Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Anything But Ordinary.

Note: Almost…done…three full chapters after this, guys! I have nothing else to really say here. Except that this is almost over. And I would like you guys to review.

Sometimes I get so weird
I even freak myself out
I laugh myself to sleep
It's my lullaby

"Hey, Kurt," Rachel said softly. "How are you doing?"

Kurt shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Did you see that documentary on Judy Garland last night?"

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "It was fascinating, wasn't it? And to think, she got her big break when she was seventeen!"

"Who knows? Maybe you'll be Broadway-bound soon," Kurt joked.

"I hope so. Would you…come out to New York with me?" Rachel asked slowly.

Kurt's eyes lit up. "You mean that? New York?"

"Of course," she nodded. "I mean, I figure if I'm going to be the next Fanny Brice in Funny Girl, you might as well be the next Fieyro in Wicked."

Kurt gave her a small smile. "I'd rather be Elphaba. But…I won't dispute that it wouldn't be fun."

"Maybe we could share an apartment!" Rachel exclaimed. "Just you and me, in the Big Apple!"

Kurt frowned. "But what about Puck? And I thought you were still in love with Finn?"

"They can come with us," Rachel said. "Come on, Kurt. Think about it!"

Sometimes I drive so fast
Just to feel the danger
I wanna scream
It makes me feel alive

"Hmmmm," Kurt considered her words. "New York…"

"Concrete jungle where dreams are made of," Rachel sang, teasing him.

"There's nothing you can't do," he replied, a smile playing across his face. "I never thought I'd say it, Rachel, but…you're right. I'd love to break into 'the biz'."

"You'd be amazing on Broadway," Rachel hugged him, ruffling his hair a little.

"So would you," he said honestly. "Your voice is amazing, Rach. I never say it, because usually you just annoy the snot out of me, but you give Ms. Streisand a run for her money."

Rachel flushed with pride. "Thanks, Kurt. Your voice is incredible, too. It's hard to find a countertenor, you know. Your range is…amazing…and you have real stage presence."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Kurt gave her a sly look.

"Because I love you, silly!" she tugged on his shirt.

"Sure, Rachel," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Love you, too."

"So what do you say? New York?"

Kurt smiled. "New York," he put his arm through hers, linking them together.

Is it enough to love?
Is it enough to breathe?
Somebody rip my heart out
And leave me here to bleed

"So…do you like being called Noah?" the therapist asked the Mohawk-clad boy.

"My friends call me Puck. Only my family really calls me Noah…oh, and my boyfriend," Puck added.

"Okay. Puck. So you have a boyfriend? What's he like?"

Puck leaned back against the couch. "His name's Kurt. Jesus, he's the most beautiful, amazing boy in the world. See, I used to pick on him all the time, but then I realized I only picked on him 'cause I liked him. We're in Glee club together. He's pretty much my polar opposite…you know, he's into musicals and fashion and that stuff…but he completes me. You know?

Dr. Phillips wrote on her pad of paper. "How long have you been together?"

"Four months," Puck said proudly. "It's my longest relationship yet. And it's my first with a boy. See, I had a baby with my best friend's girlfriend…we have her up for adoption, it's a long story…but I wasn't with her, even after they broke up."

"So you're a father?" Dr. Phillips looked at him in surprise.

"I guess, yeah," Puck shrugged. "I miss her—we named her Beth before we gave her up—but I'm not sure if I would've been the best father. I was a bit of a manwhore back before I fell for Kurt."

"Any reason for your promiscuous behavior?"

Puck shrugged again. "I guess I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn't gay. But I am, and I'm okay with that now."

"And your family's okay with it?"

"They're cool with it, yeah," Puck nodded. "Kurt's family is, too. I'm like, best friends with his stepbrother."

Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please

"So why have you come to see me, Puck?" Dr. Phillips asked, putting her pad down. The psychologist had short white hair and a grandmotherly aura about her. She looked over the tops of her wire-rimmed glasses, gazing intently at the teenage boy on her couch.

"Kurt…God, I don't even know if I should be telling you this, doc."

"Go ahead," she nodded. "There's a code of silence in my office."

"He's been getting harassed by this kid at our school for like…almost a year," Puck admitted. "And this kid…he raped Kurt a couple times. Kurt tried to kill himself, and ended up in the psych ward. He got out of there after a couple months, and I really saw the difference. He was happier again, smiling. At that point, we'd been together for like, a month. But this kid, he kept harassing Kurt. And Kurt…he can't be…physical with me, you know?"

"Physical, how?" Dr. Phillips asked gently.

"Like, I tried to kiss him the other night? Just a small kiss, right? And he totally freaked out and told me he couldn't be physical with me. I want to kiss him…maybe one day, in the future, have sex with him…but he won't let me do anything, and it makes me nervous. Like, what if he's never comfortable with that stuff, and it causes a real problem with our relationship?"

"Have you tried talking to him about it?"

Puck nodded. "I understand that's still, you know, traumatized over being raped and all, but…I don't know, I wish he was more open with his feelings."

To walk within the lines
Would make my life so boring
I want to know that I have been
To the extreme

Kurt strode down the hall, arm-in-arm with Rachel. "Can you believe what that girl was wearing today? I mean, honestly, she…" his breath hitched suddenly.

"What is it?" Rachel sidled closer to him.

"I have to go," he pulled away from her. "I'm so sorry, I just realized I have a date planned with Noah tonight! I have to get ready!"

"Kurt, it's only four," Rachel laughed.

"Yes, but it takes me a good hour to go through my beauty routine," Kurt smoothed his shirt. "It's been lovely talking to you, Barbra Berry, but I must go!"

"Okay, Kurt," she smiled. "Have a nice time. And don't forget; New York!"

"New York," he shook her hand warmly. He took off down the hall at a brisk walk.

"Tell Noah I said hi," she called after him.

"I will," he answered over his shoulder. He took out his phone and texted Puck.

Kurt: Might be running a couple minutes later. Got distracted talking to Rachel.

Puck: Rachel? LOL. It's okay, babe.

Kurt: See you soon, Noah.

Puck: See you, my love.

So knock me off my feet
Come on now, give it to me
Anything to make me feel alive

Kurt drove home, already thinking of what outfit to wear on their date that night. Once at home, he called out a quick hello to his family before dashing up to his room to paw through his closet. "No…that's last season…nope," he threw various clothes on the bed and the floor. "FINN!"

Finn came running in. "Dude, what's wrong?"

"I'm having a fashion emergency," Kurt wailed.

Finn let out a slow, long sigh. "I thought something had happened, Kurt!"

"I have a date in," Kurt checked his watch. "One hour, and I don't know what to wear!"

Finn rolled his eyes. "I don't think Puck really cares, bro."

"Ugh, you're no help," Kurt pushed him out the door. He whirled around, surveying the mess of fabrics. "Maybe this," he plucked a sheer black shirt out of the pile. "With this," he dug a pair of skinny jeans out of the back of the closet. "There," he laid the ensemble out. "But it needs an accessory…ah," he paired it with a soft grey scarf. "Perfect," he smiled. He quickly got dressed, taking care to look as nice as he could. To Kurt, fashion was almost as important as his voice. He slipped a tube of Chapstick in his pocket, in case he was bold enough to kiss Puck tonight. With one last spritz of hairspray to his bangs, he cleaned up the mess he'd made—carefully, so he wouldn't winkle his outfit—and ran down the stairs. "Going-on-a-date-with-Puck-I'll-be-back-by-eleven-love-you-bye!" he called out before heading out the door and to his car, hoping he wasn't late.

Is it enough to love?
Is it enough to breathe?
Somebody rip my heart out
And leave me here to bleed

"I wish you and Kurt all the luck," Dr. Phillips said to Puck. "And if you want to talk to me again…or even if, maybe, Kurt wants to come in and talk…here's my card."

"Thanks," Puck said. He looked down at his watch. "Ah, crap. Kurt and I have a date tonight, and I'm running late. He hates when I'm late."

Dr. Phillips chuckled softly. "Have a nice time."

"Will do," Puck jokingly saluted her, shoving her business card in his pocket, grabbing his coat and leaving the cozy office. He quickly headed out the door, vowing to make another appointment soon. Talking with someone actually helped him to feel better. It might not help Kurt, but it helps me, he thought. Puck would never admit it to anyone—after all, he had his bad-ass reputation to protect and uphold—but he was a softie at heart, and he didn't mind talking about his problems with a complete stranger, where he knew there was a code of silence that could not be broken. He felt as if a load had been taken off his chest as he jumped in his car and drove away. He knew he didn't have time to change before his date with Kurt, but where they were going, he didn't need a nice outfit, he thought. Fashion may be Kurt's thing, but it isn't mine, he laughed to himself.

Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please

Santana lay back, talking to Tallulah on the phone. "I'm just worried about him."

"Worried about whom?"

"Kurt," Santana sighed. "Did you know he tried to kill himself the other day?"

Tallulah gasped. "Oh, my God."

"He slit his wrist," Santana said softly. "I mean, they didn't tell his parents that, but Quinn—she's my friend, she found Kurt right after and she was the one that called 911—told me truth later. She found the razor in his hand, Tally. Oh, it was so bad."

"I'm so sorry," Tallulah murmured. "Is he okay, though?"

"He's better, yeah," Santana said. "Something about a dead sister and breaking up with Puck."

"He broke up with Puck?"

"Only for like, a day," Santana rolled her eyes. "But apparently, it was bad enough for a suicide attempt."

"I hope he gets better," Tallulah said. "From the bottom of my heart, I really do."

"Yeah. I do, too," Santana sighed. "I do, too."

Let down your defenses, use no common sense
If you look, you will see
That this world is a beautiful accident
Turbulent, succulent, opulent, permanent, no way
I wanna taste it, don't wanna waste it away

Santana hung up the phone and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. She was so afraid. Her relationship with Tallulah had been going great, it was true. They'd been together for three-and-a-half months. Even though Tallulah wouldn't come out to her family and school friends, she was an open book when it came to the Latina. She told Santana all of her secrets, her hopes, her fears, and her dreams. Tallulah knew when she was eighteen, they could get out of this town, that she didn't have to worry anymore. Tallulah was petrified that she would get kicked out of her house, like Santana had. Santana understood her concerns, and didn't press the issue any further. Still, she wished her girlfriend could be out and proud like she was starting to me, or that they, at least, went to the same school.

Sometimes I get so weird
I even freak myself out
I laugh myself to sleep
It's my lullaby

Kurt drove along, watching the scenery pass him by. He couldn't wait for the date they'd had planned that night. He'd been so stressed out lately between his relationship with Puck, school, and family life, that he needed a 'fun' date, one where he could just be a kid again. He needed to just let loose and run around, acting like a five-year-old and not giving a damn. He knew Puck wouldn't care if he acted like a child for a night, if he just wanted to regain his childlike innocence. He'd had that innocence stolen after his mother died, when the flames started taking over his body and soul.

Is it enough?
It is enough?
Is it enough to breathe?
Somebody rip my heart out
And leave me here to bleed

Kurt arrived at his destination: the park. He loved going to the park as a kid. He had many memories of playing there with friends and cousins as a child. The park was where his mother brought him nearly every day in the summer to run around. Kurt wasn't a big fan of the sandbox—too dirty—and he could do without the monkey bars and the jungle gym. Kurt liked to slide, but sliding sometimes messed up his clothes, and he had a bitter memory of splitting his lip from banging into a slide. But what Kurt had loved most of all about the park as a child was the swinging on the swings. He loved the feeling of flying, of being high above everything else. He loved the feeling of his stomach soaring and dropping as he flew back and forth. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly bold, he'd jump off, landing in the soft mulch below. It was his favorite place in the world, other than the mall.

Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please

Kurt parked his car, climbing out of it. He strode towards the playground with confidence. It took all of his strength not to just run towards the swings right then and there, to fly through the air again, something he hadn't done upwards of eight years. He tried to control himself, but ended up running to the old swingset anyway. It looked the same as it always did. The chains still creaked, the seats still squeaked, and the set still looked as if it could fall over at a moment's notice. Kurt sat down on his favorite swing, the one on the far left. He took a deep breath, backed up as far as he could, and let go. The feeling was indescribable as he soared, feeling the familiar feeling of his stomach swooping and his heart pounding. He pumped his legs, swinging back and forth, letting the wind blow through his hair and whistle in his ears. Finally, he slowed to a stop.

"Hey," a voice from behind him sounded. He turned around.

Is it enough?
Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please
I'd rather be anything but ordinary, please

To be continued…