The next morning, roused again by the pesky alarm clock, Kurt woke and dressed for school. An eerie feeling took hold in his gut that the day would be difficult, but he shook it away. It was only his second day at McKinley, there couldn't possibly be anything wrong yet.
He was wrong.
After slogging through the rain and dashing to Algebra, he cursed the people who assigned his schedule. His mind was far too muddled for math so early in the morning. History flew by, considering the teacher was too busy napping at his desk to care about teaching. Language Arts was a breeze for Kurt- an essay assignment. As an aspiring writer and designer, his creative mind allowed for easy ideas to come through and show in his work.
In gym, everything went to hell. Team sports were most certainly not Kurt's forte, as was demonstrated in the class. Volleyball nets were strung across the gymnasium, and Kurt suppressed a shudder at the sight of them. A classmate took noticed and chuckled.
"Not much for volleyball, huh?"
Kurt grimaced.
"That obvious?"
The boy laughed.
"Nah. You just gave it away."
The boy extended his hand.
"Puck."
"Kurt."
Puck walked with Kurt to a side of the gym further into a corner. Puck lined up the perfect pass to Kurt, who fumbled it awkwardly and let it bounce to the ground. The other boys on the court around him shot him dirty looks, and his face heated. The next couple of passes were aimed far away from him, but one happened to come his way and hit him squarely in the jaw.
He gladly sat on the sidelines and watched, hearing the coach call the players sloppy babies when they so much as stepped wrong.
After a quiet lunch spent with his friends Mercedes and Puck, he entered biology. The day before there had been a substitute and no lesson, but the teacher was back and all business. He motioned for Kurt to take the empty seat toward the back, and Kurt stiffened when he saw who his lab partner was to be.
Blaine Anderson.
Kurt slowly made his way over to the other boy, feeling as if he was sweating bullets the whole time. He sunk into his seat, noting the other boy's stiff posture and the hand placed over his mouth and nose. The other was clenched into a tight fist, the knuckles flashing a stark white against his tanner skin. His eyes seemed to be an angry black, discouraging conversation. Kurt discreetly sniffed his hoodie, mortified that the other boy could be offended by his choice of fabric softener or soap. The lesson passed quickly, and as soon as the bell rang Blaine was out of his seat, bolting to the door as fast as he could go. Kurt looked after him, half-tempted to ask what his problem was. He decided he didn't have the will to, and made his way off to study hall.
The next day, Blaine was nowhere to be seen.
Kurt kept an eye open, but didn't see the dark haired boy.
The rest of the week passed in similar fashion, and the weekend was a dull passage of time, mostly spent at his sketchbook.
On Monday, Blaine was back. Gone were the black eyes shooting daggers at him, the tightly clenched fists, the covered nose and mouth. In their place was a genial smile and brightly shining amber eyes, complete with easygoing posture.
He sat openly angled slightly toward Kurt, smiling softly when he sat down. Kurt sat stiffly, his eyes trained toward the whiteboard at the front of the classroom.
"Hello."
His voice was a deeper chime, pleasantly light and soft.
"Hello," Kurt ventured.
"I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself. I'm Blaine Anderson."
"Kurt Hummel. Do you have multiple personality disorder?"
Blaine laughed.
"No, I'm not that interesting. I just have a roguish appearance and a bad-boy complex everyone seems to fawn over. Between us? That's just for show."
Kurt relaxed.
"You weren't here most of last week."
Blaine nodded.
"Camping trip with some family. Last minute plans and all."
"Did you get contacts?"
Blaine forced out a laugh.
"No, why would you ask that?"
"It's just… your eyes looked a lot darker when I last saw you. And now they look… light."
Blaine nodded.
"It's the lightbulbs. At some angles my eyes look really weird."
Kurt wasn't convinced, but let it slide.
"Okay. I believe you."
His companion laughed.
"Why do I not believe you on that?"
"Because I don't. But I'm willing to trust you on this. If you say it, I shall believe."
Kurt snickered at his pompous tone.
"Alright, archduke. Do your worksheet."
Kurt had completely forgotten about the worksheet they were supposed to do, and it lay neglected on the corner of his desk. He sighed, pulling it toward him. The content was something simple he'd been drilled on in California, and he breezed through it. He relaxed when he finished, staring idly at the clock at the front of the classroom. Puck swaggered over to him, slapping his palms on Kurt's desk.
"So Kurt. Where ya from? Clearly ain't from dear ol' Ohio."
Kurt grinned at Puck's fake accent.
"California, actually."
Puck looked appalled.
"Cali? Aren't people usually, like, really tan in California?"
"The usual. I'm part albino."
Puck nodded.
"Cool. How's it feel to be the mayor's kid?"
Kurt grimaced.
"Weird. I get a lot of odd looks."
It was true. When Kurt was out, especially with his father, people would stop and stare at him with slack jaws and judging eyes.
"You'll probably get used to it, dude."
"Yeah."
Puck straightened up.
"I'm gonna head back over. Got work to not do."
Kurt laughed.
"See you, Puck."
As soon as Puck was gone, Blaine turned to face Kurt.
"California, huh? If I may ask, what brings you to our corner of nowhere?"
"My mom. She's… sick. Wanted some space to recover."
Blaine nodded.
"I'm sorry. When you speak to her next, wish her a fast recovery for me, would you?"
"Yeah, she'd like that. Hearing that I have friends."
"Not so popular in sunny Cali?"
A nod.
"When you're the weird albino gay kid, people don't want to associate with you."
Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes, taking him off guard.
"I know exactly what you mean."
The bell rung and Blaine waved goodbye, leaving a mildly confused Kurt still standing back at the desk.