Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Hallelujah.

Note: Alright, so here's my newest Kurt/Blaine story, based upon the Jeff Buckley song "Hallelujah". My personal favorite version of this song is by Kate Voegele, but Christina Grimmie's rendition is lovely as well. I recommend listening to the Kate Voegele one to get the 'feel' for this story and the inspiration behind it.

Summary: Kurt and Blaine meet as teenagers. They are as different as night and day, but Blaine falls for the cynical boy despite himself. What he doesn't know is that Kurt is hiding a secret that could destroy any chance of a relationship they might have with each other.

Rated: Mature for later chapters.

Well, I heard there was a secret chord

That David played, and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do you?

Blaine Anderson wandered the streets of Lima in search of a music store. He wasn't looking for much; just a new keyboard and maybe a few blank music books to write some compositions in. He hadn't had much luck in Waterville, but he figured Lima would be a good place to look. Either way, he could always stop by the Lima Bean to have a coffee and to relax before heading back to school. Blaine attended Dalton Academy, an all-boy's private school nearly two hours away from where he was now. He had taken the bus to Lima, and only had a few hours before he was due back, so he quickened his pace down the near-empty streets. He was alone, it was true, but he felt content, at peace with the world, taking comfort in his own loneliness and silence, nodding politely at people who held doors for him or the waitress in the café that he'd stopped in for a quick lunch. Stores passed by, but none of them seemed to have what he was looking for. Feeling defeated, he started to backtrack to the Lima Bean, when he suddenly spotted a sign around the corner: Hummel Piano & Music. Heart speeding up with hope, he walked towards it. Peering in the window of the small store, he saw a variety of pianos, violins, drums, and music accessories in the crowded space. Stepping inside, he found the store to be warm and inviting. It was cluttered, but not overtly so. A light bell tinkled as he opened the door, and Blaine breathed in the familiar music-store smell, a smell that he could not describe unless someone had smelled it for themselves. Wandering through the store, he found that the very keyboard he had been searching for was on sale, and he broke into a grin.

"Can I help you with something?" A light voice asked from behind him, and he jumped slightly, not having seen anyone else in the store.

"Oh!" He started, turning around. "Um, well, yes. I'd like this keyboard, please, and a few composition books." He glanced at the clerk's nametag: Kurt.

"Whatever," Kurt rolled his eyes, stalking over to the cash register. He grabbed the composition books off the shelf behind the counter. "Wait here. I'll go get the keyboard." Blaine nodded and looked around the store some more. What a lovely place, he'd decided. Not seeing any other clerks around, he suspected that Kurt might be the owner's son. In that case, he deduced, Kurt's last name was Hummel. Kurt Hummel, he thought to himself. What a nice name. He tinkered with some of the things on the counter, picking up a light blue business card that read Hummel Piano & Music Supply. Owner and proprietor Burt Hummel. Phone 302.235.7431. He pocketed it for later. At that moment, Kurt came back, carrying the box that contained Blaine's treasured and sought-after keyboard. "Here you go," Kurt put it on the counter carelessly. "That'll be $150.53."

"No problem," Blaine smiled, handing Kurt the money. "So, um, nice place."

"I guess," Kurt shrugged. "I'm not really a big music fan."

"What?" Blaine's mouth fell open. "You work in a music store, and you don't like music? Isn't that kind of…"

"My dad owns the place," Kurt rolled his eyes. "And he pays me good money to do this after-school and on weekends."

"Your dad?" Blaine perked up. "Is he some sort of musician?"

"Not hardly," Kurt rolled his eyes again. "My mom was. She died when I was six. My father is tone-deaf." Blaine couldn't help but to notice the way Kurt's inflection changed when he said "father"; an almost sarcastic, mocking tone that was so different from his usual light voice, and Blaine wondered why.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Blaine said uncomfortably. "About your mother, that is. So, um, I guess that would make you Kurt Hummel then, right?" He mentally slapped himself for stating such an obvious thing.

"You're a keeper, alright," Kurt scoffed. "And who, may I ask, are you, Hobbit?"

Blaine blushed furiously at the jab about his height. "Blaine Anderson. I go to Dalton Academy, in Westerville."

"Blaine's a weird name," Kurt wrinkled his nose. "And what's with your outfit? I mean, it's like, the weekend. What's with the uniform?"

"Force of habit," Blaine said, blushing even harder.

"I assume you buy your hair gel by the gallon?" Kurt asked snidely.

"And I assume you buy your skin-care products by the barrel?" Blaine shot back.

Kurt raised a brow. "Touché. So, Blaine Anderson from Westerville, what brings you here to shitty old Lima?"

Blaine's eyes widened at Kurt's slightly angelic voice and even sweeter face cursing and leaning over the counter like a rebel-without-a-cause. "Well, I tried all the music stores there, and none of them had what I was looking for. Besides, I enjoy grabbing a snack and a coffee at the Lima Bean when I'm in town."

"Ah, the perfect hipster-wannabe hangout for hipster-wannabes such as yourself," Kurt clucked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. I would've thought better of a Dalton student."

"Oh," Blaine looked down, scorned. "So, um, where do you go to school?"

"The shit-hole that is McKinley High School, home of assholes, Queen Bitches, and jocks who have nothing better to do than harass those who aren't exactly the perfect stereotype that they are. It blows ass," Kurt filed his nails casually.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said awkwardly. "Um, so I take you you're, um, bullied?"

Kurt's face clouded over, and he subconsciously pulled his sleeve down. "I think it's best that you leave now, Blaine Anderson," he said coolly.

"I'm sorry, did I say something?" Blaine asked.

"Here," Kurt shoved the keyboard box and the books into Blaine's arms. "Just…get out."

"Wait," Blaine frowned. "Please, let me make it up to you…I'm sorry…I didn't know…I've been bullied myself, and I didn't know if you know what I've been going through, too." He studied Kurt's expression closely, a hardened mask that he just knew immeasurable pain was hiding behind, hence the cynical "I-don't-give-a-fuck" attitude.

"Look," Kurt placed his hands flat on the counter. "It's not something I like to talk about. You have no idea, no fucking idea what it's like to be the only openly gay kid at your school, to always be shoved against lockers and called 'fag' or 'fairy-boy' or 'queer' or 'homo' in the halls and to have those words spray-painted on your locker. You don't know what it's like to be thrown into Dumpsters like yesterday's trash. You don't know what it's like to be harassed and assaulted every day of your life by people who hate you just because your sexual preferences are different than theirs. You don't fucking know, Blaine Anderson, and you never will." Kurt was shaking with rage by this point, and Blaine stood there in silence, wondering how he'd never met this boy before, this beautiful, haunted, broken boy.

"I do, actually," Blaine said softly. "I'm the only openly gay kid at Dalton. And, like you, I've been harassed for my sexuality. Well, that was before Dalton, when I was at a public school in Columbus. I transferred to Dalton because they have a strict no-tolerance policy. Before that, though, I was harassed, like you." Blaine looked down at the counter, suddenly uncomfortable. He took in a breath, feeling Kurt looking at him with slight curiosity. "I had just come out, and I asked the only other gay kid—who was not out—to the annual Sadie Hawkins dance. All was okay, until we were waiting for his dad to pick us up after. These guys jumped us in the parking lot…I was in the hospital for three days…needless to say, we made the decision to switch to Dalton after that incident."

"You're almost as fucked-up as me," Kurt quipped. "Perhaps one day we could be friends. But for now, Blaine Anderson, we shall have to part ways."

"Why?" Blaine dared to ask.

"One, I hate music just as much as you love it. And two, you're just not my type," Kurt handed Blaine his receipt and waved him out the door.

"Okay, well…'bye, I guess," Blaine nodded as he pushed the door open with his hip, gripping the keyboard carefully while the bag holding the composition books dangled from his wrist. He looked in the store window for a brief moment, watching as Kurt pulled out what appeared to be a book of some sort, flip to a page towards the middle, and begin to read. He sighed and headed towards the Lima Bean, only about a ten minutes' walk away from the store. Settling down with a coffee and a biscotti, he opened one of the composition books, inhaling that new-book smell. Something fluttered to the floor, and curiously, he picked it up. Kurt, it read. 302.555.4890. Blaine smiled to himself, tucking it away for later. He wondered when Kurt had tucked that into the book, if it was before or after he had told him he was gay, too. Blaine had to admit that Kurt was very good-looking, what with his light brown hair and shockingly beautiful eyes that were a haunting blue-grey color. When Kurt had ducked into the back room, Blaine noticed that Kurt's ass was particularly nice, crammed into skinny jeans like a teenage girl, yet had slight curves. He blushed at the memory, wishing his eyes hadn't been trained there. He also wondered just why Kurt hated music so much. He couldn't imagine why anyone could hate music, really, as music was one of the most healing and magical things, both in nature and man-made. Blaine in fact was hoping to be a music therapist one day, working with hospital patients, especially troubled children and teens, perhaps gay teens that were afraid of dealing with their own sexuality, like he was. It in fact was through music that Blaine came to terms with the fact that he was sexually attracted to other boys, and it was music that helped him to deal with this life-changing fact.

He exited the Bean, heading towards the bus stop. He pressed his temple against the window and sighed deeply. Once he got back to his dorm, he immediately set up his new keyboard and ran some scales, loving how the sweet music filled the room with its swells and falls. He cracked open the first composition book, and, with thoughts of Kurt in his mind, began to write, letting the words and harmonies and melodies come to him as he devised a way to show Kurt Hummel that music could be the best thing in the world, and that it could bring two souls, no matter how different, together.