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Sweet_Porcelain: Hey, how are you? 
Blainers93: Okay I guess. School was crap. 
Sweet_Porcelain: Isn't it always? 
Sweet_Porcelain: ;) 

Blaine smiled. This was easily the best part is day; he lived for the hours after dinner and before he went to bed where he would chat with his best friend. While other teens his age would spend their Friday nights at the movies, on dates or out partying, Blaine would sit at his desk and IM his friend well past midnight. 

Best friends the two boys might be, but there was something unusual about their relationship: 

They had never met. In fact, Blaine didn't even know the name of his friend. 

Sweet Porcelain— or “Sweet P,” the nickname Blaine referred to him in his head— was a complete stranger and yet there was no one who knew Blaine better. 

Blainers93: No kidding :) 
Sweet_Porcelain: Is the bullying getting worse? 

Blaine had met Sweet P in a chat room on a website for bullied gay teens. He had begun questioning his sexual preference around his sophomore year, and had done what any other American teen would have done his situation, scour the internet for answers. After several weeks of research, he had come across a website with chatroom dedicated to teens who needed help figuring out or coming to terms with their sexuality.

Immediately upon joining in on the conversation, Blaine had felt accepted. Every member had been welcoming and each in turn would offer their advice, wishing him luck on his road to self-discovery. It wasn’t long after that when he had formed a friendship with Sweet P, the two bonding over similar situations. Both boys were bullied for different: Blaine who was known for being nerdy and spending his free time messing around with his guitar while Sweet P was a member of his school’s Glee club and had a strong sense of fashion— or so he claimed. 

That had been a particularly memorable night. Blaine smiled as the conversations came back to him. I don’t understand how those Neanderthals can’t appreciate my perfectly good Alexander McQueen Spring Collection he had written, cheekily, Blaine had responded. Are you sure you’re as fashionable as you think you are? This had set the other teen off, ranting about how his style was impeccable and that no one at his school could compare to him.

Blainers93: Not any worse, it’s just getting harder and harder to endure every day.

Sweet_Porcelain: I know how you feel. Remember what you told me? Courage. Stay strong, I believe you can survive anything. J

Blainers93: Thanks, I wish I had as much faith in myself as you do.

Even though Blaine had accepted who he was over a few months ago, the only person who he had come out to was veiled by the anonymity that is the internet. Sweet P had admitted to Blaine that he had come out to his friends and in turn his school and his life had been hell ever since. Horror stories of name calling, physical abuse and gossip behind his back had been recounted by the boy and Blaine was afraid of the same thing happening to him. He was also afraid of telling his parents, fearing their reaction. Instead his parents believed that he hadn’t found the right girl and hoped that he would find someone once he went to college.

I wish things could be different for us. Blaine had written one day after Sweet P had told him about being shoved against lockers once again. 

Sweet_Porcelain: What do you mean?

Blainers93: I wish that we could be out and proud, without the fear of negative retaliation.

Blainers93: You know, be out and not judged for who we are.

Blainers93: They’re wrong. We can’t help it if we are attracted to the same gender. Why does it matter?

Sweet_Porcelain: It shouldn’t matter. And I don’t know about you, but here in Ohio, people aren’t about to march in a gay pride parade. It isn’t like San Francisco or New York. I hate it here, I can’t wait until I can leave.

It was shocking to lean that Sweet P lived in the same state as Blaine did; teens from all around the country accessed that chatroom and yet the one he had befriended lived within the same state as he did. What were the odds?

Blainers93: You’ll do great in NYC, I can totally see you living there. Just one more year.

Sweet_Porcelain: You can see me living in New York and you’ve never met me? You aren’t some kind of stalker are you?

Blainers93: Not unless I have some kind of alter-ego that I’m not aware of. Maybe I turn into him when I fall asleep?

Sweet_Porcelain: You better not be, or else I’ve been pouring my heart and soul out to some creeper.

It was comments like this that made Blaine’s heart stop with joy. They had been friends for months, or course he knew that Sweet P had told him things that he was afraid of admitting to other people, hadn’t Blaine done the same? There was something about seeing that fact written that made it much more real.

December came, and Blaine was still spending every possible moment online, trying to escape reality. It was harder now with finals coming up, but the Civil War wasn’t nearly as important than his online friendship and he often found himself dropping everything when Sweet P sent him a message and went to the extreme or setting his status to “available” even when he was busy, hoping to see the new message alert bubble pop up on his laptop. He didn’t know why, but every time that bubble popped up with a soft ding, his face lit up and butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. 

The time spent waiting between messages was the worst; even a few seconds felt like hours. Short, often one or two word messages kept Blaine sane, but it was the longer, more detailed ones where the ones that he went back to over and over, even days later, trying to figure out every possible meaning behind the words.  

Sweet_Porcelain: Why can’t I kiss the boyfriend under the mistletoe in front of the school just like every other couple?

Blainers93: Well you could, you just might get punched for it. ;)

Sweet_Porcelain: Not helping.

Blainers93: Sorry, bad day?

Sweet_Porcelain: The worst.

Sweet_Porcelain: I just wish I could be the one to be wrapped around the guy I like, moving my lips against his you know? I see these couples, straight couples and they just look so happy. I can’t even look at a guy for fear of him taking it the wrong way! I just want to be like everyone else. Is it so wrong to want to be wanted?

Blainers93: You’re special, if I can see that based off online conversations then everyone else should be able to see that too. Don’t strive to be like them, strive to be the best you possible. Screw them.

Sweet_Porcelain: Thanks. You give the best advice you know that. You’re going to be a great boyfriend to someone one day, whoever he is, he’s lucky.

Sweet_Porcelain: I’m so glad you’re in my life. 

These words haunted Blaine’s thoughts. What did they even mean? It should have been obvious; Sweet P thought that Blaine would make a good boyfriend. But what about that second part?  Why did seven simple words make his stomach flip? It was a simple sentence, a thought that Blaine had thought about Sweet P multiple times. Why was this any different?

After Christmas came New Years. Blaine was left alone, his parents having gone to a party hosted by some family friend whom he had never met. He didn’t mind being left at home, it was a few hours where he could his time on the computer without his parents subtle hints of possibly logging off every once and a while.

Blainers93: What do you think it’s like to be kissed at midnight?

Sweet_Porcelain: I have no idea, I haven’t been kissed yet.

Blainers93: Yeah me too. Guess I’d better start small.

Sweet_Porcelain: Dreaming big isn’t a bad thing, it gives you something to work toward.  

Midnight came and went and Blaine had watched the ball drop, Ryan Seacrest, Dick Clark and the thousands of people gather in Times Square dancing on the television screen his only company. Deciding that it would be best for his parents to find him in bed when they returned home, even if it was Blaine feigning sleep, the teen began to get ready for bed, double checking that the front door was locked but the porch light was on. Once the lights in the kitchen and living room were turned off, he made his way back to his room, squinting in the darkness, occasionally tripping over something hidden in the dim light, cursing loudly when he nearly fell over the edge of a hall rug.

It was only when he finally settled on the bed in his dark room, the only light coming from his still open laptop did Blaine notice that he had an unread IM the time stamp reading 12:00 AM.

Sweet_Porcelain: Happy New Year.

Sweet_Porcelain: Maybe next year we’ll get those kisses.    

That night, Blaine dreamed about kissing. He was pressed up against a wall, moving his lips against that of a faceless stranger’s, his hands gripping Blaine’s dark curls. The scene changed and Blaine and the same boy were laying side-by-side in the grass, the other boy rolling Blaine onto his back taking control of the kiss. Similar scene’s played through his mind as he slept, each dream as vivid as the last. It wasn’t until the next morning, awakened by the beeping of his alarm, did he realize that the stranger in his dreams was identical to the image he had created of Sweet P.

He was falling for a guy he had never seen a picture of, never met, never even physically spoken to.   

A month and a half after New Year’s Blaine and his mystery friend hadn’t had any more conversations dealing with relationships for which Blaine was glad. Whenever he allowed his conscious mind to slip away for even a second, he thought of Sweet P. The times that this had occurred, a smile would grace his lips and a his eyes would be glassy, seeing not the world in front of him, but images of himself holding hands or cuddling with the faceless man from his dreams.

His dreams were his escape; the beautiful times when he could escape the cruel reality that was life and fall into the world his sub-conscious mind created. Unfortunately, his dreams were just as worse as his day dreams, and he often woke up and confused, certain that his lips should be swollen from kissing, neck covered in angry red splotches from Sweet P’s teeth nibbling his skin.

Blaine’s confusion wasn’t helped the week before his favorite holiday when a concerning IM popped up on his computer screen.   

Sweet_Porcelain: I hate Valentine’s day.

Blainers93: Straight couples pissing you off again?

Blainers93: You still there?

Blainers93: …

Blainers93: Sorry, sensitive subject?

Sweet_Porcelain: Yes.

Blainers93: Oh.

Blainers93: Ummm, do you wanna talk about it?

Blainers93: You know that I’m a good listener

Blainers93: Well, alright. You know that I’m here for you.

Blainers93: If you want to talk.  

Sweet_Porcelain: Yeah, okay.

Sweet_Porcelain: I guess you’re the only one who’ll get it.

Sweet_Porcelain: Hold on, its kinda a long story

Blainers93: Take your time. I’ll just work on homework of something until you’re finished with your explanation.

But Blaine didn’t return his attention to the verbs he was supposed to be conjugating for Spanish. Sweet P’s unusually short answers concerned Blaine; in the past, even when his companion was angry or depressed, he was still willing to discuss his issues with little persuasion on Blaine’s behalf. Something was wrong, that much was clear, but he couldn’t figure out what, the difficulty of deciphering tone though online conversations not aiding Blaine in any way.

Sweet_Porcelain: First off, you have to understand, I’ve never liked Valentine ’s Day. In my mind, it’s just a commercial holiday created by Hallmark to increase revenue in the time between Christmas and Easter. But I dunno, for some reason this year, seeing all of the red and pink crap decorating my school, plus all of the couples being all lovey dovey is just sickening me, more so than usual. I just… I, with all of the bullying that’s been happening, I don’t know if I believe in love. I’ve told you I’ve always been bullied for being different, it just now, it’s gotten so bad that I don’t know if I can take it anymore. I know that my friends see a change in me, I know that I’m acting different, I’m not as happy as I used to be, I’m not finding joy in what used to make me happy, but I don’t know how to change it. I want to scream until my lungs give out and I want to cry until I don’t have any more tears. I hate it. I hate thinking I won’t ever find someone to hold on to, to share fleeting glances with or that secret smile and Valentine’s Day is just a cruel reminder that I might never have those things.

Sweet_Porcelain: I hate feeling alone.

Blainers93: You aren’t alone. You won’t ever be alone because you have people in your life that love you. You have a step-brother and parents that will stand by you no matter what happens. I’ve seen the way you talk about them and I know that it isn’t my place, but can you try talking to them? I think they’d like to know what’s going on. They’d like to know that you’re feeling so hopeless.
As for the whole love thing… Just because two people date in high school, doesn’t mean they’ll end up married. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have something that lasts, even if I have to wait for it; I don’t want to be in a relationship just to be in a relationship if they person is going to use me or treat me like crap.

Sweet_Porcelain: You are amazing, you know that. I’m jealous of whomever you’ll end up with. He’ll be a lucky guy :)

It took all of Blaine’s willpower to not respond with: You could be him if you wanted to or something equally cheesy and yet damming at the same time, but he didn’t have the guts to send this to a stranger, let alone a guy who was having self-confidence issues.

Three days later, Blaine’s world turned upside-down.   

Sweet_Porcelain: Ugh, I have to go wash out grape slushie from my hair.

Blainers93: Why is it in your hair?

Sweet_Porcelain: Bullies at school dump them on me and my friends, they’re called “Slushie Facials.

Blaine’s heart stopped, there was no way that he could be talking to someone for McKinley, it wasn’t statistically possible.

He mentally slapped himself, how many high schools had kids that dumped slushies on students? There couldn’t be very many, especially since Sweet P had admitted that he lived in Ohio, which narrowed down the location from fifty states to one. Unless he had been fed lies, Blaine could only assume that he and this stranger went to the same high school.

Sometimes it sucks being the only openly gay kid at school, my friends are great, but I wish I could have someone who was in my situation to talk to. Sometimes I think my friends don’t understand.

Why do you want to know about my screen-name? Well, if you must know, the Cheer Coach at my HS has a thing for calling people derogatory nicknames. This one is mine. She used to call me “lady” but for some reason she stopped when I asked her to. Sweet Porcelain is actually kind coming from her. The alternative was “Tickle Me Dough Face” ugh.

Well, my dream is to go to college in New York. My friend Rachel and I want to go to The New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. What are your dreams? 

I have the weirdest friends, we’re all in Glee club and I’m pretty sure that it’s pretty much a requirement that you have to be crazy to join 

Ugh, that reminds me of the time the Glee Club was preforming a Ke$ha song in front of the whole school and one of the girls puked in the middle of the number. That was so embarrassing.  

Oh.

Shit.

As far as he knew, there was only one openly gay male at McKinley and he was in the Glee Club, the same Glee club that had performed Tik Tok the year before and Brittany, the soloist for the performance had puked on stage, causing a chain reaction.  Blaine had witnessed him being taunted by the same bullies that made his life hell; seen those same bullies dump various colors and flavors of slushie on his head. It was stupid of him to not even see some resemblance between the two, but there was no mistaking it.

Kurt Hummel.

He was the one who Blaine had been talking to this entire time, he just hadn’t seen it.  

The very Kurt Hummel who, two years ago, Blaine had seen dancing alongside the Cheerios and had kicked the extra point that would win the Titans their first football game in forever; the one who had dreams of going to New York with his friend Rachel Berry, the place where they would both become stars; the same Kurt Hummel who was the best dressed guy at school and sang like a dream.

The one who had made Blaine question his sexuality.

There was no denying it now, he was in love with Sweet Porcelain.

In the weeks following this realization, Blaine had tried to stay away from the internet, but failed, not able to survive not knowing exactly what was going on in Sweet P’s life. It was stupid of him to continue to keep calling Kurt that in his head, not now that he was 99% sure that it was indeed Kurt who was on the receiving of his messages, but Blaine couldn’t help it. He still wished that he didn’t know the identity of his correspondent; it felt too personal knowing the secrets of someone he shared classes with. There were times he caught himself staring at Kurt, who, like most people were oblivious to Blaine’s existence.

Sweet_Porcelain: I thought you said a few weeks ago that you couldn’t spend as much time on the computer. She threatened to ground you or something.

Blainers93: Yeah, well, I just keep telling her that I’m doing research for a paper that is due by the end of the semester. Technically I’m not lying, I do have a paper due, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t multitask. ;)

Sweet_Porcelain: How rebellious of you. I approve. 

Blainers93: It’s because you love talking to me.

Sweet_Porcelain: Sigh, it’s true.

Blainers93: Why thank you.

Although his mother had expressed a desire for her son to go out and more social, she had never threatened Blaine with no internet access. He knew that his anti-social behavior had gotten to the point where his parents would probably reward his if he came home past curfew, possibly drunk with his lips stained with some girls lipstick.

It had been the first lie he had told Sweet P, preferring to be completely honest in their conversations. Yes he knew that people lived for the lies posted on the internet, but Blaine couldn’t bring himself to do it, not with something as personal as his sexual preference. When he had started considering the fact that he might be gay, he wanted to be completely honest with himself and those who might be able to help him, hoping that they were being just as honest in return.

When his online conversations with Sweet P have moved from the chatrooms and on the more private world of MSN, this philosophy didn’t change; the two boys had an unspoken agreement where if one asked a question too personal, the other would simply state that it was something they didn’t want answer and they would move on to the next topic, no questions asked. The did have a few exceptions, like the Valentine’s Day conversation, where the one asking the question would prod the other, usually spamming them until a response was given. Usually after this occurred, the reluctant one was glad he was pushed into confessing.

His feelings were driving crazy and Blaine wasn’t sure how much longer he could take. He had spent the past year keeping his sexuality a secret and now this newfound love for Kurt Hummel wasn’t helping. Frustrated, he pulled out his phone, hoping that Kurt was in a class where he could respond.

Blainers93: Hey, I know you have school, but I need some advice.

Thank god for smartphones. Modern day technology made things almost too easy. He couldn’t remember who had initiated phone to phone contact, but a few months ago, Blaine’s online friendship moved evolved to include the default IM app downloaded onto his device.

Sweet_Porcelain: I’m in French, but I can afford to not pay attention. What’s up? Is everything alright?

Yeah, everything is fine. I just—

Blaine paused in the middle of his message, he just, what? He couldn’t write “I’m in love with you even though we never met. And oh by the way, we go to the same school.” That would be creepy.

Sweet_Porcelain:  You okay?

This was a bad idea. Even confessing his feelings to Sweet P, even without identifying that he was the object of Blaine’s affection, wasn’t logical and it wasn’t smart. He deleted the text and restarted his response.

Blainers93: Yeah, I’m fine, just being stupid. Forget it, it’s nothing.

Sweet_Porcelain: Don’t give me that crap. What’s wrong?

Sweet_Porcelain: I will have an answer.

Sweet_Porcelain: I can be very persuasive.

Blainers93: I’m in class.

Sweet_Porcelain: You IM’d me.

Blaineer93: Oh.

Blainers93: Right  

Sweet_Porcelain: Mmn hm.

Sweet_Porcelain: Spill.

Blainers93: I like this guy. Or I think I like this guy, but he has no idea I exist and I don’t know him personally, but I do. It’s so complicated. Maybe I like the idea of liking him and I don’t actually like him.

Sweet_Porcelain: Is he out?

Blainers93: Yes. Out and proud. I’m 100% sure.

Sweet_Porcelain: Then what the problem?

Blainers93: I’m not out.

Sweet_Porcelain: So?

Blainers93: Would you want to date a closeted guy?

Sweet_Porcelain: No, I don’t think I would.

Blainers93: Yeah, me neither.

Sweet_Porcelain: Good point .

Sweet_Porcelain: Is he worth coming out for?

His phone slipped out of his hand, clattering to the floor. His teacher looked up at the sound, scanning the room, eyes landing on Blaine. “Mr Anderson, you’re lucky that we finished our lecture early. Texting in class is against school policy and would normally warrant a detention and confiscation of your device. Please put your phone away, if I see it out again, you will be disciplined.”

“Yes Mrs. Cruz.” He glanced at the screen before stowing his phone in his pocket.

Sweet_Porcelain: The bell is about to ring and I can’t really text/IM in my next class. Think about it.

Blaine was thinking about it alright, it was the only thing on his mind.

The next few weeks went by in a blur, Blaine only remembering each day by the conversations he had with Kurt. 

Sweet_Porcelain: So, have you thought about what I said?

Blainers93: Yeah, I have. I think it might be worth it, but I’m just so scared. I don’t care what people would think, but I don’t want him to become more of a target than he already is.

Sweet_Porcelain: Hmmm, you may be on to something. I didn’t think of that. I guess I was too caught up in the romance or something. It’s like a cheesy romance movie.

Blainers93: Are you implying that my life is a cheesy romance movie?

Sweet_Porcelain: I did. There is nothing wrong with that. I would take any romance movie between two guys, no matter how cheesy. Our relationships are seriously under-represented in the media you know. And when homosexual partnerships are displayed, it is usually in a negative manner.

Blainers93: Yeah, okay.

Sweet_Porcelain: I’m serious.

They had many conversations like this but Blaine was very careful, not wanting to give anything away, afraid it would give something away. His greatest fear was that Sweet P would figure out he was the one Blaine was falling for, even if he didn’t know they attended the same school.

Why he was still referring to Kurt by that stupid nickname?

Because by doing so he was able to differentiate his friend Sweet P and the mysterious Kurt Hummel?

Because he knew Sweet P and Sweet P knew him, but Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel were strangers?

Because he feared that even though Sweet P liked him, Kurt wouldn’t?

Because Blaine was afraid of being rejected by Kurt, thus losing his friend?

Yeah, something like that.

The week following Spring Break marked the start of the home stretch; the school year was almost over, but Blaine knew that if he didn’t say anything to Kurt now, he would never get his opportunity once he left for New York.

The Sunday before school started Blaine resolved himself to at least speak to Kurt, but every time he tried walking up to him, something stopped him and he instead rushed past the other boy.

By Thursday, Blaine was getting desperate and it was getting to the point where he wanted to do something drastic. Unfortunately, his opportunity never came, the weekend passed and Blaine had lost any courage he had mustered, deciding that it would be better to not know what could have been, believing that a life of regret was better than embarrassing himself in front of the only boy who had ever accepted him.

Between Nationals for Glee, Graduation and college acceptance letters, Sweet P was extremely busy and didn’t have time for long conversations. Blaine understood completely, in fact, he was almost glad for the lull in their contact, it allowed him to loose himself in his thoughts without the intuition of Kurt or Sweet P or whoever the hell he was, getting in the way.

Blaine was beginning to feel depressed, but was certain that no one except his parents had noticed. Not knowing what to do, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson just let his son be, assuming that finals were stressing him out and he would be better once summer vacation started.

One day, after a particularly brutal U.S. History exam, Blaine was walking down the halls of McKinley, headed toward his locker when he was suddenly doused in an ice cold liquid that stung as it dripped into his eyes.

“Enjoy loser!” a jubilant voice called out. Through his tearing eyes, Blaine could make out the blurred outlines of three jocks strutting down the hall, two of them high-fiving as the other laughed heartily. Around him, students were gathered in groups, giving him an almost pitying look, but not bothering to move and help him.

If it weren’t for the warm hand the pulled him forward, Blaine probably would have stood in the hall all day, a puddle of purple staining the floor as melted slushie dripped down his body, leaving tracks in the fabric of his white cardigan. “Here, come with,” the person said and Blaine’s heart fluttered rapidly, it was Kurt. Of all the people who could help him, it had to be the one boy whom he wanted, needed, to impress. 

Kurt’s hand, which was curled around Blaine’s bicep felt warm, even against his now cool skin as he lead the younger boy to the nearest bathroom.  “Take this and sit down,” Kurt said, pressing something into Blaine’s hands.

He blindly grasped a damp paper towel and sat down in a metal folding chair that Kurt had set up, back to the sink. “We keep it stored in the handicap stall,” he explained, “It’s easier to wash the syrup out of our hair that way.” Kurt studied Blaine for a moment before kneeling to the ground and taking back the damp cloth. “You look like lost, drowned puppy, is this the first time they’ve gotten you?”

Blaine nodded, eyes falling shut as Kurt wiped away purple syrup and stray bits of ice. “We’ll then, as a slushie facial veteran, I suggest that you wash your clothes as soon as you get home, they dye won’t stain, but its best to not let it set, just in case.” He stood, tossing the paper towel into the trash and grabbed another one. “And your eyes are going to sting for a while, not much you can do about that. Flushing them out with water helps, but not much; the burning should subside in an hour or two.” He smiled apologetically.” Lean back so your head is in the sink.”

He obeyed silently, wincing slightly as cold water hit his scalp. “Sorry,” Kurt apologized, but there are only two temperatures in the bathrooms, cold and not so cold. This is as warm as it gets.”

“It’s fine,” said Blaine, speaking for the first time since he had been hit.  

Time passed slowly, both boys were missing class, but neither mentioned it. Kurt hummed softly to himself as he skillfully combed his fingers through Blaine’s curls washing away the stickiness. “So much gel,” he murmured at one point, gently tugging at a tangle, “why do you use so much damn gel?”

Shrugging awkwardly, Blaine explained, “My hair is impossible to work with. If I left it free, it would probably eat something.  All the gel is the best way to keep it tame.”

“You should leave it free once and a while, we might get lucky and it may eat Azimo or Karofsky, then we wouldn’t have to deal with stuff like this.”

Blaine laughed, sending water everywhere; Kurt’s shrieks joining Blaine’s laughter as the sounds echoed off the walls. 

“You realize that this is a one of a kind jacket right?”

Blaine stopped laughing and sat upright, water dripping down his back, further soaking his clothes. “I didn’t ruin it did I?”

Kurt’s eyes softened, taking in Blaine’s worried expression. “No, it’s just water. Don’t worry.” He grabbed and handful of paper towels and began blotting Blaine’s hair dry.

“Why are you helping me?” Blaine asked suddenly, regretting it instantly when Kurt’s hands fell limply to his sides.

“I know what it’s like,” he said softly. “And sometimes I wish that someone other than my friends would be kind enough to assist. But, that’s what friends are for, right?” He gave Blaine a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Blaine bit his lip. It was now or never; he wasn’t going to get a chance like this again. “No, not just for this,” he paused, taking in Kurt’s confused face. “I’m gay too, you helped me realize that.”

“Oh, well, that’s—” he stopped, falling silent as the shorter boy held up his hand, not quite finished.

“I really like you Kurt, a lot, but I need to know something and you need to know something about me.” He took a deep breath, “I’m Blainers ‘93 and I know that you’re Sweet Porcelain. Are you the same guy that I met online? Or do you lead some double life? Because I fell in love with Sweet Porcelain and if that isn’t really who you are, then I’m wasting my time.

“Oh holy Prada, there is no way…” he trailed off, realizing where the conversation was going. “Blainers… Blaine Anderson. I am so stupid.”

Blaine shook his head, “There is no way you could have known. I didn’t know for sure until right before Valentine’s Day when you mentioned getting slushied.”

“Oh, god, I told you everything?”

Grasping Kurt’s hands in his own, Blaine looked the other boy directly in the eyes, blue reluctantly meeting hazel. “All of your secrets are safe with me, I promise.”

“I just can’t believe, the odds, this can’t, I didn’t realize that it was you! I didn’t even know you were gay!”

“You were, you are, the only one who knows.” Kurt collapsed to a sitting position on the floor, resting his back against the tiled wall. Blaine bit his lip, but continued before he lost his courage, “You’re worth coming out for.”

Their eyes met again. “You mean that?” The taller boy’s voice was soft, so soft that Blaine almost missed his words.

He nodded, loose curls bouncing slightly.

Kurt closed his eyes, head falling against the wall. He sat like this for a few minutes, Blaine worried that he has screwed up. In a bold move that could potentially make things worse, he pulled out his phone. A few seconds later, Kurt’s phone buzzed in his pocket; he pulled it out, reading the new IM.

Blainers93: I really enjoy talking with you, even if before now it wasn’t face to face or over the phone. You understand me, you’re the only person who knows everything about me and you still accept who I am, despite the fact that I sometimes I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t chose to be gay, or socially awkward, yet you made me feel like those qualities didn’t matter; you helped me accept who I am, who I can be.

I want to make you feel what I feel when I think of you; I want to treat you right, if you’ll let me.

Biting his lip, Kurt looked up. “Alright.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

A grin broke out across Blaine’s face and he leapt from the chair, holding his hand out to Kurt, who took it graciously and stood. The two boys looked at each other, Blaine’s sappy smile so unlike Kurt’s smaller, more secretive one; both their eyes sparkled with genuine happiness.

“Can you skip class?” Kurt asked tentatively.

“What does it look like I’m doing now?”

They grinned at each other again, Blaine hesitantly reaching up to brush a strand of hair off Kurt’s face. The older boy smiled, “Want to get coffee? We can talk, for real this time. Face to face; no computers, no chatrooms, no phones, just you and me.”

Blaine nodded, “I love that idea.”

They exited the bathroom, Kurt’s fingers brushing against the back of Blaine’s hand as they walked side-by-side. “Do we need to stop at your house for a fresh set of clothes?” he asked taking in the fabric splotched with purple food coloring and water.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

They reached the parking lot, pausing to look around for any staff members who may give them detention if they saw them ditching. Kurt moved to slide into the drives seat of his car, but Blaine stopped him.  “I have one more confession,” he said nervously.

Kurt raised his eyebrows expectantly but didn’t say anything.  

Blaine took a deep breath, “Before I knew you were you, I sort of gave you a nickname, in my head.” He swallowed, “I called you Sweet P.”

To his surprise, Kurt started laughing. “Sweet P, really? That’s hilarious, but not nearly as funny as the nickname I gave you.”

“You gave me a nickname too? What is it?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Please?”

“Get in the car Blaine.”

“What is it?”

Sighing, Kurt looked at him and said, “Buy me coffee and I’ll think about telling you.”

“Fair enough. Now tell me.”

“Get in the car.”