"Brittany S. Pierce! Congratulations! Good effort by the candidates, achievment!"

And the world froze.

His rapidly beating heart faltered, his hopeful grin broke, leaving behind a vacant expression.

He had lost.

It was over.

NYADA with Rachel, New York, the future...

all gone within seconds.

An unnamed hand reached over behind him and patted him on the back reassuringly. He could feel the stares, the plastered on pity smiles burning a hole through the back of his head.

The room started to spin, desks and posters and people becoming a blur of nothingness. His skin prickled, and suddenly his clothes felt too tight, to constricting.

Kurt shot out of his chair, walking up to the teacher's desk stiffly. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was too dry, parched from the sting of failure. Of dreams shattered. Hope lost. He coughed, regaining his voice, and he spoke with no emotion, devoid of feeling. "I need to go to the bathroom, I don't feel well." Without waiting for an answer, he walked out of the room, breaking into a sprint as soon as he hit the hallway.

He ran, far from meaningless phrases and superficial smiles, from failure, from broken dreams, from a future. He ran and he ran, not knowing where he was going, stopping only when he was out of breath. He slammed against the wall, his knees bucked, and he slid down until he was sitting, pulling his legs to his chest. He wouldn't cry, he promised. His eyes stung and his throat was thick, but he wouldn't cry, no no no.

There's no use in crying.

_____________

"Alright, thank you, girls for your...interesting perfomance. Job well done!" Mr. Schue smiled eagerly, his eyes scanning the seats for Kurt. "Kurt, you have something ready for us, too, no?"

Upon hearing his name, Kurt picked up his head, shaking himself out of his temporary daze. "Yeah. I mean, yes, I do." Kurt got out of his seat, passing Blaine along the way, avoiding his concerned gaze. He hadn't spoken to Blaine since this morning. Since before... Maybe it was because Kurt had turned off his phone. Maybe it was because he couldn't look Blaine in the eyes without breaking down, without admitting defeat.

Walking to the front of the room, Kurt motioned for the band to begin. Looking at Santana, he put on a fake smile and began.

Made a wrong turn, once or twice.
Dug my way out, blood and fire.
Bad decisions, that's alright.
Welcome to my silly life.

The music paused temporarily, and Kurt struggled to keep back the tears that threatened to spill over, to expose his facade. And he sung, each lyric hit him like bullet, the truth in the words slicing through his invisible shield.

M-mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood

His voice shook, and he stumbled over the words.

Miss 'No way, it's all good'

He felt his heart in his ears, and he shut his eyes closed, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to keep in the hurt, the rawness of it all.


It didn't slow me down.


Mistaken, always second guessing

And the tears that he fought so hard to resist, to hold back, brimmed in his eyes, finally spilling over, streaming down his cheeks, unbearable. He couldn't pretend anymore.


Underestimated, look I'm still around

He choked the last line out, his voice cracking, his whole body sore, aching with the pain of knowing there's nothing left.

Pretty pr-

And suddenly his voice was joined by a lower, deeper one. A voice he knew all to well. The voice that told him he loved him, the voice that ordered him coffee, the voice that broke down every wall he had ever put up.

Kurt looked up at the crowd, to Blaine, who was singing along. His face crumpled into defeat, and with that Blaine sang even louder, getting out of his seat to stand next to Kurt.


Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me.

And then Blaine arms were around him, holding him tightly, protecting him. Kurt looked into his eyes, honey gold, swimming with their own tears, as he continued singing, Blaine echoing him.

You're so mean when you talk
About yourself. You were wrong.
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead.

Blaine stared into Kurt's eyes, trying with all his might to convey every message of love and care with it. He harmonized with Kurt, bringing a hand up to wipe away the tears falling from his eyes with his thumb. They sang together, finishing the song with a final repetition of the chorus.

I'm Pretty, pretty, pretty
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me
(You're perfect, you're perfect)
Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than, less than perfect.
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you are perfect to me.

The music ended, the silence deafening in the room. Kurt and Blaine stared at each other, eyes wide with emotion and vulnerabililty. The room remained silent, only the sound of their breathing audible, no one daring to utter a single word.

Kurt smiled weakly, pulling Blaine into a tight embrace. "Thank you," he whispered. He hugged him with all his might, nuzzling into his shoulder. And Kurt realized it was going to be okay, because he had Blaine. Everything else in this world could fall into shambles, and the fact that the kindest, most pure soul on this earth was his and his only made the pain subside.

Blaine hugged back just as ferociously, mumbling into Kurt's ear. "I meant every single word. You are perfect, Kurt. Perfect." Kurt choked back a sob and pulled away, pulling Blaine in for a short, passionate kiss.

"No," he breathed, "we are. We're perfect."