I lied.

I was a dirty, sneaky, lying little bastard when I told him I'd head straight to school, thanks for the toast, and don't let Mrs. Collins run you over, crazy old lady. And he'd just smiled at me.

"Pagan."

"You'll be late."

"Pagan."

"Blaine."

And he left.

Whatever possessed me to go behind his back, to follow him as he followed his boyfriend back to the nightmare-inducing hellhole affectionately termed "public school", I'll never exactly know, but despite how much I detested the idea of attending classes with cookie-cutter stereotypes and cliques cut out from magazine pages, I had the motivation. I can't say I had an outcome in mind, an end to work towards, or anything at all to finish with, because that was really the whole reason.

Time.

The only thing I wanted, for every Christmas, birthday, and random holiday I stumbled across, every time I blew out a candle, or brushed an eyelash off my cheek, I wished for a year. A month. A week. I'd take anything, because any more time was more than I had, and that meant the world to me. So I pulled myself from Crawford Country Day, forged the signatures of my preoccupied parents, and submitted my transcripts to one McKinley Public High School.

I never said I was bright.

But the motivation was there. Because Blaine was there. And if Blaine was there, that meant that my best friend was there, my soul mate, my heart.

My brother.

I waited for his car to disappear around the corner at the end of the street before I raced outside, slamming the polished oak behind me and not caring at the way it made the windows on either side rattle as I went, and slid into my own car. My bag spilled onto the passenger seat, and I took a moment to queue up a playlist to listen to on the drive, because silence is too quiet, too perfect, and it always made me think, so I never did anything silently. Music playing, I pulled out of the long drive and crept down the street, forcing myself to drive exactly at the speed limit the whole way there to make sure I'd be one of the last people in. It worked. I parked at the exact back of the lot, scooped up my bag and dashed inside just as a bell pealed and echoed around in my skull, making my blood pound a bit harder behind my eyes.

I fell asleep in exactly three classes, daydreamed in the other four, and hid myself in the library during the lunch period, for once thankful I hadn't had an appetite in two years, and otherwise I'd have been starving. There, hunched against a metal rack of books, my nose affectionately pressed in the pages of Macbeth, I decided that maybe public school wasn't so bad if it meant my classes were miles behind where I was at Crawford, therefore letting me expend no excess energy on studying. I could focus on more important things. More fun things.

Because having fun is fun.

I once ran into a guy walking through the park after I tripped on a crack in the walk and he graciously broke my fall, letting the concrete break his. After we stood and brushed the dirt off, I apologized and told him my name. "Pagan." He said his name was Carl. I asked him if he was just out for a walk, or if he was headed somewhere, because when I crashed into him he looked determined, like he had someplace to be. He shook his head. "I guess I'm just walking, because I haven't anywhere to be," he said. "Oh," I said. And then I asked, "Are you lost?" He smiled at me and said, "I don't think so." "You're not sure?" "Well, if I was, I'm not anymore since you seem to have found me." I frowned. "But I wasn't looking for you." He smiled. "You don't have to be looking for someone to find them." I said, "Oh."

When I got home for lunch and Blaine asked me where I'd been, I told him I'd been looking for someone. "Did you find them?" he asked. "I think so," I nodded, "At least, he said I did." "Well that's good, then. No one likes to be lost," Blaine said, handing me a sandwich before he went to sit out in the living room to eat his. I took the sandwich and thought it might be nice to get lost for a while, because then if someone found you, that meant someone was looking for you, and doesn't everybody want to know that someone's looking for them? I took a bite of my sandwich.

So when someone almost tripped over me just as Lady Macbeth started screaming about spots, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and thanked them for finding me before I handed them the book and went back to class.

Sitting in my last class that first day, having successfully managed to avoid Blaine, mostly due to the fact that he was a year ahead of me, but I liked to think myself part ninja, I decided that every clock in the school was set to go at half-speed during the final hour. Math classes tend to be dry to begin with, but when it's stuff you've sat through once already it becomes mocking in its tediousness, and every glance at the clock only seems to make it go slower. I pondered the meaning of time, does it pass differently for everyone, can two people experience the exact same moment but at different times, and just why does the clock get louder the slower it feels it's going? and almost missed the last bell. It wasn't until someone bumped into the corner of my desk that I realized we'd been released and I couldn't help the excitement bubbling up inside of me, because that meant I could have my fun that day, while at the same time I prayed that Blaine wouldn't slaughter me. Then I realized that praying was kind of pointless because I was atheist, so I made a wish on a speck of dust that floated by while I walked to my locker that Blaine wouldn't decide I wasn't worth it anymore, and then I laughed because I knew he'd never think that, so I took my wish back and put it in my back pocket for later. You never know when you're going to need to make a wish.

Pretending to be busy just to waste time is so much more difficult than actually being busy, I discovered as I lingered at my locker, waiting desperately for the halls to clear out, thankful that my locker was well away from both Blaine and the choir room. I had no doubt that he'd have heard about there being a transfer student, because I heard at least seven people whisper to their friends as I passed between classes today about me, but that didn't worry me because no one knew my name yet. In fact it excited me more, so when the halls were finally empty I nearly bounced across the school to the choir room I'd heard Blaine talk so much about at home. I paused outside the door and waited until I heard the teacher call them to order and wait for the buzzing of chatter to quiet down, and when I saw him get ready to speak again, I tossed the door open and sauntered inside, dropping my bag onto the top of the piano and reveling in the sight of Blaine slack-jawed.

I wished I had a camera.

"Is it too late to audition?"

And before anyone could do or say anything, I snatched up an acoustic guitar and slung it over my shoulders, tuning it up as I dragged a stool front and center with my foot, hopping and tuning and dragging until everything was where I wanted it to be and sat down. A quick strum through the progressions, and I started.

"Tuesday came and I feigned happy.

I'm so lonely here.

This thing between my lungs is

Making me so tired.

It's bleeding me."

I glanced up to find them all staring at me in wonder, and briefly imagined turkeys drowning themselves in rainfall by staring upwards open-mouthed.

I kept singing.

"You know me and how I hate this,

We've said enough for now.

Although it's been three hours,

We haven't spoken at all.

Inside this empty cabinet,

Nothing shines in here.

On the edge of night, we look down on our streets and houses.

You felt sick, so I drove back.

And if we go back to stars, we won't need any money-

We won't need these poor hearts."

Blaine looked at me somewhere between confusion and fury and awe as I strummed through a quick instrumental and tried to tell him with my eyes that I'd explain, that I'm OK, but I don't think he heard me because he blinked.

"This crowd incites my riots,

I'll try to calm them down.

Criminals compound my weakness,

I'm barely hanging on.

They're bleeding me.

Why can't I feel it?

Nothing hurts down here.

On the edge of night, we look down on our streets and houses.

You felt sick so I drove back.

And if we go back to stars, we won't need any money-

We won't need these poor hearts."

I think I shocked them because nobody moved while I put the guitar and stool back, scooped my bag up off the piano, and went to claim the seat next to Blaine, sitting down heavily and crossing my legs. Blaine let out a sharp bark of laughter and slung his arms around my shoulders and it slapped everyone else back to their senses because suddenly they were all talking really loudly at me and I'm not even sure it was all in English. Finally they shut up as the teacher clapped his hands and raised an eyebrow at me in question, staring pointedly at Blaine's arm around me and my head on his shoulder.

"Pagan," I stated. "Pagan Anderson."

I think I broke them.

Especially Kurt. He looked like someone kicked sand in his eyes and stole every pair of Doc Martens right out of his closet and used his Toms to scrape gum off the undersides of benches, which I would be upset about, too, because really? But considering he just realized his boyfriend neglected to tell him about his "Irish twin" sister, I decided he had every right to look like that and gave Blaine a look to say "You can tell him, if you want, because I know you do and he needs to know, and I'm okay with it, honest," and I guess he got the gist of it because he nodded and frowned a little. I poked him between the eyes to remind him about wrinkles and he smiled again, laughing a bit and reaching out to hold Kurt's hand. I saw him squeeze it and I knew that he'd just told Kurt "I'm sorry, I'll tell you everything, I love you", because I'd said it the exact same way to Blaine before.

I kicked my own pair of white Doc Martens off and folded my legs up under myself on the chair as Mr. Schuester asked us to wait a moment while he went through some sheet music, so I picked idly at the fabric of my burgundy jeans and waited until someone behind me said "Your socks don't match."

I shrugged. "I know."

"Why?"

"Does there have to be a reason?" I wondered why everything needed to be validated, why can't people do things just to do them anymore?

"Just curious," he said.

"Why are you sitting forward in your chair instead of back?" I tried to raise an eyebrow at him, but it didn't work so I just raised both and squinted my eyes a bit in question. I think he understood.

"Because I want to," he replied, but it sounded like a question, and he ran his hand through his hair in confusion.

I nodded as if that explained everything, because it did, really, but he just looked more confused and Blaine poked me to talk to him, so I sighed and turned around, stretching my legs and wiggling my toes.

"People worry too much about having socks that match," I tried to explain. It made sense in my head, but Blaine helped me learn when I was younger that maybe not everybody thought about things the same way I did, so I shouldn't get upset when people got frustrated talking to me, which happened a lot, but never with Blaine, because he understood all of me. "When you do your laundry, and you go to put it all away, every once in a while you find that you managed to lose one sock, and then after you spend the whole day looking for it and can't find it, you're upset and angry and it ruins what might have been a good day because now you have one sock that doesn't have a match, and I don't understand why it's so important when usually people don't see socks, anyway, and really, if people care so much what socks you're wearing, then I'm not sure their priorities are very straight at all." I took a breath. "So I just don't bother."

They all stared at me, or maybe there was something behind me, but when I turned to check there wasn't anything interesting back there so I assumed they really were all staring at me, but I was used to it by then. I waited a minute.

Two minutes.

I decided that no one was going to say anything, so I turned to face the front of the room again and curled my legs back up onto the chair underneath me, laced my fingers together and placed my hands in my lap, waiting for the lesson to begin.

Blaine told me later that I was very good at first impressions. I asked him why and he said because I had a point of view and I wasn't afraid to share it. So then I asked what would be the point in having a point of view, anyway, if I didn't share it? to which he replied "I guess there wouldn't be", and I asked, "Is that your point of view?" and he shrugged and said he'd never thought about what his point of view on points of view was.

"Maybe you should think about it, then."

"Maybe I should."

He came into my room just before I went to bed and said that his point of view was that a point of view would be pointless if it wasn't expressed, and he proceeded to point out his point of view on every single thing in my room until I was laughing too hard to hear him, so I threw pillows at him until he left, laughing just as hard as me.

I loved my brother.

So much.

The next morning I woke up and frowned.

When I went into the kitchen to find Blaine making eggs and toast for us, I told him "Bad day," and he just nodded and said "OK", because every once in a while I'd wake up and just know that I wasn't going to be having a very fun day. I wouldn't want to talk to anyone, I'd spend as much time as possible as alone as possible, because sometimes that's all I needed, but a lot of times nobody else could tell and they'd insist on being near me, and I would feel awful because I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but that's exactly what would have happened if I'd opened my mouth. The pills were supposed to help, but sometimes I wondered if they gave me the right ones because I never really felt much different, but Blaine always made me take them, so I took a pill.

At school I did my best to avoid having to talk with anyone, but apparently once you're in Glee Club every single one of them suddenly becomes your best friend and so they all tried to get me in a conversation, and I felt like a jackass for feigning sick and running away to the nurse so that they couldn't follow me. Turns out I wasn't lying because the second I got there I felt so bad I had to bolt through the tiny office to the bathroom in the back and spent the next half hour crouched on the bathroom floor, shaking in spasms and choking up mouthful after mouthful of bile. It got so bad that I didn't even remember where I was until I felt something warm behind me and opened my eyes to a dim ceiling.

"Don't move," Blaine whispered from behind me, and I wondered how he knew, but then I vaguely remembered gasping out his name in between the horrible cramping pains while the nurse fluttered helplessly around me.

Then I gasped. "Do they know?"

I felt him shake his head because I was leaning against his chest as he sat propped up on the wall, and we both were sitting on one of those uncomfortable doctor-beds, and he had his chin resting on the top of my head so I felt it scratch back and forth against my hair.

"None of the students," he whispered, rubbing my arms because he knew how tense I'd get. "Of course, all of the teachers know, but I asked the Principal to make sure that none of them would ever talk about it, so none of the kids will know."

And then he said, "You're safe," and that made me so relieved that I slumped back against him and closed my eyes, exhausted, but he didn't let me sleep just yet. He felt my forehead for fever, but I guess I wasn't warm because he didn't make me take any pills, and then he checked my exposed arms for bruises and made me roll up my pants and shirt to check my legs and stomach. They were ugly and splotchy and purple and I hated them, but Blaine didn't judge me for them, ever, he just ran his hands gently over them and then pressed his lips to my temple and let me tug my shirt back down the cover them. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to hide the way my thumb was twitching, but I knew he saw.

"Pagan," he said.

"Blaine."

"Pagan."

"I'll be OK."