This story was inspired by a documentary I watched a few weeks ago (and partly by Criminal Minds). I know there are probably hundreds of this kind of fics, but I wanted to try it myself and here's the result of that.

The story starts at some point after Mr. Schue's wedding but before Shooting Star.

Warning: minor violence and (even though saying it betrays what the fic is about:) stalking. Also spoilers for season 4 of Glee.

(I rated this fic T, but if anyone thinks it should be M, please let me know so I can change that.)

Discaimer: I don't own Glee or any of its characters.

Paranoid.

"Sam, can you please come over?"

Sam could clearly hear the fear in Blaine's voice now, which meant there really was something wrong. As his best friend, he knew Blaine better than anyone and therefore he knew the guy was an expert at hiding his feelings – except when Kurt and their break-up were involved.

"Okay, I'm on my way. Don't let anyone in until I get there, alright?"

Blaine wasn't sure when it had all started. At first, it had seemed like a coincidence. After all, you'd have to be pretty paranoid to think you're being followed just because you saw the same car twice in two days, right? That's what he thought. Besides, he hadn't paid any attention to the licence plate the first time, so it might have been a different car of the same model the second time he saw it.

Over the next weeks, he kept seeing the same car – and this time he had checked the plate –, which always seemed to be going in the same direction as he was. It struck him as odd, of course, but for all he knew, the car belonged to someone who lived in the neighbourhood and worked somewhere near McKinley. After a while, he forgot about it as more pressing matters – like the Warblers, Kurt, Mr. Schue's wedding and Kurt – occupied his mind.

Until he started getting notes.

They didn't really say much: most just "Hello" or something similar, others complimenting him on how he looked that day.

He had subtly confronted Tina about them, presuming they came from her, but she claimed she had never seen them before. He wasn't sure whether to believe her at first. After all, her crush on him wasn't exactly a secret anymore. But she kept denying any involvement and, eventually, he started to believe her. Together, they tried to find out who was leaving the notes, but they came up empty.

"Maybe you should tell someone about this," Tina said one day.

"Like who?"

"I don't know. A teacher or Miss Pillsbury. Or maybe your parents."

"Oh, come on, Tina. It's not that bad. They're just notes. And the occasional gift. So I have a secret admirer. No big deal. At least I'm not getting bullied."

She had to agree he had a point. They decided it was probably some freshman or sophomore who was too shy to approach Blaine face-to-face.

It only really got weird and worrisome when the phone calls began. They were from a number he didn't recognise, calling him at the most random moments, like when he was in class or during lunch and sometimes even in the middle of the night. Whenever Blaine picked up, there was no sound on the other side of the line.

One day, when his phone went off during lunch, he politely but firmly asked whoever was calling him to leave him alone. As it turned out, that didn't help. On the contrary, it only made things worse. The number of calls only increased, so much so that he started turning off his phone every evening before he went to bed and every morning before class, only to be confronted with numerous silent messages on his voice mail when he turned it back on.

In addition to the notes, he now also found pictures of himself in his locker. Judging by the angle from which they had been taken, it seemed as though the photographer had been hiding while taking them.

Sam found out about what was happening around the time the pictures began arriving. He had been in the cafeteria with Blaine and some of the other New Directions when Blaine had gotten a phone call. Blaine had grimaced and walked out to the hallway before picking up. And of course, as a concerned friend, Sam had followed him out. It hadn't been his intention to eavesdrop on him, but he knew Blaine usually didn't have a problem with answering his phone in front of his friends, so Sam deducted there must be something wrong.

"Okay, whoever you are," he heard Blaine saying, a hint of frustration in his voice, "I would appreciate it if you would stop calling me. If you have something to say to me, please just say it, otherwise, leave me alone."

With a sigh, he ended the call and turned his phone completely off.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, visibly startling Blaine.

"Yeah, I hope so."

Blaine didn't seem to want to elaborate, but Sam didn't give up easily.

"What was that about?"

"Just..." Blaine hesitated, probably wondering whether to tell his friend or to come up with some excuse. "Someone's been calling me. I don't know who it is because he or she never says anything. And I don't know the number either."

"Maybe it's Sebastian?" Sam mused. "As some kind of revenge for having the Warblers disqualified?"

"I don't think so. His number is still in my phone, I would have recognised it."

"He could have used another phone. Like that of one of the new members."

Blaine shook his head in denial.

"I don't know, Sam. Sebastian has never exactly been subtle. If he wants something, he'll go for it head on. Besides, what would he gain from this?"

Sam had to admit he didn't know the answer to that.

A few days later, Blaine suddenly pulled him into an empty classroom with a grim expression on his face, closing the door.

"Where's the fire?" Sam asked confused.

Blaine cut straight to the chase.

"It's gotten worse."

"The phone calls?"

Blaine nodded. He reached into his bag and laid a pile of pictures on one of the tables, spreading them out. They were all of Blaine.

"Who took these?"

"I have no idea. They were in my locker."

Sam was rendered speechless for a few minutes. This was getting really creepy.

"Dude... What if you have a stalker?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Blaine dismissed the thought. "Obviously, someone is playing some kind of prank on me. We need to find out who."

"Do you think Coach Sylvester might be behind this?"

"Huh, there's an idea. But why would she do that? I'm already on the Cheerios, what more does she want?"

"I think you should ask her."

"She'll probably deny it."

"Yeah, but I know you can tell when she's lying. It's like a superpower."

"That's true."

They decided to confront her after lunch. While Sam lingered outside the door, Blaine knocked and walked in without waiting for a response. He knew he had to act as confidently as possible if he wanted a straight answer from the teacher. He threw the pictures on her desk so that she could see them.

"Are these yours?" he asked, not giving her a chance to speak. "'Cause if they are, I want you to stop. And while you're at it, you can stop calling too. It's creepy. You already got me to join the Cheerios, what else could you possibly want from me?"

Coach Sylvester looked taken aback, as if she were genuinely surprised to see the pictures.

"Honestly, Frodo, I'm shocked that you think I would do something like that."

Blaine scoffed as he thought of how far she had gone to get Blaine on the Cheerios. He was just about to bring that to her attention when she continued.

"Sit down, B. Now, I'm only going to say this once because I can only stand the stench of your gel for so long before I feel the spontaneous need to get a detoxification. I have nothing to do with this. Why would I? I already have you right where I want you." She motioned to the pictures. "These wouldn't be worth anything as blackmail material anyway. You're not even doing anything scandalous in them; you're just standing there."

Blaine looked at her in astonishment. The problem was that he actually believed the Coach; what she said made sense in a weird way.

"So this wasn't you?"

He finally sat down in the chair, feeling his spirits drop again now that he knew he was still no step closer to finding the person who was responsible for this.

"No. Where did you get these anyway?"

"Um, they were in my locker."

Under her scrutinising gaze, he proceeded to tell her all about the phone calls, pictures, notes and even decided to describe the car that seemed to be following him lately. He didn't know why, but in a way, he was relieved that an adult was now informed about the situation, even if it was Coach Sylvester, usually the least helpful of all teachers.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Just you and Sam. And I told Tina about the notes."

"I see." She sat back in her chair. "Well, that was all very interesting, but I don't see how this is of any relevance to me and, frankly, I think I'm starting to hallucinate from the fumes of the enormous amount of gel in your hair."

Blaine gaped at her open-mouthed.

"That's it?"

"That's it. Now scram."

Blaine stood up and left the office somewhat disappointed without noticing the concerned look on the Coach's face. In the hallway, Sam was still waiting for him.

"And?"

Blaine shook his head. He hated to admit it, but Sam's suspicion that he might have a stalker seemed more plausible every day.

The next week was a picture-and-note-free one. Blaine still had to turn off his phone all the time, but he didn't receive any notes or pictures anymore, making him suspect someone was intercepting them before he got to see them.

His problem was momentarily pushed to the back of his mind when two shots were fired inside the school, but in the aftermath of that, the situation escalated. The tone of the notes changed, becoming angry, stuff went missing both from his locker and from his room at home. Sam advised him to got to the police. But since they had no clue who was behind it, there wasn't much the police could do. They dismissed him saying there was probably someone with an innocent crush on him and leaving Blaine feeling helpless and even more frustrated.

On top of that, he was getting paranoid. Every minute of every day, he had the feeling he was being watched. However, since he knew there wasn't anything he or anyone could do until they had the identity of his stalker, Blaine tried to forget about it as much as possible by focusing on the set list for Regionals.

On the outside, he seemed as confident as always, but on the inside, he was scared and freaking out.

Blaine was nervous. He had been nervous all evening. For the first time since the shooting at school, Blaine was home alone because his parents had some party to go to that one of his father's colleagues threw for his fiftieth birthday. He had contemplated asking Sam to come over, but it was a Friday and he knew that was a special night at the Hudmels' house. He also knew that Kurt had just come home for his dad's appointment next week, which was another reason he didn't want to disturb them.

He turned up the volume of the television in an attempt to distract himself, but that didn't work. In the back of his mind, the idea kept playing that his stalker had already managed to get into his room before to take some of his stuff, even though he had no tangible proof of that. He stood up and walked around the living room to close all the curtains in an attempt to get a sense of safety back.

However, he stopped in his tracks when the sight of a familiar car parked on the other side of the road sent his heart plummeting to his stomach in fear. He couldn't see anyone in or near the car because it was so dark outside, but that did nothing to reassure him. He half-ran to the coffee table and grabbed his cell phone, turning down the volume of the television and wondering whether to call Sam anyway. He looked around the living room at the shadows cast there by the lights that were on, back at the window, at his phone. In the end, he decided he'd rather call and look like a fool than not call and be sorry afterwards. Sam would understand.

His best friend didn't pick up at first, so Blaine kept trying until he did.

"Come on, pick up, pick up," he muttered nervously.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sam." Blaine tried to keep his tone cheerful. "I, um, I was wondering if you wanted to come over, um, to watch a film or something..."

"Oh." Sam seemed a bit taken aback by the invitation. "You know, it's actually kind of late. I don't think Burt will let me. Why? What's going on?"

Of course Sam would know Blaine didn't just call.

"No, of course it's late. Just... I thought, um..."

"Blaine, just tell me what's going on."

"Well, um, my parents aren't at home. They're gone until tomorrow, so I'm alone and, um... There's a car parked in front of the house, it's just standing there."

"A car?"

He must sound like he'd gone crazy.

"It's the same one that's been following me," Blaine said hesitantly. "Sam, can you please come over?"

He didn't care that he sounded desperate and scared; he just wanted someone there.

"Okay, I'm on my way. Don't let anyone in until I get there, alright?"

"Yeah, alright. … Thank you."

"No problem, dude."

Convincing Burt to let him go this late in the evening was hard enough, but reassuring Kurt it wasn't necessary for him to come along proved to be near impossible.

"Sam," he said unwaveringly, his arms crossed, "I know you're hiding something. Blaine would never call and ask to come on a Friday night at eleven p.m. So don't tell me there's nothing to worry about and he invited you just for the fun of it."

"He's got a point, Sam," Burt agreed. "That doesn't really sound like Blaine."

"Okay, fine," Sam sighed, admitting defeat. "Blaine's gotten a bit paranoid lately. Not that I can blame him. Some weird things have been happening and now he's home alone and he's kind of freaking out."

"What kind of things?" Burt asked in concern.

Sam hesitated, uncertain whether or not he should confide in them. It wasn't that Blaine had made him promise to keep this to himself, but he knew that his friend hadn't even told his parents because he "didn't want them to worry." In the end, Sam decided it might be best if the Hummels knew.

"I think he has a stalker."

As soon as he had hung up the phone, Blaine felt a surge of relief. He might be paranoid, but at least he wouldn't be alone for much longer. Just as he was about to get comfortable on the couch again, his cell phone rang. Thinking it might be Sam, he glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number.

Blaine frantically hit the 'End' button, repeating the action when another call came in a moment later. Not daring to turn the device off completely in case Sam did try to reach him, he put it in silent mode. He tried to ignore the incessant sound of the buzzing, until it eventually stopped of its own accord.

Then the home phone began ringing, startling him so much that he almost jumped a metre into the air. He took the portable phone from its socket, wondering whether he should answer it. For all he knew, his parents might be checking in on him. Wouldn't they try his cell first, though?

"Hello?"

"Hello, Blaine," a voice he vaguely recognised said. "It's nice to hear your voice again after you've been ignoring me for weeks."

"Who are you?" Blaine made an effort to keep his voice from shaking. "What do you want from me?"

The man chuckled.

"Oh, Blainey, I don't want anything from you. And you know who I am. After all, you were smiling at me so beautifully when we met."

Although Blaine had no idea what the man was talking about, he now knew his stalker was someone he had seen at least once before. He racked his brain looking for clues as to who the mystery man as, but came up with nothing.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I want you to stay away from me," Blaine said angrily, hanging up with more force than necessary.

"Too late."

Blaine turned around towards the kitchen door, where a dark figure was standing, a phone in his hand and a triumphant smirk on his face.

Sam was watching the road from the back seat of Burt's car, while Kurt gave his father directions to his ex-boyfriend's house. After Sam had explained everything that had been happening, there was no way he could keep them from going with him. He tried Blaine's phone, but there was no answer, which he knew wasn't normal. If he were in Blaine's position, he'd be practically glued to his phone.

He sighed in frustration, rubbing his face and making a quick calculation. It had been fifteen minutes since Blaine's call and he knew it would take at least fifteen more minutes before they arrived at his house.

Blaine stared incredulously at the man standing in the door frame. He must have gotten in through the back door, although Blaine was more than a 100% certain he had locked that door right after his parents had left. As he studied the familiar face, he realised where he recognised him from. A few weeks ago, there had been a problem with his cell phone, so he had gone to a phone shop where this man had helped him. They had made polite conversation while the shop assistant looked at his phone.

"You're the guy from the shop," he blurted out, trying hard to remember his name. "Um... Barney? No, um..."

"It's Danny," the slightly older man snapped, obviously annoyed that Blaine didn't even remember his name. Only a second later, he was smiling pleasantly again. "It doesn't matter. I've been waiting for your parents to go out so that we could finally have some privacy."

"What for?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, dear. I know you like me. I've seen it when you came to the shop."

"What?"

Blaine's mind was reeling. What was it with people thinking he was flirting with them when he was just trying to be friendly? And evidently, this guy had somehow deluded himself into thinking there was something going on between the two of them.

"I figured that since you're parents aren't home, we could have a nice date. Just you and me. After all, we finally have the whole place to ourselves."

"Not for long," Blaine tried. "My parents will be back soon..."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say as Danny's expression darkened.

"Why are you lying to me?" He sounded disappointed. "I know your parents won't be back until tomorrow. I heard them talking about it when they left for work, about how they would book a night in a nearby hotel so that they wouldn't have to make the hour's drive back in the middle of the night."

The way he said it made it sound like he was quoting someone. Danny took a few steps towards him, approaching slowly.

"You shouldn't lie, Blaine. You do know that a relationship is all about trust, right? How am I supposed to trust you if you lie to me?"

Blaine didn't know what to say. Danny's words reminded him of what Kurt had said all those months ago, but it was an entirely different situation now. He hadn't done anything wrong this time. Hell, he barely even knew this guy.

"Listen, Danny, I think this is getting way out of hand. There's nothing going on between us, okay? Maybe you've gotten the wrong idea when I came to the shop, but we're not even friends. And quite frankly, you're creeping me out, with the notes and the pictures and the phone calls and all that. So I want you to leave right now and stay away," he added forcefully.

It stayed quiet for a while. Danny had come to a halt in the middle of the living room while Blaine talked, now standing a few feet away from him. Meanwhile, Blaine was making a mental inventory of everything in the room, deliberating what could be of help. He knew both phones were lying on the coffee table; he had heard his cell phone buzzing a few minutes ago. However, if he was going to try calling the police, he had to somehow distract Danny. Even better would be getting him out of the house, but it didn't look like the latter was planning on leaving any time soon.

Danny took another step closer.

"You want me to stay away?" he asked disbelievingly. "Blaine, we could be so good together. The moment you stepped into the shop, I immediately felt a spark, a connection between us."

He closed the remaining distance between them and took the teenager's hand.

"What's stopping you, Blaine? Is it the age difference? Because I'm really not that much older. And in a couple of years, no one will care anymore."

Blaine pulled his hand firmly back, shoving Danny hard to keep him at bay, causing him to stumble back.

"Get away from me! I'm not interested, why is that so difficult for you to understand?"

Danny quickly recovered from his surprise and drew closer again while Blaine stood his ground.

"You're not interested? No, I don't believe you. ... There's someone else, isn't there? Is there?" He prodded Blaine's shoulder accusingly. "It's the blonde guy, isn't it? Tell me!"

Suddenly, he grabbed Blaine by the collar of his shirt, causing him to react in a defensive way stemming from years of boxing experience. There was a moment of pushing and shoving back and forth until Blaine managed to free himself from Danny's grip. When Danny tried to get to him again, Blaine lashed out with a right hook he had practised many times before, although never on a human target. Not expecting the action, Danny took a hit to his jaw, which only increased his rage. When he charged, Blaine acted on instinct. Before he knew what was happening, Danny was lying on the ground with Blaine standing next to him, staring disbelievingly at the clock in his hand.

Pulling himself out of his stupor, he put the clock back where it belonged and rushed to the phones on the coffee table. Sam had called him a few times, but his friend could wait. First, he needed to call the police.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, hello, my name is Blaine Anderson. Someone broke into my house. He's been stalking me and my parents aren't at home and he just broke in."

"Okay, sir. Can you give me your address so I can send someone to your place?"

Blaine gave his address to the operator, looking over his shoulder at the man still lying prone on the ground.

"Help is on the way, sir. Where is this man now? Is he still in the house?"

"Yes, he is. I guess I kind of knocked him out. What do I do?"

"Just remain calm and stay where you are. Maybe try to find something to restrain him until the officers arrive."

"Okay. I think we have–"

All of a sudden, the phone was knocked out of his hand and Blaine was thrown to the ground. He rolled onto his back in order to get back to his feet, but immediately a heavy weight settled on his chest while a pair of hands found their way to his neck and started squeezing. Through the pain, Blaine could vaguely hear the voice of the operator calling out to him, but he couldn't get any air in or out of his lungs to shout.

"If I can't get you," Danny growled above him, "no one will."

Blaine frantically tried to hit him in the face again, but he couldn't reach high enough. Changing tactics, he attempted to use his legs to throw his assailant off, but the way Danny was straddling him made that impossible. He did manage to throw him off balance, which gave him a short moment of reprieve and enabled him to take a tiny breath before the pressure on his throat was back.

Black spots were now starting to appear. Blaine was still struggling to get away, but he was aware his efforts were growing weaker. Despite all of his boxing experience, there was nothing he could do; Danny was much stronger than him. He could feel unconsciousness pulling at him, but desperately fought to stay awake, hoping someone would be there soon.

Having recognised the car in front of Blaine's house, Sam was out of the car before Burt had even parked properly, ignoring Kurt's shout and bolting for the back door. He knew there was a key hidden underneath one of the flowerpots in the garden, but when he got there, he realised it wouldn't be necessary to search for it since the door was already unlocked. He ran through the kitchen to the living room, followed by Kurt judging from the footsteps behind him. What he saw there nearly stopped his heart. Blaine was lying on the ground next to the coffee table, getting strangled by someone Sam had never seen before.

"Oh my God," he heard Kurt mutter behind him.

As he noticed Blaine's feeble attempts to save himself, Sam knew he had to act quickly. Running on automatic pilot, he tackled the stranger in a true quarterback fashion.

While Sam was rolling on the ground, struggling to overpower the stalker, Kurt was shocked into action when Blaine turned onto his side, gasping for breath and coughing. He was by the boy's side in less than three steps and instantly pushed him back onto his back, opening a few buttons of his shirt to make it easier for him to breathe.

By now, Burt had caught up with the two teenagers and was helping Sam to keep the shop assistant from escaping. While Sam pressed him against the wall, holding one of his arms behind his back, Burt went back into the kitchen to find something to restrain him with, eventually returning with a roll of tape. When they were sure the perpetrator couldn't run off, Burt turned to Blaine, who was sitting on the ground with his eyes tightly closed, leaning against Kurt and still slightly coughing.

Kurt could feel the shudders running through his ex-boyfriend as he struggled to breathe properly.

"You okay, Blaine?" Burt asked, crouching in front of him.

Blaine nodded, trying to control his breathing.

"All right, I'm going to call the police."

Burt made to grab the phone on the table when Blaine spoke up, coughs interlacing his words.

"I already... did."

"They're on the way?"

Blaine nodded again.

"Good."

Kurt helped his ex stand up shakily. He intended to sit him down on the couch, but Blaine seemed to have other plans. Abruptly freeing himself from Kurt's grip, he took a few steps closer to the man standing by the wall, guarded by Sam. Blaine angrily made a move to hit him, taking everyone in the room by surprise, but Sam stopped him just in time and held him back.

"You are nothing to me, you creep," he rasped furiously. "Stay away from me, you hear me?"

Kurt came up to them to help Sam keep Blaine from attacking the man. He gripped his arms again and half-dragged him through the kitchen out the back door.

"Come on, let's go wait for the police outside."

They sat waiting on the front garden wall, each immersed in their own thoughts. Kurt tried to discreetly look Blaine over, checking whether he was okay, and noticed how he was rubbing his abused throat. Thinking of Blaine's outburst, he decided not to ask him any questions at that moment; they could talk later. He knew Blaine didn't often lose his temper, usually keeping it all bottled up inside, but when he did, it meant he had been pushed way too far. According to what Sam had told them, the stalking had been going on for weeks, long enough to push Blaine over that mental edge.

Blaine was standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom adjoining the guest room in the Hudmel's house, which was currently occupied by Sam. Overnight, the bruises had become much darker and thus more pronounced. Voices floated in from the bedroom, but they were hushed, as if they didn't want him to hear them.

"... anything at all?"

"No, not a word." That was Sam. "You know, maybe we should just give him some space. I'm sure he'll come to either one of us when he's ready to talk."

"Sam, I just want to help him. He'll hide if we don't make him talk about this."

"He'll talk when he's ready to."

Blaine rolled his eyes and decided this would be a good moment to make his appearance.

"I can hear you, you know," he said in a still raspy voice, coming out of the bathroom. He was secretly pleased to see Kurt jump slightly in surprise.

"Blaine, your neck..."

"They're just bruises, they don't even hurt that much," he lied. In reality, it hurt whenever he talked or swallowed, so he decided to keep those to a minimum.

"I think you should go see a doctor," Kurt insisted. "I read this article about the consequences of strangulation and, according to that, seemingly harmless symptoms can be much worse than you might think."

Now even Sam looked alarmed.

"Dude, Kurt has a point. Better safe than sorry, right?"

He looked for confirmation at Kurt, who nodded.

"Right."

Blaine sighed in annoyance.

"Fine, I'll go. Happy now?"

"Very."

Breakfast was a silent affair. Both Kurt and Sam had picked up on Blaine's frustration earlier and had agreed not to bring it up again, despite their worries. Carole had already left for work, but Burt had decided to stay home until Blaine's parents came to fetch him. He had called them the night before and assured them that Blaine would be fine staying over at their house. Something told Blaine that his parents would probably be there before noon, especially after the shooting scare weeks ago.

Sure enough, the door bell rang around 11 o'clock. Burt stood up to let them in with Kurt in tow, probably to make sure his parents would have him checked out. While they were gone, Blaine could feel Sam's gaze on him.

"You know, um... If you want to talk, you know where to find me, right?"

"Yeah." He looked at his best friend. "Thank you, Sam. Not just for now, but yesterday too."

"Hey, no problem, man. That's what friends are for. I'm just glad we got there in time."

"Yeah, me too."

"Cool voice, by the way. Maybe this is a good time to do a Joe Cocker song in glee."

Blaine chuckled appreciatively, glad they could joke about it.

It was quiet again. But they both knew they'd talk some day. Eventually, Blaine would reveal how he had trouble sleeping, how he sometimes woke up unable to breathe, only to discover there wasn't anything constricting his airway, how he was still afraid of accidentally making people believe he was flirting with them, how he still got plain scared sometimes.

Eventually, they'd talk. But not now.

The end.

Thoughts?

(I had an alternative ending in my head in which Sue saves the day before Sam&co get there, but decided I liked this ending better.)

(Something I didn't say before because I didn't want to spoil too much: the main reason I wanted to try this myself is because I wanted the stalker to be someone he didn't know very well. Most stalker fics I've read have Eli or Sebastian stalking Blaine or Kurt, so I wanted to make a difference in that respect, even though the main idea isn't exactly original.)