"Are you sure we should be doing this, Blaine?" Rachel questioned, stepping up onto a higher step underneath the white bleacher staircase, "let alone be here."

"Kurt and Quinn don't get here until what? 10am latest, it's only 8am, we have nothing to worry about, besides; this could be good for our relationship!" Blaine chuckled.

"What relationship? Also this could be bad, really bad, this could end tragically!" Rachel gawped, waving her arms around in circular motions, nearly falling off the step she was standing on.

"Listen, Rachel, all we're going to do is hang this one piece of music sheet paper up, and a note along with it," Blaine laughed sarcastically, "we're not going to get shot, hun."

"Why are we doing this anyway, B?" Rachel smiled warmingly because she didn't really even need to ask to know that this was about Kurt, streching out the cellotape in her cold hands and biting down on the sticky clear strip breaking a small area off, holding it infront of Blaine's face.

"Thanks," He mumbled quietly as he pushed the tape down onto the papers, sticking them onto the metal, "anyway, we, my friend, are doing this because, I, Blaine Anderson, know for a fact that, Kurt Hummel, loves to sing an—"

"Hold on, before you carry on with this, Kurt told us all that he likes to sing, not just you," Rachel informed him, smirking.

"And," He pressed, "I want—no—told, him that he should feel loved and that I would be the one to make him feel that way."

"You.. did what?" Rachel looked shocked, but then brushed it off because come on, this is Blaine Anderson, her crazy, nerdy, gorgeous bestfriend, this is the type of stuff he would do.

"Y-yeah, anyway, we should—look, I really like him, and we've only somehow just started talking to eachother, this is my chance, Rach," He looked at her with his honey brown puppy eyes, "my chance to get Kurt Hummel to fall hopelessly in love with me."

Okay getting Kurt to fall hopelessly in love with him sounded even more sillier out loud than it did originally in his head.

"That alcohol from last night, I swear is still passing through my veins this very second," Kurt pointed out, grasping the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb—very well manacured thumb thank you very much.

"You did drink a whole bottle of vodka to yourself, it's not like you're going to get off easy."

Kurt laughed lowly at the words 'get off easy' earning Quinn to slap him playfully on the ear, their usual banter whilst walking up to their normal spot under the bleachers, the place where other pupils never dared to even look at, let alone visit.

"Crap," Kurt hissed, patting quickly around his leather jean pockets, "I forgot my lighter, can I use yours, Q?"

"I'd say yes, but I threw one of my old lighters over the other side of the railings like, yesterday before I met up with you, it has a fair amount of gas inside," She nodded towards the direction of the abandoned lighter, picking at the ends of her own cigarette and holding up a green lighter, "need to save the gas in this one."

"Okay, so, I ask again—can I borrow your lighter?"

"My old one, yes."

Kurt grunted, "Why are you so difficult, Quinn Fabray?"

"Do you want to smoke or not, Kurt Hummel, just, run over there, or something."

Flipping her off—which was surely but slowly coming his regular thing—he started to trudge down towards the awful blue railings that were placed next to the bleachers, incase a baseball or a rugbyball accidently got hit abit too high and went out into the road, so therefore; railings, which were quite high, how Quinn got her lighter over there he didn't know, but didn't question it anyway.

"Damn, it's locked," He uttered as he came towards the door of the railings, dropping his head down in defeat, but smirking as he saw a small paper clip conveniently placed on the floor, "or not."

It took a few tries of picking the lock—which he'd learned to do from Quinn giving him lessons—but he finally swung the door open, noticing Quinn's old colourful Bob Marley lighter propped up against the sidewalk, picking it up and shaking it a couple times just to test if there genuinely was gas inside, which there was.

"Finally."

Kurt slowly closed the door, it creaking as he did so, giving some what dagger eyes towards the door, then stopping as soon as he realised he was giving dagger eyes to a door what the fuck, Kurt.

Pondering back up towards Quinn, who was faced away from him with two pieces of paper between her small hands, flicking through them whilst sucking on the orange end of her cigarette.

"I got it," Kurt announced, smiling at the back of her head, rolling his eyes and taking a cigarette out of his Marc Jacobs bag.

"That's not the only thing you've got," Quinn laughed, blowing out some more smoke, her pink lips parting.

"Whaf do yew meah?" Kurt mumbled against the cigarette placed between his mouth, pulling it out, inhailing, exhailing, "what do you mean?"

Quinn forcefully chucked the slightly crumpled up paper towards Kurt's direction, "apparently," she pointed towards the title on top of the page, "another duet."

"Another—what?"

"I said," She coughed, "anot—"

"I know what you said, Q."

He scanned the paper quickly, the words 'your biggest fan - never shout never' printed directly at the top, followed by tonnes and tonnes of lyrics and music notes.

The next paper—which was smaller than the other but still fairly large—had a bunch of words written in the neatest handwriting Kurt had ever come across.

Dear Kurt,

Hopefully you are reading this because if you're not then this has been a waste of time, well, maybe not totally a waste of time but, yeah, anyway, I've attached some music paper onto the back of this note, but surely you would of already seen it.

I told you that I wanted to make you feel loved after our conversation in our Art class yesterday and I am acting apon it as soon as I can because like I said you deserve love and I want to be the one who gives it to you.

I dont really know what else to write apart from that like the lyrics say, "I'm a real big fan of yours, but I'm quite the joke to you," because I know you probably think I'm a joke, and that this is a joke but it's not, I really want to sing this song with you in Glee Club because honestly your voice is like listening to heaven.

Please think about it?

-Blaine xxxxxxx

"I'm going to kill him," Kurt gritted his teeth after he read through the whole note, "I'm going to skin him alive, then kill him."

"Oh come on, it's cu—"

"Don't even say that it's cute," He hissed, words coming out in a rush, "hes using the fact that I never feel loved as a sick remedy for his stupid little crush on me, but it's not just that, it's the fact that anyone could of seen this pathetic piece of trash and my reputation would of drastically plummeted down to nothing."

"Again with the reputatio—"

"Reputation is life, repuation is everything and everything is everything, if you don't have repuation then why are you talking to me, I get to say that, me, because I have repuation."

"Kurt, he didn't know," Quinn finally spoke without getting stopped, she placed her hands softly on her bestfriend's shoulder blades, "he's in love with you, can't you see it? People do stupid things when they're in love, or.. something like that, my internet froze at that point so I—"

"I don't care, what this is, whatever that nerd wants is obviously not what I want—"

"Just, don't kill him, okay?" Quinn humored, "Have another cigarette and calm the fuck down."

"Kill him? No," He laughed, placing another cigarette between his lips, "scare him a little? Most definitely."

Thinking more and more about what Blaine had done made Kurt even more mad by the second, which is why he was heading to Glee Club, late, full of anger and rage, head full of smoke, feeling slightly off guard from the fumes of last lessons science experiment and break times how many cigarettes do you think we can smoke before the bell rings, Kurt?

To which the answer was 12, each.

It was hard, for Kurt, to suddenly have someone who thought that they were in love with you—someone who he had honestly never knew even existed—and for himself to not know what love was, to be so broken, damaged, not good enough.

No, he wouldn't cry, not now, Kurt Hummel does not cry.

But if Kurt Hummel doesn't cry then why are his cheeks damp from tears?

God he was such a screw up.

Anger was bubbling up in his veins, he could literally feel it happening, he felt like screaming, laughing, dancing, singing, his emotions were all mixed and he didn't have control over them anymore, he never had control over his emotions.

He sauntered into the dull feeling choir room, hands flopping mercessly against his sides with the papers scrunched up in his hands, crackling along his jeans, feeling hopeless.

Ignoring Mr. Shue's request to sit in your seat Kurt, sit down you are late, he stood directly infront of Blaine, papers still bawled up inside his left hand, "I—" he choked out, face flashing with a spark of anger, "why, Blaine?"

"Sit down, Kur—" Mr. Shue tried, getting cut off by a jolt of Kurt's hand in the air.

Kurt was searching Blaine's face all over, searching and searching but what for, he didn't know, so he let it all out, all the pain, hurt, the feeling of being unloved, boiled over and once again, escaped.

"I'm broken, Blaine, I'm broken and there is nothing you can do about it, even that letter you stuck on the bleachers, as stupid as it was made me feel even more broken than before, you can't make me feel loved, Blaine, better yet I don't want to feel loved, I want to feel damaged because I deserve it more than anything, and you need to get over this crush because trust me sparkly eyes," The corner of Blaine's mouth turned up into a small smile at the nickname, "you don't want to get involved with me."

"I should hate you for what you did today," Kurt carried on, guesturing towards the pieces of paper still crumpled in his palm, "sticking this up where literally anyone in the whole entire school could see, read, then judge the fuck out of me, make me feel even more lonely, my reputation is the only thing I have and the only thing that keeps me going, knowing that some people are scared to come up to me and have a simple chat, an—"

"It keeps you going?" Blaine laughs, "Kurt you're deliberately pushing people away from you and your life, and you're telling me that you actually want that?"

"Y-yeah."

"Liar."

"Excuse me?" Kurt was taken back, Blaine had never forcefully spoken down to him.

"You've finally got someone who thinks that they're positively in love with you and you want to push them away? Kurt doesn't that sound a little bit stupi—"

"No one has ever been in love with me before, Blaine, I've never dated anyone, this is all so unusual for me, why can't you understand that?" Kurt was almost sobbing, he clenched his hands into tight fists and rubbed at his red rimmed grey-blue eyes.

"Mr. Shue, c-can me and, Kurt have a second to talk please?" Blaine politely asked, raising his right hand.

"Sure—Sure just, don't be long, we need to practise." Mr. Shue nodded, guesturing for them to leave the room.

"Okay—" Kurt raised an eyebrow but followed Blaine out of the choir room anyway, because what did he have to lose, right?

As soon as they got out into the hallway something strange happened.

Kurt eloped Blaine into a tight hug.

Blaine, not knowing what to do started to pull away until Kurt sobbed then whispered, "please, just hug me."

So Blaine did, Blaine held onto Kurt so tightly like his life was depending on it and vice versa, Kurt was grasping on to Blaine's white fitted t-shirt like a life-line, if Blaine moved he felt like he would just drop dead on the spot.

Which was strange.

"This is so weird," Blaine whispered after a while of the taller boy crying into his neck.

"What is?"

"This. Me hugging you, you hugging me back, I don't know I—I guess I never thought it would happen," He admitted, accidently brushing a stray piece of Kurt's hair from his face before he could stop himself.

Kurt just smiled, bright and beautiful, thinking about how the touch of Blaine's fingers on his face sent electric shocks down his spine.