The year was 1963. The town, Lima, Ohio. But that may be irrelevant, because there was absolutely nothing special about Lima, Ohio.

Kurt Hummel was certain of this. In all his sixteen years, he had never had the good fortune of stepping outside the city limits, so he was kind of an expert.

Kurt quietly accepted his mundane existence, only dreaming of visiting far-off places where glamour and adventure abound. Places he could openly be who he truly was.

Which was homosexual.

No one knew, of course. Here, being different meant getting tossed into dumpsters, and Kurt liked his clothes too much to subject them to yesterday’s lunch.

He couldn’t even tell his dad, even though he was sure his dad would be accepting of him. He just didn’t want his dad to get any of the flack for having a weird kid.

Kurt was protecting him. 

All he could do was hope for change, hope that maybe, one day, he wouldn’t have to hide. Maybe, one day, Lima, Ohio would be different. Better.

No, Kurt thought. Nothing good ever happened in Lima.

 It was a normal Wednesday afternoon. And by normal, of course, I mean boring. Uneventful. Normal. Only a handful of customers had visited the sleepy little diner on the edge of town where Kurt waited tables everyday after school.

A small bell signaled another’s presence; Kurt glanced over to see a man in army greens slip into a booth in Kurt’s section.

“What can I get for you today?”

The young man looked up at Kurt, blinking his bright golden eyes and opening his mouth slightly, only for a second, like he couldn’t remember exactly what he had been thinking about. But he recovered quickly, flashing a toothy grin, and replying, “just coffee.”

And the man sat there. An hour and three refills passed, and Kurt was ready to clock out.

“Sir, is there anything else I can get you?”

The man looked down, a little nervous now, not really sure what he was doing. He cleared his throat.

“I know this may seem forward, and we don’t even know each other, but you seem amiable and I just... Will you sit? Join me? I’m... I’m feeling... sad. I would love some company right now.”

Kurt processed the man’s words. He seemed honest, earnest even. He could spare an hour to cheer up an American soldier, call it a favor to his country.

“Sure,” Kurt smiled, and the man looked visibly relieved. “But let’s not stay here. I spend too much time in this place.”

“I’m Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson.”

“Kurt.”

Kurt led Blaine to the park. It wasn’t far from the diner and the weather was pleasant enough to sit outside.

They sat on Kurt’s favorite bench, the one hidden by the weeping willow that overlooked a small pond full of water lilies and a few ducks.

A few moments passed, silent and awkward, before Kurt spoken.

“So... why are you sad?”

Blaine chuckled gently. “It is a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Blaine looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I’m leaving today. For California. Then they’re sending me to Vietnam. I guess I just didn’t want to be alone right now.”

That’s understandable, Kurt thought. “Ok.”

“And you don’t want to listen to my problems. They’re pathetic, really.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Blaine exhaled slowly. “Will you, ah... will you tell me about yourself?”

“I’m incredibly boring.”

“That’s ok.”

Maybe this went against his better judgment, telling his life story to a complete stranger. Except he wasn’t a complete stranger. He was Blaine Anderson. He was captivating. He was... Blaine.

“My name’s Kurt Hummel, I’m sixteen, and it’s just me and my dad. My mom died when I was eight...” The words tumbled out before he could even think about stopping them.

“I don’t really have friends. I’m not popular. I keep my head down, just trying to get out of high school alive.”

Blaine hung on to every word, never interrupting, just listening and looking.

Kurt talked until his throat was dry. It was therapeutic, almost. Talking to Blaine, pretending he had a friend... It was nice.

“One day I’m going to leave, you know. I’m going to get on the east bound bus and not get off ‘til I’m in New York City.”

Why not? Why not tell Blaine everything. It’s not like he’d ever see him again, probably. So why not tell him the secret, deepest desires of his heart? Why not?

“I want to sing,” Kurt laughed, then, a bitter, sad laugh. “I’m good, too. But no one has heard me. Not even my dad. Because if anyone did... If anyone heard me sing, they’d just KNOW.”

Kurt stopped.

“Know what, Kurt?”

He couldn’t. He’d never said it out loud before, not even when he was alone, when he could have whispered it to himself. Tears sprung to his eyes. He blinked furiously, willing them to disappear.

“Kurt--”

“I’m gay, Blaine,” Kurt whispered, wincing, bracing himself for the inevitable backlash.

“Kurt...” Blaine was calm. Why was he so calm?

Kurt opened his eyes tentatively, daring himself to look at Blaine’s face.

What he was shocked him. Blaine was smiling, genuinely. And Kurt was confused. Why hadn’t this guy freaked out, run away screaming?

“Oh, Kurt...” Blaine reached for his hand. “Me, too. I’m... I’m gay, too.”

And then he was laughing. And Kurt was, too. Loud and joyful, genuine laughs that started deep in the belly and radiated outward. They laughed so hard they cried.

Blaine wiped his eyes as the laughter petered out.

“I was so scared, Kurt. I didn’t want to tell you... because I was scared that you would react like they did. They... my parents... I told them. This morning, actually. I’m going off to war and I guess I just wanted them to know who I was. I thought they would love me still but...” Blaine broke off, shaking his head, huge tears running down his cheeks.

“Mom... mom started crying and locked herself in her room. She wouldn’t even hug me goodbye. And dad...” Blaine was sobbing now, his tiny frame shaking. Kurt gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Blaine leaned into the touch and buried his face into Kurt’s chest. “My father said... if I manage to survive the war that I can’t come home. I was no longer welcome in his house.”

Kurt let him cry, holding him, doing his best to comfort the brokenhearted boy. When his sobs died down, Blaine lifted his head from Kurt’s chest, apologizing breathlessly for the tear stain on Kurt’s jacket.

“You know,” Kurt said after a minute, “You’re the only person I’ve ever told. I... I had never even said it out loud.”

It was freeing, to be honest. He had finally spoken those two words and the person that heard them hadn’t judged him or looked down on him. It was... empowering. Liberating.

“And here I thought it was just a normal Wednesday in Lima, Ohio.”

Blaine opened up after that, spilling his heart to Kurt.

Kurt learned about Blaine’s old school, Dalton Academy, and his older brother Cooper, already drafted and fighting overseas.

He learned that, growing up, Blaine had a crush on Cooper’s best friend Samuel but never said anything, of course, because that’s not something you talk about.

He learned that Blaine loves singing, too, and was a member of Dalton’s acapella singing group, The Warblers. But what he really wants to do with his life is teach. He wants to teach and help people and make a difference.

He learned that Blaine joined the army because of Cooper, because he wanted to be like his older brother, strong and brave. And because it made his father proud.

He also learned that Blaine doesn’t plan to come out to anyone else, especially not in the army. He may want to be brave, but not THAT brave.

It’s ok, Kurt assures him. He’s plenty brave, he’s perfect. Blaine scoffs, but Kurt insists.

“You are, Blaine. You’re... perfect.”

“I might...” Blaine paused glancing down at Kurt’s lips and back up to his piercing blue eyes. He swallows nervously. “I might want to kiss you.”

Kurt’s heart beat wildly in his chest. “I might let you.”

And then they’re leaning towards each other, slowly, inch by inch. Blaine’s hand cups Kurt’s smooth cheek; he pauses, searching Kurt’s eyes for regret or uncertainty, but finds neither.

Lips press together tentatively, lightly, gloriously. Kurt inhales sharply and Blaine deepens the kiss, pressing in harder, warmer, wetter. Kurt pulls away breathless and blushing.

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

And then they’re kissing again, frantic and desperate, like they need each other to survive.

At some point they run out of air and they break apart, lips swollen, chests heaving, hair disheveled.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re leaving.”

“I know. Will you wait for me, Kurt?"