Chapter One

The simplicity of the green-walled room irked Kurt Hummel to no end. Maybe it was the dark stain on the ceiling, perhaps the murky brown colored tiles, but he couldnt seem to bring himself to terms with the new surrounding. 

He supposed he should be warmer to the new house, after all, hed be spending the last of his high school days here. Something about it felt too plain, too simple to Kurt. Perhaps a nice painting, a new couch would make it seem warmer, more welcoming, but somehow Kurt doubted it would help in the slightest bit.

"Like it?" The voice came drifting toward him from the front doorway, gruff and strong, yet still terribly weak. "Its the best one on the market here. Quite a catch, believe it or not."

Not, Kurt thought sagely, his eyes scanning the bare walls. Something so terribly wrong vibrated off of them, something that sent a slight shudder of disgust down the boys spine. 

"Well, what do you think, Kiddo?" His fathers voice carried over to him faster this time, and Kurt felt a strong arm drape across his shoulders. Strong, but tired , Kurt noted. "Arent you mesmerized?"

"Absolutely charmed," he replied bitterly, the last word leaving his mouth in a particularly nasty manner.

His father sighed, his arm slumping away from Kurts shoulders. "Look, I know youre very upset about moving here-"

"-absolutely outraged-"

"-and I know youre having trouble coping-"

"-terribly conflicted, actually-"

"-but this is for the best, Kurt. For the both of us."

Kurt huffed in disagreement, crossing his arms and staring judgingly at the green wall.

For the best? He had no idea what that meant in his fathers mind, but he doubted it followed in tow with what it meant 

Without doubt, Kurt was upset to have to move to another excluded, homophobic town just because the last one had failed him. For all Kurt knew, Lima was no better than Banksbrooke; on the ride there, all he had seen were street and frat boys with shaggy hair that talked in a confusing street tongue, mainly consisting of the words dog and swag. 

He and his father had never really seemed to agree on these types of things, especially not when the topic was their living location, so he stayed silent and watched idly as his father pushed his suitcases up the stairs. 

Things had been different ever since little six-year-old Kurt Hummel had come home from school one day, a particularly interesting question slipping off of his tongue.

"Can boys like other boys too, Papa?"

His father had nearly choked on his own breath, a series of "Yes," "No," and "Ask your mother," shooting out of his mouth at a record-breaking speed.

But of course, when Kurt actually had conjured up the nerve to ask his mother on a Tuesday, he had come home to a house of one over-dosed occupent, who was, of course, Lina Hummel.

Maybe he should have asked his mother. Kurt thought about this on a regular basis, because perhaps if he had, his mother would have sticked around a little longer, and his father wouldve noticed just how many pain pills his mother took a day, and maybe he wouldnt be stuck moving to town to town, running away from a problem that stretched across the world like a tsunami, always chasing and drowning them.

Kurts past five years of life had consisted of unusually short stretches of time in small towns in the outskirts of cities and states, never having time to grow attached to the schools or the people attending them.

Maybe he should be ashamed that his life consisted of only three things: school, dad, gym. Maybe he should be sorry to not be participating or hangin out with friends. But Kurt usually couldnt find anything worth participating in that wouldnt upgrade his gay status to 1000+ or get him thrown in a dumpster, and with the previous statement, its easy to see why friends werent an option. He was certain McKinley High wouldnt offer anything different; it was most likely to be another run-down, homophobic school of jocks and cheerleaders that consisted solely of the Prep Ladder, as his old school had named it, rating people on beauty and popularity and coolness.

Kurts eyes skimmed the room once more, before moving up the stairs to judge the rest of the so-called

 home.

Needless to say, the house was absolute crap to Kurt.

The walls were all the same dull green, all accept the guest bedroom, which was a bright mustard color with grey doors. The windows were angled oddly in every room, so that light bounced off of the most ridiculous details of the rooms. Kurt was able to notice a small crease in the paint of his chosen bedroom thanks to this, opening up a new reason to rant to his father. 

The only highpoint of the house was the large backyard, which contained a large oak tree, much to Kurts appreciation.

He studied the tree closely. The trunks bark was lined and creased with odd shapes that made Kurt stare in wonder. There was one particular shape that Kurt studied especially close. The lines were deeper and messier, as if carved with stone. The shapes seemed to be letters, though Kurt could only make out a C and a D. The leaves of the tree were a magnificent shade of green, and they smelled of rain and mulch and sunshine to Kurt. The branches of the tree reached out to him, as if inviting him into its arms. The trunk swelled inward a foot above the bottom, giving the perfect amount of leverage for Kurt to hunch himself onto a thick branch.

Kurt was absolutely sure the tree was made for him.

The thicker branches snaked below his back, allowing him to lay peacefully without having to worry about falling. Another branch snaked up above him, stooping low at first and then soaring him into the sky, blocking out the the sun. He allowed himself to prop his feet up on this part of the tree. 

He sat there in bliss, allowing the wonderful smell of the leaves drift down to him. They smelled oddly sweet, Kurt noted. Far too sweet for an oak tree. And the bark was far too slick to be an oak tree, opposed to the usual richness they usually had. He stared at the leaves in wonder, his eyes scanning over the leaves and bark with a curious look in his eye.

He mustve been looking at the leaves for an hour, at the least, because just as the sun began to set, he noticed a small, orange roundness on one leaf. And then on another, and another.

He was surrounded by them. Literally. Little orange dots, all around the tree. 

It must be a orange tree. Kurt thought. He considered this, but then excused the premonition because no, oranges did not grow on trees. Not ones like that, anyway.

Clementines, he mused. He looked up at the little balls of fruit thoughtfully. Yes, that seemed accurate. It was certainly big enough to be a clementine tree. And it had more than enough clementines on it to prove it, and Kurt did think clementines would be in season sometime that spring. 

He mustve sat in the clementine tree for hours, because by the time his father called him in for supper, Kurts phone said it was already 9:39. He talked animatedly about the tree. Between forkfulls of salad, hed talk about the leaves and bark, and between sips of water, he talked about the small clementines growing on it. His father looked completely amused, if nothing else.

"I knew youd like it," he said happily, rinsing his plate off after Kurt finished gushing about the tree. He smiled at his father, rinsing off his own before heading off to bed.

His room had a perfect view of the tree. He noticed how it slumped foward a bit from the angle of the window. He supposed that was why it seemed like it was beckoning him into its branches. The soil looked much too wet in the front of the tree, and Kurt reminded himself to take care of that as he applied moisturizer to his face. He also had a perfect view of his neighbors backyard. He only glanced at it, not allowing himself to stare because he might become that neighbor. It was large, but contained no tree. Just a patch of strawberries and a bunch of Gardenias and roses in the far corner. It was nothing special- not to Kurt, anyway. He slid into his bed, or more so sleeping bag, as they hadnt moved any furniture in yet, with a soft smile on his face. The clementine trees leaves brustled lightly in the wind, and Kurt wasnt sure if he dreamed of the deep green leaves or if, at some point in the night, he had walked to his window to stare at them, but he most definitely saw them. 

His dreams were filled with swirls or orange and green and deep brown. Rays of yellow and patches of green that made him smile in his sleep.

It was only then that Kurt actually felt...nice about moving. And it was only then that he forgot about the new school he had to attend, the homophobic bastards that would probably bully him until he finally moved again, or  the judging eyes that would land on him when he walked into McKinley. 

And only then did he feel completely and utterly at bliss.