Misery (A Dalton Fanfiction)

Chapter 2 - Some Kind Of Superstar

Right, finally, more than a week later, here's the next chapter. Hurray! I wrote it days ago, it's just finding the time to type it up that I have trouble with. Hope you enjoy it, vomments are love :) - xoxo

"Blaine!? Blaine, wait!" Kurt shouted, running after him, away from the still hysterical group of Dalton students. He didn't know where he was going, or why he was going but Blaine needed help. He'd only ever see one person look that mad before, himself, and he knew no person who looked that way was alright. He knew.

Suddenly, a sickening feeling washed over him, he had no idea where he was. Corridors twisted out infront of him, turning left, right, straight ahead. The commonroom was long gone behind him. He was lost. Panicking, he sped up, taking the nearest turn, walking into something coming the other way. With a loud thud Kurt flew to the ground, another body crashing down on his.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry." the boy on top of him stammered, scrambling up and turning an alarming shade of pink. He had a pretty face, for a guy, and a head of white blonde curls that he was running his fingers through manically, an expression of sheer terror in his huge, doe eyes, "Please don't kill me," he begged.

Kurt laughed at the small, pixie-like boy, "Why would I kill you?"

"Paint... Alexander McQueen... Your shirt." he stuttered, looking increasingly like he was going to burst into tears. Kurt looked down, letting out a cry. There was black paint splattered across his vintage shirt. It was ruined.

"I can pay for a new one." he insisted, his voice shaking, tears forming.

"Hey, calm down. It's fine, I promise you, it's fine." Kurt grinned, not in the slightest bothered about his shirt, it was from the Winter collection anyway.

"You Kurt, aren't you?" the other boy whispered, with a sudden realisation.

"Kurt Hummel, show choir diva and fashion enthusiast, at your service."

"Blaine never shuts up about you, I pretty much know your life story." the blonde smiled, still looking nervous as he played with the multicoloured friendship bracelets that decorated his wrists.

"You know Blaine?" the countertenor gaped, "Do you know where he went?"

The smaller boy smirked, " Everyone knows Blaine, he'll be in the choir room, he always is. I'm Taylor, I guess I'm your room mate."

---

Damien Crawshaw was practically a ledgend at Dalton Academy, in his mind anyway. He didn't care about the hateful glances he was getting as he strutted around West wing, he knew they'd be screaming his name one day. Sure, he didn't actually come into school often, but when he did he liked to think he created a buzz. He had movie star good looks, from the roots of his expensively highlighted hair to his deep bue, leather military boots. He was every teenage girl's dream, a fact that never failed to amuse him. Damien was gay. It was no secret at school, not that it would be difficult to guess from his flamboyant air and his tendency to paint his fingernails on a weekend.

He was the Warbler's soloist, and the son of Mark Crawshaw, from the pop group 'The Era'. People were just jealous of him, at least that's what he told himself, he couldn't think of any other reason he was so strongly disliked. Later, he would go and find Cal, the only person who could tolerate him, he worshipped him in fact. It felt good to have a minion. First though, he had to go visit the choir room, he wouldn't tell anyone but ti was the only place he felt comfortable, the only thing he missed when he was on the road with Dad.

"Bow down peasants, your god has arrived." he shouted, lips curling up into his signature, Chesire Cat grin as he burst through the doors with the grace of a catwalk model. He was met with only three sets of eyes sat around the piano, a disappointing turn out, he liked an audience.

"Damien." Blaine muttered, barely looking up from where his fingers rested on the piano keys, he was only too used to Damien's comings and goings, "You've been gone three months."

"Ah. Blaine, you still have triangles for eyebrows, do no one tell you that it's not cool to keep your pet caterpillars above your eyes?"

Blaine just rolled his eyes, no one listened to Damien, he was bitter and sarcastic, "Kurt, Taylor, this is Damien Crawshaw, he's the Warbler's lead vocalist... when he bothers to turn up."

Damien turned to study the two new boys, a skinny brunette, in a pale blue, paint stained shirt, who was staring adoringly at Blaine, their bodies brushing and faces blushing at their close proximity on the piano stool. The other boy caught Damien's gaze, looking away bashfully, the singer's breath hitched and for a second his world seemed to stand still, all he could see was the angel in front of him. Damien wasn't usually one for 'love at first sight' or any of that crap, but whoever he was, he was special.

He smiled, studying the perfection in front of him. Hell, he was adorable, with his ringlets that fell perfectly in his eyes and those rose coloured lips and the band badges on his blazer and his Pikachu backpack hanging of his shoulder. He was weird, Damien loved it.

"Hello gorgeous" he smiled coyly, causing Taylor to look behind him, searching for the real person this crazy boy was talking to. Kurt and Blaine shared a look, shoulders shaking as they restrained from laughing.

"I'm talking to you, angel, why haven't I seen you around before? I'm pretty sure I'd remeber that face."

Taylor froze, gripping the side of the piano in an attempt to keep himself upright.

"And so it begins..." sighed Blaine, sinking his head into his hands, "This is going to be a long year."