Kurt's POV:

We’d coaxed Rachel out of the bathroom with the promise of seaweed face masks. I was a bit hesitant to open the “Make Your Own: Seaweed Facial” pack that Mercedes brought round. But after checking the ingredients – just to make sure that nothing above a pH level 7 touches my face – I deemed it alright to use. We each took turns to apply the green paste to each other’s faces, then laughing as we realised the strange resemblance to sea monsters.

We each chose different things to do while wearing the green sludge. Mercedes is standing by the mirror trying to decide between two different dresses: one red, knee-length and glittery that would hang to her curves perfectly, and another, similar but in a deep purple. Rachel flicks through her iPod trying to decide which song to perform for her “adoring fans”. Me? I decided to lie on my bed with cucumber slices over my eyes. With all the talk of dresses and songs, I begin to feel like my old self again. Yet something still holds me back slightly.

“Kurt, what do you think: purple or red?” Mercedes asks me for advice on her dress. I mean, I don’t blame her, my fashion sense is fabulous. I open my mouth to tell her that she should definitely wear the purple one because I’ll be wearing a red tie and we did not want to look like we’d planned to match, but Rachel cuts in.

“Kurt, should I sing I’m Not That Girl from Wicked or –“

“Oh god no, Rachel,” her expression changes to something between confused and offended at my interjection, “I mean that song is fantastic, but you can’t sing it at a reunion.”

“Yeah, I mean, reunions are supposed to be happy and fun. Seeing old friends and having a laugh with each other. You sure as hell aren’t going to bring it down with that old sad one.”

I catch myself laughing. Gosh it’s been a while since I’ve had a reason to laugh. God I sound morbid. I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I mean, Mercedes is right isn’t she? Tonight’s supposed to be about fun and laughter: forgetting the bad stuff and just remembering the good...right? Why is it so hard for me to do that?

Then the faint chime of the door bell echoes in the living room above our heads. Carole and my dad had gone out, complaining at the loud music coming from my room. I move to go and answer it, but Rachel beats me to it.

I lift one of my cucumbers off my eyes and exchange a sort of look with Mercedes. The mumbles of voices from above us were having some kind of emotional conversation. I make a move to join in the conversation, and a look of panic flashes onto Mercedes’ face.

“Oh no, don’t get up,” she says as she jumps to her feet, an extremely unconvincing tender tone to her voice, “I’ll go see what’s taking Rachel so long.” An uneasy smile took over her features as she slid out of the room.

“OH HELL NAW. What are you doing here?!” Mercedes’ loud voice booms around the entire house. Who the hell is at the door? I wish the girls would just let me answer my own front door.

Blaine's POV:

I shrug on my suit blazer as I check my appearance in the full-length mirror in the bathroom. Keep calm, Blaine. You’ve gone through worse and survived. Just remember to breathe and you’ll be fine. Tonight is going to be fine. Then why do I feel close to a panic attack?

Drew raps on the door, “BLAINE, COME ON! Why can’t I see your outfit?”

A smile takes over my face as I finish tying my bowtie, “Because I want it to be a surprise!”

A barely audible sigh comes through the closed door, “Jeez, you’d think it was our wedding day.” Drew mumbles.

I laugh, “And what makes you think I’d be the bride?”

“You really have to ask that? You’ve been in the bathroom for an hour.”

“Psht, I bet you’ll take longer getting ready.” I roll my eyes, even though Drew can’t see.

“I’m already ready!” I couldn’t help but blush. Drew was right, I would be the bride. Sigh; there was a time I was described as “The Alpha-Gay”...Oh crap that reminds me: the reunion. Why is it always when you forget about being stressed, the stress seems so much worse when it returns?

“Seriously, Blaine, we’re gonna be late!”

“I know, I know. I’m just coming.” I say as I fling open the bathroom door. First my eyes land on Drew’s disgruntled face, and a small laugh escapes my lips. I can’t help it; whenever Drew tries to look angry he just looks adorable! My eyes travel down his body as I laugh. He looks fantastic. Honestly, I’ve never seen him look so wonderful. He’s wearing the grey pinstripe, 3-piece suit I bought him for his birthday a few months back. Although, he’s carrying his blazer, so you can see his white shirt underneath the waistcoat.

“Oh dear lord, take a picture: it’ll last longer,” he says as he practically shoves me out of the room.