Cadenza

By: RavenHeart101

Summary: Summer camp is something that Puck always dreaded. When he accidentally signs up for a football and music camp he's stuck sharing a room with the one person everyone else seems to hate. The gay kid from Marion Middle School.

Disclaimer: I am gladly NOT Ryan Murphy. Songs belong to the respective owners of Let It Be. The prayer belongs to the Catholic church.

Warnings: Slash (male/male), swears, homophobia, mature themes, gay bashing/bullying, parental issues, sexual situations, sex, substance abuse on minors, smoking with minors, ect.

A thanks to those who reviewed: Goldstars4me (Nothing's wrong with crying! Promise! I have an endless amount of tissues ready in case you ever need to cry. :D), lillikitty (Poor Blaine just needs a break. Yeah... he's going to get talked to about those self harm tendencies he has...), Runaway-Luv (A tad... Haha. Understatement much? Although I guess I could have made it worse. XD I'm glad you approved of it.), PmYuna (Haha. So you enjoy the angst? Great to know. I'll keep it in mind. -winks- Are they? I hope I had EVERYTHING to do with that. Greyson's a good guy, he's just confused and worried.), Aledda (My darling, I am so sorry for give you nightmares! Will you ever forgive me? Oh I very much hope so. -sobs in worry- But, anyway, I'm so happy you have questions (that'll be answered eventually). Please keep 'em coming.), Salem Fae Carrol (Just a tad sad. Hey I rhymed! How awesome am I? Haha. But, really, thanks for the compliment. It means a lot.), eaglegirl1202 (I'm so happy you read both this and LandP. I honestly like this story so much better than LandP. It had so many plot holes. Hate myself or that. But WELCOME! Please, feel pressured to keep the reviews coming.), Soleil Mar (Welcome back. I missed you. I'm so sorry for making cry. -hands a tissue- It'll all turn out okay... eventually.), and LukeorMarch (I seriously love you right now for reviewing every chapter. It means so much. My heart is bursting out of my chest for you, you wondrous human being.)

A: N – Still alive! This chapter is just going to be guaranteed as being long and... yeah. Hopefully enjoyable?

Here we get the reason as to why Dani and Lily are fighting, some mature decisions and discussions, cute moments, realization of feelings, and Wes. Love Wes.

Blaine blinked up at the roof, turning his head to the right and willing the boundless "Get Well Soon" cards to burst into flames. Like any of the people at camp – besides Lily, Greyson and, maybe, Danielle – cared what happened to him. Like anyone from school cared how he was. Like anyone in his family gave a damn how he was doing.

He stubbornly pursed his lips, steadily ignoring Greyson's imploring presence. His brother was asleep, slumped forward in his wooden chair with his chin resting on top of his chest. He had a steady line of droll falling from the corner of his mouth and a crinkled forehead, much the way Blaine tended to have when sleeping nowadays. The worried Anderson forehead. Blaine hated it.

He frowned when Greyson shifted, hurrying to close his eyes, only realizing that he was too late when Greyson's hand tapped his arm in the way it always did when Blaine was caught pretending to sleep. But, Blaine being the person his was, kept his eyes closed as tightly as they could be kept closed. He didn't want to look at his brother. He didn't want to have to apologize for putting him through what he put him through because Blaine was embarrassed enough by it. He was embarrassed by the scratch marks that had broken skin. He was embarrassed by the screaming and yelling and crying and praying. And he was embarrassed by the nightmare that he had ever since he had seen that rabbit in the sink.

He forced down the bile as it rose to his throat, finally opening his eyes when he let out a loud cough from holding his breath too long. Or what Blaine thought was from holding his breath too long but soon learned, when he kept on coughing, was actually the proof that one could make themselves sick from crying too hard.

Greyson forced him into a seated position, his own hazel eyes lightening the way they did whenever he was angry or worried and his face creasing with a concern that Blaine had only ever really seen on his brother's face. That sort of concern that only family has a right to have.

"You okay, Bee?" Greyson's face was right in front of his and Blaine almost found himself holding his breath again. But, seeing what it had prompted the last time, he figured he shouldn't do that and forced himself to let out both a shaky nod and breath, avoiding Greyson's eyes as much as he could.

Only that didn't work out so well since Greyson purposely searched out his gaze, holding it as long as he could. "Are you okay, Blaine?"

And, okay, Blaine got it. Greyson wasn't just asking him if he was done coughing up a lung but he was asking him if he was okay. If everything from the night before had been pushed into the background. If he wasn't about to freak out again. If he wasn't about to start screaming and crying and begging God to save him from his sin. And Blaine wasn't quite sure if he was going to do any of those things or not. But he was sure that if Greyson didn't... do something he was. He wasn't sure what it was that he wanted Greyson to do but he was pretty sure he'd figure that out as the day went on.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled to the wall behind Greyson's shoulder. He couldn't take looking at the concerned gaze any longer. Or the pitying gaze. He couldn't deal with it. Because he was wrong. And if he was wrong than he didn't deserve any of the pity or concern Greyson would readily throw his way.

"Don't be." Greyson sat back in his seat, letting out a long suffering sigh, yet keeping his hand steadily on top of Blaine's arm and squeezing. "You really scared me, Bee." And because that wasn't totally what he had been trying to avoid.

He shut his eyes tightly once more, pressing his lips together so that he formed a straight line and letting the apology force its way through again. "I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't have to be." Maybe Greyson had said it or maybe he hadn't. It was so soft Blaine could have simply made it up. "I'm sorry, Bee."

And now Greyson sounded on the verge of tears and, for some reason, that didn't settle right with Blaine's conscience. He had nothing to be sorry about. Greyson hadn't done anything. "You didn't do anything."

"Maybe that's the problem." Greyson shrugged, shifting in a way that Blaine knew was his way to avoid crossing his arms.

"What do you mean?" Because he didn't understand. Greyson had nothing to apologize for. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

Greyson snorted in a way that was so completely unattractive. Blaine wrinkled his nose at his brother, pulling a smile onto his face for a moment before Blaine made the mistake of meeting Greyson's eyes with his own, a small smile on his own face. Greyson's eyes watered and his other hand quickly reached out to wipe them out of the hazel depths. He sniffled a bit and Blaine wasn't able to pull his own eyes away from his brother's. Because strong Greyson... strong, big brother, crying only makes you look weak in the eyes of girls Greyson Anderson was going to cry. Because of something Blaine may or may not have done. "I never should have told you that you're wrong." Greyson blinked a few times, one lone tear sliding down his cheek.

"Grey don't cry-"

"And I'm sorry." Greyson pulled in a hitched breath, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the edge of Blaine's bed, his hand reaching out to cradle the youngest brother's in his own larger ones. "You're not wrong. You're not a sin. Those feelings you feel? That pitter-patter of your heart when you look at someone you really like? The feeling that you could just fly with joy. That you could burst into spontaneous pop songs or show tunes because you are so happy... Blaine nothing's wrong with that. Nothing is wrong with you. And I can't believe I made you believe that there is." Greyson took another deep breath, staring at Blaine until his eyes met his own, holding his gaze steadily and with a strength Blaine had seldom seen in his gaze. "So you're gay? Who cares? Love is love, Bumble Bee. As long as you find it I could care less even if it's with a goat or a pile of shit or some homeless guy... as long as you're happy I could care less."

Danielle bit her lip and banged her fist on the wooden door leading into Lily and her cabin. The red headed girl had been in there all day, whenever she wasn't at Blaine's bedside reading from some French book or singing to him softly in her near perfect delicate soprano. "Can I come in?" Which was a bit of an absurd question because it was her room too but...

"You don't have to ask." Lily's tear thick voice responded from the other side of the door, Danielle's hand reaching out to turn the knob with a tremble. Why was she so nervous? Maybe it was because she knew she had done something wrong in the long run... or maybe it was simply because she was just as shaken up about last night as Lily and Greyson and – and – Puck was.

She swallowed hard, pushing into the room and shutting the door behind her. Lily looked over at her from her bed under the window, her eyes beautifully rimmed with red. Her yellow skirt matched her silk black shirt perfectly and Danielle found herself wishing once more that she had her friend's beauty. Danielle wasn't a pretty crier. Her face got horribly blotchy, not just her cheeks like Lily's, and her dark eyes would get almost too wide in anguish and the redness would stand out too much. It would look unhealthy. She would look unhealthy.

Danielle ran her hand down her jeans, walking over to Lily's bed, standing at the end. "Can I sit here?"

Lily observed her for a moment and Danielle knew she was having some sort of debate with herself over what she had done. "Yeah." She spoke softly, her eyes pulling onto her clasped her hands rested in her lap and her hands idly picking at the bright pink nail polish.

"I'm sorry." Danielle wasn't one to apologize, and Lily knew that so Danielle wasn't shocked when her fair haired friend's head snapped up to look at her in shock. Tears prickled at Danielle's dark eyes. "I was stupid, wasn't I?"

"Are you still with Noah?" Lily asked softly after a few more seconds of silence. It was tense and it was uncomfortable and Danielle couldn't imagine how their friendship had grown so... nonexistent over the passed few weeks. All for a guy. A guy who was so obviously not even hers to have.

Danielle felt her heart tug because, over the course of the summer, she had actually grown to really like Puck. It wasn't just the sex or the kissing or the fooling around. He really listened to her. He knew what she was going through and he didn't judge her as being a bitch before he knew her. He listened to her complaints and told her the answers in a way that she was understand. He gave her advice. Slowly, but steadily, she had found herself falling for Noah Puckerman. Only for him to be ripped from her grasp by her oblivious gay friend. She couldn't really blame him. But Blaine had everyone. He had Greyson whenever he needed him, he had Lily just by giving her one look with his hazel eyes, he had parents who were together and would never dream of separating, and, now... he had Puck. He had her boyfriend. He had the boy that she had kissed first. And he didn't even have to try.

"I'm breaking with him tonight." Danielle hated how her voice was coated with tears but it was something she couldn't fight. She wasn't an emotional person by nature, but she was so just so frustrated and it hurt so much. She hurt so much.

She furiously blinked the tears from her eyes, startling when Lily's hand covered over hers. "I'm so sorry, Dani."

"It's just... why him? Why is it always him?" Danielle's eyes sparkled in Lily's direction, her voice thick with emotion. "You can tell me, Lil. You're in love with him."

Lily's own eyes watered but she kept her emotions in check, visibly swallowing and squeezing Danielle's hand again. "Blaine..." She pursed her lips. "He's my best friend. He's always been there for me. When my grandmother died he went to the funeral with me..." She heaved in a deep breath, steadying her gaze so that it held Danielle's. "You know... we kissed once. He took me out on a date at the end of last year when he was trying to figure out who he was, you know? I was the safe choice. Way better than Amanda Perry anyway."

"That whore was throwing herself all over him." Danielle said with a decisive snort, remembering the girl who wore her shirts too short on the top area and skirts too low on the ass.

A small smile twitched at the edges of Lily's lips. "And that doesn't bother me. But... Dani he's so charming." Lily's voice shook with the same heartbreaking emotion Danielle felt. "And he's just the perfect guy. He's emotional and he's not afraid to show it. He's lost and yet he's found... Dani he's everything I would ever look for in a guy."

"Except he's gay."

"And he's not meant for me."

"But he's meant for Puck."

"Maybe." Lily shrugged uselessly. "It's just, Dani... don't tell me you can't see it. Don't tell me that you didn't hear him talking to me about how they kissed during the storm. Don't tell me you didn't tell Greyson because you were 'worried that Blaine would get hurt'. Don't tell me that you weren't more worried about yourself than you ever were about him because that would be such a lie..."

Tears leaked from Danielle's eyes. "God, Lily I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Blaine. He's been nothing but good to you." But then the stern, protective look that Lily had on her face disappeared and her eyes were watering once more. "What is it with us and falling for the wrong men?"

Danielle let out a choked laugh, opening her arms for a hug. "Maybe we should go for girls."

"Oh you're the only girl for me." Lily sang at her, winking and the two pulling away with a few belly laughs.

Danielle winked back before sobering a bit. "We only date guys approved by the other?"

"Deal." And, as their pinkies linked in the most elementary of promises Danielle couldn't help but feel that, maybe, her life wasn't as over as she thought.

Noah fell into the open seat that Greyson had occupied before lunch, his sandwich cradled in his hands and his drink falling into the open spot on Blaine's lunch tray. "Hey." He spoke with an air of confidence that he didn't have. That he wasn't sure he would ever have with the boy sitting next to him ever again. But Blaine didn't need to know that Noah was worried as hell over what he had seen.

"Hi..." Blaine looked confused, but he sent Noah a tiny smile and that was enough for him. A smile was enough for him because if Blaine was smiling than everything had a chance to work out in the end.

"You going to eat that?" He gestured to the pudding the nurse must have personally made for Blaine.

"No." Blaine pushed it towards Noah with his left hand, refusing to let his eyes meet the dark ones above him. Noah wasn't sure what he expected to feel, but it wasn't a rising awkwardness. He was pretty sure they had passed that point weeks ago.

But this was a new kind of awkwardness because Blaine wasn't trying to avoid him anymore. Or at least he wasn't trying to avoid him the same way he had been before. Noah was pretty sure Blaine was at the stage of embarrassment when he didn't want to talk to anyone and hated himself. Which was crap because none of this shit was his fault. And maybe Noah didn't totally understand what had happened but he understood enough to know that he had to do with Blaine's parents and every other asshole at the camp and the rather blatant fact that being gay wasn't a disease as Danielle had so angrily spit out at him a few nights ago.

And that was a totally new concept because, if it wasn't a disease, why was he picking on Kurt Hummel? Why was he calling people a fag or gay or a homo? It didn't make sense as anything more than the want for popularity. But this... Blaine didn't seem like popularity was worth his health or his life or his... well his emotion. Noah never wanted to see him cry like that again. It was horrifying and heartbreaking and... well Noah never wanted to feel anything like he had when he saw Blaine cry ever again. "I'm sorry."

And it just sort of slipped out. Right past Noah's lips and out into the open and Blaine's eyes were wide and slightly irritated when Noah's own lowered to his. "Oh God not you too." His voice was full of a dry air that only Blaine could do. Disbelief and pleading and not in the way Noah had heard from him before.

"What?" Noah crinkled his forehead in question, lifting his sandwich to take a large bite.

Blaine rolled his head back, his hazel eyes boring into Noah's brown ones. "So far, Grey has apologized, Lily's apologized, Dani's apologized, and some random janitor has apologized. The janitor was the best apology yet."

Noah wasn't sure if he was joking or not but this kind of misery from Blaine was laugh worthy so he let one pass. "Sorry." He apologized again as food flew out.

"... Say it don't spray it." Blaine wrinkled his nose at him, throwing a napkin in Noah's general direction.

Noah caught the napkin easily enough, a smirk popping out of the corner of his mouth before his face sobered. "No, seriously, dude. I'm sorry."

And he was sorry because Noah had been kind of an ass. He hadn't really been being the best friend in the world. He had been so concerned with Dani and getting alcohol from the older club members that he hadn't really bothered making sure Blaine was okay. "No, seriously, Noah... Don't."

"Listen, Blaine I haven't been the best friend-"

"You've been a great friend and if I seriously hear one more 'I'm sorry' from your mouth – or anyone else's – I'm going to break my guitar over your head." And, okay, that look on Blaine's face made Noah almost believe him. Except Blaine wasn't violent, besides that time where he had kicked Noah the other day.

"Only my head?"

"And then make you buy me a new one, yeah." Noah laughed, the laugh fading only when Blaine's face remained stony and his hazel eyes remained as serious as they could get.

"I'm sor-?"

"Don't you dare."

"Sorry."

"You ass." Blaine punched him in the arm, his mouth twitching upwards in a small smile.

"Sorry."

"Stop it." Blaine hit him again, a tiny laugh passing through his lips once more.

"I'm sorry!" Noah held his hands up in surrender, laughing himself.

"You're such a jerk."

"I'm sor-"

"Shut it!" Blaine clamped a hand over Noah's mouth, and Noah tried not to let his eyes lower themselves to the stark white bandages that covered Blaine's wrists. Because he was smiling and Noah's stomach was doing those weird sort of somersaults he had come to reference with Blaine and Blaine only.

Noah wanted to kiss him again. God did he want to kiss him again. And they were so close and he could feel Blaine's breath on his own and... he leaned close, letting his lips press gently against Blaine's pinker ones. His eye lashes fluttered shut, and he felt Blaine's own brush against his cheek. His hand slid down to his neck, tangling in his curly hair and teasing the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. "I'm sorry." He whispered between their lips when they separated. Only now he wasn't quite sure what it was he was apologizing for.

Two days later and he still couldn't leave. Blaine huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as glaring at the sketch book that lay open in his lap. He hated the sketches in there. All of them. He just wanted to rip them to pieces and watch them burn or float into the open air. He also wanted those horrible bandages off his wrists. They were itchy and they were too white and if he had to look at them one more time he was going to hurt someone. Or color of them. Would the nurse get angry with him if he did that?

"Oh darling." His grandmother let out a soft sigh from his beside and, oh yeah, his parents were sort of there. And his father was sort of reading over the medical report from the nurse and his grandmother was sitting next to him and he was supposed to be showing her his pictures. Only he didn't want to show her his pictures because his pictures were crap and they were so dark and Blaine didn't want dark in his life anymore. He wanted light. He wanted music and singing and dancing and happiness. Only he knew his life and that was pretty much guaranteed to not happen any time soon. "Why did you do this?"

And wasn't that a question he wanted answered for himself. Why did he do this? What was it that he had done? Had a break down? Freak out? Something that remotely resembled that? He kept his lips pursed tightly. He knew his father wouldn't want to hear and answer. His grandmother wasn't the grandmother he wanted. He furiously blinked away the tears at the thought of his mother's-mother whom his family had buried a year ago. Before his mother had left. Before his whole life had gone to hell... But he wasn't a sin. Greyson had told him that he wasn't a sin. And Greyson had to be right about that, yeah? And where was Greyson, anyway?

His father tsked, shutting the folder with a snap of his wrist and coming to stand beside his son, ripping off the stark white bandage with another snap. It was quick and it was as painful as digging his nails into his own skin. "Nathan!" His grandmother squealed from his side as Blaine ripped his arm away from his father.

"How much damage did you do?" His father's voice was cool and calculated. The same coldness and impersonal parenting tone that he had had ever since Blaine had come out to him.

Blaine didn't want to answer him so he simply held out his arm for his father's practiced eyes to look observe the injury for himself. "I'll call up Lisa." Lisa... his psychiatrist from the church. The old, stiff lady with a bun that was too tight and who wore bland and boring gray outfits very day of her life. He didn't hate her, but she was the one who constantly told him that if he prayed, if he begged, if he was good, that God would take away his sin. But Blaine was pretty sure she wouldn't be too happy with him when she found out that he had made out with another boy twice instead of making out with a girl once.

"And we'll set you up with a program dear." His grandmother patted his arm as Blaine's face blanched. What kind of program? "There's a very good one out in Westerville, Nathan. I've heard only good things from the girls at my spa." What kind of program?

"The Outreach group?" His father asked in what sounded like fake interest.

"Of course, darling." His grandmother patted his arm again but all Blaine was feeling was dread.

He didn't know what kind of people would be involved in this outreach program and he didn't want to know what kind of people were involved. He didn't want anything to do with anyone from the outreach program. Nothing at all. His father patted the bandage back over his wounds, holding Blaine's gaze for a second longer than he had in the passed year. Blaine fooled himself into thinking that maybe his father was going to apologize too, or maybe he was going to tell him that he loved him like he used to but... instead his father opened his mouth and his eyes remained disappointed. "You have disappointed me, Blaine. I want this attitude gone by the end of the summer."

He couldn't help the anger and self hatred than swelled in his soul. If he wasn't a sin than why didn't his father love him?

If there was one thing Wes hated more than anything it was the outreach program his parents (and school) made him sign up for every year. Even though it would eventually look good on a college application there was nothing that Wes wanted to do less than work with troubled little children who did drugs and messed with people's lives. Wes would rather be hanging out with David. He would rather be preparing for his tryout for the Warblers. He would rather be studying Calculus or Mandarin than watching over a depressive child.

Wes was what you could call an ambitious and, slightly selfish, child. He knew what he wanted in his life and he knew how to get it. He knew ever since he had first seen the Warblers perform that he wanted to be in charge of them some day. He knew ever since he joined his father in the office that he wanted to be a psychiatrist. He knew ever since his first day on the outreach program his mom made him partake in that he hated children. The first one he had ever surveyed had smeared crap all over the walls. And Wes meant crap – shit, poop, disgusting brown stuff that comes from the ass. He still couldn't look at chocolate without gagging.

But, anyway, his parents insisted that he take part in he outreach program that was exclusively not Asian and therefore didn't interest his father in the least. And, yet, his mother – his highly tradition oriented mother from some poor province in China – insisted that he take part in something that "every child should have to do". Every child had to do it his ass. Wes was pretty sure he was the only Dalton boy who even thought of participating in an outreach program. There were some Big Brothers in the group, but, even then, they got kids from, like, five up. Wes always got stuck with the delinquents. Abuse cases. Depression raked children who knew nothing about music.

They didn't pair you up the right way in the outreach program. No, they didn't want to waste their time with that. Instead, they made Wes take on cases that didn't even remotely resemble him. He got the crap smearing child, the pyromaniac girl, the hypochondriac little boy and girl, and now this kid.

Wes didn't see what was so promising about him but the moment his "counselor" heard about this boy she had insisted that he was "just your kind of boy"! Only Wes couldn't exactly sure what that meant so he just faked the patented Dalton Boy smile and shook her hand as she handed him the address. The address to a fucking summer camp.

So Wes was pretty sure he was going to bash someone's head in because here he was, hoping he would at least be allowed to go on a few trips to China or India or Ghana with David or his family and, no. Instead Wes had to spend the summer at a summer camp because of the fucking outreach program decided they had found his "perfect match".

Well screw that because Wes wasn't partaking in anything even remotely like Eharmony or any of those other crappy dating websites. And he was pretty sure his "counselor" had said the same line when assigning him all the horror cases.

He crossed his arms over his chest and ran a hand over his forehead, pushing his bangs off his sweaty forehead as the coach or something lead him into the Medical room.

Oh, and another thing Wes hated, none of the kids he got as an outreach would even need any help if their rich ass parents had taken the time to pay their kid any attention.

His shiny, black shoes pounded against the grass and he grimaced. Grass on his nice new shoes? He would have to spend three days cleaning them off to their nice shiny dimensions once the summer ended. Although, maybe David had a good point and he should have bought a different pair of shoes for the summer than dress shoes but that was in the past now and Wes loved his shiny shoes. He was just starting to realize how stupid his love may actually be.

"Mister Mone... row?" A man's announcer like voice yelled from the other side of the Medical room. Wes jumped at the sheer volume of the bear like man's voice, almost jumping to attention like his father did whenever his old Lieutenant spoke his name. He shook his head at the man's audacity. His last name wasn't even Chinese and the guy still didn't know how to say it. It was pathetic.

"Wesley Monroe." But if Wes knew how to be anything it was polite. He shook the man's strong and beefy hand for the designated time and with just the right force, shooting him a disarming smile. "I'm with the Westerville Outreach Program." And did Wes mention that he was the only Dalton boy suckered into the stuff? Well that may have been an exaggeration but it was close enough. Thad was stuck doing the same thing as him, but, you see, when they told Thad they had found him "a perfect match" they actually had.

Which brought him to another thing he despised. Being paired up with some football nerd who cared about music as much as they cared about politics. Not that Wes cared all that much about politics but it was phrasing that mattered. "Here for Anderson then." The burly looking man nodded his head in confirmation to his own unasked question.

Anderson. That name was too generic. Wasn't there a ton of Anderson's or something known for playing football? None of them were known for playing music. Or at least epic music. Wes was almost completely sure of that. "Guess so."

"Basket case that one." The man shook his head, letting out a low whistle. "Not like I blame the kid, you know? It ain't like he can choose whether he gets the bug or not."

Wes was pretty sure he would have been told if he was treating a kid with a disease so, excuse him if he was a little bit confused. "Bug?" He asked in the most polite way he knew. David would have been proud of him. Although David probably would have pulled it off a ton less harmful than he did.

"Yeah." The man looked at him as though he should know what he was talking about, stopping Wes right before he was about to enter the room. "He's got a case of the homo bug."

The homo bug? Wes had never wanted to punch someone in their face more than he did then. But Wes was a gentleman so he would reel it in. "He's gay?"

"Bad deal, son." The man shook his head once more, reaching out to pat Wes on the arm sympathetically. But Wes didn't know what the big deal was. He may not personally know any gay guys but he had seen plenty around school. Not more than he was sure there was in a public school but Wes knew they didn't have to worry about being ridiculed every day at Dalton. "He give you any trouble you tell me, yeah?" And maybe Wes had jumped too soon to the conclusion that the kid was bad because why else would this guy be offering to speak to him? That had never happened with any of the kids Wes was paired with before. "Right through there."

But when Wes stepped into the Medical room he didn't see anyone that he would class as a delinquent. Instead he saw a red headed girl with what looked like a French book open in her lap with her legs laid out in front of her, ankles crossed and skirt fanned out across the pale expanses. One of her hands was idly tracing under the lines of the sentences and the other was holding tightly onto the hand of a curly haired boy. Who looked as troubled while sleeping as Wes could guess any person had the right to look. His forehead was wrinkled into what Wes was sure he would have found adorable had it not been for the worried lines that were crinkling at the corners of his mouth and eyes, pulling his face downwards into a frown.

The bandages on the arms were too white against the tanned skin and Wes was sure, at that moment, he never felt more hatred towards the outreach program before in his life. How was he - Wesley Monroe, Sophomore of Dalton Academy for Boys, possible Warbler and music obsessed gentleman – supposed to help someone as damaged as this Anderson kid?

A: N - This is long. Love me and review.

Next Chapter: Wes meets Blaine, Danielle ends her and Noah's relationship, and the camp says farewell to summer and hello to the school year.