Everybody's got a dark side. Some people are moody and hard to please; others have a cynical outlook on life and are full of self-doubt. Then there are the histrionic drama queens, followed by the careless thrill seekers. Blaine Anderson was none of those things. Blaine Anderson was a masochist. No, not in a sexual sense, though he had yet to explore that possibility because there weren't exactly a lot of other out gay males among his peers at William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio.

Blaine was all a parent could dream of; handsome, talented, top of his class, highly involved in both the athletics and performing arts departments at school, and the Anderson's colleagues only ever described their son as "a dapper gentleman." They lived in a neighborhood of notable affluence in a white brick, two-story home with a two-car garage and neatly trimmed hedges surrounding it like something out of Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Yes, Blaine seemed to have the picture perfect life. It's funny how they say to never judge a book by its cover because Blaine was not who he appeared to be. Nobody's a picture perfect.

Blaine wasn't exactly sure what compelled him to try out for the Cheerios, and no it wasn't solely because of the tanning privileges, although the darker tone did complement his signature hazel eyes and encourage recognition of his Filipino heritage. Even though Blaine was an advocate for acceptance, tolerance, and having the courage to stand up to bullies, he longed to fit in and to be in the in crowd. He never had a chance to be the popular guy in elementary or middle school and joining the glee club in high school had been his first taste of being treated like an equal anywhere. Blaine wanted to feel what it was like to be the center of attention. Sure he was in the spotlight while performing, but once he stepped off the stage he was no longer the focus. Performing and boxing were his forms of release. Adrenaline coursed through his veins when he stepped into the spotlight or hit the bag continuously as he focused on breathing, in, punch, out, punch. Blaine would never give up performing, nor would he give up his trips to the locker room to knock out a few of his demons through the smack of the glove against the bag. But he longed for something more. Not just glee club, or his own makeshift "fight" club, but something that would get him noticed every day when he walked down the halls at McKinley. Sure, there was football, but Blaine wasn't called 'hobbit' for nothing. He'd always been scrawny-muscular, but tiny-and he didn't know how he felt about being tackled; that just might cause a few repressed memories to resurface.

So, he'd justified his reasons for trying out for the Cheerios. Not to mention he was under constant pressure to try out for the squad. He had two best friends; Kitty Wilde, who did indeed have claws, and Sam Evans, a bottle blonde with lips the size of a freshwater trout's. Kitty was a tiny spitfire; guys wanted her, girls wanted to be her, and she was not oblivious to either of those facts. Kitty took pride in being perfect, popular, perfection and would never be caught dead speaking to anyone below her on the public school popularity food chain, thank you very much. Blaine and Kitty's relationship could only accurately be described as one of love-hate. Blaine admired her honesty and conviction, Kitty insulted Blaine regularly and he would merely smile in response. It took time and effort, but she had gradually let Blaine in and allowed him to discover more about her than anyone ever had. In return he allowed her to delve deeper into his life and see beyond the picture perfect façade he portrayed to his other classmates. With a newfound understanding of one another they became inseparable. Blaine had even convinced Kitty to join the glee club because not only were they best friends, but Kitty's belt could melt faces and she could dance her ass off.

When Kitty joined glee club, Blaine introduced her to his other best friend, Sam. Sam Evans was the quarterback of the McKinley Titans and he towered over Blaine. And it's on the down low, but Blaine's like the only person who knows that Sam's blond locks came from a bottle for just two payments of $19.99. They bonded over a mutual love of comic books, video games, and music. They're basically platonic soul mates or kindred spirits, if you will. When they met, the two felt like they finally had someone to gush to about Batman while battling it out on Super Smash Bros. Brawl and humming along to David Bowie in the background. Basically, with Sam, Blaine could bro-out and be one of the guys. He never once felt uncomfortable about being himself, and Sam was completely chill with being best bros with a gay guy.

"I've never really been this close with a gay dude before," he'd said, "but if all gay dudes are like you, I'd say I love the gays, man."

The three quickly became a sort of triumvirate-Kitty the Head Cheerio, Sam the quarterback, and Blaine the star of the New Directions, the school's award winning glee club. Once he became a Cheerio, the trio only gained further recognition in the school hallways, as their bright red uniforms attracted glances and stares from all directions during class changes. Blaine loved the attention to which his friends had already been so accustomed. Only, there was one problem. This one particular person wasn't all that impressed with the "teen royalty" Kitty proclaimed the three of them to be.

That person was Sebastian Smythe.

Sebastian Smythe was an enigma. Nobody knew anything about the boy aside from the fact he was about 6'2, had the most striking green eyes Blaine had ever seen, and an affinity for wearing leather jackets atop his v-necks that fit oh-so perfectly to his well-built torso. He was a fine specimen of a male, hair coiffed to convey that all he did was run his fingers through it in the morning and a cocky smirk adorned his face everywhere he went. Some said he had to repeat his senior year at McKinley because before he transferred he'd beaten a kid up at his old school just for looking at him the wrong way. Others said it was because he was charged with public intoxication and has an expulsion and a misdemeanor filed under his name. Blaine didn't know what to make of the guy. He had heard in the locker room that Sebastian had been caught with a girl up against the wall in the janitor's closet, giving it to her so hard that her moans got them caught by Principal Figgins himself. So, therefore, Blaine hadn't seen Sebastian recently. His suspension had prevented that, not that it interfered with Blaine's daily routine in any way. Sebastian never paid Blaine any mind. Blaine wasn't sure he even knew he existed.

Blaine undid the buttons of his pea coat, and slid it from his shoulders before hanging it in his locker. He ran his fingers over the spines of several textbooks, feeling the texture of their titles before pulling out the books assigned for his first two bells of the day. As he closed his locker, there was Sam applying a tube of cherry Chapstick to his lips with a dopey grin.

Blaine stared at his best friend's lips for a moment before meeting his eyes and offering him a warm smile. "Mornin', Sam. Didn't expect to see you here before the tardy bell," he quipped, motioning for his friend to follow him down the hall to make their way to class.

Sam rolled his eyes as he stuffed the tube of lip balm into his jeans. He smoothed his lips together and gave them a pop before scoffing at Blaine's remark. "Give a guy some credit, dude. Went to bed early 'cause I sucked balls in the Call of Duty tourney last night. I owe Abrams like fifty bucks now."

Blaine's jaw dropped in feigned shock. "Sam Evans, CoD tourney loser? I don't know if I can be seen with you, dude." He smirked and nudged his friend's shoulder. "That's not like you at all though, man. What's gotten into you?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno dude, guess I've just had a lot on my mind lately." He slung his arm over Blaine's shoulder as he guided them to their English classroom.

That was oddly cryptic. Blaine grew curious. He'd try his hand at prying. "Try not to think too hard, it'll turn your brain to mush," he teased, leaning into Sam's side. "In all seriousness though, if there's anything you need to talk about you know I'm here for you, right?" He felt Sam's body stiffen next to him.

He cleared his throat and nodded as he removed his arm from around Blaine's shoulder. "Yeah, dude, 'course I know that. It's nothing worth talking about though. I'm sure it'll blow over in time. Things always do," he flashed Blaine a reassuring smile. Blaine returned the smile with a nod. He supposed he was right. They walked the rest of the way to class in silence.

As they entered the classroom, Sam made his usual morning rounds, fist bumping a few of the football players who all nodded casually in Blaine's direction. Blaine smiled back warmly as he was greeted and moved down the third row to his usual desk. He sat down in his chair and reached into his satchel to pull out his binder and his copy of Heart of Darkness before setting them on his desk. He nodded politely to Tina Cohen-Chang, one of his friends from glee club and the Cheerios, as she sat down in her desk next to his. She made small talk, chatting about her boyfriend Mike, another one of the Titans who Blaine knew from games. She vented about his mother's new taste for panda hair tea that she forced Mike and Tina to drink since it supposedly would prevent them from contracting mononucleosis. Blaine had excellent listening skills and manners so he listened intently and nodded at the necessary spots in their conversation, but all he could do was focus on the empty desk next to Tina. He would steal glances at the empty chair, thinking of the boy who usually occupied it.

Okay, so maybe Blaine had a small crush on Sebastian Smythe. Blaine knew it was ridiculous. First of all, the boy didn't even speak to him and it wasn't clear if he was even aware of Blaine's existence or not. Second of all, all the times he had ever heard Sebastian speak, he seemed like a total ass. It was always a snarky comment followed by a cocky grin and a dose of I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. Blaine tried to tell himself it wasn't even a crush, just a physical attraction. He couldn't deny the guy was hot in an "I'm a dark and brooding badass and want you to think I'm a dark and brooding badass but I'd never admit I'm a dark and brooding badass" kind of way.

Blaine snapped back into reality as Ms. Beiste, their English teacher, more commonly known to the football team as Coach Beiste, stood to begin the lesson.

"Alright, you had assigned reading in your novels last night-"

Coach Beiste was cut off by the entrance of Sebastian Smythe, giving her a nod with his signature, cocky smirk plastered on his face as he sulked to his row, flung his bag to the floor, and plopped down in his chair. Blaine stole a glance and noted how good he looked this morning. He had on a black leather jacket and beneath that was a red and black plaid button down atop a black and white striped v-neck. He sat with his legs far apart, slumping ever so slightly in his seat; it looked like he owned the place. Coach Beiste gave Sebastian a look that could only be one of judgment and annoyance that he was tardy for her class. She shook her head, clearly not interested enough in the "troubled" teen to question him, and continued.

"Like I was saying, you had assigned reading. Get your ducks in a row and make sure you're up to speed. We're going to bust out a few quizzes and plow on through with an essay and a test on the book here within the next couple of weeks so be prepared for that…"

Blaine tuned her out, not interested in what she had to say any longer. Sure he was the type to be focused in class, but it was a Monday, and it was Sebastian's first day back from his suspension. Might as well spend the class period thinking of all the things Sebastian might have done over his little "vacation." Must be great to have a reputation such as his where he could just walk into class whenever and however he pleased without a second glance from a person of authority. Blaine contemplated Sebastian Smythe for the entire period, his mind only moving from Sebastian when he had to jot down a few bio points on Joseph Conrad or take note of the major themes and motifs to look for in his reading.

Once first period ended, the morning was a blur. Blaine worked on a presentation on federalism for his government class, and then gave a speech on the importance of using the eclectic approach when examining psychological issues in psychology. When the bell signaling lunch rang, Blaine couldn't have been more excited to head to the cafeteria. As he waited in the lunch line, one of his friends from glee club, Mercedes Jones, had informed him that it was tater tots day. Blaine made his way to his usual table, one in the center of the lunchroom where he, Sam, Kitty, and a mix of jocks, Cheerios, and glee clubbers sat together. Blaine smiled at Kitty, who raised an eyebrow as she looked down at his lunch tray.

"You better get down on your knees tonight and pray that the good Lord is with you, Blaine, because if Coach Sylvester finds out that you're putting food saltier than Zizes' vagina in your system she'll have you scarfing down bottles of Ipecac," she said, as she twirled her ponytail between two fingers.

Blaine rolled his eyes playfully. "Great to see you too, Kit Kat," he picked up a tater tot and popped it in to his mouth, making an effort to chew slowly. "Mmm fried starch," he said with a wink.

Kitty pursed her lips and shook her head. "A glutton for punishment. You do know that gluttony is a sin, Blaine, one of the seven deadly ones?"

Blaine shrugged as he continued to eat his lunch. From across the room, Blaine caught a glimpse of Sebastian entering the cafeteria with his hands shoved in the pockets of his tight, black jeans. He looked away quickly, back down at his tray, trying to not steal glances in Sebastian's direction as he passed their table on his way to the line. Kitty observed Blaine with a sly smile on her face and stared Sebastian down as he strutted by their table, only to get lost in the crowd rushing to the line-clearly tater tots day had excited the general public.

She smirked as she cocked her head to the side, still twirling her ponytail between her fingers. "Now that's one piece of meat this cat could devour." She glanced at Blaine and grinned.

Blaine laughed and rolled his eyes. "I thought you didn't do men, Kitty."

Kitty shrugged. "Well, a girl has her needs, who could blame me for wanting someone to get this kitten to purr every now and then?" Blaine didn't know if he was more amused by the overuse of cat metaphors or the fact that the face of McKinley's celibacy club wanted a guy to get her 'kitten' to purr.

He shook his head, popping another tater tot in his mouth. "Pounce on that then," he said offhandedly. Of course, Blaine just had to make conversation; never in his life would he actually want Kitty to consider getting with Sebastian because it would be disastrous. First of all, Kitty's claws didn't just scratch, they dug and dragged until the skin was non-existent. And second of all, well, the second reason was obvious.

Kitty thought for a moment and shrugged once more. "Hm, maybe. I mean I do need a date for the party Saturday."

She had been referring to Noah Puckerman's annual Halloween party. Everyone went; it was one of the biggest events of the year. There were costumes, dancing, alcohol and substances galore, and it was always a ton of fun.

Blaine glanced down the table and opened his mouth to speak but Kitty put a hand up, stopping him.

"And don't you even suggest I ask the living Ken doll who can't read, he reminds me of a cartoon penis. I'd ask the half-rican but he's been so far up Boob-less' ass that I'm surprised he hasn't been sent home with a serious case of conjunctivitis by now."

Blaine glanced down the table at Ryder, Jake, and Marley, hoping none of them had heard Kitty's insults. Luckily Jake and Ryder were too busy talking with Sam about the Call of Duty tourney the night before and Marley had been distracted, scribbling something in her journal.

Blaine nodded understandingly to Kitty. "Okay, well, why don't you just go stag?"

Kitty was thoughtful again, but she shook her head. "No, any other time I'd be flattered that you realize that I'm Miss Independent and I don't need a man on my arm to make an entrance, but this year I want to do couple costumes as sweet baby Jesus and his slim momma the not-so-Virgin Mary."

Blaine looked at her with a bemused expression. "You don't find that the least bit blasphemous?"

Kitty tossed her ponytail behind her back and shrugged as she dug in her purse to pull out a nail file. "Well, if my priest doesn't approve I'll just come as Catwoman."

The day dragged on, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to go home, lock himself in his room, and play around on his piano until bedtime. Unfortunately, he had Cheerios practice that afternoon. The final bell of the day rang and students emptied from classrooms, pouring in to the hallways. As Blaine exited his physics class, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced down having received a text from Sam.

"Yo, B! Wanna chill after practice today?"

Blaine smiled and started typing a response. "Yeah, man, sounds like a plan! What do you want to d-"

Blaine felt his shoulder crash in to something. He looked up quickly only to be met by an awful glare from Sebastian Smythe.

"Watch where you're going, Anderson."

Sebastian continued down the hall, straightening his leather jacket and running his fingers through his hair as he exited the main doors to the building.

Blaine stood there taken aback for a moment. He just learned two things, one, don't text and walk down a crowded hallway at the same time, and two, Sebastian Smythe knew his name. Well, his last name, but still, he knew who he was. Blaine bit his lip and he smiled widely as he continued down the hall to the athletics wing to Cheerios practice.

He entered the locker room and threw his stuff in his gym locker before finishing off his text to Sam.

"Yeah, man, sounds like a plan! What do you want to do?"

Blaine stalled in the locker room, waiting for Sam's reply before he headed out to the field; Coach Sylvester had a zero tolerance policy for cell phone use while at practice.

His phone buzzed. "I dunno, just chill. Maybe grab a bite to eat? It'll be fun. When am I not fun? ;)"

Blaine smiled down at his phone and shook his head. He had a point, there was never a dull moment when he and Sam were together. "Hard to argue with that. See you after practice, loser. ;)"

Blaine put his phone in his gym locker and headed out to the field for practice. He thought about the way he'd crashed in to Sebastian, as if something as cliché as fate had Sebastian Smythe walk by him at the same time he'd been texting in the hallway. He thought of how as he crashed in to him, he could smell him; he had taken in a whiff of his scent. He smelled like cologne-expensive cologne-and leather, and smoke. Sebastian glared at him, but all he could focus on were those green eyes, so mysterious and dark.

So, Blaine Anderson was a masochist, not in the sexual sense, but in the sense that he seemed to take pleasure in his own self-inflicted pain. Sebastian was not the friendly type, not the type of person to even associate with Blaine or his friends. Sebastian was the closed-off type, the untouchable kind of guy. He had an air of mystery about himself. Blaine Anderson was interested in him—intrigued and curiously infatuated-and he didn't know how on earth he would ever get over it if he kept making something of little incidents such as a shoulder bump in the crowded school hall.