Chapter 3: Youve Got Mail

"The odd thing about this form of communication is that youre more likely to talk about nothing than something. But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings." - Kathleen Kelly, Youve Got Mail

Sometimes I look at the world around me and wonder why?

There are so many whys. Too many to even begin to list them.

I try not to be the kind of person who sits around and feels sorry for themselves, but everyone deserves a pity party once in a while. Like it says in The Crow, “It cant rain all the time.” It just happens to rain a lot for me lately.

Im trying to get past it, but its hard.

Try, thats another three letter word that plagues me. I try and I try and I try. Yodas wrong, theres a lot of try. Doing is succeeding and people dont always succeed. Im not saying Im failing, but Im not succeeding yet either.

Theres this boy. Hes trying, too. Only thing is, I think hes succeeding. Maybe not in everything, but he seems to be moving ahead while Im stuck here trying to even begin.

Hes trying with me, too.

Maybe we can try together.

~o0o~

Kurt dithered over his decision, nearly crumpling the paper in his nervous fingers. Why was this so hard? It was such a simple thing, yet it caused his heart to race and sweat to prickle across his skin. It left his breathing uneven and ragged.

Pacing toward the door, he almost turned back, almost stopped himself. With a quick, deep breath he lunged forward, slapping the sheet against the thick wood and bolted for his own room. He didnt look back to see if it had stayed in place or fluttered helplessly to the floor.

He couldnt.

~o0o~

Im sorry I screamed at you the note read in an untidy scrawl. The heavy black ink was pressed deep into the fibers, indenting the sheet as if the writer wished his words to be driven home emphatically. It had been left unsigned, but there was no doubt who had left the memo taped to Blaines door.

He took a moment to gaze at it – the raggedly torn edge, the slight crumpling, the bit of fuzz clinging to the tape. If the writing had been assertive, the note itself spoke of hesitance – hastily ripped free from whatever bound it, worried and fiddled with before finally finding its way to Blaines door. Two stories, one otherwise unremarkable piece of paper.

Shaking his head, Blaine smiled and made his way inside. He was probably reading too much into it, seeing things for what he thought they should be instead of what they were. Kurt had probably just written out the note in a hurry and rough-handedly stuck it up before Blaine returned.

Only, he couldnt fathom the boy hed watched meticulously place each belonging into a well cared for Marc Jacobs satchel doing anything in such a slapdash manner. There was purposeful intent there and Blaine was happy to have it directed at him.

Heaving a sigh, Blaine stuck the note to his pinboard and tossed his bag on the bed. Eventually he would have to retrieve it and begin his homework, but right now his brain was too full to even consider it.

After hed given his presentation, the rest of the boys orals had closely resembled a blur. When Kurts turn had come, the boy had gotten up and promptly handed his essay over to Ms. Chase before retaking his seat. A smattering of whispers had risen around the room, but died quickly under the teachers wrathful eye.

Blaine himself had been disappointed. He had wanted to hear Kurt speak, to hear what he had to say, to learn something about the mysterious Dalton Ghost – even if it was something silly and trivial like a desire for people to understand fashions place in society and how if they grokked that then they would ban Crocs for good. Anything really. Instead though, he had to resign himself to another time.

Glancing at the note again, Blaine thought that maybe that time wasnt so far off.

~o0o~

“And then he just handed the paper over to Ms. Chase and that was it,” Jeff was grousing when Blaine entered the dining hall later that evening. “How does he get away with things like that? If Id tried it, she would have had the ruler out so fast my head would be lying at my feet before you could say uncle.”

“Did you ever consider that speaking in front of the class might be traumatic for him?” Wes asked, prodding a green bean that had rolled too close to his roasted potatoes.

“Of course its traumatic! Its supposed to be, its an oral report!” The volume rose with each word until Jeff was almost shouting his discontent. “I mean, Banksy almost puked, but you didnt see Ms. Chase letting him just hand over his paper and go back to his seat. No siree, Bob!”

“Im sure there was a good reason,” Nick put in, ever the kinder of the two. It wasnt that Jeff was unkind, really, he just tended forget that the same rules didnt apply to everyone, that exceptions were made at Dalton for a reason.

“Whatever those reasons may be,” Wes interjected. “Its none of your business. And Id kindly remind you to remember that.”

“But-- Ow!”

Blaine almost snorted as Nick resorted once more to kicking Jeff under the table. Really, those two – if Jeff continued, he was sure to end up with black and blue shins for the rest of their association.

“I swear, Nicky, you kick me one more time and Im going to do something nasty to you in your sleep, mark my words,” Jeff threatened with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering unhappily at his best friend.

“And Im sure hell enjoy it,” Wes chimed in with one of his cunning smirks. “Does he enjoy being spanked? Or were you thinking of covering him in whipped cream?”

Nick blushed hotly, pink rising along his neck and ears, while Jeff looked almost apoplectic. He sputtered, fighting to find words to express his indignation. Blaine could almost see the rage pouring off of him.

“That is none of your--” Jeff froze then deflated. “Business,” he finished flatly. He toyed with the peas on his plate, frowning at them as if they were the trouble. “You sneaky son of a... I really hate you sometimes, Wesley,” he muttered bitterly.

“Only sometimes?” Wes chuckled, obviously counting a win. “Im glad you understand now. Whatever it is you two get up to, it is none of my business; just as whatever reasons Kurt has for his exemptions, are none of yours.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jeff acquiesced.

Blaine couldnt help but notice that neither boy denied such activities might occur.

~o0o~

The remainder of dinner was taken in silence and soon enough the boys parted ways.

“Wes, could I speak with you a minute?” Blaine requested as they came to Wes door. As a prefect, the older boys room was stationed near the entrance to the hall – a gatekeeper of sorts for the residents within. When Wes indicated they step inside, Blaine shook his head. “Ive something to show you. Its in my room.”

They quickly made their way down the hall, Blaine glancing across and down at 22B before ushering Wes inside.

“I found this taped to my door this afternoon,” he said, taking the ragged note down and handing it to Wes. Blaines body was thrumming with an odd energy. Even if it was nothing more than an apology, it was communication. Voluntary communication.

Wes dark eyes lit with shock, gleaming with inner intensity. “Kurt?” he asked, nearly crushing the note before Blaine snatched it back and smoothed it out.

“Well, no one else has yelled at me recently,” he shrugged watching Wes mouth work to find words. If hed been certain before that Kurt refused even non-verbal communication with his peers, it was more than confirmed by the prefects reaction.

“This is,” Wes croaked out, eyes agog. A brilliant smile wound its way across his face as he continued. “amazing. Seriously, amazing.”

Blaine grinned. “How articulate of you, Mr. Montgomery,” he commented, earning himself a smack on the shoulder for his smart mouth. “Anyway, Im not really sure what happens next. I dont want to scare him off, but I also dont want to communicate with him.”

“Its certainly a delicate balance,” Wes agreed thoughtfully. An idea must have occurred to him, for Wes jerked back eyes locking on Blaines. “You could write back. It doesnt have to be much, but maybe if you got him talking this way...”

“Almost like Youve Got Mail,” Blaine beamed, latching on to the idea. “Only, hopefully without the animosity.”

Wes gave a scowl. “And without the Meg Ryan. And not just because youre both male,” he muttered. “Besides, I think Kurt is more the Judy Garland type.”

Blaine blinked. “This isnt some friend of Dorothy joke, is it?” he accused.

“What? No!” Wes rushed to assure. “Havent you seen anything made before the 1990s? God, Blaine. Youve Got Mail is a modern version of Parfumerie – dont ask me to try an pronounce the original Hungarian title – which has been made into movies and musicals over and again since the late 30s! Garland played the Meg Ryan character in the 1949 adaptation called In The Good Old Summertime.”

“Oh.” The blush that colored Blaines cheeks was hot, but not overly prominent with his olive tan skin. He should have known better than to assume Wes, a Dalton man through and through, would say something off-color like that. “Sorry.”

Wes waved him off. “Anyway, theres that version. And then the one with Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan. Its a storyline thats been done to death, but the point is they communicated through letters, notes, even email.”

“They fell in love with each other in the end,” Blaine pointed out.

“Yes well,” Wes shrugged. “That aside.”

~o0o~

The first note Blaine wrote was simple, much like Kurts own.

Im sorry I freaked you out.

He taped it to Kurts door before breakfast, marveling at how the crisp white shown brightly against the dark wood contrasted nicely with the elegantly penned words.

Blaine had always been proud of his penmanship, practicing for endless hours to perfect each loop and curve. Teachers had praised his technique and the ease with which they could read his work. He wondered what Kurt would think about it. Would he even be bothered to?

Raising his hand to knock, Blaine paused. He looked at the note. No, that wouldnt do. It was too simple, too short and limited. He wanted Kurt to respond, to be enticed into conversation. An apology wasnt enough.

Snatching the note back, Blaine added to it.

Im sorry I freaked you out.
Please forgive me?

Blaine smiled. Yes. That was just enough, to apologize and to invite Kurt to write back.

~o0o~

Saturday mornings at Dalton, Blaine learned, were so relaxed that it wasnt uncommon to discover a boy or two wandering around the halls in nothing more than their undershorts. Usually they were rounded up quickly and bustled back to their rooms to find some manner of clothing decent for public consumption, but not always. Occasionally they managed to drift all the way down to the dining hall, which is how Blaine discovered Jeffs penchant for superhero briefs.

“Jeffrey Sterling!” Wes shrieked, slamming his tray down on the table. “Go put some clothes on immediately! You dont come to your mothers table in your knickers, you do not come to the dining hall in them!”

“Wha?” Jeff blinked before looking down. There was a moment when his skin began to pink, flushing to a dark scarlet before turning disturbingly pale with a quickness. Without a word he fled the room.

Silence reigned for a tense second before the boys around them burst out laughing, large raucous guffaws and tittering snickers.

Wes scowled at the room, pinning the boys under his gaze. “Thats quite enough,” he told them firmly, making eye contact with the other prefects in the room. Their laughter died away under the withering scowl and the boys returned to breaking their fast, eyes steadfastly focused on their meals.

Maybe it was the way his eyes narrowed, dark and intense, that made Wes so intimidating when he wanted to be. He certainly had a way with cowing a crowd of teenage boys.

Brushing down the front of his slacks, Wes seated himself and started in on his own breakfast.

“Its a good thing youre not out for world domination,” Blaine quipped, pealing an orange and shoving a section into his mouth. “Youd be a terrifying dictator.”

“I like to think Id be a benevolent one,” Wes scoffed, buttering his toast. He took a bite and smiled wickedly. “So, did you leave our ghost a note?” he asked after swallowing.

Blaine nodded. “Yeah. A simple one, just to open the lines of communication.”

“Good.”

“Whats good?” Nick asked, dropping into a seat. His hair was ruffled and damp, clinging to his forehead in messy wisps. Fresh out out of the shower, then, and probably had no clue that his friend and roommate had stumbled down to the dining hall in his unmentionables.

For a moment, Blaine considered deflecting – a throwaway comment about kittens and rainbows or bringing up Jeffs near-naked adventures – but decided against it. Nick was his friend and while this quest, such as it was, was his own he figured there was no harm sharing.

Still, there was no harm in teasing. “Im attempting a séance,” Blaine said blandly. “Wes and I were just discussing the preparations Ive made. Ive made contact and Im hoping my offerings are accepted and lines of communication have been opened.”

Nick stared at him. “What the hell are you on about?” he asked finally, looking certain that Blaine had gone completely mad.

Wes and Blaine shared a look then broke into helpless laughter. “The Ghost!” Wes chortled, “Blaine has managed, by some act of charm and honesty, to find a way to communicate with the Ghost. Well, actually, he managed to get Kurt to communicate with him.”

“What? How?” Nick sputtered.

Blaines smile was chagrinned as he reached back to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, he apparently felt bad about yelling at me the other day. He left an apology note on my door.”

“This is big!” the boy declared, looking back and forth between them. “Seriously? Oh my God!”

“What are you Oh my God-ing?” Jeff asked as he rejoined them – fortunately fully clothed this time. “Did someone win the lottery? Was it Blainey? It couldnt have been Wes; hes too uptight to gamble.”

“While this is all rather amusing,” Wes said drolly, scanning the room and noticing theyd garnered the attention of a fair few on-lookers. “I suggest we take this somewhere more private. I dont relish the idea of loose lips knowing more than they should, if you take my meaning.”

“But I havent had breakfast yet!” Jeff protested.

“And whose fault is that?”

~o0o~

In the interest of avoid having to deal with a hungry – and thereby whiney – Jeff, the boys snagged a few portables to take back with them. Unanimously deciding on Wes room, they lugged their spoils – including rounds of coffee and a carafe for refills – back to the dorms.

“Im going to state this first and foremost,” Wes declared once the door was shut and locked. He glanced at Jeff and Nick, but included Blaine in his gaze as well. “This goes no further than the four of us. I do not want to hear even a whisper of this outside of this group, you got me?”

The three boys nodded, Jeff going so far as to cross his heart and zip his lips to show his sincerity. Blaine knew Wes was deadly serious. Gossip at Dalton could be construed as harassment and with the schools zero-tolerance policy it could spell expulsion for the gossiper. It wasnt only for Kurts benefit that they keep quite, it was also for their own.

“I hate gossip, but Im apparently a meddlesome old woman at heart,” Wes sighed. “Jeff, Nick, you both know of my concern for Kurt. How he seems to drift further and further away each day. Dalton is supposed to be a safe-haven, a place to heal and grow. Ive been trying all year to find a way to draw him out, to show him that he doesnt have to be afraid of us, but so far my efforts have been for naught.”

Nick made a sympathetic noise, but held his tongue. Jeff was not so reserved.

“I never understood why,” he pouted. “Weve been nothing but nice to him since he got here.”

“Sometimes its not that easy,” said Wes with a frown. “I may not know his story, but Ive been watching him. Its obvious that things before Dalton were... unpleasant to say the least. None of us –” he indicated the three of them. “– excepting Blaine, have come here out of a need to feel safe, to be protected. We cant connect with him. We cant empathize.”

“But Blaine can,” Nick put in, catching on with what Wes was saying.

“But Blaine can,” Wes confirmed. “I asked him that first evening to help me. To help Kurt.”

“So that scene in English class, it wasnt just some random blow up,” Jeff said mildly. “That was you, trying to what? Talk to Kurt?”

Blaine cringed. It had been an awful moment, watching Kurt cower from him – pale and afraid, then so full of anger Blaine thought he might combust. “Sort of.”

“It was a misstep.” Wes mouth twisted in a bitter frown.

“One hell of a misstep.”

“Jeffrey.”

“Im just saying, it could have gone a lot smoother.” He turned accusing eyes on Blaine, showing him for the first time that silliness and callous comments were not all of what made up Jeffrey Sterling. “What was it you even said to him to make him flip out so completely? Ive had classes with him since he started here and Ive never seen him wig out on someone like that. And then he yelled at you! I mean, you had to have said something seriously wrong to get that kind of reaction from a boy who doesnt like to talk.”

Nick stopped his rant with a gentle hand on his forearm. “Thats enough, Jeff,” he said softly. “Its not Blaines fault, not fully. He didnt know his words would trigger that kind of response. You were so flippant about it before, whats gotten into you?”

Dropping his eyes, Jeff shrugged a shoulder weakly. Truthfully, he hadnt a clue why he was going off the rails like he was. It was like a switch had been thrown and all he could do was seethe. “I guess Im just jealous. Ive tried to talk to Kurt and he just looks right through me. Then Blaine comes along and suddenly...”

Blaines tongue felt thick in his mouth. If this was how Jeff felt about the incident in English, how would he feel when he learned of the note?

A sick, twisty feeling churned in his gut, squirming under his skin like eels. It reminded him of how he felt after coming out: the black curl of hurt and shame as people hed been friends with – some for as long as he could remember – left him, abandoned him because he was something they couldnt understand, couldnt accept.

Hed just met these people. He didnt want to lose them so soon. Not over this.

“Im sorry, I--”

“Blaine, this is Jeffs problem. Not yours,” Nick soothed. “Jeffrey, you need to get over yourself. Youre freaking Blaine out. Are you happy?”

Jeff frowned, turning to look at Blaine – pale and worried, wringing his hands as if gripping them together would help him hold on. “Oh, God, Im sorry, Blaine. I didnt mean to-- God, Im such a selfish prick. Youre only trying to help and here I am being a dick because you got a reaction – and not a good one mind you – out of Kurt. Fuck.”

It was a testament to the state of things that Wes didnt comment on Jeffs language. Instead he shook his head. “Can we return to the matter at hand?” he sighed eventually, clearly distressed with the direction the conversation had turned.

“Yeah, shit, Im sorry, guys.”

“Its fine, lets just... move on,” Wes suggested, determined to take back the reigns. “Despite the obvious failure of Blaines first attempt, some good may have come of it. Kurt left a note, apologizing for yelling--”

“Screaming.”

“--at him. Im not entirely sure what prompted this communique, but--”

“My report,” Blaine muttered in surprise, ignoring Wes irritation at the constant interruption. “Do you think...?”

“Its possible,” Wes agreed. “Yes, its quite possible.”

Nick looked confused. “What report?”

“Nothing--”

“Oh!” Jeff exclaimed, eyes bright with sudden understanding. “Oh, Blainey! You put yourself out there for him! You told us all your sad tale so he could know he wasnt alone!”

Blaine shifted uncomfortably as the other boy gushed, brown eyes bright with the glistening hint of tears. The complete turn around from his earlier ire was dazzling and confusing – another thing about Jeff that Blaine was coming to learn: quick to anger, quicker to forget.

If it wasnt for that fact, Blaine likely wouldnt have felt so befuddled by the unrestrained way in which Jeff regaled the event. Telling his story wasnt something he was ashamed of. No, hed promised himself no more hiding – even if being open had gotten him into trouble before, he wasnt going to run. Dalton was a safe place, a place where he could practice being himself before having to face the terrors of the real world. So open he was going to be – even if he had to suffer Jeffs quavering limpid eyes; and his apparent clinginess for no sooner had Jeff finished his effusive commentary did he try and wrap himself around Blaine like an octopus.

Fortunate for Blaine, however, Jeff had significantly less appendages with which to smother him. “Jeff, please let go,” Blaine hissed, pushing at the gangly limbs. “Crushing me, here.”

“Oops!” Jeff giggled. He let go with a suddenness that send Blaine falling backwards onto Wes bed.

“If you are quite finished,” Wes shushed sternly. “Nick, I suggest you reign in your boyfriend before he does damage to our potential Warbler. Jeff, sit down and calm down. Blaine...”

Wes tirade stuttered to a halt with a heavy sigh. “Lets just get back to the topic at hand, shall we?”

“But we were--”

“Without the weepy commentary, Mr. Sterling.”

~o0o~

After filling Nick in on the happenings in English class and coming to the conclusion that, unless Kurt responded to Blaines own entreaty, there wasnt more they could do for the time being. Declaring the meeting over, Wes evicted them from his room so he could study.

“Study, sure,” Jeff drawled, giggling into Nicks shoulder as the three drifted down the hall toward their own rooms. “Hes gonna call up Stephanie, see if she wants to get coffee or something.”

“It must be hard having a girlfriend and never seeing her,” Nick said quietly.

“Are you two really boyfriends?” Blaine blurted out, eyes wide with shock at his own audacity.

The three of them had stopped in the middle of the hall. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, bright beams in the otherwise dark corridor, casting shadows in sharp relief on the plains of the boys faces. Blaine stood stock still, holding his breath and hoping he hadnt tread where he shouldnt; but he was curious. Wes was forever on them, teasingly commenting on their relationship, hinting at more or merely implying it – Blaine wasnt sure which.

“I mean, its cool if you are or arent, that is, I was just-- Im sorry, its not my place, forget I asked,” he babbled, feeling more the fool with each word that left his mouth.

Jeffs giggle silenced Blaine quicker than his own embarrassment and he stared. “Oh, god, Blainey, that was hilarious!” he wailed while Nick blushed furiously. “The look on your face!”

A soft oof replaced the giggles as Nick recovered from his blush enough to jab Jeff in the ribs with his elbow. “Be nice,” he tutted. Looking more collected now, Nick smiled. “Yes, Blaine, were together. Jeffs really a lot sweeter than he looks.”

“Hey!” Jeff protested. “Now who needs to be nice?”

“Im sorry we didnt say anything before,” Nick continued, ignoring Jeffs pouting. “We werent trying to hide it. We just...”

“Were us.” Jeffs words claimed so much with so little. They were Jeff and Nick, and Nick and Jeff. They existed with each other – an entity made of two people. Being boyfriends didnt change the fact that they were friends, and instead was just another aspect of them.

“Niff,” Blaine supplied, grinning from ear to ear. It was silly, but he understood it. They didnt have to declare themselves to him – or to anyone else for that matter – and they might not even think about defining themselves outside of who they were: together.

Jeff grinned back. “Exactly.”

~o0o~

There was a wobbly feeling in Blaines stomach again, only this time it was fueled by nervous excitement.

When the three evicted boys had parted ways, he had been thinking about what it must be like to have the kind of relationship the two boys shared. He thought about his day dreams of meeting his own someone, of being so close that being without them was like missing a limb. Two people, connected – individuals in their own right, but so much more when they were together.

Blaine was so lost in the thought that he didnt notice the note until he motion of opening his door sent the sheet fluttering in his face.

“Oh, hello there,” he breathed, reaching up to catch the page between careful fingertips.

Theres nothing to forgive.

Frowning, Blaine considered the words before sighing. No opening there. Dead end. He was about to drop the note onto his desk in defeat when an idea occurred to him.

Before he could even consider his actions, his pen was gliding across a loose sheet, the words taking shape and form and meaning. Just as quickly, he rushed to deliver it, following this new tradition and hoping it would be found.

With a smile on his face and hope in his heart, he turned and left.