Apparently Santana’s muscles have memory for doing some things but that doesn’t help him know anything about a cheerleading routine.

Maybe she wasn’t serious about kicking Santana off the squad.

He hopes.

He climbs out of the car, dressed casually now in low-slung red Capri sweatpants and a black tank top he had found in Santana’s cheerio locker, and glances nervously at the house. He wishes he had something else to wear, feeling very exposed in these clothes but not wanting to put the sweat-in uniform back on after Santana’s shower.

Not like Kurt’s going to care or notice, really.

He squares Santana’s shoulders and shuts the car door, carrying only his cell phone and keys and makes his way to Kurt’s door. It’s September and the air is still warm in the evenings, but the air has the gentle aroma of leaves dried and fading, of trees sinking down into their bark as autumn creeps in. It’s one of Blaine’s favorite smells anywhere he’s ever been and he’s thankful for it now, the familiarity of it grounding him. He finds himself on the stoop and leans in to ring the bell.

***
Kurt’s in the kitchen when he hears the doorbell. He pushes the casserole he’s’ just made into the oven, sets the timer and then wipes his hands on the towel hanging from the refrigerator handle before moving toward the entryway. He passes the arch into the living room, leaning his head in as he goes.

“Santana’s here to help me with some trig, Finn. Remember to be nice,” he hisses, reminded of the way Finn’s face had fallen into a thoughtful scowl when Kurt had mentioned her arrival. Finn barely glances up from where he’s watching some movie as he replies, “Sure, whatever man,” and keeps watching.

Kurt shakes his head and sighs, reaching the door and pulling it open. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight streaming in from the sun, low on the horizon. As they do, however, he sees Santana, standing without her uniform or any makeup on, her hands pulling nervously at the bottom of her tank top, one lip trapped between her teeth.

He’s never seen her like this before. Then again, he’s never really seen Santana act anything like she has today before so there’s that...and really, it’s her eyes. Kurt feels almost like he should look away, a flush forming on his cheeks as she gazes at him.

It’s like she’s never seen him before, or like he’s the meaning to something wonderful. He’s never been looked at by anyone this way, man or woman, and he’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel about it.

All in all it’s been very confusing being Santana’s friend today.

Nonetheless, she is here to help him study and so-

“Welcome, San, please, please come in. Would you like something to drink?”

He watches as she steps purposely into his home for the first time, her eyes darting here and there, taking in the photographs hanging everywhere in the hall.

“No, thanks. Who’s this? And where do you want to um, study?” she asks, glancing at Kurt and then back to the photographs.

Kurt laughs and reaches up to settle his hand at his neck before replying, “You do get right to the point, don’t you?”

She turns to look at him, taking in his stance.

“I do. You know that about me, Hummel.”

Kurt chuckles again and loosens up. Same old Santana. Nothing to worry about here.

“Okay, well. We’re going to study in my room because Finn has taken over the living room and sounds of some sort of cinematic war will be distracting for me and that is my mother and me when I was five so she had to be...twenty-seven?”

Santana seems to take in the picture with more focus this time, her lips drawing down into a sad grimace. Kurt finds himself wondering what she is thinking but before he can ask she moves, taking his hand and pulling it.

“Well then, pretty boy, let’s get to it before the night’s all gone.”

Kurt decides to stop trying to figure her out then and there and just moves with her, moving past the living room in a blur and on up the stairs to his room.

***

Blaine had had to move from the photograph before tears threatened to gather in his eyes that already burned. Being reminded of mothers - any mothers - were a sore subject and one that Blaine didn’t dare linger on. It hurt too much.

He stopped leading on the stairs, letting Kurt overtake him and then followed him into his room where they are standing now, Blaine standing still in the center of it, taking in the essence of Kurt in the room.

He feels like he can tell so much from this space. How Kurt doesn’t have posters on his walls or a television in his room to distract him - but he does have tasteful knick knacks and photographs. He doesn’t have a huge amount of space, but what he does have is an alcove where a grand mirror and elegant-looking settee sit with a counter carefully organized with various products sits. His bed is made and the whole area is impeccably neat.

Blaine has the sudden urge to put Kurt back onto his bed and kiss him senseless but he doesn’t think that will go over too well considering he’s a.) Not his boyfriend and b.) Not a boy.

Blaine has the fleeting thought that he hopes tomorrow he’ll still be in Lima, close enough to Kurt to know more about this boy he’s barely scratched the surface of but wants to dive headfirst into.

“Is it okay to look at your pictures in here?” he asked Kurt as Kurt pulls at his backpack and starts settling notebooks and papers across his bedspread.

“Knock yourself out, I’m just going to get everything out and make it easier for us to sort through,” Kurt answers, seemingly immersed in his task.

Blaine does look then, through pictures of a smiling Kurt with an older, balder man with coveralls on who could literally be Kurt’s opposite in every way. A picture of Kurt with Finn, both in tuxes, with the bald man again (Kurt’s father?), this time in a tux as well and a laughing older woman in a wedding dress.

There are no other pictures of Kurt’s mother here.

On another shelf there are pictures of Kurt with what look like friends, all of them dressed in the same outfits and singing, another where he’s in a football uniform and being bear hugged by Finn, and still another where he’s dressed as what looks like Lady Gaga.

So many sides of Kurt Blaine would like to know more about. His chest burns and his fingertips tingle as he looks at Kurt dressed for what looks like a prom - proper tuxedo jacket and all...until you look lower and see a highly fashionable kilt.

This is the photo that makes Blaine begin to shake because standing beside Kurt, in a proper tuxedo as well, is the man that can only be Sebastian. He’s smiling toward the camera and holding Kurt’s waist possessively, Kurt’s body angled a bit away with a small smile on his face. Something about the photo feels forced to Blaine.

Or maybe it’s just Blaine’s eyes telling him what he wants to see.

To the right of this photo are more of Sebastian and Kurt - obviously shot over the summer and in various states of undress. At a pool party, Sebastian jumping into the pool and Kurt backing away, lounging on beach chairs, Sebastian grabbing at Kurt’s shirt and Kurt holding it down.

None of them scream, “I’m happy!” to Blaine.

But again, he could be wrong.

Kurt clears his throat behind him, and Blaine turns to look at him.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asks, his keen eyes watching Santana’s body closely.

“Sure, let’s do this,” Blaine replies, settling onto the floor next to the bed with his legs curled under him, his arms and chin on the bedspread.

Kurt looks at Santana again, his eyes full of questions, but all he says is, “Okay.”

Part 6

Two hours later and Kurt's feeling better – he's found that he wasn’t' nearly as lost as he thought he was, and he's confident that he's going to ace the test he has the next day. They're clearing things up when Blaine has the courage to ask about Sebastian.

“Kurt,” he begins, licking Santana's lips where he's been worrying them all day, “Why are you, I mean, Sebastian. He seems kind of-”

Blaine watches as Kurt pulls into himself, shuttering his face and pulling into his shell in front of Blaine's eyes.

Shit, Blaine thought, This is exactly what I didn't want.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean-” Blaine begins, but Kurt holds up his finger in a “wait” gesture and Blaine stops talking, watching as Kurt takes a few deep breaths and then looks right into Santana's eyes.

“I know you probably think I'm stupid,” he begins, his voice barely a whisper, and Blaine climbs back onto the bed next to him, resting his hand gently on Kurt's knee as he talks. The gesture stops Kurt's speech and he looks down at the hand on his knee for a moment before looking back to Santana, that same question in his eyes.

Blaine, for his part, has forgotten the boundaries he needs to hold, has forgotten about not getting involved and has seen the pain on his face which is why he reached out to touch, to help somehow. But now his fingertips burn as if he's juggling hot coals and he aches to reach his hand higher, to cup Kurt's jaw and make him see the way Blaine sees him.

Kurt just keeps looking at him, at Santana's eyes, and Blaine knows he needs to help things along, draw Kurt's attention back to the question instead of the hand burning burning burning on his knee.

“You'll never seem stupid to me, Kurt,” Blaine soothes, hoping that his voice conveys the confidence he feels.

Kurt stares another moment and then visibly shakes himself, finding the thread of his previous thought and continuing to speak.

“You know how it was, Santana. Hell, you were even one of the ones who always made fun of me. It gets pretty old hearing “lady boy” and “girly man” over and over again, from men and women. I just- I never belonged anywhere, you know? No one saw me as sexy or desirable and then Sebastian came and...and I know he's not perfect, and sometimes I just don't know if he cares at all, really, but he likes me, San, or he says he does and I just..” Kurt trails off, tears sliding down his cheeks in earnest now, and Blaine just wants so badly to help, to hold this beautiful boy in his arms and listen to him talk, to ask him to sing if that's what he likes, to find out why his room looks more like a fashion house than an 18-year-old boy's room and-

“...what if no one else ever likes me, Santana? What if this is all I get?”

At that moment the doorbell's ringing and they hear Finn's elephant steps below them. Kurt hurriedly wipes his eyes and face, practically leaping off the bed to sit at his mirror while he scoops up lotions and wipes. Blaine stares at his hand on the comforter, the same one that had just been touching Kurt a moment ago, while footsteps come quickly up the stairs behind him.
“Well if it isn't my favorite lesbian,” sneers a voice from the doorway, and Blaine doesn't have to turn to look to know who he'll see.

Apparently Sebastian is going to have his “needs” fulfilled tonight anyway.

Something dark and hard coils in Blaine's chest and he feels all of Santana's muscles tense as he turns to see Sebastian leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and looking just as haughty as his voice made him sound.

“Well, it's always nice to see a properly cared for stud,” Blaine begins, and Sebastian's face lifts into a smile. “I'd recognize that horse face anywhere.”

For a moment Sebastian continues to smile, but then Blaine's words sink in and his features darken as anger replaces arrogance.

“Santana!” Kurt exclaims from the alcove, jumping up from the chaise and crossing to where she's sitting. “I think it's time for you to go.”

Blaine stands up, looking between Sebastian and Kurt, furtively wishing he had kept his thoughts to himself, when Sebastian cuts into his thoughts.

“It's okay, baby. She's just playing with me. Maybe she really, really misses dick and that's why she's so cranky, right ma-ma-seeeee-ta?”

Blaine scowls at him but moves toward the door anyway, catching what Sebastian's saying to Kurt as he reaches the doorway. “And why are you cleaning your face right now? I'm just going to dirty it up, anyway, right? Don't worry, it doesn't matter what you do to it, it's still gay.”

Blaine's fists ball in anger but he forces himself down the stairs and out the door, knowing there's nothing more he can do for Kurt tonight.

On the drive home, he cries.

***

Day 2557, Age 18, Time: 20:45

Facts of the Day:

• Hispanic Female


• Name: Santana


• Lower Middle class


• Long-term relationship (girl)

B-
I don't really know how to start and I don't know where this will lead but suffice to say this day was the most confusing I've ever had, and that is saying a lot considering my constant state of flux. I met someone today. Someone who has changed my life, who makes me want to break all the rules and stay in this body or somehow near him and just...

I think...I think I know what it feels like to want someone. To want to love them. I just want to know more about him, about why he chooses to be with that asshole Sebastian, about why he doesn't think he's worth more when he's so perfect and different and-

I don't even know what I'm doing. Maybe this is like before where I'll stay for a while, maybe not. Maybe I'll never see him again. Maybe it doesn't matter what I want, ever, and I stay this way until I die somehow.

Today is the first day that that is really, totally, and irrevocably terrifying.

I want to know him more. I want to touch his skin and taste his mouth.

Why can't I just be me? Whoever me is? Where even is my body? I don't know and mom never said and those DAMNED men were no help at all. Why can't I just have this? This one thing to hold on to? He's everything and I'm just-

I just- I can't-

Time: 23.57

This can't be love if I can't love him like he deserves – with no secrets and no weirdness and all that I am...which is nothing, nothing sometimes.

-B

***

You're beautiful.” That's what Santana had said. Worth more than this. More than Sebastian coming against him and not even bothering to reciprocate, leaving Kurt feeling used and dirty in his bedroom as he left, insisting he'd “get into trouble for getting home late.”

But it wasn't so much Santana's words as her eyes. She had watched him like she had never seen him before. Watched him like he was special. Like he meant something more.

It was both flattering and unsettling at the same time, and it was confusing the hell out of Kurt more than anything.

He lifts his hands to beat at his pillows, turning them over to find a cool spot for his head while he watches the clock change over to 2:34am.

He needs to forget about it. Let it go and see how Santana acts tomorrow – sure to be back to her old bitchy self.

But...I'm worth more.