“No, I’ll buy this time,” Kurt says, standing before Blaine ever gets the chance.

Kurt orders his nonfat mocha and a medium drip for Blaine, who takes the cup graciously after another successful tutoring session that next Sunday evening.

“So,” Kurt says as he takes a seat.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Blaine blurts out, immediately turning as red as his dorky sweater.

“…And just how long have you been waiting to ask that?”

Blushing even harder, Blaine dips his head shyly, wringing his hand in his lap. “Um, since – since you confirmed you were gay, I guess.”

“Of all the possible conversational topics we could have broached, such as ‘what’s your favorite color’ or ‘what do you want to do after high school’, you choose this?”

“I just – I’ve never had someone to talk with about it. Being gay, I mean. Or anything like that.”

“Well, neither have I,” Kurt admits, though he avoids Blaine’s eyes as he says it. “And no, I haven’t. So I’m afraid I won’t be very much help on the gay mentor side of things.”

“So you were the only gay kid at McKinley before I came along?”

“As far as I know,” Kurt nods.

It’s strange for Kurt to sit here and be able to speak so frankly on the subject. He honestly never thought there would be another gay kid at his school. He is thankful, however, that they have something in common now, especially considering how many times they’re going to have to sit here and interact like they’re friends or something.

Because Kurt is not Blaine Anderson’s friend. He isn’t. He’s simply…a charity project. He entered into a deal with someone who needs a bit of kindness, that’s all. He’d throw himself off a cliff before he ever became friends with someone who wears sweater vests like they’re going out of style.

“Why did you transfer to McKinley?” Kurt asks.

Blaine tugs the sleeves of his cardigan down over his hands. “Um – well, like I said before, I didn’t receive the warmest of welcomes when I came out at my old school. It got really bad but, like, not just at school. Just whenever I went out of my house. So my parents moved into another district. They said if I can’t make things work out here, they’ll send me off to some boarding school in Westerville.”

“…What do you mean by ‘make things work’?” Kurt wonders because, to his knowledge, the bullied aren’t the ones who need to work on anything. Not concerning their parents, anyway. Parents are supposed to do what is best for their kids, not best for their own images.

“My parents were really well known in the community and stuff,” Blaine says softly. “They weren’t really all that thrilled when the whole town suddenly knew about our personal business.”

Kurt doesn’t see how it’s anyone’s business but Blaine’s, but he doesn’t comment on the matter when he sees how uncomfortable Blaine is becoming. He figures a change of subject is needed.

“Why do you carry around all of your textbooks?” Kurt asks.

“What?”

“You can’t have homework every night in every class,” Kurt tries to reason.

“I don’t.”

“So why carry all the books? Why wear the ugly glasses? Why gel your hair into a helmet? Why wear the khakis and the sweater vests and the polos and play into the nerdy, geeky stereotype?”

Immediately, Kurt knows that he’s gone too far but he doesn’t automatically understand why. He just knows he’s gone too far because Blaine has closed himself off completely. Blaine stands abruptly, shouldering his backpack and wiping under his glasses at his damp eyes.

“I should – I should get home,” Blaine mutters. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Still stunned at the dramatic reaction, Kurt remains immobile and watches Blaine walk out of the coffee shop without so much as a glance back.

What on earth was that about?

A few hours later, once Kurt is home and getting ready for bed, he sends Blaine a text.

Are we…still on for tomorrow?

They had made plans to meet on both Sunday and Monday night, as Kurt has to help his dad in the shop on Tuesday and he has shopping plans on Wednesday. He stares at the screen of his phone for an unreasonably long period of time until he realizes that Blaine might already be asleep. Sighing to himself, Kurt shuts off the light and crawls into the cozy warmth of his bed.

Just as he’s on the verge of sleep, his phone buzzes.

Yes.

“Did I say something wrong?” Kurt asks, not one to beat about the bush. “Last night when you left?”

“No,” Blaine whispers, both hands around his coffee cup with his elbows on the table.

“Well you sure left quickly,” Kurt says. “Were you upset when I suggested that you were a nerd?”

“You’re really not one for tact, are you?”

“Well that’s what you are, Blaine,” Kurt says plainly.

“For someone who is openly gay and who obviously experienced some form of negative feedback on the issue when he came out, you’re sure stuck on your labels and stereotypes.”

“They’re not my rules,” Kurt defends. “I don’t make them.”

“If they’re not your rules, then who says you have to follow them?”

“Because this is high school, remember? And we have to learn to survive somehow.”

“So you chose to survive by becoming a cheerleader and being rude to everyone who doesn’t wear the same uniform as you,” Blaine bites. “You chose to fit in with the top of the heap and treat everyone else like they’re dirt. Yeah, you’re well on your way to becoming a decent person. At least, as one of the nerds, I’m not awful to people.”

“You’re giving everyone else a reason to pick on you,” Kurt tries to explain gently.

“Yeah, just like being gay gives everyone else the right to tell us that we’re sick or wrong or immoral.”

Kurt’s gut twists and heaves, like he’s just had a knife stabbed into his stomach.

“That’s not even on the same level,” he says softly.

“Maybe you don’t see it from your gilded castle in the sky, but as a peasant I can see things here on the ground a bit more clearly,” Blaine says.

“But you – it looks like you’re actively trying to be a loser,” Kurt says.

Blaine slips off his glasses to rub away the tears forming on his eyes. Kurt feels mildly guilty that he’s made the same kid cry twice in as many days.

“I’m not trying to be anything,” Blaine sniffles, perching his thick glasses back on his nose. “I wear glasses because I have bad vision. I tried contacts but I have really sensitive eyes and they wouldn’t stop burning every time I tried to wear them for long periods of time. I gel my hair down because my hair is an absolute mess and it looks hideous without it. I wear khakis because, to me, they’re more comfortable than jeans. I wear sweater vests because I get cold when I just wear t-shirts and I wear polos because I think they look nice,” Blaine explains, tears in his eyes and a sob choking in his throat. “And I carry all of my books home because I like to get all of my homework done and read further in the book than assigned so that I’ll understand everything the teacher’s talking about whenever it comes up in class. I do that because my parents expect me to have straight A’s because at least if I have a good GPA and get into a good college and get a good job, then they can have something to be proud of me for because they sure as hell aren’t proud of the fact that I’m gay. And when I’m home studying for every single class, I don’t have to dwell on the fact that I don’t have any friends.”

Kurt’s breath leaves his lungs in a rush. His eyes are dry from staring without blinking.

“Blaine-” he croaks out.

“You know,” Blaine says with a laugh that carries no amusement at all, “my parents got unlimited text messaging on my phone. But I haven’t texted anyone besides you or my mom to let her know that I’m on my way home from school or the library or our study sessions since I came out. I don’t have anyone to talk to. I don’t have anyone to go shopping with. I don’t have anyone to take to a movie and split a bucket of popcorn with. I don’t have anyone. So thank you for being the first person I could buy coffee for since before I started getting bashed. Thank you for putting up with my nerdy ways and thank you for being too embarrassed to even be seen with me in the county where we live.”

“I didn’t-”

“You are no longer obligated to have coffee with me,” Blaine says as he stands and shrugs on his backpack that he hadn’t even opened yet. “I’ll still tutor you if you need me to, but you don’t have to stay and talk to me because obviously you’re too good for me and I’m lucky to even breathe the same air as you.”

Blaine turns on his heel and strides away, but after all of that, Kurt can’t simply let him walk away the way he had last night. He follows Blaine out to his car, shouting his name at his back.

“Blaine! Wait!”

Purposefully ignoring him, Blaine tosses his backpack in the back seat and yanks open the driver’s side door.

“Please, please wait,” Kurt begs. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Of course you’re sorry,” Blaine all but whimpers, face splotchy and glasses wet from the tear drops on his eyelashes. “Of course you’re sorry, now that you know what my life is like. But the fact is that I shouldn’t have had to tell you those things in order for you to suddenly become one of the decent people you’re so adamant about.”

“I didn’t know-”

“No, you didn’t. I thought you were different,” Blaine says tiredly, shoulders slumped in defeat. “After the way you used to wait around to watch my books fall, I thought maybe you were doing it in order to – to – I don’t know, protect me or something, like maybe you were making sure no one did anything worse. But now I see why you did it.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did it because you got off on watching someone like me getting pushed around because when you saw it, you could at least be glad that it wasn’t you. Because you’ve paid your dues and now it’s okay to let someone else bear the brunt of ignorance and cruelty. Because, now that you’ve walked a mile in those shoes, it’s time to pass them on to someone else and watch and laugh instead of throwing them out and trying to change things and do something good. Well screw you. Screw. You.”

Blaine shoves Kurt back with as much force as he can muster, which isn’t much at all considering how tiny is, before climbing into his car, slamming the door, and speeding out of the parking lot.

Kurt’s vision swirls. He stumbles back gracelessly to his car, crawls into the driver’s seat, and watches the world sway while hot, thick tears bubble in his eyes and guilt and shame twist around his heart.

What had he done?