Deadlines were coming up, Blaine knew that, and while he wasn't generally the type to procrastinate like this...it had kind of become unavoidable this time. After trying for months to figure out what precisely it was he was searching for, what it was he wanted for himself, it came down to the same choice he'd had from the very beginning:

Yale, Columbia, or Stanford.

If it had just been about the schools, it would have been difficult enough. Yale was more prestigious, of course, and had numerous vocal groups Blaine would have jumped at the chance to be part of. Their a cappella choir culture made Dalton look positively backwater, with groups like the Duke's Men and the Whiffenpoofs recruiting singers like fraternities. Getting into the right group secured a new student status and friends instantly, and they were even more respected at Yale than the Warblers were at Dalton. That sounded perfect.

But of course it wasn't.

The photographs he had seen of Columbia's campus looked intriguing, like cramming the entire collegiate experience into six blocks in Manhattan like a tiny oasis...but it was near the center of everything. New York was the center of the universe, wasn't it? The culture, the food, the music - nothing that would exist in New Haven, he knew that much. With so many different types of people that he could slip under the radar and not stand out against the stark white old money types at Yale.

Stanford hadn't originally been a choice he could justify if the decision were made on school alone; he had applied only as an escape clause, a way to go as far from his parents as humanly possible so he wouldn't be obligated to return home for weekends and holidays. They were co-ed, there, too, which held a sense of mystery after four years at an all-boys' school. But there was something that felt exciting about Stanford itself, the way it had grown in the past 15 years or so - their sciences were getting all sorts of national attention. That wasn't something he thought he was interested in, but it was still impressive.

On educational and extracurricular opportunities alone, the decision would have been difficult but probably been Yale. While he wasn't sure precisely what he wanted to study, he knew it probably wasn't any type of science, and the appeal of Columbia had only ever been its location even though it was certainly a good school. It just wasn't the type of exceptional school that a Dalton boy was entitled to.

But it wasn't about academics. Not once it came down to these three. It was about so much more than that, so many more problems.

The question, Blaine concluded as he stared at the three acceptance letters and their accompanying letters of intent, was what he wanted in the broader sense. What life each school would bring him.

Yale was about becoming his father, which was the last thing he wanted. No choir in the world could make up for the stifling atmosphere, for the intense conformity - could he even be the kind of singer he wanted to be there? Would they let him just let loose like the Warblers did, let him pour his emotions out onstage until he had nothing left inside him? Or would they stand, stiff and stone-faced, while quietly harmonizing their way through lifeless standards and expect him to do the same? What would he become if he went there?

...Wouldn't he become that anyway? In all honesty?

Because as enticing as Columbia seemed, as much as he had been pumped full of bright and cheery facts about New York thanks to Kurt's neverending litany of reasons the city would be their safe haven, he still didn't know that he believed any of it. Had he ever, really? he wondered. Had he ever actually thought it might be the way Kurt said? Or had he just let himself like watching Kurt like the idea?

One day, not too far from now, he was going to have to grow up and start living in the real world. Away from the safe enclave of a liberal school, he was going to need to take his proper place in society as-...as some cog in a business, as a society man with a wife and well-groomed children who attended schools that let them stand out only to see them smashed back down as soon as they grew up, so the cycle could repeat itself again-

He wasn't sure which was worse: going through that, or knowing that he would have to watch everyone else go through it too.

Knowing Kurt would have to learn to go through it at some point, too. Because he could talk about New York all he wanted, but it was never going to be like Kurt thought and he had to learn that. He would either learn it now or once he was already there and struggling and miserable, but either way-

...either way, it didn't seem too likely.

And even if it was...did he and Kurt even want the same things? Did they even have the same vision of the future, even assuming he could let himself kind of believe in the utopia in art deco? Because if what Kurt wanted for them was the same thing his parents wanted for him only with himself in place of a girl...

Would he even be happy then? Would it honestly feel any better than the life he had been trying to find his way out of from the time he could remember? The life he was still fighting tooth and nail to reject even though its pull was so strong and there weren't any other options out there?

Maybe, he allowed himself to think. Maybe it would feel better with Kurt. Maybe it could be okay in New York even if what Kurt wanted was a lifetime of what he thought was deadness inside. After all, he didn't feel the same way with girls that he did with Kurt, not even Jean or Rachel or girls he actually halfway liked. He felt so much better with Kurt, even just sitting in the same room. He just had to look at the boy and he felt amazing and like he couldn't stop smiling - that wasn't like what his parents had, not in the least. He couldn't remember them ever taking enjoyment in one another the way he did with Kurt, and maybe-...maybe it was because his parents were just two people who were incapable of that. Or maybe his mother had been capable of it and his father successfully stifled it because he couldn't understand it, the same way he shut down and "cured" everything else he didn't understand.

But what if he was wrong? What if after everything, nothing was different? What if he was no different-

He didn't know what he wanted, but he did know what he didn't want.

Drawing in a deep breath, Blaine pulled the letter toward him, signed the notice of intent, and placed it in its envelope. He would send it out to be mailed first thing in the morning.

It was done.

* * * * *

Kurt wondered what it meant that he had gone all year and not even known that Dalton had a social hall. He always just thought the Commons sufficed for all things social, but apparently there it was - down past the library, near the faculty parking lot, not far from a great view of the water. As they approached, the sight of teenagers milling around outside was as sure an indicator of the evening's festivities as the faint strains of music pouring out into the spring night: Boys in nearly-identical tuxedos, girls in full-skirted dresses, a veritable vision of floral-coloured tulle and chiffon.

To his credit, Rachel didn't look half bad. He had talked her out of a hideous canary yellow dress with a lace overlay that anything but delicate and refined and had instead found her a lovely light pink one that managed to steer clear of her usual pitfalls. For one thing, she looked age-appropriate and - if he did say so himself, as someone who would never be physically attracted to her - quite beautiful.. And she hadn't even resisted him too much; maybe she was learning that if she just let him have his way when it came to her wardrobe, she would love the end result. Even Rachel could be trained, it seemed.

Mercedes, of course, had fought him over dress selection for days. In the end, he had spent all weekend on his bed sewing sequins onto her mermaid gown in shocking pink, because Mercedes claimed that the dress was already enough of a compromise without giving up her chance to sparkle.

She was even more excited than he was about being able to go, though he had gathered from their shopping conversations that she would rather being going with someone who wanted to go with her. Kurt could relate - he would much rather be going with Blaine, but even he wasn't crazy enough to suggest that.

It didn't stop a boy from wishing. From longing to be escorted in on Blaine's arm, casting looks across the hall at all the onlookers with a knowing smile because he and Blaine both knew they were the happiest, most in love, best-dressed couple in that room. From aching to dance with the boy in whose arms he wanted to stay all the time...even when they were fighting, which was more frequent now. It didn't matter. Once they got to New York, everything would be fine - it was all just the stress of everything starting to wear on them. It was hard to remain happy and optimistic about everything when it felt like the world was out to get them, which was why Kurt made it his job to ensure that he kept them focused on the future. On the day they would be safe and happy and able to be freely themselves in more places than just Blaine's bedroom.

For now, he would settle for their wearing matching flowers - light pink carnations that almost blended into Rachel's dress but complimented Mercedes' well enough. It hadn't been part of his plan for both of their dates to wear pink, but he had certainly been glad as he pinned on his boutonniere and watched Blaine do the same.

It was like the Warbler pins: no one else needed to know or notice, because they knew what it meant and that was enough.

Blaine looked amazing in his tuxedo, even more now than he had at his house. Something about the light, probably, and the heightened feeling of the evening. He looked sophisticated, ever the picture of a dapper leading man. Kurt had desperately wanted to get him into a white dinner jacket - like a younger and far more attractive Humphrey Bogart, he had pointed out - but Blaine insisted that would get far too much attention. Kurt thought he would look outstanding.

Though no one was going to steal focus from him, he knew.

Kurt stood proudly in his silver brocade dinner jacket, smiling as he saw the way the other boys looked at him. They were all wearing practically the same tuxedo - they finally had a chance to be out of that damned uniform, and they were still dressed alike. Where was the fun in that? What was the point of going out if you didn't get to actually wear anything remotely interesting? He knew from spending a year with these boys that they did, in fact, have personalities under those blazers, but one would never know it from this particular display.

Blaine had tried to talk him out of the jacket once he saw it. Said Kurt would stand out too much and that if the entire point of bringing the girls was to blend, then he probably shouldn't walk around in something that glittered that much. But there was no way he wasn't going to wear this, not after it had taken him so long to find silver braid he could hand-stitch to the side seams in place of the more traditional black grosgrain ribbon. Besides, he looked fantastic and felt even better.

"Where's Sam tonight?" Blaine asked as they scanned the hall. Most of the Warblers were easily found, and not just because about half of them had gathered in one corner together with a group of bored-looking girls as usual. Really, it was almost a shame he was leaving, Kurt thought, he would never have a chance to start his consulting business.

"He's not coming," Kurt replied.

"What? Why not?"

"He's working on some kind of project. When he told me he didn't have a date, I offered to find one for him - I certainly know my share of girls, and as the boys at this school go he's not half bad, if a little oblivious. His response was, and I quote, 'No thanks, I'm not that pathetic. No, seriously, I'm not that big of a nerd, am I? Now if you'll excuse me, these rockets aren't going to build themselves,'" Kurt relayed in a dry deadpan.

Blaine laughed. "It would be better if you had a Sam impression."

"Does Sam have a Sam impression?" Kurt wondered aloud. "And if he does, does it sound anything like him?"

"I have no idea. Probably. You should hear him do you, though," Blaine grinned.

Kurt's smile faded and his eyes grew wider. "Wait - he does an impression of me? What does he say? Is it-"

"No way," Mercedes butted in, holding up her hand. "I know you two are new at this, but Rachel and I? We're girls."

Blaine looked at her, brow lowered in confusion with a look on his face of pure bewilderment. "I...can tell that?"

"We have needs. Those girls over there?" Mercedes gestured to the Warblers' dates who were still standing around looking bored. "No way. Not for us."

"Mercedes is right," Rachel piped up. "If we're going to do this-" she said with an exaggerated wink that made Blaine look around nervously and made Kurt simply roll his eyes. He was oddly used to it by now. "-then you need to act the part. Which starts with dancing. Now come on - I love this song," she told Kurt as she took his hand and forcibly led him out onto the floor. Kurt sent Blaine a look pleading for help, and Blaine held his hands out palms up as if to ask 'what can I do? When a lady demands a dance...'

Dancing with Rachel wasn't so bad, Kurt concluded. He felt horribly awkward, but they had similar styles and faults - both were far more used to choreography and big production numbers than this type of dancing, so they really danced more like the upper-body half of a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers number...which looked more spastic when the feet weren't going fast enough to distract the viewer from the strange, occasionally-jerking upper-body movements. But he found himself grinning and laughing even as they looked ridiculous, half-falling into each other.

He glanced over and caught sight of Blaine dancing with Mercedes. He looked as skillful as Kurt had imagined, as though despite being used to dancing by himself while the rest of the Warblers step-touched behind him, he had a decent awareness of how his body moved and how to look cool while doing it. Or maybe he just had enough charisma to pull it off regardless, Kurt theorized. Blaine did have that effect on people a lot of the time.

As Blaine danced with Mercedes, spinning her and joking with her about something Kurt couldn't hear, he found himself getting jealous. He knew there was nothing there, he'd practically had to beg Blaine to go with her despite a lack of other acceptable options, they were just being nice to one another and Blaine had the ability to be almost instantly likable. He understood all of that and was under no misillusions that Mercedes was somehow going to move in on his boyfriend. That would be ridiculous.

But he wished he were dancing in her place.

He wanted Blaine to be able to spin him across the floor. He wanted to be able to wrap his arm around Blaine's shoulder and clasp his hand and dance there together...

He had wanted it for so long. Since Sectionals at the latest, and probably before then really.

After a few songs, the band changed to a slower number. As couples flocked to the dance floor, Rachel squeezed his hand. "We should go fix our hair," she stated. When Kurt reached up self-consciously, confused because he shouldn't have been doing enough dancing to throw it out of place, she smiled and shook her head. "Mercedes and I," she clarified, waving Mercedes over.

"Why-"

"Oh, don't worry - I'll be insisting on a slow dance later," she stated. "But we really are better on fast numbers." She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then she and Mercedes left the hall in search of a powder room. Kurt wondered if there even was a place for girls at this school - probably why they had an entirely separate hall for events where there might be girls present, he thought with a faint smirk.

He drifted toward the punch table, which was presently populated by boys who for some reason or another didn't have dates...and Blaine. He ladled two cups of the bright red drink and walked to stand beside his boyfriend.

Blaine couldn't stop staring at the dance floor. They looked so happy out there, all of them - even the girls who kept tiring of the boys who had invited them because they didn't know how to pay them proper attention looked like they were enjoying themselves. A genuine sort of happiness, too, not the forced smile he kept plastering on so no one would discover his secrets. Either that, or Nick and Jeff and Wes and David were much better actors than he would have expected. And why shouldn't they be happy? They were the type who could naturally be contented with whatever it was that was expected of them. Wes practically relished in it, with his obsession with rules and order. Why shouldn't they be happy dancing with girls at their formal? Why shouldn't they look like they were anxious to get out to their cars at the end of the night so they could pretend to drive their date home and go parking instead?

They didn't feel torn between who they were supposed to be, who they wanted to be, and who they actually were like this. They hadn't just needed to make a grueling choice between three possible futures, each of which would require closing the door on two other potential futures that might work out better. They didn't need to worry about any of this because they felt like they should be who they were, that they would become who they were meant to be, and that was all the more they needed to think about any of it.

A year ago, he could almost do the same. A year ago he had come alone, yes, but he hadn't felt nearly this wrecked watching the happy couples dancing. Wistful, sure, but all the boys on the sidelines during slow dances felt wistful as they were reminded of their loneliness. That was a perfectly normal response. Everyone knew they would eventually grow up and find a girl to take dancing, it was just a matter of when.

This year, though...

Kurt nudged his shoulder casually and held out a cup of punch. "Here," he said quietly with faint smile. Blaine took it, holding the etched tumbler in his hand as he kept looking out over the crowd. "That tastes...pink," Kurt stated. He was trying too hard to be cheerful, and they both knew it, trying to make everything feel like this was perfectly fine but it wasn't. It was awkward and lonely and infuriating because Blaine wished he could just...

...something.

He didn't even know what anymore.

Still he forced a smile, glancing down at the brightly-coloured elixir before gazing out at the dance floor again.

"Everyone looks really happy," Blaine offered.

"Assuming it's not a lie," Kurt replied, and when Blaine looked over at him sharply he explained, "You look that way around them, too. But I know better." When Blaine tried to shrug off the concern, Kurt continued, "I know you're not happy, and I understand - believe me, I wish we could-"

The girls reappeared through the crowd, and Blaine didn't think he'd ever been so happy to see someone in his life. "Hey, guys," he grinned as they got closer. The slow dance was winding down and the couples began to pull apart as the band started the next song. "Mercedes - may I have this dance?" he asked. He could feel Kurt shift uncomfortably beside him, but he ignored it and held out his hand to her.

Mercedes' eyes narrowed as she looked from him to Kurt and back again before taking his hand and replying, "Sure. You've got good moves for a white boy." He didn't bother to correct her, leading her out on the floor instead.

"What are you doing?" Kurt hissed after him, and Blaine turned to face him.

"Dancing with my date," he replied simply with a shrug.

You can dance
Every dance with the guy
Who gives you the eye
Let him hold you tight.

Blaine wished it were half as simple as the shrug made it seem like. It wasn't. It was frustrating - almost as frustrating as the fact that Kurt couldn't see why it wasn't easy. Almost as frustrating as Kurt's complete inability to see the reality of their situation.

Kurt had no idea about his unhappiness. He had no comprehension of the fourteen directions it felt like he was being pulled in and all the things he wanted to be but couldn't. Homosexuality was just the tip of a very large iceberg these days and Kurt thought it was the be-all and end-all. He thought it was as simple as just saying "There's always next year" and going from there, he didn't understand that there were other issues at play. He didn't understand that there were things he had to give up, that there were-...Kurt didn't understand that everything had a cost. He didn't appreciate that not everyone could believe in things just because he stated them as fact.

What scared him more was the idea that Kurt never would. He had tried explaining it so may times, had tried to show him why it wasn't nearly as black-and-white as he tried to make it. It wasn't as simple as shouting "I am who I am and there is nothing wrong with me" from the rooftops and having that suffice.

You can smile
Every smile for the man
Who held your hand
'Neath the pale moonlight.

"Come on, then," Rachel said, grabbing Kurt's hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, you're not just going to let your friend-" A knowing smile this time instead of a wink; maybe her eye was getting tired or developing a permanent twitch. He was almost afraid to ask. "-go dance out there without you, are you?"

"Rachel, he's not going to-"

"The surest way to get a man's attention," she stated with a voice that conveyed the utmost authority "is to make him jealous."

"Rachel, you tried that last year. Finn still didn't break up with Quinn."

"Yes, but they're not actually dating," she pointed out. "Even though they do make a nice couple when they dance because she's just a little shorter than he is with the heels. You and I would have been better last year, before you grew."

He gave her a deadpan look and bit back every sarcastic comment he could think of, then led her by the hand out onto the dance floor - strategically in view of Blaine and Mercedes. After all, if he had felt jealous seeing the two of them dancing earlier (and was a little more jealous now), maybe it would be true in reverse. With a pointed look, he pulled Rachel into position-

"Wrong way" she pointed out, sliding his hand from her shoulder down to her waist. He knew that, he had been dancing for years, he just wasn't used to envisioning himself in a leading role.

But don't forget who's taking you home
And in whose arms you're gonna be
So darlin', save the last dance for me.

Blaine found himself irrationally angry at Kurt's self-satisfied, almost smug look as he took the dance floor with Rachel. The boy looked as though he were trying to prove a point, and not only did he not know what that point was, but he didn't care. It felt like the worse things got, the more determined Kurt was to be right.

Kurt had no idea what it was like to be him. Kurt had figured out who he was relatively easily just by reading it i a book, he hadn't spent his entire life being told he was wrong - not just wrong, sick. Horribly, disgustingly twisted and a threat to every good and moral person in society. Kurt could act as though this was all about him, their not being able to dance, but he didn't have the first clue what it was like for him.

Kurt didn't flinch every time someone called his name these days, he didn't sit there and wait for his father to show up with a brigade of trained medical professionals to cart him away to have electrodes placed on him or needles shoved into his brain to try to cure him of this thing that Kurt thought was no big deal. He didn't wait for his entire future to come crashing down around him as he was relegated to a home for the chronically, criminally, incurably insane.

No amount of "I'm not wrong" was going to protect Kurt from that fate. Blaine was the only thing that could, and now...

He didn't know if his father had figured it out yet or not, but he knew it had to be only a matter of time.

What he had said had been incredibly stupid and impulsive, and the boy he had done it to protect had absolutely no idea the danger he had been in in the first place.

Oh I know (Oh I know)
That the music's fine
Like sparkling wine
Go and have your fun.
Laugh and sing,
But while we're apart
Don't give your heart
To anyone.
But don't forget who's taking you home
And in whose arms you're gonna be
So darlin', save the last dance for me.

What started as smugness dissipated almost as soon as they were on the dance floor. Kurt didn't want to win the argument, he didn't want to make Blaine jealous of Rachel (or, worse yet, jealous of him for dancing with Rachel, who was kind of an aggressive lead for a girl in a really frustrating way, and he wondered if Blaine knew that).

What he wanted was to just dance with the boy he loved. He wanted to dance with Blaine, to feel his broad hand cradling the small of his back and Blaine's bicep under his hand while their fingers intertwined. He wanted to look just slightly down at his dance partner instead of all the way down to Rachel - why hadn't he put her in taller heels again? He wanted to feel Blaine whisk him effortlessly across the floor instead of Rachel dragging him from point A to point B like this was a choreographed number and he was behind the count.

He wanted to be able to be like everyone else, dancing with the person they were dating. He wanted what everyone else had, only with Blaine.

Baby don't you know I love you so?
Can't you feel it when we touch?
I will never, never let you go
I love you oh so much.

Kurt gazed over at Blaine longingly, hoping to catch his eye.and share a moment - however small, however many people between them. He wanted to be able to feel for just a second like they were connected even though they couldn't have any of this.

When Blaine's line of sight finally fell on him, he saw only anger. Frustration. Contempt of all things.

Blaine was mad at him? Blaine was frustrated with him? Blaine was the one parading his rent-a-date (he would apologize to Mercedes later for thinking of her in those terms later) around the floor to proclaim just how normal he was. Blaine was the one practically ignoring him when they weren't dancing. And yet Blaine was the one who was frustrated?

Hell no.

Two could play that game.

His own gaze settling into a glare, he spun Rachel sharply away from Blaine and kept dancing.

You can dance
Go and carry on
Til the night is gone
and it's time to go
If he asks
If you're all alone
Can he take you home
you must tell him no.
Cause don't forget who's taking you home
And in whose arms you're gonna be
So darlin', save the last dance for me

Now Kurt looked indignant that he was frustrated? Blaine wasn't going to -...no. Kurt, who was nowhere near realistic about anything, who had no concept of what happened to people like them out in the world, did not get to look angry at him like that. Gripping Mercedes tightly, he spun her quickly, rotating his way in a circle around Kurt and Rachel. Couples in their path cleared, if only for fear that momentum would work in Blaine's favour. He kept his eyes on Kurt's, coming back to them as his spot on every turn.

This was reality. This was what people like them did. Not whatever fantasy Kurt had about getting to dance together in front of everyone - he probably thought they could kiss in public, too, he was that delusional. It would be nice, sure, but it was never going to be like that and the longer he protected Kurt from the ice cold facts-

Kurt didn't know the depth of his father's treatment methods because Blaine let him stay ignorant. He didn't know the horror stories because Blaine didn't want to tell him. He didn't want to destroy Kurt's innocence and sweetness and hope, but was he actually protecting him at all? Because if Kurt kept on like this, he would offend the wrong person soon and...and then who knew what would happen?

This was reality. Dancing in public with a girl, that was reality. That was what they had. Dancing together was only in Kurt's mind.

Kurt stared at Blaine, at the harshness in his eyes - the cruelty there- What had he done to deserve that? Was what he wanted really so horrible that he should get that glare for even wanting it? Swallowing hard, he pulled out of Rachel's grasp and darted out of the gym as quickly as he could.

He had no idea if anyone noticed, but he could guarantee Blaine knew and would hold him personally responsible.

What had happened to them? he wondered desperately as he hurried down the mostly-empty hallway. How had they gone from best friends in public and much, much more behind closed doors to feeling like Blaine constantly angry with him or blaming him for something? Had he misread something? Was it something he had done? Had someone said something that was shoving him back to the Blaine he had been in January?

He didn't expect Blaine to follow him, especially not after that display, and he stiffened when he heard the familiar voice call "Kurt, wait."

Kurt turned sharply on his well-polished heel. "What do you want?" he asked, voice tight with frustration.

"What is wrong with you?" Blaine asked. "You-" He glanced furtively at the girls near the other end of the hall and half-dragged Kurt into an alcove further from the restrooms. "You're the one who told me to bring her, you aren't allowed to get mad at me when I dance with her."

"As though you would have danced with me if I had asked? As though you would have brought me if I had said-"

"Are you kidding?" Blaine demanded, staring at him. "I-...Kurt, you know we-"

"We can't," Kurt replied icily, parroting what Blaine had been saying for months now. "I'm well aware."

"Then what do you want from me?" Blaine wanted to ask everyone that these days. What did they want from him? What did they honestly expect he could do to please every person at all times? What was he supposed to do? Just pick the parts he cared about and dump the rest? Just-...wasn't that what he had done when he picked a college? Wasn't picking the part that was most important to him supposed to make him feel better instead of worse? Wasn't he supposed to be able to just move on now that the choice was made?

But the look on Kurt's face was heartbreaking. "You know," he whispered with a quick glance back toward the gym...and Blaine did know.

A dance. That was what Kurt wanted from him. A dance, one damned-

"You don't think I wish we could?" he whispered back. "That we could be normal like that? You don't think I wish you were a girl sometimes so we could just-" He saw the stricken look on Kurt's face at that, and he shook his head. "I didn't mean it like-...We could be okay then."

"Blaine..." Kurt reached out and took his hand, and the fact that Blaine almost yanked it back sent up every red flag in the book. Blaine had never been shy about touching his hand in public. Never. He had taken his hand the first day they met for crying out loud, before Blaine even knew him or if he were trustworthy. People around or not, that had never been who they were and the fact that now Blaine was practically trying to hide from him, to shut him out- "Listen to me. We are okay. We are. There's nothing wrong with who we are, it's just their ignorance. And once we're in New York-"

Would he ever stop being so naive? Blaine wondered, and before he could stop it the words were tumbling out of his mouth. "It's not going to be like you say it is. Not that - there will never, ever be a time or a place where two boys can dance together to some Drifters song and have it be okay. Dancing-...that kind of dancing is strictly between a man and a woman, whether they love each other or not - it's not a romantic thing, it's- it's technical, and the only way you can adapt it to two men is if one of them isn't a man anymore. You can't just swap out two men for something and pretend it works just as well."

Kurt's gaze hardened into an angry glare the more Blaine spoke. "Yes, Blaine," he said in a quiet, sarcastic tone, "because that's been really persuasive when talking about anything else that applies to us. I'll be sure to remember that the next time we sing a song traditionally sung by a man and a woman - or the next time your hand is down my pants."

Being Blaine's dirty little secret was bad enough - feeling like Blaine was perpetually hiding him even if he never wanted to hide Blaine, but he could understand why Blaine thought that was necessary...but being his dirty little secret who was really just a substitute was almost more than he could handle right now. He turned and stormed down the hall toward the exit, not breaking into a run until he was met with the evening breeze and the smell of freshcut grass.

He couldn't go back in there. He had become a master at pretending he was fine when he wasn't, if only because he had spent so many years trying not to let his father worry about him, but some things even he couldn't fake. If he went back in there right now, every single person in the school would know that he and Blaine had had a fight, and they would want to know why. And while most of the boys would have no idea, some of the more clever ones might suspect.

He was almost tempted to go back for that reason. It would serve Blaine right, wouldn't it? All this time and treating him like he was some foolish schoolboy with an unrepentant crush, like their love for one another was something that could be turned on and off like a lightswitch - it would serve Blaine right.

...Only not really. Because if the entire point was that they both knew that they couldn't dance together, then his going back in there and making clear everyone knew his heart was breaking wasn't going to do anyone any good, now, was it?

He would have to go back eventually, if only because neither Rachel nor Mercedes knew where to find his dorm and they would be stopped by a faculty member before they got there anyway. But for right now, he needed a moment.

He unlocked his door and strode in, flopping back on the bed and closing his eyes. It wasn't until he heard a low "What happened to you?" that he even remembered Sam would be there. He jumped, letting out a startled squeak, and Sam laughed awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," Kurt replied breathlessly as he tried to calm his racing heart. "I forgot you were here. How's your, um. ...Rockets?" He sat up and carefully fixed his hair, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed with his legs delicately crossed.

"Good," Sam replied. "Still in the beginning stages, but by this summer..." His face lit up in a way Kurt hadn't really seen it except when he talked about comic books or those strange science fiction films. "I always loved this stuff, but I can finally do enough of the equations and the more complex math stuff. And it's the first summer I haven't had summer school to try and fix whatever I got wrong during the year."

"Congratulations," Kurt replied quietly. He was happy for Sam, he really was, but seeming happy when he was as miserable as he was required more energy than he had right now.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kurt tried, smoothing the bedspread to buy himself a moment before he attempted to force a smile.

"You and Blaine have a fight or something?"

Kurt froze. Sam couldn't know-...could he? He probably didn't mean that, he probably just meant did Kurt have a fight with his best friend, Blaine, because when people fought with their best friends they got upset, too. "Something like that."

"Give him flowers or something, that's what the other guys do. Does it work like that when you're both guys? Anyway, he'll get over it."

Kurt's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. No. Sam couldn't know- for one thing, Sam was oblivious, and for another Blaine would be furious with him if he found out that Sam knew even though he had never said so much as a word to the fake-blond about it. He had been incredibly careful and never said anything that could make Sam suspect- "H-how-" he managed to choke out.

Sam gave him a deadpan look. "When did you start thinking I was stupid, too?"

"What? No- I-I don't, but you-"

"Kinda obvious you like him."

Was it? Maybe, Kurt guessed, he did kind of have a hard time not smiling whenever Blaine was around...or being talked about...or just on his mind, to be entirely honest, but if Sam had noticed then how many other people had? "How long have you known?"

Sam thought a second. "October or something? I dunno. It's been awhile."

"Who else...?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't think anyone else knows. No one's said anything about it, anyway."

He sounded so matter-of-fact about it. So nonchalant. The polar opposite of the picture of fire and brimstone Blaine painted whenever the idea of people finding out was tentatively raised. "Why don't you care?" Kurt asked suddenly, then his eyes widened. "Are you-"

Sam coughed and it sounded for a moment like he was choking. "No. I'm not. I just...I dunno, I saw how you looked at him and you didn't look at me like that, so what did it matter?" Kurt couldn't even process that- Sam had known all this time and didn't think he was going to do any of the things that the books said he would do? For that matter, Sam who couldn't figure out anything when it came to girls or relationships somehow could tell what that adoring look was? What exactly-

"Besides," Sam added more quietly, "You were the only person who didn't think I was a complete freak. I wasn't gonna be a jerk to you."

Kurt didn't even know how to begin responding to that, and he wasn't given the chance to try; there was a knock at the door, followed by a hurried, "Kurt, please. We need to talk."

That Blaine hadn't even checked to make sure Sam wasn't in the room spoke volumes about how desperate Blaine was to talk to him. Even if he wanted nothing to do with his boyfriend right now, he supposed he should give him the courtesy of listening. He glanced over at Sam who simply nodded. "I'll be downstairs," he said as he grabbed his notebook.

Blaine knocked again impatiently, and Kurt called out a quiet, "One second." He drew in a deep breath, trying to steel himself for the fight he didn't want to keep having.

"It'll be fine," Sam assured him in what Kurt was sure had to be the oddest moment he had ever experienced. How would the heterosexual boy who had never had a girlfriend know that it would be okay with his boyfriend? But it was sweet of him to try, the sort of thing a friend would say.

He'd never really had a boy as his friend before. He had a boyfriend now, and a stepbrother who no longer despised him, but this was new.

"I'm sorry you're staying here next year," Kurt said quietly. "I'm glad you can," he added quickly, because he of all people understood how big of a victory that was for Sam, "but it would be nice having you around at McKinley."

"Sorry you're not staying here, either," Sam replied with a lopsided smile. He stood and headed for the door, but Kurt stopped him.

"Did you know about the drive-in?" he blurted out.

"What? Oh." Sam grinned sheepishly. "No idea. It's just the only place around here I know, and you asked about old movies and I'd seen fliers for them. I didn't have a clue until it got shut down." He opened the door and Blaine looked stricken.

"Hey, Sam, I was just looking for-" Blaine tried in a fake bright voice.

"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt assured him quietly, but Blaine didn't seem in the least reassured. Sam left and shut the door behind him, and Kurt turned to look up at Blaine with an expression that clearly said, 'Well? What did you want?'

"Is he-"

"It's fine," Kurt stated again with a quiet sigh. He didn't have the energy to deal with Blaine's paranoia right now, not after the night they had already had.

"Does he know about-"

"Do you ever stop looking over your shoulder?" Kurt asked in exasperation, and the look on Blaine's face stopped him. He seemed quiet, small, scared, almost fragile.

But mostly scared.

"No," he replied softly, looking Kurt directly in the eye. "I can't."

It was hard to stay mad at him when he said things like that, when he was open and honest about who he was and how he felt but didn't throw it out there like a weapon. When he looked so genuinely worried...and he had come here to talk, which he had only really ever done once before. Kurt drew in a deep breath and slid over a few feet on the bed to give Blaine more room to sit.

"I came to apologize," Blaine offered quietly, and Kurt looked at him quizzically because that was not the first sentence he'd been expecting.

"Oh?" he asked simply, not sure he trusted his voice to say anything else. As much as it was hard to still be mad at Blaine, a part of him was - a part of him was angry and indignant because the things Blaine had said shouldn't just go away because he was scared. It couldn't; they had done that before, and Kurt wasn't about to jump back into that.

"For what I said. And...and for not being able to just...give you what you want. It's not fair, and I know that, but-"

"But we can't," Kurt concluded quietly, because he did know that. He wasn't stupid. He knew they couldn't dance in a gym full of people, not in Ohio; it just didn't stop him from wanting it, and he wasn't going to deny it was what he wanted when Blaine asked. Or when anyone asked - that wasn't who he was.

But it was who Blaine was.

"I wish it could be different," Blaine said, his voice high and uncertain. "I wish so much could be different. But in front of our teachers and everyone who's responsible for our recommendations, in front of everyone like that-...we can't. I don't know how to be all the things people want me to be - them, and you and everyone else. I can't..."

"I know," Kurt replied, and Blaine nodded. But that wasn't what was bothering him. The fact that they couldn't dance made him angry, but not at Blaine. What really drove him crazy was- "You really wish I was a girl?"

Blaine looked up, startled by the question or maybe just by its bluntness. "Maybe," he allowed honestly. "Sometimes. I'm crazy about you, Kurt, and I want to be around you all the time and do all these things with you, but even if I know they're not actually wrong, if everyone else thinks that they are it doesn't do us any good. But if you were a girl..."

"We could dance in public and sing duets," Kurt replied dryly. It was like their duet at Christmas all over again, and where it had felt uncomfortable before it now felt almost insulting, even though he understood Blaine's reasons.

Blaine wanted so desperately to be normal. He wanted to be able to go through life being noticed for nothing but his talent - not his clothes, not his physical features, not his race, not his class, not his homosexuality - and anything that stood in the way of that was nothing but a problem.

"I suppose I should be flattered," Kurt said, trying to force himself to sound like he didn't care. He did care; he hated it. He hated it because it wasn't who he was, and it was falling back into the same trap of feeling like things were wrong with them even if Blaine said otherwise, and it was something that would never, ever change. He wasn't a girl, he had no desire to be one even if he did like dancing the girl part and singing songs by women. He was inverse but...not that inverse. "You could just pick a girl, but you pick me instead. So that's something, right?" Blaine's smile was narrow and vaguely sick, and it wasn't at all reassuring.

But they would be okay. Because Hiram desperately wanted to be normal, too, and he was practically the most unremarkable person Kurt had ever met - with his little average house and his glasses and his bald spot. Hiram was completely normal and led a normal life and had a lover who was beyond fabulous and completely accepting of himself...and they were happy. They just needed a place to be themselves and time to feel secure, and then that was all it would take. He and Blaine would be fine if they could just get somewhere safe.

If. Not when. If.

They would be fine if they got to New York. Right now, Kurt wasn't sure they would make it that long.

"Where are Rachel and Mercedes?" he asked quietly, trying to will himself not to cry. He couldn't. Not now. Not in front of Blaine when all he would want to do was cling to him. He couldn't - he wouldn't.

"Rachel found out Bill hates Rogers and Hammerstein. I don't think she'll be done berating him for awhile."

Kurt smiled faintly and barely covered a sniffle. "I should go - I need to drive them home, Lima's a long way-" He stood, in part so Blaine couldn't see his eyes slowly welling up because apparently no matter how much he told himself not to get weepy, he was going to anyway. It was just his nature, he thought wryly.

Blaine reached up and caught his hand. Kurt stared down at the fingers curled gently around his own, then slowly glanced up at Blaine's face. "You're coming back tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Come to my room after."

"Why?"

"I owe you a dance," Blaine said quietly.

It was a peace offering, and it was small, but after the night they'd had Kurt would take it. "Okay," he replied softly, but he couldn't smile too broadly as he said it and the tears were still threatening.

It wasn't what he wanted - it wasn't really what either of them wanted. It was a half-hearted compromise that left neither of them truly happy, but at least it was an effort and they could both appreciate it.

It was a stopgap, Kurt added to himself as he left his dorm and walked downstairs. Just for a few months. Stolen moments and private declarations for a few more months, and then they would be somewhere with people like Sam, and people like themselves, and everything would be okay.

...If they made it that long.