A/N: So, yeah, this is my first fanfiction not written as a joke. Hopefully it's not total rubbish. And I'm not totally sure of where this is going, so you'll have to bear with me as I muddle through things. There's some alternating points of view, but it should be pretty easy to keep up with. I'll start off with a T rating, because that's probably as high as this will get.

Obviously, I don't own Glee.

THAT DAMN WHITE SHIRT.

Chapter One

Santana was still sitting in the auditorium half an hour after the performance. Karofsky had gone to football practice. The rest of the Glee Club had gone wherever losers spend their afternoons. Like she cared where they went.

It's not like I can't leave, she thought to herself.

It's not like I'm scared to.

It's just that the auditorium was safe. Santana could just be there, in her shirt. Santana could just be there, in that damn white shirt. Santana could just be there, in that damn white shirt that said Lebanese – like she needed another label. Like she even wanted one.

Santana could just be.

It's not like she wanted this for herself. She knew that Karofsky didn't want his lot in life, either. Maybe he wanted to be straight, or maybe he just wanted to be able to accept himself. They were both wishing for something better.

Everyone in Lima was.

Sitting in the auditorium, she could pretend. She could pretend she had that shirt on because she'd been on stage with all of the rest of them. She could tell herself she was beautiful in her way, and that God makes no mistakes.

All of that other bull, too.

Santana didn't realise she was crying until she heard the sobs.

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

Kurt didn't realise that Santana was crying until he heard the sobs.

He'd come back to the auditorium for his jacket. He had thrown it off the stage during the performance - only Lady Gaga could inspire such carelessness with clothing. Especially with that jacket.

Kurt could bring plaid jackets back for the fashion-conscious, he knew it.

Only a few steps into the room he realised that Santana Lopez, of all people, was sitting, staring at the stage. For once, she wasn't with some random cheerleader, or Brittany, or Puck.

Or worse, Karofsky.

Kurt wasn't really convinced by all of that "Bully Whips" stuff. He wasn't convinced by Santana's Prom Queen aspirations, either. Sure, she wanted to be popular, but she never struck him as the 'All-American Girl' type. That was much more Quinn.

And really... Bully Whips? If you're serious about stopping bullying, you do not call your club "The Bully Whips". You just don't.

He figured he'd wait her out - hide in the back row until she'd left, then go get the jacket.

Sure, he'd just finished singing about being proud to be who he was. Sure, Santana hadn't said a harsh word to him since he'd been back at McKinley. But just because she was behind his return to the school, it did not mean she wouldn't still be a bitch when they were alone.

And besides, he really, really wanted to know why she was sitting there.

But now... she was crying. Santana Lopez was crying. In public. Or at least in a public building. A building where anybody could walk in and find her, as Kurt himself had just demonstrated.

He was sure she didn't realise there was anyone else there. There was no way she would be crying if she thought somebody was watching her.

Suddenly, Kurt felt a bit ashamed about hiding in the back row.

Slowly, and very hesitantly, he made his way towards the girl.

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

Santana started to scrub furiously at her eyes, trying to get the tears to stop.

At least there's nobody here to see me.

"Santana,"

God damn it.

"Are you okay? You're crying."

Kurt. Of course. Who else would find her?

She turned to face the boy, trying to think of a good excuse for her presence in the auditorium.

And her crying.

"Oh, hey Porcelain," she started in her best 'Bitch' voice.

"I couldn't help but cry, watching that performance of Born This Way. If I'd known it would be that lousy, I wouldn't have come. I missed the after school special at Breadstix to be here."

Not her best excuse.

Kurt looked at her appraisingly. Of course he wouldn't buy it.

"Okay, want to start again, Santana? I could even give you some more excuses: your gay boyfriend just broke up with you, you remembered you were in Glee Club, you accidentally thought about Rachel's fashion sense-"

The boy paused, staring at her shirt. His forehead wrinkled with confusion.

"-your parents told you that you're Lebanese and not Hispanic?"

Santana gave a watery chuckle at the thought of her parents knowing. Although not Ohioans by birth, they were definitely Ohioans by nature.

"Please, Hummel. If my parents knew I was Lebanese they'd kick me out faster than-"

She stopped, suddenly aware that she'd said way too much, to exactly the wrong person.

Oh, God damn it.

S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S-K-S

For Kurt, the realisation was like being slushied again. The cold shock, the thought that you must have done something really bad in a past life to deserve this.

Santana was gay.

Santana Lopez just came out to him. Or, at least, he thought she just came out to him.

Why the hell did her shirt say Lebanese? So not the point right now.

Santana was gay.

Santana Lopez. Ex-Cheerios Captain. Former Celibacy Club member. Santana "I've slept with the whole football team" Lopez.

Santana who used to throw icy cold drinks over him. Santana the bully.

Santana was gay.

No, just no. There was no way she could have treated him the way she had, the way they all had, if she was gay.

Glee Club had dismissed what was politely termed "The Brittany Incident". They'd all assumed it was just another of the blonde cheerleader's ridiculous comments, because there was no way that Santana Lopez would sleep with the girl most likely to tell everyone.

There was no way it could be true, because if it was, that made Santana a thousand times worse than Kurt had ever thought she was.

Although, it really made sense. The pinky-linking, the fond glances. The way she'd stood up to Karofsky before the benefit. The way she was now dating Karofsky. The way she looked at Artie, and the way she tried not to look at Brittany. Like things were real now.

Kurt had only been back this long and he'd noticed.

Santana was gay.

And Kurt was angry.