I really needed to write this chapter. I was in a school play and it could only be summed up in one word: FAIL! So I needed something that made me happy, not necessarily well-written.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Previously on Gleephobia: Auditions were a success and all of the students were allowed to join New Directions! Now they can really dig down and figure out Kurt's deepest, darkest secrets, right? … R-Right?


A week and a half had passed since the faithful day that the glee club had more than four members. Kurt was right; Andrew had returned as soon as he learned singing was accepted. They were aiming for Sectionals, and aiming high. The set list was coming together and was just about done.

Neither Kurt nor Blaine were working on it now, however.

Blaine could feel the reactions to each individual kiss he planted on the boy's lips. The boy was warm, soft. He didn't want this to end and moved lower to give the boy's neck some attention. He could hear the gasps, the moans, the need for more. Were they from him or...? Their lustful noises started to blend together. It did unspeakable things to him.

He knew that something was off, but it felt too good to worry about. Their hands traveled up and down one another's body, wrinkling clothes and ruffling hair. Their love—lust—want—imprinting itself on the piano. He felt as though he might explode if he didn't express to the boy just how much he loved him. It was quite difficult, as no matter what he didn't he didn't feel as if he expressed it thoroughly enough.

Kurt was somewhere else.

He guided the brush down the wall once more. It was one of the few things he didn't count subconsciously. The walls needed to be just the right shade of gunmetal black. His brush consisted of only fifty-five hairs. It took a while to paint the room—let alone give it texture—but he was about a third done with it. He preferred quality over quantity.

His watch beeped five times in alarm. He put the brush into the water and carefully replaced the cover on the paint can. He walked out the open door; there were no lights to turn off. He walked purposefully into the kitchen and over to the stove.

Beep beep! Beep beep! Beep beep!

His hand slammed onto the alarm clock that kept blinking 5:30. Blaine yawned and stretched, sitting up and scratching his messy hair. That was weird. It was the most vivid dream (or was it a memory? He couldn't even tell) he'd ever had. He could swear, if he had been asleep for ten more minutes, he would've breached the line between making out and... that. Thank God for alarm clocks.

However, there was the growing issue of unrest down south, so Blaine figured he could stand to sit in bed for a minute longer.

Kurt's Lemon-Raspberry Muffins came out nicely, as always. It wasn't the healthiest of breakfasts, but he simply felt like today would be a special day. No reason, it was just special.

He removed the ten (yeah, like he'd make a dozen!) muffins from the pan and organized them onto five plates with two each. He began to scrutinize each one. One was too brown, two were odd-shaped. Kurt was about to throw two more away to make it even, but Blaine came in and swiped them before he could.

"There are children starving in Africa!" he teased. He set the plate down at the table and proceeded to wash his hands.

Kurt rolled his eyes. Two little muffins wouldn't make a difference. "Alright, but keep in mind that you have to eat four and a half muffins now, instead of two and a half." Blaine could eat whatever number he wanted. Kurt just had to have his two and a half. And yes, it had to be a half.

To outsiders, it looked like an unlikely morning. Sexual dreams? Painting before dawn? Ten muffins? But everything was merely a piece to a broken puzzle. Blaine had never had a dream like that before in his life, and was writing it off as teenage hormones; it would've worked better if he was actually a teenager. Kurt had a deadline with that room; if he didn't meet it, he would break down even worse for failing. And yes, ten muffins. Ten very special muffins.

Not every muffin would come out perfect, thus at least five would be thrown away to make it even. This leaves five to eat, the key number. It also left Kurt happy and Blaine fed, which is all that matters in the end.

They left for the school twenty-five minutes before it started. They arrive in fifteen minutes and went into their respective classrooms. Nine minutes later, their students decided to come to class.


Jason was rather proud of himself.

It was lunchtime in the bustling cafeteria and he had politely (yes, politely!) asked the other glee members to eat with him. Not only that, but he had produced a notebook that held his own detailed plan of Operation Hummel. He had spent the last week working on it. Julia was flipping through it now with Andrew next to her, looking over her shoulder.

"When you guys told me your plan, I thought it kind of sucked," Jason told them. Alex winced. They had kind of made it up on the spot. It involved a lot of plain out asking, with dashes of singing meaningful songs. "So I made up a new one."

"Wow, Jason," the Cheerio flipped another page. "This is... uh..."

"Good, right?" Jason preened. "I know."

"Well, Jason. Erm, how do I put this? It sucks giant horse gongs," she said bluntly. Andrew nodded in agreement. Alex, who was sitting on Julia's other side, spit out her milk in a spit-take that Miles wished he could've caught on camera. Kyle got blasted with a majority of the liquid; Mira fell forward, nearly into her pasta, laughing while many of the others followed suit. Jason's face fell.

"Look, Jay," Andrew tried to set him down easy after Julia dropped him like a rock. "I don't understand any of it. Like"—Julia flipped to a page—"that! Why is this stick figure bedazzled?"

"That stands for Hummel!"

"Why are his limbs being violently ripped from his body Attila the Hun style?" At Andrew's words, Alex would've had another spit-take if the milk didn't come out of her nose.

"Oh, that!" Jason quickly grabbed the notebook. Miles was handing Alex some napkins. "I got bored. The plan actually stops after page three." He slid the notebook back to them.

"Alright." Julia read over it slowly. "I still don't understand."

"Whatdafuck?" Jason cursed. "It's obvious. We follow him home, stake out the place, send him notes with various cruel messages to see how he reacts, and tape him and Anderson getting it on."

Alex had run out of milk, but she started choking on her lasagna instead. Miles gave her a few slaps on the back to dislodge it from her throat. When she could speak, she did.

"W-What are you talking about? Taping him and Mr. Anderson doesn't have anything to do with it! And we d-don't even know that either of them are g-gay." Everyone at the table gave her a very duhhhh expression. "O-Okay, Monsieur Hummel might be, but w-we don't know very much about Mr. Anderson! Like, w-why does he always carry around a clipboard?"

"Probably to draw dirty pictures," Jason smirked. "We should steal it."

"Well! I... uh," Julia turned the page, attempting to draw the conversation away from theft. "Well... I might've been able to understand it better if you put it into words, not stick-figure comics." The others pulled the notebook away from her to look it. They snorted and gaffed.

"Fuck you," he muttered. "It's a good plan."

"Maybe next time, Jason," Ashley smiled. "I think stealing the clipboard would be more realistic than twelve of us following Hummel home. That guy has a built-in radar."

The shrill sound of the bell sent them all sprawling for the trashcans and nearly running to class with the mass of other students.


"If you forget your lunch one more time, I will tape it to your clothes," Kurt joked.

"You watch, it'd be the day that I forget to change out of my pajamas," Blaine laughed. Will ran through the set list once more.

"I think we've got this down. Pushing original songs would've been too much pressure, especially for Sectionals. This is perfect," he summarized. The best part of it was that the next practice could be milked for every second, instead of spending time figuring out the final touches.

"It should be perfect. All the songs are in the range of the chosen soloists," Kurt said, using logic. Will had expected Blaine to say something like that. And by the look on his face, Blaine did, too.

They looked up as the bell rang. They bid William goodbye and went to Blaine's room—Kurt didn't have a class that block.

Kurt grabbed and chair and dragged it so it sat right next to the door. He settled into it and pulled his journal from his pocket along with his pen. The students filed in and were conveniently Binked as Kurt continued to get settled. Just as he became satisfied, the tarty bell rang. The door was still propped open.

Mr. Anderson started class with a grammar warm-up, like always. His students either aced or failed, with very few in between. It was silent for the first ten minutes. Kurt wrote fluently in his journal. Not diary.

Hello, old friend.

I feel like you know me more than anyone else. In a way, I guess you do. Not much has happened recently. Glee is going into Sectionals very soon and the students are excited. I've been able to successfully hold back on Binking someone for nearly two minutes. Blaine still forgets to make his lunch and even forgets to grab it when I leave it in plain sight on the kitchen table. Everything's in a beautiful sort of calm. It's familiar. It's... schedule.

It's also sad. Life can't go on so nicely forever. Something is bound to happen. A "calm before the storm" sort of deal. It hurts to know that something is going to happen, yet you're powerless against it. I get this feeling it has to do with that Jason kid. He just changed his schedule recently; he's in this class right here... right now.

I swear, people like him are the reason people like me need medication.


Kurt returned to his classroom just before the bell rang. That way, he avoided the crowded halls. He tucked his diary—journal—in front drawer of his desk. He met up with Blaine and they walked to glee club with light hearts.

"Guys! This is it!" Mr. Schuester was smiling. "We will start practicing now. We're running low on time. To the April Rhodes Civic Pavilion!"

The students stood and filed out, the three teachers hanging behind. Will turned to the two of them, but Kurt already knew what he was going to say.

"It's fine. There would be a lot of in-and-out, anyway. It's not like I enjoy poking people."

Will smiled sadly. He turned to Blaine, who just facepalmed.

"Mr. Schue, this is the third time I've tried to explain this," he said slowly. Kurt had to turn away so he wouldn't be seen smiling and shaking with laughter. "I physically cannot leave Kurt's side. Seriously. That's not a metaphor. It's literal. Fifty feet, Mr. Schue. The distance from here to the Auditorium is more than fifty feet, I assure you."

Will's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the outburst. "I was going to ask where your clipboard was."

"Uh..." Blaine started patting himself down. Kurt quirked his eyebrow. "It's right... uh... in my room, maybe? I thought I had it..."

"Your senility used to be cute, but now it's scaring me. Where is your clipboard?" Kurt asked seriously. That clipboard was important. Beyond important. What had Blaine written recently? What if a student got a hold of it? What if Jason got a hold of it?

"My room... it has to be," Blaine said, more to himself than anyone else. He took off to his classroom, Kurt right on his heels. The frantic English teacher unlocked his door and turned on the lights.

On his desk sat the clipboard.

Both of them breathed a sigh of relief. Blaine grabbed it as Kurt fought to stay standing.

"Let's... just go home now," Kurt pleaded. "I think one almost-heart attack is enough for one day."


Kurt was humming the tune to one of his favorite Broadway songs. Of course, nearly all the songs on Broadway were one of his favorites. But I'll Cover You always pulled at his heartstrings, especially when he thought of Angel's fate. Would his be the same? He doubted it... his would probably be more like April's, who slit her wrists in the bathroom.

A boy could dream, right?

He finished the wall, finally. He put the paintbrush into the can and sighed. Now he only had one more full wall, and then the wall with the door. Then he could finally start texture and details. He was actually making pretty good time. He thought for sure he'd be behind schedule.

"Kurt?"

He turned when his name drifted through the open door. "Yeah, Blaine?"

"... All the water in that pot you told me to watch evaporated."

Kurt merely smiled. Only Blaine could burn water.


I have so burned water before. I felt stupid.

In a few chapters (two or three, I think) someone from the past is going to make an appearance! Woooooo! But who? And where? WHY?

Quick question for all of you (it's not related to the above... I swear...): Who is your favorite girl on Glee? Not doing Rachel, so forget her. But any other glee club girl is game. Let me know... or else I'll use, uh, errr... Yeah. Just let me know!