Ugh, I'm sorry! I just got the last batch of writing back from my beta yesterday and didn't have a chance to post it until today. But! I have the chapter after this one ready to go, so I'll be posting again either tomorrow or Thursday. :) The next few chapters are longer because some pretty exciting stuff starts to happen. :D Thank you to everyone reading! I'm glad you're still enjoying it and I'm pleasantly suprised by how many people seem to like Regan. :D I may be biased, but I think Regan is a sweetheart, so I'm happy that you all seem to like him.

I received an anonymous review that I'd like to address specifically: The reviewer complimented me and I'd like to say thank you for the lovely comments. Also, it was suggested to me that I try to keep my story under twenty chapters so as to not lose laconic nature of my writing. I appreciate the comment, but I'd just like to say now that I am not sure how long this story will be. I'm not anticipating more than twenty-five chapters or so (I've written the first sixteen thus far.), but I'm going to write as much as I feel is necessary to say everything that I and the characters need to say. Hopefully it will not seem drawn out, but I'm willing to draw out my story/plot in order to be satisfied with my ending. I just hope you all will still be along for the ride. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or anything else you may recognize.

And a big thank you to my beta, lextempus!

Quinn clutches too tightly at Mercedes' hand where she laboriously streaks golden color onto fingernails. Her voice barely louder than the summer rain pattering against the window, she half-heartedly complains about school in Chicago and the mandatory anatomy classes for her nursing major. Apparently, if Sam suggestively offers one more time that he'll help her study, she'll return him to the sci-fi convention he first came from.

Kurt and Mercedes exchange knowing glances across the room as they listen to Quinn's weeks old song and dance. Their looks do not go unnoticed by Quinn who purses her pink lips momentarily before flipping her hair over her shoulder imperiously and averting the attention by asking Kurt how he's enjoying being a theatre major.

Blue and brown bore into him as the girls wait for his response, their gazes showing excitement and concern in equal measure.

Kurt finds himself half-avoiding the direct and implied questions and answers with the simple, honest truth, "I'll always love performing."

One thing Kurt is quick to realize, Regan doesn't speak in metaphors. Everything he says and everything he means are worded simply and effortlessly, like the phrases were made for Kurt to hear.

Regan's face appears on Kurt's laptop, his eyes bright with conversation as they share their summer stories. The pixels blur together as Regan's hands flutter around the sides of his face in rapid conversation, and Kurt fixates on the quick flicks of his wrist, the thick dusting of hair on his forearms. Sometimes Regan leans forward to the camera to comment on Kurt's blush and Kurt finds himself staring at the rounded edge of his shirt paired with the sharp cut of his collarbone.

Regan tells him, without reserve, that he's beautiful. He tells him he's witty and charming and sneaky and all the other adjectives Kurt's always said about himself, but they sound better from another person. Regan tells him he cares.

There's no challenge, no confusion, no translation needed. So different from –

no, he's done with that.

Kurt falls into a practiced sort of ease, catching the nuances in Regan's words and letting the simple phrases wash over him.

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