Dalton, as it turns out, is not what Blaine is expecting it to be. What he's expecting from an all boys boarding school is beyond him, but he's grateful for the surprise. The magnificent brick walls and staggering height of iron gates say 'safe', and there's something old creeping into his stomach. He won't acknowledge it yet, but it's there.
The invisible tape 'smiles.'
As painful as it is to give his father credit, this place is nothing like McKinley, not even close, and it's that circumstance which lands Blaine his first real glimpse of hope. It's refreshing to be on the cusp of believing he can move on. Exhausting too.
It's his first day with an inventive start, and Blaine Anderson – the now gel-less, blazer clad, shell of what once was a human being- is practicing his camouflage techniques. He wants to test this place out before he decides who the new Blaine is going to be, but soon he'll realize he won't get the chance.
Blaine's knees are halfway to giving out when joins his orientation group. With each step he has to breathe in reminder that no one knows, but his efforts are unsuccessful and he's breathless by the time he reaches the wall of transfer students. It's a tiny group and he's the last one to arrive, so he shrinks to the back.
The tour begins with a general history of Dalton and a quick round of icebreakers. Blaine is fourth to go, mind too frantic to pick up what the others are saying, and he decides to give up. He simply doesn't know three interesting facts about himself.
Hell, Blaine can barely remember his name right now! All eyes are glued on him, so he closes his eyes and blurts out he can sing. It comes out a little to loud, which cues a jump, and before he peaks out from long lashes the woman takes his hint. She diverts the group's attention to Dalton's music program, and works from there.
A couple kids laugh, but he's mostly forgotten by the time someone else starts talking. He doesn't feel like they've forgotten though, and when he finally looks up from his shoes, Blaine catches a tiny flash of green from across their circle.
It darts to flash elsewhere but returns rather quickly. It's reading him, feeding him relaxants. Blaine can't decide whether or not to return the smile that's appeared on the other's face. He's interrupted by fingers pressing lightly into his shoulder. Blaine is frozen. Suddenly that warmth in his stomach is turning to flames and he's feeling shaky and scared.
"Look at that ass." A voice, whispered, comes from his left. It points to their tour guide, a blonde with long legs and a Dalton blazer- similar to but not quite the same as the one Blaine's currently clutching at his chest.
How does he respond? Why is he being touched? Blaine's gay, is this kid assuming he's straight because he doesn't accept the alternative? His hands begin to tremor slightly, triggered from the thought. Blaine's gone white at the knuckles trying to suppress it, and all glimpses of 'safe' fly out the window.
Dalton is proving anything but.
"Bend him over, yeah, like that. Fuck, look at that ass." Blaine's panicking. NoNoNoNoNO. Sensory memories initiate the 'slap' and he can still feel the fingers burning hot across his skin before they-
"No!" A few people glance back, and he feels crimson flood his cheeks. "S-sorry." Blaine looks at the ground. I'm not even good at being invisible, he thinks.
"Whoa dude, I was just paying homage to a natural work of art." Blaine's trying not to make eye contact, but an overgrown Mohawk is in his way now and it's sporting a concerned look. "I mean, I like Monet, but if you're more of a… Picasso kind of guy…" The stranger winks, "That's cool too."
Memory free, Blaine hints at a smile, and the Mohawk is patting his shoulder again. This time more friendly than threatening, and 'safe' is once again in the cards.
Part of him enjoys the warmth that springs full and lush into his chest upon immediate acceptance, and the other half is hoping he can live up to these peoples' expectations… because all Blaine needs is one more excuse to let go, and he'll make sure he's never valued interesting again.
That's what got him into this mess in the first place, isn't it?
"Gentlemen. Everything alright over here?"
The two of them break contact, and now the Mohawk is jumping on someone taller. Someone stronger. The resemblance is striking, and Blaine's positive- even before the other looks- that he's host to those comforting eyes.
This time, when the stranger reaches out to shake his hand and Blaine sees a familiar flash of green, he reciprocates the smile immediately.
"Blaine..." He breathes, "Anderson- Blaine Anderson."
Their hands meet and Blaine feels currents shoot through their palms. So it's not just his eyes. This kid is electric.
"Nice to meet you, Blaine Anderson." Beside him the Mohawk is laughing. It earns him a whack and the stranger turns back around to face value, "Sebastian Smythe."