“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”

-Mother Theresa

“So how did you become an Atheist?” Blaine asks when they sit down for lunch at a nearby restaurant after the service.

Kurt looks up over his glass of water. “What…do you mean?”

“Sorry. I’m just – I’m curious. Like I said, I’ve never met one before so I don’t really, um, understand how you came to lose faith in God.”

“Well,” Kurt begins slowly, “I’m not sure if I ever had any faith in God to begin with.”

“But how?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt says with a shrug. “My mom and dad never really raised me to be religious one way or another. I went to Sunday school a few times but that just didn’t work out. I kept asking questions that they couldn’t answer and I guess they didn’t take very kindly to that. Then when – when my mom died, my dad stopped going to church too and that was that.”

“Your mom died?” Blaine gasps. “Oh gosh, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

To be honest, Kurt hates it when people say ‘I’m sorry’ after hearing about his mother’s death. He never knew how to respond to the phrase just after she died and he still doesn’t know exactly what to say even though she’s been dead for half his life.

“It’s fine,” Kurt says, brushing the subject under the rug. “Anyway, religion was just never an issue in our house.”

“But, I mean, how did you learn what was right and what was wrong? How did you learn about like, how bad it was to kill people or lie or steal and stuff? We always learn through the Bible and through God’s teachings and his commandments.”

“From my dad, I guess. It’s not like I was raised in a zoo,” Kurt explains pointedly. “I had rules and boundaries just like any other kid. And there are things you learn about as you get older, about morality and things like that. You just…you know, you learn through life and experience. You read books and you watch movies and you just – you learn.”

“I’m not sure if learning about not killing someone through experience is the best tactic,” Blaine says.

“Things like that, though, you learn when you’re young. You get a fish or a cat or something and you’re taught to take care of it and feed it and not let it die. So you know that killing something or someone is bad. And you learn not to steal when your mom slaps your hand away from the cookie jar. There are other ways to learn about stuff like that besides through the Bible or God.”

“I guess,” Blaine says, deep in thought. “It’s just weird to me. I mean, God is all I know. Faith in God is all I know. It’s hard to think that you don’t believe in something greater.”

“I can see how difficult it might be to wrap your head around,” Kurt says. “I mean, I don’t really understand why you believe in an invisible guy that sits on a cloud in the sky.”

“God’s not really like that,” Blaine says, biting his lip to keep from smiling.

“Isn’t it strange, though? That, to you, there’s one man, one being who supposedly watches over all of us? Seems like God’s a busy guy. I don’t know if I believe that God has enough time in a day to worry about everyone on the planet, not to mention the rest of the solar system and other galaxies. He did create all those stars in the sky, if your Bible is to be believed.”

“I don’t think time works for God the same way it does on this plane,” Blaine says to him. “And I think you’re too caught up in the intricacies.”

“So you’re saying I’m just supposed to go on blind faith?”

“It’s not always blind,” Blaine counters. “Miracles happen every day, all around us. We’re just so busy with our silly little lives that we don’t always take notice of them.”

“Oh?” Kurt asks, leaning over, chin propped up on his hand. “Tell me, Blaine Anderson. What’s been a miracle this past week, hm? Because I’m betting the fact that we haven’t died from our school’s cafeteria food is a miracle in itself. I’m sure that Finn not massacring the entire club with his dancing is a miracle. And I know for a fact that me surviving that service was a miracle.”

“God gave me you,” Blaine says softly. “He gave me a good friend. He gave me someone different, someone to learn from, and maybe someone who needs a bit of faith in his life.”

Kurt’s blood pounds in his ears at Blaine’s words. The boy across from him closes in on himself, arms wrapped around his middle as he sits there, eyes focused on the plate of food in front of him. He goes sort of pale but a faint, rosy tinge rises to his cheeks and tears begin to gather in the corner of his eyes. Kurt stares, completely dumbfounded at how emotional Blaine is suddenly becoming.

“I prayed for a friend like you, Kurt. I prayed for years. I prayed for someone smart and funny and kind that I could spend time with. But I didn’t pray for someone who would mock my beliefs.”

“I – I’m sorry,” Kurt says, backpedaling full speed. “I didn’t mean to – to offend you. It’s just…I get that way. I get sarcastic when I start talking about things I don’t understand or don’t want to understand.”

“Well I want to understand,” Blaine sniffles and the little noise just about breaks Kurt’s heart. “I want to know why you don’t believe in the things I do. I want to know why we’re so different and why, at the same time, we can be such good friends. I shouldn’t even be talking to you but I am.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asks.

Blaine looks up at him over the table. “I shouldn’t be talking to you because you’re – you’re technically a sinner. And you’re not the type of person my parents would generally approve of me being friends with.”

Kurt bites his tongue. He wishes he had a Bible to throw through a window.

“I see,” Kurt says softly.

“But I don’t – I don’t care,” Blaine says. “I don’t care that you don’t believe because you’re still a good person and you’re nice to me and you came to watch me sing. And you still wanted to be my friend even though you knew I was a Christian. You knew and you don’t even believe that God – but you’re still here. You’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here,” Kurt replies. “I don’t let things like…that come between friendships. Mercedes is a Christian. So is Quinn. Rachel and Puck are both Jewish but I’m still friends with them.”

“Wait, Rachel’s Jewish?”

“Seriously? Her nose practically screams Jewish.”

“I like her nose.”

“So does her boyfriend,” Kurt says pointedly because he really needs to make it very clear that Rachel is off limits. “Anyway. I just – I’d never stop being your friend because you believe in God.”

Blaine rubs at his forehead in agitation, like he’s caught up in some kind of internal struggle and Kurt seriously wishes he could be inside this boy’s head right now.

“It’s funny,” Blaine says, almost in a whisper. “It’s funny that I’m the Christian and you’re the one who is preaching about acceptance. And you don’t even have faith.”

“I have plenty of faith, Blaine. Just not in God.”

“Then what do you have faith in?”

“…I have faith in people and that they can occasionally be kind. I have faith in my dad. I have faith that, one day, we can all love freely and be accepted for who we are, no matter their race, religion, or gender. I might not live to see that day, but I can only hope it’ll happen eventually. I have faith in love. I have a lot of faith in love because I think that will ultimately be the thing that ends suffering. I don’t – I don’t believe in God or Allah or any prophet but I believe love in humanity has the power to break us down into the purest creatures we can possibly be. We as humans crave affection and attention and love and just – I don’t think there exists any power greater than that of pure light in this world. People try to snuff it out because they’re jealous or unhappy or ignorant but it’s – it’s still there. It lives inside of us even if we don’t feel it all the time. And it isn’t God or Buddha or Allah or anything like that.”

“What is it?” Blaine whispers.

Kurt smiles at his friend’s eager expression. He wants to reach out and touch Blaine’s cheek and tell him that it’s okay to ask questions, it’s okay to be curious, and it’s okay to be confused sometimes.

“It’s hope,” Kurt says simply. “Just hope.”

Blaine’s eyes shine in the sunlight streaming in through the window. It glitters in his irises and dances on his eyelashes, drying old tears and breeding a new smile. Peace settles around their table and the air is suddenly thick with the scent of lilies and maybe a little rain water.

“I like that,” Blaine says. “Hope.”

“I don’t need to have faith in God to have faith in myself. I don’t need miracles or church or hymns,” Kurt says quietly. “I just need hope. And maybe a little bit of love.”

Wiping away the last of his tears, Blaine laughs lightly over his lunch.

“I think I’ll thank God every day from now on,” he says.

“Why’s that?”

“Because, silly, like I said before…God gave me you.”

Over the next few of weeks, somehow the fact that Kurt is as queer as a three dollar bill never comes up in a single conversation at school. He and Blaine have coffee nearly every day after Glee rehearsal. Sometimes they talk about their classes and teachers they despise. Other days they talk about their religions, or lack thereof, and about what song Blaine is singing with his choir in church. They had both come to an agreement regarding their beliefs; Kurt doesn’t mock Blaine’s faith and Blaine doesn’t bash Kurt’s lack of religion.

Tonight, however…tonight they’re going to see a movie together. So none of that really matters.

As Kurt fixes his hair for the nine billionth time, he keeps reminding himself that it isn’t a date. It isn’t. They’re just two friends hanging out. Just two friends going to a movie.

Except they’re two friends who are going to share an armrest and they’re going to be really, really close to each other in a dark theatre and maybe they’ll pick a scary movie and they can hide each other’s eyes from the scary parts.

Kurt squeals with excitement.

They end up seeing a non-raunchy romantic comedy which is hard to find in this day and age. And they don’t share an armrest because they raise it up to situate the bucket of popcorn between them. But that’s okay because sometimes their knuckles brush when they both reach into the bucket at the same time and that’s when Blaine shoots him a shy, embarrassed glance. They giggle together at the funny parts and Blaine offers Kurt a sip of his soda.

It all goes so very well.

They park Blaine’s car in front of Kurt’s house and end up taking a late evening walk down to the park at the end of the road.

“I love the stars,” Blaine says into the cool, night air.

The moonlight looks far too lovely on Blaine’s cheeks.

“Me too,” Kurt says, though really he’s referring to the stars he sees in Blaine’s eyes.

“Do you believe in life on other planets?” Blaine asks. “Like aliens and stuff?”

Kurt shrugs as they settle themselves on a pair of old, creaky swings on the playground.

“I guess. I mean the universe is massive, it’s hard to believe that we’re the only planet with intelligent life,” Kurt says noncommittally. “Do you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think about it that much. I guess I just – I’m always stuck on God’s plan for me and for our own planet. I don’t think too much about all the other galaxies and things. It’s just…too big.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s overwhelming, you know? To think about space being so big. So vast. It’s one of the reasons I believe in God; there’s so much in the world and I’m so small, so insignificant. But then I remember that God loves me and He put me on this Earth for a reason. And it makes me feel like I have a purpose.”

“You don’t think you could have a purpose without God?”

“I…don’t know.”

“What do you think his plan is for you, why you’re here?”

“Besides spreading His word and populating the Earth with more Christians to do the same? I don’t know. I don’t think I’m supposed to know. I figure, if I’m meant for something great, He’ll give me a sign.”

“You can’t be something great without his approval?” Kurt wonders. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“No, I just meant that, you know, if I am meant for something more it’s because He wills it so.”

“Can’t you will it yourself?”

Blaine’s feet catch on the ground and it stops the slow sway of his swing. He begins to chew the inside of his lip, crushing it with strong teeth and Kurt knows frustration when he sees it. To end his friend’s suffering, he grips the chain of the swing and pulls Blaine closer.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says into the almost-October air. “I didn’t mean – I’m just trying to understand.”

“I know,” Blaine says quickly. “Sometimes it’s like you trip me up, though. And I don’t have the answer to your questions.”

“Well…like you always say. God’s there for you when you don’t have the answers.”

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

“…What?” Kurt asks blankly.

Blaine smiles and his pinky finger brushes against Kurt’s on the swing chain. “It’s a verse from Proverbs in the Bible.”

“You actually memorize that kind of stuff? I thought that was nonsense. I didn’t know people were actually capable of doing stuff like that.”

“You memorize lines in a script for a play the same way,” Blaine points out.

“Yeah but…I don’t know. Say something else.”

“Um, about what?”

“I don’t care,” Kurt says quickly. “Even though I don’t believe in the Bible, it still sounds pretty.”

“Oh. Okay, um…okay. Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for one who loves another has fulfilled the law.”

“What’s that one from?”

“Romans,” Blaine says with a smile. “Chapter thirteen, verse eight.”

“That’s so crazy,” Kurt says, completely fascinated.

“I found that one a few weeks ago, after you told me all about how you believe in love. I – I wrote it out on this piece of paper and stuck it on my wall at home.”

“You just like, flipped through and found it? How do you know where anything is in a book that big?”

Blaine laughs quietly and Kurt’s stomach twists up and around his heart at the sound.

“My parents and I do an hour of Bible study every night before bed.”

“Wow. That is dedication. Do you know any songs?”

“Like what?”

“Like, you know, those pretty songs they teach kids in Sunday school or something. The only one I remember is ‘Jesus Loves the Little Children’.”

“There’s one I always liked. It’s not so much pretty as it is fun, I guess. Since it’s for kids.”

“Sing it for me?” Kurt asks. “Please?”

Blaine blushes in the moonlight and looks away for a few seconds. Kurt sees his shoulders shake with silent laughter before he turns back to face him.

“Okay. So it’s really silly.”

“That’s okay.”

After a few seconds of almost-embarrassed silence, Blaine opens his mouth and the sweet, little hymn echoes in the darkened park.

If I were a butterfly,
I'd thank you Lord for giving me wings,
And If I were a robin in a tree,
I'd thank you Lord, that I could sing.
And If I were a fish in the sea,
I'd wiggle my tail and I'd giggle with glee,
but I just thank you Lord for making me.
For you gave me a heart and you gave me a smile.
You gave me Jesus and you made me your child.
And I just thank you Father for making me me.

“It goes on about other animals and stuff but yeah, that’s basically it.”

“That’s kind of adorable,” Kurt admits.

“I always thought so,” Blaine says with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Why do you want to hear all this stuff?”

“I don’t know. It’s like – like how people always like to hear about little quirks in different cultures. It’s not something I’m familiar with but it all comes so easy to you. It’s interesting.”

“You could learn about this stuff if you came to church with me more often,” Blaine says, dropping a not so subtle hint as he sways his swing, bumping into Kurt’s as he says it.

“You know my thoughts on that,” Kurt says flatly.

“I know, I know. But hey, you can’t blame me for trying.”

“I suppose,” Kurt agree, giving a dramatic, put-upon sigh. “I guess I’d better get home before my curfew.”

“Yeah, me too.”

When Blaine walks him to his door a few minutes later, for a brief, insane second Kurt thinks that Blaine is going to lean in and hold his hand or kiss him or something. Instead, Blaine takes a step closer and plucks an eyelash off Kurt’s cheek. He holds it up to Kurt’s lips on his fingertip.

“Make a wish,” he whispers.

Kurt bites back a smile and closes his eyes. The silence on his front porch is heavy and rather warm for a fall evening but he thinks maybe it’s just because Blaine is standing so close to him. He picks his wish and blows lightly. When he opens his eyes, the eyelash is gone and Blaine’s standing there with the porch light glowing on his precious face.

“What’d you wish for?” Blaine asks.

“That,” Kurt says, tapping the tip of Blaine’s nose with a single finger, “would be telling. And if I tell, the wish won’t come true.”

“I thought that only worked on birthday candles.”

“Not true,” Kurt says with a shake of his head. “That rule is applicable to all wishes.”

“I guess I’ll take your word on that.”

“You should. Goodnight, Blaine.”

“Night, Kurt.”

He walks away and it takes every ounce of strength Kurt has to force himself to stay on that porch instead of racing after Blaine and kissing him senseless until he forgets about God and the Bible and his adorable Sunday school songs.

Just as Kurt shuts off his light and he’s about to go to sleep, he walks over to his window and peers up at the stars in the sky. He spots the brightest one and repeats his wish.

Because it never hurts to keep on wishing.

I wish God could give me you.