“I know. I know, I know, it’s stupid, and ridiculous, and pointless. You like guys, and that’s great, that’s just, that’s you, so it’s wonderful. And I tried, more than you’ll ever know, not to, but – it’s going to ruin our friendship.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to fall in love with you.”
“Hey. Hey. Wait. Take a deep breath and slow down. First. It’s not going to ruin our friendship. Nothing could. I promise. You’re far too sweet and I adore you so changing that is impossible.”
“Second–. Sugar? It’s a big deal to feel like you’re in love with someone. A really big deal. And you should know the person first. More than you know me. Don’t you think? Maybe–you just stron–and I’m failing at trying to talk this through.. Back up and let me try again? I should have stopped at you being adorable and never losing me as a friend. Huh?”
Somehow, Sugar had spent her first year at McKinley bully free. There’d been occasional incidents, sure; the inaugural food fight, getting caught in the crossfire of the hockey teams regular slushings, all came with being in the glee club – but she’d been sort of/maybe/hopeful friends with Santana, so. The bullies were unwilling to cross ‘Snixx,’ or so it was said. But then everyone graduated, and oh so suddenly she wasn’t a Troubletone any more. She wasn’t even Sugar to most people. She was the rich kid. She’d known from the first day, something like this was only a matter of time.
It had still surprised her, though. How fast it had happened, in flashes. Her bag slid across the floor by a hefty throw, the guy standing tall and filling her vision. Her mouth catching on itself, lips shaking, pressing herself against the wall. Sugar shook her head once, twice, no, “I’m not giving you a cent,” far braver than she’d ever feel. She braced herself when he brought his arm back, fell into a crouching position, hands to her face, protecting it.
The punch didn’t come, though, and through the harsh filter of her ears she heard Blaine’s voice, a punch and a crash, then coach Beiste’s voice. Bringing her hands down, she opened her eyes, watched the three figures. Beiste hauled the jock away, leaving Blaine there, and Sugar slowly stood, nerves still alight with sparks. But the mask went up, and she picked her bag up, facing the boy. “Could have taken him, but you saved my nails, so,” she lied, hoping he’d understand.
Once the Coach released him with a firm shake to his shoulders and a mumbled lecture of how she understood what he was doing. But he needed to refrain from that in the future–which he nodded to but didn’t meet her eyes while agreeing because there was no way he’d let someone take a hit if he could stop it–Blaine turned to face Sugar thankful for two things. First? That she was okay. Second? That his feet were on the freaking ground and the embarrassment of pretty much dangling from Coach Beiste’s hands was over.
“You definitely could have taken him and I’m surprised he wasn’t knocked out with a single punch before I came up. Who knows? I probably saved his dignity by interrupting the smack down you were about to unleash on him.” Yes, he got that lie and the understanding smile he gave her said he wasn’t about to disagree. He’d been down the road she was on before. More times than he’d like to count. But wasn’t one more than enough considering the subject?
A hand was reached out for Sugar to take and Blaine inclined his chin towards her bag with an upward twitch of his brow as the offer to carry it for her too. If her nerves needed a rest before she took on the burden of hauling her things across campus. “Now that’s in the safety of probably yet another detention for this week? How about we skip last class and go get some coffee? There’s a shop across the street. It’s not the Lima Bean but it’ll do in a pinch? Your choice. No pressure. I don’t want to end up like he almost did,” he grinned jokingly trying to lighten the mood.
No matter where you go–far as the public school system, apparently–one common thread always remained the same. There was always some overbearing, self hating, ignorant jerk who lived for making the lives of everyone around them more horrible than the one they lived. Just to make themselves feel better. McKinley was no different. Hell, he knew that coming here. The school that let Kurt be put through his personal hell before his parents had to step in and do something about it no sooner started to feel like it changed and could be better–feel like home even–than he happened upon this.
Blaine blanched at the coppery taste of panic in the back of his mouth as he took the corner and saw one of the stereotypical jerks in his natural habitat. Known as? Up in the face of someone who wouldn’t be able to physically defend themselves if their life depended on it. Tiny Sugar backed into a corner. An ape in a letterman jacket towering over with his hand out was obviously waiting for money to be put in it. He could barely see more than her fluffy sweater and the top of her head before his bag hit the floor. Even if his insides screamed in anxiety and his brain decided to play his worst enemy and put him in her shoes so vividly he could see it–Blaine charged forward. “Hey! I said hey! Get the hell off her!” A huge hand jutted back intending to knock him backwards but Blaine caught the jerk’s massive wrist instead. Half shocked, half proud–he blinked and felt a swell of pride steel his already unbreakable resolve. Sugar was forgotten and the sneering mouthed / hard set jowled boy pivoted around to glare down at him. “What? Didn’t expect anyone to have enough nerve to step in? Thankfully some of us are real men who think backing someone into a corner is a wee bit on the–”
That happened–fast. Blaine felt his serious error of judgement when he defied gravity and went sailing backwards with his head cracking off a locker. But unlike some who might’ve been stunned motionless, the much shorter crooner was back on his feet and a fire blazed in hazel eyes as he charged forward to the thunderous noise of Coach Beiste yelling out, “THAT’LL BE ENOUGH, boys!” Her fist latched onto Blaine’s collar while the jock spat something about later and stalked off. Hanging from the Coach’s grip, Blaine’s head sagged forward and his gaze met Sugar’s while he talked to the teacher that had him in a vice hold. “I thought this school was trying to put a stop to this stuff happening?” And could she seriously let his feet touch the ground more firmly? His head hurt and this was getting embarrassing.
pianokeysandbowties back up 