A/N: There is a flaw in my writing! Okay, there are probably plenty of flaws in my writing. One of them I've focused on is that I'm very set in my ways: I always write third-person, near-omniscient, past tense. This is starting to bore me. SO, don't be discouraged by the prologue (below), this story will be mostly narrative, directly from Kurt to 'Rachel' (that's you). This was inspired by a random tumblr post which I can sadly not find again because I think it somehow died. Read on!

"All right, what's on your mind?" Rachel demanded as Kurt stared blankly at the TV, off in his own little world. He was acting ridiculously distracted, constantly glancing at his phone and frowning for no apparent reason.

"There's nothing on my mind, Rachel. Don't you think Sutton Foster would have done this part wonderfully?" he asked, eating a piece of organic jalapeño popcorn and not looking away from the screen.

"Sutton Foster would do any part wonderfully, she's an icon. The point is: you're not paying any attention to our movie, and you haven't even asked me how things are with me and Finn!" she exclaimed.

"How are things with you and Finn?" Kurt asked her, not sounding particularly caring.

"Fine!" She couldn't tell Kurt that Finn had asked her to marry him. Finn had specifically requested that she didn't tell Kurt, even though it was killing her to keep such a big secret from her best friend.

"Good. Popcorn?" he asked, holding out the bowl, and she took a handful, still trying to figure out how to convince him to tell her what he was thinking.

"I was thinking that we could do Reach for Regionals, the theme song from the 1996 Olympics. I think it would make a perfect ballad for me. Only me, center stage, belting out the song better than Gloria Estefan ever could."

"Sounds good," Kurt said absentmindedly.

"Really? I mean, I know I'm talented, but this is the first time that you've ever acknowledged I could be a Glee club all by myself."

"You blew Regionals away last year with a solo. It could be our signature, our powerhouse belting out a supporting song and then the rest of the Glee club joining with the song central to the theme. What is the theme this year anyway?"

"Mr. Schuester hasn't told us yet, but we're competing against the Warblers and the Golden Goblets. I think our best bet is my solo, my duet of When You Believe with Mercedes, and me taking the lead vocals on a group song of I Believe I Can Fly."

"That doesn't sound like a very good catalog." This is the longest Kurt had ever let her talk about her ideas for Glee club, and his lack of objection to anything she was saying was starting to worry her. "Too similar."

"You would have no objections to me being the center of attention? Completely. No one else sharing my spotlight," she tried, knowing Kurt found her desire for applause to be one of her more annoying qualities.

"Why would I have an issue with that?" She seriously doubted Kurt was even listening to the entirety of her sentences at this point.

"Is there a boy?" That made Kurt's head snap around to look at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and she got the feeling he was playing innocent.

"There's a boy, that's the reason you're so distracted you don't even care that I could convince Mr. Schuester to give me all the solos at Regionals." Kurt snorted (he would insist that it was a 'sniff').

"As annoying as his blatant favoritism is, I doubt you could convince him... Rachel, there's no boy," he said, completely changing his train of thought.

"I don't believe you for a second," she said firmly.

"Okay, riddle me this," Kurt said, turning to face her. Both of them were ignoring the TV at this point. "If there was a boy, why would I be hiding him from you?"

"Do I know him?" she asked, ignoring Kurt's inaccurate hypothetical.

"There's no boy."

"Right. Is he in the closet? That would explain it."

"He's in the closet in the same sense that my imaginary friends from my childhood are: in that he doesn't exist." Kurt rolled his eyes, but Rachel wasn't convinced.

"So he is in the closet. You can tell me, Kurt, I don't reveal secrets unless someone I care about is getting hurt in the process." Kurt still considered her untrustworthy because she had told Finn that Noah was the father of Quinn's baby, but Finn didn't deserve to be saddled with the burden of Quinn's mistake for the rest of his life.

"Rachel, there's no boy."

"You will never convince me of that.

Rachel strutted down the hallway, plans to find out who the boy was in Kurt's life festering in her mind. Kurt deserved to be happy, everyone did, and Kurt would be happier if he had someone to gush about his love life to. That person being, of course, her.

"Nice bobby socks, Berry. They match your nose perfectly," a cold voice called out, followed by snickers. The voice was familiar to anyone who walked the hallways of McKinley, known for its vitriol and icy tone. "What exactly would you have had to do in a past life to deserve that horrible combination?" Everything the voice said was followed by snickers, and Rachel turned to face her attacker: Blaine Anderson. He was widely known as the school bitch, icier than Kurt and Quinn (who had both gotten the title of 'Ice Queen' briefly) combined, and the head cheerleader who controlled the school. It was a deadly combination.

"The things you do on a Friday night?" Santana asked, coming to stand beside Rachel. They were beginning to become friends, and Santana was getting better and better at standing up for the Glee girls, even against her fellow Cheerios. People started to laugh at Santana's comment, but were silenced by Blaine's fierce glance.

"So, for you, that would be the entire football team?" Blaine asked, prompting outbursts of laughter from the Cheerios beside him. "Except, that is," he continued, "for the ones that find you too repulsive to sleep with. I don't blame them." Blaine gave her an up-and-down that seemed to burn.

"And I'm sure they all prefer your virgin, homo ass, Anderson?" she asked coldly, prompting snickers from the male occupants of the hallway. Blaine didn't even have to look to silence them, his posse did that for him.

"You really want to talk about homos, Santana?" he asked, his low voice causing the hair on Rachel's arm to stand up. "Certainly, neither of us have room to talk about virgins, that's Berry's area." He didn't even glance at Rachel, who had started out as the focus of his attack.

"I definitely have room to talk about asses, especially your half-baked one," Santana replied, but she was shaking with anger. Blaine had that effect on people, and he seemed to enjoy it.

"Says the girl with silicone in her chest. How can we guarantee there isn't some anywhere else, Kim Kardashian?" Gasps and laughter followed Blaine's comment, and Santana seemed ready to punch him in the face. "Are you going to hit me, you barbarian?" he asked coolly. "You know I won't hit you back, so why not just take a swing? I'm sure you would enjoy it." Blaine was baiting her, which was never a good idea.

Santana started yelling in Spanish, very few phrases of which were clean enough for Rachel to recognize, and Blaine responded with his own, smooth, calm flow of Spanish, which only seemed to make Santana angrier.

"That's exactly the kind of temper I expected from you," Blaine continued calmly once Santana had run out of angry Spanish. He hadn't even flinched in the face of her attack. "The same kind of temper which prompts you Gleeks to call our admirable athletes Neanderthals or plebeians. Maybe you should look in the mirror before you talk, Santana." Those were words Kurt used frequently to describe the jocks, and everyone knew it. He was insulting Kurt and the countertenor wasn't even there to defend himself!

"Let it go," Rachel said as she tried her best to drag Santana away, Blaine and his posse still laughing behind them. "He's not worth getting suspended with Regionals coming up. The Troubletones are performing a number, and they need your voice." Santana didn't say anything, pulling herself out of Rachel's grasp and stalking off in a manner eerily reminiscent of Miss Sylvester.

"I still think we should tell everyone," Rachel tried to convince her boyfriend during Glee practice on Monday, keeping one eye on Kurt. He was talking to Mercedes, occasionally taking out his phone and laughing at something he was reading on screen. Mercedes kept trying to peek over, but he would angle the phone so she couldn't see.

"Rachel, we just need to give them some time, all right? We'll tell everyone soon. I mean, Valentine's Day's coming up. Wouldn't that be super romantic?" Finn asked, trying to appease her, and she huffed.

"The more time they have to adjust to the idea, the better," she insisted, still watching as Mercedes tried to get Kurt's attention away from his phone.

"Rach, they'll all be fine with it. It's our decision anyway, right?" Finn asked and she huffed again. Sometimes Finn was such a child.

"Of course it's our decision, but we want their support. They're our friends, Finn, and the girls will be my bridesmaids." It was like he didn't think anything through.

Finn continued to try to convince her to lay off, but eventually she stopped listening to her immature, irresponsible boyfriend and continued to focus on Kurt, the way he giggled and smiled at things on his phone, Mercedes having given up on trying to talk to him. There was definitely a boy.

"Give me your phone," Rachel demanded, striding up to him in a dramatic huff. The fact that his best friend was acting like a lunatic didn't even bother him. That happened everyday.

"Why?" he asked, continuing to put his books in his locker. The next thing he said was, "Jesus!" because Rachel unceremoniously stuck her hand in his pocket and grabbed his iPhone, unlocking it with the ease that only a best friend could have.

"I knew it!" she said victoriously. "I knew there was a boy." Kurt froze. Oh no. How did he explain this one? The stages of argument and the stages of grief were one and the same in his relationship with Rachel.

Stage one: denial. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"BA. I'm guessing you're not talking about a degree," Rachel said, waving his phone around, his texts back and forth with BA on display.

Stage two: anger. "What business is it of yours?" he snapped, trying to grab his phone, but Rachel was as dexterous as she was short. It was entirely unfair.

"How about I'm your best friend and I deserve to know about whoever it is that you're trying to hide from me?" she said, sticking the phone down her shirt so he wouldn't continue trying to reach for it.

Stage three: bargaining. "Look, Rachel, it's not a big deal. Just give me the phone back, we'll go about our day, and I'll let you talk about Finn as much as you want for the next twenty four hours without making any disparaging comments about my wonderful brother." Kurt loved Finn, but the more time he and Rachel spent not arguing, the worse they got around the rest of humanity. They were downright sickening at this point.

"Kurt..." Rachel said, a clear warning.

Stage four: depression. Kurt faked a heavy sigh. "I really don't want to talk about it, Rachel," he wheedled. "Things aren't exactly going well."

"I'm sure I'll have some adequate advice," she said firmly.

Stage five: acceptance. "It's Blaine Anderson," Kurt admitted. Rachel's jaw dropped.

"Cheerio Blaine Anderson? King of the school, more popular than the football players, and so vicious he's able to get the best of Santana, Blaine Anderson? The one person in this school who will never be picked on for being gay, Blaine Anderson?" she asked, but at least she kept her tone hushed. Having this conversation with someone who had lungs as powerful as Rachel's could be potentially devastating.

"Yes, that Blaine Anderson," Kurt said patiently, as if there were another Blaine Anderson she could be thinking of.

"How did this happen?" Rachel hissed, dragging Kurt away from his locker and barely giving Kurt time to shut it. Kurt knew they were headed for the choir room, regardless of the fact that they had class. After all, it was their senior year.

"Rachel, I was a Cheerio. This really isn't that dramatic," Kurt said as Rachel pulled him into the choir room.

"Tell. Me. Everything," Rachel demanded, practically pushing him into a chair. Kurt knew very well that she wouldn't hesitate to sit on him until he told the story. Not that such a tactic would actually work, but it would certainly be annoying.

A/N: And so it begins. Narrative starts next chapter. This story will be eleven chapters (including this one), with each chapter being four to five thousands words. I will update every week (probably on Sunday starting next week, Saturdays I'm just too forgetful), and the story is fully written. So, I hope you guys liked :)

Songs used/mentioned:
'Reach' by Gloria Estefan (mentioned)
'When You Believe' by Mariah Carey & Whitney Houston (mentioned)
'I Believe I Can Fly' by R Kelly (mentioned)

Review are Love.