Kurt hesitated before pushing the big wooden doors open. A big room, decorated with blue and red fabrics, was revealed in front of him. He explored it quietly, watching the tons of kids that were hiding under piles of books. He was already scared, and the view of under-pressure kids studying full time was not helping the tiny bit.

He located a small kid with silk black hair sitting alone in the corner. He debated himself whether to get closer or not, and deciding he had nothing to lose here; he started walking quietly still looking around.

"Hi I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm new here," he said happily. The boy smiled back and Kurt started feeling a bit more secure.

"Is anyone sitting here?" he asked, pointing at a chair in front of the boy who shook his head in response. "You are the only one without a book pile in front of you. Are you like… the smartest kid around or something?"

The boy moved his hand making a face, as if trying to cancel Kurt's word. The quiet boy looked sad, lonely maybe, but Kurt decided that he was not entirely alone, and usually when Kurt Hummel decides something, it is true.

"Do you even speak?" he asked softly, trying not to insult the boy. He had the most beautiful eyes Kurt has ever seen in his life. They had this sparkle in them that did something to Kurt. Something he couldn't put his finger on.

The boy lowered his head, and Kurt grabbed a pencil from the boy's pen case and pointed at a sheet paper. "What's your name?"

The boy looked at the paper and started writing slowly.

'Blaine Anderson; a junior, a warbler."

Kurt looked at the sentence. The boy – Blaine – had the perfect handwriting. And a perfect name mind you. "Um, sorry for being rude but… how can you be a warbler when you don't even speak?"

Kurt had heard about the warblers before he transferred to Dalton. He knew it was hard to get in and he was even kind of scared to try getting in. How in the name of all that is good and holly, could a mute boy get in there?

'You'll have to hear the whole story… I bet you're not interested in that. Maybe, you tell me why you transferred?'

Kurt lowered his head reading quietly. The boy looked really nice, and he might be just the friend Kurt needed right now. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.

"Well… I was the only out kid in my school. One of the Neanderthals made it his life mission to make my life a living hell."

He watched s Blaine's mouth formed the shape of an O. 'I had a feeling. I am so sorry. I'm gay too…' he wrote, a sad look in his eyes again.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Kurt said, relieved to meet a fellow gay teen, "I am here now. Though I am really interested in hearing how you got into the Warblers when you don't speak."

'I've got to be heading off to class now, but I'd love to meet you for coffee this evening. I finish at five'

Kurt nodded, "I finish up at five too. Give me your phone, I'll save my number. Call—oh sorry, text me when you finish school, I'll have to meet you in one of the classes because I have no idea how to get to the café."

Blaine handed Kurt his phone and while Kurt was pressing numbers easily Blaine kept writing.

'It's actually the best one ever!'

Kurt handed him back his phone smiling, "yeah, so I've heard. Something about a timetable and a Dalton card to get free coffee in the mornings and one for two dollars during the day."

Blaine nodded, bowed his head slightly as if to say 'excuse me' and ran out of the commons. Kurt stared after him, and then back at the kids around him. Suddenly he realized that the children might be hidden under piles and piles of books, but they were all laughing. Something about this school was better. Newer maybe.

^.^

They day passes pretty quickly when you have something to expect to, so Kurt discovered. He waited for that text the whole day, so when he got the 'I'll be next English III in five -B' he squealed and jumped high, starting to run over to the direction of English III.

Blaine was standing there, wearing a Dalton blazer. That was something Kurt usually would not count as peculiar, but that day was extremely hot and everybody was wearing a Dalton button-up shirt with short sleeves.

He earned a small hug from Blaine, and they started walking in a direction Kurt put under a 'café' note in his mind. It took his a few seconds, and when they walked in Kurt saw couples of Dalton students sitting next to tables, drinking coffee and chatting.

The cashier – a tall and skinny man Kurt decided was in his mid-thirties – already knew Blaine. "The regular?" he shouted, earning a nod from Blaine.

"I'll have a non-fat grand mocha please," Kurt said after he realized the cashier was staring impatiently.

They sat in the nearest table available, Blaine having a medium drip. Kurt watched as Blaine took a pen and a sheet of paper from his bag and placed it on the table.

"You really don't speak? Like, at all?"

Blaine shook his head and pointed at the paper's direction.

"Oh yeah your story, please tell me" Kurt smiled at him.

'I need you to take this easy. It's going to be hard but please wait until I am finished and then say what you want.' Blaine looked up, and waited until Kurt nodded his head.

'Anyway it all started after I came out to my parents. I was fifteen and some kid outed me in front of the school'

That was when Kurt realized Blaine was wearing long sleeves again. Something in him told him it had to do with his story.

'They over-heard or something and they told everyone in my school. Saying it was unpleasant will be an under-statement. I had one friend. A boy named Wes, who is still one of my best friends along with David (I'll introduce you to them tomorrow). He was going to a different school, and was the only one I could be myself with. He heard me singing once or twice, before I stopped speaking.'

Kurt waited for a few seconds. Blaine lifted his head up and Kurt took it as a permission to ask questions.

"So you actually know how to speak? Why did you stop then?"

Blaine sighed. 'Do you really want to hear it all? It's hard, sad, hurting…'

Kurt nodded, so Blaine just moved on slowly.

'For a start the Neanderthals just called me names. I got it all. Fag, Queer, they knew it all. And there was no escape. But then it got harder. They shoved me, attacked me, every time they could. I'd come home bruised and my mum would freak out. We all knew there was nothing to do about it…'

Kurt felt tears coming up his throat, and slowly he gave up, letting them come out.

'One day they just caught me off guard. Took a knife and started cutting me. Two of them were holding me, and the other one was signing; literally signing.'

Kurt watched with a look of horror as Blaine took off his blazer. His right hand was scarred harshly. Kurt looked at it shyly and could clearly read 'Jackson' and 'Clark'. Moving his head to the left hand, he looked it up and down. Next to the shoulder, a deep cut read 'Kennedy'. Moving his eyes down a bit, Kurt's eyes widened as he say a 'FAG' written on Blaine's wrist. And even though this word was not as deep cut as the other three, and even though it was not as clear as the others, that word was the word that triggered Kurt's tears even more. Because the scars were one thing, but the fact that the three were so heartless, the fact that Blaine had to go through it all fully awake and suffering. It was all too hard, too mean.

'I ended up in the hospital. I was in a coma for three days after losing so much blood. I woke up with my parents and with Wes next to me. And I decided that there was no point speaking, it they all didn't care. If they all let it happen not even caring.'

Kurt got up from his seat and hugged Blaine like he never hugged anybody. The tears fell from both boys' eyes, and they stood there hugging for a few moments.

'Thanks. Thanks for listening and being there. You're an amazing friend'

"You're amazing too" Kurt said, and took another sip from his mocha.

Author's Note:

Hello to you all! This is a first chapter of a series. It is my first try to angst and drama and I really want to make this happen. So pretty please, leave a comment for me, tell me what you think about it.

If you have anything to say – really, anything – please do!