The mid-October sky taunted us with the thread of frigid gusts and stinging snow. It was a stark harshness that faded into a grey expanse. Many trees had lost their leaves, laying as cracked ribs in the slowly dying body of the Earth. The few trees that still had their blood crimson leaves battled the wind with hopeless fervor as it tried to whisk them all away.
The passing land was a mirror of the afternoon's emotions.
Kurt had stayed relatively silent on the car ride, I didn't try and start a conversation, it was good to know when silence was a necessity. Halfway between Lima and Westerville was the place I had been scouring for. I had been here a few times before as a kid, but I didn't know what made me remember it in that moment. This park still held much of the fall foliage in all its royal airs, the dappled fires and sun rays of leaves were the blush on the sky's color-dead face. I parked my too nice car in the parking lot, protruding loudly from the mass of family vans. Looking over the polished dashboard one could see motherly women on benches, watching their children with a dove's eye, as they clambered around on the clanging metal playground, or as they wrapped the little ones in an agglomeration of too long scarves and knitted gloves. Kurt too looked out to the scene, seeing that we could have all the privacy we needed and yet the protection that came with the lack of solitude.
"Is this fine?" I asked timidly, wanting so dearly to improve his perdition of a day.
"I think its lovely."
I was glad to finally do something right, it warmed my soul like frothed hot chocolate.
I got out of the snug car and circled around to open Kurt's door for him, "Always the gentleman, are we?"
"Why of course." I retorted, giving him a small bow to earn a smirk. He pulled his lake-blue scarf tighter around his slim neck. I was glad he was dressed in his coat and boots because the weather was beginning to drop degrees like one drops wet balloons (and also maybe because those jeans were outstanding and that buttoned coat fit his form delightfully). We walked up onto the curb where there I paused.
"One second..." I began to pull of my shoes and socks, setting them linearly on the concrete, no one here would steal a pair of men's black dress shoes.
Kurt practically screeched, "What are you doing?"
"I don't like socks."
"So? Its like thirty degrees out!"
"Socks are confining, I only wear them so my shoes stay nice, and because people make me." And who cares if its cold, that kind of pain was a numb illusion to me now.
He seemed to have to physically stop himself from ranting about all the things wrong in that statement, instead he went with a restrained, "Just don't get frostbite ok?"
"Alright," I promised giving him a little quirk of the mouth.
"I still think you're ridiculous, just so you know."
I gave him my full on smirk now, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
We began to walk towards a bench that was set farther away from the flock of moms and closer to the spattering of painted trees. The stiff grass felt whole under my feet, the cold no more than a forgotten nuisance in nature, I liked feeling the world unguarded by fabric beneath my feet, it gave me a deepened sense of life.
And, I could always use a deepest sense of life.
As we cantered down the field towards the bench I spoke, "You know, I have only known you for a week, and yet I already feel like we have been best friends for life...is that weird?"
Kurt paused and tilted his head, "No...at least I don't think so...I feel the same way. For me it probably has something to do with the fact that I have been quite deprived of friends and that we actually understand generally what the other is going through. I haven't ever had that before, the only other person who has truly ever cared is my dad." I knew exactly what he meant, except instead of my dad I had the Warblers, "And, also, you've kind of been exposed to all my weakest moments..."
"Its not weak." I turned to face him, "Its not weak, I think you are quite strong facing all this how you are."
He just looked down at his hands, so I continued, "I know what you mean about us fitting together, I don't really believe in fate or whatever it is, but I do think that we were sort of meant to meet...does that make sense?"
He was blushing like a sunrise now, "It makes sense, I sort of have that same feeling..."
We walked on until we met the intricately wrought park bench, Kurt sat down gracefully on the left end, leaning on his elbow with his legs crossed, I sat in the middle, my back straight and unwavering in the way that had been drilled into habit.
"You know," Kurt pondered, "For good friends, I still don't know your full name..."
"Nor I, your's"
"Kurt Hummel," his name was a dance, starting with the light click of dance shoes then rolling off into comfortably warm pirouettes.
"Well Kurt Hummel, I believe I was promised a full name, do you have a middle name?" I joeked.
At this he kind of hunched over and flushed, "On all my documents my name is just Kurt E. Hummel, so I always tell people that my middle name is Elizabeth...that was my mom's name...but, um, I guess I should be honest...my middle name is Evan..."
"Kurt Evan Hummel," the name flipped off my tongue with a tap then a slide, "Its very classy." I smiled over at him, "I like that you honor your mother that way, though, its nice. I am sure that makes her very happy."
"Thank you," he turned even more cotton candy pink, "Though I personally think my real name sounds like a Ken doll..."
I snorted, "Your name sounds like a Ken doll? My name is Blaine. I mean, come on."
"I like the name Blaine, its nice." Once again, my heart swelled with something undeniable.
"I never really liked it...no one else seemed to either...everyone used to tease me about it," again I was being dangerously honest, "They all said it was girly and dumb and ugly..."
"You shouldn't listen to them," he held my gaze seriously, "Making fun of your name is just plain low, its a beautiful name." Again, my heart died.
"Anyways, my full name is Blaine Devon Anderson. I told you it sounds like a Ken doll."
"Well then we can both be Ken dolls, hmm, Mr. Anderson?" Nononono, not Mr. Anderson, that was my father, I did not want to carry that name. That name held that being, and that being held a chasm of unguarded hate. (Kurt doesn't know. He doesn't know and he can't know. Just act calm, like you were always told, don't let it show that you are hurt. Hurt means weak).
I plastered a smile on my face, "Yes we shall live our lives as plastic toys that give young children false perspectives on beauty." He huffed laughter at this.
Soon though his smile slid off his face like old water, his eyes clouded over with the dark smoke of hurt, "Its hard to think that this whole time Karofsky way gay..."
I could feel my own expression contort, "Its sick, he was persecuting someone for being the same thing as he was just because he was scared and this would redirect the attention from himself.."
"If he had just asked for help, or something, I would have given it..." Kurt's voice was thick with exasperation and disgust.
"If only people worked like that..."
We sat in another silence, my bare feet began to tap out a rhythm on the raspy concrete. Soon after my leg took up its dance I realized what I was doing and stopped, putting my legs straight and rigid. I could hear my mothers scolding voice like a ghost in my cranium, "Blaine stop squirming, its an ugly nervous habit. Nervous habits show that you are timid, being timid shows that you are weak, and we won't have that will we?" I could also hear my five-year-old self apologizing in shame, curling in on myself to try and deter the pushing comments, which only earned me more.
I think I must have dazed off, locked into dysphoric memories, because Kurt was looking at me quizzically and asking if I was alright, "Blaine? Are you ok? You kind of just froze up there..."
"I'm fine, sorry."
"You don't have to apologize..."
Wait what? No one had ever said that before, I almost froze up again just because those words seemed to penetrate my soul with a great tornado of wonder, "I-right, sor-uh, right, of course..."
He just looked at me funny for a few more seconds, it took ever muscle for me not to fidget under his gaze. He seemed to decide something for himself and then he was the one to change the subject, "So did you see the new Vogue cover?"
"Um...duh" it was quite amazing how quickly we could get back into some perspective of normal life, in a way it was almost frightening.
"...says the boy running around barefoot in dress pants and a blazer, not to mention a TIE," so yeah he doesn't understand, not that I fully do, but I could see how I looked absolutely ridiculous.
I sent him a look, then continues, "ANYWAYS, yes, of course I saw it, that Kiera Knightly story was...wow.."
"And that collection of coats? They were like the outfits of my dreams..."
"I loved the new fall collection, it was outstanding."
We continued like this for awhile discussing the ins and outs of Vogue's October edition, forgetting the woes and strife of the universe for a bit and just enjoying the light company of a friend. It was like my body had been waiting years for this, waiting to relax and be myself (well ok as much of myself as I could safely let free) and who knows? Maybe it had been.
"Ok, so what is your favorite food? Just in case, you know, I decide to cook something.." Kurt spoke in a sarcastic nonchalance.
"Cooking, eh?"
"Yes, what's your favorite food?"
"That's such a broad subject..."
"Ok, fine," he sighed dramatically, "What's your favorite dessert?"
"What's yours?" I waggled my eyebrows at him, earning a look of mock exasperation.
"Do you always do this?"
"Maybe."
"Ok, FINE, my favorite dessert is toffee pecan sandies with salted caramel frosting."
"That sounds fancy."
"It is."
"Humble, are we?"
He smirked at this, lounging back on the park bench, "I'm not very good at humble.""No? Really?" Now it was my turn for dramatics.
"Ok, but SERIOUSLY! What is your favorite dessert?"
"Well that is a ridiculous question, all dessert is delicious."
"Oh my GOD, Blaine! You are such a teenage boy! Just pick!"
I mumbled something about how dessert could not be limited to just one simple dish, and then decided to reply to the outrageous question, "Well...I guess...ice cream..."
"What kind?"
Now what kind? What was this? The CIA? Fine he was getting a terrible answer. I put on a completely stony expression and replied formally, "Cotton Candy."
Kurt practically fell off the bench in his spasm of disgust, "COTTON CANDY?!?! Seriously Blaine? That is the worst flavor EVER!"
I couldn't possibly hold a straight face with him fuming with incomprehension like that and flailing about. My expression broke and soon I was hunched over, a position that was quite normal for me, but for the first time in a while, it was from laughter not fear. My eyes wrinkled, my face turned the color of that horrific ice cream, my chest burned. I couldn't help myself, "Nah, I was just kidding...its actually Bubble Gum."
He actually did jump off the bench this time, "Ok, I take back what I earlier said, THAT is the absolute worst flavor of ice cream!"
That face was priceless, I could not remember when I had last laughed this hard, "Ok, I'm actually serious this time," my voice lilted with the breathy after-burn of giggles, "My favorite flavor is Orange Sherbet."
"Not great, but your first two answers make Orange Sherbet look like an king."
"Happy I could please," I managed to chuckle out, this earned me, what I was beginning to realize was quite a normal expression, Kurt's death glare that could stop any dog in its path. I gave him my infamous puppy eyes, turning my eyes into large pools of melting sugar. He pinked and looked away, being adorably bashful.
So this was the real Kurt.
He was witty in a sarcastic was, snappy in all its meanings, proud to the penny, kind, lovely, adorable, and drop-to-the-ground-and-faint beautiful.
It was such a sharp contrast to the haunted boy I had seen, this boy was free and ALIVE. He looked so handsome with the filtered sun cascading down on him, shadowing his face in all the right places, making his cheekbones strong, his lips like Dorothy's shoes, his eyes like Winter's hidden blue ice, and his hair a shining glory of caramel.
We sat alike, our smiles small, blushes profuse, sound lost to the breathy aftermath of laughter. The silence, like most things, did not last. A tone from Kurt's cell phone caused us both to jump out of our reverie, he apologized quickly and then got up from the bench. I was left sitting to watch as he paced around in the grass-dead field, its brown spikes gasping up from the earthy ground. I watched as his face grew from worriedto relieved to some kind of complicated potion of both emotions. It was about five minutes later that Kurt hung up, stayed for a second just staring down at the device in his hand, then slowly made his way back over towards me, his face confused in the blocked drab light.
"That was my dad."
That explained the worry.
"...he said that he would have to work late...something about messed up financial documents that he had to redo...I didn't think my dad did finances..."
That was the confusion.
"So I won't be able to talk to himtonight..."
Ah, there was that last expression.
"Ok, so just tell him first thing in the morning then? You shouldn't go to school until something is worked out..."
"I'll try...but usually he sleeps in if he has to work late..."
I sighed, "Kurt, given the circumstances, I think he would be quite glad if you woke him up."
"He needs his sleep..."
I was going to have to be solid, "He needs you to be safe. Kurt, school isn't safe for you anymore. Actually it hasn't been safe for quite awhile. Your dad needs to know what is going on so he can help before anything else drastic happens. You experienced today, and if you keep letting the bullies do this to you it will only keep escalating. Kurt, for your own sake, PLEASE tell your father."
He sat there wringing his hands, his silvery eyes avoiding my gold, "I'll-I'll talk to him..."
"Thank you."
"I-I guess I should get back home..."
"Alright," I helped him up and then stuffed my hands in my pockets as I escorted him back to the car.
I reached the concrete curb and sat down, pulling on my confining socks and shoes so polished they could be the moon.
"So you can drive with shoes but not walk around with them at cold parks?" Kurt smirked down at me.
I returned his gaze with a pedagogical one, "You're not supposed to drive barefoot."
Another look, "You're also not supposed to walk around in almost-freezing weather barefoot."
"Touché," I finished tying my colorless shoelaces then stood up to open Kurt's door for him, earning me a rosy flush (holy freak he was cute when he blushed), and then I continued on to the driver's seat to drive on towards the sinister place where Kurt's nightmares took flight.
•••
We arrived at the school parking lot about an hour after school had released, I pulled around back to the almost empty parking lot, all that remained were the cars of athletes and a few teachers. I quickly picked out Kurt's Navigator from the scattered automobiles, and I pulled up beside it to drop Kurt off. Before he could exit though, I stopped him.
"Tell your dad for me ok? And, promise me you will call or text anytime you need ANYTHING, I may not be able to answer right away because of school and everything but I promise to get back to you."
"Thank you Blaine, no one has-I-I really appreciate-just thanks..." He trailed off.
No one has ever done that for me before.
I know Kurt, I know.
I just gave him a nod, staring down at the steering wheel and then back up, "You sure you're ok driving?"
"I'm fine Blaine, thank you for today, I don't think you realize how much you help." No you are not fine. Yes I can realize, I have a whole flock of blazer-wearing songbirds to look after me, you only have one.
"You're very welcome, see ya' around then Kurt." I waited for him to pull out and away, making sure no creature ambushed him in the school parking lot, before I too pulled away and off towards Westerville.
•••
The world had dimmed into a charismatic rainbow of sunlight by the time I pulled up to the expansive majesty of Dalton Academy. I creaked through the thick oak doors and somehow managed to make it all the way up into my room without running into a concerned, or maybe hyper, Warbler. Closing myself into my dorm, I leaned against the door and dropped my patent leather bag to the ground. Today was exhausting, old memories dug out of their dusty attic boxes, new friendships blooming out into confidence.
I would not sleep welltonight.
I pulled off my shoes, blazer, and tie until I was pacing around in an ironed white shirt and charcoal-dust pants. My Dalton-issued lacy cream curtains flowed in the breeze as I opened the castle-pained window to let in the cold. Cold would maybe keep the monsters away, just numb them into submission. I circled the wood paneled walls a few times before I decided that I could call Jeff for any work I missed, out of all the Warblers he was the only one that would not blab about my escapades, he was quiet like that.
Jeff showed up a while later, "We missed you at practice today Blaine, Wes was so mad we though he might break his gavel. He kept shouting something about teamwork and responsibility...I don't really know...anyways, here are the pages you need to read and then here is the project from physics, you got assigned Corbin as your parter."
"Thank you so much Jeff, and sorry about practice..."
"Nah, its cool, we've all missed some, Wes was just being Wes, all of us were glad for the break." He gave me his crooked smile and then left the room, never once questioning my whereabouts.
Thank the Lord for Good Ol' Jeff.
I sat down at the organized desk and dove into catching up on homework, only stopping to occasionally text Kurt and to be spammed with texts from Wes. By the time I was climbing into the softly sheeted bed, in my striped pajama pants and T-shirt, the sky outside was the soul of a demon, dark to the degree where the only light reflected off windows. The small distorted squares of light from the boy's rooms were the demon's eyes, staring through me to the broken part inside that was patched but with wide stitches. I could feel my numb-cold body begin to quake, sounds seemed to go out like lost radio signals, my world slowly began to darken, darken, darken...until the only sounds were screams and whispers of boiling disgust. Until the only sights were darkness with haunting flashes of past visions. I couldn't breathe, think, make noise. Panic had set, and it didn't plan on leaving until the last inch of my sanity had been ripped out like my old heart.
Tonightthough, instead of seeing the dreams from my own scarred eyes, I saw an anguished boy lying in my place.
A pale boy, taller than I.
•••
I awoke to a tirade of burning bones from a night of stiff contortion. Today was not going to be fun. The light glared angrily in through the still-open window, I stumbled out of bed in a squinted fog to go and close it. The room seemed too small and way too large all at the same time. I figured that this is what a hangover would feel like, but mine was a hangover of panic and nightmare. I quickly washed my face, made my rumpled bed, and stuffed on my blazer. I made sure, with shaking hands, that my hair was gelled to an acceptable degree before walking in a haze downstairs. It was like my head was no longer a part of my body, everything I did seemed as if from a distance, everything was too loud, bright, busy.
It was almost a normal feeling.
I really must have looked atrocious, and obvious, because when I walked into the cafeteria, Wes jumped up to tackle me with an "official" reprimand, saw my face, mumbled something about showing up to practice, and the sat back down, slumped, yet somehow still dignified. They kept the conversation light for my sake, but I could feel their nervous glances when all I ate was half a bowl of applesauce. Actually, I didn't really eat that much, I more just twirled my spoon around in it while watching the cinnamon swirl into the apple-y mush. It was nauseating.
•••
The rest of the day seemed to pass in a whirl of psychedelic colors. I did all my work perfectly, answered all questions asked in my direction, and nodded and smiled when necessary. Inside I just wanted to sleep and not think, neither of which I could do. It was not until right after lunch (which I spent saying no more than required and only nibbling on a few soup crackers) that I almost had another paralyzing panic attack. It was in the middle of Physics that I got a note to go to the office. I almost shut down.
They knew about yesterday.
Of course they knew!
Nononono.
Dad would find out. He would find out. He would find out.
"Blaine? Blaine!" Someone was whispering urgently in my ear, "Blaine? Do you need me to take you to the nurse?" I snapped out of my little world. It was Thad, and his face was serious. Everyone else had moved onto the notes, but Thad had noticed my sweaty hands and dead-white face.
"N-no I'm ok. Sorry, got distracted." I could tell that he saw right through the lucid lie, but he let me go anyways.
I grabbed my wood-brown bag and hurried out of the classroom, my vulnerable head ducked lower than usual. I managed to get to the attendance office somehow, and opened the tall door with the fogged glass.
"Hello Mr. Anderson," Oh god, this was not the time to hear that name. The secretary had yet to turn and look at me past a glance, finishing up something on the computer.
Then she turned around and spoke, "I never thought you would be one to skip class."
"I'm not."
"Apparently you are."
Good point.
"I-um...yeah, sorry..."
She raised a waxed eyebrow at this, "Well it pays off being a good student Mr. Anderson, seeing as this is the first mark EVER for absence on your very clean record, you will not receive detention, only a call to your house."
Not home, not home, not home. I'll take as many detentions as she wants, just don't let her call home.
Wait, dad won't be home for another four weeks...I could run home and delete the message! Not this weekend, I have that project....but next weekend!
It was scary the lengths I would go to stop my father from knowing of my errs.
She turned back to the glowing screen, "Next time will have worse punishment, understood Mr. Anderson?"
I somehow gathered air to produce syllables, "Yes ma'am."
"Good, you may return to class."
•••
I was just finishing up an English assignment that night, when I got a call from Kurt.
Oh my god, oh my god, I forgot about Kurt telling his father today. I am a terrible, terrible person. Why does he care about me again? Oh right, because I lie to him about my true self and make him think that I am just a happy, lovely gentleman. As I said, I am a terrible, terrible person.
"Hello, Kurt?"
A shaky voice answered, "Hi, Blaine."
"Kurt, are you ok? What happened? Did you tell your dad?"
"I guess, I don't really know, sort of."
"...what?"
"Those were my answers to your questions."
"Um...ok...that was vague," I pointed out.
"Right, um well...so I never got to tell my dad this morning..."
"Kuuuuuurt," I sighed.
"I-well-he was exhausted and...he has had some health issues lately...and I just couldn't bring myself to wake him..."
"Ok...so have you told himtonight?"
"Well...he sort of found out today..." Kurt trailed of here, I waited but was greeted only by fuzzy silence.
"Would you care to elaborate?"
"I went to school today," oh god, "and after third period Karofsky cornered me in the hallway," his voice began jumping octaves, "and he-he-he.." His voice broke.
"Kurt, It'll be ok...."
"He b-began to p-press up against me, and he was grabbing my shoulders so tight...I think I have bruises...and then...." I could tell that he was all out crying now, "He-he threatened to kill me..."
Oh my hod, oh my god, oh my god.
No! No you can't panic! Kurt needs you! Breathe, come on, just in and out, breathe.
"Kurt, I need to know what else happened, ok?" I was desperate.
"I didn't even notice, but we were right by Mr. Shue's room, he's the glee teacher who teaches spanish, and he had just walked out...he heard Karofsky and he started yelling...and then I-I must have fainted, I don't know...Anyways, we had this big meeting with the Principal and Mr. Shue, both Dave Karofsky's father and mine where there. Dave got expelled because Mr. Shue was a witness, and my dad pulled me out of school...I don't know what's gonna happen now, but I'm not-I'm not going back there..." He ended in a haunted whisper that made my very atoms emit worry.
"Kurt...hey, it'll be ok...you're at home, no one can hurt you there, ok? And, your dad knows what's going on now, and he seems like a pretty protective and responsible guy, you'll be ok, I promise." I sounded so sure, and here again was another promise I had to keep.
"Its just...I don't know...."
"I know, its overwhelming, I know, but I promise it'll be ok. I promise, and tell me when you find out what you will be doing in terms of school."
"That might not be for awhile, my dad's wedding is this Saturday so it won't be until after that." Oh right, he had told me briefly about this, his dad met some lady (who had also lost a spouse) at Kurt's school's open house, apparently they have been head-over-heels in love since and were now getting married. Kurt was happy for his dad, Carole (I think that was the lady's name...) was really nice, but she had this son who was a year older than Kurt. He played football, so Kurt wasn't to eager to have him as a brother, but he trusted his dad not to marry a into a family rifled with homophobia.
I decided to lend Kurt an emotional break, "You're planning the wedding right?"
He sort of chuckled at this, I was quite obvious in my intentions of a subject change, "Yes, I am."
"And? How is everything going?"
He let out pent up air and then began a Kurt Hummel rant, "Well it's pretty nice, they let me take charge of everything. My dad just wants a wedding, if it was up to him it would be two minutes long and in a barbeque joint, and Carole told me that while she likes pretty things, she has no eye for design. So I get to be in charge. At this point everything is completely planned out, I have a three-tiered Vanilla Bean wedding cake, complete with buttercream roses, edible pearls, and burgundy, that and cream are the wedding colors, ribbon around the base of each tier. My dad, for the Groom's cake, wanted a chocolate cake shaped like a football or a car or something, but personally I thought that was hideous and tacky, so I got him a triple fudge cake, which is horribly unhealthy, with simple fudge icing, and buttercream edging. The whole room is overflowing with cream ribbons and maroon roses, lots of pearls and things, it's all quite elegant. The only thing I don't approve of is the choice of bridesmaids and groomsmen, of course my new brother, Finn, is Carole's Man of Honor, and I am my dad's Best Man, but the others are all from glee club. Finn wanted them to be from the cheerleading squad and football team but my dad refused on accounts of them hating me, and while that conversation was terribly awkward, I appreciated it. So all that was left were my semi-friends from glee, and they are nice enough so it will be ok, I guess. Finn isn't happy with all these people he doesn't know, but there has to be some bridesmaids and groomsmen."
"...wow"
"I know, sorry, it's just that this wedding has been the only thing I have been excited about in so long..."
"No! No, I think it's wonderful!"
"Oh good," he seemed to let out a breath he had been restraining.
"So may I ask why all the groomsmen and things are high schoolers?"
Kurt snorted, "Apparently both Carole and my dad have no friends..."
"So they are stealing yours?"
"Apparently," we were both chuckling now, "Oh! My dad is back from picking up Chinese food, I have to go, sorry. Thanks again, Blaine, for listening to my rants and woes..." He gave a dry laugh.
"Of course," I switched back to being serious, "Call me anytime. Take care of yourself, ok?"
"I promise that not every phone call we share is going to start with me in tears..."
"It's fine, I understand."
"Ok...see you around, I guess."
I didn't want to hang up, "See ya'."
I heard the imposing beep, and my world was white silent. I sat there, still as a valley in my burnished desk chair. My collected facade from the phone call began to fizz around the edges, Kurt's quaking voice jumping through my thoughts.
He threatened to kill me.
He threatened to kill me.
He threatened to kill me.
And suddenly I was being cremated. The room was closing in on me, a furnace of panic. I could feel my body begin to pound with heat, shiver tremors of fire, my neck and hands let off steams of perspiration.
I ran to the window, tripping over practically all my furniture in my frantic rush. I swung out the glass panes with the force of a mad frenzy, grabbing the sill with shaky hands and begging my body not to shut down like a virus infected machine. I gulped in cold air, sticking my head far out of the window to escape the shackles of my dormitory room. I don't know how long I panted there, but eventually the wind began to work its medicine. The cold air washed over me in rivulets of calm, collecting all the adrenalin from my body until there was nothing left but to sink down below the open window and place my throbbing head on my knees.
•••
"Hey Blaine!" His smile made me want to put him in a box and keep him forever.
I greeted that cheesy (yet somehow foxy...) smile, "Morning Nick, did Wes already leave?"
"Something "official" as usual...who knows," he waved carelessly, relaxed, "Was last night better?"
No, "Yes, it was fine."
"I don't believe you." They really did always hold me up.
"Ok, so it sucked." I admitted exasperatedly.
"Though so," he grimaced, "Well maybe today will be better? We get to recommend song choices for the Warblers today, not like Wes will approve any of them, but it feels good to try."
"What are you going to recommend?"
"Bruno Mars' Grenade," he grinned proudly.
"Ooh! That's a good one! I picked E. T."
"Really Blaine? Really? Katy Perry AGAIN?"
"Katy Perry would be my girlfriend if I were straight. And besides, E. T. Is number one on the charts right now."
"I think Teenage Dream was the Council's limit on Katy Perry."
"I don't care."
"Oookay," he warned, then he sat up, "Hey, here comes David and Trent, I'm surprised Trent managed to get David up so early."
"Hey guys!" Trent chirped.
"Hey, yourself," i waved. David had already run off to the food.
"Have a better night?" I loved that they cared, I honestly don't think they even realized what they did for me, it was in their instincts I guess, but I really hated that question.
No point in lying though, "Nope."
"Oh, well tell me if I can help in any way." Dear Trent.
"Thanks, but I really don't think you can any more than you have already."
"We could always try!" Nick cut in.
"Thanks, but seriously, I'll be ok." I reassured them, and myself.
David returned, his plate piled with every unhealthy item the cafeteria offered (I don't know how he was still so skinny), "Was last night good, Blaine?" Oh my god.
"Should I just get up and announce to the school that no, I did not have a good night at all?"
He stopped chewing for a moment, "So I take it you have already been asked that question..."
"Yup."
"Oh, well, maybe some more syrup will make the day better?" At that, David grabbed the syrup bottle from the middle of the table and drowned my toast in its sticky embrace.
"Um...thanks?"
"Your Welcome!"
Breakfast from there was an interesting affair...
•••
Kurt: So my dad found out about Dalton.
Me: Oh?
Kurt: Yeah, there is this guy in glee, Puck, who is also in football, and in the locker room he was joking about how "Hummel went over to that fairy school to check out some dudes" which by the way, I did not, and my soon-to-be step-brother, Finn overheard him. So last night when Carole and he were over for dinner, he asked me if I had really visited the "Garglers" (that is McKinley's new name for the Warblers, it's a long story) and then my dad overheard that and asked me about it. So essentially my dad learned all about how I skipped school to visit Dalton, and I mentioned you in there somewhere, so now he also knows all about our coffee trip. I didn't mention Tuesday's trip though.
Me: I think that is the longest text I have ever received in my life.
Kurt: I tend to ramble in any form available.
Me: So what did your dad think?
Kurt: Seeing as Carole and he have spent the past hour browsing the website, I think they are interested.
Me: That's wonderful!
Me: Oh, sorry! I didn't even ask if you wanted to come here! I know you don't want McKinley but for all I know you could want another school or homeschooling or...god, Kurt, you're infectious, now I'm rambling...
Kurt: Blaine, if I were homeschooled I would die from social malnutrition, it would drain the last meager drops of my social life right out of me. And, of course I want to go to Dalton! It is everything I wish McKinley was.
Me: Good, I didn't just want to assume though...
Me: I hope you come to Dalton.
Me: Sorry, that was selfish.
Kurt: I hope I come to Dalton, too.
Me: Ok
Kurt: Goodnight
Me: Night, Kurt
I set my phone down on my spindly nightstand and pulled my soft blankets up to my nose.
I slept dreamlessly that night, my mind as peaceful as it could be right then.
It was intoxicating.
•••
Wes clanged his obnoxious gavel down on the lustrous desk, to the snickers of the choir. For the first time in about a week all the Warblers were together, and of course that was partly my fault.
There were the Freshman: Lucien, Tino, Dill, Christopher, Maurice (the only other openly gay Warbler), Henry, and De'Javi
The Sophomores: Jack, Kyung Ju (the South Korean exchange student), Travis, Dennis, Marcello, Darion, and Stephan
The Juniors: Wes, David, Thad, Nick, Jeff, Trent, and me
And the Seniors (none of whom ended up in council seats, which I have yet to understand, but I guess Wes couldn't be refused the gavel...I think we may all regret that now...and David and Thad simply charmed their way in): Geovanni, Anthony (the only Warbler I didn't like, he was exceedingly pretentious), Louie, Dane, Cedric, Mao, and Armando
We all chattered like our fat, lemon birds, filling the room with laughter and jokes, ignoring Wes and his wooden toy (he would hit you over the head with that very toy if he ever heard you refer to it as one), only the freshmen sat at rapt attention towards the council desk, not daring to join in on the gavel jokes, being still quite intimidated by Wes' seemingly imposing figure. They would find out soon enough though, that he could never stay mad and secretly had a vast heart and wonderful sense of humor (none of us would EVER joke at him if he didn't himself secretly laugh at the jokes).
"Alright! ALRIGHT!," Wes' face was beginning to turn an unappealing shade of purple, we figured we should actually quite down so he wouldn't have a stroke of stress right then, we really couldn't survive without him, "Today we are going to take song suggestions, we are for sure going to perform Hey, Soul Sister but we still need one other group number. Tryouts for the solo piece will be heldnext Friday, you may not audition if you have or will receive a solo in one of the group numbers, understood? So that takes Blaine off the table, and whoever is assigned Lead in the piece we choose today. The room is now open for recommendations." He banged his gavel again and then we waited patiently, as each person who wished, stood up and gave their suggestion. It was all done with the impeccable order of Wes' leadership.
There was everything from Guetta and Usher's Without You, to the Beatle's Yellow Submarine (which ended up getting the most votes just to smite Wes, but he quickly vetoed that decision). My own Katy Perry song only got three votes Christopher's because he has a giant crush on Ms. Katy, Geovanni's because he fell asleep during the discussion and didn't know what he was voting for, and of course mine. There ended up being a tie between Grenade and Guetta and Sia's Titanium. After a loud and raging battle over leather couches and coffee tables (it involved much wrinkling of each other's blazers and threats of salt in sugar shakers at breakfast...that was the epitome of a bad-boy at Dalton) it was decided that we would be singing Titanium. Tryouts for Lead would be held on Monday, not that I could tryout, I already had the Lead for our Train song. The meeting ended with Nick's crushed heart, along with a few others, but an overall air of excitement. Titanium was going to be stuck in my head for the next five months, and I didn't care.
•••
"So how did the wedding go?" It was a peaceful morning, half of the boys were at home, the other half just now bothering to get up. It was the day after Kurt's family size doubled.
"Everything I planned worked out perfectly, which was incredible, and my dad was ecstatic the whole time."
"How were the glee kids?"
"They were all pretty nice, distant, but polite."
"And how is the step-brother?"
"Well, we have practically been living together for the past month, but I always thought that eventually he would be mean to me, but so far he hasn't. I mean, he can be quite thick-headed sometimes, but only in a clueless sense. He really is just a giant teddy bear, frightening to look at but warm inside. He actually danced with me a little at the beginning, he was the only one my age who offered. He also promised to look after me, I think he really meant it, and he apologized for all the times he saw his teammates bully me while he did nothing. "
He was lucky to get a brother like that, "Well it sounds like overall it was a pretty good day, and I think I just may approve of this Finn kid."
"It was a pretty good day," I could hear his wry smile over the phone, "And since when does my step-brother need your approval?"
"Since always," I quipped back.
"It was good to see my dad happy like that."
I could practically see the gaping chasms in my own family structure, "Well, congratulations on your new family!"
"Thanks, Blaine," he laughed, "I actually called though to say that my dad is calling your school tomorrow to schedule a tour and information meeting for Wednesday."
"Oh that's WONDERFUL!" I sat up shock straight from where I was lounging on my narrow bed (I only allowed myself to relax when I was alone and safely locked in my room). Elated was too weak a word to describe what I was feeling.
Kurt was probably coming to Dalton!
KURT going to DALTON!
"Someone sounds excited," I could imagine his eyebrow up in a smirking giggle.
We continued on babbling about our lives, and the dumb things Finn has done, until the grandfather clock at the end of the varnished corridor chimed eleven, and I figured that I should get going with my life.