Storms can bring fear, cloud judgment, and create confusion. Yet God promises that as you seek Him through prayer, He will give you wisdom to know how to proceed. The only way you will survive the storm will be on your knees.

-Paul Chappell, Pastor

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers softly at his side.

“Just take me home,” Kurt says, face buried in his hands. “I know you don’t want anything to do with me but I don’t know where we are and I don’t want to walk back alone.”

Blaine says nothing in return immediately, but Kurt hears him unlock the doors to the car. He hears his footsteps on the dirt road and most likely the sound of the blankets and the book being thrown into the back seat.

“It’s getting colder as the sun goes down,” Blaine eventually says. “You’re going to freeze out here. Let’s sit in the car.”

Kurt can’t dispute that fact. The sun is dipping down below the horizon and his nose is already starting to turn into an ice cube so he stands without a word and climbs into the passenger seat. Blaine gets in the car as well, immediately turning the car on and cranking up the heater.

After a few, long moments of silence, Blaine finally speaks again.

“Why do you think I won’t want anything to do with you?” he asks quietly.

Kurt swallows loudly, afraid to even admit it out loud. “Because – because I kissed you. And you’re not – not like me.”

“So you…weren’t just confused?” Blaine asks. “You weren’t just – I mean, you knew I was me? That I was a boy?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, laughing hollowly. “I know you’re a boy. That’s not a fact that suddenly slipped my mind.”

“Oh.”

With that last word, Blaine puts the car in reverse and they pull away from the fence. He turns them around and knocks the gear shift into drive so they can head back home. Kurt bids a silent farewell to the place that held a few, brief minutes of Heaven for him because now, in this car with the heat up so high that it’s nearly stifling, it’s beginning to feel like Hell.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Blaine asks.

“Tell you what?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were gay?” Blaine clarifies. “And that you…wanted to kiss me?”

“Because I know exactly what Christians think about us,” Kurt says lowly. “And I didn’t feel like hearing you tell me that I’m a sinner and that I’m evil or that I deserve to die.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says softly. “We’re not all like that.”

“From what I hear, most Baptists are.”

“Well you obviously haven’t met many Baptists.”

“And you obviously haven’t met very many gay guys because if you had, you’d have guessed it sooner,” Kurt snaps, mostly because he’s mad at himself.

“You’re right,” Blaine admits. “I have never met anyone gay in my life. And where I’m from, most of the people that lived there probably would say stuff like that to you, about being a sinner and about being evil.”

“Thank you for making my point.”

“But you should know by now that we’re not all the same. I didn’t beat you over the head with my Bible when you told me that you were an Atheist, did I?”

“You did call me a sinner.”

“That’s because, well, I mean as a Christian and a member of the Baptist church, we’re taught that not believing in God is, in fact, a sin,” Blaine says.

“And what exactly would you, as a Christian and a member of the Baptist church, say about me being gay?” Kurt presses.

Kurt looks directly at Blaine, who now seems to know he’s under scrutiny considering how hard he’s chewing on his lip. Blaine takes a deep breath and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“According to the Bible, a man should not be with a man the same way he’s supposed to be with a woman. We’re taught that it’s not only a sin, but an abomination in the eyes of God.”

“And I’m sure you know exactly where to find that bit of wisdom in your book as well,” Kurt drawls, turning his eyes back to the road.

“I do,” Blaine says. “But…it isn’t my place to judge you or any other homosexual. Only God can do things like that. Only God can judge. Only God can punish those who choose to live their lives in sin.”

Kurt snorts loudly at Blaine’s last statement before shaking his head in disbelief.

“What?” Blaine asks.

“Do you honestly think I chose to be gay?” Kurt wonders. “Do you think I chose to be different? To be taunted and bullied and harassed and scorned by those who do believe I deserve to die? Do you really think I chose to be an outcast?”

Blaine’s jaw drops open. It snaps shut just as quickly.

“What?” Kurt asks.

“That’s – that’s what you meant on the first day of school. In the lunchroom. You said you were an outcast.”

“So?”

“I didn’t know what you were talking about. After you told me – I thought you just meant that you were an Atheist.”

“No,” Kurt says lowly. “I don’t get tossed into dumpsters or shoved around every day because I’m an Atheist. I get treated like that because I’m gay. I get treated like that because the people that treat me that way think I should stop being who I am. They think I should choose to stop being gay.”

“I don’t understand,” Blaine says softly. “If you’re treated like that and it’s so bad…why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I what?”

“Why don’t you stop being gay?”

“…Have you not been listening to anything I’ve been saying?” Kurt asks, hurt obvious in his voice.

“I – I have, but-” Blaine bites his lip, silencing himself.

“But what?” Kurt asks.

Blaine doesn’t speak right away. It’s too quiet in the car and darkness is slowly pressing in around them as the sunlight dies. Blaine flicks on the headlights. He looks to be turning phrases over in his mind, as if he wants to say something without Kurt getting offended. But if Blaine really thinks that Kurt can choose to be different, can choose to not be himself, then Kurt doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make this better.

“I don’t understand,” Blaine says again.

“What, precisely, do you not understand?”

“I don’t understand how it isn’t a choice,” Blaine continues. “I don’t understand how you just…are gay. If it isn’t a choice, how does someone come to be gay?”

“I was born gay,” Kurt says flatly. “I was born with an attraction to males. I was born with that inclination. When I was younger, I liked dressing up in my mom’s high heels. I liked singing and dancing. I liked clothes and I liked baking.”

“But aren’t those – I mean, aren’t those girl things?”

“Nothing is innately masculine or feminine. When we’re born, they give us blue hats or pink hats. Boys are automatically given toy cars and Tonka trucks. Girls are given baby dolls and Barbie dolls. Our society has developed around those ideas; society and culture made high heels and singing and dancing girl things. I didn’t.”

Blaine furrows his eyebrows, looking even more confused. The two fall quiet in the car. Kurt feels like he’s in a sauna. He turns the heater to low. Blaine says nothing. Kurt stares out the window, shadows of trees, old houses, and electrical posts whizz past until they finally enter the Lima city limit.

“But…did your mom and dad not give you the boy toys?” Blaine asks.

“They did initially,” Kurt explains. “But I never liked playing with them. I liked tea parties.” He shrugs. “I don’t know why I did, but I did. I liked tea parties and I hated riding my bicycle. We just – we like what we like, Blaine. And I happen to like men, not women.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you like girls?”

“Because I – because I don’t. I’m not attracted to them. I’m not attracted to their breasts or their butts or their soft curves. I don’t think about having sex with them, I don’t want to have sex with them.”

“Have you ever, you know, been with a girl? At all?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shivers at the thought. Well, at the memory, really.

“Yes. I’ve kissed a girl. I even – um – dated her for a while. But it wasn’t because I wanted to. I was trying to…get attention.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story,” Kurt sighs. “But suffice it to say, I was never attracted to her. I didn’t enjoy kissing her at all. In fact, all I ever did was ask her what it was like to kiss a boy.”

“…You never kissed a boy before?”

“No,” Kurt says.

“So – I don’t…how did you know you wanted to kiss me?”

Kurt shifts uncomfortably in his seat. This isn’t really what he was expecting to talk about, but he supposes he owes Blaine some sort of explanation.

“I don’t…want to scare you,” Kurt begins slowly. “I know you’re not – not used to this and you don’t understand where I’m coming from but I don’t want you to like, freak out or anything.”

“I won’t,” Blaine says, taking a few seconds to assure Kurt with an understanding glance. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Kurt takes a deep breath. “I like you.”

“Like…in a sex way?”

“No! I mean, wow. Okay, no it has nothing to do with sex. I know what I was saying before makes it sound like – okay. Have you ever had a crush on someone? Anyone?”

“…Yeah.”

“It’s like that. Just like how a guy has a crush on a girl or vice versa. I like – I like spending time with you,” Kurt admits nervously. “I like seeing you smile. I like making you smile. I like getting coffee with you and going out to the movies. And I know you…I know you see us as just friends. I know you see that kind of stuff as just hanging out with a friend. And I see it that way, too. But I – I see it that way because I have to. I have to make myself realize that it’s not a date and that you’re not interested. But a lot of times I – I wish it was a date. I wish I could hold your hand the way straight couples do. And when we were – earlier when we were lying on the blanket…I just felt – I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you so bad so I did,” Kurt finishes in a rush, breath leaving his lungs as his heart races.

“Oh,” Blaine whispers, turning down Kurt’s street.

“And I’m sorry,” Kurt says quickly. “I’m so sorry. I never should have – but I did and – I’m sorry. I know you don’t see me that way and I know I should just be thankful that you didn’t slap me or something. But I can’t…help how I feel about you.”

“So…you still like me? Even if I don’t like you back?”

Kurt forces back his tears as a small smile stretches across his lips. “Have all of your crushes always liked you back?”

“No,” Blaine admits.

“Did you still like them?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, voice going soft as he pulls up in front of Kurt’s house.

Kurt nods and wipes the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“But I didn’t – I didn’t know guys could feel that way about guys. I didn’t know a boy could actually like another boy the way they’re supposed to like girls,” Blaine explains.

“Why does it always have to be about ‘supposed to’s’?” Kurt asks quietly. “Why are we supposed to like one thing and not another? Why can’t we just like what we like?”

“Because we can’t just – we can’t just do whatever we want,” Blaine says. “It isn’t right.”

“According to God,” Kurt assumes. “It isn’t right because God says it isn’t right.”

“Because in the Bible-”

“Fuck your Bible,” Kurt hisses, ripping off his seatbelt and leaning over toward Blaine. He takes Blaine’s face in his hands, framing his cheeks with his palms. “Fuck your Bible. Fuck what everyone’s been telling you all your life, Blaine. Fuck everything and look at me.”

Blaine sits frozen, eyes brimming with hot, unshed tears because Kurt has pushed him into a state of nearly hysterical panic with all of this new information, this huge revelation that things aren’t necessarily the way he learned them. And Kurt sees this, he knows why Blaine trembles in front of him but he can’t let go of the last, thin thread of hope he has.

His last hope that a chance still exists, here, inside this car that feels like Hell because the heater still burns on low and his jacket is too warm and Blaine’s skin is on absolute fire beneath his palms.

“Look at me. And tell me if you felt anything, anything at all when I kissed you,” Kurt breathes onto Blaine’s lips.

And Blaine’s face crumbles, features distorting into a pained, sorrowful sort of expression and the tears roll, fat and heavy down his cheeks.

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kurt exhales, breath shaky and voice broken. He can’t speak. He leans forward, forehead pressed to Blaine’s and nods.

Sometimes hope isn’t where you thought you’d find it.

“I’ll see you at school,” Kurt finds the power to whisper.

He pulls away from Blaine, fingertips turning to ice as soon as he steps out of the car. He slams the door behind him and walks up to his front door. His feet feel like lead.

“Kurt!” he hears. “Wait!”

When he turns, Blaine is racing up the path and nearly trips up the porch steps in his hurry to get to Kurt before he walks inside. His eyes are wild and his nose is red from the cold, evening autumn air. His lips are parted. His face is flushed.

He says only one thing.

“Know that wisdom is thus for your soul; If you find it, then there will be a future, and your hope will not be cut off."

Kurt’s legs nearly give out from beneath him but Blaine is there. He pulls Kurt to him with strong arms, pulls him into his warmth, offering Kurt whatever he has to give and then he tilts his head up and presses his soft, sweet lips to Kurt’s one last time.

The world tilts and Kurt grips Blaine’s shoulders because he knows that, if he lets go, he’ll fall and everything will end.

But it does end.

And Blaine pulls away.

Kurt stares back, eyes damp and body shivering.

“Maybe this is why God gave me you,” Blaine breathes. “But I don’t know if I can ever do this.”

A broken sob chokes Kurt’s throat and spills out between his lips. Blaine brushes a tear from his cheek.

And he leaves.

The air is too cold. The front porch is too empty. But the light is still on.