Before Blaine Anderson was a Warbler, he was the kid in the back row of Vocal Adrenaline, swaying, humming, watching Jesse St James in awe.
He wanted that spot. He wanted to be Jesse.
"How did you become the star?" Blaine asked one day after practice as Jesse downed a water bottle.
Jesse laughed, a chuckle that was anything but humble. He looked down at the freshman, the kid that had stared at him ever since he earned a spot in the showchoir.
"I was born a star."
"So, what, you just practiced a lot?" Blaine asked, his eyes wide, curious.
Jesse wiped the sweat off his head with the back of his hand and shook his head.
"Go away, kid."
Blaine didn't go away. He continued to follow Jesse around like a puppy dog, watching Jesse closely, mimicking his every move during practice, to the point that Shelby ended up yelling at him to get back into the background and learn his own damn dance moves.
It didn't take Jesse long to realize that the kid wasn't just looking for a mentor. The way he looked at him with stars in his eyes, the content sighs whenever Jesse looked his way… Blaine was infatuated.
While Jesse was flattered, all he saw in Blaine was a kid a couple years younger than him, staring at him way too much. He wasn't…interested.
At least, that's what he told himself.
"Jesse, can you help me hit the –"
"No," Jesse said, cutting off Blaine as Blaine followed him down the hallway, practically stepping on his feet. He was way too close. All the time, too close. "And get a haircut. You look like a bum."
Blaine put a hand up to his unruly curls, a frown on his face.
"Look, Jesse, I just want…"
Jesse turned around suddenly, causing Blaine to run into him, his face hitting against Jesse's chest. "Ow," Blaine muttered, rubbing his eyebrows.
"Kid, I'm not interested. I'm not interested in being your mentor, I'm not interested in being your boyfriend, your older brother, whatever the hell it is you want me to be. Just…go away."
Blaine went bright red. Jesse knew. He'd never told anyone. Not out loud, at least.
"How did you…?"
"You're a little obvious."
Blaine looked down at the ground, biting his lip nervously.
"I just… I just want to be as great as you, Jesse. How am I supposed to be as great as you if you won't show me how to be?"
Jesse rolled his eyes. This kid had no idea. It wasn't that he practiced five hours every day after school. It wasn't that he'd been performing since he could breathe. It was just who he was. He was a natural. Blaine wasn't.
"If it doesn't come naturally, it's not ever going to happen. Just give up."
Blaine gave Jesse a sly smile, leaning in a little closer.
"On performing or trying to get you to kiss me?"
"You want me to kiss you, kid?" Jesse said, looking more amused than ever. "You realize a kiss with me doesn't equal me wanting to hold your hand in the halls, right? It doesn't equal boyfriend, it doesn't equal true love. A kiss is just a kiss."
Blaine's smile faded quickly. He turned around and walked away. Jesse stood still, keeping his eyes on the boy.
Blaine got his wish a few nights later, after his parents didn't show up to pick him up after practice. He begged Jesse for a ride home. Jesse finally caved in, only because Blaine looked so pathetic. And he hated it when people looked that pathetic.
He pitied Blaine.
That's why he kissed him.
At least, that's what he told himself.
It had nothing to do with the way Blaine had gotten a haircut, how the curls weren't unruly anymore, but perfectly coifed, the way a single curl sat on his forehead, begging to be brushed out of the way.
It had nothing to do with how good Blaine smelled, despite being covered in sweat.
It was simply out of pity. That's why he did it.
Sitting in the front seat of his car, parked in the driveway of the Anderson residence, he leaned over and kissed Blaine. Blaine returned the kiss with fervor, wrapping his hands in Jesse's hair, pushing closer.
Jesse pulled away.
"I'll see you tomorrow at practice," Jesse said coolly.
He kissed me. Why did he kiss me? Why is he acting like he just shook my hand and didn't put his tongue in my mouth? My first kiss. Jesse, Blaine thought, opening the door to the car and walking into his house.
As Jesse drove home, all he could think about was how good that kiss had felt.
It wasn't just a kiss. There was no such thing as "just a kiss." Not with Blaine Anderson.
Jesse St James didn't believe in labels. More specifically, he didn't believe in labeling one's sexuality. The fact that he didn't mind kissing a boy didn't make him gay. It just meant that he was human, that he was attracted to the human body, no matter what kind of parts that body had.
He hadn't exactly been unexcited when he'd slept with Trina last semester, after all.
The fact that his body reacted the same way when he kissed Blaine didn't mean much to him at all.
It just made him Jesse.
The fact that he couldn't stop thinking about it, however…that was what bothered him.
Seeing Blaine in the halls, winking at him as he passed by…that bothered him. Watching Blaine watch him more fervently than ever during Vocal Adrenaline practices… That bothered him.
"Stop following me," Jesse told Blaine one day, as Blaine walked a few steps down the hall away from him at all times.
"I'm just walking in the same direction as you," Blaine said.
"You're following me."
"Are you going to the victory party after sectionals on Saturday?" Blaine asked, giving up on the I'm-not-following-you act. He was stalking Jesse, and he knew it.
"Yes, of course."
"I'll see you there."
Jesse barely saw Blaine at the party. His eyesight was blurred, he could barely even speak. The concoction that the girl manning the bar had made was much stronger than he was used to.
He felt a hand take his and lead him down the hall.
And he felt lips on his. He'd kissed these lips before, he knew. They felt familiar.
"Blaine?" Jesse murmured, barely taking his lips off of the boy's for a second. He didn't want to detach his lips. He just wanted to keep going. He felt Blaine nod beneath his lips. He kissed him deeper, letting his hands roam, shoving them both onto the bed that was just so close, so convenient…
Neither of them remembered much about the party. They saw each other Monday morning, but didn't make eye contact.
Blaine didn't feel like he could make eye contact when the last thing he remembered about Saturday night was grinding hard against Jesse, so hard, so hard until they both cried out, ruining their outfits and making the bed a complete mess.
He didn't allow himself to remember anything else.
While his eyes were on Jesse's ass, he felt his shoulder get pushed, hard, into the locker.
"Fag," the boy walking by said, giving him a look that clearly stated "come at me, bro."
Blaine said nothing. He did nothing. He just let the rage stew around his body, and took a deep breath.
It wasn't the first time he'd been called that. And it wouldn't be the last.
"You could've defended me, you know," Blaine said after practice, cornering Jesse backstage.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jesse said.
He was playing the if-I-pretend-like-nothing-happened-then-nothing-really-did-happen card. It was working well for him. He had no desire to remember what happened. He didn't want to think about what happened.
He especially didn't want to think about what happened in the hall, knowing that if anyone had realized that it was Jesse in the room alone with Blaine at that party…he'd get shoved into lockers too.
Honestly, Jesse had no desire to get shoved into any lockers.
"So it's going to be like that?" Blaine asked, feeling hurt but somehow, not surprised.
Jesse said nothing. He nodded. He walked away.
Blaine tried to just let it go.
Things got worse for Blaine. The name calling, the abuse. People wouldn't stop. And Jesse never once defended him. He never once said, "You might as well call me a fag too, guys. I was the one in the room with him at the party."
He never said, "I fooled around with him."
He never said, "Punch me instead."
Blaine had never been angrier in his life. It wasn't the bullies that were getting to him. It was the lack of caring coming from Jesse's general direction that was getting to him.
The next time a dancer from Vocal Adrenaline pushed him against the wall and told him that he was a loser, Blaine pushed him aside, and saw Jesse standing there. Jesse, standing in the middle of the hallway, watching with amusement. And not doing a damn thing about it.
He pushed the dancer out of the way and barreled towards Jesse, fists ready to go.
He wasn't expecting to get expelled. Sure, he'd beat up the star of Vocal Adrenaline and was the reason that Jesse was currently sitting in the nurse's office with a pack of ice on his crotch, but he wasn't expecting to get expelled.
"Why did you do it?" his dad asked him as they walked out of Carmel high, the contents of Blaine's locker now in his backpack.
"Bullies," Blaine said simply. "They just…pissed me off."
He looked back at the school, wondering if Jesse really was standing at the door, staring at him like he'd made the biggest mistake in his entire life, or if that was just his imagination.
Just your imagination, he decided.
Jesse didn't care about him. He never would. No matter how much Blaine would want him to.
Blaine knew Jesse would never love him back. Everything had been a mistake. Everything.
It was time to start over.
It was time to be Jesse.