Hey, guys! So this is the first story I'm posting online, hopefully it's any good. Before you read, a little background on this; I need to acknowledge a bunch of my friends for editing, and most of all Julia for contributing so many great ideas and dialouge pieces. I'm really excited about this story, and look forward to seeing reactions, please leave reviews!

Finally, disclaimer: I do not own Glee. If I did, season six would be very different.

Enjoy!

Chapter One

They say you can find out a lot about yourself looking at your past. Your childhood, especially. You see what you were like, if you were one of those kids that craved attention; the focus of every family photo. Or, if you were the other kind of kid, the one that's photo albums just kind of stop after those candid baby photos, the ones they couldn't duck out of the frame for.

When I thought about this theory, a kindergarten memory comes to mind. I was seated on the primary-colored rug with my legs crossed, hands folded in my lap. Each child had to say an animal, and why they liked it. My friend Rachel said a bird, because she liked to sing like they do. I think that's where all the beak jokes started, she does have a sizeable nose. Another girl, Brittany, had said a unicorn, because she was just as magical. To this day, she felt the same. Me, I said a chameleon. I said it was because I thought they were cute, but subconsciously, I knew why I chose it.

I fade into the background. Just like Rachel and Brittany related to their animals of choice, I could easily see how similar a chameleon and myself were. We both could disappear when we wanted, and we wanted to. It was a defense mechanism, as said by Animal Planet and by the school guidance counselor.

So when my freshman year of highschool began, I flew under the radar. I think I was just... too weighted down to fly above it. In summary, freshman year was a personal hell. Things happened that reappear in my nightmares, things happened that made me cry myself to sleep. And being the only openly gay kid in my grade didn't help, not in the slightest.

Sophomore year was a more tolerable version of my freshman year, until the very end. But I won't get into all that now, that's not my story. My story is junior year, a ripped notebook, and a boy with honey eyes and untameable curls. Stay tuned.

Like all good stories, you start with establishing the setting. And mine left little to the imagination. I transferred to William McKinley High today, the first day of my junior year. It wasn't much different than my old highschool, it featured the same groups of students. The punks, the honors society, the jocks. Everything the same except the names printed on the backs of their letterman jackets.

I didn't fit into any of the groups. I was just... there. I know, I know, classic highschool story. But I mean it when I say I don't fit in. And sitting alone at lunch that day only proved me to be right. Isolated at the table in the back corner, I was suddenly back at circle time in kindergarten, the chameleon that blended into everything around me.

I finally dropped my gaze from the surrounding tables, opting to read the first assigned reading for English instead.

Not two minutes later, I was pulled back into reality as there was a thump at my table. I looked up slowly, almost scared to see the person now casting a shadow over my work. But then they sat down, and I was forced to lift my head fully. I felt my breathing catch, my eyes instantly meeting the boy's gaze. He was...

"Are you new here?" He was asking me a question, and I swallowed, looking around myself quickly.

"Is it obvious?" I could only hope he didn't notice the shake of my voice.

"Painfully." He smiled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "What's your name?" His eyes held mine, a soft hazel green framed by dark lashes, the same black of his curly hair.

"Kurt." I offered a small smile, closing my book. "What's yours?"

Despite the boy's warm eyes, I was uncomfortable. The boy oozed confidence, but didn't seem arrogant. If he was too self-involved, he definitely wouldn't try talking to me. I wouldn't skyrocket his popularity.

"Devon. But nobody calls me that." He shook his head, saying the name as if it wasn't his own.

"What do they call you, then?" I tilted my head slightly in question, hands absentmindedly playing over the cover of my book.

"Oh, what don't they call me?" He leaned back in his seat, the chair tipping back onto two legs. "Loser, slut, sometimes just 'that kid'." He twirled a plastic fork between his fingers, his words said too casually for what they meant. "But my friends call me Blaine. My middle name. So you can call me that."

I raised my eyebrows, hands stilling on the novel. "We're- friends?"

"Sure, Kurt." Blaine smiled, letting his chair fall back onto four legs, pressing the prongs of the fork to his bottom lip as he thought a minute. "What year are you?"

"Junior. Are you... not a junior?" I pulled my eyes away from Blaine's lips, blushing slightly for reasons I didn't feel like addressing.

"Senior." Blaine laughed, rolling his eyes. "Don't let my height fool you, I'm eighteen."

I laughed with him and blushed further, hearing the higher pitch of my voice and feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"You should... get back to your table. I'm sure your friends miss you." I glanced around, wondering what table Blaine could have come from but not even being able to guess.

"My friends will be fine. My absence, although quite impactful, is something easily gotten over." He smiled, tapping the plastic against his teeth.

I found that hard to believe, Blaine was definitely a major presence. His effortless confidence, his ease of conversation, that smile... "What are they like? Your friends." I added dumbly, looking back to Blaine.

"They're great." He turned, pointing to a table across the room. "Joseph, Samuel, Santana." His voice was too formal, teasing. "Also known as Joe, Sam, and Tana."

Following Blaine's gesture, I saw the three students sitting close together with a piece

of paper being passed between them. One boy was tall, olive skinned with dreadlocks tied at the nape of his neck. Next to him was a fit blonde, one of the dreaded school jackets on, but a friendly smile on his face. The last occupant of the table was a girl donning a leather jacket, all dark eyes and slim figure.

Taking a breath, I turned back to Blaine and nodded. "They seem like- great people." I winced, detecting my own falseness.

Blaine laughed, his head falling back with the sound. I let my gaze drop to the curve of his neck, taking in his tanned skin and a silver necklace that swung with the movement of his body. His laugh filled the cafeteria, and he didn't seem to care that people looked over.

"They are." Blaine nodded as he caught his breath, the tone of laughter still in his voice. "Even better when you get to know them. They're not nearly as terrifying as they seem."

I bit my lip against a smile, shaking my head a little. "I'll take your word for it."

Blaine seemed to take immense amusement in my obvious fear of the seniors, (especially ones that looked like they carried switchblades), and as embarrassed as I was, he looked nice after he laughed. It sounded creepy, but it was true. His eyes were bright, his cheeks tinted pink, a lingering smile on his face that made everyone around him wonder what was so funny.

"So what are your classes like?" Blaine pulled my class schedule from my open folder, looking over it quickly and nodding to himself. Before I could respond, Blaine was filling the silence. "Mrs. Walker sucks." He sighed deeply, looking up for my reaction.

I only shrugged, laughing softly. "I don't have her until last period."

Blaine didn't look back down to the schedule, tapping the end of the fork against the table and looking at me. I knew I should say something, but what? I couldn't think with him around, I was too afraid to say the wrong thing and eliminate the once chance at friendship it seemed like I was getting this year. The cafeteria seemed to slow around them, the only sound audible being the fast tapping of plastic against wood, a near match to the erratic beat of my heart.

"You're taking a writing class?" The moment was over, his eyes returning to the schedule and the volume of the students around them going back to normal. A part of me knew I had over-dramatized what was probably only a fraction of a second, but the other half was focused on the fact that he looked at me. And not just glanced at me like everyone today, whispering about the new kid. No, really looked at me. And I felt like I maybe did mean something here, at least to someone.

It took a moment to gather my thoughts, remembering that Blaine had asked me a question. "Ah, yeah. One of the only classes that seem promising."

Blaine smiled. "You're a writer, then."

I bit my lip, lifting my shoulders in a sort of half-shrug, like I myself didn't know the answer. "I... write. I'm not a writer."

Blaine frowned in confusion. "A writer. Noun. A person who writes?"

I laughed, my hands resting in my lap. "I don't know. I feel like 'writer' is a term for novelists and accomplished authors. I'm just... a person who writes."

He shook his head. "I think the bounds are pretty limitless. You're a writer if you write."

I realized the fact to what he was saying, but I couldn't connect to it. "I want to publish a novel, eventually." It wasn't a personal fact. It wasn't deep and dark and earth-shattering, but putting it out there made me feel exposed all the same.

Blaine was standing up now, and it felt like my blood turned cold. He thought I was weird. For whatever reason, he was leaving. I was admitting defeat, and he hadn't even fully risen from his seat.

"I have a goal, then." He hooked a finger around his necklace casually, smiling as if he was about to deliver good news.

"Please share." Before I die, I added silently, my fingers curling around the spine of my book.

"I will end up in your acknowledgements." He pushed his chair in, and I must have looked lost, because he added further, "When you publish your novel."

He... thought I would publish something. He hadn't read my writing, but he believed it would happen. And it was difficult to grasp, because I wasn't even sure I would make it that far. But he was.

"What would you be acknowledged for?" I looked up to him, and he smiled, already stepping back from the table.

"We have all year to find out."

Friday came, and I hadn't talked to Blaine since school started on Tuesday. I couldn't help but wonder where the boy had been on Wednesday and Thursday, but then hated myself for thinking about it. I hadn't made any other friends, and was beginning to draw back into myself. Maybe I could transfer back to my old school. But I knew that was out of the question, I had left for a reason and being ignored here was better than being bullied there, right?

So I remained quiet, but hopeful. At least if I didn't see Blaine today, I would be able to look forward to the weekend. Going to my locker, I glanced into the small mirror inside. My eyes looked tired. I looked tired. The clear skin I usually took pride in was pale; ruddy color on my cheekbones that made my blue eyes look spacey, out of it.

My confidence was not high, and I looked away from the mirror because it wasn't helping. I pulled books from my locker, not actually sure if they were the right subject.

"Hey, you." It was his voice. Blaine's. Raking fingers through my hair quickly, I turned and smiled a little.

"Hi, Blaine." I wanted to ask where he had been the past two days, but I didn't want to seem intrusive. Clingy.

"Have you missed me?" He was dressed in torn jeans, though whether he bought them that way or they were just worn out, I couldn't tell. A hunter green shirt brought out the lighter tones in his hazel eyes, and made his skin look bright.

"I have." I ducked my head, holding my books to my chest. I had missed him, his smile was infectious and as tired as I was, I was smiling too.

"You look nice today." Blaine leaned against the bed of lockers, clicking a pen in his hand.

I lifted my head, blushing. "You cannot be serious. I look like I haven't slept in days." The last thing I wanted to do was draw my flaws to Blaine's attention, but I was incredulous.

"Why would I lie?" Blaine leaned away from the lockers, taking my shoulders and turning me to face my locker mirror again. "See?"

I did see. I saw my quickly spreading blush and nervous eyes, flitting from my reflection to the floor.

"Sure." I settled for saying, breathing in and pulling a smile with the following exhale. "Enough of your flattery, though." I shut my locker and turned, facing him. I realized I had a good few inches on Blaine, despite the age difference. But the way he carried himself made him seem bigger, while I knew my imperfect posture made me easily overlooked.

Blaine laughed, and he linked his arm through mine, walking down the hall with me. "How are you liking McKinley? Your first week is almost over."

There were a million answers to that question, and I hesitated before responding. "It's okay. I like my English teacher."

Blaine nodded, turning the corner. "Who is it?"

"Mrs. Lynn? Do you know her?" I kept pace with Blaine easily, as foreign as it felt walking arm in arm with someone. But Blaine didn't seem bothered by it, he was comfortable. I wish I knew if he was flirting, but I couldn't tell. He just seemed like the type of person that does this with everyone; no issues with the closeness.

"Oh, sure." Blaine laughed, flicking his curls off his forehead with a small toss of his head, a habit I was beginning to notice. "She doesn't like me because I-" He cut off suddenly, his sentence dissolving into a cough that didn't sound terribly convincing to me. But I didn't press, instead changing the subject.

"A homecoming dance? It's- early in the year for that, isn't it?" The pink poster hung at the end of the hallway, large print advertising the dance and the date, scheduled to happen next Friday. A week from today.

Blaine shrugged. "No, usually they're held at the end of September. Haven't you been to one?"

I shook my head. "No, I haven't."

Blaine seemed floored by this news, coming to a dead stop in the hallway. "What? Why not?" His hand dropped from my arm, and I averted my eyes.

"Because- I haven't had a date." It was barely audible, and I couldn't help but think of what Blaine thought of that. That I was pathetic for never having someone interested in taking me, or that I was a loser for being too shy to ask somebody.

"You need a date to go to a dance?" Blaine held out his hands in question, nearly smacking a sophomore girl as she passed, the stream of students in the hallway filing around them.

"Well- yeah. I mean, no, but- I would like one." I felt my cheeks go hot, and I wanted nothing more for this conversation to end and to be swept into the jostle of the busy hallway.

"Well you've left me no other choice." Blaine's previously surprised look had melted into a grin, his smile curling mischievously. "Everyone, if I could have your attention please!" Blaine took a step back from me, his hands raising to draw the focus towards us. The students milled to a stop, looking at Blaine, and then to me with interest. Oh God. Oh my God.

"What are you doing?" I whispered fiercely, trying not to meet the eyes of the now interested group watching us.

"Shush." Blaine dropped his hands, satisfied with the number gathered around. "Kurt Hummel, my newest, but dearest friend..." He was getting to one knee, and all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. His hand was reaching up to grasp mine, his fingers warm and dry around my probably clammy ones. "Will you go to Homecoming with me?"

I swallowed, and a laugh bubbled from my lips, half nervous and half awed. "I- yeah. Yes." His hand tightened over mine as he smiled up at me, hazel eyes shining and happy.

My classmates were silent, and then Blaine was standing, lifting our clasped hands high like victors. "Did you hear that? He said yes!"

The crowd began to clap, a buzz of chatter filling the once silent hall. Some people cheered and shouted words of encouragement, and I ignored the few tossed insults because I found I didn't care. Rude names meant nothing when my hand was in Blaine's and he was smiling like we were above everyone else. Like they couldn't touch us.

Blaine's arm wound around my waist and pulled me to his side, his laughter mixing in with the noise of the hall but still managing to be the most prominent sound.

"I can't believe you just did that." My voice sounded winded, like I had sprinted a mile. But it was adrenaline, even though Blaine's gesture was small. To someone like me, it was more than meaningful.

"What can I say, I'm a hopeless romantic." He laughed, pressing a hand over his heart. "Emphasis on hopeless."

I was noticing a pattern, Blaine's self-deprecating jokes. In the cafeteria earlier in the week, and now. "So... next Friday, then?" I felt like I needed to reinforce it, like Blaine would slip through my fingers and I'd wake up from a dream.

"Next Friday." Blaine confirmed and stopped us as we approached his classroom, a hand coming to rest on my shoulder for a small leverage as he pressed his lips to my cheek. It was a soft kiss, but it still made my heart flutter. He disappeared into the room, and for a minute I stayed where I was, brushing my fingers over my cheek quickly and then taking a breath, turning to walk to my own class.

Only my second conversation with the boy, and yet I was falling. I was in trouble, I knew it, because I didn't know his feelings. I could only hope I wasn't setting myself up for heartbreak.

When the weekend started, I realized I had begun to keep track of the date by how many days until Homecoming. It wasn't Saturday, it was six days until the dance. With this mindset, the two days off seemed to drag by, though I had been looking forward to them previously. Now I just wanted to return to school and see Blaine.

"Kiddo?" It was Sunday afternoon, and I was only just beginning the homework I was assigned. My dad stood in the doorway, and I swiveled my desk chair to face him.

"Need help with dinner?" I was already standing up, but he stopped me.

"No, no. I just- wanted to ask how your first week was." He asked the question like it was a bomb, the answer the trigger that caused it to explode.

"It was... fine." I replied, sitting back in my chair and nodding a little.

My dad looked a mixture of relieved and disappointed. "Just fine?"

I nodded again, a few more times for good measure. The man adjusted the brim of his worn baseball cap, glancing around my room.

"Is it better than your last highschool?"

I thought about Blaine. "Yeah." I breathed and pulled at a loose string on my shirt. "You can just ask, you know."

My dad looked to me again, his face guilty. "I'm trying to walk around the subject, son-"

"I know." I cut him off, feeling bad instantly. "But you don't have to treat me like I'm fragile. I'm okay, alright? I really am... okay." And I wasn't lying. I was okay, for the first time in a while. Last year, bullying had reached a point that I couldn't tolerate it anymore. I'm ashamed at what I did in result of it, but it was a tool to me now. Even if I still couldn't talk about that night aloud. It fueled me, let me know I was stronger than I thought. Than everyone thought.

"Okay." He smiled a little, sadly. "I'm glad you're hanging in there. That's what your mom would want you to do."

I smiled slightly in return, lacing my fingers together in my lap to give them something to do. We'd lost my mom the winter of my freshman year, and it had a huge impact on my life. I had never been so close to one person, and to have her taken away from me felt like a twisted wake up call. Since then, I was careful who I opened up to. I stopped relying on other people, and my dad had gotten worried. Now it felt like he was a constant presence, and I couldn't exactly explain what his reasoning was because I didn't understand it myself. Whether he was trying to fill the void my mom had left, or trying to keep watch on my health; he had become a lot more involved in my life. "I know." I said softly after the pause, careful to keep the smile on my face.

"I'm gonna go order out some dinner." My dad seemed happy to move on from the subject, straightening again.

"Dad, you know that's not good for your health-" I tried, but he was already leaving.

"I'll order it with a salad!" His voice carried up the stairs, and I laughed a little.

I loved him, I did. And he was trying. We didn't have the same connection my mom and I did, but he was making the effort. And that was enough for me.

Later that night, after the two of us had eaten, I climbed into bed, standing on the mattress to reach my calendar. I drew a thick line through today's date, and then settled back into my pillows. Four days until homecoming.

Well there's chapter one! I'm gonna try to update as often as possible, but with Glee ending this week we'll see how that goes. :/ Hope you guys like (: