Do you realize, that you have the most beautiful face
Do you realize, we're floating in space,
Do you realize, that happiness makes you cry
Do you realize, that everyone you know someday will die

Do You Realize by The Flaming Lips

So, I know this song is about the sad stuff in life, but I like it for three reasons:

1. There’s nothing wrong with being sad.
2. Happiness really does make me cry. Kindness too.
3. It’s pretty much about worshipping your face. I love your face.

I also really liked how it sounded on piano, so I hope you do too.

~~~~~

The first full week of May is going to be a very long week for Blaine.

It’s the final week of classes and he has a presentation, two papers due and the expressive portion of his sign language final. Everything will be better by Friday. He’ll have several more exams the week after, but he’s not as worried about any of those.

By the time Friday comes around, all he has to do is drop off a paper at his professor’s office hours and then head to speech therapy, followed by work. Then the week is done and he can take a nap and head over to not-Kurt’s apartment for some quality celebratory drinking at Rachel’s “end of semester, very low key, very intimate” get together. He’s 98% sure it will involve a vegan cheese platter.

Blaine is not the biggest fan of anything vegan. He thinks he’ll stop for some chicken before he goes over to not-Kurt’s this evening.

About halfway through his session with Chad, Blaine gets a bit of a shock.

They’re going about their usual routine, which starts with Chad having him read for a bit. Blaine doesn’t even have to listen to the audiobook anymore. His ability to read aloud has vastly improved over the the past eight months. He still tends to read down the page and get himself worked up when he notices a certain word approaching, but it’s minimal compared to how it used to be.

After that, Chad asks him questions about his anxiety levels and how he’s feeling in general about his speech.

Blaine smiles. “Not bah-bad. I-I-I.” He pauses and pulls out of his block. “It was wah-weird. The other … um, the other day? I ordered coffee and I-I-I just … gave mm-my name. I, I dd-didn’t even think about it. I didn’t even ss-ss-ss-stuh-stutter.” His voice holds a certain amount of apprehensive wonder that makes Chad smile.

“That’s not weird. That’s awesome.” Chad rarely says his own name without stuttering himself, so he knows that this is a huge feat for Blaine. A huge feat for anyone with a speech impediment.

“Yeah, it kinda is, r-r-right?” Blaine asks shyly.

Chad takes a deep breath. It’s time.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe this summer you oh, oh, oh only need to come once a week for therapy,” he tells Blaine.

Blaine hesitates. It’s weird to think of how when he started going to speech he was so opposed to it and now it feels like his security blanket. The idea of seeing Chad only once a week leaves him feeling almost panicky.

“Um. Why?” Blaine asks.

“Because you’re doing really well and you’re gah-going to have a busy schedule and I think it’s a good time to … wean you off a little. What do you think?”

“It mm-makes me um, makes me rr-really nervous.” Blaine clenches his fists. He doesn’t want to outright disagree with Chad. But, he really doesn’t feel prepared for this step.

“That’s ok. That’s totally understandable. That’s why we’re going to try it. And it’s a trial run, for the, the, the summer and you’ll still come once a week.”

“Ok. What if, what if I... I need you mah-more than that though? Can I, can I email you?” Blaine can think of several days over the past year that he made it through only because he had the knowledge that he would see Chad the next day. He needs that net, he thinks. He needs to know that Chad is there to catch him if he falls. No one understands the way Chad does.

Blaine doesn’t have to pretend around Chad.

Chad raises an eyebrow and gives Blaine a sly smile. “If you’re having a really bad day, you can call me.”

Blaine makes a noise of disgust. “If I’m having a r-r-really bah-bad day there’s no ww-way I-I-I can talk on the phone.”

“Don’t be an assclown. You can talk all you want.”

“Not r-r-really though. It’s not real, rrrrrr-right? I, I, I mean.” He glances over at Chad, his face full of tentative hope. “This little b-b-b-bit of fluency, it’s passing or, or, or something, right? It won’t always be like this.”

Chad shakes his head and grins. “Why would you think that?”

“Bbbb-because it’s only beh-been like a mm-month since I really started improving again and this … feels false. It doesn’t seem real. It’s the mm-most fluent I’ve ever been.”

“Why do you think it’s not real though?”

“Because.” He pauses, searching his brain for exactly the right words to make Chad understand. “Be-be-be-cause, I’m Bah-laine. I-I can’t talk.” He knows that’s not really the best way to describe it, and Chad probably won’t accept it, but it’s all he can get out right now.

“Oh well then. I totally understand that la-la-logic,” Chad says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who are you then right now? Seeing as how you’re talking. Alex? Ed? One of your other various coffee personalities?”

“I-I kindly request that you take a long ww-walk off a short pier.”

Chad laughs and then sobers. He needs Blaine to understand.

“All kidding aside, I haven’t wanted to bring this up because I knew you would twi-twi-twist it and make too much of it. But you don’t even notice what you’re doing. The way it’s not only about what you’re saying, or how well you’re saying it, but how much you’re saying.”

Blaine looks at him likes he’s crazy.

“Think about the, the, the phrase that you just said. What would that have looked like two months ago, or six months ago, or a year ago?”

“A year ago, I-I wouldn’t have ss-ss-said it.”

Chad nods.

“Six months ago, I-I-I-I wah-would have said ss-ss-something shorter like ‘get out of here.’”

“What about two months ago, Blaine?”

“I ww-ww-would have … abbreviated it, to s-s-s-s-something like ‘take a long walk off a short pier.’ Or maybe not even that. Two months ago I was kind of bah-bah-bah-backsliding.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I-I-I think I’m ss-still nervous about only coming once a week, but I sort of ss-ss-see your point.” Blaine blushes and looks away.

“What?”

“You’ll make fun of mmm-me.”

“Try me.”

“I just. It’s like. Um.” He bounces his knee a couple of times and then looks back over at Chad, “I’m gonna mm-miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Chad responds, honestly. “But you’re not qui-quite rid of me yet.”

~~~~~

Rachel’s end of semester get together has quickly escalated into a full fledged party. It seems like the usual small group of Rachel, Puck, Tina, Matt, Kerry, and Blaine is multiplied 4 or 5 times at least. Everyone took the opportunity to invite extra people. Several people from Matt and Blaine’s dorm, all of Puck’s roommates, a couple of Kerry’s friends, Tina’s cousin and multiple people Rachel knows from a variety of places are all crammed into this fairly small apartment. Blaine even invited DiDi.

It’s not an ideal situation for Blaine. It’s a lot of strangers and he’s got too much on his mind. After leaving Chad’s office, he continued to think about speech therapy and he kept telling himself that he’ll be fine only going once a week.

And then when he got to work, Sarah pulled him aside.

“Hey, I’ve been talking to some of the other head counselors about you,” she told him.

He raised his eyebrows at her in silent question.

“You have a fantastic recommendation letter from last summer and I can’t say enough about how great you are with the kids. And that you’re talented.” She’d caught him playing the piano the week before.

“So we were thinking maybe you’d like to be the music counselor this summer.”

They talked about it a little bit more after that, what it would entail, how much more money he would make being a specialized counselor as opposed to a general group counselor. Blaine was flattered, more than flattered. He just wasn’t sure... Well, about anything. But that’s not all that rare for him.

He knows today held only good things, but his apprehension about both pieces of news is undeniable. He knows it’s time to slow down speech therapy, but slowing it down might lead to another backslide. And backsliding while he’s working at this new job, a job that’s going to be so much like what he wants to do with the rest of his life, feels like a recipe for disaster.

But what if it isn’t, a little voice in the back of his head asks.

He’s roused from his thoughts when DiDi comes through the door.

“Blaine,” she calls out from across the room. Blaine is, as usual, stationed in his favorite spot, leaning on the kitchen counter. He’s nursing his third beer already. He stands up straighter as she makes her way over.

“Hey,” he says with a smile. “I ww-wasn’t sure if you would come.”

She punches him in the arm. “Of course I was gonna come, silly! I was psyched to see you somewhere besides class or the dumb language lab.” He offers her a beer and she accepts it.

“You could have b-b-brought your roommate,” he tells her, feeling bad. She didn’t have to come alone.

“Nah,” she responds casually. “I was looking forward to just hanging out with you.”

He kind of can’t stop smiling. His friend is here.

Matt and Kerry come over then and introductions are made. Matt asks Blaine if he got his paper in on time. Blaine says yes, before launching into what happened at work after handing in his paper.

He tells their small group about the offer that Sarah made and how he’s worried about it, but they all seem to think it’ll be a great opportunity.

“I didn’t even know you were a musician,” DiDi says. “But I think it’s an awesome idea.”

Matt and Kerry move on then, it’s their turn to play quarters, Kerry telling him they should talk about this more seriously when she hasn’t had two rum and cokes.

“So, why are you worried about it?” DiDi asks seriously, as Blaine goes back to leaning on the counter. He has a brief moment where he can’t help but look at the spot next to him, the spot where Kurt would be.

“Well, I,” he pauses to think. It should be obvious why he would be worried, but it’s so weird to talk to someone who doesn’t really know him. Who don’t know how he fails and fucks up and tries all the time with his speech, but can never quite get it right. “I’m pretty bb-bb-bad at, like, talking. Obviously.”

“Not really though,” she says.

“Um. Yes. Really.”

“Blaine. Can I call you Blaine? I’m gonna level with you here.” DiDi makes one of her ridiculously over the top facial expressions. It’s earnest and kind, with healthy dose of silly. All good words to describe her in general.

He nods and slow smile creeps onto his face.

“Everyone is bad at something. I’m terrible at reading. I have comprehension issues from mild dyslexia. It affects me, but I work at it. Is it gonna stop me doing what I want with my life?”

“I’m gonna guess the answer is nah-no,” Blaine says.

“It’s definitely no,” DiDi agrees. “I’m gonna level with you again.”

This time he nods and chuckles. She’s just so … DiDi.

“Nobody gives a shit about your speech.”

“That’s not r-r-r-really true. People are actually kind of … assholes about it. Nice people dah-don’t give a shit, but there are a lot people who aren’t patient and ss-sometimes they’re mean,” he downs the rest of his beer and grabs another one. “Last fall a little girl asked if I was re-re-retarded.” He might as well be honest with her. Although at this point, he feels oddly nonchalant about that night.

“Ok, so that kind of ruins my pep talk,” she says, making a face.

“It’s ok. The sss-sss-entiment stands. I shouldn’t let my spah-spah-spah-eech mess with what I want to do.”

“Exactly, Blaine! Spot on!” And then she smacks his back.

“Ow. What was that for?”

“That was me prodding you into the bright lights of your future.”

He bobs his head. “I feel prodded.”

“So, what are you doing this summer?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows at him.

“I’m gonna be a mmm-music counselor at summer camp,” he says with a sheepish grin.

“Damn straight you are!” she exclaims.

A little while later, Rachel comes through with her flip cam. “I’m making a video for Kurt!” she cries.

Blaine smiles shyly and waves. “I miss you, dumbass,” he says to the camera.

DiDi waves too. “I feel like I know you!”

Blaine makes wild gestures around DiDi’s head as if to say “Look how much less crazy her hair is now!” DiDi is of course completely oblivious to Blaine’s gesticulating.

After that, he and DiDi move into the living room, where Puck’s strumming a guitar and Matt and Kerry have decided to squeeze into the same chair and make out for several hours.

Blaine asks Puck if he can play a bit, as people gather in the living room and Rachel returns with her flip cam. After Blaine plays a few songs, Matt emerges from his cocoon of Kerry and gestures to Blaine for the guitar. Blaine hands it over, because he needs another beer anyway.

In the kitchen, he chats with one of Puck’s roommates for a minute. He doesn’t remember the guy’s name off the top of his head, but he’s oddly touchy-feely. Either that or the guy is super drunk. Blaine’s on his way to super drunk, so the light arm punches this guy keeps giving him just seem funny, instead of creepy or flirty. (Is he flirting? Blaine’s pretty sure all of Puck’s roommates are straight. But maybe this one is bi-curious.) He catches Rachel filming him again then and he tosses off a mock salute and a wink, knowing Kurt’s going to see it.

DiDi joins him in the kitchen and she seems to be getting fairly toasty herself.

“Blaine!” she cries. “Excellent guitaring! Children will love you.” And then she awkwardly pats his shoulder.

“DiDi, may I-I-I call you DiDi?” he inquires playfully.

“You may call me Deirdre Marshall, as that is my given name,” she slurs.

His eyes go wide and he holds his breath. He stays like, frozen, with a weird smile teasing his lips, as he examines her face more closely. He takes a second to collect that thought. How could have possibly not known this sooner? All the time they spent at the language lab, out to lunch. He just never thought to ask her last name. And he certainly never bothered to look at her ID or anything. And names just aren’t that important in ASL.

He’s accidentally become friends with D.Marshall?

Deirdre fucking Marshall.

“What?” she giggles a bit uncomfortably under Blaine’s scrutiny. Blaine realizes he’s been staring at her for the better part of a minute and shakes his tongue lose.

“Your nn-name,” he pauses, licking his lips, trying so very hard not to burst out laughing, “is Deirdre Marshall?”

“Yes. Why?”

Be cool, Blaine, he tells himself. You’re very drunk and she’ll never understand if you explain it now. Maybe you should never explain it. It’s all fairly rude when you get down to it.

“Uh, nothing. I just dih-didn’t know your last nnn-name. Or your full first nay-nay-name.” That was cooler than he has ever been in his entire life.

“I don’t know your last name either,” she says.

“Anderson. My last nn-name is Anderson,” he searches her face for recognition and she just smiles.

The rest of the party passes in a bit of blur for Blaine and he would imagine for everyone else. He finally manages to find Tina and tell her about everything that happened that day. About speech and work and Deirdre fucking Marshall! Although Tina’s been drinking way too many pink drinks with Rachel and seems to think him being a music counselor is the funniest thing on earth.

“Remind mm-me to tell you tomorrow,” he finally says. He feels like he has completely lost control of his eyes and he knows they go oddly wide as he leans in too close to her face.

She makes her goes wide too and leans up to touch noses. “You got it, Blainers!”

He giggles and pulls back to throw an arm around her.

“Becoming friends with you was a very good idea,” Tina mumbles as she wraps her arms around his waist.

He doesn’t want DiDi (DEIRDRE!) to walk home by herself, so he rallies Matt and Kerry and the four of them head out.

“You guys totally didn’t have to do this for me,” DiDi drawls.

“We totally don’t mind,” Blaine drawls back.

When they drop her off, she gives each of them a hug and tells Blaine she’ll see him at their ASL exam next week. Actually, she signs it and Blaine finds that hilarious.

He signs back every piece of sign language that he can remember and that includes the sign for “poophead.”

Matt, Kerry, and Blaine, continue back to their building. Matt’s staying at Kerry’s that night, because her roommate has already moved out.

Blaine enters his dark room and fumbles out of his clothes, barking his shins on just about every piece of furniture and cursing himself for not turning on the light.

“Silly, Blainers,” he says flawlessly to his empty dorm room. “Trix are for kids.”

He puts his head on his pillow and thinks about the awesome email he’s going to write Kurt. And then he decides he’d much rather save all of his news for skyping or maybe even a phone call. A phone call would be great practice. He’s actually disappointed that Kurt’s away for a long weekend in Versailles, because he really can’t wait to tell him everything.

Right before he passes out, he grabs his phone and writes a note:

didi = deirdre fucking marshall

He really does pride himself on being a decent drunk typer.

Blaine falls asleep with a goofy grin on his face.