“Where do you even find this shit?” Kurt asked, still smiling a little, closing the car door behind him.

  “The internet is a very wonderful and very weird place, and I get bored.”

  “And, let me get this straight, when you’re bored, you think that ‘hey, why don’t I find out how a cat penis looks’?”

  “Hey, don’t look at me like that, I like knowing worthless things.” Blaine said with a little laugh, nudging Kurt shoulder with his own. They’d arrived to the door, and they shared a look before Kurt pressed the doorbell. There was only a second before the door opened and they gladly stepped inside, eager to get out of the cold. 

  “What’s with the doorbell business?” called Santana, her head appearing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you two have developed manners,”

  “Of course not,” said Blaine, handing his jacket to Brittany, who seemed hellbent on taking them and hang them up herself. They both had to roll their eyes with a little smile at her clothes.
Brittany loved christmas, and every year she’d dress up in all red and white, sometimes there’d even be a little bit of green, always with a Christmas hat on her blonde head. This year it was a red skirt and a white tank top with a kitten on it. The white knee socks with fuzzy red hem was the cherry on top that almost made her look too much like the innocent girl who was about to sit on Santa’s lap in a really bad porno christmas special. Though both of them tried to ignore that fact the best they could.

  All the others had already arrived. Mackenzie was sitting on the couch with her feet on the low coffee table (both Kurt and Blaine noticed how it was one of those made of glass and iron instead of wood, and were almost tempted to bet on how quickly it was going to get trashed), Ronnie was sitting on the floor, as she so often did, leaning her back against the couch, biting her nails. Sheila was nowhere to be found, until they continued into the kitchen, where Santana and her were baking brownies. Kurt shook his head with a little smirk.

  “How subtle,” he said, looking over at the plastic bag on the counter. 

  “What?” said Santana, turning around and cocking her head a little to the side, licking brownie batter off her finger, overplaying her innocent look.

  “Party brownies?” Blaine asked, amused. “How very creative of you.”

  “I don’t like smoking it,” Santana just shrugged. “The smell of it is a bitch to clean up.” 

  “Translation,” said Sheila. “You’re not as nonchalant about everything as you pretend to be.”

  “Translation,” said Santana in the same tone. “I like my bones this way, all, you know, not broken. And if my parents come home and the place reeks with pot, that’s change.” 

  All of them already knew Santana’s parents were generous with the hits; it was simply how they raised their child.

  “So there’s not gonna be any other food than brownies?” Blaine asked, changing the subject.

  “Well, unless you’re some kind of master chef, we’re going to order pizza, like we always do.”

  “Wow, some christmas tradition.” he said sarcastically. Santana shrugged.

  “It’s food. And I get enough of well cooked dinners and whatnot during all the other days of the year, and none of us know how to cook christmas food or whatever.” It was a well enough reason, Blaine guessed, and he didn’t feel like mentioning that he knew how to cook. He wasn’t about to become that guy.

  Blaine could see on Kurt’s face that he wanted to mention Quinn, ask where she was and if she was going to join them. But he kept his mouth shut, waiting for someone else to mention it instead. No one did, and she remained unseen until their food arrived and Ronnie called her. Then she came down the stairs and joined them without a word. Blaine looked over at Kurt as subtly as he could managed, almost holding his breath. 

  Kurt’d told him about Quinn and his aunt, about how they’d kept in touch, about how she’d given Kat situation reports on Kurt and his life while he was left thinking she wasn’t even alive anymore (that on its own rattled Blaine’s mind – how had Kurt managed to draw that conclusion? How could he’ve made himself forget what had actually happened, not only to his aunt but to his father as well? He hadn’t thought it was possible to brainwash yourself, and it was a thought that felt almost scary to Blaine) Kurt’d promised to leave it alone, just as much for his own sake as he did it for Blaine and the others, and Blaine did his best to believe that he’d manage.

  The group chatted and laughed, joked and mocked, bickering and rolling their eyes at each other. Blaine felt relived how he didn’t feel at all excluded, but, of some reason, he still felt he should say something.

  “I hope I’m not trashing this or anything,” he said. “if this is a tradition of yours, and I just come barging in like this, like with the pool.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Frodo,” Santana waved off, who still didn’t think the whole hobbit thing was used just enough yet. “you’re one of the team now.” 

   The day went on, and soon it wasn’t day anymore, and the alcohol was obviously there. The friends kept talking, kept laughing, kept being silly, kept fucking with each other for laughs, ate the party brownies, became even gigglier, even sillier, and soon, even Kurt’s problems seemed gone with the wind. He felt happy, bursting with happiness, and he couldn’t give a damn if it was the brownies or the alcohol that made it so. It didn’t matter. 

  “Oh, oh, oh, guuys,” jelled Brittany, standing up and jumping on the spot. “It’s time!”

  The group cheered, lifting their bottles into the air. 

  “Time for what?” asked Blaine, his hair even more mussed than usual, a  wide, now slightly confused, grin on his face. When Quinn saw that no one else was going to answer, she nudged Blaine’s lower back with her toe, not being able to reach him in any other way.

  “It’s kind of another part of the tradition,” she explained, hoping Blaine kept up. He’d eaten quite a lot of brownies. “every year we watch The Breakfast Club, you know, the 80’s smash hit? Yeah. Every year when we’re, you know, good and ready.” 

   Drunk, and usually high, off our asses. Quinn thought. She was neither of the above this year. It didn’t matter though, she felt when she looked down on her swelling belly. She’d been a bit skeptical about spending Christmas with the gang this year, since she knew she wouldn’t be able to… participate as she usually did. Not with her child growing inside her. It almost felt weird to her  how little she minded that she was totally sober. It was really enough seeing the others being so mindlessly happy. Especially Kurt, of course. Especially Kurt, after all he’d been through. It always made her smile on the inside when she knew he was left alone for a while to just be happy. 

  When the gang of high school teenagers on the screen were running through the school, Quinn crawled around the back of the couch to Ronnie, who wasn’t screaming at the movie characters, or peeking through her fingers, as the others did. 

  “Wha’s up?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Ronnie in that ghostly kind of voice she always got when she was like this. Quinn smiled a half smile and rested her head on Ronnie’s left shoulder. Ronnie’s right one was leaning against the couch, in which, starting closest to Quinn, sat Brittany, Santana and Mackie. Mackie was, as per usual, sitting on the back of the couch with her feet where you were really supposed to sit. She was more comfortable this way, she said. Sheila sat between her legs, leaning her head lazily against Mackie’s right leg. Kurt and Blaine were sitting in the floor, almost weirdly close to be the two of them. Maybe it was because their minds were both too clouded at the moment to mind, or maybe something had finally happened between them that made them stop acting like they were only being ‘causal’, that they weren’t as in love as they actually were. 

  Quinn was sure they were in love, for real, no matter how strange that was on Kurt’s part. She could just see it. Not that they were anywhere even close to as lovely-dovly as San and Britt were, but their bond really was stronger than they seemed to realize. It made her feel a little calmer, now that she didn’t live with Kurt anymore, to know that he finally had someone. Or maybe more like, now that he’d finally realized that he had someone. The two had had each other much longer than any of them knew, for longer than Quinn knew too, up to a little while ago, when she’d just… seen it. It was even more clear now, because she knew, even though no one had said anything about it to her, she knew Blaine somehow had to do with the fact that Kurt was actually still with the living. She could… feel it, kind of, see it in Blaine’s eyes almost. Or maybe it was just her hormones. It was probably her hormones. Whatever, she decided. Things didn’t seem too bad at least. So that was good.

  Ronnie, staring intensely at her hands, hissed to Quinn: “Why do we have five fingers?”

  “I don’t know,” responded Quinn, trying her best not to laugh.

  “I mean, there’s got to be a, a reason, right?”

  This time Quinn just put and arm around the bigger girl, shaking her head, which was still resting against her shoulder. The movie was almost over, and Santana was crying – or maybe more like bawling – her eyes out, hiding her face in Brittany’s hair. She could never take the end. The second the end titles started to roll, Sheila reached her arms up in the hair, clapping her hands loudly, as she always did. Quinn mouthed the words Sheila said next, with exact and perfect timing. “We so need to get into one of those group things and do that some time!” She always said that. And Mackie always hit her in the head with a pillow, just as she did now. 

  “I’d rather make out with an eighteen-year-old than go to school on a Saturday.”

  Realizing their ‘buzz’ was starting to wear off, they all grabbed what was left of the brownies. Everyone but Quinn, of course. The one piece that was left didn’t even feel tempting to her.

   Soon, everyone was as careless and happy again, singing half the things they said, breaking out laughing about anything and everything, stopping mid-sentence to stare at something far off, just to come back with something that they seemed to think was life-changing, when in fact it was mostly something their more sober selves already knew perfectly well, or knew was total nonsense.

  “Hey, fags,” jelled Santana, who’d since long stopped crying. “Stop fucking and grab a beer. ‘T’s time for games.” Blaine looked up from the floor, where he’d been laying on top of Kurt, straddling him, making noises that none of them had seemed to notice until now. Quinn had noticed, of course, but she hadn’t said anything when the two had attacked each other the second the movie was over. They could have their fun, they were newlyweds after all.

  “We don’ want your stupid games,” said Kurt, tough he failed entirely at sounding mad or even the slightest bit irritated. In fact he could barely keep from laughing.

  “Exactly, Santana,” giggled Blaine. “we don’t want your stupid games.” Then the two were nothing but a giggling mass of hair and clothes. And within seconds, the giggling mass of hair and clothes turned into a making out mess of hair and clothes. Mackie made a gesture like she was going to barf, and Sheila, without looking at her,said, “You are such a bitter hag, M,” and grabbed her ankles, tipping her from the back of the couch down on the floor. Everyone started screaming with laughter, even Mackie, who seemed pretty unaffected by the fall. 

  “Where’re’you goin’, baby?” mumbled Brittany, already seeming sleepy. Everybody, except Kurt and Blaine, who seemed to be very much stuck in their own world still, looked up to see that Santana was half walking, half stumbling, towards the kitchen, disappeared around the corner, and returned a couple of seconds later with a huge glass of water. Quinn seemed to realize earlier than the other what she was going to do, but made no attempt to stop her. She wasn’t going to be that girl. Especially not when she was the only sober one in the room, and especially not when she didn’t even feel tempted to stop being sober. That screamed BORING loud enough at it was, she didn’t need to stop what was about to happen on top of that. Plus, she rather looked forward to seeing just what was going to happen afterwards.

  Santana came to a halt by Kurt and Blaine’s heads, and, her smirk widening, tipped the glass over their heads, making sure to get some of their clothes as well. Clothes dried slower than their faces and hair would. 

  Much like expected, both of them yelped loudly as the water connected to their skin. They entangled from each other in the matter of a second, spitting and shaking the water out of their hair. They didn’t join in with the laughter with as much as a smile.

  “Don’t look so grumpy,” giggled Santana. “it’s your fault for not listening to me.”

  “You – are such a bitch,” said both of them in union, but still they both reached for a beer. Santana brought her hands together in satisfaction.

  They all knew which game they were gonna play first. “Never Have I Ever,” said Santana, Sheila and Brittany joining in. It was something of a given, and maybe it was boring in some people’s minds, but the group played it every time they got together like this. 

  “I’ll start, I’ll start!” exclaimed Ronnie, who seemed to be coming back from her silent, thoughtful state of deepness. After she’d grabbed a beer of her own, she fell silent for a second, her face showing that she was thinking very hard on what she was going to state. “Oh,  oh, oh, I’ve got it!” she shone up then.

  “Spill,” said Mackie when she wouldn’t share, though there were none of her usual sharpness to her voice. 

  “Never have I ever…” said Ronnie, making a pause that she meant to bring some tension, not thinking about the fact that now the rest of the group’s expectations would shoot sky-high. “watched porn!” she said loudly. Everyone groaned. 

  “Really, Ronnie?” Quinn rolled her eyes. “That’s your genius idea?” Now, Quinn wasn’t going to participate, but she still felt part of the game somehow. 

  “That’s the lamest shit I have ever heard.” said Mackenzie, taking a sip of her beer. “Plus, you’ve got to say something that you’ve never done.”

  “I know.” said Ronnie, looking almost ridiculously innocent with her questioning look.

  “You’ve never watched porn?” asked Kurt.

  “No?” 

  “Ever?”

  “No, of course I haven’t?” 

  “Wow,” chuckled Kurt.

  “Wait,” said Santana pointing at Kurt dramatically. “You haven’t taken a sip yet.”

  “I’m playing the game, aren’t I?” he shrugged.

  “Not if you’re not actually participating with total honesty.” 

  “I am,”

  “You’re so not.”

  “You can’t actually expect us to believe you right now?” said Blaine, giving him a look.

  “What?” laughed Kurt. “I’ve never watched porn,”

  “Right.” 

  “I haven’t,” shrugged Kurt. “I’ve never needed to.” he added with a suggestive little smirk.

  The rest of the group groaned. Quinn knew that there was a little more to it, of course, she knew that he’d probably never had the chance, living like they had. (though he’d had a life before that, but maybe he didn’t count that as his life any more or something. Or he’d just never watched any just like he claimed he hadn’t) Like her, she hadn’t either, and she didn’t feel like she was missing anything anyway. In her mind, porn felt ridiculously overrated. 

  Realizing that she’d said that last bit out loud, the one where she didn’t feel like she was missing anything and that it was all overrated, brought a stop to the game before it’d really begun. A shitstorm happened, basically. An argument that didn’t get that serious, because they were all different levels of drunk (though that brought on another level of serious of course, a level of serious that looked ridiculous from a sober person’s eye), and the party brownies were still in effect. Ronnie didn’t participate in any of it, though. She’d grabbed the last piece of brownie and was now sitting nibbling on it. Quinn suspected that she was back in her cloud of thoughts again and left her to it. Quinn herself didn’t say much either. It was mostly Santana, Mackenzie and Kurt who got heard. The whole so called discussion felt unneeded to Quinn, and she almost felt worried that she’d become some boring old lady now when she had a child coming. Or it was just the fact that she didn’t care about porn or who watched it and who didn’t, what they thought was right and wrong and blah blah. 

  “Can you all just shut the fuck up and carry on with the game!” she said, rather loudly, to over voice the others. It was the first time she’d really made herself heard during the night, she realized, and everyone turned and started at her, almost like some of them had forgotten she was there. Ronnie remained unaffected by the outside world, now sitting studying a couple of brownie crumbs in her palm, wondering whether they had feelings or not, and what they felt about her eating them if they did. 

  “Thank you,” said Quinn, sitting back down on her feet where she’d risen to her knees. “Kurt, go next.” she said then, wanting to draw the attention away from her. Why were they looking at her like she was so weird? They all understood she couldn’t get drunk and high and whatnot now when she was pregnant, right? Suddenly she felt a little irritated, but forgot about that when she heard Kurt’s voice again.

  “Never have I ever betrayed my family.” His voice sounded completely sober, and his eyes fell directly at her when he spoke. It made her feel uncomfortable. What the hell? Not him too. She thought he’d understood why she had to stay sober at least. Or was this about her moving out? Didn’t he know she’d had to leave him like she had? Didn’t he know how much she hated it?

  The rest of the group seemed just as thrown off and almost as confused as Quinn felt; this was one of the very few times they’d ever heard Kurt said the word ‘family’. Especially with the word ‘my’ before it. The subject of Kurt Hummel’s family was something they didn’t ask about. They knew his old house had burned down, the who town knew that, to some level, as happenings were few in Lima. 

  They recovered pretty quickly, and Sheila took a sip. 

  “Guess you could call the people I’ve lived with and abandoned for different reasons my families. Though it was technically their fault for trying too hard.” she said.

  “Does it count if the family thinks you’ve betrayed them, even if you don’t?” asked Santana.

  “Whichever, whatever, doesn’t matter,” shrugged Kurt, scratching at the corners of the etiquette on his beer bottle absentmindedly. Santana shrugged and took a sip too, Mackie following her lead. Quinn continued looking at Kurt, her brow slightly furrowed, trying to read his words. Some part of her knew that that was probably not such a genius idea, trying to read into something Kurt Hummel had said, but she couldn’t help it. 

  The mood had very quickly become very gloomy, and all of them felt pretty uncomfortable about that. It was Christmas, after all, and even though their way of celebrating it wasn’t the most traditional one, it was still theirs and they wanted it to be a time where they weren’t gloomy and ill-tempered. Now even that had failed. 

  Eventually, though, Brittany succeeded to turn the night around, and soon they were back in the game again, as happy and light-minded they could all be. Though Kurt didn’t. Quinn continued looking over at him as discreetly as she could, seeing how Blaine was rubbing Kurt’s back slowly, whispering things to him every now and then, and reading their faces, it wasn’t things related to them being them at all. She had the creeping feeling it was related to her, though she tried to convince herself that that was just her hormones. She rubbed her swelling belly gently, as to calm her child even though it was her that needed calming, because she was getting a bit stressed about this. What was up with him? What had she done that made him like this?

  Every time it was Kurt’s turn to say the ‘never have I ever’, he would look just the same to everyone else, but Quinn could see the hard and cold in his eyes, even in his smile when he turned to face her. He would hint that he had issues with her every time, and it bothered her more than anything else that she wasn’t even getting irritated at him for doing it. She just felt guilty, though she had no idea what exactly she was feeling guilty about.

  When Kurt finally said, “Never have I ever,” He made a pause, staring at Quinn more openly than he had before, when the rest of the group hadn’t seem to have noticed it. Now they wouldn’t even be able to deny the obvious tension between the two even if they’d wanted to. “been in contact with a relative to a friend, while said friend was left alone thinking that said relative was dead when said relative in fact lived half an hour away from said friend, very much and completely alive.”

  That caught Quinn completely off guard. It was stupid, really, really stupid, to think that he would never, possibly find out. And it was stupid to let her eyes widen and show her surprise and slight shock for everyone in the room to see, everyone looking either puzzled, confused or very surprised, or all three. Kurt’s words had undeniably been rather confusing.

  Both of them stood up at the same time, Quinn not really knowing the reason to why she’d gotten to her feet. 

  “You pathetic fucking excuse of a friend,” Kurt spat and walked across the room without looking at the ones he left behind, leaving the door wide-open when he went outside, his jacket still on the hanger where Brittany had so neatly hung it hours earlier. There was a moment of complete silence, everyone sitting frozen on the spot, staring at either her or the open front door. Then Blaine made a move to get up, either to go after Kurt or to close the door, or both, but Quinn held her hand hand up, indicating that no, sit down, I’ll go. And she turned and walked to the front door, making sure to put on the very warm and very new winter jacket Santana’s mom had forced her to accept. ‘For the baby’, she’s said, and then Quinn hadn’t been able to deny it. Anything for her child, even if it involved accepting a probably very expensive winter jacket from a woman who’d already accepted her into her home for yet an unknown period of time.

  Quinn closed the door lightly behind her, seeing Kurt standing with his forehead rested against a tree standing in the middle of a lawn (it was a pretty weird placement of the tree, Quinn thought, and the fact that it was the only three on the lawn, with not as much as a dandelion to keep it company apart from the grass, which was now a very boring and sad looking yellowy brown. The fact that it was Christmas day and there was no sign of snow, not even the slightest bit of frost, made it look even sadder. 

  She didn’t dare to step too close to him, so she settled with a nearly two meters space of dead grass between them, then opened her mouth to speak. Then closed it, and opened it, and closed it again. What was she supposed to say? ‘I’m sorry’? No, that would be pathetic. 

  “You can hit me anywhere you want as hard as you want, as long as there won’t be a chance you’ll hurt the baby.” she said at last, after what felt like years of looking at Kurt’s back.

   There was no response of any kind. She guessed she deserved that. She had done a pretty bad thing, after all. An incredibly bad thing. 

  “When did it start?” hissed Kurt, his voice taking this low pitch that made him sound pretty damn… scary. 

  “I don’t… –” she said, her brain turning useless.

  “When did it fucking start?” he roared, spinning around, his eyes, his face, his posture, even, giving off the vibes of a wild animal. She had to be very careful. Kurt could get seriously violent when he was this angry. She’d seen it happen before, more than once. 

  “Some time after you said you didn’t want to see her face again.” she said, refusing to show Kurt how small and… scared, almost, she felt; this was the first time his rage, this level of it, had ever been turned directly at her like this. “Look, I, I know I’ll never earn your full trust again after this, and I’m not expecting you to be anything but furious with me, but please just know that I wanted to tell you.”

  “And why the fuck should I believe anything coming out of your mouth?” He kept his distance, at least, that was good. She didn’t want to think about the danger Kurt acting out his anger physically would bring to her child. She put both her hands on her belly, as to protect it from a threat that wasn’t really, one-hundred precent there. 

  “You shouldn’t.” Quinn admitted. “I’m a horrible person for doing that to you, believe me, I know that–”

  “No,” Kurt laughed. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. You don’t know that.”

  “Wha – I, of course I know that?”

  “No because if you knew how unbelievably fucked up it was to do that to me, you wouldn’t’ve. Or at least that’s what I wanna believe, because if not, you’re really not who I thought you were on any level whatsoever.”

  There was hate in his eyes. Hurt and anger and hate. Quinn didn’t know how to rect to it, and even less than that, she knew how to handle it.

  “I wanted to tell you…” she said weakly, absolutely hating just how weak she sounded. That wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t weak. But right in that moment, that was exactly how she felt. Weak and small and… evil, for what she’d done, almost as it wasn’t until now she realized just how bad it was. 

  “Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “Yeah, yeah, you wanted to. Good, then I guess it doesn’t count because for almost three years, you wanted to tell me. Bravo, Quinn, bra-fucking-vo.”

  He turned around again, facing the tree. Quinn just stood there, accepting what had just happened. She jumped a little at the sound of the door opening and a voice calling Kurt’s name. Blaine’s voice. Of course.

  “I don’t think you should go to him right now.” Quinn said, back still turned. “He might rip your lungs out through your mouth if you do.”

  “It’s not me he’s angry at.” said Blaine when he passed her, not as much as looking at her. There was an edge to his voice as well, though not nearly as sharp as Kurt’s. But it was enough for her to realize that he knew. Of course he knew. 

  ‘Of course he knew’, she tried to settle it at that, yet there was a tiny, tiny part of her that felt angry at him. Because what exactly was so special about him for Kurt to let him in so quickly? Sure, maybe it was a long time for ‘normal’ people, but for Kurt, it had happened quickly. Way more quickly than he’d let her in, that’s for sure. What had Blaine done that she hadn’t? What did he have that she hadn’t?

  Then she remembered what she’d done to him, and she understood a little better. Maybe Blaine was honest to him.

  She walked back inside and up the stairs to her room (she wasn’t sharing with Santana anymore, since she said that Quinn had started talking in her sleep), the rest of the group didn’t seem to even notice her passing them. They’d resumed their games and their talking and jelling, laughing and pranking. They’d gotten their Christmas spirits back.

  “I thought you weren’t gonna mention it tonight,” said Blaine, stopping about a foot or so from Kurt’s back, not toughing him.

  “If you really believed that, you’re stupider than you look.” muttered Kurt. “It was hard enough not to start the second I saw her.”

  “So you tried not to?”

  “Yeah, I, I guess I did,”

  “Then that’s something at least,” Blaine said, not even believing it himself.

  Kurt was shaking all over, and it wasn’t all from the cold, it seemed.

  “I can’t believe I never noticed,” he said quietly. “I mean, how did she even get in touch with her? We never had a  phone of any kind.”

  “Phone booths?” Blaine guessed. “Borrowing cellphones from random people?”

  “Yeah,” Kurt said after a second of thinking. “Yeah, guess that could be it.”

  “Hey, why don’t you come on back in, you’re gonna get sick if you stay out here,” Blaine tried after a while, being pretty sure he’d get a no.

  Kurt shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I’m gonna drive home and just… stare at the wall or something. I don’t wanna go back in there.”

  “Okay,” Blaine nodded. “Okay, that’s understandable. Just, let me go in and get your jacket,”

  “That’s okay,” Kurt shook off. “I can get it some other time.” 

  “Kurt, let me get your jacket and then I’ll come with you,” he pushed.

  There wasn’t an answer for several long seconds. “Okay,” Kurt nodded. “Okay, yeah. Just hurry up, okay?”

  Blaine’s answer was to turn and jog back up to the house, look around for a second to find Kurt’s jacket, telling the girls he and Kurt were leaving because his mom needed help and Kurt felt tired. He was pretty sure they all knew that that was a complete lie, but he couldn’t be completely sure, they were all pretty gone to anything that involved long words said by someone by the door looking serious.

  When Blaine came back outside again he immediately saw that Kurt’s old pick-up was gone. He’d already driven off, probably just agreeing about the jacket to get Blaine to leave long enough for him to be able to drive away without him.

  He couldn’t blame him, though. He understood that maybe what Kurt needed the most right now was to be left alone. The only thing that bugged him was that he’d gotten here with him, and now he’d have to walk home. Or sleep at Santana’s, which he guessed everyone else was going to do.

Blaine slept in an armchair in Santana’s living room that night, with Mackenzie and Sheila on the couch and Ronnie on the floor (she had a weird sort of connection to the floor and ground; when she could, she rather didn’t sit on a chair or on a bench or whatnot, saying she liked it better on the floor), but unlike the others, he hadn’t passed out. He was completely contempt with it, and even with Sheila’s terrible snoring, he actually managed a couple of hours sleep, only waking up from nightmares thrice. The next day, he was even spared the level of hangover the others suffered. 

  “You know,” he said to Sheila where she sat whining and grunting with a bottle of cold water clutched in her hands. “it you hate hangovers so much, you should really consider drinking less.”

  “Said the tiger to the lion,” she muttered back, giving him the finger.

  Brittany had been spared a hangover completely, as she so often was, somehow. She was the one who’d woken them all up, as she hummed in the kitchen, frying eggs and bacon. They’d all started jelling at her almost the same second. That smell… it was so not appreciated by the others in that moment. Mackie actually threw up in the sink on top of the still slightly sputtering food, after she’d run up to throw it in there. Brittany had given her a highly disapproving look and settled for cereal instead, eating it with a pout on her face. 

  Her girlfriend was an entirely different matter. Santana Lopez did not look pretty when she came stumbling down the stairs with a sheet wrapped around her, waking up almost three hours later than everyone else.

  “Ughhhhhh,” she groaned and bent down to drink water directly from the tap, regretting it afterwards as it had involved turing her head in various angles, making her headache ten times less enjoyable.

  Casting a wondrous yet slightly disgusted, but still a tiny bit jealous, look at Brittany, who seemed perfectly fine, she dragged herself to the living room to join the rest of them.

  “Wonderful day, is it not?” mused Blaine, but even though his hangover wasn’t bad, it still made him want to throw himself off a cliff. Or sleep for a couple of years.

  “Fuck off.” muttered Santana, gesturing for Sheila and Mackie to make room for her on the couch. The two girls scooted closer together and Santana sad down with a heavy groan, put her feet up on the table (it had survived!) and did not care in the slightest that the sheet had slid down when she’d sat down, showing that she was very much naked.

  “Jesus, woman,” Blaine said in a pretend irritated voice, a pretend-look of disgust on his face. Santana managed a half smirk, then took on the impossible quest to try to sort out her incredibly tangled hair. 

  The rest of the day continued like this. None of them really moved or talked at all, apart from going to the bathroom and refilling water glasses and bottles. Then there was the occasional complaint, which was followed by at least two other people in the room agreeing. Every attempt made for more conversation than that, and they could be counted on one hand, fell apart after about fifteen seconds. Brittany took the opportunity to continue reading The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, this being the fourth time for her. Blaine spent some time wondering how someone like Brittany could get through such a book not only once but four times, even though that was probably a very insulting thing to do. But he had to wonder, and it wasn’t like he’d never insulted anyone before, anyway.

  It wasn’t until some time past 3PM until Blaine even had the energy to think of getting home. But the thought that his mom had already been left alone for Christmas made him get up and leave. He could almost hear the inspiring, rising music as he walked out the door, with the other’s eyes on him, wondering both how he could do it, and why he did it.

  His mother hadn’t spent Christmas alone, it turned out when he came home panting, with red nose and cheeks, his head feeling like it was going to cave in from the aches. 

  Marcie was actually quite happy and normal, though looking very tired and… thin, more figuratively than literally.  She told him how she’d been invited over to the Smythes, and had spent last evening at their house, talking and eating (“I’ve never eaten so many strange things before! They’re really experimental with the food!” she told him, eyes almost sparkling) and having a really good time. It warmed his heart to hear her tell him about all the nice things they’d done and talked about, how good the food had been, even if it’d been some unusual things being served, and so on. It was good to know that she had them, the Smythe family. But most of all, it felt wonderful to know that she’d managed perfectly without him.

  “You’ve got no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he said, and widened his eyes in surprise when Marcie leaned across the couch and hugged him closely.

  “I’m glad you could get away from me for a while, too.” she said.

  “No, I –” Blaine said, shaking his head. “No, that’s not at all what I meant, I,”

  Marcie just shook her head, and actually laughed a little. “Don’t worry about it, Blainey,” she said. “Don’t you think I know how much you’d like it if you could go on with your life without always having to keep me in mind?”

  Blaine opened his mouth to protest, but she just shook her head again. “Don’t lie to me.” she said, and even though her voice was stern, it was genuine at the same time. And Blaine couldn’t have responded then even if he wanted to, because he was so taken aback by how… normal she seemed. She almost seemed like a normal, healthy, mother, and it’d been so long since that’d last happened.

  “I’m gonna go over to them and thank them,” Blaine said, standing up. “Have you eaten?”

  Marcie nodded. “Leila sent a mountain of leftovers with me when I went home. There’s enough to feed me for the rest of the year.

  “Well,” said Blaine from the hall, putting his jacket back on. “the year’s almost over.”

  It really was, he thought as he walked across the street, setting his eyes on the house three houses away across from his. 

  The year was almost over, and a ridiculous amount of New had entered his life these three months and a couple of days. So much New, he’d forgotten about–

  “Anderson,” said Sebastian Smythe when he opened the door, letting a chilly wind enter the warm house. 

  What. Said Blaine in his mind. It wasn’t even a question, somehow. Just, what. 

  “Smythe,” he responded, hiding the chaos in his head. 

  Shitshitshit I’ve totally forgotten about him how have I totally forgotten about him when did I last talk to him I haven’t even told him about Kurt or at least not that we’re boyfriends fuckfuckfuck how the hell am I supposed to handle this – It went on and on, making very little sense and moving very quickly. 

  “Is Leila in?” he asked.

  “Nope,”

  “Mr. Smythe, then?” He was, of some reason, only on first-name basis with Leila, but not Mr. Smythe. He wasn’t really sure how that’d happened, but didn’t really care either. 

  “Nope,” Sebastian repeated. 

  “Seems like it’s just the two of us then.” Blaine said totally without thinking about the fact that Sebastian was going to take that not at all like he’d meant it to be taken. Not that he knew how he’d meant it to be taken. It’d just kinda… slipped out.

  And, sure enough, within about two seconds, Blaine was inside, pressed against the now closed door, Sebastian’s thigh already pressing lightly against his crotch. It took him yet another four-or-so seconds to stop himself from kissing him back. Old habits die hard, or whatever it was they said.

  “Sebastian,” Blaine said, though it came out rather more like a gasp. Sebastian gave him a confused look, glancing down at Blaine’s hands, both on his shoulders, pushing him back.

  “What?” he said with a half smile.

  “We, uh, need to talk, I guess,” replied Blaine, hearing himself how weird it must’ve sounded in the other’s ears. One of the reasons to why they had agreed to keep their relationship the way it was, or had been, now,  was to avoid the sentence ‘we need to talk’. Neither of them appreciated it, though, as of late, Blaine had gotten pretty used to both hearing it and saying it, in various different forms and situations.

  “O – kay?” said Sebastian in confusion, standing back and straightening up. He was almost a head taller than Blaine, though Blaine had always, or at least almost always, been the… dominant one of the two in their so called relationship. 

  “What’s up?” he asked, looking over at Blaine, who’d taken a seat on the armrest of one of the armchairs, Sebastian settling down on the couch.

  “Um, well,” started Blaine, not feeling exactly tempted to tell Sebastian that’d he’d practically forgotten about him. “Actually, I was just gonna come over here to thank your parents about having my mom over and stuff,”

  Sebastian nodded, not seeming thrilled by the fact that Blaine, now when he’d finally showed his face again, hadn’t actually done it with him in mind. “Well, they’re not here right now. Errands and stuff that had to be done,” he explained.

  “Yeah…” Blaine didn’t at all like how awkward he felt, sitting there in a room he’d been naked in, though most of the time only partly, more than once. He wasn’t sure if it was that fact that made him feel awkward, or if it was related to the whole situation with having to tell Sebastian about… stuff.

  “Well, basically,” he started again, giving up on trying to make it through this in a smooth and laid-back, totally logic and it’s-not-your-fault-or-anything kind of way. “basically we can’t continue this thing we’ve had going on between us for quite some time now because I’m in a relationship. An – actual one, I mean.”

  “You…” Sebastian said, his expression completely impossible to read. “have a boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Blaine said, his posture weirdly stiff and puffed-up as he nodded once.

  “Blaine Anderson,” And a smile started to grow on his lips. “do you really expect me to believe that? I mean, for a second there I did actually almost fall for it but, come on, really?”

  Fuck. Well, this didn’t simplify the situation. Not that it came from nowhere, but, still. 

  “No really,” he said. “I have a boyfriend.”

  “Stop or I’m gonna start laughing,” said Sebastian, his grin growing wider. He leaned back and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

  “I’m serious, though,” What the heck was he supposed to say to get Sebastian to take him seriously this time? (the ‘this time’ coming from the fact that the ‘I have a boyfriend’ thing was something of a running joke of sorts between the two of them. A running thing at least. It wasn’t usually, if not never, carried out with this much seriousness and so on, but to Sebastian it still seemed like one of those times where they tried to ‘win’, by getting the other to believe that they actually had a boyfriend. All this had somehow escaped Blaine’s mind, until now)

  “You’re a really bad liar.” Sebastian mused.

  “I’m not lying.” Blaine said. He made a gesture with his hands, then he let them fall hopelessly with a loud groan. Fucking hell.

  Sebastian looked at him through his lashes. “Now for how much longer are you gonna make me wait?” he said with a little smirk.

  “Okay, fuck this,” said Blaine. “This is the truth and I’m not lying –” He paused for a second. That wasn’t the brightest thing he’d ever said. “Whatever, you know what I mean – The point is that I actually am in a relationship right now and I will not be engaging in any physical matters with you anymore.” Maybe he was making the wrong choice of words. Maybe he shouldn’t seem so honorable and stuff, maybe it just enhanced Sebastian’s belief that this was all just Blaine trying to win the round.

  “I’m gettin‘ real impatient over here,” was the only response he got.

  “Yeah,” Blaine rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

  When Sebastian’s bedroom eyes were enhanced by about a hundred times and he started stroking the inside of his own thigh, in a way of teasing, Blaine assumed, and at the same time he noticed that he didn’t at all get affected by it, knowing that he previously had. It made him frustrated though.

  “Oh, for christ’s sake, Sebastian. I’m not gonna fuck you, I’m in love with someone else,”

  This surprised both of them. Blaine, because he hadn’t really meant to tell him that, and because that was also the first time he’d told anyone that out loud; and Sebastian because none of them had ever gone as far in the ‘game ‘as to say they were actually in love with someone.

  “Oh, fuck me,” Sebastian said in an astonished kind of sigh. “You’re actually serious?”

  “Yes,” Blaine said in a sigh of his own, though it wasn’t astonished but kind-of-almost mixed with a chuckle, both out of a sort of relief that he’d finally gotten through to him, but also in a sort of ‘shit, I actually am’ sort of way. 

  “Who?” And again Blaine had no way of reading his face or eyes. It was really a contrast from Kurt, the to him Open Book.

  “Uh,” he said and let out a short little chuckle, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. “Kurt,”

  “Kurt? Kurt Hummel?” Sebastian straightened his posture. 

  “Yeah,”

  “Him?”

  “Mm-hm,” And Blaine could actually hear how weird that must’ve sounded. Kurt Hummel wasn’t the relationship type. Everybody knew that. At least everybody that went to Scandals or hung around people who did. And Sebastian also knew Blaine’s empty history of actual, official, relationships. The two of them didn’t really seem like a likely coupling for an outsider, he was sure. It hadn’t to them either at the beginning, so he couldn’t blame Sebastian for his reaction. 

  “Blaine Anderson is in a relationship with Kurt Hummel, the Kurt Hummel, if I might add?”

  Blaine nodded, a tiny smile on his lips.

  “And you’re in love with him?”

  “I, uh,” Suddenly he didn’t feel like talking with him anymore at all. Why had he asked that? He didn’t want to talk to him about that. “Yeah.” he said anyway. 

  “And he knows this?” What had happened to the conversation?

  “Yeah,” was the only thing Blaine could manage, even though the thing he really wanted to do was snap at Sebastian to back the fuck off.

  “And he said it back?”

  Okay, no. No, no no no no. He was not going to have this conversation with this guy anymore.

  “Time to back off, Smythe,” Blaine said in an end-of-conversation sort of way. Sebastian went on anyway.

  “He didn’t,” he said with a nod. “Awkward…”

  “Okay, fuck you, Sebastian. You don’t know him and you don’t know anything about our relationship whatsoever, so back off and just… back off.”

  “How do you know he really likes you then?”

  “What the fuck, Sebastian?” Blaine said in a rather loud voice.

  “Hey, only lookin’ out for you,” Sebastian replied calmly, and suddenly it felt like Blaine didn’t know him at all. And maybe he really didn’t. Conversation hadn’t been the thing they’d done most during the time spent together. Not getting-to-know-each-other conversation anyway.

  Blaine walked out of there without a word, his only response being an angry shake of his head and the sort of gesture with his hands that said ‘go away’ or ‘whatever’ when he’d turned around to leave. 

  He was not going to talk about his boyfriend with Sebastian Smythe. Not now, not ever. Not even when he’d actually sorted out what ‘boyfriend’ and ‘being boyfriends’ meant. 

Kurt didn’t leave the apartment until New Years Eve, and he appreciated that Blaine had left him alone without a question. They seemed to be getting better and better at knowing what to do and not do, say and not say. It was a nice thing, and it was even nicer to notice it happening. He hadn’t ever really noticed it happening with Quinn, but he shoved that thought away because the whole subject of Quinn made him want to scream. 

  At 6PM, Kurt had washed up (wiping his body with a wet handkerchief since getting into the freezing shower was extremely uninviting, especially with the night ahead), put on a new set of clothes and was driving towards Blaine’s house. They’d agreed in the car ride to Santana’s house for the whole Christmas thing that he was going to pick him up at his house around six, and so that was exactly what happened

  “You think you’ll be able to keep from murdering her for just a couple of more hours?” asked Blaine once they’d arrived at the parking lot outside Sheila’s pool, joking.

  Kurt pretended to think for a while. “Hard to say,”

  “Oh, come on, Kurtie, you wouldn’t want to ruin the holidays, would you?”

  “Don’t,” Kurt said, jumping in from of him and poking a finger hard in his chest. “ever call me Kurtie again or I won’t as much as touch you until April.”

  “You honestly think I’d believe that?” Blaine rolled his eyes with a smile and they started walking again. “You wouldn’t be able to swear off sex even if your life depended on it.”

  “Touché,” said Kurt with a little grin, knowing full well Blaine was one-hundred percent correct.

  Quinn hadn’t come, the both saw when they stepped through the metal gate-of-sorts to the other side of the high wooden fences erected around the outdoors back pool.

  “She wasn’t feeling well,” Santana said when Blaine asked. “Plus, she didn’t feel too eager spending the night outside with the rest of us, since, as far as I know, we’re not exactly gonna stay sober.”

  Kurt and Blaine both stopped and thought of the fact that their livers must really hate them, especially Kurt, with his history, and more than probable future. It’d be a miracle if he’d be able to carry on like this and live past 30. Though he probably wouldn’t either wa–

  He stopped himself and looked over at Blaine. That stupid idiotic, supposed bad boy. The musically gifted hobbit. The person whom he’d hated with a passion, and had now stolen his heart. He wondered how that’d happened. It sure as hell hadn’t been planned. 

  Everyone but Kurt’d brought something to the pool; Santana and Mackenzie had brought a shit-ton of beer (just beer, the more fancy stuff was used for Christmas), Sheila had brought a battery driven CD player (an actual player, not an iPod with speakers), Brittany had brought five-trips-to-the-car worth of pillows, blankets and warm, comfy clothes, Ronnie had brought four kilos of candy (in lack of anything better, Kurt guessed), and Blaine brought leftover Christmas food from the Smythes (Leila had been over for another turn of food, since when Mr. Smythes parents had come over, they’d brought leftovers of their own, and since they already had so much, Leila gave even more food to Marcie and Blaine instead) that would do just fine being eaten cold. 

  Kurt was supposed to bring his guitar as he usually did, but since it’d faced a terrible death, that was made impossible. The gap it left made him regret and hate the fact that he’d destroyed it even more than he already did.

  New Years Eve, one could say, were celebrated more by the William McKinley Skanks. There were always leftover Christmas food (usually everyone that had access to it brought some along, but Blaine had assured them that he had it covered, which he really did), there were much more preparations and… devotion, since that’s really what it takes to celebrate New Years entirely outside. And then there were the songs and the food that was really nice even though it was cold, the egging everyone else on to jump into the pool, and, if there were more than one who did, the competition of who could stay in the longest. There were more to it than there was to their Christmas, with the movie and pizza, games, and the mandatory alcohol (often with at least one ‘fancier’ liquor), and sometimes, like this year, party brownies. Though that was nice too, of course.

  It was colder than it usually was this year, and Ronnie broke her I’m-staying-at-least-almost-sober promise after about half an hour, as she thought that it’d be easier to endure it if her mind was dulled. None of them drank more than two beers before the food though, since they wanted to be able to eat that with tastebuds still normal. There were more to choose from than it usually were, and more to eat of everything than usual. Ham and meatballs, mini sausages and vegetarian, and even a couple of vegan patties and gluten-free bread (Sebastian’s father had a sensible stomach, and Mrs. Smythe – Sebastian’s grandmother on his father’s side, not Leila – had sworn off anything coming from animals after a documentary she’d seen on some TV channel that’d given her braincells again. Though that promise got broken before March had even gotten the chance to get excited about being active again.), potatoes and cold sauces, some kind of bean-and-paprika salad that looked suspicious and was awfully spicy, fried mushrooms and tomatoes, all kinds of things. It definitely wasn’t the traditional Christmas foods. Even Blaine was surprised to see, and taste, the different foods in more detail; he’d had no idea that the Smythe’s were so open minded food-wise, especially Christmas-food-wise, even after what his mother had said. And he’d really not expected Mr. Smythe’s parents to have an even broader food-horizon; he’d seen them had exchanged a couple of words with them. They’d seemed very up-tight and traditional to him. Though that could’ve been because they’d walked in on him and Sebastian in bed, and even though they were clothed from the waist down, maybe it wasn’t the best possible first expression. 

  “I,” declared Blaine once the food was all but gone, only a couple of meatballs and mini sausages remaining, “think it’s time.”

  “Time for what?” said Kurt, mouth full of three of the before-remaining meatballs. It seemed, to his mild frustration, that he was the only one in the group who had no idea what Blaine was talking about. 

  Santana stood up, and when something between a grin and a smile reached her lips, Kurt gulped down the meat with a sudden realization of,

  “You’re not going to throw me in there,” he said sternly. Throwing each other into the pool was something they swore not to do every year, but always happened anyway.

  “If we were we wouldn’t be this obvious about it, meathead,” said Santana with a little roll of her eyes. “Sheila,” she said then and Kurt immediately leaned his upper body so he could get a better look of Sheila, who’d gotten pretty much entirely out of view when Santana had stood up.

  “What’s going on?” he mouthed to Blaine, who just shook his head with that kind of smile on his face that you got when you knew something big that someone else didn’t. Kurt stuck out his tongue at him before turning back to face Santana. Suddenly, there was a big something covered with a green-and-orange-striped blanket. 

  Kurt got almost giddy with anticipation, almost like a child on Christmas morning.

  “Here ya go,” said Santana in a voice that was completely unlike her, the look in her eye and on her face making it all even more out of character and weird, and lowered the blanket wrapped box for Kurt to take. Grabbing it, he put down his feet on the ground and put the box on his lap, surprised by the weight. 

  What?

  He looked around at the rest of them. Their faces all looked the same, excited and almost bursting out in screams, urging him to open it now now now, and all trying to hide it. Everyone but Brittany of course. She was sitting on her hands, bouncing up and down.

  “Come on already, open it,” she said. “Open it, open it, open it, open –”

  “Okay, okay,” said Kurt, a little laugh escaping him. This was so weird.

  With a final second of hesitation, he reached out and grabbed the hideous blanket, unfolded it and let it slump down over his legs, a part of it still under the underside of the paper box. It was plain, not giving away anything but that fact that this was a… a gift. Unless this was all a prank of course, but, judging from the other’s faces, it probably wasn’t. 

  With what is this and what could it be what is this and what could it be what is this and what could it be? ringing through his head, he lifted off the lid, and upon seeing what was inside, he let it fall to the ground (or, the bench in front and kind-of beneath him, since they were sitting on the bleachers).

  A guitar.

  A guitar.

  A guitar, a fucking guitar! 

  It looked almost exactly like his old one, except this one looked entirely, expensively, splendidly new.

  “What are…Are you guys serious right now…?” he asked, face showing just how blank and full his mind was at the moment. Ronnie and Sheila laughed, Brittany clapped her hands, Santana grinned and Mackie smirked widely. Blaine’s smile was wide, and that warmness and happiness in his eyes made Kurt feel even giddier. It was a weird moment for Kurt, he wasn’t use to feeling giddy. And now he was, almost to the point that would endanger his life, he felt like. 

  “We all helped pay for it.” Blaine said. All Kurt could do was turn and look at him with his mouth hanging open stupidly.

  How was he supposed to react? What the hell was he supposed to do with his face? And talking? What even was that? 

  Kurt tried to find words, but all that came out were noises, noises that just made the people around him even more satisfied and happy. They usually never gave each other presets, since money wasn’t anything any of them really had (except Santana, but they’d all agreed that that was all fine, since they came and stayed at her house for different reasons quite often. Most of their parties were hosted there, for example, and that was enough for them), Brittany didn’t seem to care though, and since her family had money, while not as much as Santana’s, she liked giving them small things for christmas, if only just a chocolate bar or a CD she’d made herself. It was one of those things that she just did and that they’d stopped questioning, everyone secretly really liking and appreciating it. But this year she’d spent the money on her share of payment for the guitar.

  “When did–?” Kurt managed at last.

  “Well,” said Santana, sitting down again. “Just some days ago, Frodo here told us how some nutjob had gone into you house and stolen your guitar, thinking  it’d be of any worth, and, yeah.”

  Kurt looked over at Blaine, trying to show him how much he appreciated that lie, and Blaine gave him a tiny little smile that only he saw. “Then I persuaded and convinced them all to help me pay for a new one, and after a while they all agreed because they secretly love you very much.”

  Half of the girls groaned and rolled their eyes at him, and Blaine put his hand in front of his mouth and widened his eyes in an overdone ‘oops’ gesture. Kurt gently and carefully put the box on the bench above him, so that it wouldn’t risk falling out and getting hurt, then met Blaine halfway in a hug.

  “Thank you,” Kurt whispered in his ear.

  “Of course,” Blaine said back, hugging him a little closer. When they broke a part a little, they only did it far enough to be able to kiss, bringing both choking noises and hollers from the girls. Blaine, since Kurt had his back turned from them, gave them the finger before taking a gentle hold of Kurt’s head, angling both his and his own head at the same time and opening his lips at Kurt’s request. Blaine felt Kurt’s lips smile against his own, and for a little moment there, it all seemed so perfectly okay. 

  “Anything for you, my darlin’,” Blaine said in a deep voice, barely able to keep from laughing. Kurt smacked him playfully on the head and turned his attention back to the group, where they’d stopped paying attention to their stupid relationship acts. For a moment he thought of the fact that maybe now him and Blaine were The couple, and not Santana and Brittany, and how super weird that was. Then he looked over at the two girls, and saw Brittany with her head on Santana’s shoulder, playing with a string of her girlfriend’s almost-black hair. It appeared they were, on top of that, sharing a beer. 

  So Kurt decided that no, those stupid dykes were still The couple of the group. And he wanted it to stay that way, because if they ever turned into that, with all the soft words and constant physical contact, the warm looks, cute little pecks and so-often-said ‘I love you’s’, neither of them would be the person they fell for, and they wouldn’t actually be them anymore.

  Kurt looked over at the person who’d somehow managed to get under his skin and make him believe again, the person who’d, in some way, brightened his existence, and he couldn’t help but smile. Then, to return from the clouds, reached for two beers and handed one to Blaine, and they both joined the conversation. Or conversations, since there were rarely only one thing being talked about in their odd little group of friends. 

  At around 11 o’clock, Kurt tried out his new guitar for the first time. It felt so strange in his arms, with its new strings and wood, the neck feeling unaccustomed in his hand. But it was a guitar, and his friends had bought it for him. He knew full well Quinn had helped with whatever little she could’ve found to pay, and he almost felt thankful to her too, as they all sang together into the night, very badly and off-tune, words slurred and interrupted by laughter every now and then. It happened, way more than once, that they couldn’t agree on which song to play and sing, so they all sang whatever came to mind. When that happened, you understood nothing, could only hear a word here and there, as they all tried to over voice each other and make their song heard the most, making everyone laugh. It was maybe one of their most important tradition. They were all the same there, in that group, in those moments more than ever, and it was all okay, if only for just a couple of hours. Things were okay. Things were good.

  When the clock turned fifteen to midnight, Sheila turned off the CD player that’d once again been turned on, after their throats had grown soar and Kurt’s fingers stiff with cold, then she ran away ( her legs a little stiff), disappearing out of view for a while, only to come back a couple of moments later, after having shut off the spotlights that had given them light before. Then they all huddled up fairly close, as close as it came for the Skanks, with blankets wrapped around them (Mackenzie shuddering more than any of the others, her hair in damp stripes down her chest; she’d been this year’s pool offer), watching the sky as it started to bloom with fireworks. The night was much colder now than it it’d been when they’d first arrived, but the warm clothes and the bodies of their friends kept them fairly warm.

  Kurt and Blaine were sitting on a big pillow with two blankets wrapped tightly around them, close, close together, and not only to be able to fit on the the pillow that kept their butts warm. They weren’t as drunk as the others were, had somehow both made the decision to not drink too much. They were both pretty tipsy though, enough to make them giggly and unbothered by the world and their minds. Tipsy enough to believe that the happiness and warmth they felt would last forever, while their sober selves would never believe such a thing in a million years. 

  Kurt had his head on Blaine’s shoulder, and he breathed in deep breathes, dragging in lungfuls of Blaine’s scent, that wonderful scent that somehow made him feel so calm and safe. Blaine’s right and Kurt’s left hand were clasped in between their laps, their fingers brushing over each other randomly at times. There were dazed smiles on both their faces, and they weren’t participating in any of the conversation that was still going while they watched the sky, nor did they join in with the ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ that were uttered every now and then when a particularly beautiful firework would light up the sky. Sometimes they would start to giggle in an absent sort of way, and Kurt’s breathe would brush over Blaine’s collarbone, making him shiver with happiness.

  Then the clock turned twelve, and the sky got brighter with more colors and the booms got louder and at least doubled in numbers. Santana and Brittany shared their New Year kiss, but Blaine and Kurt only hugged each other closer. There were no need for a kiss. Not right now. There were more ways to express their bond, and in that moment more than any, they knew that, and the alcohol in their bodies made it even easier to let themselves.

  “Thank you,” Blaine whispered, looking deep into his eyes.

  “Thank you,” said Kurt, meeting his gaze without hesitation.

   Things were okay.

  If only for a couple of hours, things were good.