A/N: Hey readers! This is my first fic on this site. I have written and posted some to LJ, but I recently have been getting into this site a lot and reading many wonderful fics. I decided to add something of my own. I hope you enjoy it and review! This is only chapter one. I fully plan to continue this.

A/N: So a bit about this fic. I decided to take up the "Blaine's Old School" thing that has never been fully addressed on the show. This chapter is 100% fully Blaine POV, but Kurt POV will come in soon. It does get quite angst-heavy I guess and there is one small instance of self-harm. Please do not read if you have troubles with self-harm

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of the characters in Glee. Sadly.

If someone stood up in a crowd
And raised his voice up way out loud
And waved his arm and shook his leg
You'd notice him...

'Cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there...

Blaine looked at himself in the mirror, the darkness of the room shadowing everything apart from the vague outline of his face. It was 4:54 am according to the blinking green LED clock from back inside his bedroom. He barely moved an inch and just continued to stare blankly at himself as if he was waiting for something to change.

"Maybe this time..."

He reached down into the sink, full of ice cold water, and scooped out a handful of the freezing liquid. With one quickly swoop he splashed the water on his face, letting it slowly drip down as he squeezed his eyes shut with great intensity.

"Please, God...just let me be different this time..."

Opening his eyes slowly, he looked back into the dreary mirror. But Blaine did not look, or feel, any different than he did at 4:50 am. Or 4:45 am. O 4:40 am. In fact, he had looked and felt the same for the past three hours. The only thing that had changed was Blaine's face. It had begun to turn a slight shade of blue and he was noticeably shivering all over.

Every five minutes this continued on, each time Blaine getting more and more upset when nothing seemed to change. Finally, the clock let out a deafening, steady beep as it read 6:00 am.

"No. No it cannot be six yet. It was just six. It can't be six. Not again!" cried Blaine, running over to the beeping clock to stop the horrible noise.

Sure enough, footsteps could be heard walking around the floor above Blaine's head. This marked the end of Blaine's nightly ritual as he crawled back into bed. He hoped that his father had not heard any of the noise he was making, but he never did; he never heard anything. Blaine tried to close his eyes and sleep a little while longer, but his brain would not let him escape the present. In about two hours a new day would begin as he walked out the door and headed towards the looming building in the distance – school.

As the clock struck 7:59, Blaine let out a few stray tears. He had been watching it tick away, minute by minute. Secretly, he hoped that if he watched the clock for long enough it would tick slower...and slower...and perhaps never even reach 8:00. Alas, today was not that day. Sixty seconds passed and he was forced out of bed by a knocking on his door.

"Sweety! Your breakfast is ready!" chirped his mother in a happy tone.

Blaine faced the door, a devastatingly sad frown his face, but without missing a beat chirped back "I'll be up in a minute mom!" in an equally happy tone to his mothers; perhaps even slightly happier.

Once he heard her footsteps echo off into the distance, he collapsed to the floor in sobs. It was here. Another day. All Blaine wanted was for these days to simply stop coming so fast, one after the other after the other in a stampede of weeks and months all at once rushing towards him at once. He could take them one at a time, but after a while the days just start to...blur.

After Blaine got dressed, packed his bag, and splashed one last burst of cold water in his face (still nothing different) he took the first steps towards the day. With one a deep breath, half sobbing as he inhaled, he opened the thick door to his room. The second the door opened, a smile burst out over his face like a gunshot and he bounded up the stairs with life and energy. He was going to face the day. He had no other choice but to face the day.

"Hey mom! Oh, smells good! Anything interesting in there?" piped Blaine as he kissed his mother on the cheek and sat down to eat his bacon and eggs.

She was reading a small pamphlet titled 'Oak Ridge High School Weekly News' and sipping coffee out of a 'World's Best Mom' mug that looked like it was made for an elementary school Mother's Day project.

She smiled back at him and said "Oh, nothing much. I see the Drama department has a new play, though? You didn't tell me, Blaine! What is this one about? Oh I always love those school plays."

Blaine cringed on the inside. 'Drama department' were two words he seldom used at home. He remained composed however, not letting his mother see what effect it had on him.

"Oh? I thought I did. It's nothing much. Just a play based in the 60's"

"Sounds interesting. Hairspray? Such a funny name for a play, don't you think?"

He brushed it off with some silly comment and continued to eat. All he wanted was to finish and get out before a second round of questions. Evidently, his mother noticed this.

"Oh honey! I know you are excited to get to school, but you should really slow down. You have plenty of time to eat, dear" she laughed, walking out of the kitchen to go turn on the TV in the next room.

Time. It was just what Blaine didn't want to hear. Still, he remained composed. Now that his mother was in the other room, it was far easier for him. Blaine loved his mother, he really did, but even just smiling drained him of the little, precious energy he had left. He would need all of that, and then some, for what was coming next.

Blaine waved goodbye to his mother from the sidewalk and started on his walk to school. It took him about ten minutes to get from their average sized suburban house to the local high school. Of the entire day, this walk was one of the highlights for Blaine. It was the one time he did not have to think or be anything he wasn't. He could just walk in silence and drift into his head.

"Two more days to the next weekend...Two more weeks to the next holiday...Six more months till the next summer break...Four more years till I am free..." he mumbled to himself as he walked along.

Counting was important to Blaine. He counted everything by time. He always knew just how long it was to the next four day weekend or how many minutes were left in the school day. He even had the number of average steps it took to get to school down. He had a list of numbers to count off every day as he walked. It helped him prepare for what was to come. But today, as he got to one particular number, he stopped - counting and walking.

"Zero. It's zero days left until the cast of the school play is posted"

Panic set in. Blaine started to run towards the school in the distance, gaining speed as he saw it come closer into focus. He had to reach the school before everyone else. The list was going up and he was on it.

"8:27. I have three minutes before Mrs. Tebbit posts the list" he said, looking at his watch.

As he reached the front doors of the school he stopped to catch his breath. Looking up he saw the words 'Oak Ridge High School' looming over him in black, shadowy letters. He would have rather not spent an extra three minutes, or three seconds, at the school today, but he was willing to spend another three hours if it meant stopping that list.

He ran down the long hallway, rows of old blue lockers on both sides, and saw the doors to the gymnasium at the end. Mrs. Tebbit was opening them and walking inside, a piece of paper in her hand.

"MISS TEBBIT!" hollered Blaine from half way down the hall, after looking around to make sure no one else was there. She turned around and looked at him strangely.

Mrs. Tebbit was an older woman with long brown hair and a slightly wrinkled face. She wore very long, flowing dresses and was quite the odd woman when compared with all the other teachers at the school. As a drama teacher, she was definitely the most theatrical of the staff. The majority of the time she smiled and laughed, even if there was nothing to smile or laugh about. Most of the kids thought she was on drugs, but not Blaine. She was Blaine's favourite teacher (by default – he really didn't like any of the other teachers).

"Ahh! Good morning Blaine! Come to see the cast list put up on this glorious and WONDERFUL day?" she said, throwing her hands above her head and laughing.

"Miss Tebbit...I...er, well..."

Blaine didn't know how to tell her. For the past month he had wanted to, but he could not find the right time. He had auditioned for a role in the musical one day after school. He wanted to do it so badly, feeling like a part of him was missing that he could only re-claim by walking out onto the stage. The only problem was he didn't want anyone to know. He thought that in a month he could find a solution, some way to stop the cast list from going up but still take part in the musical. Well, it had been a month. He had no solution.

"Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win" said Mrs. Tebbit.

Blaine just looked at her, stunned. This was a habit of Mrs. Tebbit's. She knew what you were thinking at any given moment and she also had some obscure literature quote, usually Shakespeare, to throw at you.

"Miss Tebbit, I know I should have said something sooner, but...I don't think I can have everyone know. T-that I am in the musical. I try not to stand out. All I want to do is fit in. This..."

"Oh my. Dear, you can't live your life amongst the shadows! Come out! Come live in the light and the land of the living!"

Blaine was sure she had winked as she said "come out". He signed, and kept on desperately trying to convince her to not put up the list.

Two hours later, Blaine was sitting in English class and not knowing what had just happened. He had his mind set on either delaying the list being put up or quitting the musical. Somehow he had done neither. Now all he could do was watch the clock and count the minutes towards the next class, P.E, and everyone finding out.

"Ok class, before you all leave..." Mr. Reid, the tall, awkward looking English teacher, started to say.

A collective groan sounded from the class.

"...now, now! I have given you almost no homework this entire week. I want you all to write five hundred words on one of the three authors we have been discussing in class. You can choose whoever, just make sure you follow the class guidelines."

"Whatever! This is so gay!" groaned a large boy at the front of the class. Mr. Reid did not seem to notice and he kept writing out the assignment on the board.

Blaine copied down the assignment as fast as he could and jolted out of his chair to make a break for the gymnasium. Perhaps he could still get there in time to scribble his name out or steal the list, he thought.

"Blaine, can I see you for a second?" called Mr. Reid from the front of the classroom.

"Ugh" Blaine muttered to himself as he sauntered towards the front of the room.

"I heard that." Mr. Reid snapped.

He had been held back for about five minutes as Mr. Reid lectured him about "daydreaming" during what he called "the single most important class you will ever take in your entire life". Blaine seriously doubted that statement, even though he did generally like English as a subject.

Blaine walked towards the gymnasium doors and hoped that no one had seen the tiny sheet of paper pinned to the wall inside. He knew no one really cared about the school drama department anyways. But as he was about to open the doors he heard laughing from inside. Blaine instantly jumped to the conclusion they must be laughing at him. Although for years now anyone someone laughed he jumped to this same conclusion.

"I can't believe fairy boy is actually in the school play!"

"I know, right? He might as well come to school in a dress."

"And did you read the name of the part? Link! Isn't that a girl's name from that video game?"

"No, you idiot. That is Zelda. But everyone knows Link is a fag anyways. He wears a skirt and hangs out with a little fairy."

"It's disgusting they still let that dyke of a teacher put on these faggy plays. It makes me want to gag."

"Hey guys, when Blaine comes inside let's do that wrist flail thing. Do you remember his face the last time? It was priceless."

Blaine froze in his tracks. He could not move or speak. His lip started to quiver and he just stared blankly at the door. He started to slowly step away when he heard something that really made him cringe.

"Ok, ok guys. Enough chatter. Go run some laps around the gym."

It was the voice of Mr. Arnold, the P.E teacher. He had been standing there the entire time and had not said anything to stop them. Blaine didn't know what to do, so he just ran down the hallway as fast as he could away from it all.

He went to the only place he felt safe at the school: the handicap bathroom. Once inside, he collapsed onto the floor and, finally, let himself feel. Blaine was good at holding things inside, but he knew the second the broke he would not be able to stuff all those feelings back inside. At this point he just didn't care.

A flood of tears poured down his face as he gasped for air between sobs. It was not fair, he thought to himself. The crying soon turned to rage as he smashed his bare hands against the cold tiles on the ground. He grunted and grinded his teeth as he beat on the ground with as much force as he could.

"No one c-cares...at all...about m-me..." he sobbed out loud, finally letting his hands rest on the ground.

The crying started to return however as he let himself remember what had happened only moments ago. The word "fag" was now ringing inside his head like a bell he could not stop from chiming. He started to grunt again as he shook his head violently from side to side. He reached into his bag and looked for something – anything – to make the ringing go away. He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted the day to be over.

All he could find was a black ball-point pen. He took the lid off and jabbed it into his leg, piercing a small hole in his jeans in the process. It felt awful, but Blaine did not care. Nothing could feel as bad as what was going on inside his head. Blaine was about to do this again when he heard someone outside the washroom.

"Blaine dear? Are you inside the rest room?"

It was Mrs. Tebbit. Blaine had no clue how she knew, he had never told anyone about going into that washroom to cry, but it did not surprise him too much. He quickly put away the pen, wiped off his face and got up to open the door.

"I-Im here, yea..." Blaine said softy as he opened the door.

Mrs. Tebbit looked sad, more sad that Blaine had ever remembered seeing her. For once she did not speak. They just looked at each other in silence for a moment.

"Sweet are the uses of adversity..." she started to say, but was cut off.

"No. I am sorry, Miss Tebbit, but I just...I can't right now."

"I know, dear. I am sorry. Perhaps this is one thing our dear Bard does not have a witty response for."

Blaine could feel the tears coming back once more. All he could do to stop them from coming was to lunge out at Mrs. Tebbit and hug her. This was very unusual for Blaine, but something about her just invited the embrace.

"Shh. It's ok, dear. It's ok" she cooed as Blaine started to sob.

Twenty minutes later Blaine had composed himself enough so that he could go to his final class of the day, History. He looked down at his watch. Only one hour more, he thought. Everything seemed slightly more bearable at this prospect.

"Blaine! Skipping P.E? Really? Not that I'm surprised, actually. Well you know the drill. Get this slip signed by your parents for tomorrow. No one skips and gets away with it in my class!" roared Mr. Arnold as he thrust a green slip of paper into Blaine's hand. "You 'artsy' folk..."

Blaine knew exactly what "artsy" was supposed to mean. It stung on the inside, but Blaine's tough outer shell showed not so much as a flinch as he starred the teacher right in the eyes and took the slip. Turning away, Blaine stormed down the hall and towards his next class. However, the second he turned a quiver escape his lips. He was not going to be able to hold much more in today.

"Hey fairy boy, afraid you might chip a nail in P.E?"

"At least he didn't have a chance to look at us while we changed today. Maybe you should just never show up to class again, fairy boy!"

Blaine did not even turn around to see who it was. In front of him he could see the front doors to the school. He was about to break open. The emotions were going to pour out of him like a ruptured dam. All he could do to stop it was to run to those doors. He didn't care how many late slips he would have to sign at this point. He swung open the doors, took in a deep breath of the open air, and kept running. He never looked back.

"One more days to the next weekend...Two more weeks to the next holiday...Six more months till the next summer break...Four more years till I am free..."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that! Sad, I know. Before anyone asks: Yes, I am writing from experience. This is not *my* experience, but I am writing from having been bullied for being gay and coming from a background of depression and self-harm. And yes, I am 110% better now. It does get better! I will try and update this story in the next few days. Reviews will help me update faster ;)