Thursday was shaping up to be a fairly lazy day. Color War was over, and the day was pretty much a free for all for the campers. In the morning, I spent most of my time at archery. Technically, I was there to help campers who were trying to score the last few points needed to advance to a new level. In reality, it was mostly groups of campers wandering by together and stopping in to talk and shoot a few rounds before they moved on to a new activity.

I had plenty of time to shoot between groups, along with the other counselors. Archery was one of the many things from camp that I never did at home, so it was good to have a last chance. It's not that people don't own bows and arrows in Ohio. It's just that most people with bows and arrows in Ohio are hard core hunters. The idea of me dressed all in camo sitting out in the woods and trying to shoot poor Bambi is just absurd. Not that they'd probably welcome me anyway.

After lunch, I changed into the ever common, for me, board shorts and rash guard and made my way down to the docks. Technically, I was supposed to be working with any campers who came along to test out of canoe or kayak skills. This time, in reality, I was there to continue kayaking lessons with a certain curly haired boyfriend of mine. Unless it got super busy down here, Joe had cleared me to take Blaine out and work with him.

Speaking of which, he'd beaten me here. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. He should really walk around in just swim trunks all the time. It was really too bad that we'd have to cover up some of that glorious skin with a life jacket.

I snapped out of my reverie to realize that Blaine had been talking to me. "What?"

It took a moment for Blaine to figure out what had just happened. He paused, a blush seeping into his skin as he looked over toward me with an expression that changed moment to moment between looking rather proud and quite self-conscious. In the end, he just settled for an amused shake of his head.

I grabbed a life jacket in his size and stepped closer to hand it to him, leaning in to whisper, "It's not my fault that I have a boyfriend who is so nice to look at without a shirt on."

The last few nights of camp, we took full opportunity to be sappy, despite the fact that there were so many seemingly 'tough' guys around. On Thursday night, we gathered in the  playhouse, filling all the wooden benches of the place. Tradition dictated that the color war captains filled one of their trunks with mementos of the summer. Along with the typical campfire songs, we all watched them 'unpack' the trunk, sharing memories and jokes from their seven weeks here.

I managed to take a place on the bench next to Blaine. We were surrounded by our campers, so there was no real way to show affection, but I'll admit that I spent as much of the time watching his reactions as I did watching the stage. As we stood, walking quietly towards the dining hall, Blaine leaned close to whisper to me, "Where are we going now?"

"Our tables for the week. You'll walk right to your seat and get paper there. I need to get an envelope first." I looked ahead to the lights of the dining hall against the backdrop of tree shadows and stars. "Each year, we write ourselves a letter. They get saved up in envelopes and kept here. The first year you can't return, they mail all your letters to you at the start of the summer. I have nine to start out reading, going all the way back to when I was eight."

"So this could take awhile." Blaine stated, looking around. "Especially for those of you who have been here forever. Does Schue have like thirty of them?"

I laughed softly. "Probably. And yeah, it kind of does. If you have extra time, you're free to write notes to other people. Hopefully the boys will be good sitting quietly for that long."

That was the last note of our conversation because we entered the doors of the dining hall and peeled off in separate directions. I collected the thick manila envelope with my name written on it in my own neat handwriting and walked silently towards my seat for the week.

I dumped the contents of the envelope out onto the table and started to read, ignoring Schue's explanation. I knew well enough what to do. I started with the earliest letters and smiled, remembering the casual enthusiasm of being that age. Undercurrents of grief had filled my life that first year, but they weren't reflected in the letter. I was too young to spend much time on insight.

The tone of the letters changed as I grew up. I could tell where going home to elementary school changed to going home to seventh grade. The summer before, I'd had no idea what awaited me in middle school. It was clear in that letter that now I knew.

I wish I could stay here forever. How is that here I can be myself and not get called names? No one has hit me or pushed me all summer. Even when we fight, they aren't cruel.  I don't want to go back. I just want to live here, with these people, all year long.

That bit of the letter could fit me as well today as it had when I was twelve. From that point on, the letters were less full of childlike joy and more reflective.

I read through the one from when I was fourteen, admitting on paper the crush I'd been fighting having on Sam all summer, a full year before I came out.

My letter from when I was fifteen was triumphant. I'd done it. I'd come out. I'd been Color War captain. I'd been able to fully be myself and be a leader in the camp. I'd recounted seeing the younger boys looking at me like I'd looked at the older campers when I was their age. As if they were the coolest people in the world. People I someday wanted to grow up to be like.

I smiled when I read the phrase I'd ended it with. This is the best summer I've ever had in my life. I want to remember all of this forever. At the time, that had been true. Now, it gave me the opening for my letter this year. I skimmed quickly through my letter from CIT summer, reading about working with the seniors and the trip to Quebec City. Finally, I was ready to write this summer's letter. I reached out to grab a piece of paper and a pen from the center of the table and tuned out everyone around me in favor of focusing on writing a new letter to join the collection.

August 11, 2011

Dear future self,

When I was fifteen, I wrote that I'd had the best summer of my life. That might have been true at the time, but it's not anymore. I can without a doubt write that this is the best summer I've ever had. I may look back on this someday and disagree again, but I don't think that could be a bad thing. Any summer that tops this one will have to be pretty wonderful.

I don't know where my future lies with Blaine, but I know that I'm enjoying the present. Maybe we'll end up being one of those rare sets of high school sweethearts that stay together forever, but even if we're not, I'll be grateful for the relationship. Blaine will always be my first boyfriend, and I hope he'll always hold a place as one of my best friends, no matter what.

This summer has been in part the wonder of watching Blaine heal. There's almost no compare between the confident, silly, and, most importantly, happy guy I see today and the skittish, fearful Blaine that started the summer here. I may have been first attracted to that wounded look in his lovely eyes, but I enjoy him this way so much more. I can't wait to see how he blooms next year.

Technically, this is my last summer as a camper, but it doesn't feel like it. At some point this summer, I stopped feeling like a camper altogether. I keep trying to figure out when, but I can't. Maybe when I moved into cabin 3 with Rory and Finn. Maybe when I went on my first out of camp kayaking trip with Joe. Whenever it was, I like it. I feel like I'm here not just for me anymore, but for all the people that rely on me. For my campers and the kids in my activity area. That sounds really smug as I'm writing it.

Anyway, this summer has been wonderful. I think that going through it with Blaine and seeing his expressions at experiencing everything for the first time has made a lot of familiar traditions feel new all over again.

I continued my writing for a few more paragraphs before signing my name at the end with a flourish. I carefully folded the letter, writing the year on the outside, and then tucked them all back in my manila envelope. As I glanced around the room, I could see that the last few people were finishing writing. My eyes went to all the boys from my cabin. I had to laugh when I saw that even Liam and Seth were starting to squirm in their seats. I felt for the poor counselor trying to keep Jared seated and quiet.

Thad and David stood up then, leaving the table they'd been sharing with the other ULs and moving toward the door. That was the signal I'd been waiting for. I whispered to the kids at my table who were finished, shepherding them toward the exit. Letters were deposited back into a box there, and each of us collected a candle from one of the Unit Leaders as we walked past. David rested a hand on my shoulder as I took a candle from him. "Remember, I'm calling dibs on you for next summer, so you'd better be here."

I nodded back silently, flashing a smile over to David even as I tried to hold in tears. Reading all the letters had brought them close to the surface, anyway. Stepping out of the dining hall door, I walked toward Wes, leaning down to light my candle off of his. He flashed me a smile, which I returned, but no words needed to be said there. Candle lit, I led a group of younger campers off toward the junior cabins, taking a place to stand on the porch of Cabin 3.

As people trickled out of the dining hall, the sight became more and more beautiful. Campers and staff stood on each of their cabin porches, ringing the grassy quad with light.

I would like to say it was peaceful, but that was probably only true for counselors with older campers. For us, it was more the task of keeping anyone from lighting a cabinmate on fire. Or Jared from lighting up the whole porch with his wildly swinging candle. It was a relief when the sounds of soft singing started to carry from the oldest campers around the ring and down toward the younger ones.

I took up the melody when it reached me, singing softly, "Each candle lights anew the flame of friendship true, the joy I've had in knowing you will last the whole year through." The words felt ever so true in those moments. This was what I was trusting to get me through the school year, no matter how bad it might get. Tradition. Friendship. The promise of next summer.

As Cabin 1 finished their way through the melody, they blew out their candles. The song faded out slowly as each cabin of people extinguished their candles and stopped singing. Being in Cabin 3, our chance came quickly. Maybe that was by design. A way to have the youngest campers holding lit candles for the shortest amount of time.

Finally, only the oldest campers were left singing, faintly going through a full verse of the song before they blew out their candles. I glanced over to Blaine, moving to stand close to his side so that I could whisper, "Pretty, isn't it? This one of my favorite traditions of the summer. Too bad we only get it when the time's almost done."

Friday was caught up in a rush of packing and cleaning. Schue had this whole packing list that he'd gotten from his mother. I swear that every other step on it was sweeping. The floor of our cabin had never looked as good as it did by the time we got freshly scrubbed boys changed for the banquet that night.

The banquet was a calm enough affair. Each cabin ate together for it, with the staff serving. At the end, we sat for quite a while as awards and trophies were given out in each activity area. That part had been much more entertaining back when I'd been a camper and had the chance to earn some.

At last, it was time to slip out of the dining hall for the last time the whole camp would be together. Buses would start to pull out of camp at 8:00 the next morning, so breakfast would be a grab and go affair. I still couldn't believe that it was all coming to a close.

Our next stop was the campfire ring. This was camp. Every summer had to end in that spot. It was like a written rule of camps everywhere that there should be a closing campfire. Ours was traditionally almost all songs. I patted my pocket for the tissues I knew I'd stashed there, and then settled on a long log with our campers. I'd ended up lucking out and getting to sit on the end with Blaine next to me. I was almost to the point of falling off, really, so sitting that close to Blaine was only necessary, you see.

Blaine nudged me gently and nodded down to his other side. I glanced over and couldn't resist a soft smile. Seth was leaning against Blaine, his head resting on the soft fabric of Blaine's t-shirt sleeve.

My chance to press up against Blaine's side was short lived. After a few opening words and a talk about how wonderful this summer had been, Schue called Blaine up to get his guitar. Blaine gave me a quick, regretful look, then made his way to the front of the group, taking a seat on a stump there and lifting his guitar out of its case.

We started with a few classics like Linger and Leaving on a Jet Plane. Then Schue got up again, holding a large, brass goblet. He asked us to toss in wishes for the year away from camp. It was a silly tradition, but I thought seriously about them anyway. I wished that the kids at school would just ignore me this year. I wished that my relationship with Blaine would only grow stronger when we got back to Ohio. I reached up to my head and mimed pulling them out and tossing them into the goblet, just like everyone around me, no matter what their age.

When Schue had collected them all, he turned to face the fire. "As these wishes burn in the flame of our last night together, let them go up into the air and travel across this country. Let the magic we feel in this place help our wishes and dreams to come true." Then he tossed the contents of the cup into the fire. A tall column of flame rose and then died down with a whoosh. Even though I knew now that it was the reaction of sugar being thrown into the fire, I still felt the same rush of awe that I had when I'd been Liam's age.

Finn stood up next making his way up to the front. He nodded over toward Blaine letting the younger man speak.

Blaine licked his lips, hesitating for a moment before he spoke up. "I asked Finn to help me with a song, and Schue approved it. I just wanted to play something for you all to say thank you. You have all been so great in welcoming me this summer and really making me feel like part of the group, even when I wasn't sure I could be. So this is for all of you, new friends and new brothers. Who knew this is what would be waiting for me?"

As soon as he started up the first chords on his guitar, I knew exactly what song it would be. I couldn't keep a smile off my face. This was a good surprise, though I wondered when they'd had time to practice. This song had always reminded me of camp, no matter where I heard it.

Finn started the song off, singing out over Blaine's guitar:

Another turning point,

A fork stuck in the road,

Time grabs you by the wrist,

Directs you where to go.

Even though it was Finn singing those words, I was still struck by the part about time grabbing you by the wrist. It might be a bad comparison, but it brought to mind the bright red cast and the cruelly broken wrist that had led Blaine here in the first place. Blaine picked up the lyrics next, reminding me of how much I love his voice.

So make the best of this test,

And don't ask why,

It's not a question,

But a lesson learned in time.

As they got to the chorus, they joined their voices together. I'll admit to being rather surprised about just how well their voices blended.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.

I hope you had the time of your life.

I listened to the rest of the song, entranced by the change in Blaine's expression over the course of this. I'd been proud of him for just being open enough to sing in front of the whole camp in the first place. I was pretty sure the only solos he'd sung so far this summer had been in Cabin 3.

He'd opened the song looking down at his guitar. But by the middle of it, his head was up, and he was practically basking in all the attention given to him. The smile Blaine had as the whole camp burst into applause at the end of the song was practically wide enough to split his face open.

The campfire slowly wound down from there, leading into slower and slower songs. Blaine was given a break from playing on a few of them, and returned to my side each time. Finally, Schue made eye contact, nodding him up one last time. Blaine took his seat again on the stump we should pretty well carve his name onto. Schue lifted a tiki torch again, turning back to the same wire frame he'd used for color war just two nights before.

"As this camp year comes to a close, let us hold what we have learned and the friendships we have made here close to our hearts as we go back out into the wider world." Schue said, looking out over all the assembled campers. "Let us put 2011 to a close and begin to look forward to 2012." He turned around, and lit the wire frame. Instead of the name of a color war team, this time burning on the frame was simply 2011. "And to finish the evening with one last song, this is my wish for all of you." He nodded over towards Blaine to start the song, coming in at the appropriate spot:

May the good Lord be with you,

Down every road you roam,

And may sunshine and happiness,

Surround you when you're far from home.

And may you grow to be proud, dignified and true.

And do unto others and you'd have done to you.

Be courageous, and be brave

And in my heart, you'll always stay,

Forever young, forever young

Forever young, forever young

The cabin looked so different as we settled the boys down for an attempt at sleep that night. All the boys belongings were packed away in duffel bags and trunks, stacked at the front of the cabin. We'd let the boys push all their cots together in the middle of the open space for the night. The sleeping bags that they usually used for campouts were spread out over them, all their heads towards the center. It was the last night of camp. They were welcome to stay up late and whisper and giggle like little girls, so long as they didn't get crazy. Who cared if we gave them back to their parents all worn out?

Finn was the last one to slip back into the counselor area of the cabin. I'd long ago given Blaine a quick side hug goodbye. If it was anything like last year, the CITs would be having a great time most of the night in their cabin. I wondered how many times Wes would have to go into their room and tell them to get some sleep before they'd finally comply.

I slid the my summer reading books into the duffel bag with my towels and bedding. Hopefully it wouldn't be over the weight limit, only saving behind the last of them to settle into the backpack I was taking on the plane with me. "Do you have your travel plans all figured out, Rory?" I asked over, settling cross legged on my cot to check out the contents of my backpack. It'd be awful to accidentally put my pocket knife in there or something.

"Aye. I think so. Schue is letting four of us internationals take care of the bus group to New York City tomorrow. We're staying in a hostel there for a few nights to sightsee and then going down to Washington, D.C. From there, we'll see how much money we have left." Rory admitted, rolling tightly the t-shirts he was stuffing down into a large, backpacking bag. All his linens and his trunk belonged to the camp. He'd already turned them in earlier today. That felt so final.

"Well, if you ever end up in Ohio, you can come crash on my couch." I offered, sure my father would agree in that unlikely circumstance.

"I doubt I will, but thank you for the offer." Rory grinned over. "I'm excited to see more of the country. Maybe next year."

I nodded, standing to cross the room and collect my phone from where I'd been charging it. After a whole summer without a cell phone, it was going to be odd to get off a plane tomorrow and go back to sending constant texts. "I think we should make a pact that all three of us will be back here at least one more year."

"I agree." Finn spoke up, unrolling his sleeping bag across his cot, one of his last things to pack. "Same place, same time. Plus, you never know when I might end up randomly in Ohio needing a place to stay." He added that last part on jokingly.

"I'll let Blaine know. I bet you could sleep on his couch." I teased right back, sliding my phone into the front pocket of my bag.

Rory rolled his eyes at the two of us. "Giant children." He muttered, joining the joke for a moment before he nodded more seriously. "I hope I'll be able to. I certainly plan to make it happen."

"Perfect. Alright. Some of us have to be up super early to leave on the first bus out. We can get all weepy in the morning. Right?" I ignored any mutters or eyes rolled at me as I slunk down into my own sleeping bag, pulling it up over my head to block out their light and quiet conversation.

As the airplane rolled to a stop at the gate, I nudged Blaine softly. Halfway through our second flight, he'd fallen asleep on my shoulder. It was much too cute to wake him up before necessary. Now however, I didn't want to be stuck on the flight forever.

Blaine and I had been lucky enough that our flights still had a bit of extra space. As long as one of us was willing to sit in the middle seat, and we'd traded that right between flights, we got seats next to each other on both legs of our trip. I'd been correct about Blaine staying up most of the night with the CITs. He'd been trying to hide yawns all day until he'd finally given in to sleep on this last leg.

Well, he'd been busy hiding yawns and passing me Kleenex. I do have to admit to some tears as I hugged everyone goodbye at camp. The waterworks started when Mike whispered to me that I could still call him whenever I needed to vent to someone who cared. It didn't stop until a good twenty minutes into the bus ride towards Manchester.

The bus had dropped all the people flying off at the airport and continued on toward Boston. The tears had started again in a smaller way when Sam boarded his flight, off toward California. Thank goodness I didn't have to say goodbye to Blaine until Columbus, and then only until the next time one of us could drive off to meet the other.

If Blaine sleeping had been cute, Blaine waking slowly up and rubbing his eyes blearily was downright adorable. I tried to hide a grin as he muttered, "Is it morning?"

"Close enough. We're at the gate in Columbus. Home, morning. Same thing?" I teased lightly, following Blaine out into the crowded aisle.

"Sure." Blaine still didn't sound fully awake, but he pulled his backpack out of the overhead bin and started out of the plane.

He'd finally woken up enough for us to be chatting about articles in the new issue of Vogue I'd read on the flight as we walked through exit from the secure area, passing the line to get through the security checkpoint. I scanned the people there quickly and then left Blaine behind for a moment as I spotted a familiar face.

"Dad!" I reached out to get pulled into a tight hug. My dad held me tight for a moment before he pushed me to arms length looking me up and down.

"Still in one piece." Dad commented to my laugh. "This summer treat you well?"

"It was great. Wonderful. Amazing." I couldn't keep the grin off my face now. As hard as it had been to leave everyone at camp, being back with my dad was something I'd missed. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." I grabbed his hand pulling him toward where I'd left Blaine standing. "Dad, this is Blaine. I wrote to you about him, remember? Blaine, this is my dad, Burt."

Blaine held his hand out politely. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Hummel."

"Please, it's just Burt." My dad gave Blaine a quick glance over, too. "It's nice to meet you. I certainly remember. since I'd swear that's the only thing that was in any of your letters this year, kid."

I flushed with a bit of embarrassment then realized, "Blaine? Are your parents here?"

"They're probably waiting down at the baggage claim. If not, I'll give my mom a call." Blaine shifted nervously for a moment.

"Well, why don't we go down and see how much Kurt's luggage has multiplied this summer, and we'll see if we can find them, then?" My father must have noticed that nervousness, covering for it quickly.

"It did not multiply." I huffed with good humor. "Well, maybe an issue or two of magazines more. Airplane reading." I started off down toward the luggage area, glad the airline had been quick. The buzzer for our carousel sounded just as we arrived.

Blaine's parents were no where to be seen when we got there, but by the time we'd made a shared pile of our luggage, Mrs. Anderson was walking over, pushing one of the yellow luggage carts. "Blaine. There you are. You already have your bags?"

Blaine moved to give his mother a quick hug. "I do. You remember, Kurt, right?" He asked as he stepped back. "And this is his father, Mr. Hummel."

As our parents exchanged pleasantries, I helped Blaine load his luggage onto the cart. Then I pulled him in for a tight hug. He held me close for longer than was socially acceptable, in Lima at least. Maybe it could pass in Columbus. "I guess this is goodbye." He whispered.

"Never." I whispered back. "This is just I'll see you in a couple of weeks. I'm never, ever saying goodbye to you."

Blaine pulled back to give me a watery smile. "I like the sound of that. You have my number? Text me when you get home."

I nodded. "And probably half the way home, too." I wiped at my eyes. "It's a long drive." And I was not going to start up crying again.

Blaine simply nodded his head quietly, turning back to look at me as his mother led him out toward their car.

"So, found a boyfriend this summer?" My father asked, watching me closely.

"I did. One who only lives two hours drive away, even. What were the odds?" I bent down, digging wheels out of my bag to snap them into the right place on my trunk.

"Good." I was glad for my father's approval as we each started to wheel a big piece of luggage each toward the car. "Just don't put too many miles on your Navigator."

"Yes, father." I rolled my eyes, making sure that I was the one lifting each heavy item into the back of my dad's pickup.

It wasn't until I was sitting in the passenger seat on the road back towards Lima that it all hit me. I leaned my head against the cooler glass of the window, letting out a long breath. Summer was over. It was time to face another year. At least this year I wouldn't be facing it alone.