Chapter two- turn your back on tomorrow

A doctor sees him over a long period of time with multiple visits, and, when taking his leave for the last time, deems Blaine fit for school.

"Just in time," he says with a wink. "At least you'll have no lost homework to make up, starting when everyone else does."

"Where am I going to school?" Blaine says. He remembers bits and pieces of lessons at Dalton—math was all right, but the unit on patterns had been the best, English was astoundingly good in all cases, and gym was the worst—

—teach him a lesson he'll never forget—

"McKinley High," his mother says dismissively. "Not nearly as good as Dalton, but it'll suffice."

For reasons he does not understand, Blaine is fairly elated to not be going back to Dalton. And McKinley High—with the name comes the unbidden thought—where is Kurt?—to which he knows the answer—

Kurt is at McKinley.

And soon, Blaine will be there too.

Everything's coming up poppies, isn't it, Blaine?

Yes. Yeah. Blaine smiles for the first time in—four years?

Smile while you still can. It's not as dandy as you might think.

Blaine has been watching a movie in his head. He didn't tell anyone about it because—Blaine is insane—but it's starting to become a clearer picture, the color filling in one imagined pixel at a time. Something about the movie tells him that shoes are important, and, even if he's not quite certain what the movie is yet, Blaine is filled with a terrifying fear that his shoes are gone. He sits bolt upright and looks frantically around his room.

His loafers have been shined to a gleaming perfection for his first day back at school, and, in the right lighting, appear almost apple-red.

No.

Ruby.

Ruby red.

What was it about the rubies?

He doesn't remember. The whirlwind of his mind is too wild a one for him to chase and comprehend.

But he does remember Kurt.

*

Kurt, who is now tall and lanky and who has streaks of black coloring his hair, Kurt, who is wearing storm gray boots the color of the sky and a pale blue double-breasted coat with a subtly patterned gray scarf peeking from its collar, Kurt, who has pierced his nose once and his ear once and his other ear thrice, all silver studs except for one small black claw-shaped ring, who is taking long drags on a cigarette when Blaine first spots him out of a window in third period Spanish. He is standing on the top bleacher and surveying the empty football field until a slim hand with dark painted fingernails pulls him back under the bleachers and Blaine realizes—

Kurt is a Skank.

What the hell could have brought on that change?

*

Kurt:

What do I do? I know he's back. He's back at McKinley, and people are gossiping, saying he's changed, saying he's odd and demented and that Dalton fucked him up bad. Obviously Dalton fucked him up bad. I knew that would happen. And yet—I let him go. I let him go. I could have done so much more and checked up more often and instead I go all rebellious because of Dad's condition. Becoming a Skank hurt Dad so much. I can tell. The last time I said "I love you" to him was right after he told me his diagnosis. Months ago. When will I be able to say it again? And not just to Dad. I miss—I've missed—No more crying, Kurt. What would he say? What would he say? He's my prince. I miss my prince—my brave prince. I miss Blaine. But what can I do? If I break the Skank pact, Q is going to kill me. I can't talk to any outsiders, that's one of the first rules. He'll never go for being a Skank. Initiation into this crazy group nearly killed me, even if I needed it. I can't do that to him, though. I can't hurt another person like I hurt my dad—not ever again. I'm so scared. Where is Blaine's prince? Ha, yeah right. But what would he say? If he knew—if he knew—I can't tell him. He's got enough to handle. Courage, Kurt. Courage. You'll make it through this year yet.

*

Blaine remembers Kurt, but he's not the way he was before. Anyone could see that. And Blaine didn't remember Rachel Berry, that's for sure. She's hosting a party tomorrow night for the freshmen and sophomores only, probably to try to be more popular in her first year at McKinley. It's gonna backfire for sure, he can tell. People in his classes are planning to go for the food and the rumored alcohol, then never speak to Rachel again. They're doing this all behind her back, and Blaine knows it's going to hurt her badly. He thinks about going briefly, but then—why bother? Everyone's labeled him as the fuck-up freak, and they're not quite wrong. Even so, he finds the whole ordeal sad enough to mention to Cooper over the phone. Which is, as it turns out, not the best idea.

"A party? Blaine, this could be your big break!"

Who the fuck talent-scouts at a party exclusively for 9th and 10th graders? Blaine holds his tongue, barely.

"Listen, you just have to go." Cooper rambles on excitedly, but he doesn't regain Blaine's attention until—"Squirt, I know you're not the best at making friends. Even if it's a total bust, which it will be, and there aren't any talent scouts there, which there should be—" Blaine rolls his eyes—"you can at least make friends."

Blaine thinks that this is the most pathetic he's ever felt in his life: lessons on friendship from his overdramatic older brother. It's kind of nice that Cooper cares about his social life, but it's probably just so that on the off chance that any of Blaine's friends become huge talents later in life, Cooper can say "I knew him!" and "I told you so."

Blaine wishes that Cooper just didn't care.

God knows Blaine doesn't.

"Please, Blainey? For your big brother who's all the way in California, in the capital-C college?"

Blaine refrains from correcting his brother—college is not a proper noun. He says instead, "I'll think about it."

"Good, Squirt," Cooper says, and there's a touch of something like fondness in his voice. "I'm glad that you're trying."

Blaine thinks it would be so much easier to just give up, and the blackness fumbles through his vision as he hangs up the phone and slumps back into his bed.

*

Cooper:

For the most part, I really do like college. It's nice not having Mom and Dad hovering over me every single second. And it's nice having girls and parties and possible talent scouts everywhere—California is the shit. But I do miss Blaine. And not just in the sense that he's miles away from me on a map. He's getting detached. It's the way he was before—well, he doesn't remember a time before Kurt, but I do. And letting Mom and Dad send him to Dalton was one of the worse things I've ever done to Blaine. I knew it would ruin him. But I still let him go. Why did I do that? Did I really think that it would be better there? Did I forget how miserable Blaine was for the first six years of his life? God, I hope not. It's true I avoid thinking about things that make me sad—that's the secret to my happiness. It's just that some things you can't avoid forever.