Authors Note:

Hey guys! So this is my first fanfiction. I am obsessed with Klaine, particularly Kurt, and this story has been at the back of my mind for a while now. It will be a multi-chaptered fic. Please please review so I know what you think of it, perhaps what you are expecting, also feel free to give any ideas on what you think should happen. :)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Glee or any characters

Argument

Blaine finished the last note of 'Misery' feeling rather proud of himself. He made his way over to Kurt, who was fitting a cover onto Pavarotti's cage. He had noticed that something was off about Kurt, while they were singing; Kurt's smile had seemed forced, and right now he looked like wanted nothing less than to be there. Blaine decided not to push the matter. Looking for something to break the silence, he said,

"Only you would have found a Burberry-esque canary cage cover."

As Kurt fussed over Pavarotti, Blaine found himself thinking Maybe he's alright after all. Maybe I just read him wrong. He decided to just go for it.

"So what did you think?"

..Aaand maybe not… Blaine had to fight to stop himself from rolling his eyes when Kurt mentioned 'Blaine and the Pips'. Anyone within 30 feet of him could tell that Kurt wasn't having a very good day. Today the most anyone would hear from him were sarcastic comments and snappy remarks. What nobody was expecting was when Kurt stopped halfway through stalking off and turned back to Blaine. He was looking paler than usual today, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He had been stretched almost to breaking point and this, it seemed was his release.

"You know what, Blaine, I am just sick of it. I am sick of working so hard, when everyone else here just breezes by, I am sick of having to blend in, I am sick of being a goddamn ukulele! Whenever I got to this point in Mckinley, I at least had my fashion, and my voice! Here, I have nothing! Nothing! And most of all, Blaine Anderson, I am just sick and tired of you!"

That definitely caught Blaine by surprise. He had an inkling that Kurt was feeling extremely out of place at Dalton, and had done everything he could to prevent those feelings, and ensure that his friend wasn't too bogged down by the heavy workload that was their daily coursework. But Blaine was utterly confused as to why he was the cause of Kurt's distress.

"Me?" he said, confusion evident in his voice.

"Yes, you!" snapped Kurt, going red with rage. "I am sick of your dapperness, and your polite robotic exterior! Why can't you be normal for once? Why is it that I must always be compared to you? Because actually, Blaine Anderson, you are not perfect. You are completely oblivious and extremely inconsiderate!"

The whole room went silent. All eyes were on the two boys, the slightly taller fuming one, and the dark-haired one facing him. To all but those who knew him well, he looked simply shocked. But amongst the crowd gathering at the magnificent double doors, Wes and David recognized a glint of anger in his hazel eyes. His jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes, as if to calm himself, taking a deep breath.

"Kurt," he said quietly. "Maybe we need to talk. Perhaps without an audience?" he said pointedly.

"Always the gentleman!" said Kurt throwing his hands up in the air. His voice dripped with sarcasm and he was giving Blaine his best bitch stare. Blaine saw red.

"Well, Hummel, you're not exactly perfect yourself. I tried to help you, but if you insist on throwing your little temper tantrums, I think we would all appreciate if you went somewhere else. If Dalton isn't satisfying your every need, then maybe you should go back to Mckinley. I'm sure you'll be much happier there." There was a collected intake of breath from the double doors, but Blaine was too angry at this point to care. Kurt was looking back at him. Shock filled his eyes, which had turned green in his anger, before he had turned on his heel and walked out of the door, but not before Blaine had shouted after him: "I'm sure Karofsky's missed his favourite punching bag!"

Kurt froze. He looked back and walked until he was right in front of Blaine. The shock had left his eyes, only to be replaced by a look of pure hatred. He looked down at Blaine, who was still seething and brought his hand up in a slap right across his face. For someone who looked so fragile, he sure had strength. Blaine's head snapped sideways at the impact. Kurt then looked at their onlookers, nodded and said curtly, "Gentlemen." He then proceeded to storm out of the room and slam the mahogany doors behind him.

Blaine turned around, clutching his still stinging cheek. Wes and David were looking at him with disappointment in their eyes. They shook their heads and walked out of the room after Kurt.

Kurt's walking increased rapidly, until he had broken into a full sprint. His anger had ebbed away, and now only hurt and determination remained. He thought he heard someone calling his name, but didn't stop. He ran to his dorm, and with shaking hands, unlocked the door. On the other side, he walked over to the heavy desk, and with some difficulty, dragged it so it acted as an effective barricade for the door.

He grabbed his bag and began packing anything worth taking. His phone, his laptop and his music. He had left most of his treasured designer clothes at his own house and he would certainly not miss the Dalton uniform. Whoever had been following him had caught up with him. From their voices, he knew them to be Wes and David.

Strange he thought Surely they would have backed their best friend. But he didn't allow himself to dwell on it. He hauled himself out of the window, looking back only once to give his room one last sweeping glance to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, then he jumped. As he had expected, he landed on the balcony of the teacher's lounge beneath his dorm. Climbing over the metal railing, he surveyed the drop beneath him. It was about 25 feet. He dropped, landing on both his feet. The impact wasn't as bad as he had expected. Being in the Cheerios must have toughened him up more than he thought. He reached the parking lot and got into his Navigator, flinging his bag onto the passenger seat. He then drove, away from Dalton, and never looked back. He hoped he would never see it again, though he expected he would be forced to return.

Funny he thought what was supposed to be my safe haven ended up being my prison. He chuckled darkly at the irony. Safely away from the ghastly, castle like school, Kurt pulled over to the side of a lonely country road. He brought his head down to the steering wheel and allowed the tears that had been threatening to spill all morning fall. He let gut-wrenching, heart-breaking sobs take over his body until he was subdued into a mere shivering mess. He then switched on the ignition, and drove back to Lima, tears still flowing freely down his cheeks.