Ctrl-A-Delete, a Glee fiction
I do not own Glee. To my reviewers, should I continue Sober, or leave it as a oneshot?
Dear Kurt,
Before I transferred to Dalton, I watched Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide. Now you may think that I'm a total weirdo for admitting this, but it was comforting knowing that I wasn't the only one with problems. Even as I've grown older, I've gone back to Ned for advice. Not the advice I've been giving you. They never addressed being gay. Not that they would. It was a kids show and the main characters always get together in kid shows. Cookie was not Ned's type. So therefore he had to choose Moze. And therefore there was no need for an episode for gays.
When I was back at my old school I tried to use my teachers as a bully free zone. Load of luck that was. When I came to Dalton, I didn't need the tips anymore. And then you showed up. And suddenly I found my self reading over Ned's tips once again.
'If your crush doesn't like you remember you could still be friends.' Sitting next to you at that Breadsticks table talking about anything and everything I realized that I liked you. I knew you were gay, but I didn't think you liked me like that. So I was your friend. Your BEST friend. MALE best friend, that is. Mercedes is obviously you best friend.
'Control jealousy; don't let it control you.' On the stairs of McKinley after we confronted Karofsky I wanted to kiss you. I turned towards you, but then chickened out. I was jealous that Karofsky stole your first kiss. I hadn't known you that long, but I knew that I wanted to kiss you. Blame it on the hormones. Instead I controlled myself and asked you out for lunch. I didn't call it a date. You weren't ready.
'Remember that relationships rarely last forever.' I don't like this one. I think if you find the right person it can definitely last. If I die first, you better believe my spirit is coming back to haunt you. If you die first I'll probably die shortly after. Not from suicide. Of a broken heart.
Let's hope for both of our sakes that Ned was wrong about that last one, okay?
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
A wise woman, who we shall call Nana (because if I use her real name she will smack me upside my head) told me something the other day. I had been deciding what to wear for our Disney marathon and she came into my room to find me knee deep in the contents of my closet.
"It doesn't matter what you wear, it's how you wear it."I plucked a clean shirt from the top and pulled it over my head. Then I followed her down to breakfast. For some people like you, style is very important. But Kurt, you could be wearing my old steamboat Mickey t-shirt and still pull it off. It's the way the clothes hug your curves. I wish I could hug your curves like that.
Over breakfast, I was trying to text you. But I couldn't think of what to say. Nana was getting frustrated with the way I'd pick up the phone and set it back down. "It's not what you say, it's how you say it." So rather than try and be witty, I pinned a little smiley face to the end of the message. Which ultimately became a real smile on my end, causing Nana to scold me for smiling with my mouth open. I caught her humming as she scrubbed the dishes. Point proven.
As I was daydreaming at the counter, Nana cleared her throat. I was thinking she was going to tell me another one of her 'It's not what, it's how' speeches. I was pleasantly surprised.
"It's not how you dream, it's what you dream." It didn't matter if I was in bed, snuggling against a teddy bear or daydreaming at the counter. It mattered what I was daydreaming about.
I was dreaming about us.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
Ever notice how in movies the weather always matches the mood of the story? If a character is in love, the sun shines. It doesn't rain at all, yet the lawns are still that perfect green and the flowers are blooming like normal. Then there's the dramatic scene where the clouds mock the teary eyed actor and cry their own hearts out. It rains and pours. Funny how the weather patterns changed like that, huh? And when the lovers run towards each other in the rain, which has been pouring for quite some time, neither of them slip and fall. The earth is covered with water, and we don't get even one squeaky boot? Kissing in the rain does seem fun though. We should try it some time.
And in the movies, why does the bad guy always die? Either that or they are cast off and put in jail. Then some big movie producer thinks that because they hit big in the box office that it's a good idea to create a sequel. In the sequel the bad guy magically returns and the hero has to kill him off for good this time. They always have really lame henchmen too. No why can't Karofsky and his henchmen learn from example and go away?
I think it'd be really cool if music started playing in the background of my life. Like when I'm upset they could play some dreary song to match my emotions. And when I kiss you, they can play some power ballad where the moment our lips touch the big note of the song explodes.
I'll get Wes right on that.
New email from Kurt. Read.
Dear Kurt,
Wise choice. Make sure that you don't put any onions on that salad. I do not want to have stanky onion breath when I kiss you. The way I see it, you'll have pizza cheese stuck to your lip and I'll lean in to wipe it off. Things will lead to other things and the Warblers will settle their bets. Do you know how awkward it was to find a betting receipt in David's backpack when I borrowed his math notebook? (I had doodled a little too much in class that day.) He doesn't know that I know.
I should've gotten a raincheck when we couldn't kiss in the dressing room. At the time I was more concerned about getting out of there before that lady came back. But dressing room kisses aren't romantic anyways. They involve itchy tags and small spaces. Neither of which I'm too fond of.
Message has been sent.
Ctrl-Z
Ctrl-Z!
Ctrl-Z?
Dear Kurt,
I really should not let Karlie near the send button. Please ignore that last email.
Franticly pacing the floor,
Backspace
I guess I'll hang my close on this line,
Backspace
Shine on, you crazy diamond,
Blaine
(P.S. Karlie told me to tell you she says hi, but since I'm angry at her, I'm not going to. Drat, I just did, huh?)