A little something I've had roaming around my head for a while. Just as a warning: Blaine in this story is literally a very Darren Criss-ish character. I never meant to, but I've sort of created a blend of the two in this story. I even find myself writing "Darren" instead of "Blaine" from time to time. Also, I'm treating all Darren Criss original songs as material for Blaine's original songs in the story. Just be aware, don't get confused. :P
This prologue is inspired by Marie Digby's song 'Miss Invisible.' I highly recommend you listen; it paints a nice picture.
Don't know where it's going or how long it'll last, but read, review, and enjoy :)
Take a little look at the life of Miss Always Invisible
Look a little harder I really really want you to put yourself in her shoes
Take a little look at the face of Miss Always Invisible
Look a little closer and maybe then you will see
Why she waits for the day that you will ask her, her name
Kurt Hummel was your not so average boy.
Kurt knew this. And maybe it was because he knew it that it got him into this whole situation.
When his mom died, his dad had decided it would be best if Kurt transferred from his private Elementary School on the edge of town to the public one here in Lima. It was the practical thing to do now that there was only one income supporting the family of two, and Kurt hated to leave his friends from school but he understood. He was a mature kid for his age and he sort of just got these things. It seemed natural to him and there was no need to throw a hissy fit over anything. Plus, Kurt thought optimistically, he could always make new friends. Someone was bound to be entranced by the fabulousness that was ten-year old Kurt Hummel.
Well, it just so happened that Kurt's plans didn't turn out as well as he thought they would.
Then, one day, just the same as the last
Just the days spent in counting the time
Came a boy that sat under the bleachers
Just a little bit further behind.
It was a sunny June day at Lima Elementary, the last day he would be at the school. A few months of summer from now he would be promoted along with everyone else to the sixth grade at the local middle school. Kurt knew he should be excited. New school meant new people from other elementary schools and that meant friends. Or at least, it was supposed to.
Somehow Kurt didn't feel as excited a he should.
On this sunny June day he quietly plopped onto the ground behind the bleachers of the miniature grassy field at Lima Elementary, leaning back against the scaffolding and folding his legs criss-cross-applesauce. He reached into his lavender backpack to pull out a homemade tuna sandwich and lemonade. He never let his dad make lunch for him to take to school; not after the burnt lasagna incident of third grade. (Was it even possible to burn lasagna, Kurt still wondered?)
He ate in silence, looking up through the gaps in the risers to watch the clouds drifting slowly across the blue sky. He was used to this by now; this was his routine. But somehow, as much as Kurt loved and clung to routine, he couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. Something was missing.
He tried to pinpoint the precise feeling in his chest. It felt kind of like there was a weight settled there, crossed between something unruly trying to climb out of his ribs. But Kurt didn't know what this meant, or what label to assign the feeling. He was only ten, after all.
It was similar to the feeling he had at his mom's funeral as he stood in front of the casket, clinging to his dad's hand like a lifeline. It felt almost like he would never be fully happy again, like a part of him was gone. And all the love he felt for his mom was settled on his chest, sort of like right now and even with his dad standing next to him, he couldn't help but feel...
That was it. Kurt felt lonely.
The clouds and the risers and the blue sky blurred in Kurt's vision and he looked down to the grass tickling his blue-jeans in embarrassment. How stupid it was to feel that way, he thought. He was just fine; he didn't need any one of those neanderthals back there to feel happy or whole.
So why, Kurt thought as he angrily wiped away a rogue tear, did he feel so sad?
He discarded the remains of his sandwich and sipped his lemonade, trying to distract himself from these thoughts. He would be okay. Kurt Hummel was a survivor. He had made it through this much, and he could make it through the rest.
But now that he had his head wrapped around this feeling it was hard not to analyze it. To nurture it, to hate the people who had made him feel this way.
Because he had tried so hard. Everything he read about making friends on his dad's computer over the summer before he transferred he had put into effect but it was no use. He was too different with his lavender backpack and perfectly coiffed hair and bowties and saddle shoes. No one could see past the frilly exterior. It was too much for the dunderhead ten-year-olds who put it upon themselves to deem who was okay to play with and who wasn't.
Kurt Hummel was number one on the Not To Play With list.
Not only did his shots at friendship get turned down; he was made fun of for it. He wasn't safe anywhere. Every little thing they picked on; when he accidentally stumbled on the way to getting a drink of water, the way he smoothed his bangs with his little thumb. And even when he was just sitting there doing his work they found things to make fun of and Kurt, fed up, just stopped trying.
It was only then that they left him alone.
And so here he was, under the bleachers, fighting back tears for bullies that didn't even care about him.
If the world is filled with people like them Kurt thought sadly to himself, then I'll just make it on my own.
Kurt was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear soft footfalls advancing toward him.
"'Scuse me," said a small voice.
Kurt looked up to see a boy with unruly dark curls silhouetted by the sun. He didn't know whether to be scared or annoyed. He wasn't bothering anyone for gosh sakes, that was why he had isolated himself in the first place-
"I was wondering, um," the small boy continued, stepping into the shade so Kurt could see him better. Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion; the boy had a Lunchables package grasped in his hand and a tentative smile on his face. Was he about to dump the pepperoni and cheese and sauce on Kurt's head or something? That would be a new one; they hadn't tried that before. And yet he didn't remember ever seeing this boy among the taunting faces, let alone seeing him at all. And Kurt couldn't remember the last time he had been smiled at.
The boy continued, fiddling with his cardigan nervously. "I was wondering if I could, you know, uh, sit with you."
Kurt gazed blankly at him, trying to read the hazel eyes.
"Why?" he asked, confused.
The boy looked taken aback, his comically triangular eyebrows quirking up. "Only if you want to, but well. I sit just a few stands over," he gestured vaguely behind Kurt and he turned back, realizing he had never really noticed that side of the bleachers before. "And," the curly-haired boy continued, "You looked sort of lonely."
Kurt winced a little at the new word.
This didn't go unnoticed by the boy. "Or thoughtful," he quickly amended. "And I was feeling... thoughtful... too. So I was wondering if we could be... thoughtful. Together. Or something."
He let out a nervous laugh and Kurt's heart warmed at the brilliant smile that flitted across the boy's tan face.
Kurt smiled back, marveling at how wonderful it felt to do so, and said, "I would like that a lot."
And so they spent the rest of lunch being thoughtful together. Not much was said between the two of them, as if they weren't sure how to hold a normal conversation for very long, but it was a lot better than sitting alone, Kurt thought. In fact that heavy feeling on his chest had pretty much dissipated, or at least transformed into a different kind of tightness. Something like excitement. And happiness. And hope. Kurt couldn't remember the last time he felt either of those things.
Little did Kurt know that those feelings now would be with him to guide him through the hardest years of school.
When lunch was over they said goodbye and parted their ways and that was that.
Kurt never saw him again.
Until six years later, when he found a curly-haired boy, maybe a few years older than he remembered him, up on an empty stage illuminated by the light of a stage with a guitar and an unmistakeable dazzling smile.