Light threaded through the wavering cream curtains, reflecting off the floor, and lashing into my eyes.
I bounced out of bed (BOUNCED! I never bounce, I fall out, or scramble out, but never BOUNCE!). Kurt was arriving soon.
Oh wait...how soon...
I turned back around and squinted at my alarm clock, 8:42, I only had 18 minutes before he was supposed to arrive!
What does one wear on a day like this? I tore through my closet, trying things on with tripping speed and ripping them back off in exasperation. After about 8 distraught minutes wasted, I settled on navy cuffed pants, dark oxfords, a white cream dress shit and soft cardigan, and of course, in Blaine Anderson style, I topped it off with a nautical red bowtie. I gelled my hair and moisturized my face before whirling out of my room and down into the slightly bustling cafeteria.
"Woah! Blaine, what's with the running...and the dressing up..." Nick quirked an eyebrow at me. His deep green Abercrombie shirt made his eyes seem ever the brighter.
"Kurt's here, and I didn't set an alarm."
"Well that's a first...here, have a bagel, and calm down."
I grabbed said bagel and started eating it with fervor, as Nick just stood and watched, "Well," I demanded once I quickly finished the bread product, "Are you gonna come help Kurt unpack?" It was sort of a thing at Dalton, everyone helped everyone else set up their dormitory rooms.
"Oh, right, sure." He jumped up and followed me out to the tree lined front drive. The sunlight filtered through the leaves creating a dappled green path out to the street.
A car was down at the far gates, making its way up to the main mansion. It arrived with a loud crunching of gravel, and then stopped. Three people got out.
The first was Kurt, looking as gorgeous as ever in a navy coat with glistening buttons. A motherly woman came out from the driver's side, her auburn hair reflecting the morning rays. Lastly, a giant seemed to clamber out of the backseat (I swear he was like six feet taller than I am! He freaked me out, like a lot).
"Hi Blaine! And, um, Nick, right?"
"Good to see you."
"Yeah, nice seeing you again Kurt."
"Oh! Hi! And who are the two of you?" Carole (I'm assuming it's Carole...) asked with a kind tilt of her head.
"Blaine Anderson, pleased to meet you."
"I'm Nick, ma'am," We each shook her hand in turn.
"Nice to meet you both," she smiled, "I'm Kurt's step-mom Carole, and this is my son, Finn." The giant gave us a head nod and a crooked smile, he didn't seem like one for pleasantries, so Nick and I just returned his gesture.
Kurt gestured off in the relative direction of the office, "So um, I should go get my room assignment and schedule and stuff..."
"Oh, of course, I'll come with you, dear." Carole almost walked off before seeming to remember herself, "Um, I just sort of assumed...are you two hear to help Kurt set up? Burt couldn't miss work this morning so we could really use the help but-"
"Ma'am," Nick gave a silly bow, "We are at your service."
Carole chuckled before Kurt and she left off to the front office.
Great now we were left with the scary giant, at least I'm not alone though, Nick would save me. He had better save me.
"So, um..." I broke the pending awkward silence, "We could just unload everything onto the curb until they get back with the room assignment..."
"Uh, ok sure," Finn nodded over to the trunk.
He clicked the door open. Inside was a mass of boxes and suitcases, packed in up to the top like a house of cards.
"Wow...that's, that's a lot of stuff..." Nick trailed off, eyes bugging out like a lost goldfish.
"Yeah...apparently he only brought half of his closer..."
"Woah...that's a lot of clothes..."
"Maybe we could start getting out all of his clothes?" I suggested.
By the time we had everything laid out on the sidewalk, Kurt and Carole had returned with papers and keys in tow.
Nick hopped over to Kurt, "Who's your roommate then?"
"Um," he looked back down at a sheet of paperwork, "A Carver Hanson..."
I couldn't help but let out a little laugh.
This was going to be very entertaining.
Carver, while he was extremely caring, to the point of protection, and hilarious, he was the epitome of a straight guy.
He was about the size of Finn, he was messy, unorganized, reckless, obsessed with any and every sport, and was ALWAYS hitting on the ladies.
"Um...is there something wrong with Carver...?" Kurt was beginning to look concerned.
"No, not at all, he has been in like every single one of my English and History classes, he's a great guy, he is just...not exactly what one would consider as being neat..."
"Oh..."
"Yeah..."
"Well?" Finn interjected, "Are we gonna meet this Carver guy or not?"
All five of us somehow managed to juggle everything up to Kurt's room, I stopped by to let Carver know he was here.
I knocked on the antique looking door, "Oh, hey Blaine! Is that new roommate guy here? They told me he was coming this morning, I actually got dressed and stuff for him..."
"Yeah, we just got his suitcases in."
"Ok! Cool! I'll be over there in a minute!"
Back in Kurt's room everyone was just kind of standing there staring at the Everest of boxes and bags.
"So is there anything I should do?"
"No, Finn, you'll just drop all my stuff and I do NOT trust you with my closet."
"So can I hang up stuff or put the bedding on or something?"
"No! Not the bedding! You'll get it wrinkled!"
Wow, they had been brothers for about a week, and they were already arguing like normal siblings.
"How about I do the bedding." Carole interjected calmly.
"Ok...yeah..."
The door to the suite bathroom flashed open, Carver froze all the chaos.
"Hi! I'm Carver! Which one of you is Kurt?" He was looking between Finn and Kurt trying to decide which hand to shake.
"Hi, I'm Kurt." He got his hand pumped very enthusiastically. Another long round of introductions were made.
"So is there anything I can-oh...wow...that's a lot of clothes...are you like gay or something? That was rude, sorry, but seriously, I don't have a problem with it if you are. I mean Blaine's gay and he's cool and there are like fifteen other gay guys in the school and stuff. Sorry I am just gonna like shut up now..."
"Um...yeah...I'm gay..."
"Oh! Awesome!" Kurt didn't seem to be expecting that response, "You can help me with like what to give girls and what to wear on dates and stuff! This is gonna be great!" And that was Carver for you.
"Um...yeah, sure."
"So! What can I do?"
Kurt seemed to be remembering my comment about Carver's lack of organizational skills, "Um...why don't you and Finn just like carry any heavy stuff and bond or something..."
"Alright! Cool!" Carver gave Finn a hearty fist pump.
Kurt eventually gave in and let Nick and I help in the putting together of his room. I was in charge of setting up his desk while Nick, because he was taller, put everything up on Kurt's shelves and walls. Carole finished the bed and convinced a reluctant Kurt to let her set up the bathroom, while Kurt spent the whole time on his wardrobe. Finn and Carver eventually just ended up sitting out in the hall and discussing the manly topics of football and "hot chicks" it was like they had been beat friends for ages, not just met about an hour ago.
After an exhausting morning spent in a cramped room full of five people moving boxes, we were finally done.
Nick left first, having to go work on some group project, then Carole and Finn said their goodbyes to Kurt, promising to give Burt a hug from Kurt and to see him in two or three weeks, leaving Kurt a little dewey-eyed by the end.
And then there were three.
"Dude, you're brother is AWESOME!" Carver exclaimed punching the air.
"Thanks...?"
"Yeah! I bet you are gonna be like the coolest roommate ever! I'm gonna go get some lunch!" With that he spun out of the room, leaving both of us in a shocked and slightly overwhelmed silence.
In the quiet after the storm, Kurt seemed to deflate, the sudden lack of presence made the quite seem all the softer.
I cleared my throat, "So what does your schedule look like?" It turned out that we had English and Math together, he was also taking French, general Athletics (though he had it a different period), and until he could try out for the Warblers (I had texted him on Thursday to explain the "sad" situation about Anthony) he had Basic Art.
"I can't stand art! I can't paint, or draw, or anything! And I think it's boring to look at!"
"I like some arr..."
"Ugh...I don't, at least I won't have to suffer for long though."
"Yes, you should be able to try out sometime this week."
"Really?! I didn't think it would be THAT soon!"
"Well I mean, you need to learn all the songs and choreography and stuff..."
"Good point."
"Of course, if you would prefer more time in order to prepare, that is fine, too."
"No, this should be fine."
"You sure?" Kurt bobbed his head and smiled.
We spent about another half hour just talking, him on the shimmery maroon comforter on his bed, and I in the desk chair. His room was filled to the brim with pictures of his family and posters of musicals, they covered the walls like an old Dalmatian's spots. The space between the desk and closet was covered with a cream shag rug, and his desk was stashed with numerous amounts of school supplies.
"So tell me about your friends. I mean, I've met all of them, but I don't really KNOW them."
"Hm...ok. Well, Let's see, Thad is-he's ridiculous. He cheated on the Dalton entrance exam, which pretty much says it all, and he has had like twenty girlfriends in the past three months.
Trent in short is the nicest person you will ever meet, seriously, like EVER meet.
David, he can be mature when needed, you saw him in one of his better moments that first time, but mostly he is just like a five-year-old on a sugar high.
Jeff is amazing. He is always calm, really down-to-earth. He also likes to sleep, a lot.
Nick always does what he says, never procrastinates, and can be bubbly even at six in the morning.
Wes, Wes is-I don't even know. He is a genius. He always tries to be professional. We tease him about it, but he is so good natured. He has a sweet side hidden behind an imposing exterior. I believe that behind all his seriousness he is just a ball of fluff."
"I'm sure Wes would appreciate that last description..."
"It's TRUE!" I retorted.
"They sound great..."
"They are, they really are."
•••
Whenever I saw him, my whole body seemed to constrict, all my emotions boiling over, over, over, until I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing or screaming or both. It was an adrenaline I had never experienced. Like an electrified boa, a friendly boa, not the devilish kind that rested in nightmares, was wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, trying to clench away the adrenaline instead of it pouring out in a crash of feeling.
It was too early to count as love, too new. Liking has to come before love, and we had only just met in liking.
To be honest, part of the reason I couldn't approach him was because of my own trepidation, my own tempest. There were too many invisible variables, things that could snap at any second.
And yet, nothing had happened in a while had it?
It was all too big, something I wasn't stable enough to consider. For now I would stay in the realm of fierce infatuation. Dreaming in hopes instead of realities.
•••
All of us blended in the great navy and red mosaic of Dalton, we waited for the Council to stop whispering amongst themselves and actually inform us about the situation.
Wes "officially" began the discussion with an unnecessary hit of his gavel, "Alright, today we will be voting on the possible entrance of a new Warbler. If we were to follow tradition, this new spot would only be available to a senior. But, at the request of Warbler Blaine, we are considering letting a Junior transfer student try out. Is anyone against this motion?"
The room was quiet, everyone watching the others, wondering if the code of tradition should be broken, and if we could let Kurt in.
Finally Mao found a sense of reason, "Um...before we decide this Kurt guy's fate, or whatever, shouldn't we actually hear him sing? It would probably be pretty smart. I mean we are having to make up for Anthony, so we need a really strong tenor. If he could successfully hold the position then I don't see why he shouldn't join. But, he needs to actually be heard before any of that can be determined."
The room broke out in harmonies of agreement (Yes! They were giving Kurt a chance!).
Another loud tap, "Alright, it seems that the majority of the choir wants to hear the candidate's audition before they vote, in that case, we will proceed with the usual audition protocol.
I was going to hear Kurt sing!
To be honest, I don't think I had been this energized about anything in a long time.
I just hoped that the conglomeration would appreciate his countertenor, I knew that we needed a tenor, tenor, but I hoped that this would work out.
To the general population, a countertenor was viewed as weird, unnatural, I hoped that the choir wouldn't agree. But then again, who was I kidding? If someone was going to be different, Dalton was the place to be.
As I waited for the great doors to be opened, I thought back to my own audition.
I was petrified, before that I hadn't really committed myself to anything at Dalton. I walked around in a haze, turning down the numerous kind offers because I couldn't trust that they were real. I stood in front of the 26 boys (I tried out at semester when two freshmen dropped out because of scheduling) and just stared and shook. I had never sung in front of anyone before, saving my voice for the solitude of my bedroom. I sang Tonight, from West Side Story, my voice vibrated in a nervous and uncontrollable vibrato, I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from shaking over in a faint.
And still they took me, I guess they saw the real voice inside of me, the one at that point I didn't even know I possessed. I don't know what I would have done if they hadn't seen inside of me.
The double doors were opened. Kurt stood there like a pale seraph, a seraph sent down from heaven to stop my fears.
He was pressed and shined in his uniform. He hated it, told me on many occasions, but god, he looked so handsome. It made him stand tall, strong, firm,
Endearing.
His light lilt caressed itself through the open room, "Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel," he glanced around, if you watched closely you could see his carefully cut demeanor falter slightly, "I'll be singing Adele's Someone like you."
Adele?
Woah, not expecting that. I expected a broadway ballad or something high and soft, not a wrenching love song.
The music slowly built in the background, and then he was singing.
It was glorious.
His voice carried the high notes with wonder, ending them like Adele with a rough shwa. I watched him with unhindered awe, his face relaxed, upturned as if soaking in sunlight and stars. His voice was sapphires and sandpaper, a whimsical sound that could never be matched.
I had never heard anything more beautiful.
He finished all to quickly for my liking, ducking his head in a bashful smile. The room stayed quiet, only shocked breaths to break the silence. Until there wasn't, it came suddenly, like a earthquake, ceaseless applause, wonder-thrown faces.
Wes composed himself, sort of anyways, ever the appreciator for great music, he had a nonsensical grin pasted across his face, "I-," he laughed breathily, "That was-I mean, the Warblers haven't had a countertenor in YEARS! Um...but ok so, we will give you a notice with the outcome, thank you for auditioning." Wes straightened his tie and looked down at the papers in front of him, a silly attempt at trying to hide his smile. The Head Warbler couldn't be found looking biased after all.
Kurt left with a click of the doors. Wes continued, "Alright, now for the voting...All in favor of allowing Junior Kurt Hummel to become a Warbler." Everyone raised their hand, everyone. Wes broke out into an unabashed grin, and banged his gavel once, "Kurt Hummel will begin as a Warbler Monday. Until he receives his notice, nothing will be said. Anyone caught breaking that rule will receive a Warbler demerit."
He was in.
My whole life seemed to be taking constant spins for the better.
David stepped in to add an announcement before we began working out chords in Titanium, "As you are all aware, Saturday is halloween. Dalton will be holding it's annual Halloween party and dance along with Crawford Country Day in our Dance hall," yes Dalton has a dance hall, it's magnificent, "Saturday evening. The Warblers will be performing Hey, Soul Sister, seeing as that is our only song that has all the harmonies worked out. Because of this, either Blaine or Geovanni must attend. Also, because of an unfortunate event last year," David smirked while Wes turned beet with outrage, "All Warbler members are banned from wearing costumes, "The sophomore Warblers looking sheepish, sinking down into their various seats. Last year all of them decided to show up as swimsuit models, it didn't go over very well with the school principal.
•••
I found Kurt later that day.
"Hey," my voice was breathy from having to run after him down the was, "Today was-it was amazing."
"Really? You think so?"he sounded disbelieving, I wanted to tell him the YES he was breathtaking and that he made it, but I couldn't. I already had one demerit from missing practice, three and I would be on Warbler probation, meaning I couldn't compete in the nearest competition.
"Yes, I know so. Your voice is amazing."
He looked like he was about to make some self-deprecating comment, I stopped him," don't try and demy it, you were fantastic."
"Thanks."
We walked side by side, both of us gripping our satchel straps, steeling pink glances at each other, as we made our way down to dinner.
•••
They say that if you throw a pebble up too high, it'll come straight back down onto your head. Well for the longest time, I couldn't even get my pebble above the unrelenting pull of gravity. But, when I finally did get it up to oxygen, I threw it so high, that when it came back down, it hit like a rusty brick.
It was friday evening, I had just finished chatting with the Junior Warblers and Kurt in the commons about the party the next day. All the straight boys were excited about the prospect of girls (Crawford Country Day and Dalton often shared events like this, both school boards agreeing on "the need to learn and respect the other gender for a future in successful courtship". To the Dalton boys it was simply the easy way to get an adoring girlfriend). Being tired, I tromped down to my room, sinking down into bed only to be jolted back up by my phone ringing.
"Blaine," my father's voice cracked over the line like frozen sandstones rubbed together, "You need to come home, now."
It all came rushing back to me in a gush of steaming air, I didn't know whether to be sick or faint, maybe both.
Three weeks ago the school called my house. I never deleted the message.
How could I forget?
Oh my god. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.
Panic flared like burning gasoline.
How could I forget?
Oh right, because I met a boy who has my new heart shackled to his wrist. And he doesn't even know it.
I let the late autumn winds freeze my molecules as I began my death-march packing. Taking things that wouldn't flash, that wouldn't be noticed. Things like a simple dress shirt and slacks. No patterns, no ties.
It was an upside down planet when school held my comfort and home held the blistering formalities.
I changed into a starched, bleached white shirt, crisply pressed raven pants. I could see my face losing color in the mirror, my eyes beginning to look deranged in the way a lost dog's would. I was sweating, begging for numbness to set in, I kicked of my dress shoes and stuffed my socks in them, picking them up and running out the door. The world was lurching dangerously, my breaths verging on hyperventilation, my heart beating too fast with the wrong kind of adrenaline.
I searched insanely through the hall trying to spot out any Warbler, I found Maurice first, "Maurice-"
"Hi Blaine-oh my god! Are you ok? Should I call a nurse? What-"
"No-look-I'm...I'm fine...tell Wes that Geo is going to have to take my place at the dance alright?"
"Ok, but Blaine-"
"No, sorry, just tell him ok?"
"Ok..." I saw him biting his lip in concern as I tore away.
In the car I was sweating unhealthily, my hands quaking. I felt like my stomach had been braided with copper threads. Feverish, heated, unhinged, I rolled down all the windows, letting the frosty flurries bury their noses into my hands and face.
I shouldn't driving like this, I could break any second. It was like driving intoxicated, only intoxicated with fear.
I had to make it to Columbus before I was sucked into that deep black hole. Before the world went dark and I went with it.
•••
Twice I stopped the car, just to breath. I managed to make it home without dying. Have you ever tried driving when you felt like you were suffocating? Drowning? Walking into your own grave?
Don't.
It looks shockingly like Dalton, only with lighter brick, and four stories instead of three. One would think that I would find comfort in it, I only found that it contributed to the darkened madness.
I parked in the circle drive, resting my head on the wheel.
Breathe.
I couldn't keep my father waiting, I quaked out of the car, disoriented, sick. Grabbing my meager belongings, I marched up the hill, back tall, shoulders straight, head on point. I rang the bell before unlocking the door, they wanted warning. I wanted to run away and hide.
My pack was set at the base of the stairs, my feet burned in the slick shoes.
"You're here."
My back jerked straight, feet together, I stood at rapt attention, trying with everything I possessed not to tremble now, "Y-yes Sir."
"Look at me when I talk to you." His voice was eerie, it was seething with hatred, yet coldly monotone.
I focused my eyes, looking, but trying not to see, "Yessir," I whispered in dread.
"Your mother has a headache, don't disturb her." It was a warning, no matter what comes next, act put together.
"Yessir."
I hadn't moved from the entryway, he blocked my path out. I was barely in the house, yet already cornered.
"I got a call from school. You skipped class. Why? Don't make up a stupid excuse." Still no emotion.
My voice came out quiet, sickeningly resigned, "I don't have a reason that is acceptable."
"That's what I thought. You are useless."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"The only reason you are still my son is because if you weren't, it would cause a scandal. I can't afford scandal. Don't ruin my reputation."
That's what everything in our family was about.
Reputation.
If the whole world knew I was gay, it would ruin his reputation.
If I got bad marks, it could affect his reputation.
If I strayed a centimeter over the line, messed up even once, I could ruin his reputation.
"I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again."
My phone had to ring.
"Who is that?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Tell me."
"I don't know, sir!"
He yanked my bag off the stairs and threw it to the ground. Ripping open the zipper and pouring out it's contents until he found the beeping device.
"It's from a boy, asking if you are ok."
"I-"
"Who is Wes?"
"He-he's a boy at school."
"Why does he care?"
Why shouldn't he?
"I don't know, sir."
"You're giving out your number to boys? I didn't send you to Dalton to harbor improper thoughts. I thought it might help cure you with their influence."
"He's not gay."
"But you still are? And now you are preying on other boys?"
"No sir." I was slowly sinking in on myself, breaths came shorter, hands vibrated faster.
"Then why does he have your number?"
"He's a friend." Wrong answer, wrong answer.
My father's face twisted in rage, "A friend?"
"Yessir."
Then it came, like a star's death. It seemed so far, yet was unbelievably close.
It hit me across the face, spinning my head lopsided. I stayed like that, looking down, waiting for the slap that would pin it the other way.
At least there wouldn't be many. Many hits at least, worse things would come, but one like me had to take life in stumbles, not strides.
"You will have no friends. You deserve no friends. Until you are a man yourself, you will not associate with men."
"I am still a man."
"No. You are gay."
I had listened to this so many times, it shouldn't sting anymore, but god it did.
"I'm sorry that I can't be who you wish."
"Look at you. You are disgusting, an abomination on the world. People like you shouldn't be allowed to breath, the more you do the sicker we all are likely to become. Someday this is going to affect my position in society, and when it does, you are going to wish that you never came into this world."
When I am around you I already do. I can't control being born, I can't control being gay, but I also can't control my father. So I stood there and took the abuse, took the next slap, the one that pooled blood in my mouth, a flash-flood of life dripping down between my teeth.
I took it when I had my shirt ripped off, my arms spread out straight like a T.
I took it when he unlatched his belt and whipped me. Over and over and over.
Whipped me like a master used to whip his slave.
Hit me until the blood vessels burst, until the valentine-colored welts would become thick scars to join my other brands.
I took it when he told me that I deserved to die. That I was a thing, not a person. That every right I had was undeserved.
When my arms gave out and my legs threatened to fall off like a lepers, my father pinned me to the unwavering floor and hit my legs. The leather made a sound like a devils scream as it cracked down, gnawing it's way deeper into the flesh.
I felt the heat pool out of me as blood. Life slowly graying, threatening to leave me.
And then he was off.
On the brink of harrowing consciousness, he handed me a towel, telling me that if one drop of blood was left by the time I left, that I would be coming back here the next weekend.
My mind left me as I lay sprawled on the entryway floor, spread out like an old doll who had had it's cotton torn out.