Kurt scanned it quickly. “Yes. It’s been on the news for a while. Don’t worry about it.” He put the paper on a table in the hall and took Blaine’s hand, intending to lead him upstairs.

“Don’t worry about it?” Blaine dropped the other boy’s hand and grabbed the paper again, thrusting it at him. “Kurt, they’re trying to take away your rights. They can’t do that.”

Kurt looked away, brushing an imaginary stray hair behind his ear. “Yes, they can. They never wanted us to have them in the first place. All the people whom those laws are trying to protect us from, they’re the ones in control of them. There’s…there’s nothing I can do.”

“You can stand up to them, Kurt,” Blaine said, stepping closer and running a hand up and down Kurt’s forearm. “Call them out.”

“And say what?” He lifted his eyes to Blaine, suddenly filled with violent anger. “Tell them what we really are? Like they’d believe that. We’re not people to them, Blaine. We’re…I’m nothing. I’m just a thing to be fucked.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Blaine shook his head, a deep frown on his forehead. He pulled Kurt into his arms and although the boy was stiff, he let him. Blaine stroked the back of his head. “You’re not that at all, Kurt. You’re so much better than that.”

“Not to them,” Kurt whispered, curving into the other boy, arms tucked between their chests. “Look at me, Blaine. I hide in my house, I cross my fingers and toes and heartstrings that the world would treat me the way you do. I’m scared of them and it makes me feel sick. There are other faeries in the houses of those people, terrified out of their minds, and I can’t even bring myself to step out of my front door when there might be people around.” He sighed, resting his forehead against Blaine’s collarbone. “I disgust myself.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s not bad to keep yourself safe, Kurt.”

“I’m sheltered,” Kurt said. “I just feel like such a coward sometimes.”

“Stop it,” Blaine snapped, pulling Kurt away from him, gripping the tops of his arms. “Just stop. You’re not a coward. You’re not disgusting. They are. Look at what they’ve done to you – what they’re doing to you. It’s not your fault, Kurt. You were just born this way and you shouldn’t be used because of that. You shouldn’t have to be scared of what you are.”

“But I am,” Kurt whispered. He blinked back his tears, steadying his gaze on Blaine’s, regardless of how much he wanted to look away. “We all are. This bill will go through with no resistance; our rights will be taken away; we’ll become legal sex slaves. All because we’re just so fucking terrified.”

Blaine took in the dullness in Kurt’s eyes and the slumped set of his shoulders. He’d never seen Kurt like this. He didn’t know the boy could be despondent, hadn’t ever been able to imagine him giving up hope or hating parts of himself. He had always seen Kurt as accepting of everything about himself; good, bad and controversial. He wanted to shake the other boy out of it and bring him back to his normal self, but he had to find something else to do. Kurt needed to understand that he wasn’t at fault, but Blaine knew even he couldn’t fix that in a day. It was a lifetime of self-flagellation that had left Kurt like this.

Kurt’s eyes looked away, down to the floor.

“It’s very rare for a law to be repealed, especially federally,” Blaine said. “It’s only happened a few times. Who’s to say it will be different this time?”

“They won’t have the same scruples about this. We’re not people. They don’t even think we’re human. They won’t have to think about the effects too much.”

Blaine huffed in frustration. He held Kurt’s face in his hands, tilting it towards him, making the other boy look in the eyes. “Kurt, please, at least hope. I need you to hope with me.”

“Why should I?” His eyes were still deadened, not giving Blaine any emotion he could read.

“Because you have to. If you don’t, what’s the point? What’s the point of any of it? Why should you remind yourself that you’re human every day if you can’t even hope enough to fight for your right to be recognised as one?”

Kurt’s eyes had over-brimmed now and the tears were making silvery tracks down his cheeks. Blaine hated that tiny part of himself that thought the other boy looked beautiful like this. The situation was not right for that. Kurt drew in a breath, lips quivering. Blaine knew he had been harsh, but he could see something in Kurt’s eyes now; a slight defiance, albeit tinged with sorrow. “You’re right,” Kurt whispered, voice too broken with tears to sound properly. “God, you’re always right.”

“That’s not true,” Blaine said with a shake of his head, “but this time I believe I am. You think you’re hiding here, and maybe you are, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. You just need to have some faith that it’s not always going to be this way. You need to have some will to fight this even if it does no good, because it’s not just about you, Kurt. It’s not even just about faeries,” he said, pressing their foreheads together and squeezing his eyes tight shut. “There are the people that love you, too. There’s every faerie’s family, every faerie’s friends. There are all the people that have ever been connected to, even if they don’t know it. They should know because you shouldn’t have to hide it. There’s all of them, all of us. There’s me, Kurt, and I want you to stand up for yourself the way you’ve always proved you can.”

Blaine felt more than heard Kurt’s sob. It reverberated across the air between their lips, jarring into him. Kurt pulled him close, wrapping Blaine up in his arms, and kissed him, heedless of their tears.

Kurt stuffed his gloved hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, curving his shoulders inwards in an effort to retain more heat in the face of the still-bitter cold of Ohio. He knew shopping at lunchtime was risky, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop and reconsider. He was feeling more trapped than ever in his house now and with no-one to while away the hours with, he had abandoned his work and projects and set his mind on therapeutic grocery shopping. He had reasoned with himself as he laced his boots and buttoned his coat: it was mid-week, a time when barely anyone had the energy to shop; it was lunchtime, which was not exactly a time when people were keen to do bulk shopping. There wouldn’t be lines at the checkouts – something Kurt had only seen through his extreme consumption of media, never having had the chance to stand in one himself. It would be safe.

It was inevitable, really, what his thoughts would stray to as he walked. He thought of the small articles stowed a few pages back, the brief stories on the news. He remembered the way Blaine had looked at him that day, like he was utterly helpless. He could still hear Blaine’s words in his ears, telling him that he had to hope because, truly, what else was there to do? Blaine had seen into him, known how he would fade into himself, too afraid, too restricted to be anyone. Kurt told himself he was strong and totally accepting of who he was, but he was starting to see the cracks in that. He knew the rights that he deserved – of course he did – but he didn’t trust himself to stand up for them. He had started to accept that that was how it would be and prepared himself for a lifetime of even greater concealment.

The central heating of the store hit him as soon as he entered. He slipped his gloves off, stuffing them into a pocket with one hand as he grabbed a basket with the other. As he had suspected, there was barely anyone else around. He walked the aisles he had practically memorised, only seeing one or two people and never getting close enough to them to have to avoid touching them.

He caught it out of the corner of his eye: the flash of woollen tights and painfully vibrant colours. He turned his head instinctively, not quite hoping; not yet. His eyes settled on the back of a tiny teenage girl, her brown hair and garish clothes choices shockingly familiar. Kurt froze, hand in mid-air as he reached towards a shelf, staring at her.

Rachel.

He gasped, dropping his basket to the floor and running towards her. “Rachel,” he called, causing the girl to whip her head towards him. It was definitely her. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

He skidded to a stop in front of her, eyes roving up and down her body, unable to believe that it was her, that she was really here, in Lima, Ohio, standing right in front of him. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him. It was okay. He didn’t need to be heartbroken over her any more. The tiny girl continued to speak, frowning up at him, and Kurt was so shocked by her presence that he almost did not hear what she said. “I’m sorry,” she said, speaking deliberately, looking confused, “do you I know you?”

Kurt faltered. She didn’t know him. He loved her, but she had no idea who he was. She might remember something vague about his face, but she wouldn’t be able to give him a name. “I…I’m Kurt,” he said. “You – you sang to me and my boyfriend in New York. Well, sang at us, sort of.”

He watched Rachel’s eyes narrow as she considered him, then suddenly snap wide open, filled with an expression he could not understand. “I…” She took a shaky breath in. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong person. I really have no idea who you are.”

“But – your name is Rachel, isn’t it?”

“Yes – I mean, well, yes. But I’m not…I’m not the person you think I am.” She turned away from him, trying to walk away, but Kurt reached out. He almost didn’t because of years’ worth of habit avoiding physical contact, but he reminded himself that he’d already connected to her, that this would have no effect. So he grabbed her wrist, spinning her back to him. Even though Kurt was sure it was her, the lack of rushing, pounding sensation still shocked him. He could touch this girl. He could feel her skin under the palm of his hand and pressing against the pulse in his thumb and not have to start loving her all over again. He felt almost vindicated: he hadn’t just made this girl become her out of some form of desperation; this was truly someone he had touched before.

Rachel stared down at his hand on her skin, a shocked expression on her face. She suddenly wrenched her wrist from him, cradling it to her chest. She looked up at him, terrified, although Kurt could not figure out why.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to grab you. Just…don’t leave. I’m sure you’re the same girl and I really need to—”

“Don’t.” She raised her hands in front of her, warding him off. “No. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. I…” She looked around her, eyes dropping to the basket by her feet. “I have to go.” She left her shopping on the floor and, turning from the other faerie, she fled.

Kurt stared after, trying not to let his heart break again.