Kurt Hummel was 16 years old and in his second year of high school in a town which condemned individuality. He had grown used to the abuse, subtle or otherwise, by now; it would not keep him from dressing the way he wanted to or for loving who he wanted to. Not that he had anyone to love. Maybe he never would.
If his mother were here, she'd tell him to stop that kind of thinking immediately - 'Don't you dare let anyone tell you you aren't good enough, Kurt! If they can't see that you have a heart of gold, it is only because they live in black and white." Five-year-old-Kurt would have beamed up at her and made a comment which stressed the importance of colour in everyday life.
As it was, however, Kurt simply rolled up the blind on his bedroom window and tried to keep the tears, that were building in his eyes, from falling.
A shooting star glittered across the night and Kurt allowed himself a moment of hope - a wish.
One day, let me find love.
Kurt inhaled shakily and moved the blinds back to their original position. His bare feet dug into the cream carpet as he padded his way to the bathroom to begin his moisturising routine.
Paying careful attention to his T-zone, which had been dryer than usual lately, Kurt applied his various creams. He sang softly (For Good) and let his voice whisper through the empty air of the room as he left it.
In the next few minutes, Kurt changed into his nightclothes and slipped under his patterned quilt, his mind drifting again to the intangible hope of a better future.
Kurt woke up to the sight of two gorgeous amber eyes.