Dear Friend,

Do you remember that song I was telling you about? The one by Pink? We were in Kurt’s car on our way to the Lima Bean and I didn’t notice I was humming it. Santana was driving and wasn’t paying attention to me, but I think Kurt recognized the song because he turned to me from the passenger seat and asked, “Do you sing, Blaine?”

“I used to. My mom taught me how to play the piano when I was four, but my dad sold it. I think it was because it reminded him of my mom.”

“How old were you?”

Kurt was very quiet when he asked this.

“Ten,” I answered just as quietly.

He nodded, his eyes sad. “My mom passed away when I was eight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kurt said.

He was right. It wasn’t my fault, but people say that in funerals all the time. Maybe people should start saying “I’m sad for you” instead because I think that’s what people mean they say, “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, Moaning Myrtle,” Santana said, “Let the Hobbit show off those pipes.”

Kurt gave her his scariest bitch face and slapped her on the arm. I would have been scared if Kurt had looked at me like that, but Santana ignored him. She winked at my reflection on the rearview mirror and then Santana started singing the song I was humming, just like that.

“Made a wrong turn,
Once or twice,
Dug my way out,
Blood and fire
Bad decisions,
That's alright
Welcome to my silly life.”

Her voice had a beautiful raspy quality and it made my heart ache listening to her.

It made me wonder about the things in Santana’s life that she considers to be her fault. There are many things that people blame on themselves when they really shouldn’t and I wonder if that’s the case with Santana.

I saw Kurt reach over and squeeze Santana’s knee before he continued the song.

“Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood,
Miss "No way it's all good"
It didn't slow me down.”

If I thought Santana’s voice was beautiful then I’m not sure what to say about Kurt’s voice. I will try my best to explain to you what it feels like to listen to Kurt sing, but as I’ve mentioned before, I’m not very good with words.

Have you ever woken up to a bird singing outside your window? It’s too early in the morning and your brain doesn’t quite work properly yet, but you get up and stand by your window and you listen anyway. You can’t help but listen because you’re afraid that the sound will go away and you’ll never be able to hear it again. You listen because it’s the most magical sound you’ve ever heard and it’s a privilege to have heard it at all.

That’s what it feels when you hear Kurt sing.

“Mistaken,
Always second guessing,
Underestimated,
Look, I'm still around.”

Kurt gave a little shrug of his shoulders and motioned for me to join him. The thought of singing in public terrifies me, but in Kurt’s car with him and Santana, I felt as safe as I used to when my mom would sit me by the piano to teach me old songs. I squeezed my eyes shut and imagined myself singing in the study where the piano used to be.

“Pretty pretty, please
Don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than...
Less than perfect.”

I opened my eyes in the middle of the chorus and was surprised to see Kurt’s eyes looking back at me. I’m not sure if he had been staring at me the whole time but my eyes locked on his and it was like swimming in a sea of galaxies. Blue and green and hazel and silver mixed with a spark that was uniquely Kurt’s.

“Pretty pretty please
If you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing
You are perfect, to me.”

We both trailed off and I could feel myself turning red as I kept my eyes on Kurt. I meant every word of that last line; he was perfect to me in every way.

Santana’s voice broke the trance we were in.

“Woah, shorty pants. I figured you knew how to carry a tune, I didn’t know you could sing like that.”

Kurt snapped forward and stared out his window. The sudden quiet made me worry that I had done something wrong.

“My mother was a music teacher and my brother’s an actor,” I told Santana. “My brother says performing is in my blood, but I think I take after my father more. He prefers to watch rather than be watched.”

Kurt didn’t look at me when he said, “I think you can be whatever you want to be, Blaine. Regardless of what the rest of your family does.”

There was stinging pain in my heart. I’m not sure if it was because I was afraid I had done something to offend Kurt or if it was because it was the first time that anyone has ever told me that.

Santana gave Kurt a look I couldn’t interpret and switched on the radio. She started singing along to the song and nudged at Kurt to do the same. He didn’t give in at first, but Santana kept poking him until he playfully slapped away her hand and started singing as well.

Soon the two of them were singing so loud that their voices had drowned out the radio.

I didn’t sing along this time because I didn’t want to. I just leaned back on the seat and listened.

Love always,

Blaine