AN: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, OH GOSH. My coursework and my thesis own my soul. :( Also I edited this chapter 500 times before I was happy with it. At least it's not terrible now? Anyway, hope you enjoy! (And yes, I suffer guilt at night from the things I put nerd!Blaine through. I just want to wrap him up in a blanket and hold him forever.)

As Blaine walked through the hallway at McKinley the next day he couldn't believe that he had ever considered Mr Shuester's proposal. He had managed to survive his year and a half at McKinley relatively unscathed so far, and this was mainly due to his efforts to keep his head down and not draw too much attention to himself. He was already harassed by the football team; performing a solo for glee club at a school assembly would put him on the radar of every slushie-wielding bully in the school—particularly if he sang a song to another boy. All of his romantic plans from the night before suddenly seemed ridiculous and naïve. Experience had taught him how dangerous a public declaration of his sexuality could be, and he wouldn't just be risking his own safety: he would also be putting Kurt's on the line. Despite the fact that Kurt's status as head cheerleader apparently exempted from the sort of homophobia that Blaine was exposed to every day, Blaine was willing to bet that Kurt's popularity would not benefit from been serenaded publicly by one of the school's biggest nerds.

Without the motivation provided by his romantic fantasy, the idea of performing a solo no longer seemed remotely attractive. So many things could go wrong—and if they did, the whole school would be there to watch him choke. Blaine glanced nervously around at the people passing him and tried to imagine what it would be like if they were all gathered together in one place, staring at him. Just the thought made his knees feel weak. And this time he wouldn't have a cafeteria tray to hide behind if anybody decided to throw things at him. Or laugh. The familiar, bitter feeling of self-disgust settled in his stomach. He was a coward. As much as he loved singing, he knew that he would never be confident enough to be a lead singer. He would never be able to overcome his fear, not with practise nor with unrealistic fantasies of romance and happy endings. Mr Shuester would have to find somebody else to sing the solo.

"Any luck with Mr Shue's list?" a voice piped up behind him. Blaine jumped, experiencing a stab of fear, and then relaxed when he saw that it was only Rachel.

"No," he said despondently. "I can't decide what's worse. Eighties rap or a medley of Journey's greatest hits."

Before Rachel could reply, somebody grabbed Blaine by the collar and slammed him backwards into a locker.

"Nice bow tie, loser," Dave Karofsky hissed in his ear.

Blaine shut his eyes, muscles tensing in anticipation, but the football player released him. Blaine listened to the retreating footsteps and breathed a small sigh. His legs were shaking. He could still smell the tang of Karofsky's aftershave lingering in the air beside him. When he opened his eyes again, he was met with a mixture of shock and concern on Rachel's face.

"This is ridiculous," she said passionately. "I can see how terrified you are. I'm going to go and speak to Mr Shue right now and convince him to change his mind. He can't force you to sing a solo if you don't want to." She turned on her heels and marched away down the corridor.

Blaine tried to steady his breathing. His back was aching from where his spine had been slammed against a metal lock. Blinking back tears, he detached himself from the locker and he walked shakily down the corridor to his next class. Rachel was right. He was just too scared to make himself more of a target by singing a solo in front of the school. All his plans of serenading Kurt were laughable. His life wasn't a romantic movie. He was a loser, not a hero. He wasn't supposed to get the perfect guy and live happily ever after.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. Blaine barely noticed any of it, his mind wrapped in a cold haze of disappointment. By the time he reached his second last class, math, he was so depressed that couldn't even appreciate the black-and-white striped pants that Kurt was wearing that day. For some reason, Kurt seemed equally as distracted. He was absently scribbling in his book and staring out the window with a dreamy smile.

"What's up with you?" Blaine heard Santana ask when Kurt failed to reply to her greeting.

"Oh, nothing," Kurt said. "Just planning my future wedding."

Santana threw him a disgusted look. "Urgh. What is wrong with you? You don't even know this guy."

"I know that he's perfect," Kurt said, sounding slightly smug.

"You haven't even been on a date. For all you know, he could be some creep."

Kurt smiled serenely and twirled his pen in his right hand. "He's sweet and he likes me. And he didn't look like a creep when I met him. You're just sour because Puckerman keeps making eyes at Lauren Zizes."

"Whatever," Santana said, turning away from him as their teacher entered the room.

Blaine was suddenly alert for the first time in hours, his heart thumping so hard that it felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest. He looked around nervously, hoping that nobody had noticed his sudden revival. It wasn't fair that Kurt could make him feel this way with a few casual remarks. It wasn't fair that Kurt Hummel existed, that he had randomly kissed Blaine at a party, that their texting conversations now consumed his waking existence and caused everything else in his life to appear small and trivial. But he did exist. And this was happening. Happening for real.

Blaine gave up concentrating on the lesson and spent the next hour staring at the back of Kurt's fabulously styled hair and planning their future together. They would live in a small apartment in a city until they had enough money to buy something bigger and more stylish. Kurt would propose on their three-year anniversary after a candle-lit dinner, and they would get married next spring. Kurt would plan most of the wedding of course, but Blaine would be in charge of organising the music. He began to compile a mental list of appropriate songs.

A small twinge of guilt interrupted his fantasying. Santana did have a point. Pretending to be somebody else just to gain Kurt's trust was a little creepy, especially since Kurt had no idea that his mystery guy was sitting two rows behind him. But his plan had worked so far: Kurt was interested in him, not just as a friend but as a potential boyfriend. And Kurt thought that Daniel was going to serenade him. Ignoring his uneasy conscience, Blaine hesitantly allowed himself to recall his plans from last night. It could still work. After all, nobody else had to know that he was serenading Kurt.

By the end of the lesson Blaine had made his decision. This was a moment that he would return to in later years: he had to take this opportunity now, or he never would. Could he really spend the rest of his life paralysed by fear and self-doubt? If he didn't have the courage to sing a solo for glee club, how could he have the courage to confess his feelings to Kurt? He was sure that if he backed out now, he would continue to back out until Kurt eventually lost interest or realised that he was not the confident, sweet guy Kurt thought he was. Blaine wanted to be that guy. He wanted to serenade Kurt in front of the school and make him feel special. "Daniel would do it," he told himself as he made his way to his locker after class. "And Kurt likes Daniel. If I can be Daniel when we're texting, surely I can be him in real life too?"

He had just opened his locker after class when Rachel appeared at his side, beaming. "I'm pleased to announce that your worries are over!" she announced. "I talked to Mr Shue, and while he questioned my clearly altruistic motives he agreed to let me sing the solo on Friday instead of you."

Oh," Blaine said, feeling slightly awkward, "I've decided that I want to sing the solo after all. Thanks though," he added when Rachel's face fell. "That was really nice of you."

"Are—are you sure?" Rachel asked. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. You're already such a visible target, what with your hair gel helmet and glasses and the fact that you dress like my elderly grandfather."

Blaine frowned. "There's nothing wrong with my hair gel," he said, patting at his head to make sure that no stray curls had come loose. "It's fashionable."

"Well, anyway," Rachel said. "If you change your mind again, I'll be more than happy to stand in. I already have several ideas for a Journey medley that would guarantee us a win at Sectionals!"

"That sounds great," Blaine said. "I have to go." He escaped before Rachel could say anything else and headed to the staff room. Mr Shuester was sitting at one of the desks, talking to Coach Besite. Blaine cleared his throat and then stopped, deciding to wait for an appropriate break in the conversation. After about ten minutes of hovering awkwardly beside the door, Mr Shuester finally looked up and noticed him.

"Ah, Blaine," Mr Shuester said as he walked over. Blaine opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. "You don't need to say anything. Rachel's explained the whole situation to me and I've given the solo to her. You're off the hook." He smiled and patted Blaine on the shoulder.

"Actually," Blaine said, "I was wondering if I could still do the solo."

Mr Shuester looked surprised. "Of course, if that's what you want."

Blaine nodded. His heart began to hammer distractingly. He forced himself to pause for a moment before continuing. "But I have two conditions."

"Alright. Let's hear them."

Blaine took a deep breath. "I want to choose my own song. And I want to perform outside."

Blaine stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to decide whether he needed another layer of gel to plaster down his unruly curls. Wednesday had turned into Thursday, and Thursday into Friday, before he had really had time to contemplate the consequences of his decision. Now that Friday morning had arrived it was too late to agonise over going through with it or not. He felt like he was running on adrenaline; all his energy was focused on preparing for what was ahead, leaving no mental space for his doubts.

Prompted by Rachel's comment about his outfits, he had decided to put aside his impressive collection of suspenders and vests and instead wear something less obviously, well, him. After twenty minutes of anxious deliberation he had finally settled on red pants and a plain black shirt—though he was unable to resist the temptation to add a bow tie to the ensemble. After all, he didn't want to completely change his style—just alter it enough that Kurt would look past the 'nerd' stereotype and see him as the person he had met at the party. His hair was far too unmanageable to wear it ungelled like he had that night, but he thought that he could possibly recreate the look by going without his glasses. It had taken some practise to insert his newly acquired disposable contact lenses. Now that they were successfully in place, he could definitely appreciate their advantages. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little exposed without the familiar weight of his glasses.

He checked his phone as he prepared to leave the house and smiled when he saw that there was a message from Kurt.

Kurt
'Jeans or TEH for Underground site safety-pin pants, which would look better with a Marc by Marc Jacobs button-up shirt? Not that it matters, since I'll just have to change into my cheerio uniform anyway.'

Blaine had no idea what TEH for Underground site safety-pin pants were, but he greatly approved of Kurt's newfound appreciation of jeans.

Blaine
'Jeans. Though I'm sure you'd look amazing in either.'

His phone buzzed again as he sat down in the driver seat of his car.

Kurt
'Somebody's in a good mood. ;)'

Blaine
'I suffer from perpetual optimism. And something tells me that today's going to be a good day.'

By lunchtime it seemed that Blaine's prediction had been correct. Nobody had shoved him into a locker or made derisive comments about his altered appearance. He had managed to survive all of his morning classes without a single taunt from one of the football players. Now, as he stood at the top of the stone stairs in the quadrangle with Rachel, he found his stomach fluttering with nerves for the first time all day.

"You can still pull out, you know," Rachel said, massaging his shoulders. "Nobody would think less of you."

"I'm not going to pull out," Blaine replied. He felt as though he was reassuring himself more than answering Rachel. An uneasy, sick feeling had settled itself in the pit of his stomach and he had to work hard to try and ignore it. "You can do this," he told himself, struggling with the self-disgust that he always experienced when confronted with his fear. "It's just the same as performing in the choir room."

It was a warm day and the quadrangle was filled with people eating and talking in small groups. Blaine could see a large group of cheerios sitting at a table near the bottom of the stairs. He felt a wave of anxiety when he saw Kurt sitting at the end of the table. He was facing away form the others, typing something from his phone. "Probably texting me," Blaine thought. Somehow this thought made everything seem more real. He really had spent the last two weeks texting Kurt Hummel—the captain of the cheerios. And now he was going to sing to Kurt in front of a whole crowd of his fellow students. A crowd of students who in a few minutes time would all be watching him.

As he was processing this realisation, he heard the drummer tapping his sticks to signal the beginning of the song.

"Gook luck!" Rachel said as she stepped backwards to join the other Glee club members on the stairs.

Blaine found himself frozen with fear. For a moment he thought time had stopped—and then he heard the brass section begin to play the introduction to the song. They sounded small and distant as though they were a long way away. His mouth was completely dry. "Run," a small voice in his mind was telling him. "Don't be stupid! You can't do this!"

He glanced over at his fellow Glee clubbers and couldn't miss the extremely pointed looks Rachel was giving him. It was now or never. The introduction was nearly over: if he didn't sing now, there wouldn't be another chance.

Before he could think any further, he made a split-second decision to slide down the first section of the bannister and dance his way to centre of the stairs. Feeling impressed that he had managed to pull that off (and earned an enthusiastic thumbs-up from Rachel), he forced his awkward movements into rhythm with the beat while his momentarily blank brain attempted to retrieve the lyrics to the song. He scanned the audience, his eyes resting on where the cheerios were sitting. Kurt was looking at him. He couldn't remember Kurt ever looking directly at him. Even when he had thrown that slushie at Blaine he hadn't bothered to glance in his direction. For the first time ever he had Kurt's undivided attention. And then—unexpectedly—everything felt right. He could do this. This was his song—and he was going to sing it for Kurt. Confidence blossomed inside him; he felt a sudden surge of energy that filled his chest with warmth and caused his skin to tingle. Feeling slightly giddy from the adrenaline rush, he launched into the first verse.

"It's not unusual to be loved by anyone

It's not unusual to have fun with anyone

But when I see you hanging about with anyone

It's not unusual to see me cry

Oh, I wanna die."

It was as though a part of him that he never knew existed had awoken. Suddenly he couldn't understand why he had been so nervous. Performing felt amazing. Even though he downplayed his talents in Glee rehearsals, it was hard to deny that he was a really good singer, and—if he could only stop feeling so awkward—probably a pretty good dancer too. And the best part was that nobody was throwing things at him. As Blaine looked out at the crowd of people, he could see that some of them were even smiling and nodding their heads in time with the music—clearly enjoying his performance. He felt a rush of dizzying emotion as he began the second verse.

"It's not unusual to go out at any time

But when I see you out and about, it's such a crime

If you should ever wanna be loved by anyone

It's not unusual — it happens every day

No matter what you say

You find it happens all the time!

Love will never do

What you want it to

Why can't this crazy love be mine?"

He deliberately avoided looking at Kurt as he sang, not wanting to give away the purpose of the performance. He would text Kurt later and say that the song was for him. As the musical interlude began to reach its end, he glanced to his left and was surprised to see Santana dancing beside him. She gave him a wide smile as she mimicked his dance moves. "This wasn't part of the choreography," he thought, frowning. He was even more confused when Santana began to beckon to somebody in the audience. Suddenly a line of cheerios appeared, jogging across the stairs from the left and forming a circle around him. Blaine just had time to register that each one was holding a familiar looking cup, before he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his arms over his face.

It was like jumping into a freezing cold swimming pool. Icy water hit him from all angles, causing him to gasp out loud. His body tensed with shock. All Blaine could register was cold; suddenly he felt naked and exposed, as though he had been interrupted while showering. This was normally a private moment: a slushie facial behind the dumpsters outside the school, or in a crowded hallway where nobody was paying attention. Not out here with a hundred pairs of eyes staring at him. Somebody in the audience laughed. He had no idea if they were laughing at him or not.

Blaine stood there, shivering, as clumps of ice slid down his face and the back of his neck, leaving a sticky trail of whatever bright colour the cheerios had decided would best ruin his outfit. He couldn't process what had just happened. His brain seemed to have frozen from the icy slushie. The band behind him had stopped playing; in fact, the entire quadrangle had gone quiet. And then slowly—as he stood shaking uncontrollably with his eyes tightly shut—people began to talk again. Blaine wiped the sticky liquid from his eyes and opened them. The students who had been watching before had now turned away from him, pointedly ignoring his obvious suffering.

"Blaine! Are you okay?" Rachel said as she rushed up to him, her voice thick with concern.

Blaine didn't reply. He stared down at the table where the cheerios had been sitting earlier. It was empty.

"I can't believe Santana would sabotage our own performance!" Rachel said indignantly as she sponged purple slushie out of Blaine's hair. The girls had steered him away to the girls bathroom to get cleaned up as soon as he had recovered enough from shock. Too humiliated to venture into the boys locker room to shower, he had towelled himself dry, changed, and then meekly submitted to their attentions.

"You're not the only person who would kill to get a solo," Quinn replied, wiping Blaine's glasses clean and then handing them back to him.

"I would never attack a fellow Glee clubber just for the sake of a solo," Rachel announced, clearly outraged. "I may be ambitious, but I also maintain a high professional standards."

Blaine wasn't paying attention. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, feeling completely numb. His worst fears had come true. Instead of improving his self-confidence he had been humiliated in front of the entire school. He hadn't even been able to finish his song. And the worst thing was that Kurt was there and had seen everything. Or had he? As Blaine had avoided looking at Kurt throughout the entire performance, he had no idea when Kurt had left. A sickening thought occurred to him—what if Kurt had helped plan it? He was friends with Santana after all. And he had no way of knowing beforehand that Santana's rival in Glee club was the guy he texted every day. Swallowing and blinking back his tears, Blaine allowed the girls to fuss over him until they were satisfied that he was all right and then slipped away under the pretence of visiting the boys bathroom. He knew that Mr Shuester would be waiting for them in the choir room, but he couldn't face the idea of everybody's sympathy. Sure, they dealt with bullying simply by virtue of being in Glee club, but none of them had ever been slushied in the middle of a performance before. It was just another reminder that he was different—even from those who were also considered social outcasts.

The thought of facing the other students in his classes was equally as humiliating, so he decided to call it a day and just go home. His parents were both at work and wouldn't notice that he'd left school early. They probably wouldn't even notice that he was now wearing a different set of clothes than the ones he had put on that morning. After indulging in a very long, very warm shower, Blaine spent the afternoon curled up in bed, working his way through various homework tasks to distract himself from his misery. There were a few messages on his phone that Kurt had sent in the morning, but he decided to ignore them. Kurt probably wouldn't want to talk to him anymore anyway. The fact that he hadn't sent any messages after lunch was proof of that.

It was already dark outside when his phone buzzed for the first time since he had left school. He picked it up, expecting Rachel or Mike to have sent him a consoling message. To his surprise, he found that it was from Kurt. The message was equally perplexing.

Kurt
 'Do you like school?'

Blaine stared at his phone. He didn't know what Kurt expected him to say. Was this some kind of trick? After a few minutes he sent a reply, feeling apprehensive.

Blaine
'Some days are better than others.'

Kurt's answer was almost instantaneous, suggesting that he had already typed it before Blaine replied.

Kurt
'I hate it. All everybody cares about here is status, as though their entire worth in life is determined by their high school popularity. Like we're not going to leave next year and forget that any of this ever happened.'

This was not what Blaine was expecting at all. He chewed his lip and doodled in the margin of his page while he tried to think of what to say. In the end he decided to feign ignorance.

Blaine
'What's up? Did something happen?'

This time Kurt didn't reply immediately. Blaine went back to his homework and became so engrossed in a math problem that he was startled when his phone buzzed again about fifteen minutes later. Heart hammering, he picked it up and read the message.

Kurt
'Some of the other cheerleaders asked me to help them slushie some glee kid in the middle of a performance today. I told them I didn't want to be part of it and they acted like I was the biggest killjoy who ever lived.'

Blaine had to read the message twice before he fully comprehended it. That was it? Kurt was feeling crappy because his fellow cheerleaders had given him flack for not wanting to slushie a Glee loser? He resisted the urge to type 'Wow, your life must be so hard' and tried to think of something more constructive to say. After about ten minutes of inner turmoil he finally sent his message.

Blaine
'Was the kid okay?'

Kurt was clearly less concerned about this part of his story, as he replied straight away.

Kurt
'I don't know. I didn't stay to watch.'

Blaine threw his phone across his bed and turned back to his math homework, unable to prevent tears from springing to his eyes. A lump had lodged itself in his throat and he tried to swallow it down. The last thing he wanted was to cry over Kurt. After all, Kurt clearly didn't care about him in real life. He was just another glee loser who was naturally a victim of popular people like Kurt. Somebody who wasn't even worth his attention. Bitterness settled in Blaine's stomach, adding to the heavy layer of disappointment that had been sitting there all afternoon. He felt sick and fatigued. After another ten minutes Blaine's phone buzzed again. He retrieved it grudgingly and read the message.

Kurt
'I just don't understand why people have to be needlessly cruel.'

This at least was something they could agree on.

Blaine
'Neither do I.'

He paused for a moment and then typed out another message.

Blaine
'Maybe they're just protecting their status by reminding everybody who's on top and who's not.'

There was no reply.

Feeling even worse than he did before, Blaine pushed his homework off his bed, got changed quickly, and buried under the covers. He turned his bedside lamp off and lay in the dark, his mind full of what Kurt had just told him. His fears from earlier had at least been alleviated: Kurt hadn't been involved in planning the slushie attack. Not only that—he had refused to take part in it. While Blaine was encouraged by this thought, he couldn't pretend to himself that Kurt was some kind of hero. After all, Kurt might have condemned the slushying, but he also hadn't done anything to stop it.

As he lay there in the dark, he realised something that made his heart beat a little faster: Kurt still had no idea who he was.