� �With the absence of the nature walk, Blaine is far less dedicated to the 6am wake up time. Once everyone is awoken by his mouth trumpet, we are all informed that we can sleep for a maximum of two more hours. Then, its go time. There are sighs of relief and Jeff cussing Blaine out for waking us at all. But, a few minutes having passed, all is still again. Almost all.

���I, unfortunately, am the type of person who can not simply go back to sleep. While my entire cabin snores, I stare at the planks holding up the mattress—and bones— above me. I do not sleep. When I am awoken, I stay awake.

���As I lie there, contemplating getting dressed, I hear a voice mumble to itself. "Huh?" I reply, noncommittally. My logic is that if he was talking to me, hed repeat himself. If he wasnt, I can close my eyes and pretend I made the sound in my sleep.

���Blaines face pops into view. "Oh, Kurt, youre awake. Good morning." He smiles brightly. Evidently, Blaine and I suffer from a similar condition. "I was just wondering if the mess hall will serve me now." Or hes just hungry. "I know its an hour early, but the early bird gets the worm, right?" Hes peering cheerily at me, upside down, from his top bunk.

���"I dont know. You could ask." I offer.

���"Good idea, Kurt. Lets go." Before I can register it, Blaine is up and crawling to the ladder of his bed.

���"Woah, wait," isnt lets a contraction of let us? Like both of us? "Me? You want—let us— Im coming?"

���Stopping mid ladder, he smirks at me. "What else have you got to do?" He hops off the ladder and grabs his Sperrys, already fully dressed. "Nothing." He supplies, when I only stare back at him. "Youve got nothing else to do, Kurt. Come on." Dropping my own shoes on my bed, he relays the invitation casually to me, like weve done this every year together at Camp Brotherhood. He barely gives me enough time to tie my laces, before pulling me by the arm as he races outside. Too late, I realize I couldve pretended to be asleep.

�

���Stepping out of the cabin, still in my pajamas, the grass is wet with dew. Its been untouched, all other campers still in their cabins, sleeping or dressing for the day. Meanwhile, my day has already begun and its with Blaine Anderson: the Dreamsicle with the dark curly bed head and indescribably hot morning voice. And even though he keeps his beautiful morning voice to himself as we hurry to the mess hall, upon arrival it rings loud and clear.

���"I fucking knew it!" The few families who currently dine glance up at us. Yet, Blaine has no apologies. "Breakfast does not start at seven. Thats just what they tell us." Blaine conspires, grabbing a bowl and making a beeline for the cereal. "Thats what theyve always told us."

���"Who?" I dare ask, following him with a bowl of my own.

���"The big brother of Camp Brotherhood. The Wes of years past." He alludes. But, for a moment, he drops his passionate conspirateur voice to say, "you should try the fruit loops. Something about it here; they just always taste better. Seriously, Kurt, fruit loops." I take his suggestion, filling my bowl. "And try mixing your fruit punch with the lemonade sometime. I mean, not now. Get your coffee fix. But, like, at lunch.

���"See, now, I dont understand why we cant eat at six." Once weve staked out at table, hes back at it. "Hell, even five. Anytime but seven. Why seven? I always thought the mess hall opened at seven. But, clearly, not." Something, somewhere, heard my complaints about Blaine yesterday. My silly, misguided complaints. So, to prove me wrong, they have aligned the stars for this moment, in which this god among men has sat me down to discuss the blasphemy of breakfast over a bowl of fruit loops. Maybe, there is a god after all. How else would I end up here, with Blaine, like this? His hair is tousled from sleep, his voice becoming less gruff with every sprouting idea, his eyes so close and vibrant. I start to notice hints of green in them as they dart animatedly with his rant, until they fall to brown again, aligning with mine.

���"Kurt?" Startled out of my trance, I let my spoon clatter onto my tray. "Am I losing you?"

���"Oh, no. Nope. Youre...winning." I clear my throat, thinking thatll distract from my terrible save.

���Blaine only chuckles. "Im boring you. Ill step down from my soapbox."

���"Really, you werent-" I am silenced by Blaine waving the conversation away.

���"Enough about that. You excited for college?" Am I excited to answer this question for the uumpteenth time? No. "Freshman year, woo hoo!" Am I excited to talk to Blaine about it? Yes.

���And we do. For a glorious hour and forty five minutes, Blaine Anderson is fully and completely mine. Hes present and passionate and so god damn cute as he sits there and eats his cereal and looks me in the eyes and tells me to save all of my quarters for laundry days. And to always be early to lectures. And to keep a shower caddy. And to never accept a drink from a stranger at a party. �And that sometimes you gotta wear pajamas to class and thats okay. When my time with him is up, its only because he has to go back to make sure everyone else in the cabin is awake and getting ready. I, too, have to return to get dressed for the mandatory, and much dreaded, morning activity.

�

���"Alright guys, this here, if you dont know already, is the beautiful Lake Michigan." Wes announces. All of the cabins are gathered together on a dock, with Wes and his megaphone elevated by a bench. "And these are canoes." David gives his best Vanna White impression, gesturing alluringly to the racks of canoes. The group indulges them with humored ohs and ahs. "Yes, try to remember that. There will be a quiz after this." Wes jokes. "Now, these canoes can hold, safely, two of you. But, dont worry about breaking Bobbys heart, because you want to share your love trip down Lake Michigan with Carl."

���An older voice calls out from the crowd, "fuck you, Carl!" Causing the guys around me to laugh. I, however, am too distracted fighting off the mosquitos.

���Wes clears his throat to regain focus. "Weve already assigned partners." Theres general groans from the crowd, which are broken by a clear and histrionic gasp from Blaine when Wes announces that they will all be from different cabins.

���"But, my babies!" He cries, stepping protectively in front of our group. In response to Wess dirty look, Blaine grins charismatically and accepts a fist bump from Jeff.

���"As elementary school as this may sound, we are splitting you guys up so you can make new friends. We arent trying to torture you."

���"Oh! So, you dont deny the fact that youre trying to tear our family apart?" He cries back.

���"Blaine." Wes demands. "Set a good example for your family."

���Our leader turns a mock-remorseful gaze to us. "Im sorry, team blue. I was out of line."

���Jeff steps up next, "its alright, Blaine. We forgive you, right guys?" He asks, speaking like a character from Alvin and the Chipmunks.

���Eli joins them in the bit. "Of course we do, Blaine. We love you."

���"Aw, thanks, you guys. I love all of you, too." Blaine says, wiping at an invisible tear.

���Throughout this exchange, Wes chose to proceed without their attention. Names have been called out, assigning duos to canoes. My name, followed by Gregory Peterson, distracts me from the continued shenanigans of my cabin. At first, the name means nothing to me. But, upon seeing Gregory Peterson, I develop Blaines strong distaste for the big brother of Camp Brotherhood. Hes tall and oafish, and Im pretty sure Ive seen him rough housing with a few other guys at the camp. Its my understanding that hes one of the many seniors that Wes didnt trust enough to lead a cabin. Clearly, this wont be pleasant.

�

���My apprehension only grows when we set sail. At the start of our excursion, he and his buddies challenge each other to a paddle war, which did not end once we were in the canoe. By the way, soldiers of the paddle war are surprisingly terrible at paddling. They are also rude.

���So, picture me in a stupid life vest single handedly rowing us down Lake Michigan, while Gregory Peterson is having a whack at his friends. Its a nice, humid day. The sun is glaring down on us. Sebastian, the lucky bastard, is partnered with Jeff, someone decent, and I see them happily row by. And Trent is amicably rowing along with another respectable looking young lad. Then, I spot Blaine. Hes chatting with his buddy, some enviable freshman, only a canoe away. Meanwhile, Gregory Peterson is really going at it, waving his paddles around like a mad man. I allow myself just a moment, one unguarded moment, to admire the way the sun plays upon Blaines olive skin. When, suddenly, my entire body, namely my face, is overcome with this catastrophic smack. Then its the encompassing coolness of the water. And thank god Wes put us in stupid life vests, because, right now, I cant swim to save my life. Literally.

��Even though all I see is darkness, I can sense everyones eyes on me. I hear Gregory Peterson laughing and swearing over the sound of Sebastian calling my name. I feel arms around my waist, which I assume are attached to Bas. I allow for them to drag me through the water and lift me onto the dock. My skin warms as I lie in the sun. The arms voice is repeating my name, desperately, until I blink back my eyelids. And theres Blaine staring down at me, his arms still around my waist and my head against his chest, while droplets of water rain down from his curly hair.

���"Fuck." For a moment, I catch him when hes off. When theres panic in his eyes and no grin on his face. But, when the moment is over, the smile is back. "How ya fairing, Potter?"

��"What?"

��"You have a, uhm," he makes a little zig zag on his forehead with his finger. "Nevermind, itll make sense later. You feeling up for a walk to the infirmary?" As he helps me up, I notice David is by my side, helping lift me as I stumble to my feet.

���The crowd, still watching from their canoes, cheers for me just because Im standing. When I was little, my dad took me to a lot of football games. I remember whenever a player got hurt, everyone would clap just because they stood up. I thought it was weird, but its even more weird when its me that everyone is applauding. Thankfully, Wes powers up his megaphone to tell everyone to "get the hell back to canoeing", that I was fine, and to be more careful. Its also unfortunately necessary for him to add that "paddles are for rowing, not whacking."

���"Kurt, are you okay?" He asks me, without the use of his megaphone. I try nodding, which only furthers the throbbing in my head.

���"Ive got him, you two can stay here," Blaine is addressing the concerned Wes and David, handing his life vest off to them. "Make sure no one else gets hit. And give Gregory hell for this."

���As I hobble away, Blaine taking on most of my weight, I hear David say, "Oh, I will enjoy doing that."

�

���"Its just a little further up the hill, Potter. You think you can make it?" When we stop, I am woozy and nauseous and I can feel sweat dripping down my face. However, in my attempts to wipe it away, I identify that it is in fact blood. Great.

���"Im bleeding." I state, failing to answer Blaines question.

���"That you are, Potter, that you are." Clearly, Im very far gone, because Im pretty sure Blaine is convinced that he is Dumbledore. He is also taking off his shirt. Jesus.

���Placing the wadded up shirt in my hand, he guides it to my forehead. It aches as he presses down lightly. "Just keep your hand there, okay?" I nod, doing as he says. Then, his arm is around my waist, just as it was before, and my arm is draped across his shoulders and we continue up the hill.

�

���"Well," the nurse smiles at me. "The good news is you dont have a concussion. However, you will have a pretty bad scar."

���"It kinda makes him look like Harry Potter, doesnt it?" Blaine asks from where hes leaning coolly against the counter.

���The nurse giggles, "kinda." She is very young and very taken with Blaine. I can relate. "Its not exactly a lightning strike, but its close." We both nearly melt at the goofy, yet somehow still sexy, grin Blaine gives her. "Uhm, so, anyways." Now, shes all flustered, trying to remain professional. "He should probably take it easy for the rest of the day. And, although hes cleared all the tests, I think someone should still keep an eye on him. Try not to leave him alone."

���"Ill finally get to prove to you how great my company keeping skills are." Blaine comments, directing his grin to me. Nurse Jenny can go shove it.

�

���As soon as we made it back to our cabin, Blaine insisted that I take a nap, to which I didnt protest. And, when I wake up, Im pleased to find hes still here. At first, he doesnt realize Im awake. Hes too occupied with whatever hes creating in his sketch book. Its cute when hes concentrating, his eyebrows furrowing together and just the tip of his tongue peeking out.

���"What are you working on?" I ask, startling him from his focus.

���"Oh, uhm, well..." He rubs at his beard and chuckles. "I thought you might want to see how it all went down this morning. Ya know, from a bystanders perspective. But, now I realize its kinda stupid and insensitive."

���"Lemme see." I request, reaching for the sketch book. Reluctantly, Blaine hands over the pad. Its drawn in comic book style, starting with Gregory Peterson and his friends being asshole paddle soldiers and ending with his paddle swinging into my forehead with an action packed thwack! The cartoonish expression on my face as Im hit makes me snort out a laugh, which gets Blaine laughing, too. "This is very good."

���"Thanks. Id hope so, considering Ive spent two years of college tuition learning to do it." Oh yes, Blaine the junior cartoonist.

���"I love it." I state, handing the book back to him.

���"Here," he scribbles his signature on the bottom, then tears the page out of the book. "Keep it."

���"Thank you." I smile at the piece of art, sitting up to tuck it away in my bag. As I sit back, I notice that Blaine is watching me, carefully, as though I might break. But, really, besides a headache, I feel okay. "How bad is it?" I ask him.

���"Id have to de-mummify you to see." He states, in regards to the bandage nurse Jenny wrapped around my head.

���I shrug, "Im pretty sure its not bleeding anymore."

���Blaine bites his lip, considering this for a moment. "I guess I should put more neosporin on it anyways, so unwrapping it would be productive, right?" He reasons with himself. I nod to edge him along. "Alright, fine. But you tell me if anything feels not good." He rises from the chair that was placed at my bedside. Kneeling before me, he reaches up tentatively, brushing my hair back from my forehead. I cant even begin to fathom the state of my hair. "Okay, here goes. The great reveal." He inches closer, his hazel eyes tinted with worry. He reaches with both hands to the back of my head to undo the clasp. Then, he winds the gauze around until my head is free. "Oh yes. Just like Harry Potter."

���"Is it bad?"

���"Badass? Fuck yeah!" He proclaims, finding the small tube of neosporin in his little first aid kit, which Wes has mandated that cabin leaders must carry from now on. Thanks to me. I cant help but frown at the idea of having a badass scar on my face. Blaine has to reassure me. "Its not bad, dont worry. Hang on, I have something for you." He adds just a dab of the cream on my small wound. Capping the neosporin, he turns his attention to his bag.

���"Oh!" Blaine seems a little thrown off by my outburst. "Really?" Since when was he getting me things and doodling pictures for me?

���"Uh, yeah." I watch him rummaging through his bag. "Well, I got some for the whole cabin," oh, "for capture the flag in a few days. But, I figure you could use yours now." From within his bag, he produces a blue bandana. "You can cover your scar with it and, I dont know, keep it, wear it around. Maybe, itll catch on as your signature thing. Like the karate kid. May I?" I sit up, my feet coming to rest on the cabin floor, and allow Blaine to tie the bandana around my head. Squatting in front of me, he rests his hands on my legs. My upper thighs, to be more specific. "Looks good, Potter." He smiles at me and, for just a brief second, I think I see his eyes dart to my lips. Although, it might just be an injury induced hallucination. Regardless, the moment is interrupted by a light knock that nudges open our cabin door.

���"Hey, Blaine, Wes wanted me to tell you to go get lunch for you and Kurt before the mess hall stops serving it. I can sit with him while you do." It is Sebastian, leaning against the door frame and grinning smugly at me.

���Blaine hops up, "right, because I wouldnt want to miss the lunch, which they totally stop serving to anyone at all, ever, at 1:30." He winks at me, alluding to his mess hall conspiracy.

���"Yeah." Sebastian nods, confused by Blaines behavior.

���"Ill be quick." He promises Bas and I, letting the cabin door swing in his absence.

���When hes gone, Bas gives me a thumbs up. "What?" I ask. My friend grins devilishly, pointing first to me then in the general direction that Blaine had headed in. He then proceeds to make obscene gestures and kissy noises. "Stop, why are you so weird?"

���"Why are you totally getting it on with your cabin leader?" He shouts, letting the excitement get the best of his indoor voice.

���I shush him, with an eye roll. "When one has a head injury, they get it on with no one."

���"Well, then, Hummel," he turns Blaines chair around, straddling it to face me. "You mustve been born with that injury, because you have gotten it on not once."

���"I dont need to get it on, Bas."

���"But you do!" He demands, rocking forward onto the front two legs of the chair. His face is inches from mine, eyes electrified. "We are college students now, Kurt. College brothers. Now, if ever, is the prime time that it gets gotten. Especially, at camp. I know youve seen Wet Hot American Summer; everyone shacks up at camp."

���I stare back at Bas, my eyes completely void of electricity. "All I gathered from that is that you want me to shack up with my brothers."

���"Not your real brothers. God youre impossible."

���"Well, I have a head injury." I deadpan.

���"Yes, and the perkiest of little asses nursing you back to health!"

���"Youre butt isnt that great, Bas." I interject, just to tease him.

���He sighs, but I can see the hint of a smile on his lips. "You know whos ass I mean. Now, take my advice. And take this condom." He retrieves one of the square packages from his pocket, extending it to me.

���"Why do you carry those around?" I ask, not accepting the object.

���"I need a sharpie." He laments, opting to ignore me. He gives a pat down to his own person, checking for a marker, then moves on to digging through my luggage.

���"Please stop. What do you need a sharpie for?" To that, I get no explanation beyond a triumphant ah-ha! I wait for him to finish scribbling over the Trojan logo. Its a name. Blaine.

���"Best if used by." He smirks, proudly presenting me with the condom.

���"Im not taking that." I proclaim, keeping my hands resting by my side.

���"Take the condom." I am unmoved. "God damn." He throws the small pack at me. I gasp and toss it back. "Im trying to help you." He shouts, throwing it back to me.

���"I dont want your help." Back to Sebastian.

���"Protect your penis, please." Back to me.

���"Theres nothing to protect it from." He catches it.

���"Kurt, its time you let go of your virginity." It lands in my lap.

���"But, I love it." I get him in the chest this time.

���At sometime point, it becomes a joke to us. Like a game of catch, with a refreshing dash of safe sex propaganda. That is until the door swings open, startling Sebastian into nearly dropping it. As if it was a hot potato, he tosses it to me and I shove it under my pillow.

���"Kurt, we got lucky." Blaine calls. Sebastian mouths get lucky to me and waggles his eyebrows. "Its chicken nugget day!" Im relieved to note that Blaine is oblivious to the previous happenings. Yet, my face is still beet red. "And theyre shaped like dinosaurs, isnt that fun?" His childish naivety is refreshing.

�

���After dinner, which Id felt well enough to attend, I follow Sebastian and Trent down to the clearing in the woods. Its the same area where the campfire was held, except a white tarp has been hung before a projector. Everyone is coming down in groups for the mandatory showing of Dazed and Confused, laying out sheets and towels to sit on. Trent, Bas and I follow suit, settling in an area in the back with considerably less dirt.

���All of the cabin leaders are making their rounds as they take attendance to ensure no one skipped the movie to hook up in the cabins or something. Apparently, Sebastian was considering doing just that. Blaine gets around to us, marking off Trent, then me.

���"You feeling better, Potter?" He asks. I nod, even though it brings my headache back a little bit. "Good, good. Im glad." Im vaguely aware of Sebastian smirking at us, holding in his commentary. Yet, I dont care all that much, because Blaine is gazing at me with those eyes, which is all that matters. "Well, Ill be up at the front with the other cabin leaders and my handy dandy first aid fanny pack." This time Bas doesnt hold back his snort, when Blaine readjusts the red pouch that rests nearly crotch level. Its mostly dark, save a few flashlights and the glowing projector, so I cant tell if Blaines cheeks are as red as mine feel. Im guessing theyre not, but I like to be optimistic. "So, if you need anything then come find me."

���"Will do." I smile up to him.

���"Oh, and I like your bandana." Then he winks, before he wanders off to finish his role sheet.

��Sebastian turns to me, laughing. "You might as well just castrate yourself and glue your dick to his prostate."

���"What?" I bite, my voice high and nervous from my friends insinuation.

���"Elegantly put, Sebastian." Trent jokes.

���"Well, Im right. Is he not crazy obvious?"

���I snort, disregarding him. "Please. Thats ridiculous."

���"Sorry, Kurt, but Im with Sebastian on this." Trent adds, turning against me. "You definitely arent subtle. Although, he really isnt either."

���Bas is nodding along, handling the conversation like a political debate. "Excellent point, Trent. I do recall the person in question quite literally throwing himself into the water to rescue you."

���"Hes my cabin leader. He was just making sure I didnt die on his watch."

���"Mhm, sure." Trent humors me, before we all go quiet for the start of the movie.