CHAPTER 2

The daze that was both from catching his still swollen shoulder on the locker and from meeting Blaine (though it was more due to the latter than Kurt wanted to admit) lasted until just before lunch, when his painkillers abruptly wore off halfway through French.

He couldn't risk taking more ibuprofen in class; the last time he'd tried not only had the teacher caught him, he'd also spent the next two weeks fending off taunting jeers about it being 'his time of the month'. As if.

So he had to wait, although being able to vent at Azimio in French definitely helped. But by the time the bell rang, he was gasping, hands shaking as he swallowed the pills down in the privacy of a locked bathroom cubicle. He doesn't normally venture into the bathrooms - the temptation of introducing his perfectly coiffed hair to a toilet bowl would, he's sure, prove too much for some of his fellow students, and god, that's not going to happen to his hair ever again if he can help it.

It was bad enough that his poor locks were subjected all too regularly to sticky iced beverages, and he was not about to let other kinds of sticky in there. The memory of the last time that happened still made him shudder.

So he escaped the bathrooms before his medication had properly kicked in, which he really knows is a bad idea, but he couldn't stay in there. He hurried to his locker, placing the heavier books inside to lighten the pressure on his shoulder while he anxiously waited for the pain to ebb away.

The hand that then clapped down on said shoulder really does not help things.

Just about containing a yelp, he turned to face Mercedes pointedly.

"'Cedes, what have we said about touching the clothes?" He asked waspishly, still reeling from the sting of her hand. Rolling her eyes, the shorter girl held her hands up defensively.

"Chill, Kurt, it's just a sweater." She said, and he glared at her.

"It is not 'just a sweater', Mercedes. This is Marc Jacobs 2008 winter collection!" He snapped, and she smiles knowingly at him.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He glared at her a little more before turning back to his locker, knowing that if he met her gaze for too long she would notice his discomfort. He could practically sense her rolling her eyes as she leant against the locker next to his.

"Anyway, are we going or not? I want my tots!" She said, a little too cheerfully, after several seconds of silence. He shot her a suspicious glance, but smiled slightly to let her know that she was forgiven, and with a beam she linked her arm through his, as always not noticing his half wince as she dragged him eagerly towards the canteen and her precious tater tots.

Kurt had decided that today was not a salad day. He wasn't sure why, only that it was not. He picked listlessly at his plate, poking at the limpid, wet green stuff with his fork and wondering why on earth anyone would want to eat the sickly salad the school provides.

"Kurt, that guy over there is waving at you…" Tina's curious voice broke through his thoughts and he blinked, before turning in his seat to follow her gaze. Only to come face to face with Blaine making his enthusiastic way towards him, beaming.

"Hey Kurt!" He greeted him cheerfully, good god, how is it possible to have this much energy? before nudging aside Kurt's bag and plopping down in the seat next to him.

"Oh, wait, do you mind if I sit here?" He asked suddenly, eyes widening as he realised that there are other people, all currently staring at him agape, besides Kurt.

He glanced at Kurt pleadingly, and he sighed, cursing himself for not being able to stand up to those damn puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes, Blaine, it's fine. Ignore them, someone with as much energy as you on the first day back to school would blow the mind of any sane person." He said primly, turning back to his salad and pointedly ignoring Mercedes' questioning look. Blaine relaxed, running a sheepish hand through- no, over his hair, seeing as Kurt was pretty sure it would take at least six showers just to convince Blaine's hair that it was in fact hair and not solid.

Great, now he's thinking about Blaine in the shower.

"Hey guys! I'm Blaine, I just transferred here." He smiled, his energy toning down a notch while the others around the table introduced themselves, seemingly caught in exactly the same daze that had captured Kurt earlier.

Mercedes, Tina, Mike and Sam all nodded at him, apparently unable to say anything other than their names while Kurt eyed his salad curiously again.

"Kurt, why are you eating that?" Blaine asked suddenly, having abruptly ducked down close to eye the wilted leaves with much the same slightly disgusted look that was on Kurt's face earlier. Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Because it's lunch time, Blaine. Generally, people eat at lunch time?" He replied sarcastically, trying to keep his heart in his chest, dammit when Blaine's mouth quirked up.

"Well, yeah, but… that doesn't look all that appetising." He explained doubtfully, and that time Kurt did roll his eyes.

"That's the thing, it's cafeteria food. Since when does any of it actually look appetising?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Blaine, who wrinkled his nose. He actually wrinkled it and god if it wasn't the most adorable thing Kurt had ever seen.

"Good point. I miss Dalton food already and it's only the first day!" He moaned, but the glint in his eye let Kurt know that he was joking. Shaking his head at him, he turned back to face the table only to find all of the others staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Which, in retrospect, he may as well have.

Because Kurt is not friendly. He does not chat with new transfers. He does not really talk to people unless they ask a direct question. And he most certainly does not banter.

In short, Kurt is antisocial and extremely private, so comfortably talking to Blaine is not normal for him. Hence the second head.

"So, Blaine, how did you meet Kurt?" Mercedes eventually asked, turning her gaze from Kurt when she realised that he's not about to give her an answer. Blaine looked at Kurt, an unspoken question in his eyes. Almost imperceptibly, Kurt shook his head as Blaine turned back to the others.

"Just this morning. I ran into him by his locker. I know it seems like we're really friendly, but I think that's just me!" Blaine grinned, and Kurt shot him a thankful look, feeling a rush of gratitude that he didn't mention Azimio's shove.

Tina raised an eyebrow at him, which Kurt ignored in favour of viciously attacking his salad with his fork, while Blaine glanced between Mercedes and Tina, and Kurt, who was on the receiving end of some rather threatening 'we will talk about this later' looks.

"Um… anyway, what do you guys know about the glee club here?" Blaine asked, breaking the awkward silence. Kurt continued to glare at his plate as everyone else's attention immediately snaps back to Blaine at the mention of glee.

"We're all in it. Do you like singing?" Sam asked excitedly, gesturing. Blaine's face broke into the most brilliant smile Kurt had seen so far - which is really saying something - and he nodded eagerly.

"Yeah! I love singing. I was in the glee club at my old school, and it was awesome. We were like, rock stars or something," Blaine answered with enthusiasm, and Kurt could see answering smiles blossoming on the others' faces; Blaine's happiness was contagious.

"Well, you could come after school today to try out?" Mike asked, grinning, and the others agree while Blaine nodded with fervour. Kurt waited for it.

"Kurt, you should come too," bang on time, Mercedes turned to him pointedly as he sighed again, shoving the remains of his salad away and deciding to just go hungry.

"No. We've been through this, Mercedes. The answer is and always will be no." He answered, glaring in response to her reproachful look.

"Come on, Kurt, you'll enjoy it! And I've heard you humming the Sound of Music to yourself, I know you can sing," she said, with Sam, Mike and Tina nodding like bobble head toys behind her as they gazed pleadingly at him.

"No. I don't sing, Mercedes. End of." He said dangerously, standing and heaving his bag onto his shoulder. They looked disappointed, but they didn't push it. They knew not to. And while Blaine seemed gentlemanly enough to realise that it was a sensitive topic, he heard him asking about it as he left, feeling a slight sting of betrayal as they hurried to explain Kurt's aversion to joining glee to Blaine.

But they don't know the real reason. He had never told anyone why he didn't sing, why he hadn't sung with anybody but his mother for eight years.

Because Kurt Eleryn has many secrets. One of which was that he loves singing. Another of which was that he really wanted to join glee club.

And the most recent of which was that he also really, really wanted to hear Blaine sing.

Kurt was really not sure what he was doing. Well, he knew he was walking down the hall, very slowly, because it was the end of school and he got to go home. Yay.

But he also knew that his feet were taking him in the direction of the choir room, in the direction of Blaine's faint laughter, which was echoing in his ears. He scowled to himself as he stopped by the door, staying hidden from view as he scuffed the floor with a booted foot.

He really shouldn't have been here. He can't be late home, which was exactly what was going to happen if he stayed any longer. He knew that, and he knew what would happen in painful detail if he was late, and yet he couldn't tear himself away. He could hear Blaine, right there on the other side of the wall, introducing himself, hear that stupid teacher prattling some nonsense of welcome, and he knew that soon Blaine is going to open that beautiful mouth of his and sing.

He only had so much self-control. He loved music; he loved Blaine's speaking voice. He was not about to give up the chance to hear a combination of both. Steeling himself already for what will happen when he gets home and desperately hoping that even though it was a week day he'll be out, he leant against the wall by the door, waiting.

"So, whenever you're ready, Blaine." That was the teacher, Mr Schue…ster? Everyone seemed to call him Mr Schue, and Kurt had no idea what his full name was. He didn't really care either, because at that moment the music started and Blaine started singing.

"You think I'm pretty, without any make-up on,

You think I'm funny, when I tell the punch line wrong

I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down."

Holy fuck. That was unfair. Seriously unfair. This boy was too damn perfect for his own good.

"Before you met me, I was alright but

Things were kind of heavy, brought me to life

Now every February, you'll be my valentine, valentine."

Kurt was frozen in place, listening to the words as they fell from Blaine's lips with unbearable perfection and sweetness; just the right hint of sexiness for the song mixed in there too.

"Let's go all, the way tonight

No regrets, just love

We can dance, until we die

You and I, will be young forever!"

Kurt knew it was risky, but he couldn't resist tilting his head around the door so he could see and instantly he knew that he was not the only one thinking that Blaine was brilliant; his own amazement reflected back at him on every watching face. Because Blaine was brilliant, his whole being lit up and thrumming with simple pure joy as he revelled in the simple act of song and dance.

"My heart stops, when you look at me, just one touch

Now baby, I believe, this is real

So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"

Kurt was mesmerised, and he suddenly felt the need to open his mouth and sing himself; the sheer happiness that filled Blaine's face as he sang almost convincing Kurt to sing. Almost.

"My heart stops, when you look at me, just one touch

Now baby, I believe, this is real

So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back!"

It hadn't escaped Kurt's notice that while Blaine's voice was impossibly beautiful, much more so than his own, he could all too easily imagine a duet between the two of them. And it would sound fantastic. His eyes roamed around the room as Blaine finishes, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to join in - even if it was Katy Perry.

His eyes fell on the clock, widening at the time. He was already half an hour late, and it would take him a good twenty minutes to get home. He was screwed. Utterly screwed.

He let out a soft swear, and turned to leave hurriedly, catching his toe on the cheap lino of the floor.

"Kurt?" He froze.

"Kurt?" Blaine was still trying to catch his breath, the exhilaration that always comes from performing still rushing through his veins and making it hard to do anything but smile, but his ears pricked at the mention of that name.

He pivoted on one foot, spinning to follow everyone else's gazes, audition and performance instantly forgotten when he sees Kurt standing in the door way, rigid.

"Kurt?" he repeated, curious but suddenly overwhelmingly pleased, embarrassed and worried that Kurt probably heard at least some of his performance. Kurt glanced back over his shoulder, eyes wide and stricken. He met Blaine's gaze for a brief moment, something unreadable flickering in those blue depths before the taller boy turned on his very stylish heel and fled, leaving the rest of the glee club, Blaine included, half reaching after him.

"Well, damn." Blaine turned to Puck in surprise as the guy slumped back in his seat, wearing an irritated look that is reflected back in varying degrees across all of the other member's faces, including Mr Schue's.

"Don't give up, everybody! He seems to be showing an interest now, so we should work out a plan -"

"We asked him again today at lunch, he said no again and stormed off." Mercedes interrupted Rachel, who stammers to a halt, looking thoughtful.

"So why did he turn up here?" Tina wondered curiously, remembering just how angry and closed off Kurt's face had become at the mention of singing, just like Blaine was.

"Maybe 'cause of Blaine?" Sam suggested, and everybody turns to stare at him, Blaine feeling a flush creep up his neck as almost instantly everyone's eyes flicker back to him.

Rachel approached him, wearing a frankly alarming expression on her face that reminded Blaine of some kind of small, predatory cat far too much for comfort. He backed up, and then she pounced.

"So! He likes you! I bet he does! This is excellent, not only do I now have someone who can actually come close to matching my standard for duets, we have bait!" Rachel exclaimed, Blaine gulping and trying to ignore Puck's fruitless attempts to suppress laughter at his expression.

"Um… bait?" He has known the small whirlwind known as Rachel Berry for all of five minutes, and she has managed to both befriend him and terrify him in equal amounts. She nodded furiously.

"Yes! We've been trying all year to get Kurt to join, he would be a wonderful addition to my backup vocals-" She began to explain, before Mercedes interrupted her again.

Interrupting seemed to be the main way of trying to carry on a conversation with Rachel.

"He's got a brilliant voice, and I've seen his iPod playlists. Full of musicals. He would really enjoy this, I know he would, but he's so…"

"Stubborn?" Sam supplied for her, and the club sighed. Blaine frowned in confusion as he processed their words.

"Wait, how do you know that he can sing?" He asked curiously; from the sound of it Kurt didn't like the mention of singing, and he didn't think overhearing him humming a few lines of the Sound of Music like Mercedes had said was really enough of an indication of how well someone sang.

Artie suddenly spoke, the awe struck expression on his face very clear.

"He sings in the shower. For some reason he was using the school showers when we got back from football practice late one time, and he was singing and… wow. I didn't know a guy could sing that high." Artie shook his head, awe melding with disbelief at the memory.

"So he's a countertenor?" Blaine asked, brow furrowing. Given how naturally high and lyrical Kurt's speaking voice is, it made sense. He suddenly desperately wanted to hear Kurt sing. Ever since he had seen Kurt when the boy had been shoved across his vision by a jock, Blaine had been completely enraptured by him. The way his features were still so delicately beautiful even when screwed up into a grimace of pain, the way his eyes were defiant even through that pain… his eyes were the most startling colour Blaine had ever seen; blue and green and gold and grey, ever shifting in an endless kaleidoscope.

And while he knew it was probably ridiculous, he could not help the way his heart is still leaping at the thought of Kurt liking him.

"We think so. And we really need new members, so he would be perfect! And you, Blaine, are going to help us get him!" Rachel took control of the conversation again, still grinning at Blaine as he blinked back to reality.

This was proving to be both a very intriguing and stressful first day.

Kurt ran. He didn't know why, but he ran and he didn't stop until he reached his Navigator with no inkling of how he actually got there.

He wrenched the door open, his mind in complete turmoil all the way home despite his frantic efforts to calm himself down, intellectually aware that he was not only overreacting but also completely freaking out but unable to prevent it.

Because when they called out his name, when he met Blaine's eyes, he very nearly crumbled. The urge to turn, smile, ask if he could join, compliment Blaine on his singing, wow everyone as he knew he could with his own voice, ask to sing a duet… all those thoughts, those images had flashed through his brain in a second and he had very nearly given in.

It had been all he could do to tear his eyes away, sure that if he had stared any longer into those pools of golden hazel he would have most definitely caved.

And that could not happen. That could never happen. His walls, the one's he had built up around himself, are vital. He couldn't live without them, couldn't let anybody tear them down, couldn't let anybody past them no matter how much he might want it.

Kurt was terrified. So, so, so, fucking terrified of how quickly Blaine has gotten under his skin already. He didn't know what would happen if he let Blaine closer. He only knew that that was not allowed.

With a note of surprise, Kurt noticed that he had reached his house and neatly parked his car outside, which looks thin and cold and angry as he stared at it, against the backdrop of the steadily darkening sky.

He glanced at the dashboard and could not help but let out a little groan as he realised that he was nearly an entire hour late. Steeling himself, he slowly exited his car, pulling his bag from the seat and shifting it on his less injured shoulder, walking up to his door and locking the car with mechanic movements as he locked himself away, wary and yet expectant as he opened the door.

Slowly, he walked through the hall to the kitchen, the stairs and promise of safety no more than three feet away when his booted foot clinked against a bottle, the noise echoing painfully loud into the silence.

He looked down; dread curling around his heart as he retreated even further down the hallway, watching as if from the end of an impossibly long tunnel.

An empty bottle.

He looked up, cast his eyes about as he lowered his bag to the floor, turning as he searched.

He caught a movement from the corner of his eye, and turned instinctively towards it.

And that was when the fist slammed into his gut.