Chapter 10

'Josh is suspecting something,' Blaine said quietly.

The rattle of rain on the roof of the shed almost drowned the words. They'd been sitting there for a half hour barely talking at all and listening to the raging storm outside.

'What is he suspecting?,' Kurt asked, his voice choked up by the lump that appeared in his throat out of nowhere.

'I don't know exactly. He's been asking about our friendship and all that, and-' His eyes flickered nervously up to Kurt's.

'And?'

Blaine bit his lip and dug his fingernails into the flesh of his palms. It hurt.

'He said he doesn't want people to think I'm a sodomite.'

Horror struck Kurt the second the full meaning of it sank in. If Josh's suspicions got any worse, or if somebody else started saying things like that, in the worst case scenario the two of them had maybe a couple of days left. Because what if someone did figure it out? Whether it was Josh or anybody else, it didn't really matter much.

'What are you gonna do?,' Kurt asked. 'If he tells anyone...'

His voice broke and he buried his face in his hands hopelessly.

'You know Josh, people won't listen to him,' Blaine calmed him. 'They know he's a jerk. Remember when he said one of the Yodel girls gave birth to a kid on her Rumspringa? It was all nonsense, nobody's gonna believe him.'

Kurt eyed him sceptically.

'Nobody bought it, 'cause Kathy Yodel's a freaking prude and it was utter bullshit. But if he tried to convince people I'm gay, they'd probably have less problem believing it.' Blaine stayed quiet, unable to counter his argument convincingly. A flash of panic crossed Kurt's eyes. 'Do you think we should stop this? Seeing each other?'

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, shaking his head vigorously.

'No, if we stopped seeing each other now, we would be handing Josh proof on a silver platter.'

'What are we gonna do, then?'

'Keep a little more distance when we're in public? What else can we do?'

They exchanged a sad look and Kurt sighed.

'Nothing. Keeping distance it is. But just in public, right?'

A mischievous spark danced in his eyes as he pulled Blaine closer.

'Yeah, just in public,' Blaine agreed.

It felt safe to hold each other in the cramped shed, cut off from the world by its walls and the streams of rain pouring from the sky. They felt like no one could ever find them, like no one could ever discover their secret and take their happiness away from them. But such moments were as wonderful as they were fleeting. This time at least they had the excuse of the thunderstorm to stay inside.

They lay down on the blanket-covered floor, Kurt watching Blaine with unceasing amazement. From time to time, a lightning would cross the sky, illuminating the dim inside of the shed for split seconds through a tiny window just below the roof. The light gave Blaine some kind of strange, unearthly quality.

'I really don't wanna lose you,' Kurt said unexpectedly.

'I know. I don't want that either.'

Kurt shifted to his back with a sigh.

'But you can't promise me that I won't.'

'You have to understand this is tougher for me than it is for you,' Blaine pleaded.

'Because you were born to Amish parents? But I thought you didn't feel like you belonged.'

'I don't. But to the family, not the congregation.'

Sitting up abruptly, Kurt scoffed.

'You're the bishop's son, isn't that like one and the same?'

'Not exactly. I mean- the congregation is something else. It's like a support system. They give you things to believe in and lift your spirits up.'

'By shunning and kicking you out if they ever know the truth?'

'Then you see my problem. I could leave my family for you, but my faith- I don't know if I can abandon it for- earthly happiness.'

'You deserve to be happy, Blaine,' Kurt said quietly. 'And good merciful God shouldn't be keeping you from that.'

'But my whole life I was taught differently,' Blaine chuckled bitterly. 'And I don't know what to believe anymore – what I've believed all these years, or what my brain is trying to tell me now?'

Kurt turned around to read his expression; it was one of helplessness and confusion.

'And if you believed what your brain is telling you, what would you do?'

'I'd get out of here with you.' There was not a hint of hesitation in his voice. 'But I don't want to stop believing everything they've ever taught me. I want to keep believing there's a heaven I can get into if I'm a good person.'

'You are a good person, Blaine. And I can bet that if they have that club up there, when you arrive at that gate in the clouds, you're gonna have a place waiting for you.'

There was nothing Blaine wanted to believe more than this.

'Do you think I could get there if I left with you?'

Kurt shrugged.

'I'm no minister, but I'm pretty sure that guy up there wouldn't have made us the way we are if he didn't have a good reason. Assuming he's there at all.'

'And you honestly think we were born like this? Liking boys instead of girls?'

'How else could you explain it? There is no other explanation, it just happens. It's nobody's fault and nobody's sin. More like proof that if that old bearded guy exists, he has a very strange sense of humour.'

Blaine sat up next to Kurt, resting his head on the other boy's shoulder. It felt more comforting than anything else.

'I'd rather believe God is good, you know? Good incarnated. I hope he's not some bitter guy that would let his children suffer.'

'Maybe he's not like that,' Kurt said, musing. 'Maybe he's pissed what people made out of the things he was trying to tell them. Sometimes I feel like all those "good Christians",' he lifted his hands to show air quotes, 'don't remember Christ's most important lesson. "Love thy neighbour" and all that. No, all they can do is hate and judge, and throw the first stone. Without turning the other cheek, without love or atonement. They think they live closer to God by not driving cars or not using electricity, but how can they live close to what is supposed to be pure goodness if they can kick someone out of their lives for choosing something else? Not anything wrong, just different?'

His question hung in the air, unanswered and heavy in the silence. Blaine wanted to protest, to find arguments to the contrary, but in searching his memory, he found that in many respects, Kurt was undeniably right.

'I thought you didn't believe in God and you make a better case for the true foundation of Christianity than most Amish ministers. My father included.'

'I don't believe in God. I never really have, probably never will.' Kurt shrugged, turning his face to his boyfriend. 'But it doesn't mean that I find the whole concept of Christianity stupid or ridiculous. Sure, I don't think corpses can come back to life or whatever, but I do think that we should have as much acceptance for other people as for ourselves, and wish them as well as we wish ourselves. Isn't that what it means to be a decent human being?

'It is,' Blaine agreed.

'See? It doesn't matter who you love, as long as you're fair to people.'

They froze for a second, both stunned by that one tiny word that at the same time was gigantic, much too big for the shed and their happy little bubble. It suddenly felt awkward to sit this close, to be looking back at each other, but they couldn't turn their eyes away.

'L-love?,' Blaine choked out finally.

'You know what I mean,' Kurt mumbled. 'Like- have a crush on- this sort of thing.'

'But you said love.' His voice was insistent. 'Do you- Do you think that what- what we have- that this is love?'

Blaine bit his lip, glancing at Kurt furtively, and letting his eyes escape every other second before turning back to his boyfriend again.

'What I think is much less important than what you think about this. If I asked you to name whatever you feel for me, what would you call it?' Kurt's voice quivered slightly.

'Love,' Blaine muttered, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of fibres on the blanket.

Kurt felt as if his chest was exploding from the unexpected profession of affection.

'Me too,' he said. 'I mean, if that's what you're trying to say, then I love you, too.'