A great deal of inspiration of this story came the book 'Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close' by Johnathan Safran Foer for the pure beautiful quotes inside it, and from 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' by Stephen Chbosky, which is just solely my favourite book of all time. I'll include references to these books along the way, so here is a bit of pre-warning. I'm A and I haven't really written fan-fiction before, but I've put alot of planning and detail into this story, and I'm hoping that chapter by chapter, more of the underlying plotline can be revealed in a similar way to how the characters discover it. There's going to be some pretty deep stuff, so just warning you all now. Any reviews would be loved, I'd really enjoy hearing your opinions on it. Here's hoping that you like it.

'I'm so afraid of losing something I love, that I refuse to love anything.'
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Staring down at his feet, he could feel the red tinge blossoming on his face as his cheeks flushed with colour. Determined to shake the embarrassment, he continued to look down, staring at the entwined laces on his shoes and resisting making eye-contact with either the class or the teacher. They were weird, shoe-laces, the way they were just one long string but then turned into two conjoining things. It would be like separating a person into two, and then putting them back together again. Sometimes, he felt like he was bursting into two. Sometimes, he felt ready to burst completely. He traced the faint lines of the laces as they wove in-between the soft holes on his trainers, following their path...

"Mr Anderson ?" The speech cut through his daydream like a knife through the air. Looking up, he bit into the delicate bottom part of his lip for comfort as he stared up at the tall male teacher. He hadn't bothered to pick up his name yet, but he guessed the teacher had definitely familiarised himself with his. The room flooded back to him, dark and ominous. It wasn't actually that dark, but perhaps that was a reflection of his mood more than anything. Perhaps those were his nerves.

"I'm sorry... What was the question?" he stuttered slightly, keeping his face as calm and collected as possible. His arms twitched slightly as he positioned them behind his back, digging his nails slightly into the palm of his hand. Gazing around the room for a brief second, this classroom was unfamiliar from his usual Dalton surroundings. It was nice though, to see everyone had a bit more of a personality. You could distinguish one face from another beyond a blur of blazers. And that scared him slightly, because hiding behind a blazer had become a safety mechanism. Without the blazer, what else did he have to fit in with everybody else? His eye's flickered down upon himself. Skinny jeans that had a slightly rip at the knee with tattered fabric lay on his bottom half, with a grey knitted jumper hugging at his torso. It deemed acceptable to him, it seemed to blend in with a variety of the students. He didn't seem too different or isolated, although perhaps the ripped jeans were a mistake. He didn't feel comfortable in them for one, but he was sure this was what people outside of Dalton wore. It looked casual and cool. At least, he hoped it did. That was the look that many people seemed to fall into now days.

"I was wondering if you wanted to share anything with the class at all? Tell us about yourself. A fun fact perhaps?" The teacher was trying, and Blaine appreciated that, but he was trying a bit too hard. He didn't want anyone to know any 'fun facts' of trivia. Was there going to be some unexpected quiz on the new kid or something? He flickered his eyelids up and met with the sea of eyes staring at him. It was obvious he was being over analytical. Just think Blaine, think of something everybody else would say. Swallowing hard, he felt his adam's apple pull hard against his throat as he prepared himself. Come on, think. Think. His nails dug more into the fleshly fabric of the palm of his hand as he felt the colour reddening in his cheeks once more. It's not that hard, just say something. Anything.

"Ummm, I'm Blaine. This is my first day here... And I like football" he announced, rushing the last bit as the thought came to his head. Football was fun right? Football was a big deal at McKinley, of course they liked football. He allowed himself to gaze round the room once more and saw that this comment met the approval of much of the room. Various people exchanged looks of humour as he turned back to the teacher, who he remembered had introduced himself as Mr Schuster earlier that day. He allowed himself to breathe for what seemed to be the first time since he had entered the school. Withdrawing his nails from his hand and positioning his arms in a more relaxed stance by his sides, he looked deeply at the Spanish teacher. He wondered whether the teacher was happy, whether he was content in his job. Whether he really wanted to spend all day asking new students fun facts about themselves or whether he'd much rather spend his time doing something of use. What would he tell everyone if he was asked to announce a fact about himself? Would it be that he loved 'The Smiths' or that his favourite horror movie was 'The Shining'? Would it be that he was secretly a cancan dancer at night or that when he was younger he wanted to be an astronaut? Or would he do the same as everyone else, and find a bland boring fact that met general appreciation and showed the least bit of character. The second seemed more probable, although Blaine allowed a smile to escape his lips at the thought of a cancan dancer.

"Well, there is a spare seat for you right next to Mike-" the teacher motioned towards another boy of roughly the same build as Blaine "-and you should have already have received your time-table and subjects from the admin office" he trailed off. He looked expectantly at Blaine, and without hesitation Blaine returned a quick nod. He didn't like expecting looks. How were you supposed to anticipate what the other wanted? How were you supposed to know how to give the right answer or right gesture? A nod seemed to work though as Mr Shue looked away from Blaine and wandered towards the large board. He went into auto-pilot, walking towards the free desk and trying to balance out the overwhelming feeling that everyone was looking at him. He took his seat quickly, a little too quickly he guessed, and pushed his bag onto his desk to quickly remove a notepad and paper. He shrugged his shoulders down in the chair and sighed softly, allowed his lips to part with the breathe. You did it Blainers, you did it. He repositioned his bag on the floor and let his eyes wander to the nearest window. His concerns of not fitting-in seemed to be a thing of the past as he easily blended with the mindless zombies Spanish class had to other. Maybe this would be a little easier then he thought.

"Are you going to spend all day picturing the new kid naked, or are you going to help me Porcelain' Santana's voice boomed through the cafeteria. Kurt didn't know what was worse, the less than adorable nickname or the fact that she wanted his help with anything.

"Looking at someone sitting on a separate table to us is not picturing them naked Santana" he informed her with a hint of disgust, adding raised eyebrows and rolling his eyes forcefully, just to make sure he got his point across. Yes, Kurt Hummel was staring at Blaine, but not because he was picturing him without clothes. Definitely not, he's tried watching those sorts of movies and they had just sort of creeped him out. All he could keep thinking of was the complete lack of story structure and the terrible acting. He was just looking, that was all.

"Speak for yourself Hummel, all you bitches are naked to me" she cackled above the audible tick of the cafeteria clock as she settled beside him, much to his dismay. He moved slightly, only enough for her to squeeze her minimal body onto the edge of the bench as he and Tina exchanged a disgruntled look. It wasn't that they disliked Santana; it was more that when she was in one of these moods, she was only the sort of people that you could only handle in small doses. Very small doses. We're talking microscopic here. "Anyway Kurt, you got the hots for Mr Newbie over there?" she crooned, sticking her face an uncomfortably close distance from Kurts. Resisting the temptation to be physically sick, Kurt pushed her away with the crook of his elbow and raised his eyebrows jestingly. Sometimes he did wonder whether Santana Lopez was like one of those animals in the zoo in mating season. She just seemed to be focused on love, or lust as it were, constantly and Kurt had to hold his tongue from recommending that she used the school showers to cool off for a while. Or that she kindly joined them in the zoo. At this moment, either pleased him greatly.

"He has a name, San. He's called Blaine-" Kurt began, readjusting himself on the bench so that he and Santana both had the same amount of room. Picking delicately at the Caesar Salad in front of him, Kurt made a quick gaze over at the boys table again. He was surrounded by a small bunch of people, mainly a few of the band members and one or two jocks. But he wasn't looking or making conversation with them, and they weren't with him either. Although he was immersed in the group, none of them really appeared to be his sorts of people. Shrugging the questioning thoughts off, Kurt was reminded of his own table. Santana Lopez, Mercedes Jones, Artie Abrahams and Tina Cohen-Chang were hardly the most alike people in the world, so who was he to judge somebody else's group dynamics. A year ago, Kurt probably wouldn't have thought these were his sort of people either. He smiled tentatively, thinking about how much had changed since he started McKinley, but the idea left him to be replaced by a questioning thought. "Do you not find it sad that he's been here for a month and people are still calling him the new kid?" Kurt continued, prodding the salad with the stupid plastic fork once more.

"That's just how it works. Everybody starts together and then anyone who joins in after is the new kid" Santana began, flicking daintily at the pleats of her Cheerio's skirt. He gazed past her distracting actions and back at Blaine. He wasn't eating, not from what Kurt could tell, and he definitely wasn't making conversation. What was he doing? Just sitting there? Kurt's thoughts were interrupted by Santana's continuation of modern day school philosophy "- and then any other kids who come after that, they become the new new kids. Besides, it's not like people haven't made conversation with him or anything. He's a nice kid..." she finished, and for a second Kurt actually thought that Santana had forgotten her brain was primarily controlled by her lower regions, only to be utterly underwhelmed by her notion that "-and he's hot. Really hot."

"I haven't seen him speak to many people at all" Kurt questioned, still unfulfilled by the lack of clear fact that surrounded the boy. Kurt was good with fact and knowledge. He could recite you at least two bits of clear factual content about every single member of the dining hall and this included all eight lunch lady's and the janitor, who was a nice old man named Brian in case you were curious. But he didn't know one fact about this boy. Well, apart from 'I like football', but that seemed too seemingly obvious. Besides, if he liked football that much, why hadn't he gone to two of the matches that had been played in the last three weeks? And why did he primarily hang around with the musicians and the media geeks? Anyway, Kurt congratulated himself on the sensibility of distinguishing a jock from a drama-queen and this boy certainly fit neither, especially in those skinny ripped jeans.

"We had a conversation just two days ago, Hummel. Besides, what's your fascination with this kid?" Santana probed, elevating herself from the seat to the table, resting herself impedingly close to Kurt's salad. He hadn't liked it before hand, but the acceleration of Santana's arse to his food had put him off altogether. He pushed the salad away from him, letting it flow across the small space to the opposite side of the table, where Artie seemed none the wiser as he engaged in conversation with Mercedes.

"It's not a fascination, I'm just curious" Kurt retaliated sternly, annoyed that Santana seemed to be insinuating that he was obsessed with this boy. He didn't even know this boy, how could he be obsessed. That was the problem. He didn't even know him. "So, what did you talk about ?"

Santana flicked one leg over the over as she scanned the cafeteria, her usual lioness instincts obviously on the prowl. "The usual things.. It wasn't exactly a life changing experience Porcelain, we just discussed movies and music really" she shrugged, not losing concentration from scanning the student body in their mass. Kurt was surprised. Not at the fact Santana was arrogantly looking at her subjects, this was usual behaviour, but at the fact that she'd got that much conversation from Blaine. He shared three classes with the boy and on reflection, he couldn't think of any one conversation he had seen Blaine have that didn't involve the class work in hand or him informing the teacher that he was newly transferred. His eyes flickered up at Santana, who had obviously bored from her casual inspections of hotness among her classmates as she tugged on the pleats of her Cheerio skirt once again. "What kind of music does he like then? I'd imagine its sort of indie stuff from the way he dresses" Kurt mused, biting on the inside of his cheek as he waited for an answer.

"I'm not sure to be honest. I mean, I thought I'd start conversation because he's always got his headphones in and stuff, so I asked him what he was listening to" she started, now folding the delicate pleats into a knot like structure "and he said music, so I told him about the sort of music I liked and he kind of listened. I don't think he's a big talker, but he seemed nice enough." Kurt chewed with more intensity on the inside of his cheek, feeling the sharp pain dig into the side of his face. Something wasn't quite right here, it didn't solely add up. For someone who has spent a great deal of time with his headphones in, why wouldn't he want to talk about music with one of the school's hottest exports? He didn't think the justification of 'not a big talker' really fit the situation. There was not being a big talker, and then there was isolating yourself. Surely, if you were the new kid at a school, you'd want to fit in and make friends wouldn't you? You would want to secure some sort of emotional tie with someone, especially someone with the high social standing of Santana Lopez.

"Ladyfingers, can we move onto more pressing matters? As lovely as your conquest into Bert's life story is, were supposed to be planning my outfit for this weekend's get together" Santana swooned, dropping from the table back to the chair. Kurt knew she was right. He was making such a big deal out of little insignificant details, but he had watched his fair share of romantic comedies and read enough romance novels to notice a anomalous piece of data from a mile. Blaine didn't fit the quiet, nerdy types of Colin Farrell, nor did he fit the over-animated Jude Law like characters either. Perhaps it was the lack of water he had drunk today that was making him sceptical on this humid day, but there was something strange there and Kurt had always been a great lover of mysteries. "Well, it's getting summery, so you're going to want a nice bold colour to subtract from Rachel's impending granny-skirt and shoes..." Kurt began, not once taking his eyes from the dark haired male who clutched onto his school bag like it was a detonating bomb. What are you hiding in that big old bag of yours, Mr Anderson.