Oh hey, look, I wrote another chapter. Weird.

Alternating POV's.


'Well, I, for one, am glad for that.'

Kurt had said as much in the hospital a few weeks ago – that he was glad I was alive, but much as I had been then, I was still at a loss for what to say in return. 'Thanks' hardly seemed appropriate… and any other remark I could reply with probably wouldn't have been met with much enthusiasm from Kurt.

And if I wanted to be friends with Kurt – and I did – I needed to at least attempt to not be bitter.

After all, he was right that night at Breadstix. He was with pretty boy and, even though I had done everything I could think to do to make him feel special, he couldn't just end his relationship over a week's worth of gifts and praise, right? Especially not after all I did to him.

I tried to convince myself of that almost every single night since; that it was okay for Kurt to be in his relationship – and not with me - as long as he was happy; as long as he'd forgiven me.

Of course there were nights when I was more selfish about my thoughts concerning Kurt or when I was concerned with things completely un-Kurt-related – like being outed by complete dickheads from Thurston. But, generally, I tried to assure myself that I would never try to make Kurt unhappy again – even if that meant hearing about him and pretty boy.

And now, presented with the opportunity to be Kurt's friend, I would not fuck it up.

No, instead, I would put as much effort into being his friend as I had the entire week of Valentine's.

All I could hope was that Kurt would give me the chance.


Throughout the rest of the evening, David and I chatted as amiably and awkwardly as only we could do. The length of our text messages varied from text to text, but there were very few lulls in our conversation. Sometimes, our texts were entire sentences and, other times (especially for him), they were only one word. But the texts never stopped coming.

To be honest, I was glad – and relieved – that he was willing to talk. It allowed me an opportunity to find out how he'd been since he came home and try to offer any sage advice – if needed.

However, he didn't say much on the subject of his sexuality – nor of his almost suicide – and, though I was sorely tempted to ask about his sexuality, I made no attempt to bring either of them up. Instead, I let him decide most of the topics of our conversation and merely tried to keep up – something I wasn't used to in the least.

His texts were standard teenage boy texts. He complained about how he couldn't manage to complete a challenge on Skyrim and how he hadn't had any decent Chinese food in a while. Though, to be fair, he did try to relate to me, asking about regionals and Blaine – or as David referred to him, 'the boyfriend.'

He was polite, though not entirely open, and, considering, it was probably the best I could ask for as of now.

So, instead of pushing him, I let him set the pace of our friendship, telling myself that whenever he might need me, I would be ready to help.


Two days had passed since Kurt first texted me and, to be honest, I am surprised that he did it. Even more, though, I'm surprised that he continues to text me.

I'm sure I come off as a total – what was it Kurt called me? Oh yeah, Neanderthal, what with all my talk of video games and food, but he doesn't seem to mind. Or, if he does, he does a pretty good job of pretending otherwise.

It's probably mind-numbingly boring to him. He'd probably prefer talking about musicals or clothes, but I'm not good at that stuff. That's why he has Berry and that Jones girl. But I guess if he's making an attempt to pretend like he cares about my Nordic character on Skyrim, I can at least try to watch a musical.

'Don't ask questions, but what's that musical with the gangs that you tried out for this year?'

There was a brief pause – as there always was – before Kurt's quick response.

'You mean West Side Story?'

'Yup. That's the one.'

With the name written down on a sticky note, I slid the cell phone in my pocket and left my room, taking the stairs two at a time before I found my dad sitting in the living room.

"Hey, uh, could you do me a favor?" My hands are getting sweaty – a sign of nerves, though I'm not sure where they come from.

Dad looks up from the baseball game he's been watching. "Sure, son, what do you need?" He's eager to do whatever I want; anything to keep me from – well, anything to keep me happy.

"Could you, um, could you go and rent this movie?" As I ask him, I hand him the tiny piece of paper with the quickly scribbled title.

To his credit, Dad doesn't say anything. His brow arches slightly, but instead of commenting, he nods and turns off the television, preparing to go just then. "Of course. Did you want anything else?"

I pause at that. "Yeah, um, would you want to watch it with me?"

The smile that breaks out on my dad's face makes me sure that I've said the right thing and I smile in return, pleased with myself.

"Of course."


'Yup. That's the one.'

I stare at the text message while I'm pouring over what to wear to dinner with Blaine. Why is David interested in West Side Story all of a sudden? Is it for some sort of homework assignment? Does he have to write an essay about the parallels of mid-1950s New York and 14th century Verona?

I puzzle over it for another moment or two before deciding, yes, that has to be the reason. David has to watch it for school. That's why he was asking. It was only a coincidence that it was somehow linked to me. He probably only thought to ask me because I made a big deal about not being cast as Tony and Santana probably bitched about it to him…

Or was that it?

I shake the thought from my head. David may've thought he liked me once, but a lot has happened since then… Things that are much more important and pressing than whatever feelings he thought he had for me. And, besides, I'm still with Blaine.

Almost immediately as I have the thought, I recall that I am supposed to be getting dressed for our date.

Deciding to leave my response to later, I hurry over to my wardrobe and begin mixing and matching clothes together until I have the perfect date ensemble. Pleased with myself, I pull on my coat, make sure my cell phone is in my pocket, and head to meet Blaine, who Finn informs me has just pulled up.


If I'm honest, it wasn't that bad. West Side Story, I mean.

In fact, in between the Sharks and the Jets hilarious dancing, my dad's running commentary, and the huge bowl of popcorn that we shared, I can't remember a time recently in which I've felt so at ease.

As soon as the credits began to roll, Dad turned to me and smiled. "I'm glad we did this, Dave."

I nodded, in complete agreement. "Me too."

Then, as he got up to take our now empty bowl to the kitchen, I spoke. "Would you – would you want to do this again?"

He smiled and nodded, clearly pleased at my desire to do something with him. "Of course. I'll pick up another movie on the way in from work."

"Make it a musical," I tell him, giving him a sheepish smile before turning the channel back to sports so he can see who won before I head to my room.

When I get into my room, I quickly start up my xbox, ready to play some Skyrim. From what Kurt had said yesterday, he had a date with pretty boy – no, his name is Blaine – tonight and I didn't want to interrupt.

So, instead of worrying about texting him, I turned my attention to the screen and began trying to kill a dragon.


The date I had anticipated as being romantic had turned out to be anything but when Sebastian conveniently showed up at Breadstix.

If Blaine knew he had planned to show up, then he at least had the decency to look shocked by his sudden appearance. Regardless, though, it left me more than a little irritated - particularly when Sebastian barely greeted me. Not that I cared to talk to him. But Blaine was my boyfriend. Mine. Not his. And he needed to get that through his thick skull.

From that moment on, the date had just gone downhill. Blaine was friendly to Sebastian and, even when the Warbler finally left, the only romantic thing he managed to do was ask about how my food was.

I think it's safe to say that the date left much to be desired. Though, of course, I didn't tell Blaine that. Instead, I had listened to his detailed plans for us to win at Nationals, sat quietly in the car on the ride home, and kissed him goodnight when he walked me to my door.

It just seemed like too much trouble to bring it up. 'Hi, honey, could you be a little more romantic? I'd appreciate it. Thanks.' Besides, it would probably leave both of us irritated.

So, instead, I tried to forget that the date had happened and, after briefly talking to Carole and dad, I said goodnight and went upstairs to prepare for bed.

After my moisturizer routine was complete, I walked over to my bed and took up my cell phone, checking to see if I had any messages.

When I saw that I had a message, I was shocked to find myself disappointed it wasn't from David. I tried to rationalize my disappointment by telling myself that I was worried – after all, I hadn't heard from him since earlier in the day. It was only reasonable to worry about your friend – especially a friend who could still be considered a suicide risk.

Not entirely convinced by my argument, I checked the message – from Blaine – and returned the sentiment out of reflex ('I love you, too.') before opening a new text.

'I heard you can get married on Skyrim, is it true?'

Then, once the message was sent, I settled down in my bed and drifted off to sleep.


Yep. That's a thing I did.