Blaine.

The moment those words are out of my mouth, I stop paying attention to the noise of the fireworks and listen instead for Kurt. I think he might have gone, which is upsetting since he's the first friend I've made off my own back since I was fourteen. But then again, we've only been sitting here for fifteen minutes. Is that long enough to count someone as a friend?

"You're blind?"

"Oh!" I catch my breath, and smile. "Yeah."

"You never said."

"I thought you'd guessed," I admit, suddenly feeling very foolish. "That's why I'm kinda stuck here, and why I was holding onto my brother earlier. I stupidly left my cane at home. I've never done that before. I wanted to go back for it, but we were already here, and Cooper said he'd keep me close, only he didn't so... I'll shut up."

"No, don't it's fine," he says, though the tone of his voice tells me it's anything but. "I just... I don't know what to say."

"Well, that's better than most."

"Huh?"

"Usually, when people find out, they either leave, or they start rambling about their great aunt who went blind at ninety seven, or they pretend like I just haven't said anything, like it doesn't make a difference, when it really does."

"Of course it does," Kurt says bluntly. "You can't see."

"Quite."

"Sorry. Have you always...?"

"No. Car accident when I was fourteen. The day of my birthday, no less. A truck went into the side of us, hitting the rear passenger side where I was sitting."

"And it took your eyes out?"

I laugh loudly. I know from his laugh that he's joking, and he's pleased he's made me happy. "Yeah. Took them right out." I'm still laughing and somehow, explaining what happened doesn't seem as awkward and upsetting as it usually does. "I was leaning against the window, earbuds in. I didn't hear it, notice it, nothing. Then suddenly I felt the most almighty shove, and then black. Turns out the truck hit me on the left hand side of my skull, and the result of that was it impacted on the part of my brain that controls sight. So that was it."

"That was it?"

"Well, it was more than that. I had a broken shoulder, collarbone, wrist, pelvis, femur... I was trapped in the car and had to be cut free. I'm basically held together by pins."

"Oh my god. But your sight...The doctors couldn't save it?"

"No. They operated, since my retinas had become detached, but the brain damage is the actual reason I can't see. Here, gimme your hand."

It's weird; I have to hold the arms or hands of a lot of people now, but taking Kurt's hand in mine feels strange. I hold it carefully, afraid that he might snatch it away at any moment, like I do when I'm not aware someone is about to touch me, but he doesn't, even though he is shaking.

I carefully raise his fingers into my hair, running them gently along the bumpy raised line that runs from just behind my left ear, up and over my head before disappearing on the other side.

"Your hair is really soft," he says, his voice full of tenderness. "I mean, the scar feels a bit gross, and the gel is hideous, but your actual hair is lovely."

"Ha!" I like his bluntness, his ability to make wisecracks when I know he's internally freaking out. "The rest of my brain works fine," I feel the need to add. "It's just that part that they couldn't save."

"You're lucky to be saved at all, by the sounds of it."

"Indeed."

"Were your parents driving?"

"Cooper. His girlfriend was in the front. She escaped with minor injuries. Cooper had bad whiplash, but it was me who took the full impact. It wasn't his fault," I rush on, before he can ask, like most people do, if he'd been drinking. "The truck driver fell asleep at the wheel and his foot hit the accelerator. Could have been worse. So much worse."

"Yeah, but I'll bet your brother blames himself."

"He does, yeah. How did you know?"

"Because I know how I'd feel, that's why. So tell me, do you see anything, or just black?"

"I see..." I stop, thinking of how to explain. I've told mom, dad and Cooper exactly what I do see, but they are all convinced it's my brain playing tricks on me. Being blind means a lot of well-meaning people assume they know you better than you know yourself, I find.

"I see color, but not... Like today, it's hot, right? Sunny? And I can see the brightness... I see it as flames. Not distinguishable flames. More like a never ending swirl of orange and red, with no discernible pattern or direction. When it's cold, or rainy, I see dull grays and navy. At night it's black and grays... Sometimes there's white, when I wake, but never green. I miss green. And yellow. Purple. Pink."

"Are you going to go through the whole rainbow?"

"Sorry."

"No, don't be, I'm just teasing you. Of course you miss the colors. I find it interesting, though, that your brain responds to the weather in that way. Or is it responding to the brightness of the sky, on any given day?"

"The brightness, I think. But it makes no difference if I'm facing a building with the sun glinting off it, or sitting here, by the water, or wherever I am. On a bright day, it's always orange and red."

"Hmm. Do you remember much? Like how things looked before?"

"Yes, but those memories are fading. I know I hated my hair. I remember things like trees, cats, dogs, cars, that sort of stuff. Generic stuff. But when I think of my parents, or Cooper, they're fuzzy. Like maybe I don't want to see them because it will hurt too much? I don't know this town. We moved here, you see, after the accident. Before that we were living in West Virginia."

"How come you moved?"

"Uh, well, school was... You see, I was in my last year of middle school and by the time I was out of hospital, it was summer. So then I had to start at high school and it was daunting, to say the least. So much to get used to. I'd moved up with all my friends, only they weren't my friends anymore. They were these kids who never knew how to act around me, who were afraid to suggest a trip to the movies, or bowling, who didn't invite me anywhere because they thought I couldn't do it, or enjoy it. So I became more or less a recluse, just me and my piano, until dad announced we were moving for a fresh start. Cooper lives in Columbus so it's nearer to him anyway. He's my friend."

"He's older?"

"He's twenty nine."

"Oh. A lot older."

"Yeah."

"So tell me the best thing about being blind."

"The best thing?"

"Yeah. I mean, there's gotta be some perks, right?"

The question is so completely alien that for a second I think about snapping at Kurt to mind his own business, but then I think, swallowing my temper down. "My mom can always get a good parking spot at Target."

"Come on."

"I guess I notice stuff more," I begin slowly. "Which is weird, since I can't see but... People, you know? I'm quite good at knowing how people are really feeling, based off of their voice. I pay attention to the tone, or their choice of words. The slight inflections which tell me if someone is lying, or trying to get out of having a conversation with me, which is good, since I know to politely excuse myself so they don't feel awkward."

"So they don't feel awkward? Man, I'd tell them to go fuck themselves."

I laugh, a little shocked at his cursing, though I don't know why. He's an adult, I tell myself. A grown man.

"I've learned to appreciate things, live in the moment, that kind of thing," I continue, sensing that Kurt is genuinely interested in my reply. "Things like an unusual birdsong in the trees can make me stop in my tracks and just listen. I'm trying to be more adventurous, but that's hard for me, since I never really was to start with. But I hope to go to college, which is why I'm working on being out in busy public places a little more."

"What's the worst thing?"

"Just that. Being out in busy spaces. I'm quite a quiet person, naturally, so to suddenly hear a whole cacophony of noise can make me really uneasy. When people approach me and I involuntarily jump about a mile..."

"Like you did with me?"

"Yeah."

There's a long pause then, and I become aware of Kurt shifting about, possibly to set his drink down. "I'm gonna move a little closer, okay?"

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to?"

"You don't have to."

"That's not what I said."

I feel his hand come down between us as he slides closer and we sit side by side, our knees touching. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

"So tell me what the worst thing is."

"How long have you got?" I pause, bringing Doctor King's words to mind. "Be positive, Blaine, even on your darkest days. A positive outlook is what will stop you going under."

"Just not seeing," I say, aware that it sounds terribly pathetic. "Not being able to read people."

"But you said..."

"I know, I know. I'm more acutely aware of people's tone, but I miss seeing people's faces as they talk. Just now, you laughed, and I wish I could see that... I wish... I wish I wasn't a social pariah. Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"Like who?"

"Fair point. Okay. I think...before the accident...I think I was okay looking. And Cooper says none of my scars are visible when I'm clothed... But no one looks at me, you know? No girls, guys... I'm not out at my school, but neither am I in. There's no point in telling anyone I'm gay because no one thinks of me as having any of those feelings at all. It's just been junior prom and for the first time in my life, I asked someone out. A girl, just as a friend. I sit with her in French, and she's always really nice to me. But she turned me down, because she didn't want to drive herself to prom, or have my parents take us. And I can't do anything about that, can I? There's this guy on the dodgeball team, always has the most mesmerising voice when he talks, but he just pats me on the back as I pass, which makes me flinch, and I know he doesn't see me, doesn't notice me as anything other than the blind kid."

"You play dodgeball?"

"I'm good. But that's not really the point."

"No it's not, you're right." Kurt sighs, and leans into me a little more. "I see you."

"For now, yes, and I'm grateful."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've had a really nice time with you, and I thank you for your company. But you live in New York."

"I told you I come back a lot."

There's something to his tone that sounds sad, as if I've offended him in some way, but surely a twenty seven year old fashion writer from New York is not interested in being friends with a seventeen year old blind kid?

"You wanna know another bad thing?" I ask.

"What?"

"My dad has to shave me."

I don't know why that makes him laugh, but it does, and he seems to laugh for the longest time before eventually calming, and resting his head onto my shoulder. I like it.

"Oh Blaine. Hell, you're adorable, you know that?"

Yes, is my answer, I do know that. I know that because I hear it all the time, as if I were a two year old. Only, it's not usually directed at me. It's usually said to my parents, as if I were incapable of either receiving a compliment, or answering to one. I hate being called adorable, usually, but there's something about the way Kurt says it. Something...flirty? No. I shove that thought to the back of my mind and lock it firmly away.

"You're um... You're leaning on me."

Kurt stiffens and pulls away. "Sorry."

"I just wasn't sure if you...if you meant to."

"I meant to," he says quietly, and I'm suddenly aware that he's close to my shoulder once more, his breath tickling my ear. "I wanted to...but I probably shouldn't."

"Boyfriend in New York?"

"No, I'm just... Aware that you're very young."

Everything in me sinks. "And blind."

"No!" The firm loudness makes me startle, and he places a hand on my arm to keep me still. "It's not the fact that you're blind, is it? How can it be? I was attempting to flirt with you before I even knew. I just... I feel awkward about..."

"Blaine!"

Of all the times for my brother to reappear, this was possibly the worst. I groan, outwardly and inwardly, and quickly squeeze Kurt's hand where it rests on my arm, before he takes it away and gets to his feet. I feel Cooper standing protectively behind my back, probably glaring at Kurt, so I get to my feet too, and turn around to face him.

"Coop, this is Kurt. Kurt, meet my brother, Cooper."

Neither say hello, and this is another time when I curse my lack of sight, because I can't tell, but I'm pretty sure they're squaring off to one another. "Hello?" I call uncertainly.

"Car, Blaine, now."

"But I..."

"But nothing. Here." He grabs my elbow and steers me away.

"Cooper!"

"Hey! Don't force him away like that!" I hear footsteps and my heart soars, to know that Kurt won't be so easily dismissed. "I was in the middle of a conversation with your brother, nothing more. If you're that concerned about his welfare, why did you bail on him to go chasing some girl?"

This time, I groan inwardly, as Cooper's grip tightens on my arm. "Maybe, just for once, I don't want to babysit my kid brother. Maybe I assumed that with him sitting here, he'd be safe from predators and people who've got nothing better to do than to mess with the emotions of a blind kid. Maybe, I'd like some kind of life that doesn't revolve around constantly caring for Blaine."

Every single word smacks like a punch to the gut, and the venomous anger and bitter resentment in his voice twists inside of me so much that I barely hear what Kurt says next, but I know his voice is calm and collected. Still, he has to call my name to make me pay attention.

"Huh?"

"I said I wasn't here to mess with you, or lead you on. I'd like to get your number, if I can?"