A Light in the Attic. Mercedes hadn't seen that book for years and here it was at the local thrift store. Good old Shel Silverstein. She reached for it but was too slow. The book was grabbed by a tanned boy with wild curly hair. He opened the book, looking for something. He laughed softly so Mercedes guessed it was his favorite book too. The boy looked familiar but not quite right. Her photography teacher kept saying concentrate on the face, the bone structure, the eyes, ignore everything else so she tried that. She could see that face in a preppy suit with slicked back hair.

"Blaine! I didn't recognize you! How are you? Do you shop here a lot?."

"No, I just noticed it the other day." He said in a "how do I know you?" kind of way. She laughed because she knew she looked a lot different than the last time he saw her. She decided to throw him a hint.

"Is Kurt here with you?"

"No, not exactly his kind of place." Okay, so this was somebody from McKinley. Mercedes? No, can't be. The hair was wrong, the clothes were wrong, the weight's all wrong. He closed his eyes and listened. She knew he didn't know who she was and starting talking about Shel Silverstein and how this was her favorite book, not counting The Giving Tree. "Mercedes? You look great! What happened?"

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." she laughed. "Fat camp happened. Lost 20 pounds, mostly hair." she said running her hands through her now short, curly hair. It had been long and straight the last time he saw her. "Like your hair, by the way. Is that permanent or just for the summer?"

"At least until the end of summer." Now, what was her 'secret' boyfriend's name. Blaine was not a big believer in secret boyfriends but they had seemed happy enough when he saw them at the beginning of the summer. Of course secret boyfriends always start out as big fun, don't they? Sam. "How's Sam?"

"I don't know, you'd have to ask Quinn that question."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He wasn't exactly sure who Quinn was or even if Quinn was a he or a she. He'd have to ask Kurt.

"Well, my grandmother used to always say "If a relationship NEEDS to be a secret you don't NEED to be in it." I guess this is what she was talking about. Anyway, it's not like I didn't see it coming. I could never figure out why I had to be a secret, and Lord knows I tried. Santana wasn't a secret, Quinn wasn't a secret. Well, I guess she was a secret the second time. Anyway..." Neither one of them knew what to say next. "Well, tell Kurt I said hi." she started to walk away but returned. "Speaking of Kurt, make sure you check out the jewelry section. Let me show you. This place is great for cuff-links and old-fashioned stuff people never wear anymore. I used to buy his presents here all the time. Vintage – that sounds ever so much nicer than used, don't you think?" They were standing closer to the door now. "And if you see Rachel, tell her I said hi. See you." She said leaving the store.

He was driving towards Kurt's house a half hour later when he saw her walking a bike with a flat tire down the street.

"Hi, do you need a ride?" he said pulling over.

"Thanks, but I'm only three blocks from home."

"I didn't realize you lived so close to Kurt."

"Lima's not that big. It's nothing compared to Toledo. That's where you're from, right?"

"Yes, I live at Dalton during the school year but my mother's in Toledo and my father's in Columbus."

"I thought Kurt said something like that. You know what? You can do me a favor. I need to send something to him. Make a right at the corner and down two blocks. 1817. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Blaine sat on the front porch and waited while she walked the distance. Between the weight loss, hair cut and the clothes she was almost unrecognizable. She and Kurt were supposedly shopping buddies but Blaine could never visualize that. First, Kurt was an Olympic level shopper – marathon division whereas Blaine was more of a sprinter. Blaine loved the boy but avoided shopping with him. Kurt could happily look at hundreds of blue shirts. Blaine would check the sale rack and if that failed buy whatever was closet to the cash register. Five minutes was his goal. Mercedes, the old Mercedes, didn't dress like the kind of person who would enjoy Kurt's idea of shopping. Frankly, she dressed like a person who put a priority on clean and comfortable and didn't much care how she looked. This new Mercedes was dressed in jeans and a longish white top, tasteful and flattering. Maybe she learned that in fat camp.


"Flowers? You didn't have to do that. You're not THAT late." Kurt took the bouquet of flowers Blaine handed him. "Hydrangeas! I love these. Did you know you can tell how acidic the soil is by the color? Mercedes' grandmother used to grow these, that's how I know about the color. Thank you." Kurt kissed him like he hadn't see Blaine in weeks.

"You can thank Mercedes. She sent them. And this." he said handing Kurt a manila envelope.

"Where did you see Mercedes?" He flipped though the photographs in the envelope.

"In town. Remember that thrift store I mentioned the other day? The book selection there is pretty good."

"Oh." He was looking at a picture of him and Rachel laughing in front of Tiffany's. "I'm surprised she kept this. On the other hand, it's a nice composition. That must be some lens on her camera, we didn't even see her. How's Sam?"

"They broke up."

"Really? They seemed so happy."

"That was months ago, that time we saw them in the coffee shop. Being in a relationship where you make out in the moonlight who somebody who pretends they don't know in in the daylight isn't the easiest thing in the world."

Kurt could be pretty clueless but something in Blaine's voice caught his attention. He put down the pictures and sat down on the sofa next to Blaine. Blaine leaned his head against the taller boy's shoulder. "Remember I told you once I was never anybody's boyfriend? Once I thought I was. I wasn't out then so the secret part made sense. Anyway, once he got what he wanted the whole thing was over." He took a deep breath. "I didn't know you that well back then, that's why I said it that way. And then, later...I didn't know what you'd think."

"I think...I think that guy was a fool to be handed something priceless like that and to treat it like garbage. I think there's nothing in your past that would make me stop loving you. I think as long as we keep talking to each other we'll be okay. I think I'm lucky to have a boyfriend who trusts me so much. I think- "

"I love you Kurt." Blaine's head was still resting on Kurt's shoulder. Blaine's impossibly wild hair smelled of whatever mango coconut concoction he used on it. Kurt waited until he heard Blaine sigh deeply. "Anyway, that's why I came out. I wanted the next time, the first time that really counted, to be with somebody who wasn't ashamed of who he was and who I was."

"Blaine, look at me and promise me something." He waited until Blaine's brown eyes were locked on his blue eyes. "I know you didn't want to go to the prom, and you definitely didn't want to stay after the prom queen thing. I know you did that for me. If you ever need, or want, me to do something for you, or need me to stop doing something that bothers you, tell me and we'll work it out. I think that's how I messed up with Mercedes so badly. I just assumed she liked doing whatever I wanted to do because she never objected. I think she didn't feel like she could ask for anything and just assumed I didn't care because I never asked her what she wanted. Please. Ask. Promise?"

"I promise." Blaine smiled and kissed him. "Speaking of Mercedes, she also sent this." He pulled a handful of leaves from his bag. "She said I sounded 'scratchy', whatever that means, and you'd know what to do. You're not going to make a love potion, are you? Because it's too late."

"As if I have to resort to that." He pulled off a leaf and crushed it between his fingers. "What do you smell?" he said holding his hand under Blaine's nose.

"Lemon?" he guessed. He grabbed Kurt's hand and kissed his fingers.

"Right, It's called lemon balm. She's right, you do sound scratchy, like you're getting a cold, and all I need is water and honey. Another Grandma Jones specialty. So, what did Mercedes think of your hair?"

"She thinks it's magnificent. Have you seen her lately?"

"Not since that day in the coffee shop. I tried to call her a couple of times. Either she's avoiding me or she's really out of town. Why?"

"She really was out of town. She wants to take a portrait of us. She says the hair and tan make me look exotic, "All South Pacific" she said. She made me promise to let her document it if I get it cut. She's building a portfolio for college admission."

"Art, not music?"

"That's what she said. She's back so you could call her sometime and ask her yourself."

"I'll stop over later to thank her for the pictures."


A Light in the Attic is a book of poetry by Shel Silverstein

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