A/N: Alright, guys. So yeah, another new story. I know, I should probably finish some other ones up first but the plot bunny wouldn't go away, haha. So I took inspiration from Meg Cabot's "The Mediator" series for this one, because I've loved that series for a really long time and I've been imagining a Kurt as Suze for a while. No, the story will not follow Meg's. I took inspiration from her story. I am not taking her story. I cannot guarantee you a happy ending yet, because I don't know if they'll have a happy ending or not yet. Hell, at this point I don't know if they even get together. Guess we'll have to see!


The house was old. Ancient, really. I could practically see the history oozing from its old walls. I only barely managed to suppress a groan, knowing that my father, new stepmother and stepbrother were still standing behind me with huge smiles on their faces. I could hear Finn talking excitedly with my dad about how cool the new house was, and forced myself to smile as I turned around to face them.

"What do you think, bud?" Dad asked cautiously, and for good reason too. He, of all people, knew I hated old buildings (even if he didn't know why), and now I had to live in one.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat and kept my smile steady, "It's great, dad."

"We left your room completely up to you to decorate, Kurt honey." Carol said happily, "Your father even made sure you had the best view in the house."

I smiled wider and nodded, letting her lead me into the house and up the wood stairs, stopping on the second floor where dad took Finn to his room. Carol led me up one more flight of stairs and I discovered that this floor had only one room, with only one door. I reached a shaky hand out and opened the door to my new room. We were hit immediately by a bright light, and after my eyes adjusted I realized that it was coming from the large window directly across from the door, fully equipped with a window seat I would have run straight for. Under normal circumstances, that is.

"Will it do?" Carol asked, and I could tell she was nervous.

"It's amazing Carol," I gushed, "Thank you." She looked me over once more before excusing herself from the room and leaving me to unpack.

As soon as I was sure I could no longer hear her soft footsteps, I turned back to the window seat.

"Okay, what do you want?" The boy sitting there stared at me with wide eyes before looking behind him, obviously in shocked that I was indeed talking to him.

"You… you can see me?" He asked quietly, and it was clear he hadn't used his voice in a very long time.

I suppose I should explain. I'm Kurt Hummel; you're seemingly average gay teenage boy. I live in a dreadfully small town known as Lima, Ohio, and have big dreams of getting as far away from it as I can. Possibly the most interesting thing—definitely the most unfortunate I must say—is that I can see the dead.

Yup, you read that correctly. I can see hear, and touch (though I generally prefer not to partake in that) the dead. Hating old buildings seems a lot more reasonable when you're forced to be around a bunch of complaining ghosts, eh?

I've been plagued with this unfortunate "gift", as some people like to call it, since I was two. I mean, I'm sure I've had it my whole like but the earliest encounter I can remember was at two. And, god, did I wail for my mother when I saw that lady at the top of the steps. Sadly, my mother had simply brushed it off as nothing.

Ever since then I've helped hundreds of the diseased make it to wherever people go when they finally enter that bright light. Be it heaven, hell, reincarnation… that part's not my problem. All I have to do is make sure they get there, though I do admit that sometimes that can be a huge pain in the ass. Despite what you may think, there are some really stubborn ghosts.

The only time I really consider it as a "gift" is when my mother stops by to visit. She passed away from cancer when I was only six and three quarters, and I thought that would be the last time I would ever see her; the last time I would ever have a tea party with her or cuddle with her in bed on those rare nights filled with thunder and lightening. For some reason, though, she didn't pass on. She still hasn't passed on, actually, and she won't tell me why. I've honestly just stopped asking. It's not like I exactly mind having her around, after all.

"Yes, I can see you," I said after a minute, "What I would like to know is why you're still here. In my room."

"Well… I'm afraid I'm dead." The boy stood up and I noticed immediately that he was just a tiny bit shorter than me.

"I get that much, thanks. I mean what's stopping you from leaving?" He gave me a blank look. "Why haven't you crossed over, moved on, left the pathetic world of the living?"

"I don't want to leave yet." He shrugged and looked away, "I like it here."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be staying here. It's not right."

"I've been living here for close to 150 years, cero. I think I know what is right better than you." There was a hint of anger in his voice, and his hazel eyes seemed to darken a shade.

"Ah, that would explain your clothing, then." I sighed, "None the less, you can't stay here. This is my room now, and I would like to be able to change clothing without worrying about some ghost guy watching."

"I have a name, you know?" He still seemed angry as he ran a hand through his slightly messy dark brown curls. "It's rather rude of you not to ask it."

"I don't see you asking me my name," I responded defensively.

"What is your name, then?"

"Kurt Hummel, and yours?"

"Blaine," He responded simply.

"Okay, Blaine, great. Now we need to discuss you leaving. Because there is no way I'm sharing my room with-" I trailed off when I noticed he had disappeared. God, I hated the dead. So finicky.


I woke up early the next morning, immediately heading into the en suite bathroom in my room. I may hate the school I attend, but I still had pride. I wanted to look my best, even if there wasn't anyone to appreciate it. Just as I was about to start on my skin regimen, Blaine materialized behind me. I let out a shocked screech and dropped the bottle of lotion I was holding.

"My god, what do you think you're doing?" I asked him, spinning around to look him in the eye.

"What are you doing?" He asked, grabbing the bottle out of my hand. "What is this?"

"That," I replied through a clenched jaw, grabbing the bottle from his hands, "Is lotion. For my skin."

He pulled a face, "That's weird. Why do you need to put stuff on your face?"

"So I don't get acne."

"We managed fine when I was alive." He shot back.

"Yes, well, apparently you also thought barging into bathrooms was okay back then, too." I sighed, putting the bottle down on the counter and placing a hand on my hip. "Look, I kind of need to get ready for school now, if you wouldn't-" I hadn't even finished my sentence and he was gone.

I went through my morning routine as quickly as I could manage, making downstairs in time for breakfast only to find Finn had already eaten most of it. Carol popped her head around the corner.

"Oh, good morning sweetheart." She looked over to where Finn was sitting and frowned. "I told you to leave some of that for Kurt!"

"Sorry." He replied, though it sounded more like 'Soffry' through the food his was still in the middle of chewing.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. Do you want me to make you something?" Carole asked with a smile.

"No, it's fine. I'll just eat an apple on the way." I looked over at my new sibling, "Am I giving you a ride?"

"Yeah." He shoved the rest of the toast he was holding in his mouth and stood up, grabbing his backpack off the back of his chair and walking towards the front door. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table, said goodbye to Carole, and walked outside to the car dad had gotten me for my 16th.

The drive to school was fairly quiet. I pegged it to the fact that, before our parents got hitched, I had a huge crush on Finn. I'd gotten over it—thankfully—but he was still ridiculously weary around me. Like he thought I was going to go all crazy and force myself on him or something.

As soon as we reached the parking lot, Finn was out of the car. I rolled my eyes and scanned the lot quickly for potential tormentors before getting out myself. I really didn't want to get thrown in a dumpster this morning. Luckily I got into the building scathe free, only to be bombarded by Rachel.

I couldn't say I was particularly fond of the girl. She was really self-centered in ways—mainly her huge ego. Seriously, she thought she was amazing even though she was told differently on a daily bases—and she talked. A lot. But I respected her indifference towards the haters and her confidence that she wouldn't spend her whole life in Lima, Ohio.

"So Kurt, any interesting spirits in the old house you moved into?" Oh, and because she was the only person alive who knew about my secret. She was also the only person I knew who could also see the dead. That's sort of how we became 'friends'; because we're both cursed with the damn power. Or, as Rachel refers to it, our 'gift'.

"Yeah, a guy that's been living in my bedroom for the past 150 years." I deadpanned.

"Ooh, is he cute?"

I tilted my head to the side in thought. Now that she mentioned it… he actually kind of was. For a 150 year old dead guy, I mean. Not that I would ever tell her that. "He's a pain in the ass, for sure."

She squealed again, "Lima was getting so boring. I am so glad something finally came up!"

That's another thing about her I would never get; she actually enjoyed helping these people. She loved it, even if they were unhelpful, ungrateful and rude. She only ever saw it as a positive thing. But then, she was just a generally chipper person.

"You have to introduce me!" She clapped her hands together and took out her day planner. "Are you free after school from 4-5? I've got Ballet today after school, and I need at least two hours of vocal practice but-"

"Rachel, he'll barely talk to me at this point. Can you give me a couple days to, I dunno, get some information out of him?"

She nodded, though I could see she was upset. "Alright. Sometime next week then."


When I got home and found an empty house, I could've leaped for joy. After the two slushie facials and the hell I went through just trying to get one solo in Glee that afternoon… I don't know if I could deal with that right now. I just wanted to go up to my room, fall onto my bed and read some Vogue. But of course that would be too much to ask for.

"What is this?" Blaine asked. He was the one sitting on my bed, the latest copy of Vogue in his hands. "Why are all these girls so scantily clad?"

"Have you seriously not left this house in 150 years? That's how people dress nowadays." I walked over and snatched the magazine from him. "Girls stopped dressing like nuns in the 60's."

"For your information," He stood up and walked to the window seat, "I have been out of this house. I just think that a girl dressing like that is horrendously inappropriate. Not that your current attire is much better."

I looked down at myself, taking in the long off-the-shoulder grey sweater, black skinnies and boots. I raised an eyebrow, "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"You look like one of those girls. You're a young man, are you not?"

I stared at him in a shock silence for a moment before rushing into my bathroom and slamming the door behind me. Even a dead guy thought I looked like a girl! Why couldn't I just love fashion? Why did that have to be such a huge problem with everyone?

"Kurt?" I looked into the mirror and saw Blaine standing behind me. He looked concerned. Why did he look concerned, he was the one who'd insulted me not two minutes ago!

"Go away."

"Kurt… I didn't mean to insult you. I'm just… I'm confused." I felt a hand on my shoulder and quickly shoved it off. "I simply meant that you were wearing things typically worn by girls. Was I wrong about that?"

"No…"

"I didn't mean to insult you. If it's any consolation, I think you look fine." There was a pause and then he spoke again, "Why did you react so harshly, though?"

"That's none of your damn business." I shot, spinning around to face him. "Look. You're dead. You need to move on. You've already been here for over 150 years, you should be long gone. What is holding you back?"

"I've told you already. I like it here."

"Yeah, well I don't particularly care. It's my senior year, and I do not want to spend it living with a dead guy."

"I've been here longer than you. You really have no say in the matter."

"Okay, well if I'm stuck living with you, there's something you really should know. I'm gay." I saw his expression change immediately, "Yup. Pretty sure that was some sort of faux pas in your time, was it not?"

"Madre de Dio." He muttered, and then he was gone. I let out a sigh, thankful that that had worked. Now I just had to hold on to the hope that he wouldn't come back. I had to keep telling myself I didn't want him to come back. Because he was not attractive. Not in any way.