A/N: So, here's the second chapter :) I am overwhelmed by the positive people on this site - you all rock! I feel like I must have posted something I wasn't aware of, since you all liked it so much... I mean it was only 2000 words? :) Anyway, here's 7600 for you - enjoy!

I forgot to mention that we're in the year 2010 and that Blaine's story starts at New Year's that year (after the episode 'Sectionals'), while Kurt's starts in March (just before Theretical, which means Burt hadn't asked Carole and Finn to move in). I hope that answers some questions or gives some perspective at least.

The song of this chapter is rather well known and is called 'This is the life' by the Scottish singer Amy McDonald. Again I can really recommend listening to it!

Oh, and please consider leaving a review! :)


Chapter two: This is the life


March 16th

Kurt

You'd think your bed would be the one place for you to find peace. You're alone in a dark, cool room only disturbed by a trapped fly or the sounds coming from outside your window. But when all you really need is to not be alone, going to bed can be a daily struggle. No one in the Hummel house had been sleeping well, since the man of the house had not returned from the hospital. Mornings were quiet and evenings became later and later, since all three occupants dreaded the night and it's many long hours of darkness and no sleep.

Kurt had actually managed to fall asleep that night, but just like any other night, his mind simply wouldn't leave him alone. A terrible, specially designed nightmare kept forming inside his head.

Kurt is pacing around his room, waiting for someone. After what feels like hours a door opens and his father stands in the door frame with a smile on his face.

"Dinner's ready, kiddo," his dad says and turns around, as if to leave the room. Kurt feels this all consuming anger form in his chest and jumps on his father's back, screaming at him for leaving without a single good bye. He scratches his dad's face until blood is running down his cheeks and pulls his clothes, until it tears. But at the end, his dad only turns around and he's still smiling. "We're having pasta tonight."

Kurt is then in class watching how the hands on the watch skip past each other, like they're dancing. Then a knock stops his whole existent, and a doctor walks into the room, jumps on him and tries to strangle him. Suddenly his class mates join in, and he feels hands all over him scratching, pulling, while watching the watches hands dance around on their pale background.

Kurt jolted awake.

His first thought was to make it stop. Because the feeling of being hurt by twenty sets of hands didn't disappear as he woke. Only he didn't know how to make it stop. He took a couple of seconds to bring himself back to his dark bedroom, by burying his face in his hands. He was shaking with a need to be held. Held really close. Even a simple touch to his hair or a hug of his shoulders would do it. He'd been getting cravings of touch ever since his dad stopped giving them to him, but whenever Carole would put her arms around him or Mercedes stroke his cheek, he'd feel a need to pull away even though it felt so good to be comforted by touch.

After a while he put on slippers and walked up the stairs. It'd been the same dream ever since they came home from the hospital. Some nights it had extended scenes filled with pictures of a sobbing Finn, or a picture of Carole on the kitchen floor desperately crawling towards a chair. But most nights it was just those two scenes – the one with his dad, and the one where he got to relive the day he got the news.

When he turned the corner in the hall, he caught a glimpse of someone in the kitchen. He carefully opened the kitchen door, as to not scare the person, whom he then identified as Carole in her pajamas and slippers. As he entered the kitchen, she looked up from the kitchen island, where she was standing. Her eyes and cheeks were red and she was not even trying to hide it.

"Hi," she whispered. Without another word she opened her arms, and Kurt curled his back to let his head rest against her shoulder, as he exhaled deeply. He felt like stepping away from her, but the hug wasn't just for him – she needed it just as much.

"I thought you went to sleep," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"I thought you did too," she responded and buried her face in his hair.

"Nightmare." That was all the explanation she needed.

"Kurt, I'm... Are you hungry?" He knew she was about to say something about being sorry, but they'd already covered that one. He was sorry that her boyfriend was... not there anymore, and she was sorry that... he'd lost a father.

"No," he mumbled and let go of her. He looked into her brown eyes and decided, they both really needed this. He lay one hand on her wrist, connection their dark forms right there in the kitchen. "What happened?" he whispered. She didn't need any explanation to know what he meant.

"We lost him," she said, tears staining her voice. He shook his head.

"Wh-what happened to him, Carole?" he got out. She inhaled and tried looking anywhere but at the teen before her, but then her eyes determinedly returned to his, as she took a deep breath.

"He died, Kurt."


March 17th

Kurt

At school most people were walking on eggshells around Kurt. Never had he gone that long without having a slushie thrown at him. Never had he been offered as many solos in glee club. Never before had people come up and patted him on the shoulder, as if they were old friends. He somewhat understood his few friends' reactions, but those random shoulder pats were what confused him. Were they messing with him? Would they just stop bullying him from one day to the next? Would the sudden friendliness wear off after a couple of weeks? It was really messing with him, not knowing if he'd walk into a jock with a slushie around the corner. Sure, his status as a cheerio had given him a status boost, but he'd still been gay and very flamboyant, so the bullying had never really stopped.

Maybe they'd stay away because of... his current situation. Maybe being an orphan and a cheerleader could outweigh being in glee club and being attracted to guys. Plus they'd always explained the bullying with being his own fault for being too flamboyant and too expressive. That they couldn't complain about anymore. After his father... passed, he stopped really caring about something as shallow as looks. He'd go to school dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers or in his cheerleading uniform. So maybe, just maybe, they'd lay off.

As the bell rang students gathered around the doors to go to class, and before Kurt knew it, he was standing alone in the hall. He picked up his bag and hurried to his English class. When he stepped inside, his teacher had already started the lesson, but yet again being a new orphan kept him out of trouble. She simply let him find his seat without even commenting on his being late.

"All right, so I read your papers over the weekend, and I can't say, I was impressed. We just went through intertextuality! And none of you thought of pointing out the symbolism of the apple. Now, from where do we know the apple?" the teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, asked the class.

"Twilight?" Jessica Branch said from the mid row, which resolved in a deep sigh from the teacher.

"Not exactly. Twilight got the apple from somewhere too. Where could that be? Mr. Schwartz?" Oliver Schwartz looked up from his phone, and if Mrs. Jenkins hadn't noticed him texting before the guilty look on his face completely gave him away.

"Eh, the one with the dwarfs?" he said, giving their teacher a little more satisfied look on her face.

"Snow White, it's called. And yeah, there's an apple there, but it's still not the apple that I'm thinking about. And put that phone away. Anyone?" She let her eyes wander around the class and stopped at Kurt sitting there by himself looking down on his table. He had withdrawn from the class completely as of lately, and she did not like when her students resigned from her class.

Kurt felt her stare and knew what was coming, when she readied herself to speak again.

"Kurt? What apple am I talking about?"

He knew, what she was referring to, but couldn't find the energy to care, so he simply shrugged, encouraging her to ask someone else.

"Fine," she sighed. "Anyone else? It's the oldest story of time," she hinted. Suddenly Joanna Miller got it. "Yes, Joanna?"

"The bible. With Adam and Eve. They had an apple, right?"

"Yes, and that's exactly the one I'm looking for here. You see, the apple's been a symbol ever since people became christian. However it's not always a symbol of wisdom like in the bible. Oliver mentioned Snow White. That's a wonder tale, so we don't know for sure if it's written in a christian society. Now, what could the apple be a symbol of in a story like Snow White?"

Kurt had sort of stopped paying attention in class, ever since his father got in the hospital. In the beginning Carole had been after him about homework and showing up for classes, but when his dad... when Kurt had become an orphan, she'd laid off of him, and just let him do things his own way regarding school. He'd been back only two days after, which had been his own choice. He didn't see the point of moping around the house. He'd be alone too. Finn had gone to school after only one day of skipping, and Carole had shifts at the hospital, she couldn't trade. Kurt had developed a small fear of being alone. If he was always with someone, he wouldn't break down as easily. Only twice had he cried in public, one of the times being, when the doctor had told them at the hospital. The other time had been on his first day back, when Rachel had tried getting him to talk about his... loss. That had been the last thing, he'd wanted, and since that breakdown his friends had only offered condolences and never even mentioned for him to share his feelings.

"Remember how the Queen gave Snow White the apple? What was she doing?" the teacher hinted, but her class really was clueless, not even Kurt knew, what she was fishing for anymore. "Okay, if Wendy and I are friends," she started, and received chuckles around the classroom, when Wendy just sat there with a surprised expression towards her teacher. "If we were friends, and I then did something to hurt her, what would I have done?"

"Gone behind her back?" Eliza Cowan suggested.

"Well, that too, but how would Wendy feel?"

"Betrayed?" Collin Boggs in the front row said and Mrs. Jenkins broke into a smile.

"Yes! She'd feel betrayed, because I was her friend. So what can the apple be a symbol of?"

"Betrayal," Kurt said, while looking his teacher right in the eyes. At first she was thrown off by the fact that he was even talking, but then she smiled wryly.

"Exactly," she said, just looking at him for a moment, before returning to her teaching.

When the bell rang Kurt went to put his books in his locker. He was stopped however by a certain cheerleading coach in a hot red tracksuit with a fierce look in her eyes.

"Porcelain," she called, making him stop to listen. "Why are you not in your uniform?" He looked down his body and discovered that she was right - he was wearing normal clothes.

"Uhm... I forgot about today's practice, I guess. I'm sorry, coach," he said a little confused. He could have sworn he'd put it on that morning. Was he really that unfocused?

"I can't say I'm surprised, baby face. I haven't seen that little tush of yours at practice lately," she said with a stern look.

"My dad... I lost my father last week," he explained, still having trouble saying the words.

"I know that. You'd think it was the exit sign on Titanic the way people people have been talking about it. Note's were all over the teacher's lounge last week. Keyword being 'last week', porcelain. Now, I understand you having to take a few days off, since Figgins is determined that we're all human – oh how wrong he is – but one can not be a cheerio and not show up for practice for an entire week," she told him. He had been missing training. He'd even missed a couple of glee club rehearsals. Everyone had told him to 'work at his own pace' and 'take his time', but before him was a woman, who'd never make compromises for anyone.

"Yes, of course. I just... I've just needed some time, but I'll be better. I'll definitely be there today, I promise," he said with an pleading look. She looked, as if she was considering.

"Have you seen the sign up sheet for the cheerios? I have won five national championships for this school. I've only been accepting your absence because Creepy Vest and the redhead convinced me to wait before kicking you off the team. That and of course our plans for nationals. Tragically I can't seem to find another male able to sing Celine Dion in French around this school," Kurt was used to her inhuman ways of speaking to kids, but it was kind of getting to him, how insensitive she was being.

"Coach Sylvester, I am sorry for missing-" he started, but was cut off.

"I believe you no matter how much my instincts are screaming at me to just give up on you. I believe in you, Porcelina. Coming from me that is the biggest compliment, you'll ever get, trust me on that one," she said gently patting his cheek, obvious to the hurt look on Kurt's face.


January 17th

Blaine

"Could you pass me the salt please?" Blaine's mother peeped from her seat between Blaine and her husband at the Anderson's dinner table. Blaine reached for the salt shaker at the same time as his father, and both retreated at once. Then his dad sighed, grabbed it and passed it to his wife.

Family dinners were rare and in Blaine's opinion not at all pleasant. Luckily it would only be once a week at the most, but Blaine dreaded those nights anyway. His mom would be in the kitchen, cooking something that could win a beauty contest yet so tasteless, you'd think you'd put air in your mouth. She'd never been one for spices, and as soon as dinner was on the table, they'd all grab for salt and pepper trying to make the food taste of anything really.

Blaine would be at Dalton all week, so it was only on the weekends his parents had a chance to ruin his nights. He would usually get out of dinner on Saturdays and then attend on Sundays. Excuses could be emergency study session with Jeff, party at David's house, too much homework or a stomach ache.

"How was your week, Blaine?" his mother asked with a smile. He poked the chicken with his fork and readied himself to speak.

"It was good. I got an A on that essay on great personalities," he said and looked at his father. He was chewing on a piece of salad looking bored. "Remember, you helped me with it last weekend, dad?"

"Right. Eh. What ehm who were you writing about again?" his father asked, brows furrowed. Blaine felt like sighing. Of course he wouldn't remember.

"Princess Diana," he told him.

"Yes, of course. I remember," his dad insisted.

"Don't you have some sort of competition coming up, honey?" his mother asked, not obvious to her husband's disinterest in her son, but she chose to ignore it.

"Yes, the Warblers are going to regionals in a few weeks. We're practicing for it almost every day at the moment," he answered. His mother would attend competitions, if nothing more important came up, but she was always horrible at keeping a calendar, so sometimes she'd forget. Of course he'd lost all hope, of his father ever attending one of his competitions a long time ago.

"You get to sing?" his mother asked.

"Well, I'm the lead soloist, so yeah I get to sing," he responded, swallowing another piece of dry chicken along with a couple of overcooked peas.

"Right. We should go, shouldn't we, Tom?" she proposed, but her husband cleared his throat and told her, he'd be out of town, and why couldn't she try and remember his schedule just for once. He then stiffly thanked her for dinner, grabbed his plate and glass and without another word left the table. An awkward silence spread at the table, but was broken by Blaine's mother's sigh. "I'm sorry about that, honey."

"It's fine," he mumbled, even though it wasn't. Something would always anger his dad and leave him with his mother, who'd be desperate to not choose a side. She brought the napkin to her lips, wiping her mouth carefully as to not ruin her lipstick yet still get any leftover juice from the chicken off.

"Uhm if you just put your plate by the sink, I'll take care of it later. Just... Would you have me excused?" she said in a low voice, sad look on her face.

"Yeah, of course," Blaine mumbled, as she scooted out her chair and shortly after ran up the stairs, calling for her husband.

Blaine let out a deep sigh and went to clear the table. Only ten minutes had they been in the same room, yet Blaine felt utterly exhausted.


March 18th

Kurt

Finn had made it his special project to cheer up Kurt. So far he hadn't had any success, but having a goal to fight for in those dark times, when he felt more like curling up in his dad's old chair with an teddy bear, which he totally only kept for comfort, was what kept him going. He'd tried playing video games with him, but Kurt had just rolled his eyes. Finn had tried telling him of how he would eat a sandwich or run labs when he felt down, but Kurt had excused himself with a headache and gone to his room. Finn was so confused – why was this dude so damn picky? Finn had always felt uncomfortable about Kurt, and when the guy had developed a crush on him, he'd been downright terrified of him. He'd hated when Kurt had encouraged their parents to start dating, but they had sort of come together on trying to split them up again. Then Finn had found Burt to be a pretty cool guy, and Kurt had freaked, though Finn was not really sure why. Then Burt had gotten sick, and Carole had been pushing him into caring a bit for Kurt. He felt really bad for him, knowing how it felt to not have a dad.

But Finn had a really hard time coming up with ways of comforting Kurt, until he thought of that one time he and his mom had slept over at the Hummel's house, and Kurt had brought him warm milk at night.

He quickly checked the fridge, and luckily his mom had remembered to buy low fat milk. Ever since Burt had passed, and they'd moved in with Kurt at his house, the household had started lacking basics. She would be so forgetful – something Finn had never experienced before. She'd be cooking something and suddenly discover, she hadn't turned on the stove or start preparing something else entirely without hesitating.

Finn got the milk, brought out a casserole, but then he was lost.

"What are you doing, honey?" Carole asked softly, as she entered the house through the kitchen door. She'd been at the garage, picking up the mail. A sign telling costumers who drove by that the shop was currently closed down due to Burt's passing had been put in the window of the shop the day after he died. Finn had promised to do some shifts, but the shop wouldn't be open the way it was before. At least not as long as Finn was still in high school.

"I thought, I'd warm some milk for Kurt, but then I remembered, I don't know how to," he explained and suddenly his mother was pushing him aside and warming the milk for him. She put a spoonful of honey in the mug and smiled at her grown son.

"I'm proud of you for being strong in this, Finn. I think Kurt appreciates it too, but he can't really look past his grief right now," she said, and Finn nodded.

"No, I get that. I just really wanna be there for him, you know? I'll go give him this. Maybe he'll talk," Finn said holding up the milk and headed for the door to the basement.

"Maybe. But Finn, honey, don't count on it, okay?" his mother called after him

"All right."

Kurt's room was dark beside from the vague light from the bedside lamp, which gave Finn a hard time seeing the steps he was walking down. He managed it to the floor of the basement without spilling a single drop, and he felt like throwing his fist in the air – victory!

"Finn? What are you doing down here?" Kurt asked softly, looking up from his pillow to the awkwardly tall teen standing in his room. Finn offered a shy smile, holding out the milk.

"I thought, I'd bring you this. You once got it for me, and I really liked that, so I made some for you. Well, actually my mom made it, but it was my idea, I swear," he said, placing the mug on Kurt's nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Wow, uh... thank you, Finn." Kurt sat up in his bed, so they were on eye level.

"You're welcome," Finn said with a smile. They sat like that for a little while, listening to Carole upstairs, where she was talking to someone.

"She on the phone?" Kurt asked looking towards the ceiling, where she was now pacing around upstairs. Finn shrugged.

"Don't know. It's sort of late," he mumbled and Kurt agreed by nodding his head.

"Thanks for the milk, Finn. Really but I... I know why you're doing this. We don't fool anyone. Before all of this we were... friendly, but not friends. I don't want you to establish a relationship with me, if you're just gonna ignore me, once I'm somehow okay again," Kurt said, shifting his gaze between Finn and the blanket covering his lower body.

"What? No, I wouldn't do that. I was kind of freaked out about our parents dating, but I thought we were friends. But Kurt we don't have a relationship – you know that, right? I'm straight – I told you."

"God, Finn, not that kind of relationship," Kurt said and was almost in tears judging on his voice. "You can have relations that aren't romantic or sexual. Being friends with someone is a relation," he explained, and Finn quickly caught up with him.

"Right. I knew that. Sorry," he sheepishly said.

"But this is what I'm talking about. You say, you want to be friends, but then you go and say stuff like that. It's true that I used to have a crush on you and that's why I brought Carole and my dad together in the first place, but it's not like that anymore, okay? I'm not into you."

"It came out wrong, okay? I didn't mean it like that. We're friends. I want to be your friend, Kurt," Finn told him. Kurt took a sip from his milk and then just stared at the blue eyed teen in front of him, trying to make out if Finn was being honest or not.

"Who do you think you are!? No, let me tell you something. We are doing absolutely fine on our own. You just stay away!" Carole's voice was yelling upstairs and startled both boys. They exchanged confused looks before both getting out of the bed and up the stairs.

In the kitchen Carole was pacing around and around the kitchen island not stopping before Finn grabbed both of her shoulders and asked her, what was wrong.

"The phone was ringing," she told him and ran her hands through her short hair. "First I didn't know who it was. She introduced herself as Katherine," she said and then looked to Kurt.

"My aunt Katherine?" he asked sounding confused. His aunt never called. Not even when... She just never called. His mom's sister was busy living her life as a big shot lawyer in Los Angeles. She'd only come to Ohio maybe once every other year for Christmas or thanksgiving, but then she'd only stay two or three days at the most, always eager to get back to her job and apartment in the big city.

"Yes, your aunt. She was angry, because she'd only found out about Burt today, and blamed me for not telling her," Carole continued.

"Mom that was never your job," Finn said.

"I know it wasn't. I told her that, but she still sounded offended. So she started asking questions about our living situation, which naturally would be in her interest, as she is Kurt's aunt and wants him to be taken care of. I told her of how we moved in here, about the garage and stuff, and she started asking other questions, about what she called 'Kurt's safety'," Carole told them.

"I'm sorry, you had to talk to her. Usually we ignore her calls," Kurt told the kitchen floor, still not used to saying 'I' instead of 'we' and that there was no 'usually' left in his life.

"No, no I didn't mind those questions, I only disliked the outcome. Apparently she was not pleased with any of the... solutions we've found and insisted, she'd do a much better job of taking care of you herself," Carole said, tears staining her voice. Suddenly Kurt's attention was caught. What?

"You don't mean she..." he trailed of, when Carole simply nodded.

"What? I don't follow," Finn asked a little desperately. "What does that even mean?"

"It means, Finn, that Kurt can't live with us. His aunt wants him with her," Carole explained, sounding absolutely exhausted. She couldn't deal with an angry relative at the moment. She was grieving – why didn't people get that?

"I'm not going to LA," Kurt said stubbornly. He just couldn't.

"She's not going to make you move to LA. She's talking about getting a place somewhere in Ohio. Maybe she'll even let you continue attending McKinley," Carole said.

"If she wants me in Ohio, then why can't I just stay here? Is it even legal for her to just demand custody?" Kurt asked, while pacing the kitchen floor the same way Carole had done it.

"I don't know why she won't let you stay here, but it's completely legal. She's your legal guardian, since Burt and I were not married," Carole told him.

"She can't be! She and my dad were not even close. Why would he give her custody? Why does she even want me? I'm..." Kurt was panicking. He wasn't sure why. It'd been a while since he'd felt anything other than alone and grief, but now he felt the crucial heat of anger run through his veins.

Carole sensed Kurt's mood and slowly made her way to put her arms around him, keeping him as close to her as she possibly could.

"I don't know, Kurt. We'll just have to see."


February 13th

Blaine

"I have a piece of something very blue. You see that anywhere?"

Blaine's mother had made a New Year's resolution of her own. She'd decided, she would spend more quality time with her son, whenever he was home. So when he came home the first weekend in the new year, she'd proudly presented, what she thought would be the ultimate mother-son activity. A puzzle. And a puzzle with 2500 pieces at that.

Blaine had felt like giving his mother a hug. He knew it wasn't easy for her to feel loyal in the house. His father was always irritated with him, but his mother kept standing up for Blaine when things went unfair – but that applied the other way around too. If she felt like Blaine was purposely trying to set off his father, she'd not be on his side.

"How about in the upper left corner? There's that poster. I've found a piece of the lamppost, try next to that," Blaine suggested, pointing towards the new puzzle of Times Square in New York they'd started after having finished the first one. This one was only 1000 pieces, and Blaine found himself thanking whoever planted the idea that he should pick out the next puzzle in his mother's head, since she'd had her eyes on the one with 5000 pieces.

"It fit!" his mother said with a wry smile at her son.

"Nice. I have a piece here with letters on it. They're white, and I think, it's says '-tion'," he explained, and they continued putting together their puzzle, piece by piece.

Eventually Blaine started humming. Ever since regionals, he'd had this song stuck in his head. It just refused to let go.

"Oh, written in the stars, a million miles away," Blaine sang softly, while trying to place a red puzzle piece. He was convinced it had to be from the 'Jersey Boys' poster, but it just didn't seem to fit anywhere. He didn't notice his mother stop to look at him as he continued to sing. "A message to the main, ooh, seasons come and go, but I will never change – I'm on my way."

"What song is that?" she asked him with a smile. He looked up from his struggle, a little surprised she'd even heard him, given how quietly he was singing.

"It's called 'Written in the stars'. We sang it at regionals, and it just hasn't left my mind since," he told her, finally seeing another red area, where his piece might fit.

"I'm still sorry I couldn't make it, Blaine," she said, returning to the puzzle herself.

"I know. It's okay, mom. I mean, you came at sectionals," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but I want to be there for you. Especially when you're singing lead," she told him with a smile and a wink. He couldn't help but smile too.

"I actually only sang lead on one song out of two."

"Was that the one you were just singing?" she asked, fitting another piece into a blank spot.

"No. The lyrics I was just singing were sung by me too, but the song's mainly a rap, and I just can't pull that off, so someone else did that part. No, my solo was fireflies by Owl City. I'm sure you know it – it's constantly on the radio." He picked up a green piece and held it to Elphaba's face to see, if the colors matched the poster from Wicked.

"Could you sing it for me?" she suggested, and Blaine couldn't help the grin that spread on his face.

"I don't have the Warblers with me – I don't even have music," he said.

"Oh come on, honey, please? For your old mom? Just a verse or two?" she urged.

"Fine!" he grinned. "You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies, lit up the world, as I fell asleep," he sang. "Cause they'd fill the open air, and leave teardrops everywhere, you'd think me rude, but I would just stand and stare."

"You are so talented, my sweet boy," his mom told him, placing her hands on his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "You'll get so far," she whispered before pulling him into a hug.


June 4th

Kurt

"I just can't believe this is good bye," Tina said through her tears. Quinn had an arm around her shoulders, but the small girl was still holding back sobs. It broke Kurt's heart to have caused such a reaction, but it also warmed it that his friends cared enough to cry for him. It made his inner diva glow with confidence.

"Now, it's not like I can't come visit you all. I'll only be a two hour drive away," Kurt said, but he was fighting back tears as well. They were all in the choir room on the last day of school. Around the school clubs were saying good bye for the summer, but for the glee club it was farewell to one of it's few original members. Kurt Hummel would not be at McKinley when school started back up in September. Instead he'd be making the drive to a town called Westerville the following day. His aunt had at first been fine with him attending McKinley, but then she'd found out about the bullying.

Katherine Hummel was not a lawyer for nothing. She made herself feel good by protecting and defending others, and her nephew would not be an exception. So instead she'd gone online and found a school in a nearby town that offered a safe environment and even a seemingly higher education standard. She'd then rented an apartment in said town and announced that he could move in on the fifth. She'd let him finish his sophomore year at his old school, but he was starting at Dalton Academy in the fall.

"Yeah, but how often will that be," Mercedes retorted, looking at her best friend with teary eyes.

"I don't know how often I'll visit at school, but I'll be in town at least once a week," he told them. He'd started seeing a psychologist in the end of may, whom he'd need to see once every second week and sometimes even more often. He was also in a grief group for teens that Carole had recommended at the hospital.

It had been clear that he'd needed help getting better at the end of March. His loss was sucking all joy out of his life. He wouldn't laugh, if Finn had pulled out two different socks in the morning. He'd never watch TV, since it just seemed to get him in an even crappier mood. He told Mercedes he was never really up for sleepovers and not even Rachel had any success in trying to convince him otherwise, though she was definitely the most persistent of his friends. Music was the only thing that seemed to bring him any kind of excitement or happiness. He wouldn't be pining for solos in glee club, but he had his iPod going at all times: in the car, in the bathroom, in bed, at breakfast, between classes, at the mall. He'd gotten better after he started going to his therapy sessions, but it was rare to see a smile on his face and no one had heard him laugh since March. He'd go to the mall with Mercedes, but would always wear his earphones while walking around the stands with clothes and albums. He'd actually talk to his friends, but at times he would zone out, excuse himself to go somewhere private and cry. It'd hit him out of the blue almost every day. He was without parents. His father was not around. He was alone just like he'd always feared.

"Mr. Schuester, may I say something?" Rachel asked, though it had been a while since someone had raised their hand, indicating they wanted the floor – they just spoke when there was an opening. But Rachel, being the perfect student she was, was determined to have her teacher's blessing before speaking. Mr. Schuester wagged his hand to tell her to just shoot. "Kurt, I want you to know that you are being freed of any obligations whatsoever towards this singing group. Last night I looked up Dalton Academy, and their very informative webpage told me, they have a glee club too – we've just never competed against them. They're called The Warblers and are an a cappella group. From the clips of them I found on different blogs and YouTube they are not bad. They're sort of flat on the higher notes and only seem to feature one voice during competition," Rachel said, not acknowledging the confused looks on her classmates faces, telling her that they only featured one voice during competition too – her. "I just want you to know that you don't owe us anything, and that you can join the Warblers, if that's what you wish," she finished with a smile. Kurt was stunned.

"I'm freed?" he repeated.

"Yes. It wouldn't be fair of us to expect of you to not continue to find joy in music, just because you no longer will do it in our company," she told him, totally missing the look on Kurt's face, telling her to just stop.

"You know, you don't have a say in what I do, right?" he asked her, racing an eyebrow before sending her a true bitch glare.

"She's just giving you our blessing to do whatever at that Gargler school," Puck defended.

"Wanky," Santana mumbled with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow, linking her pinky with Brittany.

"I've always been free, thank you very much. Sure I feel loyal towards New Direction, but if I wanted to join another glee club, I'd do so with or without your permission, Rachel Berry." Mercedes had forgotten her tears and was currently more occupied suppressing her laughter.

"Surely you must feel more than loyal towards the club? I mean, we were the ones who saved you, Kurt. When others were ignoring you or harassing you, the people in glee were there for you," she told him seriously. Kurt felt that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd long since identified as anger. Since his father passed his temper had gotten even worse. Now all it took was one of those totally obvious and annoying comments from Rachel, and he'd storm out of the room.

"That's always been your problem, hasn't it, Rachel? You're convinced this club is a union, when the truth is that we are no family. If we were, we would be a family where people spy, dump each other in the dumpsters, secretly hate each other and are scared of standing up for someone else, because of something as stupid as reputation," he said, quickly glancing towards Santana and Brittany.

"Now, Kurt, I don't think you're being fair here," Mr. Schuester said in a stern tone, indicating that this conversation was over.

"Just stating the obvious," Kurt half whispered, as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the red plastic chair.

"All right," the teacher said, moving towards the piano, pretending not to have heard Kurt's last words. "I really hope all of you will return next year – we have a next year, guys! I am so proud of you. And Kurt I hope, you'll be happy in Westerville, whether you choose to start singing there or not. You're welcome to visit any time."

"Yeah," Kurt mumbled, without really listening, already fingering the strap of his bag.

"Thank you for an amazing year, everybody. Of course it was too bad, we didn't place at regionals, but I promise you – next year is going to be better. You are all so talented, and hopefully the judges won't have been leaked and Sue," he said with a chuckle. "And let's cross our fingers for not competing against Vocal Adrenaline again next year."

"Yeah, and let's not have any more baby drama, 'cause I'm not sure I'll be able to take any more knocked up hormone bombs – like ever. It makes me wanna kick heads off of things," Santana said with a glare at the back of Quinn's head.

"Not planning on getting pregnant, Santana, so cut it out," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Besides, it's Kurt's turn next time," Brittany said with a shrug and a unconcerned smile.

"Brittany, I can't get pregnant," Kurt muttered from his seat next to Mercedes, who yet again was holding back laughter. Brittany then looked to Santana for explanation.

"What?" she asked her friend, and Santana just padded her knee.

"All right, anyone who want's the floor for a last performance?" Mr. Schuester asked and seconds later Rachel was belting out 'My favorite things' from 'The sound of music' with as much cockiness as possible. After her Quinn got the floor performing a slowed down version of 'Unwritten' by Natasha Bedingfield. Both got a standing ovation. Then Mr. Schuester told them to enjoy their vacation and join again next year.

The whole room went around, wishing each other a nice summer and happily left the school until only Kurt and Mercedes were left alone in the choir room. She reached for his arm and together they too left the choir room behind, Kurt knowing he wouldn't be back.


April 11th

Blaine

"What have you got there?" Blaine's mother asked, as she entered the dining room, ruffling her son's hair, as she went to put her empty mug in the dishwasher. He quickly tried to get it back in place, relieved when he felt the hair gel was still taming his unruly curls.

"It's just homework," Blaine told her. She came back from the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to see the math assignment he was working on.

"Wow. They sure didn't make homework this fancy, when I was in high school," she said with a chuckle. "You need any help?"

"From you?" he laughed, and she batted his shoulder playfully.

"Come on, I used to get A's when I was your age," she said with a smile.

"Keyword being 'used to'," he teased. "Mom, you always made me check the receipt, and I haven't been grocery shopping with you for years, which means, when I was like 12 I was better at math than you."

"I used those receipts as training for you! Not because I'm bad at math," she defended, but they both knew he was right. No way would she be able to help him with his homework.

"I could use the help though. I'm so confused by this trigonometry," he sighed. His mom then went silent, and when he looked at her, she seemed to be deep in thought. "What are you thinking?"

"It's nothing," she said, but her voice was far less cheery.

"Just tell me."

"Fine. If you need help, your dad is upstairs reading," she said. Blaine's face fell too.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled to the table. She sighed and left him to his homework. Blaine got back in his seat, picked up a ruler and went back to drawing sketches of triangles. After a while he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He automatically stiffened his back to look less sloppy. God, why did his father have that effect on him?

"Hey, Blaine," his father said with a smile, making the same trip as his mother, by going into the kitchen and then the dining room, while waiting for the water to start boiling in the pot.

"Hey, dad," Blaine said, not looking up from his assignment. There was some awkward silence, where Blaine was trying to concentrate on his homework, while his dad was staring at him from the door frame. He then cleared his throat.

"Your mom said you could use some help with math?" Blaine stiffened in his seat. Why had she actually gone and asked his father? He turned around in his seat, but his dad had returned to the kitchen to make his coffee.

"It's trigonometry. Which I'm really bad at," he said, when his father returned in the doorway with a mug in his hand. Blaine watched him come over to look at the assignment, like his mother had done, but his dad's posture told him it took him a lot to not jerk away from his son.

"How far are you?" To Blaine's surprise his father pulled out a chair and sat down. Not right next to him, but at the head of the table. Blaine pushed his assignment in the space between them pointing towards one of the questions. His father read the previous questions before looking at Blaine's answers. "Eh- you shouldn't have used sine here. It's practically begging for a cosine."

Blaine pulled the assignment towards himself and started erasing everything he'd written.

"No, no, no," his father objected and sounded almost humored, as he took the eraser from his son. "This part is correct. You just have to switch the formula. See? Actually I really like your phrasing of question four." Blaine looked into his father's eyes. When had he last complemented him? His father offered him a wry smile. "Your handwriting's gotten pretty good too," he said softly.

"Thank you," Blaine half whispered, as he looked at his father in chock.

"Okay, if you write the cosine formula, you can just type it into your calculator," his father said, taking a sip from his coffee, putting it down right next to Blaine's math book. Blaine did as told and earned himself a smile from his father, when he did it correctly. "Now which one should you use in question seven?"

"Tangent?" Blaine guessed with a shrug.

"Yes, but why should you use tangent?" They continued going through Blaine's homework, and slowly he forgot that it wasn't normal for his father to sit down and just talk to him. Even though it was prompted by his mother, he felt, his father had changed if just a little bit for the better. And though he was happy about a change like that, he couldn't help but wonder from where it originated.

They finished a little after Blaine's mom had started preparing dinner. Blaine thanked his father for his help and went to bag his things.

"You see, Blaine, you only have to work a little to get it right," his father said, leaving the table, looking satisfied, but Blaine's good mood disappeared as soon, as the words had left the man's lips.


Songs used:

Written in the stars - Tinie Tempah

Fireflies - Owl City

My Favorite Things - The Sound of Music (Julie Andrews)

Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield


last edited 07.01.13