It was cold; still it wasn't easy to find the courage to look away from that house. It was just like when you've seen a corpse and you cannot rewind and pretend not to have seen it. It will always be there just at the corner of your eye, printed in your memory like fire ink. That house. Everything started there, Blaine. Your end, the flood, the ground, as you call it. How I wish everything happened like in the movies and stopped all of this before it was too late. But I didn't even if I could.

I quickly rewinded the tape, my fingers numb from the cold and then I extracted it, my hands shaking as I turned it, inserting it on the side with the bright number two scribbled on it. Sam Evans was the subject, the tall, muscled blonde who hid his goofiness in a football player facade.

It had always been sad and pathetic, but it seemed like I was the only one who noticed it.

The rest of the world adored him.

I wondered what he could have done to Blaine, besides pressing that button obviously.

Well, I was probably going to find out really soon.

Play.

It is revealing to be more fun than I thought. Explain you all, I mean. I could not do it, I could just leave but that's not how it works. I'm sorry. Where was I?

He paused and I heard the noise of crumpled up paper sheets while trying to be uncurled. A thoughtful muttering in the background.

Ah, found it! Sam Evans. I apologize, but you really are a lot and I end up just forgetting things.

Well, I guess soon it won't be a problem anymore.

Sam, right, let's just head back to you. This side of the tape is all yours. Almost.

After the phone episode I didn't talk to you for weeks – even though you were trying to fix everything - you kept sending me texts, leaving notes on my locker but there hasn't been a time when you talked to me in person. Speaking to me dragged you to the outcasts, so why worry so much in the end? It was better to enjoy popularity. Yes, you were right, but people didn't know about you. Oh, I perfectly know that know you know what I'm going to talk about. Sure, you were afraid I came out with this, weren't you? I know I didn't want that conversation to be heard by the whole school too, but… Still, this tape is not for revenge, Sam, really, I don't hold a grudge on you. I swear.

He laughed melancholy but it wasn't funny, really. I was curious but, at the same time, I hated the idea of not having realized earlier, what an asshole I was.

Before I continue I want you to go to the Lima Bean, I guess you've probably already been there at least one time anyway; it's practically like the Church for old people. Everyone goes there. In case you're suffering from a loss of memory it's in the F-1 zone and you can go there by any bus since it's close to the station.

Lima Bean? He really wanted me to listen to his voice at a table, sipping coffee and glancing at the other customers' faces that'd look at me not understanding why I had that dead look on my face? Oh no, sorry, Blaine. I didn't want to think that word. I don't want to think you are the dead one.

I turned around and started walking to the bus stop I had noticed at the beginning of Sunday Street. The air was really brisk and – since it was late evening by now – people had already returned from work and burrowed inside their houses while I was still listening to a boys personal epitaph, a boy everyone said to be weird but that had nothing wrong. And I knew it really well after that party, but earlier as well.

My jeans had stiffened from the cold and it felt like I was going to rip them at every step I took. Above all this I felt the bite of ice on my face and shoulders. My coat wasn't exactly warm enough but it was the only thing that could manage to contain all those tapes that I had to listen to. I arrived at the bus stop – where I had to wait more or less ten minutes for the 27 to pick me up – so I sat on the sidewalk breathing into my hands to warn them up without real results. So I kept listening during my waiting.

Still I didn't expect entering the male changing room to be a mistake – yes, yes I was distracted because of all the pushes given to me – to see you pressed against the lockers by Noah Puckerman. I would have never said it could happen to you, Sam. I thought I was high, I stood by the door with the strong feeling that I needed to punch you and run away. Because you were kissing a boy, because you made me out myself in front of the whole school – willing or not – and you didn't even come looking for me to confess that maybe youwere in the same situation as I was. You know how easier it would have been to confront it together? Being there for each other? I still don't understand how you could keep it from me. We were friends. Neighbors. When I had just arrived in town you suddenly introduced yourself and showed me around the area. You introduced me to your friends and for the whole summer we had always been at one or the other's house. It was all I could ever ask in a friendship but at least I thought you were sincere. Right when I was having doubts on my sexual orientation I had told you, but it looked like you weren't of the same idea.

Pause.

I swallowed hard. Sam Evans and Noah Puckerman? Two of the most popular kids of the entire school? And no one ever noticed it. I suddenly realized why those tapes managed to come to me: nobody had had the courage to break the rules and destroy them due to the fear that their secrets could become of public domain. We didn't know how, we just knew it would happen and that we couldn't risk. For a few instants I feared for myself.

The bus appeared on the street so I stood up putting out my hand to make it stop. When the driver pulled the brakes right in front of me a bitter gust of wind hit me causing me to shiver as I entered the mode of transport. The doors squeaked as they opened but a hot wave slipped from inside them so I rushed inside, collecting the ticket from the machine. Luckily, I dare to say.

The driver observed me for a long time, maybe I was so pale that I looked like a bad guy. But was a bad guy actually pale? Then, he decided not to mind, hitting the pedal, since I was just one of the two passengers of the bus. The other one was a boy I knew from school and I was almost sure he was Mike Chang; I definitely didn't know what he was doing on a bus at that hour. But on the other hand he was probably wondering the same thing about me, so...

Play.

I remember you heard the door opening and you turned around. Then you saw me and your jaw fell in a guilty expression. You knew why I hated you in that moment. I don't hate you anymore, there is no reason to now, but in that exact second I felt so betrayed that I really didn't care about the fact that you were hiding too. Puckerman tried to stop you while you started running after me, I heard him calling your name. You then explained to me in a note that nobody should know you two were there, that it was just thanks to a deal with a janitor who owed you a favor that you could stay in there. At that time no student was allowed in those rooms, in fact they should have been locked. I wonder why I stumbled up right there; why when I tried to open that door it should have been locked. If that didn't happen maybe I would have never found out.

I ran away, I reached the security exit facing the courtyard and I left. I wonder what all those students thought of you rushing after me. On the other hand it was impossible for them to think worse of me, so whatever. I went home from school that day and you followed me. You left everything just to explain things to me. I thought you were being nice, but maybe you just felt guilty. I ended up sheltering at the Lima Bean – which stood just a block away – and you came with me. I sat and you just sat on the chair opposite me whilst I tried not to look at you and forget your presence.

"I can explain." You said but honestly explanations where the last thing I needed, Sam, the last.

We reached my stop, the one in front of the Lima Bean. I pressed the stop button and went down, continuing to hear Blaine's voice becoming increasingly tired from the headphones.

"Puck and I…" you said, but you definitely started in the wrong way.

"Why don't we talk about you and me, Sam, uh? Why don't we start from the fact that, on the contrary to me, you haven't said a word about it?"

Maybe it was just me seeing things in the wrong way but how could it be that after a whole summer constantly together it didn't mean a thing to you?

Or at least that was what I thought. Maybe I was wrong. You tell me, Sam. Oh, No, wait you can't.

"I tried to tell you." You muttered.

"When? After you had made the school aware of what I had told you with a lot of… pain?" I asked, trying not to look you in the eyes because I really felt betrayed, Sam. You were popular, had a boyfriend – or something like that – and no one ever pushed you against the lockers, because no one knew. But I, thanks to you, hadn't been so lucky and no one would have ever dreamed of being with me seeing the dangers he would have faced, and I understood them.

High school reputation is one of the most important things ever to an adolescent. What everyone kept forgetting is that… it was for me too.

I would have gone out with you, Blaine; I would have gone out with you a thousand times. I just hadn't enough self-confidence to ask you. Anyway I had the bad feeling that you would have refused.

"It was… hard." You answered.

"So was it for me." I explained, thinking that you would understand but what did you have to understand then? There was nothing to understand.

"I know but… it didn't happened purposely. I realized I felt something for Noah and..."

"I don't care, Sam, Really. I'm happy for you, somewhere inside me. I was alone. And I still am. Because of you and because of me and because of Santana and because of the world, I guess. I don't know, I'm sorry I… I thought we were friends." I whispered and I was about to get up but you grabbed my wrist.

"Sooner or later I'll get you out of this shit, man, I promise you." You told me, and I nodded so that you would let me go. But I believed you even if just a bit. You didn't keep your promise, Sam.

Pause.

I entered the Lima Bean – they remained open until 11 PM – so I still had time to process it all. I knew it would take more than a lifetime. The girl at the cash desk was Tina Cohen-Chang, she was Asian and I had exchanged a few words during carpentry. She had been nice but I was sure there was something else behind the façade.

I approached the desk, hands trembling. I ordered something randomly so I didn't look like an imbecile unable to read.

My eyes fell on a Medium Drip I didn't have the slightest idea of what the hell it was. I just needed to remove from my head Blaine's words, the sense of absolute injustice they had left in me and I didn't dare to think how it could be for him. How hard was it to have to cope with all those things, Blaine? Why did everyone think time would pass and you would forget?
Tina looked at me with her eyes wide and inspired as if she wanted to say something, but then her shoulders lowered and she rushed to prepare what I had ordered.

Why was everyone so selfish? That thought kept burning through my brain.

Tina handed me my coffee in the thermic carton glass and I sniffed the strong smell. There was nobody in the bar – probably because it was definitely too late – so I decided that, even if I wasn't willing to do so, maybe talking to Tina would distract me from all that guiltiness and frustration.

"Hey." I greeted her after some good ten minutes that I was there. She lifted her glance from the cash machine and looked honestly sad.

"Kurt." She whispered, torturing her fingers. Why was she so nervous? Tina had always been one of the smiling and sweet girls, that painful expression looked so weird on her. The coffee machine beeped, evidence that it was ready.
"How're you doing?" I asked, attempting to be nice, but talking wasn't really helping as much as I thought.
"I'm so, so sorry Kurt…" she whispered, and then her hands rushed to cover her mouth as if something unforgivable had slipped from her lips.
"You're sorry?" I asked, confused. She shook her head frenetically and backed away from me. She pressed something on the coffee machine and gave me the bill she had already registered, half crumpled up, making me understand that the conversation was over. I wasn't even able to realize how much that reaction had hurt me. I took the change from the desk and went to sit down.

The chairs in the Lima Bean were so comfortable that I could have slept on them but, with the weight of those tapes inside my pockets and the sound of Blaine's voice in my mind, it felt as if someone was using his nails on a blackboard. I sipped my coffee and my tummy suddenly warmed up feeling something good coming from that horrible night, while my fingers resumed sensibility thanks to the hot contact with the glass.

Play.

But I have something else to say about you, Sam, even if you will realize later. If you're at the Lima Bean, just know that I've been there quite a lot and, maybe, I could have left something on the blue Guest Book on the bookshelf where everybody has stolen a book from.

I stood up, almost overturning the chair and scaring Tina, and then I ran to take the notebook that was still there. I browsed it looking for something which screamed 'Blaine' from the thousands of phallic drawings and kids' dedications which said "I luv u 4ever". It wasn't hard to find the only sentence which really didn't fit on that notebook.

I wonder if you will ever find what I've left. I wonder if you will be able to catch the few pieces of me left on this notebook. I give you a hint, it's really easy:

"Don't feel bad for me. Deep in the soul of my heart I really want to go."

It was a song, the lyrics sounded familiar to me.

It was signed with a date: 18/11/12. The day he killed himself.

I felt sick so I left the bar and ran outside.

I barely noticed Tina's sadder expression.

I remember when I wrote that sentence.

I leaned on the trash bin but beyond the car park and waited for that nauseous feeling to twist my stomach, but nothing happened. I was destined to keep that bitterness inside.

What a beautiful day that one. Best decisions always come when you least expect them.

He had written it, in the Guest Book and nobody had ever noticed it, I was sure. It wasn't an announcement but it was still a help request. Someone had to have seen him writing, at least Tina or Quinn Fabray, who worked there.

Demolition of a person in a few steps. You were managing to do really well, I'm sorry, but this is just the second name so you'll probably be wondering: how many people had been involved to make me feel the useless and pointless creature I feel today? I don't know. It could have been one, two, or each and every one of you. This tale is the chain of various facts that have practically taken my story and broke me to pieces.

Don't be sad, it's not worth it by now; I just thought it was right for you to know. And now stop, the list is long and the tape is ending.

Hi, Finn Hudson, you know you would have come out sooner or later, so it's better to do it and don't think about it anymore.

End of tape number two.