Going to school made Blaine feel like he was walking into a bad situation, because at some point he was going to have to see Kurt, probably with Brittany, and he didn’t want to deal with it. Part of him felt like he should say something, apologize – to Brittany, not Kurt – because he’d been the other person, after all. She was the one who’d been cheated on. Never mind the complete confusion of Kurt choosing him of all people to cheat with.

Santana was waiting at his locker when he got there, and he really wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with her and whatever she was going to throw at him.

“Morning, Gimli,” she said with a yawn, and he thought maybe if she was tired that would make it easier. Because tired meant less attempts at being funny or cryptic, right? Except she’d already made a dwarf joke, so probably not.

“Good morning, Santana,” he replied, spinning the combination and opening his locker.

“So you don’t sing, by chance,” she asked, a little too nonchalantly for it to be innocent. He looked over at her, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to that question.”

“It’s not my fault you’re all over youtube, Blaine Warbler,” she said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Anyway, you should audition for glee club with me. They’re a bunch of nut jobs, but it could be fun.”

“Santana, what is this?” He gestured between them, raising an eyebrow.

“I told you, I’m your new best friend.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if they weren’t just one day past complete strangers. He thought about his actual best friend, Wes, and how he wanted to call him and get his advice about what the hell was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. Besides, he didn’t even know where to start. “Come on. Glee club. You won’t regret it.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Blaine groaned, hanging his head and sighing. He wasn’t sure if he’d said it in reference to her being his best friend or whether or not he’d regret glee club. The thing was, he’d loved being a Warbler. Singing, dancing, performing -  he loved it all. He hadn’t even thought about whether or not McKinley had a glee club – he’d been too stuck on Kurt. “I don’t know. When are auditions?”

“Today at lunch, and don’t try to tell me you don’t have anything to sing because I’m pretty sure you can bust out any of those diddies that you and the Gargler boys used to do.”

“Warblers,” he corrected, hand moving up to adjust his bowtie. It was the Dalton-themed one again. He needed the slight comfort of the colors, needed something to feel normal when it felt like the whole world had started turning the wrong way. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

“Bullshit, you know you want to.” Blaine looked over at her, his brow furrowing. In the midst of everything else, it didn’t feel that strange for her to be there, trying to be his friend. At least it was nice that someone was. Why it was the one person at the school who seemed to want to push all his buttons, he had no idea. “Come on, Blaine.”

“Alright, fine. What are you singing?”

“Love is a Losing Game,” Santana said, hooking her thumbs in the shoulder straps of her backpack and shrugging. “Amy Winehouse’s music is like, made for me to sing.”

“I’ll try and figure something out before lunch.”

At least he had something new to fixate on during classes. Every bit of thinking that probably would have been taken up by Kurt and Brittany turned into lyrics, songs, possibilities for his audition. Santana had been right; he could easily do almost anything that the Warblers had performed the year prior. It was just a matter of choosing something.

Lunchtime rolled around too quickly, way before he managed to pin himself down to one choice. That was what happened when he was given no warning and only a few hours to think about an audition. He’d thought about sending a massive group text to the Warblers to ask their advice, but he’d stopped himself. It felt weird to think about singing in a group that wasn’t with them, and it would have been awkward to ask. At least, he thought it would be.

Santana was waiting by his locker again, and he was starting to wonder if she actually had classes or she just hung around in the halls all day. Another good question was who she spent her time annoying before he’d gotten there. Those questions didn’t take up much of his time, all things considered. There were much more important questions out there. The Kurt questions, but more important at that moment were the audition questions – because they were distracting him from everything else.

“Should I have signed up somewhere?” he asked as he put his books away. “I feel like I missed a few steps.”

“Oh believe me, it’s nowhere near as put together as that,” Santana said, pushing off from where she’d been leaning and starting down the hall with him. “It’s pretty much the least organized group ever, or at least that’s what it seemed like from watching them crash and burn all over the place last year.”

The Warblers had been the most organized group ever, and that was saying something considering they didn’t have a faculty advisor. Maybe being student-run had helped them, because they knew if they slacked off or messed up that then the faculty would start paying attention and mandate that they be supervised. The council had been a little old-fashioned perhaps, but so were boarding schools. It had fit with Dalton. Of course, it helped that Wes had been heading up the council and if anyone was going to keep them on track, it was him. Add in a dash of tradition and a whole lot of pride, and they’d run a tight ship all on their own.

Maybe that was why it was an extra shock when they crossed the threshold into the choir room and he was faced with the most ragtag group of students ever. It was chaos: everyone talking, singing, most ignoring each other and focusing on themselves, the occasional two people whispering and glancing around. There weren’t a lot of people there, but enough to fill the room with frantic energy as auditions loomed ahead.

“Well this is—” Blaine started, but then he saw him. Of course Kurt was there. He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected it, considering how many conversations they’d had over the summer about music and performing. Maybe because Kurt seemed like a completely different person than the Kurt he knew. It would be too easy for Blaine to be able to do something he’d enjoyed in the past without Kurt being right there, headphones in, eyes closed, and lips moving silently, Brittany sitting right beside him. He was starting to think that he hated Santana. “No.”

“Oh come on, don’t be an idiot,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside. They found two chairs together, and as soon as they sat down she pulled out a nail file and examined her fingernails.

Blaine wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting as far as auditions went, considering Santana’s description of the group as unorganized. He was used to the solo performance in front of the council and that was it, but it only took a few seconds for him to realize that it was entirely different there. “Audition” was a loose term being used for all the students there getting up one by one and singing in front of everyone. Mr. Schuester, the teacher, didn’t even take any notes on performances or anything; he just made a comment after every song about what a great job they did.

Clearly anyone who auditioned was going to get in, so long as they weren’t completely tone deaf.

Santana was good, though Blaine had no idea what he’d been expecting. She definitely had the low and sultry style that suited her music choice, and just watching her sing made him feel like he was getting to see her for who she really was. There was something so much softer about her when she was singing – none of the dry tone she normally used or the hardened looks she gave out at every chance. It was refreshing to see her like that, almost like how she’d been for a few seconds the day prior when they’d been in her car.

Brittany was okay, he granted, despite how much he’d wanted her to be horrible. She was bubbly and upbeat, and so was her song, and she danced around a lot more than anyone else had. Blaine hazarded a look up toward where Kurt was sitting, but Kurt wasn’t watching her – he was watching Blaine. They both looked away quickly when their eyes met, and Blaine glanced over at Santana. She wasn’t much help, considering that she was just watching Brittany with a slight look of awe. She really wasn’t being helpful at all.

Everyone was a blur after Brittany – a small girl who was very enthusiastic, a few football players, some other cheerleader, a girl named Mercedes who had actually drawn a bit of Blaine’s attention because wow her voice. Santana scrawled a note and set it on his lap, pointing out the people who had been in it the previous year, a list of names and one word descriptors that weren’t really that helpful considering they were mostly her opinions about them. But then there was Kurt. He nimbly made his way down from the top row of chairs and ran his hands through his hair - a gesture that made Blaine’s jaw clench because he’d done that to Kurt so many times and his fingers twitched from the sense memory - before nodding to the man sitting behind the piano.

Blaine could almost forget that he was mad – maybe not mad, but he was definitely not feeling good things toward him – at Kurt when he was singing. "Blackbird" was such a simple song, but Kurt’s voice was so pure and gorgeous, and Blaine felt like it was melting all the stiffness off him. He glanced up at him, but Kurt wasn’t looking at him. That was going to take a lot of getting used to, considering how much Kurt had always looked at him until the previous day.

He couldn’t stop looking at him, though, because there in that moment was the Kurt that he knew. The Kurt who had laid in bed with him at Dalton for hours, talking about performing and how it was his one real dream in life. He’d never sung for Blaine, but then again Blaine had never sung for him. It was just a conversation topic, how they both sang and loved being on the stage, that rush that came from singing for an audience. That Kurt was the one who was there, singing for them.

There was a brief smattering of applause when he was done, just like there’d been for everyone, and Blaine waited for Kurt to start back to his seat before he got up. He crossed to the piano and reached down to press a key to get his starting pitch, giving the affronted pianist an apologetic look before turning to face everyone. “Hi, I’m Blaine. The group at my old school was all a cappella, so I hope it’s okay if I sing without any accompaniment.”

Maybe he should have changed his song choice after he saw Kurt there in the room, but he’d already decided and that was that. "Teenage Dream" had been his first solo with the Warblers and it held a special place in his heart, and by that point it was probably the song he was best at. He looked at Kurt when he got to the chorus, just barely but long enough to see that he was staring at him, an unreadable look on his face.

Santana, on the other hand, was smirking and giving him two thumbs up. That made him smile, and he let himself have fun with the rest of the song. It wasn’t like he could really control his performer tendencies once he started because it was so much more fun to sing to someone as opposed to just sing, even if it was just an audition. He dedicated words, lines, to nearly everyone in the room in turn, except Brittany and Kurt. Maybe he should have just stuck with Santana, because she looked highly amused by it all and because he actually knew her, but he couldn’t help it.

“Thanks, Blaine,” Mr. Schuester said as Blaine made his way back to his seat. “We’re certainly glad to have you here, and I bet your last school was sad to see you go with talent like that.”

“Thanks,” he said with a nod, trying not to think about how the Warblers would have reacted to the glee club situation at McKinley. It would have been entertaining to watch Wes take it in, particularly. He sat quietly and listened to the rest of the auditions, which there weren’t many more of, before they were declared done.

Blaine planned on making a quick exit, not just to avoid the situation but also because he was hungry, but he barely got out of his seat before there were arms hugging him from behind. He froze, glancing down at the slender, pale, unfamiliar arms around his waist, before turning his head and coming face to face with Brittany as she hooked her chin over his shoulder.

“Hi!” she said cheerfully, letting go and moving to his side. “You were super good.”

“Thanks,” he said, absently smoothing down his shirt from how it’d gotten rucked up from her squeezing him. As if he needed to be more confused, of course she was being nice to him. “So were you.”

“I know.” He blinked, staring at her for a moment. She’d said it so matter-of-factly, but there was no ego inflected in those two simple words. “I’m glad you’re here and not a bird anymore!”

“Not a—”

“Warbler,” Kurt cut in.

“Right,” Blaine said, looking over at him and biting the inside of his lip. “Well, I’m going to go eat in the few minutes we have left…” He figured that was as good an excuse to leave as any, and he offered them a hint of a smile before escaping from the room and getting to his locker to at least grab his sandwich while he had the chance.

He knew he was headed to the locker room after his last class, but he’d pretty much known that before the day started. The entire football team was there right after the bell rang, or at least that’s what it sounded like. He hadn’t bothered going in with all the noise – he needed quiet.

Once it sounded like there wasn’t anyone left, he ducked inside and made his way over to the punching bag. He dropped his things to the floor and quickly changed into his gym clothes, taking time and care to wrap his hands before standing and running his fingers over the canvas of the bag. It was rough, worn in places, but still firm and sturdy beneath his touch.

He tucked his earbuds in, his iPod shuffle clipped to the back of his shirt to keep it out of his way. His eyes closed for a few seconds as the music started, loud and distracting and everything he needed, and then he opened them and landed his first punch.

It was steady, rhythmic, the way his fists hit against the bag – the jabs and crosses landing with dull sounds that he couldn’t hear but he knew were there. It felt good to have something to do, to have something to try and distract him from everything that was going on. Except it didn’t work, and he found himself thinking even more.

Kurt had a girlfriend. Jab. Kurt had been dating her the entire time they’d been messing around. Hook, uppercut. The one time in his life Blaine had done something he’d never expected to do, and look what happened. Jab, cross. And now he was stuck because he was going to school where he had to see Kurt all the time, in all his not-like-his-Kurt glory. Jab, cross, hook. Because his Kurt, and Blaine felt like he had been his despite the lack of definition, was not at all like the Kurt at McKinley. Hook, upperc—

Movement out of the corner of his eye startled him and he jerked back from the bag, looking over as he pulled his headphones out of his ears. He’d opened his mouth to start to apologize, not sure why but he did feel slightly like he was trespassing considering he’d barely started going to school there. Was he even allowed to be there after hours? Except the words got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth because it was Kurt – wearing a football uniform and standing right there, Kurt.

“So you play football, too?” he said, almost accusatory. He didn’t know why he was surprised.

“I’m the kicker,” Kurt offered, rocking back on his heels like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

“Good for you.”

“Blaine, I—”

“Was I just some kind of experiment for you?” he snapped, adrenaline still coursing through him. It was the question that had been dancing around in his head ever since their phone call the night before. “Some wacky summer trial to see what being with a guy was like before going back to school and your girlfriend  and forgetting about me and whatever this" - he gestured between them - "was?"

“No! Blaine, stop—”

“No, I don’t think so,” Blaine said, punching the bag hard once more before starting to rip the wrapping off his hands. “I thought we were friends, Kurt. If nothing else, ignoring everything else, I thought we were friends. Despite what you might think, I didn’t come here to mess with your life. As much as I’d love to go back to Dalton, I’m stuck here, so sorry for how inconvenient that must be for you.”

“Blaine, I can’t talk about this here,” Kurt broke in, his gaze flitting around the locker room, between all the doors, before he looked back at Blaine.

“Right.” Blaine spit the word out, and he leaned down to grab his clothes off the floor and shoved them in his bag. He didn’t want to hang around to change when he was just going to shower when he got home. “Well, whenever you decide you’re not too ashamed to talk to me, please let me know.”

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he left the locker room and went straight out to the parking lot. His heart was still pounding fast, but he was trying to blame that on the workout and not Kurt. It was both.

He shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have let Kurt get to him that much, and definitely shouldn’t have practically yelled at him. It was just that he was so frustrated. He’d meant what he said – barring everything else, he’d expected to have a friend when he went to McKinley. If Kurt didn’t want to be with him in any other way, fine, but they’d been friends. He knew more about Kurt and his hopes and aspirations, his family, than he did about some of his friends back at Dalton. Apparently he didn’t know him as well as he’d thought.

It was a wonder he didn’t run out of hot water, considering how long he stood in the shower once he got home. The rhythmic pulse of the water against his back was normally something that soothed him, but not then. It was just background noise to his thoughts – which were loud as hell. By the time he got out, got dried and dressed and slightly less full of harried thoughts, he thought he could actually focus on his homework to distract himself. It was unfortunate that as soon as he’d started – gotten through math and started in on history – his mom was calling him down to dinner.

He still wasn’t used to eating with his parents every night again.  Of course they’d had dinner together when he was at Dalton, but it had been more of a once a week or even bi-weekly occurrence, depending on how busy his dad had been at the time. He wasn’t complaining, because it was nice to sit down with his parents and eat what his mom had made – because she really was an amazing cook – but it was weird to be doing after Dalton.

Conversations during dinner that night were brief, mostly because he didn’t feel like talking. His parents were constantly prodding him to see how McKinley was – his classes, the students, everything – but all he could focus on was Kurt. He mentioned the glee club, how he’d auditioned and joined it, but that was the most detail he gave about anything. It was easy to shift the focus off his education and to his dad, considering how he was interviewing for jobs for the first time since he’d graduated from law school all those years ago. Blaine had been about to excuse himself when there was a knock at the door, and they all glanced around the table at each other questioningly.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” his dad offered, and Blaine shook his head when they looked at him.

“I’ll go see who it is,” his mom said, rising from the table and making her way out to the front door. “Blaine!”

“What?” he answered automatically, before realizing that she probably meant for him to come to the door. His brow furrowed as he made his way to where she was, and he did his best to keep his expression neutral when he saw Kurt standing there.

“I didn’t know you were having a friend over,” she said, and Blaine clenched his jaw.

“Neither did I,” he said, giving his head a small shake.

“You asked me to please let you know,” Kurt offered, his arms folding across his stomach. Blaine wasn’t sure if his mom was aware of the tension or not, but she looked between the two of them a few times before clearing her throat.

“Well, you boys let me know if you need anything. We just had dinner, Kurt, but if you were hungry I’m sure I could find something.”

“I’m fine, thank you Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt said, giving her a smile, but it quickly faded as soon as she left.

“For someone who barely even talks to me, it’s kind of creepy how you managed to find my house without me ever telling you where it was,” Blaine started, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Blaine, I came here to talk,” Kurt said, his tone quiet. “It’d be nice if we could do that without you automatically lashing out at me.” He paused, and their eyes met. “And I know how to use Google, so it wasn’t exactly that hard to find.”

“Okay.” Blaine nodded, pursing his lips. If Kurt wanted to talk, he was more than willing to listen. Maybe, he hoped, there would be some semblance of explanation for what was going on. Either way, he was still on edge from earlier that day, so he knew he was going to have to remind himself to keep his mouth shut. “So talk.”

“Can we… go somewhere? That isn’t the foyer of your house, I mean,” Kurt asked, gesturing around where they were standing. “Your room?”

Blaine hesitated, not really sure if he wanted to let Kurt in that far. His room was his place, much more personal than his room at Dalton had been. That had been his, but also shared, and it had only housed parts of him. Then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to have whatever conversation they were about to have someplace where his parents could hear. So he nodded, turning on his heel and starting up the stairs to his room.