So, some of you may have noticed, but in this little story, I've made Blaine have longer hair and glasses. I thought he needed some kind of transformation and noticeable difference between the old him and the new him at Dalton, so for imaginings sake, I think of him like the pictures of a nerdy Darren before Glee, when his hair was still long. There's a couple of pictures with him wearing glasses, so that's kind of where my basis for this Blaine comes from. :)

Also, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. The next one shouldn't be too far away, but I promise (although I probably shouldn't) that it won't keep up the fast pace of new chapters for very long, because I always get distracted by some other plot bunny :P

And thank you again to flossticle for editing for me! :D

Two

It seemed that Blaine was doing a lot of staring at his reflection lately. He didn't know what to think. When he looked at the photos on his wall, he saw the little boy that was friends with everyone, the one who didn't care what people thought about him, was happy to chat to anyone about anything. He'd wear bright colors with his arms around the people closest to him with a grin so large it lit up the entire room.

Now, he was a social outcast. His hair had grown too long, but he kept it that way so he could hide behind it during class. His eyes seemed constantly rimmed in shadow. The bruise on his shoulder was dulling to an ugly green and he pressed at it gently, hissing as it throbbed.

'Shit.' He reached into the top drawer of his bedside table, pulling out his thick-rimmed glasses and a bottle of foundation he'd taken from his mother's bathroom the first time he'd gotten one of these bruises. The brush was starting to lose threads and the tone was too dark for his skin, but he ran the liquid over his skin anyway, rubbing it in expertly.

He'd almost completely covered the bruise and was just eyeing the stack of books he had to fit back into his bag when his phone vibrated. His hand dived to it, finding a message on the screen. No one had texted him in a long time. Not since the locker room incident.

Kathryn. The number came up as unknown, but he recognized her peppy attitude in the few words the message contained.

hey blaine. my dads car broke down this morning and all my friends come into school from the other side of town. i saw you drive off yesterday and i know you headed into the east district. can you come pick me up?

Blaine bit his lip, studying the message. He glanced at his image in the mirror, trying out what he hoped was a confident smile. It fell flat.

sure, he typed out. i'll be there soon. what address?

She replied within seconds and he shoved his phone into his bag, sliding the last of his homework in on top of it. Then he brushed his hair out of his eyes, straightened his glasses and set off down the stairs.

From the kitchen he grabbed an apple before stepping out the door. He didn't wave to his mother, although she waited at the window until he was at the end of the street. He didn't send any sign of recognition to his brother, who was climbing into his own car at the end of the driveway.

He just drove away, his hands tight on the wheel.

He pulled up at the front of Kathryn's house, just outside the driveway. She was already at the door, her hair pulled up into a tight bun, with those same few wispy bits escaping out the sides. Her sundress was a light purple and it suited her dark hair.

'Morning,' she said brightly, sliding into the passenger seat.

'Good morning.'

'How was your night?'

'Uneventful.'

Her eyebrows knitted together, forming an anxious line. 'I know I'm a bit pushy, Blaine, but is there something wrong?'

He bit his lip, steering them back onto the road and towards the highway. 'The first time you talked to me was yesterday, and now I'm driving you to school.' He shook his head, trying to dispel the worry that was eating through his stomach. 'Why are you interested in me, Kathryn?'

This time it was her turn to gnaw at her bottom lip, causing it to pout gently. 'You seemed like you needed a friend.'

'Am I a sorry case, then? You wanted a charity to support and I'm it?'

'No!' She scowled, pressing her hands against the dashboard and leaning back into her seat. 'Seeing you in French every day, pretending as if nobody notices that you get pushed ar-'

'Nobody does notice!' he snapped, anger building up inside him.

She shook her head, lifting her hand to place on his shoulder but drawing away before it made contact. 'I noticed.'

Blaine looked straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with her as they pulled up at the school. He drove the car into his parking lot and climbed out, removing his bag and locking the doors as soon as Kathryn had shut hers. He pulled his glasses off his face, shoving them into his bag.

'Why don't you wear them at school?'

'I only need them for reading,' he said curtly.

'You wore them on the drive, but you don't wear them in class.'

She was watching him with her thoughtful, curious eyes as he stepped towards the main building. 'You're scared their going to break them, aren't you?'

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face her. 'I don't care what they think,' he muttered. But even he knew it wasn't true. Unlike his parents, unlike his brother and unlike all the damn teachers at Westerville High, this one girl who had spoken to him for the first time the day before could see through him as if he was made of broken, fragile glass. And it terrified him.

'I'll see you in class,' he muttered and turned away.

The first part of his day was uneventful. French and English were breezy enough, despite the fact that he'd made sure to position himself as far away from Kathryn during the former as was politely possible.

She spent the lesson watching him, he knew it. He had felt her eyes on him, but just continued to stare resolutely at the blackboard, pretending she didn't exist.

Algebra was its usual boring self, but at least at this point of the day there was no chance for anyone to sneak up on him and throw him into lockers, or push him into a toilet, or lock him in the janitor's closet.

It was morning break he had to worry about.

Stepping into the quad, he lifted his bag, repositioning it on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a collection of footballers, leaning against the railing near the toilets and he skirted away from them, around one of the far tables. The library was only on the other side of the quad. He just had to get there.

'Blaine!'

Kathryn. Her footsteps were loud and she landed beside him with a slight jump. 'What was up this morning?' It was like she'd completely forgotten about their conversation.

'Can you just go away?'

'No.' She kept pace with him as he hurried towards the safety of the library. He'd decided to go inside today. None of the jocks considered themselves low enough to enter into a place where they might be confronted with books.

The frosted glass door parted beneath his touch, but Kathryn was on his tail and she slipped in behind him.

'What's your problem today, Blaine?'

He spun around, gritting his teeth. 'Can you not address me in public? I like to keep a low profile.'

'You don't have to stand up to them on your own,' she whispered.

'My plan was actually to avoid them at all costs, not stand up to them. But I'm glad I have your support if ever I grow some heterosexual hormones like they want me to.'

'So you are!'

'So I am what?'

She bit her lip, dropping her bag in the foyer. He did the same and continued into the main library, lowering his voice. 'What have you heard about me?'

Kathryn held out a hand, motioning for him to sit down on the couches bordering the shelves. He sat cautiously.

'Blaine, you do know that there's things written about you on the locker room walls, right? And not just the boys locker room, because I sure wouldn't go in there with the smell.'

Blaine let himself nod.

'And you know that they're not very nice things?'

'Yeah.'

Kathryn frowned, looking at her feet carefully as if counting the threads in her laces. 'What happened in the locker room finals week of last year?'

Blaine paled, looking anywhere but the girls face. 'It was nothing.'

'If it's written everywhere, Blaine, it's not nothing!' She bit her lip, tugging it between her teeth gently. 'I know you feel like you don't know me, but I want to be here for you, Blaine. I want to hear it from your point of view.'

He carded a hand through his curls roughly and sighed. 'It was a Friday afternoon...'