"Ugh," Sam exclaimed, snapping his copy of Beowulf closed in frustration.
Blaine looked at his best friend sympathetically. Studying for tests always did a number on Sam's sense of self-esteem, as they brought his dyslexia to the forefront of his mind. "I know," he gently agreed, then smiled. "But at least you've almost finished it. That's something."
Grimacing, Sam said, "Yeah, but what if I read it wrong? It's confusing… God, I hate being dyslexic. It's like there's something broken between my eyes and my brain."
Angrily, he raised his fists to rub his eyes, aggressively enough that it had to be painful.
"Sam," Blaine said softly, reaching out and grasping his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. "Don't say that."
Not replying or opening his eyes, Sam let out a sad huff of breath.
"You're not broken," Blaine assured him, staring at soft, delicate skin of Sam's eyelids. Impulsively, he leaned in and brushed a feather soft kiss against each lid, feeling the lashes flutter against his chin. Letting his brow rest against Sam's, he continued, "You're perfect, Sam. Perfect the way you are. Different, but that's not a bad thing."
Sam let out a shuddering sigh and leaned closer to Blaine, letting their cheeks touch. "You always know how to make me feel better," he breathes, sliding his arms around Blaine and simply sitting there, holding him close.
After a few minutes, they went back to studying. When Blaine finished as calculus, he read the rest of Beowulf aloud to Sam as they lay on his bed, Blaine resting against Sam's shoulder.
They were…a different kind of best friends, but in this instance different was way better than the norm.