The Guilty Ones 》Glee/Klaine ✓

3. Skipping Classes

Blaine's blatant yawn was a dead giveaway of his late night to Nick, who had noticed his friend's tired eyes immediately.

"Psst! Blainers!" Nick hissed across the aisle of desks.

"Don't call me that..." he hissed back, refocusing his eyes on the journal entry he was supposed to be writing in for French class.

"Are you okay?" Nick ignored Blaine's comment. "You've been yawning since first period."

"Mr. Duval, Mr. Anderson," Mrs. Cunningham suddenly called out from her perch at the front of the French classroom. "Is there a problem?"

"Non, Madame Cunningham," Blaine replied promptly. "Nick just needed help with a translation."

"Mr. Duval can come see me if he needs assistance," she replied, peering at the pair through her horn-rimmed glasses. "Those journal entries better be completed and on my desk by the end of class."

"Oui, Madame Cunningham..." the boys both muttered, turning back to their paperwork.

Not even thirty seconds passed by before Nick was looking back up at Blaine. "I know something is up when my roommate is awake later than I am. What has got you all out of whack?"

"It's nothing. And shut up, before we get caught again..." Blaine finally whispered, looking at him through the corner of his eye.

The truth was, Blaine had been up half the night observing his crinkled sketch paper. That's what he had finally decided it was. It was too nice to be regular paper, but just plain enough to have been torn out from a sketchbook. Although he had come to that conclusion, he had still been left guessing what the actual content was supposed to signify...

He held it against the light, and against the wall. He folded it up and unfolded it again. Both his eyes and his fingertips had traced the wandering lines left from a firmly gripped lead pencil, which had covered the tracks multiple times. Beneath it must have been something beautiful, only to be destroyed with a harsh layer of scribbles.

Both with the scribbles and with Kurt himself, Blaine knew that there was something more underneath the surface.

The school bell's ring seemed to be a relief to all the students in their French class, all of whom eagerly packed up their materials to dart out the door.

"Well, if you haven't turned into a zombie by then, I'll see you after school at the Warblers rehearsal!" Nick said to Blaine as they turned their journals in to the teacher. "It should be a good turnout, from what Trent was saying."

"See you then," Blaine replied as he slung his leather bag onto his shoulder.

"Nick!" Jeff's blond head appeared in the doorway of the French classroom. "Ready for Home Ec.?"

"I'm coming!" Nick told him before muttering to Blaine under his breath, "Jeff has been taking this partner thing for the parenting stuff a little too seriously..."

Jeff held out a hand, and even with Nick's eye roll, he still gratefully accepted it as they walked to class together with interlocked fingers.

Blaine hadn't realized he had been staring at the empty doorway until Madame Cunningham spoke up. "Blaine? You don't want to be tardy for your next lesson."

"Oh! Of course," he snapped to attention. "Have a good afternoon, Madame."

The hallway traffic was already thinning out by the time he entered the corridor. There was no sign of Nick and Jeff, who must've headed for the Home Ec. classroom on the other end of the school.