Bob Philips likes his life. Or, at least, he used to.

Being the principal of William McKinley was a breeze. The basketball team won every game, the students never stepped out of line, and each day was pleasant. He would wake up every single morning, see the sun shining, and know that day would be just the same as the day before. An easy existence where his authority went unquestioned, unchallenged, unalterable. That was how he liked it.

Now, he is starting to feel the ease slip out of his life. For the first Monday since he started teaching, he walks to work with an unfamiliar heaviness in his stomach. He knows that today will involve a level of effort never previously required for teaching, and it fills him with dread.

His fears are confirmed as soon as the students start to arrive. Things are… changing.

The orange basketballs were one thing, but today he can see colour everywhere, in shoes, in hair, on nails, students laughing and joking and flirting, and it makes his blood boil. He starts doing something he's never had to do in twenty-five years as an educator.

That Puckerman boy is standing by his locker, not getting anything out of it, not walking to class, just waiting. Smiling. 'Young man, that's a detention.'

Puck freezes, looking around for someone to back him up. 'What? I didn't do anything.'

'You're loitering.'

'But – I don't even know where detention is!'

Philips hesitates. He's not sure either.

'I'll have a note sent to you this afternoon.'

Blaine and Kurt join the scene, holding hands. Although Philips appreciates that Blaine is one of the few students with enough respect to stay completely in black and white, this obnoxious display of affection hits him like a slap in the face.

'Sir, is that necessary? He really wasn't doing anything.'

'Oh, I'm sure you'd both like it if I overlooked the rules of this establishment, wouldn't you?'

When Philips glares down at the two joined hands, Kurt yanks his away nervously, but Blaine gently and calmly takes hold of it again.

'Mr Philips, with all due respect,' he was quickly starting to think the appropriate amount of respect was none at all, 'I don't think there are any rules against standing in the hall or me holding hands with my boyfriend.'

They all think he's about to start frothing at the mouth. They've never seen an adult's face twitch like that before.

'You will do as you're told! You don't make the rules here, young man, I do, and I say you're breaking them! You're all in detention after school!'

The whole corridor goes quiet. Dozens of students stare at the commotion unfolding.

Something in the principal's voice tells the boys it's not the time to argue. He looks at everyone menacingly. 'Anyone else want to join them?'

They all feel guilty about it, especially with all the talk yesterday of being braver and making changes, but they've never been in detention before, and that's not the kind of fun new experience they had in mind. Blaine glances around and shakes his head as if to say, 'stand down'. Out loud, he says, 'Detention. Fine. No problem. We'll be there.'

Philips regains his composure, straightening his tie. He gives the crowd one last stare before striding to his office.

Puck scowls at his back as he walks away, as if he can somehow make his head explode with sheer willpower. He hangs back to mutter to Kurt and Blaine, 'Ignore what that idiot says. I think it's cute when you two hold hands.' He gives Kurt's arm a quick pat before making his way to his next class. They both smile and squeeze their hands together a little tighter.

'Quick question,' Kurt says.

'Shoot.'

'How does detention work?'

They find out soon enough. Having spent most of lunchtime looking for it, they manage to turn up to the detention room on time. Philips spends the first 5 minutes giving them an intimidating speech about the importance of rules and respect, which leaves Blaine nonplussed, Kurt slightly rattled, and Puck having an existential crisis. Philips obviously has never had to oversee detention before – he doesn't set them lines to copy out or any other form of punishment, just leaves them to it, saying he'll be back at 4. It's a lot of trust to put in students he hates, but the thought that they could just walk out doesn't even occur to him. Blaine's furious that with so little time left with Kurt, he's spending it here – yes, they're together, but they're with the weirdest third wheel imaginable.

By 3:30, Kurt is resting his head on his hand, Blaine has his on his desk, and their hands dangle, linked together between them. Puck is onto his third conspiracy theory about how they ended up here.

'It's because he knows how much power we have, you and me. You know it's the three of us that are leading the charge with changing things. That's what he's scared of.'

Kurt still has enough patience left to give an 'Mm-hmm.' Blaine does not.

'Isn't it crazy, though? It's like, a couple of weeks ago, something around here changed, and it set a bunch of other stuff in motion. I could swear it all started with… with you, Blaine.'

Blaine lifts his head up. Has Puck landed on the truth on his whirlwind tour of eighty different wrong answers? He shrugs. 'I don't think it's about me. I mean, I'm still grey, so it can't be me.'

Puck narrows his eyes at both of them. Blaine can feel Kurt's hand getting clammy – something tells them it won't be good if everyone figures out the truth.

'Yeah, I think the town is just, you know, moving forward. Don't think about all of it too much, Puck, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, just enjoy it!' Kurt's voice is frantic, his eyes wide. Blaine strokes his finger with his thumb.

Puck's mouth opens slowly, pointing at Blaine, as he gets ready for some kind of big declaration.

'It's aliens!'

Their shoulders drop with relief.

'That sounds plausible,' Blaine says, nodding. Puck frowns in confusion again. 'I mean, it sounds like it could be the right answer. And you shouldn't try and think of any more.'

'I knew it. They're sending signals down from the moon and it's making everything here better.' He looks to the ceiling, fist over his heart. 'Thanks, fellas. I owe you one.'

The others smile for a moment, then remember where they are.

'I can't believe we're stuck here.'

'I told you before, nobody's watching us. We can just leave.'

Puck freezes. 'No. No, we can't just go, we'll be in even more trouble!'

Blaine can hardly believe what he's hearing, but then he feels Kurt's hand on the small of his back.

'He might just put us in here again tomorrow, and actually stick around to make sure we stay. Or worse, keep us in separate rooms.' Blaine sighs. Kurt is right. 'And if we make him mad, he'll probably keep a closer eye on us. It'll just make it harder to do what we want to do.'

Blaine smiles at him, 'You're so smart,' he says, leaning across to kiss his cheek, 'Fine. We'll stick it out.'

'I'm still so… I hate that guy! I was just standing there and he started yelling at me! It's not fair!'

This feels like it might be going somewhere more productive than the aliens theory. Blaine sits up. 'You're right, Puck. Keep going.'

'He can't do that to us! He's just scared that we're happier, that he might not be able to control us all! He doesn't even know about everyone else, trying to figure out right now how they can grow and change, and soon we'll all be way too strong and too angry for him to stop us!'

Kurt puts a hand on Puck's knee. 'Are you okay?'

Puck's eyes, suddenly light brown, flash back at him. He doesn't look as clueless as usual – he seems alive and awake. A smile is growing on his face.

'Yeah, I'm… I'm good. I'm out of here. He can throw me back in every day for all I care. I'm not just going to sit here and let that guy control me.' Blaine glances at the clock. There's only ten minutes left. He knows that for him and Kurt it isn't worth the risk of walking out now, but misbehaving is Puck's calling. And it could keep the momentum going across the town. He grabs his things and walks to the door, stopping and turning back once he gets there. He points at Kurt and Blaine in turn. 'And you two. Don't let anybody tell you not to hold hands. You both have those big smiles when you do it, and it's nice, and it shows the rest of us that anything is possible. You got that?'

They smile at each other, then at him.

'Got it,' Kurt says. Puck gives a final, determined nod and leaves. 'Should we really be encouraging that? Won't he get into trouble?'

Blaine tilts his head. 'From what I know about him, he kind of thrives off trouble. It makes him more creative. I think that's what the leather jacket thing was about yesterday.'

Kurt wrinkles his nose incredulously. 'Noah Puckerman? The boy who almost cried when he found out it was okay to hug his friends? A tough guy?' He breathes in deeply, eyebrows raised. 'If you say so.' Blaine laughs. This version of Puck is definitely a little different, but the way his face lit up at the idea of causing chaos was pretty familiar.

'We can go too if you want.'

Kurt shakes his head. 'No.'

'Okay. I totally understand why you want to play it safe.'

Kurt sits up straighter and looks out of the window for a moment at the cloudless grey sky. He looks back to Blaine and shakes his head. There's a resolve on his face that Blaine hasn't seen before.

'No.'

Blaine frowns. 'No what?'

'No, I don't want to play it safe. Last night we told everybody to be brave, to do what felt right even if it might get them in trouble. And now I'm afraid of getting in trouble myself? No. We can't let everybody else be brave for us.'

'So you want to lead by example?'

'I don't want to follow rules that are wrong. That he made up so he could make us do what he wanted. We're not leaving. But we're not doing what he says, either. When he gets back here, he's going to see that he can't stop us.'

Blaine stares at him in admiration, a warm smile creeping onto his face. 'You're incredible, Kurt. I…' he almost doesn't say it, but if Kurt can be brave, so can he. 'I love you.' The hard determination in Kurt's face softens immediately into a shy smile. That flush of pink comes to his cheeks, only for a moment. He starts to lean in towards Blaine, whose head spins and pulse races, but the touch he braces himself for never comes. Eyes closed, he feels Kurt's forehead press against his. As lovely as it is, his heart sinks. He really thought that was going to be the moment.

'I love you too.'

Okay, the thudding in his chest doesn't stop completely.

They both look down for a moment, wondering if anything else has changed colour. This feels just as powerful as the books, the jacket, the park, if not more. They're not exactly disappointed that nothing has changed, but it's a surprise. They look at each other questioningly, both shrugging when they have no idea why there's no new colour.

A throat clears in the doorway. The boys flinch apart and jump to their feet. Then they remember that however nervous this guy makes them, they're not letting him win. Without breaking eye contact with Mr Philips, Kurt grabs Blaine's hand. Blaine has to ball his free hand into a fist, the feeling of nails in his palm stopping him from laughing. Kurt's defiance is somehow funny and hot at the same time.

He has to ignore the little voice in his head telling him that the best way to show Philips that they're unstoppable would be to kiss Kurt, right here, right now – if Kurt wanted to, he would've done it.

Mr Philips's face is like granite. 'So, it appears you two haven't learned your lesson.'

'Yeah. Isn't that strange?' Kurt asks, the picture of innocence, hand still firmly holding onto Blaine's.

'Where's Puckerman?'

They shrug.

'Could be anywhere by now,' Blaine says, 'he left ten minutes ago.'

'What happens now, sir? Should we come back here tomorrow? And the day after? That might help us learn somehow.'

For a moment, the stony façade falters. There's a flash of boiling anger, and Blaine could swear he even sees a little tinge of red in his cheeks, before the cold exterior returns.

'Detention every day seems like a good place to start. Same time tomorrow, gentlemen. Now, get out of my sight.'

They pick up their bags somewhat awkwardly, since they refuse to unlink their hands, and Kurt leads them out with bold strides. Blaine grins at Mr Philips, giving him a little wave as he calls out 'See you tomorrow, sir, have a swell evening!'

They run down the hall and out of the school, stopping, breathless and sniggering, on the grass outside.

'That was… that was amazing, Kurt. Did you see how mad he got?'

Catching his breath, Kurt looks into Blaine's eyes. 'Just to be clear – I wanted to. In there. I really wanted to.' It takes Blaine a second to piece together what he means, then it clicks.

'Oh. Oh, Kurt, you know I don't mind. Whenever you're ready.'

'I wanted to really show him how real we are, and then I realised how riled up I was about him, and that's not what I want to be thinking about when it happens. When we… you know.'

Blaine steps closer to Kurt, whose arms automatically find his waist. 'You're right. When it happens, I want it be because of us. Nothing else.'

'Me too.'

Blaine puts his arms around Kurt's neck and smiles up at him. 'And if you can't say the word kissing, maybe you're not ready yet.'

Kurt squirms a little, smiling sheepishly. 'I can say,' he has to look down at Blaine's bowtie instead of his face, '… kissing. And if you make fun of me, you'll never get to do it.'

Blaine immediately holds both hands up in surrender. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I take back every word. I'll never tease you again.'

Two tiny bluebirds land on the grass next to them. Kurt gasps, and Blaine, as usual, smiles watching him. 'Do you think that was us?'

'Well, I don't think it was Puck.'

They stand still for a moment, holding each other while watching the birds hop about together. This does feel bigger than colourful clothes. Blaine feels it's almost biblical – Let there be bluebirds. It's a moment so small yet so profound, nature itself changing because of two boys in love. They both need to get home, as they're already so late leaving school. When they hug goodbye, complete with kisses on cheeks, it's that little bit harder than usual to let go.

There's a new buzz at home when Blaine arrives.

Dad is home, which he usually wouldn't be for a while. He's at the table, with Mom and Santana, the three of them all poring over papers. Great, Blaine thinks, he's back to reading the newspaper instead of being part of the family, but then he gets a closer look.

Mom and Santana's paper is a form, filled out with Mom's details. And Dad –

'What's going on in here?'

'Sweetheart, I'm applying for a job! Your sister's helping me, seeing as she knows more about being a career girl than I do!'

Santana tries to hide it, but she's swelling with pride.

'Hey, you did most of it without me. Okay, just the last question to go. Why do you want this position?'

Mom frowns. 'Well, I don't know. It's just secretarial work, because I'm not qualified for much else-'

Blaine sits next to her. 'So maybe don't answer for this specific job. Explain why you want to start going to work.'

She looks at her children, at her husband, and brushes hair back from Santana's face before she starts writing, reading her answer aloud as she does so. 'I want to make my family proud.'

Blaine and Santana hug her from either side, making it clear how proud they are of her every day, while Dad, tongue sticking out, keeps working on his project.

'There. Oh, goodness, this is terrible.' It's a painting. When Blaine asks what gave him the idea, he tells him he had spent all morning at work, bored out of his mind, staring at the craft store across the street. At lunch, he just walked right out of the office, bought a set of paints, and marched straight home. He had decided that spending the day with his wife, attempting to put his love for her on paper, seemed like a far better use of his time. Now, he looks down at his work, the grey figure with green dots on what are presumably her ears, and he bursts out laughing at how bad it is. The others look up, and no matter how hard they try, they just can't force themselves to take it seriously. It really is atrocious. But when Dad finally looks up, away from the painting, at his wife, he says, 'Oh, my. It's worse than I thought. This is all wrong. I have to start over.'

'Sorry for laughing, Dad – maybe there's still some way to salvage it?'

Blaine adds 'Yeah, don't beat yourself up. It takes a while to get good at this kind of thing.'

He stares at each of his children in turn.

'No. I'm not being hard on myself. Look at the painting.' They do, managing to stifle their laughter this time. 'Now look at your mother.'

Santana claps her hand over her mouth, and Blaine almost knocks over Dad's water jar.

'What?' Mom asks. Santana puts an arm around her shoulders and takes her hand, helping her out of her seat so she can see the mirror on the wall. She sees a beautiful woman, in full colour, light blue dress, bright green eyes, and a full red smile. 'Oh, my goodness!' She brings her hand up to her face for a moment, her smile lost. She turns to her husband. 'Darling, I'm sorry. I can cover it up if you want.'

He stands next to her, taking both of her hands and looking her dead in the eyes. 'Don't even think about it.' He kisses her, and when he turns to the mirror, he sees that he matches his wife. His hair is a little greyer, his suit a slightly darker blue, but their smiles are the same. She gasps and throws her arms around him, while Blaine puts his hand over Santana's.

Obviously, they're thrilled for Mom and Dad and the transformation in them; they're two entirely different people compared to two weeks ago. But with even their parents moving forward faster than them, along with everyone else in this town, they're starting to feel more like outsiders than when they got here.

'Oh, and Blaine,' Mom says, turning to him, 'we need to talk about this afternoon. I assumed you were just with Kurt, but your sister informed me that you were put in detention today.' Blaine's hands start to sweat. The thought of letting his parents down hurts as much here as it did back home. 'I have to say, this is very disappointing.'

'Mom, I'm so sorry, it's just that-'

Mom looks shocked and takes his face in both of her hands.

'Oh, no, my darling, I could never be disappointed in you. It's that awful man who has the nerve to call himself an educator. I can't believe he would dare to hold you back after school just for holding hands with that lovely boyfriend of yours!'

He heaves out a sigh of relief. 'Oh. Thanks, Mom.'

'I'm going into school tomorrow, first thing, to give that man a piece of my mind.'

'That's right son,' Dad adds, 'he's not treating you like this and getting away with it.'

Blaine and Santana share a look. She nods, giving him freedom to handle this however he thinks is best.

'Actually, I have a better idea. Mom, are you seeing any of your friends soon?'

Not much surprises him here anymore. But just as he's gotten used to the idea of being involved in a revolution, he now realises it's going to involve his mother's weekly bridge game. There's still some shock left.

Tuesday's detention session is significantly busier than yesterday's. Tina and Mike are there thanks to a peck on the cheek in the hallway. Finn is apparently in for showing an inappropriate amount of affection – meaning he's hugged most of his classmates before lunchtime and Philips thinks it's weird. Brittany and Santana get thrown in for laughing too loudly, but Santana can see Philips' anger spark when he spots Brittany's blonde hair and peachy freckles. It's made Brittany want to hide all day, especially as so far she's still the only student fully in colour.

It brings the mood down all day. It's as if he's managed to hang a dark cloud over the whole school – figuratively, at least, as it's still perpetually sunny. Despite everyone's excitement before about shaking things up, it's hard for them not to be put off – the only emotion these kids have ever experienced before is a vague, blank happiness. Being yelled at by a mean, tall man is more than enough to intimidate and upset them. Blaine and Santana can only watch throughout their classes as everyone recedes back into their shells for fear of getting into trouble.

The dozen or so students in detention sit quietly at first. They know that they haven't really done anything wrong, but that doesn't stop them from feeling weighed down by guilt.

'I guess we should stop,' Mike says. He's deliberately sitting a couple of seats away from Tina so he isn't tempted to do something truly scandalous like hold her hand or let their knees touch. He looks like a puppy that's been kicked around.

Sam nods. 'I don't like it here. I feel terrible.' He's in for high-fiving Puck, and Puck was already signed up because of leaving yesterday.

Blaine looks over to Santana. They both know everyone needs a pep talk, but they don't know if they've got it in them today. Blaine's exhausted – surely, if he was really that helpful, then he would have just a little bit of colour by now? And maybe everyone wouldn't be so miserable. Santana's priority is comforting Brittany, whose demeanour is close to Mike's. All they can think of is, 'sorry, things are just going to feel shit sometimes.'

'No.' Everyone looks at Quinn, startled by her defiance. She's been one of the most hesitant so far. When Philips gave her detention for walking to class too slowly, and looked disdainfully at her peach-coloured sweater, she'd taken it off as soon as she arrived at her lesson and hidden it in her bag. Now, she takes it out again, running her fingertips over the embroidered flowers on the front of it. 'I don't want to stop.'

Puck smiles at her. 'Me neither.'

'But,' Tina interrupts, 'I hate this. I want to be outside. When he shouted at us, I wanted the ground to swallow me up.'

'But can't you see how crazy it's making him?' Puck asks. 'He's losing control. Throwing us in here is a panic move. Have any of you seen that little vein popping in his head when he yells? That's my trophy for getting under his skin.'

Everyone laughs.

'It shouldn't matter that he doesn't like it, or that we end up in here for it,' Quinn says. 'Let him get mad. Let him give us detention. I'm not going to stop reading books and learning about new places. It's not like the other adults even agree with him. You saw how excited our teachers were to teach us new stuff, not just the same lesson over and over.'

'Our parents are in full colour now. They can't get enough change.' Blaine adds.

Santana says 'Yeah, our dad has been painting. I mean, badly, but he's still doing it. Our mom is getting a job, and she's going to start telling the other moms about what's happening here. The changes are good for the grownups too, not just us. It's only Philips that has a problem, and he's-' she wants to say some bad words but remembers they probably won't understand them, 'he's wrong. He has no right to make you feel like this.' She looks at Brittany then, stroking her hand. 'No right.'

Tina gets up and sits next to Mike, kissing him on the cheek. 'Yeah. I don't want to go back.'

Mike smiles coyly at her. 'Okay. Neither do I.'

Kurt has been observing quietly so far, holding Blaine's hand and listening to the others. 'It's okay to be scared. A lot of this is fun and exciting but it's a fight too. Didn't we all say we were ready for that?'

'I was born ready,' Puck says. 'There's only one of him.'

Blaine can see cogs turning in Kurt's mind. 'Yes. Yes, Puck, you've got it!'

'I have?'

'There's power in numbers. If it's just him against all of us – not just the school, but the whole town – he's got nothing. He can't put everybody in detention.'

Puck stands up abruptly. 'So we should trash the place before he gets back? Right?'

Santana gives him a look and gestures for him to sit back down. Quinn pats his hand. 'We're all on basically the same page. But timing is important. We just need to make sure every single person is on board before we try and bring him down.'

Mike looks like a lightbulb's just lit over his head. 'Friday. Everybody's going to be here on Friday for the Big Game. The whole town always comes to cheer us on.'

A silence falls upon the room for a moment.

Brittany sits up. She's been miserable all day since Philips shouted at her in front of her friends and looked at her like she was a piece of dirt. He made her feel like an outsider, like the new flush in her cheeks and the new way the sunshine bounced off her hair made her different and wrong, rather than beautiful and full of life. Now her eyes are determined. Santana had done everything she could to put her back together, but she realises it has to come from Brittany.

'Then we've got three days. Talk to your parents. We can all talk to our friends. I don't care if he puts me in here again. I'm not stopping.'

Santana glows with pride and kisses her. 'Good. I couldn't stand it if you stopped.'

The nervous uncertainty from Sunday night has fizzled out and been replaced with something fiercer. The group exits at 4pm, leaving Philips puzzled as to how they're still not broken.

Bob Philips usually likes his life. On any normal week, he would say he's a fairly content man. But this is not going to be any normal week.

Word has started to spread by Wednesday morning. Friday night it'll be the whole town against Philips, and so far everybody is totally on board with the plan. Nobody tells the other teachers, in case word gets back to the principal, but they're clearly as excited about moving forward as the kids. It's not just the geography teacher, either.

In English, they're finally moving past penmanship, punctuation and grammar, and actually doing something interesting for the first time.

'Miss Robinson helped me out by giving me these photographs,' Miss Mendoza explains as she hands out pictures to all the students. 'They're of people and places I've never even heard of. I want you to use these to do a piece of creative writing. It can be about whatever you want. I have one rule: it must take place outside of Lima.'

Everyone is lost for a good ten minutes, but she lets them share ideas and gives them some pointers to get them started, and soon enough the room is silent as everyone scribbles down their stories.

Philips is stalking the corridors, keeping a vigilant eye out for any reason to throw a student in detention. He's desperate to show that he won't back down until every single child is doing exactly what he wants. He smiles as he approaches Miss Mendoza's classroom. He knows which students are in there now, and he's pleased not to hear a peep. He enters just so he can smile at them smugly, let them know that he's won, but he ends up horrified.

Instead of the usual basic sentences copied out into books, each student has something different written in front of them. They're all looking at little photographs of things he doesn't recognise, jungles and cities and broad, colourful sunsets. Worst of all, half of the class, students who were perfectly normal this morning, are now fully in colour.

'Miss Mendoza, what exactly do you think you're doing? Look at what you've done to these children!'

'What?' She looks up from Tina's desk, where she had been helping her with a character description, and she gasps. 'Oh, goodness! Don't you all look wonderful!'

Most eyes in the room go to Mercedes, whose skin looks different to everyone else, even the other kids who are in colour. Her skin is a gorgeous dark brown none of them have seen before, and they're amazed.

'Mercedes,' Sam says, 'you – you look so beautiful.'

Taken by surprise, she looks up from her work to see her arms, dark against the red and white of her cheerleading uniform. She hurriedly reaches into her bag for her compact and gasps when she sees herself. 'Oh, I – wow. I mean, you all look nice, but I am glowing. I look stunning. Ooh, I never want to stop looking at myself!' She tilts her head to see how the light catches her skin at different angles.

'Not one more word!' Philips shouts. 'Every single one of you just earned a detention. And Miss Mendoza, I think you'd better follow the standard curriculum, or you may not have a job to come back to.'

'That's not fair!' Quinn says, 'She actually teaching us something for once! Look how much everyone's enjoying the lesson – or at least, they were until you came in. We didn't do anything wrong!'

The vein Puck pointed out yesterday is popping out again. 'You are not here to be creative. You are here to do as you are told. That is how school prepares you for the real world. Quinn, you can join Miss Jones in detention for the rest of the week.'

Mercedes is distraught. 'For what? I didn't do this on purpose! And I look so good!'

'Arrogance does not suit you, young lady, and if you know what's good for you, nobody will say another word. Back to your usual studies, right this second, and I will see you all at 3pm.'

Miss Mendoza looks like a rabbit in headlights, practically cowering until he's gone.

'I guess… I think we should stop our writing for now. You can finish it another day.'

They want to argue, to keep going, now that they're finally getting some joy out of their lessons, but they don't want to upset her any more.

'Maybe we could just finish it for homework?' Mike offers.

She nods. 'That would be lovely, Mike. I really do want to read what you've done. But for this morning, I suppose it's back to handwriting.'

The rest of the lesson is silent, but there's still an air of defiance in the room. Miss Mendoza is radiating quiet rage.

Detention isn't detention tonight. It's a committee meeting.

Kurt elects himself head of design for Friday, and nobody argues. They make a list of supplies they'll need – fabrics, paints, cardboard. Puck not-so-subtly tells everyone he's got his own plans to mess with Philips. The basketball team and the Cheerleaders work together on choreography and presentation, making everything as obnoxious and loud as possible. They discuss whose parents are willing to get involved, which seems to everybody's, and plan their involvement. They lose track of time, almost forgetting to be back in their seats quietly by 3:55 in time for him to come back to let them go.

When he does return, he seems eerily calm, especially compared to his outburst this morning.

'How is everyone feeling? Still excited about your new, exciting developments?'

'We're fine, thank you, Mr Philips,' Kurt says, matching his tone. 'Just trying to learn from our mistakes. Can't wait to see if it sticks.'

Philips smiles. The vein doesn't throb. 'Well, tomorrow will be the perfect time to test out your new education.'

Mercedes frowns. 'What do you mean? What's happening tomorrow?'

'You'll see. I'll be making an announcement in first period that I think you'll all find fascinating. Hopefully it'll clear up some of the recent confusion regarding the rules of this fine establishment.'

For a moment, the students look at each other, worried by how calm he is, scared what the new rules will be, thrown off by this unexpected turn. But they quickly realise that they can't let him see them looking bothered. They mirror his behaviour.

'That'll be very helpful, sir,' Puck says, 'I love rules. Can't get enough.'

Philips mostly manages to hide his disappointment at their lack of distress. Mostly. The vein isn't as good at playing it cool as the rest of him.

'Excellent. You may all go home. And you know, one step out of line, and you'll be right back here tomorrow.'

They're not sure how it happens, but they manage to simultaneously give him huge, unnatural smiles.

'Goodbye, Mr Philips,' they chime in near-perfect unison as they file out of the room.

At home, dinner is barely touched. They're too busy discussing Friday night. Thanks to Mom and Dad, all of the adults in the town are excited to get involved. They're all jealous of the colour and affection and joy between them, not to mention thrilled at the recent availability of bigger beds.

They have English again on Thursday. Miss Mendoza has obviously caught the rebellion bug – they aren't doing creative writing today, but she's found something she's even more excited about. Not to mention her skin is now a light brown, her dress lilac. Something has clearly woken up in her.

'Listen, everyone. I read the most incredible book last night. I didn't put it down until I finished it. I want us to read it as a class and look at some parts in detail, maybe even write about it afterwards. It… it's changed how I think about teaching. About life. Mike, Finn, could you pass these around to everybody please?'

Santana smiles when she's handed a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. It's been a while since she read it, but she remembers being moved to tears by it, although she obviously kept that a secret at the time. Back then, Atticus had reminded her of her own father, the way he read with her when she was little, how he always spoke to her like an adult and told her the truth – something her mother couldn't manage. She misses looking up to him like that. She peels back the front cover, scanning through the information in the front, and her eyes widen. She clears her throat and glares at Blaine, trying to get his attention. Even though she knows it won't work, she tries to mouth to him:

'I, ee, is, ee.'

He scrunches his face up at her.

Rolling her eyes, she points to the inside of the book.

Still nothing.

She puts it down and holds her fingers up. First one, then nine, then six, then she curls her hand into a zero. He quickly looks inside the cover and grins.

Everything so far has felt firmly stuck in the 50s – the music, the clothes, the gender roles – but this book came out in 1960. Nobody has seen it in the library before now as far as they know. Things really must be moving forward in a big way, bigger than Philips can possibly control.

They look to the front, where Miss Mendoza has written on the board: 'What does fairness mean? What should we be willing to do to get it?'

Subtle. Looks like Philips may have chosen the wrong teacher to yell at in front of her students.

Kurt raises his hand.

'Fairness means everybody having the same opportunities as everybody else. Everyone being treated the same no matter who they are.'

'I love that answer, thank you Kurt. Can anybody give me an example of a time when they've experienced something being unfair?'

'Every single thing Mr Philips has done for the last week?'

Miss Mendoza does a half-decent job of hiding her smirk. 'Now, now, let's not name names. But can you elaborate on what you mean?'

Blaine and Santana sit back and let the others fill in the gaps.

'Throwing us in detention.'

'Treating me differently just because my skin is a different colour.'

'Exploding at you in front of your class – I don't know how you didn't hit him.'

'Taking the orange basketballs away. I liked them. They were so much easier to see.'

'Right. That's really interesting, thank you everyone. Now, I want you to talk to the person next to you about the second question: What should we be willing to do to get fairness?'

The feedback is unanimous. 'Whatever it takes.'

She smiles. She's as shocked as the rest of them by what happens next, but she obviously knew something big was coming, hence the heavy-handed questioning. The seldom-used speaker in an upper corner of the room crackles into life, making them all jump.

'Good morning, students of William McKinley High. It has come to my attention that new teaching resources have recently become available. To be clear, at this school, we will adhere to the traditional curriculum. New maps, books, and technologies are not to be studied by any student. We have also updated the school dress code: From tomorrow onwards, students may only wear black, white and grey, regardless of the recent availability of other colours. Students with coloured skin are expected to apply makeup so that this is covered.' Mercedes, Brittany, and the other students who no longer have grey skin are crestfallen. The voice continues to ring out over their heads.

'I am aware that some classrooms now contain colour – this will be rectified this weekend. I will be recruiting staff and parents to volunteer to patrol the new areas of the town, to prevent inappropriate behaviour between students. You represent our school when you are in public, and we expect you to behave in the correct way, reflecting our school values. Boys may shake hands and pat each other on the back. Girls may hug, in friendship only. Anyone found displaying any more affection than this either at school or in town, including holding hands, will be escorted home.'

Puck clenches his fist. Tina scowls. Finn looks ready to cry.

'Tonight's detention is cancelled, so that everyone has time to source appropriate clothing for school. Instead of the hour spent monitoring this session, I will be gathering materials for a special event this evening. I have been made aware of the large amounts of… unpleasant reading material in our school library, as well as the library in town. I will be collecting books that should not be accessed by children, or indeed by anyone, and destroying them. This will take place on the school field at 7pm tonight, and I hope to see you and your parents there, so that my intentions are completely clear to everybody.' Miss Mendoza's face falls, as do Quinn and Kurt's. 'If you are currently in possession of any books, please return them to me by the end of today. Thank you for your attention. Have a superb day of learning everyone.'

The silence lasts at least thirty seconds. Suddenly any honest discussion on school premises feels more dangerous. They don't know if he can hear them, or if he'll march them home, suspend them, or worse, make them help destroy the books. The idea is unbearable to all of them, whether they've actually been reading them or not.

Quinn's voice is shaky when she asks, 'Miss Mendoza… what should we do? Do we have to give the books to him?'

She takes a deep breath before answering. She knows she needs to be careful.

'I'm sure you all understand that I can't tell you to go against the principal's instructions. I'm an employee at this school, and I have to support his decisions.' The students' faces fall. 'However, if you question those decisions, there's nothing I can do about it. I can tell you that I will not be volunteering to patrol the streets, and I doubt any other teachers will be eager to give up their time, regardless of their opinions. I can remind you of what you just said about fairness, and how we should be willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen.' Her expression is inscrutable, but they smile at her. 'I can also tell you that he can't burn books that he can't find. In fact, I have no idea where any of my books are. And if they end up in your houses, there's nothing he can do about it.'

Everyone quickly stashes their copy of the book into their bags with a mischievous grin.

'So the other teachers are sick of him, too?' Finn asks.

She smiles. 'I don't know what you're talking about. I would never suggest such a thing.'

Finn's mouth hangs open in confusion. Kurt pats his arm and nods at him. 'Oh. Right. Okay.'

'And it's good that there's no detention tonight, because I've heard people have been using detentions to make certain plans. I just hope those discussions don't move to the diner, around 7:30, right after Mr Philips' event here. When I'm not at work, and I can say whatever I want.'

There's a ripple of laughter in the room.

'Please tell me we don't have to do more handwriting practice.'

'You need to have it in front of you in case anybody drops into the lesson.'

This is almost as exciting as reading the book would have been. This kind of naughtiness is new and fun and makes Finn feel like a spy.

The second the bell rings at 3, everyone runs home to get to work.

They're surprised how many people pitch in to help hide the books. Every parent, their friends and colleagues, even Santana's boss raid the libraries with boxes, bags, even some wheelbarrows, much to the librarians' delight, so they can all be stashed in garages and cupboards and underneath beds.

Once this is done, they have to change back into grey clothes, some applying grey make-up and slightly darker grey lipstick, tying up any non-grey hair. It's galling, but they keep reminding themselves that they won't have to adhere to these rules for long.

Just as Philips wanted, the whole town shows up to the school field to watch his amazing ceremony, destroying the things corrupting the young minds. The only slight divergence from his plan: he can't find a single god damned book, and he hasn't been able to get anybody to help him man the event. A huge crowd smiles serenely, waiting for him to get started. He's a sweaty, rumpled mess from assembling scraps of wood to get a bonfire started, but it won't light. Burt even offers to help at this point, albeit sarcastically, but Philips refuses. Once he finally gets some smoke up, he turns to a box next to him, plucking a rectangular object from it.

'Ladies and gentlemen, here we have just one example of the kind of filth that I will expunge from this town. This used to be a place of goodness, of safety, and now these are appearing. Full of obscenity, and disrespect, and the kind of ideas we don't want our children growing up with. I'm so glad you're all here to take a stand with me as we destroy these books!'

That doesn't get the roaring cheer he expects.

Blaine and Santana's father raises his hand.

'Uh, yes, Mr Anderson?'

'That's not a book.'

Philips falters. 'Well, um…'

'He's right!' Puck shouts, delighted, 'It's a block of wood!' He runs over, reaches into the box and grabs another "book" – they're all blocks of wood, three sides crudely painted to look like book covers. 'How long did these take you, Principal? They're not very good.'

Everyone in the crowd has to squeeze their lips together so they don't laugh. Philips snatches the block out of Puck's hand.

'Due to some safety concerns, I chose to use facsimiles instead of real books. The real books… will be destroyed privately. This is more, uh, symbolic. Please rest assured, everyone, your children are safe from this menace to our community.'

He waits for applause, but is met by silence and a few cracks and pops from the dwindling fire.

'Okay. Can we leave now?' Tina asks.

Philips looks around, scrambling for some way to salvage this train wreck, but he knows it's hopeless.

'Yes. But don't forget that the new rules will be enforced tomorrow.' He has to shout to be heard as the crowd disperses. 'There will be serious consequences to any breaches!' Burt scoffs. 'Mr Hummel, did you just roll your eyes at me?'

Burt, completely unbothered, squares up to him.

'I don't know, did I?' Philips can't help backing down a little. 'What are you gonna do, Bob? Throw me in detention? Are you a big enough man to pick on somebody your own size?'

'Dad,' Kurt touches his arm, 'It's okay. Not like this.'

Burt takes a breath. He prods Philips in the chest. 'You're lucky my kid is tough enough to fight his own battles. Because if it was up to me, I'd be throwing you on that pile of planks right now.' He gives him a fake-friendly thump on the arm. 'See you at the game tomorrow, buddy!'

The diner's store cupboard has become a small library, and the diner itself has become the headquarters of the uprising. It's packed: kids, parents, teachers, everybody is jammed in awkwardly, but they don't care. The air is full of excited chatter, the buzz of sewing machines and the occasional cloud of glitter that Finn keeps accidentally breathing in. The few kids who had to cover their skin have now smeared most of the makeup off their faces, and Brittany's lips are completely pink again thanks to a lot of kisses from Santana.

By the end of the night, they've made everything they need for tomorrow evening. They feel a little sorry for whoever the visiting team is for the game – they have no idea what they're in for. Everyone has memorised the timings and know exactly what they're going to wear and what they'll be holding. With every detail finalised, they figure they can take a little extra time for a dance party. Turns out Miss Mendoza has got some serious moves.

Amidst the chaos, Kurt takes Blaine's hand and nods to the door. They weave through the crowd and step outside together.

'Everything okay?'

Kurt nods. 'Yeah, everything's fine. You know, a little nervous about tomorrow, but we've got a good team. And I don't just mean for the basketball.' Blaine smiles. 'But I'm going to head home. Today was long, and tomorrow's going to be even longer.'

'Very true. You're doing so well, you know that, right? I'm so proud of you. I'm proud to be with you.'

That's when Blaine sees the extent of Kurt's exhaustion, and a sadness in his eyes that makes Blaine ache. 'I hate that you have to leave.'

The cool, night breeze cuts through Blaine. 'I know. So do I.'

'I get why. I know it's the right thing for you, I really do. Look, at first I couldn't kiss you because of Brittany. Then because I wasn't ready, then because the timing was wrong, but now… Blaine, it's already going to hurt so much when you go, and I think if we-' he pauses, takes a breath while trying not to laugh-cry, 'If we kiss, then I'm going to fall even more in love with you than I already am, and it's just going to hurt even more. And I'm so scared.'

Blaine tangles his fingertips with Kurt's. Their breath mingles into one cloud that floats above them. He doesn't think he's felt this kind of cold here before.

'I know there's nothing I can say to make this better, Kurt. I'm scared, too. I miss my parents, and I want to go home to them, but when I think about having to say goodbye to you, it just seems impossible.' Kurt nods. 'But I know there are other people in the world who don't even get to feel like this for two weeks, and by some bizarre twist of fate, we did. We are. And I think the only thing worse than leaving you, would be leaving you without ever-'

He stops himself. He leans in slowly enough that Kurt could move away if he wanted, moves his hand up to cup Kurt's cheek, and waits for the slightest, almost imperceptible nod from Kurt, before closing the gap between them with a kiss. They both melt as soon as their lips touch, pressing closer together, all the worry, the nerves, the fear dissolving. Blaine can feel Kurt smiling against his lips, which makes him smile too, and within seconds they're both giggling and a little dizzy, their eyes closed.

'I'm an idiot,' Kurt whispers. 'We could've been doing that this whole time and I chose not to?'

Blaine laughs, kissing him again. 'We've still got time. Let's cancel tomorrow and just do this.'

'I know you're kidding, but I'm tempted.'

'If you're tempted then I'm not kidding.'

Kurt pulls him close, resting his cheek on Blaine's hair. They both look in the window at everyone in the diner, dancing and singing and laughing. 'They're scared too, aren't they? But it's not stopping them.'

'They're just trusting that the good things will outweigh the fear.'

'Or maybe they're not overthinking everything every hour of the day and it means they can just live their lives.'

'Hey, no,' another quick kiss, 'don't do that. I'm glad you didn't rush yourself. It shows how much this matters to you. I love that you want to do things right.'

'But I knew we didn't have much time-'

Blaine kisses him again, longer and slower this time. They savour it, feeling the warmth of each other's skin so close, so real. 'How do you feel right now? How is this,' another kiss, 'making you feel?'

Kurt's cheeks are hot when he looks at Blaine. 'Good. Wonderful.'

'Kurt, I've done things before I was ready.' He finds himself looking away from Kurt, focusing on the stars, a tree a few yards away, a rosebush next to them. 'It never felt as good as this. Usually it didn't feel good at all. It left me feeling empty and alone. I never want you to feel like that.' He feels his eyes prickling, his voice faltering, and he realises that maybe he was hurting back home more than he let himself acknowledge. He blinks a few times and clears his throat. 'The way it's going to hurt when I have to leave – that shows that this matters. I'm so grateful that you waited until it felt right. If we'd kissed that night at my house, or when you were still with Brittany, maybe it still would've felt great, but not as good as this.'

Kurt moves in this time, his hands on Blaine's waist, as if he can kiss him and hold him close enough to take away all of the pain from his other life. He pulls back, pressing a kiss to Blaine's cheek, his jaw, his temple.

'You can talk about it if you want to.'

Blaine sniffs and shakes his head. 'No. Not here. Here I've got you.' He has to blink a few times to clear his vision. 'Wait.' He grabs Kurt's shoulders and angles him towards the light of the diner. 'Kurt, look!' The version of himself that Kurt has been storing inside his head is finally staring back at him, in glowing greens and blues. He's wanted it for so long now that he feels like he should be screaming, jumping for joy, but right now all that matters is holding his boyfriend as close as possible, trying to undo some of the hurt he'll probably never understand, showing him that he is more than worthy of softness, kindness, the gentle kind of love that Kurt wants to give him.

He knows that sometimes he gets caught up in his own fragility and he forgets that Blaine has a past, he has damage and pain and he needs reassurance and affection just as much as Kurt, if not more. He walks them over to a bench and they sit, so they can both get their breath back. Kurt wraps his arm around Blaine's shoulders and they gaze up at the stars for a minute.

'It will be okay when you leave. I mean, we'll probably both be a mess at first, but we'll get through it. We're both stronger than we think.'

Blaine, nuzzled into Kurt's side, looks up at him. 'Yeah?'

'What we have – you deserve it there, too. It doesn't make a difference to me what you did or what happened to you before, because I know you. I know the Blaine Anderson who is so kind, and has so much love to give, who can get a whole town to rise up against injustice. You don't have to tell me anything from before. I just want you believe that you can deal with it, and you can be okay.'

Blaine exhales slowly, shakily, shifting even closer to Kurt.

'Thank you.'

'Can I walk you home?'

Blaine glances back to the diner. They look like they could still be going for a while. They've got it under control – or at least Santana will make sure they have before she lets them leave.

'Yes, please. This time tomorrow, all of this could be different.'

'Or we've severely miscalculated, and everything will go back to grey.'

Kurt stands up and offers his arm; Blaine takes it.

'I don't think you were ever grey to begin with.'