Chapter Text
The letters were meaningless, really.
Kurt Hummel just needed an outlet. He’d known he liked boys from a young age, and living in a small town in Ohio as opposed to some large city on the west coast certainly didn’t help matters.
In Lima, finding a boy that was simultaneously gay and attracted to Kurt would only be plausible in a work of fiction. So, Kurt picked up his pen - and no, he wasn’t self-inserting in some sickly rom-com starring Taylor Lautner as his love interest. Though that technically was a scenario reserved for bedtime.
Kurt was well aware that his dating pool was nonexistent, and yet that didn’t stop him from harboring hopeless one-sided crushes on straight guys. He couldn’t help it. Just like anyone else his age, he was painfully teenaged and hormonal. It was not like he was actively propositioning these boys. They were simply placeholders in his daydreams until he escaped Lima and ended up somewhere he could really live.
(Be himself. Dress the way he wanted without judgment. Fall in love with guys who fell in love with guys - who were not only accepted for their sexuality, but embraced.
It was a work in progress, but a worthwhile one.)
As a way of expressing his emotions without any real confessions or involvements of the other parties, Kurt wrote letters. He got all of the confusing feelings down on paper, detailing the butterflies and the quickened heart rates and all the other childish things that came with crushes. Kurt’s words were known only to himself, a piece of paper, and an ink pen. Once he signed his name and sealed the envelope, he gained that sense of closure. It was a win-win.
So yeah. Kurt from time to time had meaningless crushes and he sometimes wrote some meaningless letters. Sue him.
The feelings were tucked away into a little teal box under his bed, never to be thought of again. Until they were.
“Kurt, you really need to clean under your bed. It’s a pigsty down here!” Rachel said. She had kicked one of her slippers under his bed by accident, except he was pretty sure she had already retrieved the shoe and just wanted an excuse to snoop.
Rachel Berry was his best friend - if Kurt was being honest, his only friend, but he was also her only friend, so that was of little importance.
During their freshman year, they had been partnered together for an English project. At first, he had been a little taken aback by the girl’s spirited personality, but over time, he got used to her corny animal sweaters and theatrics. Chalk it up to forced proximity, but they both had delusions of someday making it big in some big city - Rachel as an award-winning Broadway star and Kurt as an acclaimed fashion designer. Kurt was surprised to find that they had things in common.
The rest was history. And he had Lord of the Flies to thank.
Now, Kurt was massaging his temple, attempting to process the same passage of his APUSH textbook he’d been rereading for the past five minutes. As much as he loved Rachel, he often felt the urge to throttle her. The overachiever that she was, she had finished the same assignment weeks prior, meanwhile Kurt was scrambling to finish it the night before it was due. It didn’t help that his best friend was playing commentator in the background.
“See, you have such cute stuff collecting dust! Oh, what a pretty box…”
He turned to face her, preparing to chew her out for being a distraction. Only, the sight before Kurt made him halt.
Rachel was holding a blue-green hatbox, innocently tied at the top with a ribbon. Kurt’s blood promptly turned cold.
“Rachel Barbra Berry, you put that down right now!”
Kurt launched out of his swivel chair, sending it spinning wildly in his flight. Rachel’s eyes widened, clutching the hatbox to her chest as she leaped out of harm’s way, squealing. Luckily for Kurt, she wasn’t fast, and the pair collided in a mess of flailing limbs.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Maybe if you got out of my stuff -”
Rachel and Kurt grappled blindly, cries of protest shot from either side. He knew Rachel would surely demand an explanation for his outburst, but he was fixated on saving his very private letters from his best friend. Once she realized what they were, Rachel would never let him hear the end of it, and Kurt would likely never live it down.
Kurt would have to bury her. And the prospect of murdering his only friend was far from ideal.
After many facepalms and expletives, Kurt found an opening. Freeing his arm from the wrath of Rachel’s elbow, he reached for his box, which had slipped from Rachel’s grasp somewhere between the shouldering of his crotch.
“Ouch, get off of me -”
Kurt barely felt the soft fabric of the ribbon when Rachel swiftly hurled it across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a punctual thwack! The hatbox fell to the ground, its contents spilling ceremoniously as the lid popped off.
The way Kurt’s heart stopped could only be described as vampiric.
So much for a fight well fought and a life well lived.
Before Kurt could recover, Rachel was already up on her feet, making her way over to the envelopes scattered among his otherwise neat bedroom floor.
“Kurt, what are these?” Rachel’s voice was inquisitive, but audibly eager. Her eyes darted from letter to letter, not processing what she was looking at quite yet.
Kurt’s cheeks burned, and he placed his palms over his face to conceal his embarrassment.
“They’re stupid. I haven’t looked at them in a long time - just put them down, please!” Obviously, Kurt knew that he was fucked. Rachel’s interest had long been piqued - and oh, forget it. Rachel’s body would be cold and disposed of within the next twenty-four hours, anyway.
Kidding.
(Not really.)
He watched, resigned as she peeled open an envelope, slipping out a wrinkled leaf of paper. As she inspected it, Rachel’s face grew cloudy with confusion. “‘Sam Evans’? Isn’t that the sophomore on the football team that replaced Finn when he got kicked off?”
“No, Rachel. It’s just my random pen pal that also happens to live in Lima with the same name. Common first and last name. Also, maybe don’t spew your Finn trivia while he’s literally in the other room.”
Rachel paid him no mind. Kurt removed his hands from his face; he was already caught, might as well own it. Rachel was relentless when she put her mind to something, and currently that something happened to be prying into Kurt’s personal possessions. She smoothed the sheet out before clearing her throat.
“‘Dear Sam, I know we don’t know each other that well -’”
Kurt groaned. “Oh my god. If you’re going to subject me to this misery, at least have the courtesy to read it in your head.” He settled back onto his chair, glaring daggers at his best friend while she was in the process of humiliating him. There was a silver lining at least - who would Rachel tell?
She trailed off, her lips parted as she mouthed the words on the page. Her eyes widened comically, turning to Kurt a second later. “You like Sam Evans?”
“Liked. Past tense. I wrote that forever ago. It was only a fleeting thing. We had a class together last year and he was convenient eye candy.” Kurt avoided her probing gaze, a flush creeping up his neck. He had liked Sam before he had come out to Rachel, and since then, he hadn’t thought it was a remarkable thing to bring up.
Rachel cocked her head. “Oh, sweetie, I don’t think he likes, um…” She gesticulated, failing to convey her thoughts. Kurt was momentarily puzzled before he finally caught on.
“God, yes, I know Sam’s straight. Give me that.” Kurt took this awkward lull as an opportunity, snatching the letter from Rachel. “Look, I know you probably have all these ideas in your head, but it’s just a stupid thing I do. I don’t even really like these guys, they’re spur of the moment things. I write these to vent.”
Kurt made a hasty attempt to explain while he gathered up the rest of the letters. There was one, two…
Evidently, Rachel seemed to have recovered. “Aw, Kurt, you write notes declaring your love? That’s so romantic! I feel so seen. I do something similar in my diary, although this is much more poetic. I may have to steal this concept,” Rachel gushed, placing a hand over her heart. Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“Not so romantic when you realize that none of the guys ever liked me back, and I had to write lengthy, pathetic paragraphs to get over them.”
Kurt only had two pieces of paper in his hands and there were five of them. Incredulous, he raised a brow at his friend, who had the remaining two.
“Please, can I read them?” Rachel bounced up and down, holding the envelopes tightly and pleading him with those big brown eyes of hers.
“Down, Juliet. I already let you read one of them. No way.” He shook his head, adamant about his refusal. “Come on. Hand them over,” Kurt said, making grabby hands.
Rachel huffed. “Are they really so scandalous? Maybe you should’ve found a better hiding spot if you didn’t want anyone to find them.” She crossed her arms, emphatic. She’d almost look intimidating if she wasn’t sporting a sweater with deer graphics.
“There’s nothing scandalous about them. It’s just embarrassing enough that you’re aware of their existence.” With that, Kurt plucked them from her fingers, dropping them back in the hatbox. He made a mental note to find a new home for his letters as he slid them back under his bed - after Rachel was gone.
A beat or two passed before Kurt realized Rachel’s uncharacteristic silence. Slowly, he turned to face her, already suspicious; it wasn’t like her to go down without a challenge.
And clearly, his best friend intuition hit its mark - Rachel was fighting to bite back a grin.
Kurt narrowed his eyes to slits. He didn’t like that one bit. He could practically hear the obnoxious cogs in her head turning. “What?”
There was another moment of silence from Rachel. For once, she seemed to be weighing her words. “You know,” she said, all singsong-like and unsettling, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea to send those out.”
Kurt laughed. He honest to god laughed until he registered the confusion on her face. “Oh honey, you aren’t being serious. You do know that the only response I’d receive would be a big fat rejection and a slushie facial times five, right?”
“Kurt, I am being serious! It’ll be a short couple of years until I finally receive fan mail, but personally, if someone wrote me a love letter, I’d be beyond flattered. The way you described the scenic sweep of Sam Evans’ blond hair -”
“You are overexaggerating.”
Rachel hummed. She settled next to Kurt on the floor, his back resting against the bed, legs sprawled out. “I’m just saying, you can’t knock it until you try it. Who knows, what if one of these guys reads their letter, and it triggers some sort of reaction they’ve never felt before, and then you’re face to face, and oh my god, Kurt, you’d be in love!”
“I’d say I think you belong in a crackhouse,” Kurt deadpanned, picking at a hangnail.
He felt Rachel’s hand on his shoulder and braced himself. “Okay, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I don’t think it’d be so bad. Don’t you want the chance to experience high school love? I mean - it’s our junior year, Kurt, and despite how delightful my company is, I think you could benefit from… seeing someone.”
Kurt’s brows climbed his forehead. There was no way Rachel was saying what he thought she was saying.
Following his silence, Rachel seemed to take his lack of response as an invitation to elaborate, and she pressed on, “What I mean is that I think you should take some risks. Like, auditioning for a role that might be sort of a stretch - not that I’d know, obviously, but taking a step out of your comfort zone is necessary for gaining experience.” She placed her small hand on his, shooting him a tight smile. “I want something good for you. I mean it.”
The thing about Rachel was that she truly meant well. The other thing about Rachel was that she didn’t much grasp that dating for her was in a completely different ball park than dating for him. Despite it all, Kurt felt his heart clench. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want someone - in fact, sometimes it felt like it was all he wanted, and he was fueled on little hopes to get by.
Except Kurt knew it was all wishful thinking. Realistically, he’d have a better shot in college, and he was willing to wait it out. He’d rather find some gorgeous man in the throes of a romantic city than within the halls of McKinley - where his chances of finding anyone were slim to none. Kurt also didn’t think he’d be able to stomach rejection in a place where he already felt so discarded.
Kurt pasted on a smile and he laughed it off, though it sounded painstakingly hollow even to his own ears. “Rachel, I know you might be on cloud nine because you’re all hot and heavy for my brother, but you might be projecting. Maybe you want high school love - I’m fine, and I’m happy for you, but for me, it’s not a priority.”
Racking his brain for a subject change, he realized that he seriously needed to finish his history homework. At that thought, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way back to his desk.
“Do you mean Finn? I am not - what are you doing?”
Kurt sat down in his revolving chair, finding his dog-eared page about the aftermath of the French and Indian War. “Finishing my homework, hopefully.”
As he skimmed his book, not processing a nugget of information, he thought that maybe Rachel was right. He was lying through his teeth - he was lonely. Every day, Kurt saw happy couples roam the halls, and he couldn’t help feeling that he was missing something. Even for simply that gold star of experience, Kurt wanted to know. He so badly wanted to know how it felt to be desired. Wasn’t that what everyone strived for?
And even worse, he wanted people to know. Kurt wanted to prove that he was capable of being wanted romantically. He wanted Rachel to know, he wanted Finn with his leagues of girlfriends to know, he wanted his dad with all of his pitiful glances to know. Maybe Kurt was being distastefully shallow.
Whatever.
Kurt wanted what he wanted, no matter how shameful. That was precisely why he kept his thoughts to himself. And quite frankly, he’d send those letters when hell froze over. What a disaster that would be.
Immersed in his inner turmoil, however, Kurt failed to catch the thoughtful look on Rachel’s face - and the way her eyes lingered beneath his bed.
Kurt didn’t dwell much on the encounter. It helped that Rachel also somehow managed to yield self-restraint, as the topic was never broached again.
Which, on second thought, should’ve probably struck Kurt as strange, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was trying to suppress the memory altogether.
Whatever. Kurt wanted Rachel to forget about the whole ordeal, and it seemed that she had. As a result, he was going to be appreciative. It was over.
As in, over for a good month and a half.
Kurt rummaged through his locker, searching for his damn math notebook. It was passing period and he had hoped to cram in a little studying before class; Kurt had a quiz next period and he really couldn’t afford to fail. He didn’t seem to have much luck, though. Kurt was organized to a T; even one stray hair out of place made his skin crawl, and his notebook was not in its usual spot.
He must’ve forgotten it in his bedroom at home, he realized, and resisted the urge to strangle himself with his scarf. If anything, it was Finn’s fault for rushing him this morning.
At that, he mentally cursed his stepbrother and the inventor of algebra. Way to get him while he was already down.
Despite his frustration, Kurt took extra care to not slam his locker shut. He didn’t want unwanted attention from any moronic, slushie-dishing jocks.
“Hey,” A voice sounded, startling Kurt from his reverie. He whipped around, preparing himself for the worst, when he was met with -
Sam Evans.
Kurt hadn’t talked to him since his marketing class last year, and even then, their interactions were limited to asking if the other had a spare pencil. He would’ve considered being a bit more alarmed if it was anyone else on the football team besides Finn - but it was Sam Evans, who didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.
Sam Evans, whose defining trait was pretty and - not much else, once Kurt actually thought about it.
“Um, hello,” Kurt said, hesitance ringing clear as day in his tone, “can I help you…?”
He was kind of busy trying to decipher the look on Sam’s face, which portrayed a sincerity that threw Kurt notably. In his head, he desperately tried to recall whether he and Sam shared a class together, except he came up short. That blinding shade of box dye blond had seared his precious corneas all throughout his first semester of sophomore year. Kurt would’ve noticed if their schedules aligned this year and they didn’t.
At all.
Sam placed a firm hand on Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt internally applauded himself for resisting a flinch. However, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. To say that this was unusual and horrifically awkward would be an understatement.
“Look.” Sam made a dramatic pause - maybe for theatrical emphasis, Kurt wasn’t sure. “I’m flattered, man, I really am.”
“Excuse me?”
“Like, actually, my heart is touched, but Quinn and I are sort of a thing right now. Also, don’t you think it’d be a little weird since - you know, Finn and Quinn were a thing, and Finn’s your brother, and then you and me?”
Kurt was concerned that his eyes were about to pop straight out of their sockets, because this was surely not a real conversation he was having right now. He felt like all of these implications were going over his head.
Sam shrugged. “That would be way too crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I like some crazy - I am literally with Quinn, but that’s a bit too much. Not to offend you or anything -”
“I am… not offended,” was all Kurt could muster.
To his credit, Sam looked genuinely relieved, which was stupidly endearing. Kurt hated that he was being reminded why he had had a crush on him last year. “You’re cool, dude. I hope that there aren’t any hard feelings?”
Sam shifted from foot to foot, appearing as if he was nervously anticipating Kurt’s reply. Now that was not normal under any circumstance. What had he done to make Sam Evans nervous?
If Kurt wasn’t horrendously stupefied in the moment, he probably would’ve conjured something witty in response. Being plain nasty to Sam would’ve been like kicking a puppy. Kurt wasn’t that evil, but he was working on it, given that this mortifying exchange might be his villain origin story.
Kurt looked around to make sure no one was watching.
He shook his head.
A polite smile played at the corners of Sam’s lips and he nodded. “Cool. I’ll see you around.”
What?
Kurt’s mind was reeling at a thousand miles per hour. He was trying, but he could not apply a single explanation to what just happened.
As Sam began to walk away, a thought struck Kurt. In his defense, he had been dying to know since last year…
“Do you dye your hair?”
Sam turned back, brows furrowed in admittedly adorable confusion. “Uh, no?”
Ugh, Kurt thought. Sam regularly spewed a bunch of nonsense and was confirmed straight.
“And I should’ve asked what he was talking about, but instead, I just stood there gaping like a complete airhead,” Kurt said - whispered in between crunches of his protein bar.
It was lunchtime and Rachel and Kurt were hanging out in the library. Technically, Kurt wasn’t supposed to be eating, but the librarian’s sightline was obscured by the ‘nonfiction’ shelf. He was very strategic about his seating choice, thank you - breakfast had eluded him this morning and Kurt was starving.
At least he was courteous enough to cover his mouth. Kurt defied library policy, but he had manners.
“That’s so strange…” Rachel seemed to be immersed in her note-taking, her pen moving feverishly across her notebook. Today, she wore her signature look - an argyle vest thrown over a basic collared shirt, paired with a pleated skirt and a headband. The skirt was several inches too long to be considered fashionable, and her vest’s color scheme was plain hideous. Her entire ensemble put her on par with the librarian.
In terms of the preppy style, Kurt thought she looked more Matilda than Blair Waldorf. God, he really needed to fix that.
“Astute observation,” Kurt drawled. Rachel’s silence was disconcerting. He knew that she was working on schoolwork, but typically, she and Kurt would’ve come up with several joint conspiracies by now.
A very cute boy he used to have a crush on had approached Kurt out of the blue - speaking complete gibberish, but nonetheless. Today marked a pivotal moment in Kurt’s high school career. Attractive guys didn’t just come up to Kurt like that, not willingly at least.
He was so confused.
“I honestly haven’t thought about the guy in a year. I feel like I haven’t even seen him in the halls until today. In marketing, we didn’t even talk. Did I even understand him correctly? Maybe I hallucinated the whole conversation; I didn’t have breakfast this morning and I’m feeling sort of lightheaded - Rachel!”
Rachel didn’t even look up.
What was her issue?
Finally, she paused her writing. Capping her pen with a loud click, she turned to Kurt. “I have been listening to you. I just think, maybe you’re overreacting a bit? He probably got you confused with someone else.” She gave a little shrug, dismissive.
“Um, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’d like to think I’m pretty distinctive…? You can’t really… mistake me for anyone else. Rachel, he knows.”
On the other hand, maybe Rachel was right. Nothing Sam had said made any sense, and Kurt guessed that it was possible that he just had the wrong person. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Kurt from feeling on edge.
He knew he wasn’t the most subtle guy in the world about his sexuality - Kurt wasn’t trying to be subtle at all, in fact. He didn’t have to say a single word to inform the school of his preference. But without any explanation from Sam, Kurt was lost. He hadn’t given Sam any reason to believe he liked him - not even when they had class together.
And yet, his stomach was doing somersaults. Something about this situation just wasn’t sitting right with him.
He didn’t even realize he was crinkling the wrapper of his protein bar until he was shushed by a table of freshmen. Wow, did no one respect seniority anymore? He glared back until they cowered.
Rachel tilted her head, peering at Kurt with softened eyes. “Kurt, relax. You look like you’re going to have an aneurysm. I think you should just… leave it alone. If it was really worth worrying over, then Sam wouldn’t have been so polite. You’re making something out of nothing.”
At that, Kurt realized how tense he was. He slumped, easing his muscles. He could relax. Kurt Hummel was capable of relaxing…
“Okay, but I kind of need to know the context. You can’t just say something totally cryptic and then expect me to not go insane trying to understand -”
“Honey, you’re overanalyzing a conversation with a guy who mixes up the words ‘ambidextrous’ and ‘bisexual.’ If this was all some huge, mastermind ploy to humiliate you, I don’t think Sam would be the one going through with it.”
Kurt couldn’t exactly argue with that. He internally groaned when Rachel delved back into her studying. Yes, he commended her for staying on top of her work, but as her best friend, he would appreciate some moral support. It was almost as if she was avoiding this discussion.
“Excuse me?
Kurt looked up. Standing over their table was Blaine Anderson.
He was dressed in a striped button-up, short-sleeved and fitted. With the start of the school year, the weather was still in that odd season of limbo between summer and fall, so it was an appropriate choice. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his chinos, his hair gelled to hell and back. Typical.
Blaine Anderson was - nice. They had several classes together, and sometimes when Kurt was bored in algebra, he’d turn to Blaine and make some snarky comment about Ms. Hagberg. Blaine would then laugh politely - accordingly. Like clockwork.
They weren’t really friends, though. More like allies against the mathematical dystopia that was the quadratic formula. Kurt always had to mutter “Pop Goes the Weasel” under his breath to remember it.
“Oh, hey, Blaine,” said Kurt, wiggling his fingers in greeting. He assumed Blaine came over to ask about tonight’s homework or something in the same vein.
From his left, Rachel let out a strange gurgling sound. Kurt side-eyed her, a bit concerned. She was acting so weird today, he thought. Even more so than usual, wouldn’t you believe that?
“Blaine, what are you doing here?” Rachel straightened. She was all teeth, smiling in that way of hers that made Kurt’s cheeks ache just looking.
Understandably, Blaine looked a bit startled. Kurt could’ve sworn he had seen him take a step back. The guy was hilarious; he had these almost cartoonish mannerisms - and his raised, caterpillar brows only seemed to emphasize that.
“Hi guys! I just wanted to steal Kurt for a second, if that’s okay? I’ll get him back to you in no time.”
Kurt cocked his head. “Oh, did you miss the homework? I believe it was page seventy-six in the book -”
“It - it isn’t about that, actually…” Blaine’s grin was subdued, teetering on the edge of charming towards awkward. This was a very clear shift in energy, Kurt observed.
Suddenly, Rachel rose from her seat. “Here, Blaine! You can take my seat. I need to use the lady’s room anyway - cramps, right? Have fun!” she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder in one fluid motion.
“Wait, why are you bringing all of your stuff…?” Kurt’s efforts were useless. Rachel had practically left a trail of dust in her wake. He needed to press that girl later.
However, Blaine didn’t seem to take much issue. He lowered himself onto the chair, now at eye-level with Kurt. He brought his hands together, twining them.
Nerves.
“If you haven’t come to me for math help, good on you. Except I’m pretty sure I earned half a point higher than you on the last quiz, so my services are available if you ever change your mind,” Kurt said - a lighthearted attempt to break the ice. He almost found himself mirroring Blaine’s fidgets. Having one eerie interaction today was one thing, but two was pushing it.
He’s also certain he’d never seen Blaine at a loss for words. If it was even possible, Kurt’s stomach sank further.
Blaine leaned forward in his seat, letting out a slow exhale before speaking. “Let me just preface this by saying that you are… such a sweet guy, Kurt. And I’m glad that a nice deed from middle school has stuck with you for this long. I didn’t mean that in a sarcastic way - oh god, that sounded awful. I’m so bad at this - I’m sorry.”
If Kurt wanted to talk about middle school - well, that was a rhetorical statement. He never wanted to talk about middle school. Ever.
“What I’m trying to say is that, I like you, Kurt. You’re a good friend and you make me laugh. I just don’t know if I’m… emotionally available at the moment?”
“Pardon?” Kurt blinked once. Then ten more times for good measure. Was it him, or was everyone sounding like a broken record today?
“It’s - I’m sure you’ve seen me and Sebastian. It’s not exactly going swimmingly, or I don’t know how things are going or if things even are going. But I’ve thought it over, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to get into anything right now. It wouldn’t be fair to him or to you.”
Blaine had a pinched look on his face, though it was nothing compared to Kurt’s. He didn’t have a mirror on hand, but he was sure his open mouth was catching flies.
“Sorry, what?
“I am… not looking for a relationship right now. I’m in a rough spot emotionally, but I do appreciate the sentiment. I enjoy talking to you too -”
“Are you - are you serious?” Kurt sputtered. “Just because we talk in a couple classes doesn’t mean I have feelings for you. Personally, I think you're being kind of conceited. I know we’re some of the only out guys at McKinley, but really? Oh, and I’ve seen you and your boyfriend if you can even call him that. Sebastian Smythe flirts with anything that eats, sleeps, or breathes -”
“Hey, Brokeback Mountain, shut up! Some of us are trying to study.” Underclassmen just never quit, Kurt thought, but his ears burned at the callout. He remained stone-faced, staring down Blaine.
Blaine, who resembled a dumb fish; his mouth opened, closed, then opened again. Yet nothing came out. Hazel eyes avoided Kurt’s gaze, looking anywhere but.
After another moment, Blaine seemed to find his voice. “Whoa. Uh. I genuinely did not mean to offend, even if you just took several shots at my… ex-boyfriend and I. Maybe I’ve made some kind of mistake? But the letter was addressed to me, and appeared to have your name on it…”
Wait.
Letter? Middle school?
It was like whoever was filming Kurt’s biopic had set the scene to slow-motion. Blaine unzipped the front compartment of his backpack and pulled out an envelope. The paper was yellowed and frayed at the edges, clearly having seen better days. Though true to his word, it was addressed to a very legible ‘Blaine Anderson,’ the ‘i’ dotted with a decorative love heart. Kurt’s pulse accelerated and his sight grew increasingly spotty.
In middle school, fourteen-year-old Kurt had a habit of dotting his i’s with hearts.
He was going to be sick.
“Kurt, are you okay? Kurt!”
In response, Kurt fell out of his seat, his vision going dark.