. And then there was that awkward moment when a conversation ends and no one knows what to say next.

Blaine cleared his throat. "So, you're Sam, right?" he asked, realizing Sam hadn't introduced himself yet.

Sam's lips quirked slightly. "Sam I am," he said.

"But you do not like Green Eggs and Ham?"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "You're kind of cool," he admitted.

"So are you," said Blaine instantly. Sam just gave him a strange look as the bell rang. "What class do you have now?"

"Biology," said Sam as he put his books into his bag and they headed for the door.

"Great, me too," said Blaine enthusiastically. "We're in different classes, but we should be in the same block."

Sam smiled, but headed in the opposite direction when they reached the corridor.

"Where are you going?"

"The art class," Sam explained over his shoulder. "We're moving on to pumpkins next week, and I want to be sure I've mastered capsicum first." He smiled at Blaine, who's heart had sunk, before turning back and leaving.

If I didn't have a crush before, Blaine realized, slightly giddy as he entered his Biology class, I definitely do now.

"Sam?" asked Paul as Blaine flopped himself down on his bed and kicked off his shoes. "Never heard of him. What house is he in?"

Paul was Blaine's roommate and the youngest student on the school's swim team, and probably one of the reasons Blaine had so many friends. Paul – tall, well built, with curly brown hair and a tan that every other student secretly envied - made Blaine look unpopular in comparison. But thanks to their friendship their social circles overlapped, which Blaine's social status benefited from immensely.

"Um," said Blaine, staring at the ceiling. "You know what, I don't actually have a clue."

"Last name?"

"Dunno."

"Seriously? Isn't he in your art class? Why don't you just listen more closely next time the teacher reaches his name in the attendance list if you're that interested?"

"Because," said Blaine sulkily, rolling over onto his side and watching Paul bring up MSN on his desktop, "Mrs Stuart believes we 'can't possibly work unless there is absolute silence'. Even dropping a pencil could get you sent from the room. She just memorizes our faces and checks us off herself."

"Damn. Sucks to be you," said Paul as his task bar suddenly flashed orange with half a dozen conversations. He clicked one and started typing. "Well, I'm sorry to say I don't know anything about him. Why do you want to be his friend so badly?"

Blaine licked his lips, almost nervously, glad that Paul couldn't see his expression. "He's just so different," he admitted. "It's kind of refreshing. I'd like to hang out with someone like him more often."

"Getting bored of Marcus?"

Blaine didn't exactly have a best friend here at St Peters. Lots of people considered him their best friend, but there wasn't anyone in particular that Blaine really connected with. There was no one at the school he could tell all his secrets to – there wasn't a single person who knew he was gay.

It was just common assumption that Marcus Hunt was Blaine's best friend. Marcus and Blaine got along great – they had a lot in common, they hung out a lot, they even knew each other out of school. But Blaine could never be completely honest with Marcus. Marcus had been Blaine's first crush, but Blaine had never told him. Marcus was as opposed to homosexuality as Blaine was to liquorice, and Blaine hated liquorice with a passion.

Blaine shrugged. "Marcus is cool," he said. "Amanda is just so demanding – he spends his weekends with her, and most of his free time after lessons."

Paul shook his head, and Blaine could hear the smile in his voice. "I still don't understand why you don't have a girlfriend yet," he said. "If I have a party in the holidays, come and I'll introduce you to one of my cousins." Paul swiveled round on his chair and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I mean, if they're related to me, they must be babes."

Blaine laughed and said he'd be there, silently hoping something else would come up and he wouldn't have to go. He rolled over and grabbed his laptop as Paul got sucked into a conversation with his ex-girlfriend, his typing loud and irritating. Blaine was definitely going to get him a keyboard with rubber keys for his birthday.

Ten minutes later Paul stopped typing and started searching his very untidy desk for his phone.

"Looks like I have a date tonight!" he told Blaine as he shut down his computer. He grabbed his favorite jacket from the wardrobe and cologne from his bedside table, and borrowed Blaine's comb to brush back his fringe. "If I'm not back by ten, you can lock the door, I'll just stay at Steph's."

Blaine, who had forgotten how many times he had suggested Paul get a new key made after losing his old one, just raised an eyebrow. "Have fun," he suggested with half a smile.

"Will do!"

Blaine stared at the door for a minute after Paul had left. Paul was always the first person Blaine talked to about his latest crushes. When Blaine had first met Daniel from the swim team he had begged Paul for his number. When he had crushed on Elijah, a boy from his English class, Paul had been subjected to recounts of all of the poetry Blaine had talked Elijah into sharing with him. It was a wonder Paul hadn't caught on to Blaine's sexuality. If he had, he was very good at hiding it.

Blaine saved and closed his homework as Paul left - he wasn't going to get any more done today - and brought up Facebook. He had a new friend request from someone he vaguely remembered meeting at a party last weekend, a few wall posts to reply to, a message from Marcus asking about a question in their Calculus homework, and various invites. He answered them almost mechanically before he was struck with the idea: surely Sam had a facebook?

It took him a while to find without Sam's last name, but eventually he found him by going through all the students at St Peter's with the same first name. "Sam Jones," he read aloud. There was a picture of him at what looked like a gaming convention, with his sandy, almost blond hair ruffled about his ears and his pale lips curved up in a crooked smile as he stared at the camera. Was he wearing a cloak?

Blaine smiled at the computer as he moved the cursor up to Add as Friend and clicked.

The reply was almost instant, and suddenly Blaine could see all the Friend's Only posts on Sam's page. The first thing that caught his eye was a Youtube video. The description said Another Song and Blaine thought it might be Sam in the thumbnail. Curiously, forgetting he had been about to log into facebook chat and say hello to his newest friend, he clicked to enlarge the video and pressed play.

The video was set in Sam's dorm room, which looked exactly like Blaine's, only with a Legolos poster and some sketches on the pinboard instead of Blaine's printed off lyric sheets. Sam was in his uniform, looking particularly handsome with his tie undone and his hair damp from a shower, and muttered something shyly to the camera as he picked up a guitar and slung it over his shoulder.

Sam could sing. He couldn't just sing – Sam could sing about as well as Blaine could sing. Blaine was a pretty modest guy, but he knew how talented he was with his voice. The fact that Sam's voice took his breath away meant he must be good. Without thinking, Blaine opened the video in youtube and saved it to his favorites. He would have to ask Sam later what the song was – he didn't recognize it.

Dear God, let him be gay, he pleaded as he watched the video again. But the chances were slim, he knew. And even if he was, there wasn't a single out gay student at St Peters. Even if he and Blaine were both gay and became best friends, they would probably never even tell each other.

Blaine stared at his computer without seeing it. One day, he told himself. One day I'll be the first person to come out at this sorry excuse for a boarding school. And maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

He logged out without talking to Sam. He didn't want to have to say he had seen Sam's video – he wasn't too sure he could talk about it right now without coming on a bit too heavy. He was just too excited about the idea, and it was definitely too soon to suggest they sang something together, which he now desperately wanted to do. Blaine would wait until they were better friends before bringing up their shared musical talents.

Blaine spent the rest of the evening watching The Lion King (something he wouldn't dare to do with Paul in the room), singing along to the songs and downloading a recent Doctor Who episode in the background.

He fell asleep eventually, around ten o'clock, with Sam's singing voice drifting strangely through his dreams about spaceships, time travel and a zombie apocalypse.

McDs 4 lunch?

The text came in from Marcus half way through their English lesson. Marcus was sitting right next to Blaine and could have just written the question on a piece of paper, but seemed to get some kind of kick out of using his phone in class.

Blaine rolled his eyes at him and nodded. Ten minutes later the bell rang.

"Thank god," Marcus moaned. "I don't think I could have sat in that room a minute longer. I swear Jordan never showers."

"Then why do you sit next to him?"

"In case you didn't notice, he always sits next to me." Marcus furrowed into his pockets for his car keys. "Fucking fag," he spat.

Blaine looked away, searching desperately for a new conversation starter. He knew for a fact Jordan wasn't gay because he used to date Paul's younger sister, much to Paul's disapproval, and really didn't want to have to listen to another uncomfortable homophobic rant from Marcus.

"Why are we going to McDonald's?" he asked as they reached the car. Marcus usually preferred the burger joint around the corner.

"There's this really hot girl who works there," Marcus admitted. "Blonde, nice nose, perfect smile... and she seems to like me."

Blaine blanched. "Marcus," Blaine grabbed him by the shoulder and looked at him seriously. "What about Amanda?"

Marcus pushed his dark, messy hair out of his eyes and avoided Blaine's gaze. "She cheated on me," he said after a beat.

"What?"

Marcus shrugged like it was nothing, but Blaine could see the hurt in his expression. "No big deal," he said. "She was a bit of a bitch anyway."

"It is a big deal," Blaine said quietly as Marcus continued to stare at the front wheel. They stood in silence for a moment, neither of them getting into the car.

"I lost my virginity to her."

Blaine drew a sharp breath. With all the parties and alcohol and late night pranks, he often forgot how young they were. Marcus especially – he was always the tough guy who solved all his problems by swearing at them. But they were fifteen. Blaine had never even considered that Marcus might have been sleeping with Amanda.

Marcus took a deep, steadying breath. His eyes were damp. He turned away/

Awkwardly, and almost certain that it was the wrong thing to do, Blaine stepped up to Marcus and put an arm around him, pulling him into a loose embrace, much to Marcus' obvious surprise.

"You'll find someone better," was all Blaine could think of to say.

"Dude, don't go all gay on me," Marcus teased quietly, but Blaine could feel Marcus wipe his eyes on the collar of Blaine's shirt. Blaine chuckled in his ear.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said softly, but his heart broke a little over the lie.

"Let's go meet that hot blonde," Blaine suggested a moment later as he stepped back, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. "How old is she?"

"University," muttered Marcus, fumbling with the car door, a little flushed around the neck. Inside, he turned to Blaine as Blaine got in and looked at him for the first time in the last minute.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Blaine offered him a small smile. "Don't mention it," he said.

Sam was already in art when Blaine arrived.

"Hi," Blaine said breathlessly, coming to stand next to him. Sam's eyes widened and he shook his head, giving Blaine a pointed look that Blaine didn't understand. Blaine returned the look with a confused one of his own, and dumped his stuff on the desk next to Sam.

"Don't sit there," said Sam sharply. Blaine stopped mid-motion, one hand on the stool.

"Why not?"

"Just don't," said Sam flatly, not looking at him as he laid his drawing out and arranged his pencils on his desk.

Blaine was momentarily stunned by the drawing. It didn't just look like a capsicum – it was the yellow capsicum sitting on the edge table in the middle on the room, rendered in absolutely perfect detail, right down to the tiny creases in the skin.

But he didn't compliment it. "Fine," he snapped when he found his voice again, offended and more than a little confused. He gathered up his equipment again and took it to his usual seat by the window.

He tried to focus on his drawing and not look up at Sam, but he just couldn't break the habit. Twice when he raised his eyes and looked to his left his eyes met Sam's. They both looked away quickly, but at other times Blaine was sure he could see Sam looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

What was his problem?

"Do you know what class Sam just had?"

Conner looked at him as though he were insane. "Er, no," he said. Blaine skirted Conner and continued down the corridor without replying. He tried to look casual as he peered into every classroom he passed, but Sam wasn't in any of them.

By the end of the school day he had all but given up on seeing Sam again that afternoon. He was just about to head back to his dorm and send him a message on facebook when something caught his eye through one of the windows.

There were three boys out and below on the grass, in a semicircle around a fourth who was pressed up against a tree. Blaine couldn't see who the other boys were, but the victim was unmistakably Sam.

Without thinking Blaine ran to the stairs, pushing past a senior in his hurry. He was on the second floor. Could he make it in time? He stopped for a second, out of breath and disorientated, as he stepped outside. And then his brain kicked him back into motion as it screamed, Left!

He sprinted around the corner and, sure enough, Sam still had his back against the tree. His head was held high and his lips were pursed, but there was unmistakable fear in his eyes.

"Get the hell away from him!" Blaine shouted, but stopped dead as the three figures turned around.

It was Marcus and two other boys Blaine sat with at lunch, Steven and Carter, who were a year above them. They all looked at Blaine in surprise. Sam shook his head quickly and subtly at Blaine, like he had in art, but he seemed to relax a little with Blaine's presence. For a moment Blaine was too shocked to do anything.

"You're not standing up for this fag?" Marcus asked incredulously.

"Sam's gay?" Blaine asked stupidly, realizing seconds too late that it was the worst possible thing to say – Sam's expression seemed to shatter into a million pieces.

"We've seen him eying up Mr. Stone," said Carter. "He blushes when they talk. We've been watching him."

"He is definitely a fagot," Steven said, sounding strangely proud of himself.

Blaine turned to Marcus. "I didn't know you did this for a hobby," he said coldly.

"Haven't you ever wondered why this school is so fag free?" Marcus scoffed. "I knew you'd get prissy about it. You used to get so shitty with me when I called people fags. Stop being so sensitive, Blaine. They don't deserve your pity."

"Fuck you," Blaine spat. He walked straight up to Marcus and glared at him, but couldn't think of anything to say. His anger seemed to wipe all reasonable thoughts from his mind.

"Maybe we've found another fag," said Carter, raising an eyebrow. "We could kill two birds with one stone."

"No," said Marcus sharply. He returned Blaine's glare coolly. "Let's go," he said, obviously talking to the others, and then to Blaine, "We're talking about this later."

"Don't count on it," said Blaine, and without another word pushed past Marcus. He could hear them walking away behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asked Sam, searching him over with his eyes. Sam was clutching his bag to his chest and staring at him.

"Why did you do that," he asked.

"You're kidding, right? You think I'd seriously just let them beat you up, or whatever they were going to do?"

"They'll hate you," he mumbled.

"They won't." Blaine shrugged. "I've done stuff like this before," he said. "They're used to it."

Sam looked at him like he often did, as though Blaine were some kind of fascinating alien species, before pulling his bag back over his shoulder and stooping down to pick up all the scattered papers on the grass. Blaine crouched to help him, realizing they were Quenya pages, torn from a notebook.

"Are these from you journal?"

"Yeah."

Blaine traced his finger over the tiny letters and thought again in awe how long it must take to write something like this.

As he handed the page back to Sam, he said without thinking, "Are you really gay?"

Sam took a second before answering. "No," he said as he took the page. Blaine took a deep breath. Okay, he told himself firmly. I can live with that. "I'm bi," Sam finished.

Blaine's breath caught in his throat. "What?" he choked.

"I'm bisexual," Sam said, a little firmer this time. "I think. If you want to hate me for it, go ahead, but please don't tell anyone."

"Um. I'm gay," Blaine said quickly as explanation that he wouldn't tell, before realizing Sam would probably work out within seconds that he had a crush on him. He felt heat creep up the back oh his neck and quickly straightened up.

"Oh," was all Sam said as he stood up.

"I'll convince Marcus to keep your secret," Blaine promised. "I hate to admit it, but somehow it doesn't matter what kind of fights we have, we always end up friends again."

"Why are you even friends with him to begin with?" Sam asked, disgusted.

Blaine shrugged. "We've just been friends for so long," he said. "It's hard to break ties like that."

Sam shook his head, folded the pages neatly and slipped them back inside the book. "Next time," he said, "don't help me."

Blaine recognized the tone from earlier that morning.

"Is that why you treated me like this in art," Blaine asked as it dawned on him. "Because I hang out with them?" Sam looked away, but Blaine walked around him until he was in his line of vision. "Because I'll stop talking to them if you want."

"No," said Sam quickly. He raised his eyes to Blaine's and Blaine realized for the first time that Sam was taller than him. "I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be seen talking to me."

"But why?" Blaine stressed.

"Are you kidding?" Sam laughed humorlessly. "Look, just forget it," he said. "I have homework to do."

Blaine stood dumbfounded as Sam walked away. He wanted to call out to him, to stop him and make him explain himself, but he didn't know what to say.

Sam was on facebook, Blaine was on facebook, but neither had spoken to one another. Blaine toyed with several conversation starters, typing them into that chat and then backspacing.

Finally, after staring at list of online friends for about half an hour, he typed in the all-too cliché Hi c: and quickly pressed enter before he could talk himself out of it.

hey, came Sam's reply a couple of seconds later.

Are you okay? Blaine typed quickly and sent.

Sam: im fine.

Blaine: Just fine?

Sam: just fine.

Blaine: Oh

Blaine: What house are you in?

Sam: alphaeus

Sam: u?

Blaine: Talemai

Blaine: I was wondering if you wanted to hang out this weekend?

Sam: we shuldnt b frnds

Sam: i told u

Blaine: But you didn't give me a very good reason
Blaine: And that chat speak is atrocious, BTW

Blaine: I can't believe you're acing your language classes

Sam: how did u no tht?

Sam: nvm

Sam: meet u rosies 1 tmro?

Blaine: It's a date :D

Blaine signed off quickly before Sam could change his mind and punched the air with his fist.

"What are you so happy about?" Paul asked curiously.

"Nothing," said Blaine smiling as he shut his laptop. "Could you give me a ride to town tomorrow?"

"What time?"

"Lunch."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "A date?" But Blaine quickly shook his head.

"I need to do a bit of shopping," he said.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said. "I have to go out to see Steph anyway. You might have to bus back, though."

"That's fine. Thanks"

The moment Blaine woke up he knew this was going to be an excellent Saturday. He got up quietly and went down to the common room to make himself a coffee, where he found Alex and Kevin making lattes and managed to talk them into making him one. He then took his drink back upstairs and opened the Doctor Who episode, loved it, and set a torrent to download the entire series while he was out.

He now had three hours to burn until one o'clock. He leaned over his laptop and grabbed the notebook lying at the back of his desk – he was going to write a song. He scribbled the title at the top of the page and smiled.

Sam.

Author's Note; I just found this one my hard drive! I had completely forgotten all about it. Should I finish it?
Sorry it's so awful!