I don't wanna be an island
I just wanna feel alive and
get to see your face again
I don't wanna be an island
I just wanna feel alive and
get to see your face again

Tuesday afternoons were the only day that Rachel didn't make New Directions practice in the auditorium all afternoon, so it was that day that Kurt and Blaine met at The Lima Bean after school to work on their Macbeth project. It was not a thrilling display, just two boys sitting at a table surrounded by notebooks and binders and the works of William Shakespeare. Sometimes they went long periods of time without talking or looking at each other each engrossed in textbooks and reference material they needed to use.

Kurt hadn't yet figured out how to deal with his feelings in regards to Blaine. He tried hard to keep his face neutral, but lately he seemed to be hyperaware of Blaine's presence and the fluttering somewhere inside his chest that came with it. He'd pushed Rachel and the other people out of his life for a reason. It should've been the same for Blaine. They'd known each other for three months, and Kurt had spent most of that time trying his hardest to keep Blaine as far away as possible. So why now? Why now did that little piece of Kurt that felt drawn to Blaine exist?

The worst part was that Kurt had no idea how Blaine was feeling. There was nothing worse than putting yourself out on the line only to be rejected by a shorter, yet absolutely adorable boy who usually happened to be everywhere that you were. So Kurt held his tongue on this particular Tuesday, sitting at their table at The Lima Bean (yes, the little blonde barista had officially dubbed the table as theirs) trying his hardest to ignore the way that Blaine's brow scrunched together when he didn't understand the Shakespearian language. Or the way he liked to chew on his pen caps.

"What do you draw?" Blaine said a couple of minutes later after putting his book down with a sigh.

"What?" Kurt said looking up from his book to find Blaine watching him with questioning eyes.

"I always see you drawing in English," Blaine explained, "And you carry that sketchbook everywhere."

"Oh," Kurt said placing his hand on top of the sketchbook that had been sitting on top of a pile of reference books, "uh, they're fashion designs."

"Oh, wow!" Blaine exclaimed, "When Rachel said your passion was fashion, and you said you had applied to Parsons, I thought that meant you were good at dressing yourself. Which you clearly are, "Blaine said gesturing towards Kurt, "but I thought it meant putting other people's clothes onto the fashionably challenged; not that you were designing your own line."

"So you two do talk about me?" Kurt questioned.

"Not as much as you think," Blaine said with a slight smile, "Can I see?"

"Really?" Kurt asked throwing Blaine a curious look.

"My passion lies in performing, not fashion. You don't have to worry about me stealing your designs. I'm just curious if you're willing to show them."

"It's not that—"

"Plus, I think it'll be cool in ten years to say that I saw a Kurt Hummel original before it cost one hundred dollars in a boutique somewhere in New York City."

Kurt blushed, but opened to the first sketch inside his pad. He'd never shown anyone his sketches before. Well, except Rachel, of course, but she had been obligated, as his best friend, to ooh and aah at the appropriate things, no matter how good, or bad, Kurt's designs really where. But Blaine? Blaine wasn't under any obligation to like his work. He assumed that Blaine would be polite, but Kurt couldn't predict what Blaine's thoughts would be. Kurt handed the pad to Blaine, hesitantly, as if he was giving away his most treasured possession. And in a way, he was. It wasn't anywhere near complete; he'd started on it the night before. But he really loved the direction it was going. It was man's outfit. There was no color but the sketch consisted of a pair of slacks, that Kurt imagined would be a light grey; a plaid short sleeved button down, suspenders, and to top it all off, a bowtie. Kurt had imagined it would be green because Kurt had drawn it picturing Blaine as the one who would model it. The green would make Blaine's eyes sparkle just a little bit more than usual. Kurt watched as Blaine examined the sketch, hoping that Blaine wouldn't realize the fact that the sketch was drawn based on Blaine's own fashion sense.

"Your silence is absolutely terrifying," Kurt said folding his hands as if he were praying and placed them against his lips.

Blaine smiled and looked up to meet Kurt's eyes, "Don't be scared. They're good. I mean, I'm not exactly the most informed on these kinds of things, but I like them."

Kurt moved his hands away from his lips and smiled as he felt his heart expanding in his chest.

"Thanks," Kurt finally managed to mutter.

It was like Blaine's interest and approval in what Kurt had created meant as much to him as it would have had Alexander McQueen given him two thumbs up from the afterlife.

It had been in his bag all day. Another standard white envelope with the Parsons, New School for Design logo stamped on the top left corner. Kurt had tried to find time to sneak into the auditorium to open it, but the second he opened the door, he could hear Rachel and Tina rehearsing. The sound of their voices, creating smooth harmonies, tugged at Kurt's heart and after a moment he pulled himself away from the door. So Kurt resigned to opening the letter at his locker. It was too public but it was better than the bathroom.

A million thoughts ran though his mind as he tore open the seal: What if someone was actually stupid enough to reject Parsons? What if this was his acceptance? What if all they wanted was a donation? What if this broke his heart even further? Regardless of what was inside, Kurt braced himself as he pulled the paper out and unfolded it.

"Dear Mr. Hummel," it began, "We're pleased to inform you that you have been removed from the waiting list for the Fall 2012 enrollment and have been accepted to Parsons, New School for Design."

Kurt eeped a little louder than he'd intended, looking around to see if he'd attracted anyone's attention. When he saw that he hadn't, his lips moved to a broad grin. By the time he finished the letter he had received a full scholarship and in that single moment, he felt like everything was finally falling into place.

He'd done it.
He'd made it.
He was getting out…alive.

That thought ran through his mind on repeat and his entire body began to vibrate with joy so much so that he was certain everyone in the hallway could feel it too. Now there was something to look forward to. The light at the end of the dark tunnel he'd been living in since his dad died was finally in sight. Just eight more months. Eight more months and he was going to be out of Lima, in New York, and starting on the journey towards the rest of his life. He was finally on the path to the life where Lima, Ohio was nothing more than a bad ream where everything sucked.

"You look happy," Blaine said cheerily as he came up to his locker and spinning the lock.

"Parsons," Kurt said, his smile never falling, lifting up the letter, "I've been removed from the waiting list."

"Oh my god," Blaine said excited, "Kurt, that's amazing!"

Kurt had expected that reaction from Blaine. He'd expected Blaine to be genuinely, yet over-the-top, excited for Kurt. What hadn't expected was for Blaine to fling himself toward Kurt, his arms wrapping around Kurt's middle. Kurt didn't expect Blaine to say 'that's so exciting' right into his ear or the goose bumps it sent through his entire body. Or that without thinking, he dissolved into Blaine's embrace, wrapping his arms around the other boy and holding him close. He hadn't expected to like what he was feeling so much.

He was happy. And it was from a mixture of his acceptance letter, the fact that fate was finally on his side, most shockingly, Blaine. Somehow the fact that Kurt had gotten to share one of the best moments he'd had since his dad died with Blaine made Kurt dizzy. Now that Parsons and New York were finally figured out, Kurt felt like the biggest question mark in his life was sitting on top of Blaine. He'd spent so long trying to push everyone away, but when it came to Blaine, he couldn't keep himself from wanting to be around the boy. It was as if some unseen force was drawing Kurt to Blaine and there was absolutely nothing Kurt could do to stop it if he wanted to.

"We should celebrate," Blaine said pulling away, "Some of the glee kids are going to the movies tonight. You could come."

Kurt thought he saw something in Blaine's eyes as he invited Kurt out. He'd never been asked out before, but he thought for a moment that the way Blaine was suggesting he come out was as Blaine's date. He thought Blaine couldn't have possibly meant it like that, but Kurt's initial thought was to say yes. If he said yes, he could get his old life back. He could have his friends back, he could have Blaine. He could have everything he'd been longing for since the whole mess with Uncle Tim had started. But it was the thought of his uncle that turned Kurt's yes immediately to a no. He couldn't risk the backlash if Uncle Tim noticed he'd come home late. Instead, he'd spend his night in his room, probably sketching or working on homework. His life in Lima would never ben what he used to have. He could never get his friends back.

"I can't," Kurt said, "But thank you for asking."

"Are you sure?" Blaine questioned.

Kurt was glad that Blaine didn't ask him why he couldn't come, "Yeah."

"Okay, fine," Blaine said, "But then coffee is on me Tuesday."

Kurt smiled, "Deal."

Kurt stopped head in his tracks, his jaw hanging from its hinges when he saw him. It was like he'd just missed witnessing the committing of a crime, so instead he was just left with the aftermath. The carnage from this crime consisted of Blaine, his face covered in a mixture of slushed ice and red sugar water.

Blaine had been slushied.

Kurt knew that it would only be a matter of time before Karofsky and Azimio reinstated their afternoon slushie ritual, but Kurt had been certain that he would be their first target. But instead, it was Blaine who stood in front of their lockers, ice dripping down his face, looking utterly shocked and absolutely lost.

Kurt took a deep breath as he walked over to Blaine, the other boy still standing shocked, barely registering Kurt's presence. Kurt wrapped his fingers gently around Blaine's wrist and pulled him through the hallways until they reach the boy's bathroom. Luckily, class was about to start so the two stall, four urinal bathroom was empty.

Kurt moved Blaine over to the sink, turning the water on and waited until it was warm enough.

Kurt moved Blaine over to the sink and turned on the water, watching as Blaine rubbed furiously at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Kurt tested the water to make sure it was warm enough.

"Here," Kurt said grabbing Blaine by the shoulders and guiding him in front of the sink, "Rinse your eyes out. I'm sure they're burning."

Blaine did was Kurt told him, cupping the warm water in his hands them bringing it up to his face, rinsing the syrup from his eyes until he could finally see clearly again.

What he saw was Kurt, incredibly close, pulling chunks of colored from Blaine's wet hair. The gel had certainly become lose from the wetness of it all. Blaine groaned moving himself in front of the mirror, scowling at the sight. Curls had begun to come undone from his otherwise gelled down hair.

"You're going to have to wash it all out," Kurt said absentmindedly playing with one of Blaine's curls.

Kurt wondered if he was being too touchy with Blaine. They were only sort of friends and regardless of his absolutely confused feelings about Blaine, Kurt had no idea how Blaine felt. It was clear to Kurt that Blaine wanted to be his friend; but could Blaine want more than that? Kurt had been picking ice out of Blaine's hand, standing incredibly close to the other boys. Close enough to hold, close enough to kiss. The proximity was not lost on Kurt and his hands trembled just a bit as his fingers slide over Blaine's locks. Blaine hadn't shied away from Kurt's touch, so maybe, just maybe it was okay.

"Oh, no," Blaine said pulling away, eyes wide. Kurt hoped that Blaine missed him flinch at his movements. Maybe it was too much, "I didn't bring more hair gel and my hair is absolutely unreasonable without it."

"I doubt it's that bad Blaine," Kurt said, holding back the feeling of embarrassment until he figured out if Blaine had pulled away because of Kurt himself, or the idea of wearing his hair without gel, "Well you certainly can't go around with your hair the way it is now."

"This," Blaine said pointing to the top of his head, "is one hundred times better than my hair without gel."

Kurt didn't say a word, only directed a pointed look at Blaine before gesturing to the still running sink.

Ten minutes later, Blaine's hair had been rinsed of all of its gel and washed with the bottle of shampoo Kurt happened to have in his bag for situations just like this. Blaine's hair stuck, wet, to the top of his head and Kurt wondered why Blaine had made such a fuss about his hair being without gel. It wouldn't have looked like it always did, just like Blaine had taken a shower. Kurt pushed the very inappropriate thoughts that followed that from his head as Blaine ran the towel over his hair repeatedly and then stopped, but kept his hand with the towel on top of head.

"Come on, Blaine," Kurt said resisting the urge to reach out and pull at Blaine's wrist as he urged Blaine to remove the towel from his head himself.

"Kurt, "Blaine began to whine before Kurt caught his eye with a look that told Blaine if he didn't remove the towel himself, Kurt would have to do it for him.

Slowly, Blaine lifted the towel from his head, exposing his hair. It was still damp, but Kurt could already see where tiny brown curls began to billow upward from the top of Blaine's head as it dried.

"It's not that bad," Kurt said.

"Wait until it's completely dry. You should see it in the summer when the humidity is high."

"I'll remember that come June," Kurt said.

But in June, Kurt would be long gone. He'd be in New York. Far away from everything Lima, including Blaine. Kurt watched as Blaine played with his hair in the mirror. He'd had a good couple of weeks, pretending that everything was close to the way it used to be. Before the bad days, before he had to keep himself away from everyone so they wouldn't be sucked into the black hole that was becoming his life, before he came to the conclusion that it was better that he leave Lima without a single thing tying him to the sad cow town. And while it was fun to pretend that something could happen between him and Blaine, the reality of it all was that it couldn't. They would finish their English project and then they would be the two boys whose lockers just happened to be next to the others.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked interrupting Kurt's thoughts. Kurt registered the hesitance in Blaine's voice as he eyed Kurt in the mirror.

"Yeah?" Kurt replied, his voice not as strong as he wished it would have been.

"Thank you," Blaine said softly, his voice cracking as the tears began to pool in his eyes.

Kurt's heart broke again as he watched a single tear trickle down Blaine's cheek. Not once since they'd entered the bathroom had either of them really addressed what had happened to Blaine. Kurt had been too busy trying to sort through his feelings about Blaine and Blaine was too busy washing the syrup from his stinging eyes. But now that things had finally settled down, Blaine had the chance to feel the emotions involved with taking his first slushie to the face, and Kurt knew from experience that this moment sucked. He understood that feeling of absolute worthlessness that was as overwhelming as the initial cold shock of the ice hitting your face.

Kurt smiled, "You're welcome."

When it came to what instigated Uncle Tim's bad days, it was usually Kurt's fault. Not really by something he did, but because of his mere existence. It always seemed to be in Uncle Tim's way of getting what he wanted. This time was no different. Kurt knew the moment he woke up that morning that something was off. There was something in the air that told him deep in his gut that something was going to go wrong. He'd spent the last three weeks going almost completely unnoticed by Uncle Tim. But it wasn't long before the bubble would pop. Kurt walked through the front door after his study sessions with Blaine as if everything was normal. As if Kurt wasn't constantly in fear of his alcoholic, abusive, uncle.

When Kurt walked through the front door, Uncle Tim wasn't in his chair and Kurt immediately froze. The older man's car was in the driveway and for a moment Kurt wondered if would find his bedroom once again destroyed out of rage. He forced himself to take two steps into the house and could see that his bedroom door was still shut. He was relieved for only a moment before Uncle Tim came staggered out of his own bedroom, clearly inebriated. The job interview he had apparently not gone as planned.

"Where have you been?" Uncle Tim asked sharply.

"I-I was out—um—I-I was working on a project for school w-with one of the k-kids in my class." Kurt answered struggling to control the quavering in his voice.

Most of what happened next passed in a blur to Kurt. He remembered the slap to the face, the way he backed into the kitchen to get some distance between himself and Uncle Tim. He remembered the punch to the face, something being thrown and the sound of glass shattering behind him. Whatever it was, when a punch to the gut knocked the wind from Kurt's lungs and he fell to the ground, a shard of it pierced through Kurt's shirt and through his skin, lodging itself into his side, his body recoiling in pain as a whimper escaped his lips. After that, Kurt remembered little else, the pain in his side the only focus. He was aware that he was bleeding and that Uncle Tim was above him, spitting hateful words in Kurt's direction.

And then suddenly it was over.