�

���Since we opted to sleep in after Blaines mouth trumpet, Trent and I arrive late to potentially the worst breakfast to be late to. As we move to sit with Sebastian, he stops us. Apologizing to the guy seated across from him, he clues us in. "You have to sit with someone you dont know today and spend the day with them."

���I frown, while Trent sports a long pout. "But I dont want to know the people that I dont know." He states. "This is stupid."

���"Wrong. This is bonding." Wes states, sneaking up behind us. Trent shrinks inwardly. "Trent, do you know Zach?" The boy shakes his head, still nervous from being caught mocking the exercise. "Great. Why dont you go get to know him." He pats Trent on the back to move him along. "And Kurt...well, lets see here." Our two pairs of eyes scan the mess hall. Everyone is already sitting with someone. Great, Im the odd man out. "Well, Kurt, you can come sit with me." And thus began the most educational and uninteresting breakfast Ive ever had at a summer camp.

���Im relieved when Wes excuses himself to help set up for the first activity. He apologizes that hell be too busy running activities to spend the day with me, then invites me to join him in the classes. I politely decline. Better alone than in animetion learning how to make my anime move. However, theres no escaping the ropes course this morning, which he reminds me is mandatory. "And it starts in..." He checks his watch. Then he powers up his megaphone and steps onto a chair. David is by his side in an instant. "Now," he grins apologetically at me when I screech, startled by just how loud that thing is up close. "Friends, in a minute but not yet, youll have to say goodbye for now to your new buddy and go find your cabin leader. Yes, friends, it is time for the much anticipated ropes course." Anticipated by only the insane, Im sure. And, as if on cue, Blaine lets out an enthusiastic "yahoo!" "I ask that, when Im done speaking, you all group up and head out. Have fun and be safe," he and David turn in sync to glare at Gregory Peterson. "Okay, go!" Then he dismounts from the chair with all of the grace of an Olympic gymnast.

���Its easy to spot Blaine, since hes bouncing enthusiastically in the middle of our group. However, I notice Trent first. He lingers near the team blue huddle with a mournful expression. "I will die before this is over."

���"Youre telling me." I huff.

�

���The ropes course takes us in the opposite direction of the cabins, towards an incredibly daunting wooden contraption. It towers fifty feet above us, swinging platforms and all.

���"Okay, team blue, harness up!" Blaine instructs. Trent whimpers softly. While the proper utilities are distributed to the team and secured to their bodies, I find myself approaching Blaine. "What can I do for you, Potter?"

���"Uhm, Im really sorry, but I dont think I can do this." I feel Trent glaring daggers at me. Id filled him in on my genius plan as wed trekked out here. Milk the injury. "Its my head. Im still a little woozy."

���A pang of concern flashes across Blaines face like a bolt of lightning. The usual dancing glint in his eyes dissipates as he faces me seriously. "Of course, Kurt. Im stupid and didnt even consider checking in with you. Do you want me to sit with you?"

���I deny his offer profusely. Hes being so kind about this that I feel rather guilty now having deceived him. "The ropes course seems to be a big yahoo for you. You should enjoy it."

���He grins and my mind seems to fictionalize a blush slipping into his cheeks. "Are you sure? I dont mind. Ive done this before."

���"You can do it again. Ill be fine."

���"Just because youre trying so hard to get rid of me," I begin to refute his accusation. But, he keeps talking. "Ill stay right here with you." He winks at me after that. Its the same casual wink hes been throwing around for the past few days; the one that kills me.

���So, we sit there. Everyone else gathers at the base of the contraption and listens to directions from the professionals in charge of the course. Theres two: an overly peppy lady and an older man who talks with a slow, southern drawl. Now and again Blaine shouts his witty remarks from under the tree where we sit. Mostly, it all occurs without us. People go up, swing around, then come down.

���Squinting against the sun, I watch the boys of my cabin navigate through obstacles fifty feet in the air. Jeff is up next. Blaine flashes him a thumbs up, while the peppy lady latches his harness to the pulley rope so he doesnt fall to his death.

���"Poor guy." Blaine laments. "Im proud of him, though."

���"Why?" I ask. Id been tracking Trents progress across the course carefully. He moves with measured steps, unlike some of the boys who race through.

���"Because, hes afraid of heights. Like deathly." Blaine states simply. I tear my gaze from my friend to look at Blaine. Hes propped against the tree, legs crisscrossed neatly, as his hands draw absently in the dirt. From behind his shades, his eyes are trained carefully on Jeff, lip caught between his teeth and wrinkle of focus in his brow. Just as Id watched Trent, Blaine seems to be with Jeff in his mind as he slowly, carefully, climbs the rungs up to the first platform. "Hes never done it before. But, I think he promised Nick he would. Said hed ban blow jobs or something." I choke a little on the air. "Im joking." This time he faces me. When he smiles brightly at me I cant see his eyes, only the crinkles at the corners of his sunglasses. I give him a light laugh, which seems to appease him enough to return to Jeff.

���My gaze shifts to Jeff as well. Its clear, from the way the pulley rattles, that he is quivering. The sound only makes him quiver more. Yet, he carries on. Its hard to imagine myself up there conquering my fear like him. Ive pretty much played it safe my whole life. In some capacity, I was always here, under this tree, in the background. Of course, there was never Sir Blaine Dreamsicle Anderson sitting next to me. But, thats a minor detail; Im still giving up on myself as always.

���"I wanna do it." I hear my own voice before the idea has even checked into my brain.

���"Ban blow jobs?" Blaine asks offhandedly. Hes still attached to Jeff, yet I see a smile tug at his lips from his own joke. "Because, Im personally against that."

���"No, I want to go up on the ropes course."

���Lowering his sunglasses, he turns to me with a crease across his forehead. He peers over the rim of his raybans. "I dont think thats a good idea."

���"I feel fine." I defend. My miraculous recovery is due in part to the fact that I made it all up.

���Blaine shakes his head. "Im not taking any chances with you, Potter. Youre gonna be the boy who lives, not the boy who passes out at the top of the ropes course and dies."

���His hand finds its protective way to my hand. I might be dead now. "O-okay." He squeezes it lightly then lets go to applaud Jeff, who is being lowered back to the ground.

�

���As it was planned, the rest of the day is to be spent with our new buddy from breakfast. For me, that means a day with Wes. Or, more realistically, lunch with Wes and then him checking in with me every hour or so in between keeping the program running. I understand, of course. He is in charge of the lives, whereabouts and entertainment of a camp full of college boys. But, its really not fun being alone.

���For awhile, I tried to tag along with Sebastian and his pal. Unfortunately, it went something like this:

Sebastian: this is Kurt. Kurt, this is whatever that dicks name was.

That Dick: hey, arent you the guy that got hit in the face?

That Dicks Friend: dude, that was so funny!

Sebastian: it wasnt that funny...

���And I dont even know what they said after I left. Most of my conversations were along those lines today. Im paddle-face-freak, a nickname Ill probably don for the next four years. Thanks to Gregory Peterson, Im now widely known and never taken seriously. Everyone either acts like Im suffering from the bubonic plague or like I have a "kick me" sign stuck to my back. Yet again, Ive discovered a distinct lack of brotherhood sent my way.

�

���When Blaine returns from the evening soccer game, Im there sketching in my bunk. The shirt hed been wearing in the morning is strewn through a belt loop of his shorts. The sweat of his tight skin catches the afternoon sun. He takes off his sunglasses to survey the bunks. A surprised gasp escapes him when he notices me noticing him.

���"Kurt," he pouts, sitting next to me on my bunk. Without a shirt on. "Why are you in here?"

���I have to remind myself to not lean in or reach out to touch him. "Im sketching."

���Bushy triangles of eyebrows raise in skepticism. "Alone?" He squints a suspecting eye at me. While theres still traces of his smile, his face is scrunched up with knowing look. Like he can see through all of my layers and hes disappointed in what hes found. "At Camp Brotherhood?" My only defense is a shrug. "Well, isnt Wes your pal for the day?" How does Blaine know my pal? Oh god, he knows my pal. "Where is that rascal?"

���"I believe he is deconstructing the soccer goal with David. He said hed meet me in the mess hall for dinner."

���"Huh, thats lame." Blaine announces. From my peripheral vision, I can see him watching me. When I turn to face him, he fixes his gaze straight forward. "How bout we strike a deal? My pal is David, because were dirty cheaters. So, Ill get less smelly," our eyes both drift to his sweaty chest. "Then, we can walk to the mess hall together and make it a double date." Before he hops off the bed to go shower, I get one last wink from him. It takes me awhile to remember double date is just a figure of speech to him. Yes, itll be Blaine and I, but Wes and David will also be in attendance.

�

���Wes, David and Blaine laugh again at yet another joke. It snaps me back from the daze Id been lulled into. It happens every time Blaine tells a story. Wes keeps his stories rather concise. David has a very mellowed voice. It, too, often seems to lull me into a passive state. But not in the same way Blaines does. Despite his incendiary wit and excited gestures, I keep getting distracted by his eyes or the veins in his arms or his hands, running themselves through his hair. This time its his Adams apple, and the way it bobs lightly as he talks.

���Catching myself, I force a laugh out with them. Then I turn back to my salad, which tastes like chemicals, as Wes relays yet another tale of the trios past shenanigans.

�

���On our walk back to the cabin from the mess hall, Trent speaks to me, with great admiration, for his new friend.

���"He asked me to be on his basketball team tomorrow." Trent gushes. "Like, Ive never been picked first for anything sporty ever."

���Its forced and delayed, but I manage to draw my lips into a smile for him. "Ill try to be there to root for you."

���"Oh god, no. I didnt take him up on the offer."

���"Why not?" Lord knows I, too, would decline such an offer. But, Trent is different. Hes actually enjoying his time here.

���"Because I hate basketball. Besides, if I play, theyll lose for sure."

���"Im sure thats not—"

���"Hey Kurt." I get interrupted by Blaine falling into step with me. On my other side, Trent rolls his eyes. He clears his throat and leans around me. "Oh, Trent. I didnt see you there. Hello." Blaines attention returns to me, earning a scoff from Trent only loud enough that I hear it. "Hey, uhm, Im sorry about dinner."

���"What about it?" I ask.

���"You looked like you felt a little left out." I try to shrug it off, pretending I wasnt bothered by it in the least. But, Blaine has that same look; the one where he can see right through me. "We just know each other so well and we dont know you that well and it was a stupid idea for you to sit through that. Im sure you had no fun at all."

���"Dont worry about it, Blaine. It wasnt all bad, because I got to learn all of your secrets." I wink casually at him. Color rushes to my cheeks. I feel my lips drawing into a childish grin. I just served his flirting right back to him. Ive never done that before; its exhilarating.

���Blaine chuckles as if hes just received a challenge. "Use those secrets wisely, Potter. For, with great power, comes great responsibility."

���"Okay, Uncle Ben."

���I earn one more chuckle from Blaine. This one sounds almost like Ive surprised him. Its as though he hadnt expected me to catch on to his caliber of banter. After that, he hurries ahead of us. Hes like a small bird flitting around between everyone, never really stopping to engage for long. Every conversation he has seems to have a time limit. His entire life is a relay race of banter. I watch after him, wondering whats like to be like Wes and David or Jeff and Nick. The people who Blaine sits with and talks to and spends his time with, without that impermeable limit. I wonder what it takes.

���Trent clears his throat. "You cant will him to stay with your mind."

���"I dont know what youre talking about."

���"Mhmm."

�

���"Okay, boys. Tonight we taking on the challenge that is the human knot!" Blaine announces. The entirety of Team Blue is gathered in a tight circle between the bunks of the cabin. I am wedged between Trent and Jeff, who speaks to contradict Blaine.

���"I think weve all been doing the human knot since we were, like, six, Blaine. Its hardly a challenge."

���Our exuberant leader is unphased by the slander. He forges on. "I want you all to raise a hand. Just one." We all lift an arm. Blaines shoots up with fiery enthusiasm. All other hands are slowly raised to half mast. "Now, with someone who isnt next to you, take that hand and grab someone elses hand." Mine reaches out, fingertips brushing over a cold palm. Following the arm back, I reach the face of Eli. I want to yank my hand away, retract it from the center. But, as his hand clamps down on mine, his face shows absolute zero interest in the current situation as a whole.

���"Excellent." Blaine compliments. "Now, with a different person, do the same with your other hand." Hoping for better luck this time, I allow my hand to wander into the group. I let reach across the circle, waving blindly. Before I get the chance to find a hand, my hand gets found. Its enveloped by a firm warmth, starkly different from Elis hand cool grasp. Hazel eyes find mine across the circle. He winks at me, letting his thumb run along mine. I couldve never guessed thatd he would continue that action for the entire game.

�

���It was decided after the game that I would take a shower. When Id gone in, the cabin was in full swing. Now, stepping out of the bathroom in my pajamas, its deserted. Oh, well alright then. Even Trent is out. I was able to count on Trent hanging back with me. Actually, thats not true. Im usually alone. Everyday, I sit in my cabin, alone, sketching. My portfolio is growing. So, at least there is one positive. I could find Sebastian. Although, he probably went out, too.

���With a humph, I fall back onto my small bunk. I can feel the tears pricking my eyes. Yet, its dumb to cry. I signed up for this. Or Sebastian made me sign up for it when we applied for this university. I couldve gone to Northwestern or NYU. But, I didnt. Im here with him, for him and hes still not here for me. Still, I cant be angry at him, because it was just as much my choice as it was his and I hate that.

�

���I suppose I mustve dozed off at some point, because Im woken by my cabin mates all sneaking in together. From the overwhelming amount of giggles and stumbling, theyre drunk. All of them. Eli is drunk. Owen is drunk. Jeff is very drunk. Trent is at least tipsy. Blaine has even been drinking.

���"Oh no, we forgot Kurt." I hear Blaine pout, while I feign sleep. The heat radiates from his body in waves, making me aware of just how close he is. Then, hes gone, trying to climb up the ladder to his bunk. Thankfully, he gave up, before he came crashing down on me. Maybe if he fell on top of me Id be harder to just forget.

���More drunken stumbling occurs and Blaine never comes back. Then, the cabin falls back to silence. Its both better and worse this way. Im not burdened by the reminder of what a grand ol time everyone is having. I am, however, greatly burdened by my thoughts. They swarm me, biting like vultures, drawing tears from my eyes.

���I sit up with a start, as if Ive awoken from a nightmare, bumping my head on the bottom of Blaines bunk. I pad into the bathroom, cursing myself for doing so barefoot, and conceal myself behind a shower curtain. It starts with only tears. They soon grow to sniffles and whimpers that I can no longer suppress. As I get so wrapped in these thoughts that Im not good enough, nor will I ever be, I forget where I am. I let myself cry, like ugly cry. Because, Im here, without my dad or any friends, not even my phone. Im stranded here. And Sebastian doesnt care, Trent barely knows me, Eli seems to hate me, everyone thinks Im a joke and then Blaine. Sweet, unreadable Blaine. I try to fathom up some flaw; anything to derail the perfection of my cabin leader to add to the hurricane of suck that is Camp Brotherhood. When I hear a sink turn on. The sound of the running water chills my blood. Im frozen, as quiet as a mouse, hiding against the bathroom tile.

���Im holding it together for as long as I can muster. Yet, the tears keep streaming down my face like bullets. Sad, watery bullets. And what am I doing anyways? Hiding in a shower in the middle of the night, crying? Only little kids cry at summer camp. Im ridiculous, yet this is the only way to get out what Im feeling. More tears come, streaming quickly, with the sound of the faucet. The situation in itself is enough to further degrade me. And it takes one sniffle, one little whimper, and the sink cuts off.

���My heartbeat quickens as flip flops smack against the grimy floor. I can see the silhouette approaching me. A million people flash through my head, none of which I want to find me like this. The outline leans against the wall, reaching for the curtain, then thinking better of it. "Hey, are you okay?" I hear Blaine ask. Of course its him. I mean, hes only at the top if my list of people I didnt want it to be. I clear my throat and wipe at my cheeks. I try to sum up the cool and collected demeanor, the one Ive never possessed, to tell Im fine. Yet, it seems all I can safely manage is an unconvincing hum. "Kurt?" The silhouette of Blaine reaches out to draw back the curtain.

���I probably look pathetic. My eyes are swollen and puffy from crying. My cheeks are flushed; my whole face is probably flushed. My hair is matted down from sleep. And Im cowering in the corner of a shower in my pajamas. I expect him to tell me something distant and generic, like everything is okay or how are you feeling. But, leave it to Blaine to inform me that "shower shoes are vital in the defense against foot fungus." I look down at my bare feet, curling my toes inward at the thought. He extends his hand to me, drawing me out of the shower. "Why dont you rinse your face." I do as he advises.

���The water is cool against my skin, which had become tight and scratchy from the warm saltiness of my tears. When I blink my eyes open, rubbing the water out of them, Blaine is by my side with a towel. He waits for me to dry my face. "I need some air." He says. "What about you?" I nod. Getting out of the cabin is probably best. The air tonight feels stale, the walls closer together. "Okay. Get your shoes on."

���Instead of taking the time to pull on my shoes, I carried them outside. They sit between us, Blaine and I. He keeps his gaze trained ahead, so I follow suit. I wait for him to say something. This whole situation is alien to me, being here alone with him. Just the two of us in the dark. His silence makes it eerie.

���Blaine turns to me. I feel his eyes roving my body. All of me is on display for him— my clenched hands, my wiggling bare feet, my bloodshot eyes. "You dont have to be so composed." He informs me. Reflecting on myself, I have to admit hes right. Im rigid. Im quiet. My legs are even crossed. Who was kidding with that? He just found me sobbing in a shower. Only slightly do I relax my posture. "You can talk to me. Or pretend Im not here. Whatever you need."

���I choose the latter, resolving into tears again. Yet, its hard to pretend Blaine isnt here when I feel his arm around my shoulders. Im being coaxed towards his body. Its strong when I lean against it, resting my head in the nook of his neck. His arms draw around me into a hug, rubbing soothing circles on my back and tracing little patterns against my arm. I can feel my tears mixing with his warm skin, but he doesnt seem to mind. He just rocks me, because he senses that its what I need.

���"I think I know whatll help." Aside from your sweet and loving embrace? "You feeling up to a walk?" I nod against his skin. "Yeah?" Lifting my head, I nod again.

���Blaine helps me get my shoes on, then we trod across the Camp Brotherhood cabin circle to the red cabin.

���"Wes?" Blaine whispers through their screen door. He repeats the call a few more times, increasing in volume, until Wes stood before it. Hes pajama clad with a cross expression.

���"Blaine. Go to bed."

���"So sorry to wake you, Wes. But, could I trouble you for my cell phone?"

���"No." The camp leader states. From his grave tone, its clear he means business. I wouldve left it at that. But, thats not Blaines style.

���"What about Kurts phone?" That earns him the same answer. "Fine. But, can I at least get some quarters and a flashlight? Ya know, since youre up?"

���"The answer is no, Blaine."

���"Wes, please. Remember, those many three summers ago, when you took me with a flashlight and some quarters and made a world of difference? Well, Im trying to make a world of difference now and I need quarters to do it." When Blaine ends his pleas, Wes walks away. Despite Blaines confident thumbs up, Im certain its a failure. But, to prove me wrong, Wes returns. He pulls open the screen door and hands off a flashlight and a bag of quarters to Blaine.

���"Dont get eaten by anything." He advises.

�

���With Blaine, I walk. He carries the flashlight in one hand, holding onto me with the other. I grip his hand tightly. I follow his foot step for step, sometimes close enough to step on his heel or trip over onto his broad back. Walks in the dark are not exactly walks in the park for me. Still, I let him lead me up to the mess hall and beyond to that stupid dusty parking lot. Theres minivans galore, two small bathrooms, a map and a payphone.

���Blaine presented me with the quarters. "Call whomever youd like." He instructs. I watch him wander a polite distance away, keeping the flashlight roaming the area. Then, I slip the quarter into the slot and dial that familiar number.

���It rings twice before its picked up.

���"Do you have any idea what time it is?" The voice demands.

���"Dad?"

���"Kurt? Its late, is everything okay?" The tone of his voice is softer now, yet still pleading.

���"Everything is fine, dad. I just miss you." I tell him through my tears. I cant even tell if Im lying. It sure doesnt feel fine. But, from the way Blaine is waiting by a tree, drawing circles with his flashlight, I feel like it will be.

�

���"I take it youre close with your dad." Blaine says, leading me back to camp. Of course we are. Its obvious to anyone who just saw me sobbing my face off on the phone with him. With him, I unloaded everything on my mind, almost. I couldnt tell him about Blaine for an obvious reason. In response he told me to hang in there, that itll get better. "Friendly word of advice: you gotta put yourself out there. Sign up for some activities, talk to new people." I scoff, but Blaine is quick to reassure that "its easier than it seems." �

���"Says the guy everyone loves." I retort.

���"Any social titles I hold, I earned fair and square." He stops and faces me, even though all features are indistinguishable in the dark. "When I was a freshman, I was much like you."

���"Oh, please." The eye roll I throw him might be a bit exaggerated, but its not like he can see it. "Even Wes has a soft spot for you."

���"That he does. He was the first one to, actually." Turning back, Blaine continues down the trail. He tells a story as we go. "My freshman year, Id just come off of being the golden boy in high school. But, it was only because my older brother was the golden boy. So, being the next Anderson, I inherited the title."

���"I thought you said you earned all of your titles." I cant be blamed for being skeptical.

���"All of my current titles, yes. Anyways, Id just come off of being the golden boy, so I was a little cocky to be honest. Which, full disclosure, is something I now find so unattractive within myself. Its, like, my least favorite quality. But, its true; I was and no one liked it or me. So, one night Wes took his laundry quarters and Davids flashlight, just like I did for you. I called my brother and he explained the difference between arrogance and confidence. And thus, my title was earned."

���"Is that true?" I make out as he helps me down the rocky slope, treacherous in the dark.

���"No. Im too hot to not be popular." He states. Wow, Ive never wanted to punch something so pretty more than now. "God, see, thats the cockiness. I warned you. And yes, its completely true." I utter a small oh drawing a chuckle from Blaine. "Just, try, Kurt. I mean, youre great, perfect, dont change a thing about you. Just, adjust your approach." He leans close to decipher my face in the dark. "Promise?"

���The distance adds to the intimacy when I say, in return, "I promise."