Chapter 1
"Bye dear!" Blaine's grandmother Janet calls from where she's lounging in the living room, sipping tea and crocheting for the Girls In Hats project through church.
Blaine, who was just stepping outside, turns around and hurries to his grandmothers side, "Sorry Grams, I almost forgot," He says, leaning down to wrap his arm around his grandmother's thin frame and kiss her rosy cheek.
Janet pats her grandson's cheek in return, "Have fun at work dear," She smiles.
"I always do," Blaine chuckles, "I'll see you tonight. Love you grams."
"Love you too dear. Now get out of here before you're late and Mrs. Lovell gets you in trouble," She remarks, swatting Blaine's backside as he turns to hurry out the door.
Blaine laughs, tracing his footsteps back to the front door while shaking his head. His smile never leaves as he whistles a tune, one that he'd just finished learning to play on the piano. He practically skips to his car, doing a playful twirl when he reaches the driver's side, before hopping in the vehicle. It isn't the nicest of cars, but it was his grandfather's and grams gave it to him last year for his 16th birthday. He's just thankful that he has a car.
As soon as the engine rumbles to a start, Blaine flicks the radio on to the nearest pop station, immediately opening his mouth to belt out the words. He backs out of the driveway carefully and glances in his rearview mirror to make sure the garage door is closed before he starts down the road. Grams is always on his case about closing it.
Halfway to work Blaine glances at his clock, mentally counting how many minutes he has until he'll be considered tardy. Luckily, he always leaves himself a cushion of ten minutes to ensure he's not late. He hates being late. He feels that it's rude and irresponsible and he's neither of those things.
He pulls into his favorite parking spot five minutes early and switches off the car, looking into the rearview mirror to straighten his bow tie and smooth down his dark brown, curly hair, held together with just the right amount of product. He's always nothing less than put together when he's in public.
When he deems himself proper, he slides his keys into the front pocket of his leather bag and grabs it from the passenger seat. He makes his way to the large double doors in the center of a brick building. As soon as he enters, he breathes in and closes his eyes. He loves this place. He loves the atmosphere. This is where he feels at home. His favorite part is the smell. He loves the smell of old books, and new books, and just plain books. Sometimes he wishes there's a cologne that smells like books; he would buy it in an instant.
"Ah Blaine, you're here," A voice interrupts his musing, "I was beginning to worry because you are usually ten minutes early."
"Hi Mrs. Lovell," Blaine smiles cheerfully, heading to the office, "You look extra beautiful today," he charms.
Mrs. Lovell blushes lightly, "Oh stop it you, I'm just an old lady."
"30's not old Mrs. Lovell," Blaine winks, heading off into the back room to check in.
The 59-year-old woman shakes her head, "That boy is something else," She mutters.
Blaine grabs a cart filled with books, and heads between the shelves.
The bell after last period rings and Kurt sighs, carefully placing his books one by one into his bag, making sure not to hurry. He has to time his departure exactly right, or he'll have a run-in with the football players.
He waits a few more moments before picking up his bag and heading to the door.
"Oh Kurt, can I talk to you for a minute?" His teacher calls from where she's sitting at her desk grading papers.
Kurt sighs, so much for perfect timing. He turns around and proceeds to make his way over to his teacher's desk, dreading the confrontation with the bullies that is sure to happen later.
His teacher proceeds to tell him that she's very impressed with his last essay and it's such an inspirational piece of literature yada, yada, yada. Kurt is barely paying attention though, just nodding and thanking her. It's nothing he hasn't heard before. Besides, he's too caught up in his thoughts about how to get out of this hell hole without being thrown into lockers or worse, getting thrown in the dumpster. He'd gotten through the day mostly unscathed and he wants to keep it that way.
Finally his teacher lets him go and he leaves the classroom, taking a deep breath and looking for any signs of the jocks.
The coast is clear from what he can tell so he makes a mad dash to the front doors. The school is already mostly cleared out, only a few stragglers trying to get to their after-school activities. Kurt is about halfway to the exit and he can almost taste freedom. But he's never this lucky.
He yelps as pair of hands grab his shoulders and the next thing he knows, he's on the floor, his back throbbing.
Kurt squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to open them and see his tormentors.
"Open your eyes homo," Karofsky sneers.
Kurt grits his teeth, knowing that if he doesn't do what he's told, it will not pretty. He opens his eyes, immediately regretting it when an icy drink hits his face. Karofsky and Azimio high-five, walking away while laughing. Kurt whimpers.
He stays there for another few minutes, a few tears making his way down his cheeks, mixing with the cherry slushy. His eyes are stinging, but it's not anything he isn't used to.
He figures that the more this happens, the more he'll be able to tolerate it. But, it's still just as bad as the first time. He hates that he cries about it. He hates that he lets it get to him. He shouldn't care anymore. But he does. And he cries. He's an emotional person. On the positive side, the tears help wash the slushy from his stinging eyes.
He finally picks himself up and pushes open the bathroom door, pulling out an extra shirt that he always leaves in his backpack for this occasion. He changes and washes the sticky drink out of his hair, letting the brunette strands dry randomly, not caring anymore. He glances in the mirror. he looks like hell. His hair's sticking up at awkward angles and his eyes are bloodshot. His shirt's wrinkly and he grimaces, quickly looking away.
He exits the building safely and hurries to his car, throwing his bag onto the passenger seat before getting in himself. He's exhausted, emotionally and physically, and all he wants to do is go home and curl up in his bed with a chocolate bar and a Disney movie. But he can't do that because his dad would question him on why he isn't at football practice and he would have to figure out what to tell him and he's just too exhausted for that.
He sighs and makes his way to the place he hides every night after school for two hours until football practice is over. It's the only place he feels that he can go and not have to worry about anyone seeing him, wondering why he's there. Or worse, his bullies finding him there.
He pulls into the parking lot, grabs his bag, and hurries into the building. He just wants to find his table in the darkest corner and hide from the world.
He quickly walks to the back of the building with his head down, swerving through shelves of books to get to his destination. Usually the library is pretty empty. It isn't the most popular place in Lima, Ohio and for that, Kurt is grateful. He doesn't really want to be around people now.
He plops into a chair against the wall, shoves his bag under the table and sighs, closing his eyes for a minute. Peace and quiet at last. He's so tired of high school. He doesn't have any friends there, and nobody except his teachers like him. He may put on a confident show on the outside when around people, but on the inside, he's hurting. It hurts so much that nobody likes him, that nobody pays him any mind. He feels completely and utterly alone. He has his dad, of course, but even so, his dad barely knows him.
Burt thinks his son is the kicker on the football team. He thinks he dates girls and likes beer and baseball hats. His dad thinks he listens to Mellencamp and goes over to friend's houses to play video games.
The Kurt that Burt thinks his son is, is all a lie. If only his dad knew that Kurt goes to the library every night instead of football practice, that he dreams of having a romantic boyfriend someday, that he hates beer, that he despises baseball hats with a passion and much prefers fedoras. If only he knew that Kurt has Vogue magazines hidden under his bed, and he listens to Whitney Houston and has dozens of Disney and theatre movies and soundtracks hidden with his fashion magazines.
He can almost picture the disappointment that would be on Burt's face if he knew half of what his only son truly is.
Yes, Kurt is completely and utterly alone. All he wants is someone to talk to, to laugh with, to bond with about the things he loves and is passionate about. He's so lonely that most nights, he cries himself to sleep. In fact, he finds himself crying all the time. He's so angry and mad and hurt at the world and he feels that one day he might run out of tears all together.
Kurt is startled from his thoughts when he hears his phone chime, telling him he's received a text.
He frowns. The only person who texts him is his dad, and he knows that Kurt's at "football practice" now.
Kurt pulls the device out of his bag and swipes his pass code. The number is unknown and he curiously opens the message.
u beter watch ur faggy little fairy ass homo u got off easy today
Kurt's heart clenches at the words and his face scrunches up. Damn it! I'm fucking crying again! A tear makes its way down his cheek, but he doesn't fight it.
He's never gotten a threatening text from his school tormentors before. He's always made sure to keep his number to himself, not even putting it on school forms. Bullying through text feels like they're invading his sanctuary. He's being bullied in the only place he feels safe and it hurts more than being shoved into a locker.
He's beginning to wonder how much longer he can take this; take life.
Blaine is busy stacking books onto the shelves in the back of the library, humming quietly to himself. He really enjoys doing this. Books are his passion and he can't fathom a life without them. All day he's surrounded by books, whether he's reading them at home for school, or reading them for fun, or stacking them, or just looking at them.
Blaine abruptly stops when a book catches his eye. He reads the title: Modern Physical Organic Chemistry
Blaine smiles, snatching up the book and opening it to the first page, scanning through. He decides it looks interesting enough and weaves through the shelves of books, towards the front of the building so he can check it out and put it in his bag to take home.
As he's checking out the book, the front doors to the library open and he glances up. It's the boy who comes every night of the weekday. Blaine doesn't know his name, but he sees the boy almost everyday and for some reason, he's curious about him. Why does he come alone? Why does he always come for exactly two hours? Why does he always hurry to the back of the building without looking around? Why does he always look so sad? Blaine's so intrigued and he just wants to know more about this beautiful, blue-eyed boy.
A couple of times Blaine's come so close to pushing away his shyness and insecurities and talking to the boy, even if it's just a hello, but he always chickened out.
Today, however, the boy seems even more tired and sad than usual, and Blaine feels his own smile disappear. How can he smile when he's staring at a boy who looks so lost and alone?
Blaine startles from his thoughts when he hears a throat clearing from behind him and he turns around to see a woman waiting for the self-checkout to be open. he apologizes softly and makes his way to the office to put his newfound book into his bag.
He then immediately goes back to his cart of books needing to be shelved.
He knows where the boy always sits and he quietly rolls his cart over to the shelves near the corner, trying to get another glance at the mysterious, brunette boy.
Sure enough, as he peaks through the book shelves, he sees him sitting there, his eyes closed. Blaine takes a moment to really look at the boy. He's truly beautiful. He's kind of like an angel with his skin so pale and without a blemish. Even his hair is angel like. It looks so soft and smooth and Blaine gets the urge to touch it.
Blaine hears a chime and the boy at the table startles, opening his eyes. Blaine watches as the boy reaches under the table and into his bag, pulling out a phone.
Blaine can't help but smile at the look of confusion on the boys face, but it's erased immediately and replaced with a frown when the boy's look of confusion is taken over by a look of pain and fear. What happened? What did he just receive on his phone?
Blaine looks back up to boys face and his breath hitches. He sees tears slowly making their way down the angel's face and Blaine suddenly feels his own tears surfacing. Why is this effecting me so much? It's just a stranger! I've never even talked to him before!
Blaine continues to watch the boy for a minute, the cart of books waiting to be shelved completely forgotten. What should I do? I can't leave him here like this!
He can't stand another minute of this. He needs to see the boy smile. He needs to wipe those tears off his beautiful face and comfort him until he isn't sad anymore.
Something about this boy intrigues him and Blaine can't stand it when the boy cries.
Blaine takes a deep breath and slowly makes his way towards the boy, not wanting to scare him.
Kurt sets his phone down and a small sob escapes his mouth. Will this ever end?
"Excuse me? I'm sorry, I just, I mean, I saw you and...are you okay?" Blaine asked timidly, not wanting to overstep.
Kurt hears a voice and quickly looks up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and sniffling, trying to compose himself quickly, "Of course, yeah. Um...yeah," He smiles shakily at the boy in front of him who looks to be about his age. The first thing Kurt notices are the boy's hazel eyes which looked so sincere and warm. He doesn't want to look away from them, but he's embarrassed about being caught like this so he turns his gaze down to the tabletop.
Blaine sees the boy try to smile, but it's weak. He looks into the boy's eyes, just realizing how captivatingly blue they are, like pools of crystal. The boy looks down embarrassed and Blaine instantly misses his gaze.
A few moments pass by in silence before Kurt feels the table shake a little as the boy sits across from him. His heartbeat picks up and he's suddenly very nervous. Who is this boy and what is he doing? Is he another bully? God, why can't people leave me alone!
Blaine can see how nervous the boy looks when he sits down, and he's about to get up and leave him be, when he noticed the boys phone resting on the table next to his arm. The phone is still lit up and he glances at it without really thinking about how it's probably private. Someone had made the boy cry and Blaine is angry at whoever did it.
Blaine glances at the words on the text and he gasps.
Kurt realizes that the boy has just read his text when he hears him take in a sharp breath. He immediately starts freaking out. What if the boy knows his dad and tells him? What if he's a stupid homophobic like most of the people in Lima? He immediately begins talking, trying to undo what the boy's just read, "It's not what you think! It's just my-my friends and I, we j-joke around and stuff. That's just my friend." Kurt says panicking, wringing his hands.
Blaine listens to the boy's excuse and immediately wants to comfort him, but first he wants to know the truth. If this is what he thinks it is, he has a lot more in common with this boy than he'd originally thought. "Why are you crying then? If you were just joking around?" Blaine asks softly.
Kurt knows he's caught, "I-I," he stutters. The boy offers him a comforting smile and Kurt looks away, "It's nothing." He manages to get out, more bitterly than he had intended. There's a small pause before Kurt asks, "What are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" the boy asks back, confused. Isn't it kind of obvious? I'm talking to you. He thinks
"Yeah," Kurt whispers, "Why are you talking to me?" Nobody ever just talks to him except his teachers and his dad. People usually either avoid him, or pretend he doesn't exist. Or bully him.
"I think I just…well," Blaine starts, "You looked upset and I...Do you need someone to talk to? I mean, I'm a great listener." He adds a sincere smile to the end of his sentence.
Kurt stares at the boy for a moment. He's asking if I want to talk to him about why I'm upset? Nobody's ever done that, not even my dad. Kurt opens and closes his mouth like a fish, not really knowing how to reply. He can't talk about his problems with a stranger can he? What if this boy is one of Karoksy's sidekicks?
As if realizing Kurt's dilemma, the boy quickly cuts through the silence, holding out his hand, "I'm so sorry! You don't even know my name. I'm Blaine."
Kurt looks at the Blaine's hand before timidly shaking it, "I'm Kurt."
"Kurt," Blaine echoes, and Kurt likes the way it sounds rolling off his tongue with ease.
Kurt smiles a little less shakily than the last time. There's no way Blaine knows Karofsky. He's too polite.
There's a silence between them for a minute, both just kind of looking at each other.
Finally Blaine says, "So um...are you okay? I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but..." he trails off, a hopeful look on his face.
Kurt thinks about it for a minute. Should he tell Blaine? He's known him for only a couple of minutes. He really just needs someone to talk to though. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep all the bullying bottled in. And maybe the best person to tell is someone he'll never see again.
Kurt clears his throat, "Y-You read the text."
Blaine nods slowly, gulping.
It's quiet again before Kurt speaks up, "I," He clears his throat, "I don't know."
"It's okay Kurt. I know that we barely know each other. You really don't have to tell me. I just...saw you so upset and I...I guess I just want to help," Blaine says nervously.
Kurt just stares at him, "You want to help?" he asks incredulously.
"Well, I mean I..." Blaine trails off, trying to figure out what to say before settling on, "Yeah."
"Why?" Kurt whispers, playing with a string on his shirt sleeve.
"I don't know," Blaine whispers truthfully, and then says louder, "I just do. And you look like you need a friend to talk to."
"Yeah, I don't know Blaine. I don't know if I can trust you." Kurt says bitterly, putting up his walls, "I don't know you at all, why would you help me?"
Blaine is silent, still trying to figure out that for himself.
"I know, 'you don't know,'" Kurt scoffs, "I have to go."
And before Blaine knows it, Kurt is gone and he's left at the table alone.
Kurt hurries out of the building, feeling worse than when he had arrived. Why did I have to be such a bitch to Blaine? It seemed like he was only trying to help. Kurt slams his car door and hits the steering wheel with his palm, resting his face on his hands. As much as he wanted to tell Blaine everything, he couldn't. He doesn't let people in easily and he doesn't like being seen so vulnerable.
Kurt turns on the car and looks at the time. an hour before football practice is over. Kurt sighs and turns off the car. He'll just have to wait in here because there is no way he can face Blaine now.
It takes a moment for Blaine to figure out what had just happened. It seems like Kurt, that's such a pretty name, was maybe going to open up to him, but then before he could even blink, the boy was running out the door.
Blaine wanted to call after him, stop him and bring him back to the table, but he didn't want to push him. Obviously this is a serious subject, judging by the text Kurt had received, and Blaine didn't want to open any wounds or anything. He just wanted to help Kurt, but he didn't really know what the boy wanted or needed. Did I maybe push too much?
Blaine sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He thinks he knows what Kurt is going through. He'd gone through the same thing at his old school years ago. Bullying and being called horrible names like the ones in the text. It makes Blaine feel sick that Kurt is going through this and all he wants to do is stop it all.
Blaine is finally happy after years of fighting and he wants Kurt to be happy too. He wants to see Kurt smile. To see his beautiful eyes light up. Maybe I'll see him tomorrow? He always comes on Fridays.
Blaine stands up, That's what I'll do. I'll try again tomorrow, but maybe start with a light conversation so we can get to know each other and he'll trust me.
At that, Blaine hurries back to his cart of books and begins shelving again, thinking about what he will say to Kurt tomorrow.
Kurt waits in his car for an hour, not really doing much. He can't get Blaine out of his head though. Nobody has ever shown him such kindness.
At 5:15, he pulls out of the parking lot and makes his way home, A Whole New World playing lightly from his speakers. He opens the front door and makes his way downstairs to his bedroom, changing into comfy clothes.
"Kurt! Dinner's here!" his dad calls down the stairs.
Kurt sighs and slowly makes his way back upstairs, carrying his homework that is due tomorrow under his arm.
"Hey dad." Kurt says quietly, pulling out some spinach and a red pepper from the fridge for salad.
Burt drops a greasy cheese pizza onto the table and grabs a beer from the fridge, "Want one kid?" He turns to Kurt.
"Dad, I really shouldn't be drinking alcohol. I'm underage." Kurt states, pouring himself a glass of water.
Burt shrugs and falls into a seat at the table, immediately grabbing two slices of pizza, not caring that some grease had dripped onto the table.
Kurt quickly wipes it up with a napkin and sits down, stabbing his salad.
"You can drink as long as I give the okay." Burt says, popping a corner of pizza into his mouth.
Kurt doesn't reply. He doesn't want to tell his dad he thinks beer is revolting.
"How was football practice?" Burt asks through his mouthful of pizza.
Kurt tries not to cringe at the fact that his dad is talking with a mouthful of food, "Great," he lies.
"I'm sorry that I can't make it to your games kid. I really want to get to at least one of them, but for some reason the Anderson's insist that I only work for them when they are gone, and unfortunately, Friday's the only night both of them are gone. The job pays too well for me to turn it down," Burt takes a long swig of his beer.
Kurt's eyes flick to his salad, "I get it dad. It's okay." He says, feeling guilty that he's lying so much. When Burt had come to Kurt mid-week to tell him about a new job he had gotten, working on the Anderson's yard, Kurt had been relieved. He didn't know what he would have done because obviously his dad would be at the football games and realize his son isn't actually on the team. He 'd decided his only option was to cross that bridge when he came to it, but luckily the problem is solved.
"No it's not kid and I want to make it up to you. Saturday night, you and me, we're going to a Buckeye's game."
Kurt inwardly cringes. He hates going to football games with his dad. He always has to try to act interested, when in reality, the sight of huge, sweaty men tackling each other makes him want to be sick.
"Yeah, sure," he says, trying to act excited.
"You don't seem like you want to go. Why not?" Burt asks, eyeing his son.
"No, no!" Kurt quickly says, "It's just, they better win. They've played so poorly lately and it's hard to watch them embarrass themselves." He covers up.
Burt laughs, "Well, we'll see. They're playing the Dolphins who haven't had the best year either."
Kurt smiles, although it probably looks more like a grimace, "I'm going to go do my homework."
"Alright kid. There's a game on later tonight, so be quick."
Kurt hurries out of the kitchen, bringing his books back downstairs with him. He was originally going to work on his homework upstairs, but now he just wants to be alone.
Kurt almost smiles at the irony. He's so lonely, yet he want's to be alone now.
Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what y'all think and whether it's worth continuing because if y'all are interested, I've got a bunch more for this story.
xoxo