The first time Kurt Elizabeth Hummel met Blaine Anderson, they were in hospital and ended up in beds next to each other in the otherwise deserted ward.

"So," Blaine had said, breaking the silence that lingered between the two, "what are you in here for?" Kurt had gestured to his leg that was wrapped in plaster and suspended above him. "Right," Blaine had grinned. "That was kind of a stupid question, right?" Kurt had nodded and, intending to get some sleep before his discharge the next day, had closed his eyes. Moments later he was hit in the head with a pillow and his eyes opened (at this point, Kurt had decided to call the boy in the bed next to him 'the crazy guy who throws pillows at my face'). "Uh-uh. You are the only person in here and we are going to talk."

Kurt had shaken his head and closed his eyes again. He didn't do talking.

"OK, fine," Blaine said. "You're not a talker. That's cool. I'll talk for the both of us."

In that one night, Kurt had learnt more about this strange boy than he knew about all of the other kids in his class, the ones he had grown up with. His name was Blaine Anderson (no middle name) and he was fifteen years old. He used to go to Westerville High but he was transferring to Dalton Academy next week. He spent most of his time in his room with his guitar because he disliked nearly everyone in his year, but he also liked chatting with some friends he'd met on the internet (his mother didn't approve because of stranger danger but Blaine would always respond with a chirpy, "Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet!" – a saying that Blaine's mother had taught him when he was younger and afraid to make friends with the other kids in his class). His birthday was April 22nd and he loved chocolate melted over Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream.

"My brother says it ruins it," he laughed, "but I love it."

His brother was Cooper, the man from the credit commercials on TV, but Blaine didn't linger on him for too long. His story of his thirteenth birthday and the mix-up with the cake, his aunt's handbag and the neighbours' gerbil was interrupted by the nurse coming in to take another blood test from Blaine. She eyed them disapprovingly and suggested they get some sleep in a tone that implied they better fall asleep quickly. Once the nurse left, Blaine winked at Kurt.

"I'll finish in the morning," he whispered. Despite his situation, Kurt smiled. He was looking forward to hearing the rest of the story.

But when he woke up in the morning, the bed next to him was empty and the sheets were crisp and clean. There was no indication that Blaine had been there at all other than a message written on a crumpled up piece of paper waiting on his bedside cabinet: sorry I didn't stick around but thanks for being such a good listener! -Blaine

Kurt got discharged that day and limped to his dad's car, wobbling slightly on his crutches but managing to maintain most of his balance and dignity.

"How was it?" Burt asked. Kurt made a face and shook his head. He did not mention Blaine.

The second time Kurt met Blaine he was fifteen and was getting into coffee. They didn't really talk and it didn't occur to Kurt until much later that the dapper looking guy he had bumped into at the Lima Bean was the same guy with the crazy mop hair and interesting stories about renegade gerbils and semi-famous brothers that he had met in hospital.

He had just been in there to get a coffee before he had to return to school (McKinley was really lacking on security: it had been all too easy to walk off the school campus at lunch) and to get away from the idiotic jocks that were looking for him in order to continue their daily torture.

"A grande non-fat mocha, please," he said to the barista and paid quickly, glancing at the clock. It had taken him longer than he had thought it would to actually reach the Lima Bean and if he didn't hurry he was going to be late for class. When his order finally came through, after taking what seemed like an age, he grabbed it immediately and spun around, intending on marching straight out of the coffee shop and drinking his mocha on the way home.

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen.

As Kurt spun around, he did not notice the boy in the Dalton uniform step forward to get his own coffee and they both collided, Kurt's scalding coffee going all over the boy's uniform causing him to cry out. The barista looked on, half amused, half worried.

"Are you OK?" she asked. The boy nodded and began dabbing himself down with a napkin.

"I'm so sorry!" he gasped, his voice even higher than normal. "I didn't see you there!"

"It's fine, really," replied the Dalton boy. "Forget about it."

"I'll buy you a drink," Kurt offered, but the other boy shook his head.

"I've got one," he said, "thanks." He reached around Kurt and grabbed his coffee. "Bye." He walked out of the shop, still dabbing at his uniform, while Kurt remained rooted to the spot, face scrunched up and reflecting on just how stupid he had been.

"Here's a hint for next time, kid," the barista said. "Always look before spinning."

The third time Kurt met Blaine he was going through the worst week of his life. And that wasn't an exaggeration. He was sixteen, a junior, and the bullying had intensified so greatly since previous years he was surprised nobody had noticed (but maybe he shouldn't have been. His school wasn't exactly a utopia). Each night he went home and looked at his back to see it covered in bruises from locker shoves. The worst part was his friends' reactions to the bullying.

"We've been lucky this year," Rachel would beam. "There's been hardly any slushies thrown in our face!" The others would all happily laugh and cheer and none of them seemed to notice Kurt getting slushies nearly every week.

Then the kiss came, and Kurt couldn't believe that something so amazing as his first kiss (his one with Brittany did not count because she was a girl and he just didn't swing that way) was wasted on someone like Karofsky. He went home that night, fully intending on telling his father what had happened but at the last minute he had chickened out. He didn't need to worry Burt with something so stupid as teenage angst. That's what he tried to convince himself. So he told nobody and went into school the next morning, trying to act like nothing had happened.

It was harder to do that when Karofsky approached him with a knife.

"Come on, Karofsky," Kurt begged as he was backed into a corner of a deserted classroom. "You don't have to do this. I won't tell anyone. I swear. I swear on my life. Please don't do this." Tears were appearing in the corner of his eyes.

"I do have to," replied Karofsky. He had tears streaming down his face. "I can't – I can't risk it. I'm sorry."

"No," cried Kurt. "No, please, no, no!" Karofsky grabbed his jaw and forced it down and Kurt screamed.

His screams did not last for long.

"I just don't understand, Kurt," his dad said later while Kurt was in hospital complete with IV in his hand. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Burt's face was streaked with tears.

It was meant to be comforting. To Kurt it sounded different. Tell me sooner, like he had later to tell him, like he would one day be able to speak again. You don't understand? he thought bitterly. I don't either. What right do you have to cry? You didn't just get attacked.

"I'm pulling you out of that school," his dad promised. "I'm so sorry I didn't do it sooner." He waited for just a second. "You'll be going to Dalton Academy." That rang a bell in Kurt's mind, but he guessed it was just a name from a school he would have been competing against if he had still been in New Directions. Burt handed him a handbook to read through and left him. Now he was alone in his hospital bed, memories of the last time he was in hospital returned and he wished that Blaine was with him to finish the story about his birthday party. But he was alone.

One week later, all the paper work was finalised and Kurt was sitting in the Dean's office at Dalton Academy, listening to Burt and the Dean talk happily about Kurt's future there. It seemed like far too long before Kurt was out of the room and being escorted to the boarding house.

"This is your room," the teacher showing him around told him, indicating to a door. "You'll be sharing with another boy," he checked the roster, "Blaine Anderson. Don't worry, he's friendly." Kurt's face brightened up at the sound of the name. Of course! That's why he recognised the school's name! Blaine went there! Kurt nodded his thanks to the teacher and opened the door, dragging the suitcases behind him.

The room was empty but it was easy to see which bed was Kurt's. Half of the room was messy with clothes strewn all over the floor. A few posters hung on the wall and there were a couple of certificates for various shows and competitions Blaine had been in. On the windowsill sat two trophies for fencing that were surrounded by pieces of paper with various scribbles on them.

The other side of the room was immaculate, except for a piece of paper on the bed carrying a message from Blaine. Kurt picked it up. It was the same handwriting as the note he had been left at the hospital: Hey new person! Hope you like the room! I tidied it up for you! Looking forward to meeting you -Blaine

A sudden noise from outside the room startled Kurt and he instinctively made a defensive shape with his body, ducking down slightly but he relaxed only a second later when he remembered he was no longer at McKinley and this new school had an anti-bullying policy. The door was flung open to reveal Blaine and five other boys, each grinning widely.

"Kurt!" Blaine cried. "Wait, it is Kurt, right?" Kurt nodded. Blaine grinned wider. "KURT! It's so good to finally meet you!"

"We've been waiting for days," one of the other boys added. "My name's Jeff, this is Nick and Trent and David and Wes and Thad. We're Warblers!" Clearly that was meant to be impressive but the impact fell flat on Kurt.

"Idiot," said the one Jeff had introduced as Thad. "He's new, he doesn't know what the Warblers are."

"Oh." Jeff looked disappointed. Kurt looked overwhelmed.

"OK, all of you out," Blaine said, waving his hands at his friends in a shooing motion. "Roommate bonding time. Goodbye. See you all tomorrow. Bye, Jeff. Bye. Bye." He shut the door in the blond's face and turned to Kurt. "I'm sorry about them, they can be overwhelming sometimes. You do get used to them."

'Do I want to?' Kurt signed. Blaine frowned.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand sign language. Are you deaf?"

'Something like that,' Kurt signed. Seeing Blaine's confusion, he grabbed the paper the note was written on and a pen off the desk on Blaine's side of the room and wrote the message out again.

"Oh," Blaine said. "I'm sorry that I can't understand you. My sign language is a bit rusty." Kurt smiled. Don't worry, he wrote, so is mine.

Kurt had been at Dalton for one week and he was all ready settling in. Blaine had properly introduced him to his friends, saying, "This is Kurt. He's something like deaf." They had looked puzzled while Kurt had smiled slightly. The tolerance at the school was amazing and still something he was getting used to, but he had sort of grasped the concept that people would not be coming after him for liking boys.

Still, he wasn't prepared for Blaine's reaction when he told him about what Karofsky had done and the reason Kurt didn't talk.

"He cut out your tongue?" Blaine gasped, sounding disgusted. His face turned slightly pale and he leant over the table to give Kurt a hug. "I'm so sorry, Kurt. Nobody should ever have to go through that. I just – why?" Kurt shrugged.

'He's kind of crazy,' he signed. Blaine frowned in concentration.

"He's kind of flying?" he asked and Kurt shook his head in amusement. He repeated the last word. "Oh, crazy. Yeah, that looks like an understatement."

Blaine's side of the room was always a mess and Kurt was constantly picking up text books and pieces of work from the floor so that he didn't trip over them so he was not particularly surprised when he saw the heavy looking book lying on the floor between Blaine's bed and the door to the bathroom. The title did surprise him slightly: ASL for dummies. He stood there, book in hands, waiting for Blaine to return from the bathroom. When the other boy finally made reappeared in the dorm, Kurt held up the book. Blaine blushed.

"It was going to be a surprise," moaned Blaine. "I was going to shock you with my amazing knowledge of sign language and you would have been completely impressed." Kurt's shoulders shook – his own way of laughing – and moved to give the book back to Blaine along with a small peck on the cheek. Blaine turned even redder as Kurt moved away again.

'How much have you learnt?' Kurt signed.

'Quite a bit,' Blaine replied. 'Do you know how hard it is to pretend to not understand you?'

'Poor baby,' Kurt joked and Blaine laughed.

'Think of all the conversations we can have about people and they won't even know we're talking about them,' Blaine signed, a giant smile on his face. 'Like when Jeff's being stupid, I can tell you then rather than later!' Kurt smiled at the enthusiastic look on his roommate's face.

'Let me test you on the basics, then,' he offered. Blaine nodded. 'Hi.'

'Hi.'