(The following message is written in a secret code. You must decipher the code using only the tools available to you. I leave you with only one clue: left.)

Frst Lity.

Yjr trsdpm yjod ,rddshr od etoyyrn om vpfr eo;; nrvp,r s[[strmy dppm/

Dp O esd doyyomh pm ,u nrf. s;pmr. ejrm ejp djpi;f [p[ omyp ,u jrsf niy ,u imgso;u drcu npugtormf/ Smf O tr,r,nrtrd yjsy yjod imsot;u drcu npugtormf eo;; nr ;rsbomh ,r gpt yjr Noh S[[;r dppm rmpihj )fp mpy frmu oy_ smf O eoll nr s;; s;pmr/

Niy yjrm O yjpihjy. ejrm ,u npugtormf od pgg ti;omh yjr voyu. ejp od hpomh yp yslr vstr pg jom1 Ejp4d hpomh yp ;or eoyj jom sy mohjy. yslr jod yjtpnnomh rtrvyopm smf ;ovl s htrsy noh dyto[r i[ oy og O vsm4y nr yjrtr1 Ejp4d hpomh yp rc[;ptr rbrtu omvj pg jod d,ppyj. [rtgrvy dlom. s;; tps,omh jsmfd smf vitopid ypmgird. imyo; jr4d nrhhomh gpt tr;rsdr1 Ejp4d hpomh yp dytryvj jo, p[rm. joy yjsy derry d[py. ,slr jo, vtu piy om rvdysdu smf tr;rsdr dp jstf jr [sddrd piy1

Ejp od hpomh yp fp yjrdr yjomhs gpt upi og O vsm1y nr yjrtr yp fp yjr,1

Dp O frvofrf yp gpthry snpiy yjr giyitr smf epttu snpiy yjr mpe/ Smf tohjy mpe. O4, ;uomh pm ,u nrf. gi;;u=jstf vpvl om jsmf. esoyomh gpt ,u imgso;u drcu npugtormf yp vp,r smf fp dp,ryjomh snpiy oy/

u [strmyd epm4y nr jpmr imyo; yp,pttpe mohjy/ :ry4d jp[r upi frvo[jrt yjod nu yjrm/

S;; ,u ;pbr.
N;somr

He started at the screen for the longest time. Was he drunk? Hallucinating? Finally feeling the effects of one too many shoves into a locker? What the hell was this?

The following message is written in a secret code. Brilliant. Just what he needed. He loved his boyfriend, he really did, but sometimes his herculean efforts at romance were a little...over the top.

He leaned back in his desk chair, puzzled. He turned his head in various directions, hoping that the letters formed a picture when viewed from the side. Nope. He copied and pasted different lines and entered them into a Google search, but to no avail. He tried letter replacement, but it didn't get him far enough.

He was stuck.

He considered phoning his boyfriend and demanding an explanation, but that was akin to admitting defeat, which he never, ever did. So, with a huff, he abandoned the computer, email still onscreen, and collapsed on his bed with a groan.

A few minutes passed, and someone knocked on his door. "You okay, bro?"

He removed his face from the comforter and glared up at his stepbrother. "No. My boyfriend's being a jerk."

Finn looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Oh. Should I...like...beat him up or something, or...?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and hauled himself off of the bed. "No. It's just, he sent me this email, this encoded email, and I have no idea what it says."

"Have you tried decoding it?" Finn actually backed up a few steps at the look on Kurt's face. "Okay, never mind. Here, let me look." The taller boy set his open bag of Doritos on Kurt's dresser and wiped his hands on his jeans, earning a mortified squawk from his stepbrother. He bent over the computer and examined the email. "Hm..." After a minute or so, Finn opened up a Word document and placed it side-by-side with the email. He began to type, and a coherent message took form.

Dear Kurt,

The reason this message is written in code will become apparent soon.

Finn was only able to write a few more sentences before Kurt's face flushed and he grabbed the taller boy's hands. "Thank you, Finn!" he squeaked.

"But, dude, I'm not done—"

"Yes, yes you are!" Kurt stopped and took a deep breath. "Okay. Can you just explain to me how to decode this thing so I can finish it myself?"

"Uh, sure." Finn took a minute to explain the fairly simple process, and for a moment, Kurt just stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?"

"It's just...you thought you impregnated Quinn via hot tub. How did you solve this so quickly?"

Finn preened. "I like puzzles. But why don't you want me to finish this one for you?"

"Erm..." Kurt's face reddened even more. "I...it's just not an email I'd like members of my family to be reading, if you catch my drift." Judging by Finn's blank face, he didn't. "Honestly, how do you have such selective intelligence? It's a very private email, Finn, which is why it was written in code, so if you don't mind, your services have been much appreciated, but I think there's a hockey game on or something downstairs, so thank you, good day." He bodily shoved his stepbrother from the room and closed the door, ignoring Finn's shout of "But it's not even hockey season!"

Kurt returned to the computer and spent another five minutes decoding Blaine's email. By the end, the front of his skinny jeans was tented, and his heartbeat was far higher than normal.

He clicked reply and typed one sentence: O4, vp,omh/

With that, he grabbed his car keys, wallet, and phone, and was out the door.