Kurt settled the Halloween letters and pictures back into the memory box, pulling out the next letter in line. Once again, this letter had come quickly after the last, this time packed at the top of a brown cardboard box. The way it had all been packed, it had been clear that the letter was meant to come before pulling the newspaper away that had been stuffed around the rest of the contents. It might have had something to do with the bright green post-it stuck to the letter saying ‘Read me first.’ Blaine was nothing if not subtle in his hints.

Kurt,

Is it bad that I’m using this letter to tell you things I’m too nervous to talk about over Skype? Before you freak out, it’s nothing horrible. I love you, and I have no intention of cheating on you or breaking up with you. Take a deep breath.

I’m also not applying to NYADA. I will join you in New York if it’s the last thing I do, but not there. You know that my father and I have been fighting since the summer about this whole issue. We finally reached a compromise that I’m very at peace with. Well, I’m almost afraid to admit to myself, even, how much this option excites me and just feels right. I’m almost finished with my application to NYU, but not to Tisch. I’m applying to the Music Education program and going for a minor in Theater Education as well. Maybe someday I’ll have a glee club of my own to torment with Katy Perry and Pink songs the way Mr. Schue torments us with Journey.

In the end, Dad’s refusing to pay for a ‘useless’ degree. I blame Cooper fully. Can we just blame everything in life on him? I can’t find my keys! Blame Cooper. The toaster’s broken. Blame Cooper.

Well, maybe not, but in this case, I think I can, for a combination of Dad’s attitudes. First there’s the whole college is a waste of time for performers note that Cooper’s so famous for. Which is really more because he’d have flunked out, probably. So Dad is insisting that if I am going to be a performer, why waste time and money on college. Thanks Coop.

 Then on the other hand, Dad keeps going on about how one of his kids at least needs to be able to hold a ‘real’ job. Needs to be going to college for something he feels more comfortable bragging about to his friends, more likely.

God, I’m sick of the fighting. I hate the way fighting with him makes me feel. Or fighting with anyone, really. It’s been slowly tearing me up inside for months now. I can’t do it anymore.

After the whole situation where the only parent I had show up to see “The Music Man” was your dad, I got my dad to actually carve out time to sit down and really talk to me. Even if I had to schedule the appointment a week in advance. Just joking. Mostly. In the end, I got him to see that I’d never be happy majoring in business or political science with eye on law school. I also may have pointed out that if I do ever choose to go to law school someday, I wouldn’t be going for corporate law like he’d want. I’d probably end up working for the HRC or the ACLU, and how would he explain that to his friends at the country club? Instead, we settled on education. Which I may have had planned before I ever asked him to sit down and talk about this.

Teaching the arts just feels right, though. I love music and theater and all of that, but I also really love helping other people become their best. That whole mentor complex you love to tease me about. When I look toward the future, I really can see myself as a teacher. I could still find gigs in the evenings and summers, if I want to. Hell, maybe I’ll still make it big as a performer anyway. But I really do feel like I’d be happy either way. And in the end, that’s all I want from this. To go to college for something that makes me happy. This will.

I feel like I’m babbling on paper right now. I’m not sure why I was so nervous to tell you all of this over Skype or the phone. I guess I just wanted to give you time if you needed it to become as excited about this as I am.

When you get this, and you’re ready to be excited, call me so we can talk about my essay. I think I’m going crazy over it. I just don’t know how much I want to expose myself. One of the choices is about overcoming adversity. Can I write about Sadie Hawkins and Prom without making it sound like I live in a freaking Soap Opera? Do I really want to out myself in my college application? I need advice here.

But other than that essay, NYU’s app is done. I’ll still have to audition, I think. I’m also finishing applications for Columbia and Fordham. And probably a couple other places. Hell, I’d start at a community college if I had to, as long as it was in New York with you.

On a totally separate note, I saw what’s in the package and immediately thought of you. Don’t ask what I was doing in that store. You probably don’t want to know. I’m not calling this one an exhibit. It’s nothing about my life here this year. Nothing about what you’re not missing in Lima. This one is a flat out gift. I know you said you missed cuddling, and you were having trouble sleeping sometimes, so I thought this could help with both.

I love you. Please call me, because by the time this package reaches you in New York, I’ll probably be freaking out and wishing I’d sent this to you in an email or something more immediate.

Blaine

P.S. That is definitely not a baby penguin. Not anymore. The baby penguin has grown up into the king of all penguins.

Maybe Blaine had been right to send it this way. Kurt remembered back to how much he’d appreciated not having to worry about fighting long distance because he’d said something dumb before having the chance to consider it. Still, he picked the package up after class, and called Blaine as soon as he knew Blaine would be finished with dinner that evening. It hadn’t taken him long to be ready for that phone call.

Kurt had been disappointed, but at the same time he understood. Part of growing up this year. They’d actually just had a rational discussion about it. It had been so clear that Blaine had thought it all through. Without his father’s support there was no way Blaine could afford tuition at a college in New York. He might be able to work and study at OSU, but that wasn’t really what either of them wanted. What really won Kurt over to the idea though had been listening to the enthusiasm in Blaine’s voice as he talked about what he’d chosen to major in. It didn’t feel like Blaine was settling, just that he was curving the path of his dreams a little bit.

The other part of the package had helped out as well. Kurt turned to reach up for the stuffed animal resting beside his pillow. Rachel and his roommate Thomas might make fun of him for sleeping with the thing, but it was so worth it. The stuffed penguin was cute and cuddly. Blaine had seen it and picked it out just for him. Though what in the world Blaine had been doing in Build-A-Bear, Kurt still hadn’t asked.

Kurt gave the penguin a tight squeeze listening to the sound chip Blaine had recorded inside. A simple “I love you, Kurt,” in Blaine’s own voice. With the number of times he’d played it, Kurt was probably lucky the battery hadn’t run out yet. Maybe it was worth one more squeeze right now before he moved on to the next letter.