“So, how are you liking Dalton so far?”
Kurt shrugged as he set his tray down, sliding into the seat across from Blaine, who was watching him questioningly over the rim of his soda can.
“It’s… different,” he said simply, picking up his fork to push his salad around his bowl distractedly. There were a thousand things he could have said about missing his friends, his father, his own bed now that he was boarding at Dalton—he wasn’t about to drive an hour both ways each day from Lima to Westerville—but he simply shrugged again and stabbed a few pieces of lettuce onto his fork.
He heard Blaine sigh and looked up to see him giving him the same sympathetic look he’d been giving him since Kurt had first confessed about the bullying the day they’d met. It made something unpleasant curl up in his insides, made him feel… weak and pitied and he didn’t like it. He smiled nevertheless. It would wear off soon enough.
“So, Warbler practice tonight at six,” Blaine went on, Kurt grateful for the change of subject and ignoring the anxious looks Blaine cast him every few seconds. “Do you have your audition piece ready?”
“Mhmm,” Kurt said, nodding and chewing slowly on his salad. He swallowed and swiped his thumb over the corner of his mouth. “Rachel helped me, as annoying as she is.”
“Going to the competition for advice,” Blaine said, laying his hand on his chest with a look of mock affront. “How could you?”
Kurt smiled, letting out a small huff of amusement as he turned back to his salad, Blaine chuckling quietly across from him.
The sound of raucous laughter and the clatter of footsteps drew his attention to the door, where a group of five or six boys were shoving their way into the front of the line, ignoring the grumbled sounds of protest from the others, though no one put up much of a fight. They were all dressed in dark navy and red jerseys and shorts, and Kurt noticed that a few of them had cleated shoes hanging from around their necks.
Blaine made an annoyed sound and Kurt turned to see him frowning at the group, lips pursed in disapproval.
“The lacrosse team,” he said in explanation when Kurt flashed him a curious look. “They think they’re better than the rest of the school because they’ve won state three times in a row.”
“Better than you anyway,” a voice drawled from behind Kurt, who jumped and squeaked embarrassingly as he lifted his eyes to the boy who had spoken. He was tall and lean, with tan skin dotted in spots with freckles and windswept hair. It took Kurt a few seconds to realise he was dressed in a uniform like the boys in line, a lacrosse stick swung across one shoulder and a smirk turning up the corners of his lips.
I’m in a deep crisis. When I’m in crisis I always draw porn. it was inspired by awesome Cimmerians. her stories make me asdfasdfas!
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Tom Hiddleston eating chocolate seconds before the interview starts.