Something New:

a story of Klaine 'firsts'

Don't forget to submit a 'first' for me to write!

~First night apart, prompted by MissMarauder93

Usually, Blaine wasn't the fussing kind. He was cool, calm and collected, a skill he had learnt at great expense early in his move to Dalton. Before Dalton, he'd felt things a bit too much, cared too much, and that had hurt him. That had hurt a lot of people. But now – now he was cautious.

Which is why it shocked him so much when, the moment he'd gotten home and shouted a greeting to his mother, he'd slipped his phone out of his pocket and scrolled straight down through his contacts, stopping suddenly on 'Kurt' with his thumb hovering over the call button.

Because, seriously: huh?

"Are you hungry, honey?" his Mum called from downstairs, making Blaine pause in his bedroom door, bag still slung over his shoulder and eyes still fixed on his phone.

"Not right now – I had a coffee with Wes and David after school. Could dinner wait for a bit?"

Blaine didn't quite know why he was lying – or, if not lying, omitting from the truth – but his thumb was still poised over 'call', confusion addling his thoughts.

"Sure, I'll leave your plate in the oven for a bit."

Blaine nodded but didn't reply, stepping forward into his room and pushing the door closed. He moved slowly to his desk, placing his phone there and staring at it for another few seconds before shaking his head and turning around to extract his laptop from his bag.

Why on earth had he been going to call Kurt? He'd only met the boy this afternoon, and it wasn't exactly like they'd exchanged numbers with the promise to call every day. Or even to call at all. At the time it had been more of a precaution – "Just in case you ever need someone," Blaine had said, pushing his iPhone across the table – a kind little gesture offered in the spirit of peace and fellowship. But they weren't friends. They were barely even acquaintances.

And yet...

Blaine felt an uncomfortable anxiety bubble inside him as he stole another glance at the phone. His fingers searched absently for his charger, and when they bumped against the plastic chord it took him two attempts to actually pick it up and plug it into his computer. He was distracted and uneasy and wanted to call Kurt, and that very desire made him even more distracted and uneasy.

It was strange, though, wasn't it, to meet someone like that? The memory of Kurt on the stairs – how one moment he'd been another pair of shoes on the floor and then suddenly he... wasn't.

Blaine had gotten used to keeping his head down wherever he went, not that he needed to at Dalton, but it was sort of common practice for him now. It wasn't that he lacked confidence or was scared or anything like that, and in fact mostly he did it to keep a low profile, because not everyone was happy about him having taken so many Warblers solos in so little time.

Yet, no matter how unlikely it was, Kurt had noticed him. Kurt had talked to him, voice sure but posture shy, as if he didn't quite know how to hold himself in a school like Dalton, didn't quite know what to expect.

Why me? Blaine wondered, sitting down at his desk. Why not the boy in front or the boy behind?

It felt somehow... karmic? Maybe not quite that, maybe just coincidental, that out of every single person, Kurt had picked Blaine. Out of everyone on that staircase – everyone in the school, even – it had been Blaine he'd stopped, Blaine he'd asked for directions.

But maybe it wasn't such a coincidence.

After all, he'd probably set Kurt's gaydar off the charts, and it would make sense for Kurt to want to stop him – the similar one, the safe one. And meeting with him afterwards made sense too, asking Wes and David to go, talking to him in private, it all made perfect sense, and yet Blaine couldn't shake the feeling that something about this was off.

It felt too intimate, too close, too claustrophobic. Blaine was the type of person who made friends easily – and why not? he was charming and charismatic and most importantly kind – but this thing with Kurt was different. Kurt had seemed lost, searching. Blaine felt like maybe he could help him, maybe in that moment when he'd grabbed Kurt's hand – a gesture that came so easily, because Blaine was honestly just the touching type – Kurt had found something, just a little piece of what he was looking for. Like maybe, as he'd watched the Warblers sing and dance and enjoy, he'd been a part of something that he'd never truly let himself join in with before.

Kurt was lonely, Blaine decided, still sitting silently at his desk. Not just bullied and hurt, but lonely, in the truest sense of the word. He'd been craving attention, needing it the way Blaine needed it, because as long as people were watching him, he knew he was safe. In a crowd, on a stage, when perfectly practiced words were coming out of his mouth, Blaine always felt safest. Even if it was just rehearsing with the Warblers, there was a feeling of unity and strength. It had nothing to do with homophobia, it was all about togetherness.

For all his life, Blaine had loved being in the spotlight – that feeling he got when he was centre of attention and he was good, and everyone knew he was and- yes, that was what he loved. When he stood in front of an audience and performed, it was as if he was physically touching people – holding them – and they were gripping back.

Blaine had the distinct impression that Kurt was a person who needed to be held.

It was strange, really, that he felt so far away from him – like he very well should be calling Kurt now – because they had been this distance apart for all of Blaine's 16 years. Now, the only difference was that he was conscious of it. Never before had he been aware of this strong, scared boy, so never before had he had the chance to be want to see him, help him, make sure he didn't disappear into the 6 billion other people crowding the planet.

Because Blaine knew what it was like to be in the middle of crowd, and yet utterly alone. He'd recognised the expression on Kurt's face, the shudder in his voice – he'd been down that road before. Yet Kurt clearly had the potential to be a star – he was one of a kind, one in 6 billion – but for the hour that Blaine had known him, he'd barely shone at all.

And, God, it was stupid, but Blaine hated that. He hated that he'd gotten off, that he was back to the life he loved where he could perform and be tolerated and be liked, whereas Kurt was stuck in the real world, which just wasn't ready for people like them.

That was why it felt intimate, Blaine told himself. Because Kurt was a boy who deserved to be great, and Blaine had seen that in his smile, felt it in the way he'd held his hand. This was someone who was used to being bullied, but who shouldn't have to be. And Blaine alone was probably the one person in Ohio who could do something about that.

Moving quickly so that he wouldn't psyche himself out, Blaine grabbed his phone, still showing Kurt's name, and tapped the call button. He held it by his ear and listened to the first two rings, heart hammering harder than it should've been.

"Hello?"

"Kurt?"

"Blaine?"

Kurt's voice said the word awkwardly, like it didn't quite roll of his lips properly yet. Blaine couldn't blame him. It wasn't exactly a common name.

"Sorry, is it a bad time?" Blaine asked, left hand moving nervously to run over his laptop.

"No, I'm just finishing off my French homework. What's up?"

It was awkward between them, and that was the first thing Blaine wanted to get rid of. If he was going to help this guy, really help him, in only the way someone who'd been through it all before could, he'd have to make sure they could talk without this strange tension hanging over them.

Forcing himself to smile and dragging his left hand down to rest on his knee, Blaine said, "It's silly, really. It's just- I got home and was thinking about what you'd said and everything, and then I realised – I don't even know your last name."

On the other end of the line, Kurt exhaled, and just like that the strained edge to their conversation lifted a little.

"It's Hummel," he replied. "Kurt Hummel."

"Well then, Kurt Hummel," Blaine repeated, liking the way Kurt laughed at it, "how are you?"

"I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. I'm good. It was- it was nice to talk to someone about it all, you know? Someone who maybe understands it a bit more than... everyone else?"

It ended up coming out as a question, and Blaine hastened to assure Kurt that he knew what he meant.

"Yeah, that's what I found. Coming to Dalton was great for that actually, because so many of the kids actually wanted to be there. That's what makes it different to public schools I think, people actually care about the school and each other and-"

"Are you being paid to say this?" Kurt cut in. "Because I can tell you to stop the spiel now – I'm already sold on the wonders of private school."

Blaine was pleasantly surprised at Kurt's sarcastic tone, and it made him think of that boy across the table – such an impossibly long distance that could so easily have been breached if only Blaine had reached out and-

But, no. Holding hands while guiding someone down a hallway was one thing. Holding hands while sitting alone at a table was something else entirely. Sometimes, Blaine still had trouble knowing where to draw the lines.

"No, I'm not being paid. I'm sorry though, I'll stop. What I meant is I get what you mean. About having someone to talk to."

"I know," Kurt said. "I was just teasing."

"Well you shouldn't," Blaine answered, a smile in his voice. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude?"

And, huh? He was flirting. Not outrageously, but still...

On the other end of the line, Kurt was silent for too long, and Blaine desperately wished he could take it back. Too far! his mind screamed. He's looking for a friend, a mentor, someone to talk to. Don't start hitting on him, you idiot!

"God, sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean-"

"No, no, it wasn't you. It's just, my Mum, um- she's dead. She died. A few years ago."

Oh, shit. Well, a great flirt you are.

"Oh, Kurt I'm so sorry. I just... God. I'm terrible at this. You're not Christian are you? Because I'm probably using the Lord's name in vain way too much as well..."

"No, not a Christian. I'm gay guy in Ohio actually, so I thought you'd have guessed as much."

"Never hurts to ask though," Blaine defended, grateful that the uncomfortable moment had passed. "So, Kurt Hummel-"

And Kurt laughed again and that shouldn't have sounded as nice as it did.

But Blaine could just picture that scared boy with the wide eyes and spidery hands – picture his whole face splitting into a doubtlessly swoon-inducing smile and him laughing, really laughing, letting his whole body go, letting all of that anxiety, that pain, that worry just disappear and-

Woah.

Stop.

"Yes?" Kurt prompted.

"I don't even know. I just like saying your name."

He could almost hear Kurt rolling his eyes.

"Look, Blaine, if you really didn't call for anything else, other to find out my last name, I really should be-"

"No, don't hang up yet."

Blaine was surprised at how his voice sounded – almost desperate, almost pleading.

"Okay..."

"I just- I wanted to break the tension, or whatever, between us. I get that we're both gay and that's rare in Ohio, but just because we've met doesn't mean it has to be awkward or anything. In fact, it probably means we should band together – pack mentality and all that."

"Blaine, usually a pack mentality is talking about groups of bullies and how they all like to gang up on their innocent victims. Pack mentalities are usually a bad thing. You know, with, like, hyenas teaming up to bring down the baby gazelle?"

Kurt's tone had that sarcastic lilt again and it was condescending but it was also hot. Because, God, if he wasn't flirting then he was just a really good conversationalist. Maybe he was both.

"Okay, you're right. I more meant- I don't know what I meant. I just think it makes sense for us to be, well, friends. I want to help you, Kurt. I don't want you to go through what I went through, and even if I can't stop the bullies, I can give you someone who'll listen. I promise. Anything you need, I'll be there for you. As a friend, or a mentor, or whatever you want me to be."

"Friend sounds good," Kurt murmured, his voice suddenly breathy in a way that shouldn't be allowed.

"Friend it is then," Blaine confirmed. "Swear that you'll call me or text or something if anything else happens – anything else."

"Anything?" Kurt asked, almost teasing again.

But Blaine needed him to know this, needed him to get that this was a long-term thing he was committing to. If meeting Kurt before hadn't convinced him, this conversation sure had: Kurt deserved to be protected. He deserved to be happy and safe and like this, and Blaine was going to do his utmost to make that happen.

"Anything," Blaine repeated emphatically.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Kurt's words were a warning, but he was doing that thing again where his voice sort of... deeper? Something-er. But Blaine had promised to be a friend, that's all, and he'd have to stop letting it get to him every time Kurt's tone changed.

Shifting on his chair, Blaine opened his mouth to say something back when he was stopped by a knock at his door.

"I have to go," Blaine said quickly, hating that it was so sudden. "My- uh, my parents want me down for dinner. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Hopefully not, because that will mean I've been bullied again!"

"I'd like to talk to you anyway," Blaine pointed out. "Whether or not you've been bullied. Just call, or I'll call, or something. Or maybe we could go out for coffee and talk more. As friends."

"Coffee with a friend sounds good," Kurt said, and his tone was warm.

"Good. See you soon, then."

"Soon."

Blaine hung up as his mother finally gave up knocking, opening the door a crack to peer inside. Grabbing his headphones from his pocket before she could see, Blaine made a show of putting them away again, turning idly as if just noticing the noise when she knocked tentatively once more.

"Sorry, Mum," he said. "I didn't hear you." He gestured wordlessly to his pocket

"I should've known you'd be listening to music. I just came to say that your father's home. We could have dinner together."

Blaine frowned, "Him and me?"

"All three of us. I'd only half finished when he arrived."

"Okay," Blaine stood, tucking his phone into his pocket as he followed his mother out of the room.

Dinner was silent and uncomfortable as always, but Blaine took his time, refusing to let it get to him. Halfway through the meal, while his Mum was still poking at her broccoli, he felt his phone buzz and, with a glance at his parents, pulled it out to read a text from Kurt.

Just ate dinner. It was spaghetti bolognaise, cooked by my Dad's girlfriend. Delicious. (You said I could text you about anything, right? :P)

Blaine grinned, and his parents exchanged a look. Swiftly, he texted back, That dinner sounds great! Does she put chilli powder in the bolognaise? It tastes amazing if you add just a pinch while it's cooking. (Anything)

"New friend?" Blaine's mother asked.

Blaine shook his head.

"Just Cameron, asking about Chemistry homework."

His father kept his eyes fixed stonily on his plate, saying nothing.

...

Later that night, showered, shampooed and exhausted from far too much homework, Blaine collapsed onto his bed, checking his phone where it lay on bedside table one last time before switching off the light.

It was crazy, really, how much things could change in a day. Crazier to think that Blaine had no idea, besides a strange little inkling, just how much they had.

Because that night, Blaine fell asleep thinking of the empty space beside him on his double bed. He fell asleep thinking of bullies and public schools and stepmoms and spaghetti bolognaise – all the undiscovered miracles and terrors in a world far away from his sheltered Dalton life. For the first time, he fell asleep with Kurt Hummel on his mind.

Thanks again to Dylan8 for beta-ing at such short notice and to 'Sherry' the anon who pointed out a couple of other mistakes!