Disclaimer: Glee isn't mine.
A/N: This story is set loosely in Season 2, however Kurt is a sophomore. Blaine is also a year older than him and thus a Junior.
It wasn't exactly unusual to see a person out of the trademark uniform on the compound of Dalton Academy, especially early on a Monday morning. After all, a good portion of the student body took advantage of the weekends to go back home, and of course, there were a couple of day students at the institute, although, given the fact that the school was a bit of a distance away from a town in any direction, the non-boarders amounted to about five percent of the student population and were usually composed of new freshmen too nervous to live away from home. It usually took only a semester but sometimes the entire school year to convince them that they were better off boarding, and then, the cycle began again.
So yes, it wasn't exactly strange to see someone out of the Dalton Academy uniform, but when that person was taller than six feet and wore a red and white jacket boldly emblazoned with the name of a different high school, persons tended to do a double take. Blaine Anderson was one of those persons.
It was barely seven in the morning, an extremely early time for a boarder to be up, but since they had a full schedule that day, Blaine and his friends usually took breakfast early so they could have a bit of relaxation before the hustle of their classes began. And that was exactly where he had been going, books in hand, heading to one of the recreational rooms that every building possessed before his attention was caught by the odd jacket. He stopped, and moved closer to the floor to ceiling window for a better look. And he was not the only one. Students milling about the grounds all paused or stared at the giant teenager as he slowly ambled up the pathway, one arm slung across a significantly smaller boy (actually in the uniform), who was tucked tightly into his side. The boy didn't even have a bag on him, but a glance upwards showed that the jock (for everything about his posture screamed it) had a bag casually slung over his shoulder. The teenager's full attention seemed to be on the person beside him, and after a moment, Blaine focussed on the Dalton student, trying to discern, even from the distance, who the boy was.
He jumped a bit when Nick whistled beside him, following his gaze out the window. "Who's the giant?"
"I'm more interested in the guy with him," Blaine murmured, even as Wes and David appeared around him as well, curious about what had distracted him.
"He's a brave one," Wes stated after a moment, as the giant bent his head to rub his cheek against the top of the smaller boy's head, laughing when he received a smack, "having his boyfriend walk him to class like this."
"Plus he's in the wrong uniform," Nick added.
Dalton's dress code allowed, within reason, for modifications to the official school uniform. Persons could opt out of the trademark blue blazer in favour of waist coats or even sleeveless, V necked sweaters. However, every last student was expected to don the full uniform on the first day of the week. The boy had ditched the blazer, and didn't even have on a tie. What was he playing at?
Blaine's eyes narrowed as the pair got a bit closer. "Does anyone know who he is?"
"Planning to go all prefect on him?" David teased, even as Nick answered, "I've never seen him before."
"Neither have I," Blaine returned, and that was saying something. Blaine prided himself on the fact that he knew every last student at the Academy, if only by face, if not name. He was just one of those persons who had to offer a friendly word to everyone, and all of the students indulged him in it, especially given his star status within the school.
"He may be new then," Wes suggested, his words seemingly confirmed as the smaller teenager turned away from his companion to look around him with wonder. Every student bore that expression on their face at one point or another, but given that it was February, the novelty of the ground's beauty should have worn off for all but a new student by now. That in itself was strange. He could understand someone transferring in January, at the start of the new term, but in the third week of February? That was weird on so many levels.
"His balance is off," Blaine said, his eyes drifting down the expanse of his body.
His friends glanced at him for a moment before scanning the unknown student. Having experience with dancing thanks to the glee club, within moments, they all noticed it. Although the boy was leaning heavily on his companion as he walked, there was a slight awkwardness to his movement, as if he was not entirely certain of where his centre of gravity was. A part of Blaine snidely noted that he would be fine if he would not allow the giant to grip him quite so tightly, but the more logical side of him wondered if, given the way the taller teenager was leaning almost imperceptibly himself, he was not compensating for the boy's seeming inefficiency. Blaine huffed, deciding that the boy was one of those clumsy ones who needed to be guided for their own safety – much like Jeff, who apparently had not yet noticed that his friends were not with him if his absence was anything to go by. But really, did the boyfriend have to hold on so tightly?
The pair eventually came close enough to the building that the watching Warblers would easily be spotted if they looked up. Nevertheless, Blaine was certain that the pair was fully engrossed in their little chitchat, although, on closer inspection, he saw a small but noticeable frown on the Dalton student's face as he nodded in annoyance at whatever was being said to him. Obviously he was being warned off about getting to close to others, he thought. Jocks like him were notoriously overprotective. It made him wonder why on earth the smaller one had chosen to come here, to an all-boy's school of all places. Was it some silly game to garner his boyfriend's jealousy?
Finally they came to a stop, almost directly under the foyer. Thankfully, the giant had not decided to walk him straight up the stairs as well, otherwise Blaine would not have gotten the chance to observe their goodbye, although, why was he so curious about it? He dismissed that absent thought immediately, if the pair were brazen enough to come all this way together, they had to expect that they would be watched.
Their faces were blocked from his direct view now, but he clearly made out the way the jock's hand rose to gently cuff the other boy's face in a way he assumed was supposed to be endearing. Beside him, Wes made an "aww" sound as he reached out and gently looped the messenger bag around his boyfriend, going so far as to situate it properly while the Dalton boy stood there passively. Seconds later, Blaine saw what he had expected...or maybe not. Given the amount of affection that had passed between them, he had fully expected to see the smaller teenager be pulled up into a kiss. Instead, the jock bent down and carefully wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, the latter tiptoeing slightly to wrap an arm around his shoulder. Blaine's eyebrow quirked at that, especially when they had to break away suddenly to prevent the bag from slipping off him entirely. The jock looked concerned as he straightened it, while the latter waved a hand at him.
They chatted for a moment later, before the Dalton boy started shoving lightly against his chest with his left hand, before pointing in the direction of the parking lot. His meaning was clear enough. The jacket read "McKinley High" followed by a few words that he could not make out from his present position. However, he knew a bit about the school; they had started a glee club the previous year, although the Warblers had yet to secure any footage of their performances. That school was over an hour away from here, and given the time, and the amount of traffic that would surely be about on the main roads, the jock would have to hurry if he didn't want a tardy. But then again, he noted, jocks like him rarely got into serious trouble. He'd probably be able to drop his boyfriend off like this every day without a concern for his academic record. And he would probably take advantage of that. It was guys like him that made Blaine grateful more than ever that he was in Dalton now, where everyone respected each other and the rules. Someone would have to explain that to the new kid if he made this a habit. He could more than afford to have his overgrown boy toy drop him off at the parking lot instead of making this grand show.
It was aggravating.
The jock was walking off now, his steps considerably quicker now without his companion pressed against his side. Blaine dismissed him immediately to focus on the boy still standing there, a hand gripping the strap of his bag. All of Blaine's thoughts left him immediately. The boy's face...his emotions were plain to read on it, and what he saw startled him. The boy's face was drawn with concern, and a deeper emotion that Blaine could not quite read. He looked as if he wanted to call out to the jock, to come back to his side, and he bit down on his lip in a way that had to be painful. The expression briefly cleared when the jock paused and look back, as if sensing something wrong, but by the time he did that a broad, but obviously fake smile plastered itself across the Dalton boy's face until the jock turned around again. The new kid stood there until the jock was fully out of sight before turning and walking beyond Blaine's view.
With nothing more to see, Blaine allowed Wes to tug him away, only half hearing what his friends were now talking about, buy vaguely noting David was questioning just why they had stood there so long, with Nick answering that it was because of Blaine. He gave a non-distinct response at that, his mind still dwelling on what he had saw, and more importantly why, despite all of his dark thoughts earlier, he could not get the image of the boy's face out of his mind.
The new kid was the topic of the day at the Academy. From those who had seen his morning walk with the jock, to the fact that he was out of uniform and yet not a single teacher said a thing to him about it, to those who had had morning classes with him, by lunchtime, every Dalton student knew of him and were glancing around the dining hall for a sign of him. Blaine did not contribute anything to the conversation, as he settled at a table alongside several other Warblers. He wasn't one to gossip about others, but he did listen. The new kid was quickly making his way into infamy, he decided. All of the teachers seemed to know him personally, and the math teacher, who abhorred the mere sight of technology, had not uttered a word when the boy had pulled out some sort of word processor alongside his calculator and proceeded to use it for the duration of the class. Blaine's curiosity was piqued at that; perhaps the new kid was a relative of one of the higher ups in the school. It would explain why he was known to them and was seemingly being given leeway. But then again, that didn't really make sense. His uncle was on Dalton's school board, and so Blaine was rather well acquainted with the relations of Dalton's most prominent persons and he was certain that he had never seen the new kid before.
"What year is he in anyway?" a sophomore further along the table asked. "I mean, he was in Maths with me, but Justin had him for Chemistry, so maybe he's a Junior?"
"He was in French with me," a senior boy added, "and he put half of us to shame by the end of the class."
"A mixed schedule isn't that strange," Wes murmured beside him, and Blaine nodded.
He, alongside his friends, had a combination of classes. Dalton was flexible that way. If you knew enough for a level, you could test out of the class, with credit, and get placed into a higher one. Given that no one claimed to have had him in a freshman class so far, Blaine was certain he could eliminate that as an option at the very least. And since it was rarer for a person to be in a class lower than their level, Blaine was prone to assume that the new kid was a sophomore, an extremely apt one at that if he had qualified for a senior class. If that was the case, perhaps he would end up in a class with him?
And surprisingly, that turned out to be the case.
The lunch hour came and went, and soon enough, he was settled into his usual seat in Literature, leaning forward over his desk so that he could have a whispered conversation with Nick and David. It was Nick who first noticed that Mr. Kentwood had not yet arrived, even though the bell had gone off five minutes ago. That in itself was strange. It was a rare occasion when a teacher was late for class, and one would definitely not expect it from Mr. Kentwood, one of the sternest teachers at the institute. Something had to have happened to the man, Blaine decided, if he was bordering on seven minutes late. A next minute passed before the classroom door opened, and an abrupt silence settled over the room as the man walked in, alongside the new kid. What was most surprising was the fact that the man had a small smile on his face as he spoke to him, although it faded into his normal stern demeanour when he reached his desk.
"I apologise for the delay gentlemen," he said without preamble, "there was an administrative matter that I had to handle that went a bit over the lunch hour. As you can see," he continued, gesturing to the new kid who was awkwardly standing there, clutching at the strap of his bag tightly, "We finally have Kurt Hummel among us. I trust that you will make him feel welcomed. Kurt? Why don't you settle in over there?"
The boy nodded, and quickly shuffled over to a desk in the far corner of the room, next to a window.
Most of the boys followed his movement, but Blaine's attention was riveted by the rather odd wording of the teacher's statement. What on earth had he meant by "finally" he wondered? He did not have much time to contemplate though, for, as if determined to compensate for the lost time, the man pulled out a marker and dove headfirst into the day's lesson. Halfway through the class though, Blaine found his gaze drifting to the left where the new kid – Kurt Hummel, he mentally amended – was seated. His eyebrows raised a fraction as he saw for himself the validity of some of the gossip exchanged over lunch. There really was some sort of device on the boy's desk, and occasionally, he tapped something into it with his left hand. Was there a reason for it, Blaine wondered before redirecting his attention to the teacher. Eventually the man assigned them a bit of in-class reading to do regarding their current novel, before moving to where Hummel was. More than one person blatantly stared as he crouched down beside his desk, having a whispered conversation with him. Then, their teacher dipped down into the boy's bag, retrieved something that Blaine identified as a Kindle, before handing it to the boy who gave him a small smile in return.
"I don't hear pages turning gentlemen," he said, without looking up, and guiltily, Blaine refocused on his own reading, even though his mind constantly replayed the scenario.
Between his efforts to actually follow the assigned reading while still contemplating on the strange occurrences surrounding the new kid, the rest of the class flew by. Unlike his friends, Blaine actually took the time to store away his belongings neatly. Yes, it usually meant that he was among the last to leave, but this time, it actually allowed him to hear Mr. Kentwood state that he would reassign him to a seat on the right during the next lesson. With nothing left to do that would not make it obvious that he was eavesdropping, Blaine left the classroom, deciding that he simply had to unravel the mystery that was Kurt Hummel.
By Tuesday afternoon, the novelty of the new kid had mostly worn off. As it turned out, Kurt was in three of his classes so far, which gave him copious amounts of time to discreetly observe him and fail to truly figure out why all of the teachers were treating him so...differently. Although, he amended, Mr. Kentwood had treated him like everyone else after that first class, although he did keep his promise and switched him to a seat on the right of the classroom, once more by a wall. He had even posed a question to him, and Blaine had found himself mesmerised by the soft yet angelic tone that erupted from the boy's mouth. It was only then that he had realised that he had never heard him speak before, and truly, even though it had only been two days, he had never seen him interact with anyone.
But then Wednesday came, and Kurt did not show up for class. And, as far as he had heard, not a single teacher seemed at all perturbed by that fact. Wednesday blended into Thursday and then Friday, but Kurt still did not turn up. By the second day of absence speculation had been rife that he had transferred back out of the school (with Blaine wondering why he felt mild disappointment at that fact). But the weekend passed by, and Monday morning, with a strange sense of déjà vu, Blaine watched as Kurt slowly made his way up the pathway, the giant once more by his side, although this time, he had only a loose hold around his shoulders. Their goodbye was briefer this time, though it still bothered Blaine the length of time the pair embraced. The angle was slightly different though, and Blaine found his breath hitching abruptly as a startling realisation hit him. Hummel had one arm wrapped around the jock like before, but this time, Blaine could clearly see his right side. His other arm – the one not around the jock - hung limply by his side, and looking closer at it, Blaine was certain that that limpness was not natural.
Everything clicked into place then.
The jock always carried his bag.
His walk was slightly off balanced.
He never wrote but relied on a device to type on.
He only used a Kindle in the classroom – never an actual textbook.
His book bag, although clearly designer, had Velcro fasteners rather than zippers and snaps.
He never wore the complete uniform.
None of his classes (so far) involved any manual labour.
He always had to be seated in a position that allowed him free movement of his left arm.
The answer was obvious. Hummel's right arm was paralysed. A feeling of unease settled in Blaine's stomach a moment later. His instincts were telling him that Hummel was not born that way, which begged the question, just how had the teenager lost the use of his right arm?