Once again, many cheers and thanks to the glorious beta of this fic, thiscanvasskin.
And if you left a review last chapter then thank you! Reading peoples' words in response to something I've written is the most rewarding thing in the world for me, and I'm really grateful.
'Blaine, I know you're at your new school now, but I have to tell you something.' Blaine was setting up his desk in his new classroom at McKinley when he received a call from the science teacher at Dalton. He didn't really like the guy, so he let it go to voicemail - he didn't really care about whatever "good luck at your new school" message he was leaving - but he'd finished getting his things out quicker than he'd thought, so he decided to use the couple of minutes before his class started to listen to the message before he deleted it. But when Mr. Lee's voice wasn't its usual brittle and insufferably chipper self, Blaine was intrigued.
'Jeff Hawthorne, from your English class, killed himself a couple of days ago. No-one knows why. I know you were close to him, so I just thought I should tell you. I hope your new job works out.' Blaine stared at the grain of his desk. Jeff had - no. No. That wasn't fair. Tears stung his eyes and he pressed his hand over them, gasping back a sob. He could almost feel his blood run cold.
There was no question that Jeff had killed himself because of Blaine. Because of the way he felt when Blaine had abandoned him.
It didn't work like that! They were left crumpled and torn and unable to trust but they weren't supposed to kill themselves. That wasn't fair. Then they were hurting everyone around them, and that wasn't the point.
He got up and, without looking at the class, headed out of the room. There was a bathroom across the hall, and he hurried inside. In there he gripped the edge of the sink, staring down the plughole, trying not to cry and failing. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Jeff's death had no direct effect on the running of his life, after he'd kicked him so fiercely out of it, but knowing that in Westerville, Jeff was being mourned by friends and family, parents who had to walk by an empty bedroom, a brother who would have to look elsewhere for someone to teach him to ride a bike - that was what made Blaine want to shrink himself down and drop himself in a drain. He knew what it was like to lose someone, and it wasn't fair.
He wasn't supposed to care what happened to his students after he left, anyway. He hadn't heard a thing from any of the others. But Jeff, the boy he'd spent six weeks kissing and touching, the vulnerable and trusting student he'd taken advantage of – he'd taken himself out of the world because of Blaine and that was enough to make even the most immoral bastard feel like the scum of the earth.
Blaine rubbed his forehead, agitated. He thought of the students sitting in his classroom. What did that mean, now? He didn't know how to be a teacher! He knew how to teach, sure, but with that came the flirting and affairs and sex and that was all that got him through the semester. And now, right now, he had to teach a class of seniors, with a fucked-up head and a severely altered agenda. He breathed deeply in and out a few times, trying to mentally prepare himself. Just teach. Just teach them, don't become attached to any of them, don't become attracted to any of them, just - just do what good teachers did.
He stepped back from the sink, jumping up and down a couple of times. He willed the tears to go away, and waited until his face wasn't flushed anymore before turning and walking back to his classroom.
A charming smile appeared on his face as he opened the door.
And he looked straight into the eyes of Kurt Hummel.
Xx
Kurt had been disappointed yet again as he had walked down the corridor and encountered no smouldering Casanovas, armed with candy and love notes addressed to him, lined up by the lockers, but he knew that was silly to even daydream about that happening. He didn't like to think he was desperate for a boyfriend but the occasional long night did have him yearning for someone to snuggle. And the odd Lima Bean rendezvous did have him wishing there were two cups on his table. And the daily Glee club practises did make him want someone to dance with... Well, there was nothing wrong with wanting to be loved, right?
So it was dejectedly and resignedly that he walked into English class that day, glancing once at the unfamiliar being seated at the teacher's desk. He sat down, third row back, on the end, and took his pen out. Sometimes class helped him forget his perpetual loneliness, although, if this new teacher was anything like Ms. Chapman was, he would be forced to daydream himself into depression.
Xx
The boy was beautiful. Blaine blinked several times as he looked at the student, all coiffed hair, jewel eyes and flawless skin. Oh God, if it hadn't been for Jeff then Blaine would definitely be thinking about what the boy would look like in bed, screaming, flushed and writhing, but - oh, wait. He was thinking about that anyway. Stay calm, Blaine, he ordered himself mentally. You're a teacher and you are not attracted to any of your students. Just teach them. Just. Teach. Them...
Xx
Okay, this new teacher was nothing like Ms. Chapman. He was gorgeous and smouldering, and all of those imaginary Casanovas rolled into one. Well, wasn't that fate's way of answering his prayers in the least convenient way possible?
The teacher was looking at him, and Kurt blushed under his gaze. He looked down at his paper and picked up a pen, starting to sketch out a random shape in his margin. He chanced a quick look up at the teacher to see that he was still looking. Why was he staring? Had he already made up his mind that he hated Kurt? Had he never seen this shade of scarf before? Kurt looked around at his classmates, all of whom were eyeing the new teacher curiously.
Xx
Blaine knew he was staring. But he couldn't stop - he had been presented with a drop of heaven and if he looked away then all that would meet his eye would be something less exquisite, and that was painful. He never wanted to look at anything, ever again.
The boy stared back for a short while, eyes questioning and God, if Blaine needed any reminder why he usually fucked his students then this was a damn good one. He just looked so... innocent and young, but completely and totally floating feet above the rest of his classmates, he was an angel and his gaze was something precious that Blaine had to be grateful to have been under it.
It was only when the boy looked around that Blaine remembered where he was and that although looking away might hurt, hey, this was a lesson and there were other, less attractive kids around.
Teach. Teach.
'Good morning, class!' His mouth formed the words for him and the students all looked surprised to hear him speak. 'My name is Mr. Anderson and I'll be helping you study The Merchant of Venice this semester.' He stood up, picking his book up from his desk and walked round to stand in front of them. This would be fine. He had an easy lesson planned. 'You'll all need to have a copy of the play by next week, but for now, I just want you to listen to this opening scene.'
He started to read to the class, keeping his eye trained on his book.
Because he couldn't do it. He couldn't seduce Kurt, could he? Now the possibility had entered his mind that damaging a student like he had been could have harsher consequences than he'd thought - and if he ever drove someone as heavenly as Kurt to harm themselves in any way, then there was no way he would ever be able to forgive himself.
Xx
Cool, fine, the teacher also had a voice like liquid sex. Kurt almost started pouting as he heard Mr. Anderson's chocolate voice wrapping around each line of pentameter. He didn't know why the man had been acting so weird at the beginning of the lesson, but now he had started the class it was irrelevant. He was enchanting.
And of course the first attractive, articulate and mature male Kurt had come across was a teacher. He sighed, slumping down in his seat a little. He could let himself enjoy Blaine for now, he decided, but he had to remember - the man was completely and totally out of bounds.
