Okay, so I've been mad MIA of late, but in my defense, I've got a job, moved cities, found an apartment and commuted four hours a day at ridiculous times in the past two weeks. Things are finally settling a little bit, so things should get back on track.

Thank you sincerely to those who have continued to read and those who stick with me during this. I hope I can brighten a day a little with some silly writing and some lovely boys.

Enjoy.


It had been another week since regionals and while the Warblers were still practising and singing, it was down to three times a week rather than five. It wasn't helping Flint though. His father had called and told him that his grandmother had developed pneumonia. He had to go to China, or Chile, or Chad or somewhere and could Flint make sure that he checked in on here a few times during the week?

He had gone on Tuesday and Thursday, when Kurt though he was having roommate night, and again when Kurt had gone out for coffee with Blaine to talk about Vogue and politics, which Flint wasn't entirely into as much as Kurt. Jeff had been okay with it. Flint wasn't sure why he didn't tell Kurt.

Maybe it was because the visits were awful. They really were. His grandmother had been bedridden, looking pale and fragile in a way that made Flint very uncomfortable.

It wasn't that Flint couldn't handle sick people. It was just that when her body had seemed healthy, it was easier to deal with the way her mind was slipping away. Seeing how she had lost weight, seeing the way her lined cheeks were a little hollow and her blue eyes a bit milky, Flint hadn't lasted long in the first visit. With her unable to leave her room, Flint had borrowed a keyboard from the music department at Dalton and played awkwardly on his lap. His grandmother had lain there, her breath rough and slow, her eyes drifting over to him occasionally, only to slide closed.

After twenty minutes, Flint had zipped the keyboard into its case roughly, and blown by the reception desk without signing out.

Jeff had been out when he got in, and Flint had just fallen onto his bed. His eyes were burning hot, but he couldn't cry. He just hyperventilated a little into his hands before pretending to be asleep when Jeff came in from the library.

If Jeff noticed that no one in the world could be that tense while asleep, he didn't say anything to Flint.


Flint took a lengthy sip from his coffee cup and considered Kurt. He was sitting across the table from him, texting rapidly and simultaneously with Mercedes, Rachel and Blaine. That was okay though. Flint was supposed to be checking his math homework right now anyways.

"Cedes says hi." Kurt piped up. "I wasn't going to say anything, cause I didn't want to interrupt your work. But you're not actually doing any are you?"

Flint sighed and put down the pen he had been fiddling with.

"Something on your mind?"

Flint wrapped his hands around the warmth of his coffee cup. It was miserable out today. It was early April now, and cold spring rain had made campus and Westerville wet and dark all day.

"Dunno." His thumbs picked at the edge of the lid.

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Did I do something I should know about?"

"No." Flint mumbled.

"Did I not do something I should know about?" Kurt tried again. Flint just shook his head.

"Okay. I guess I'll just be shutting up then."

Flint winced at Kurt's sharp tone.

"Kurt..."

"What? If you don't want to talk to me, fine. Maybe I'm in a bad mood too." Kurt looked back pointedly at his phone.

"I'm not in a bad mood. You're being too sensitive." Flint said with frustration. He knew it wasn't true, but he said it anyways, feeling defensive.

"I was just asking if you were okay! There wasn't any need to go biting my head off."

"I'm fine okay! Why dyou have to dig into my business?"

Flint regretted his sharp words immediately as Kurt's face suddenly cooled. His mouth slipped into a taut line and his movements became sharp and staccato.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that caring about you was so intrusive." Kurt snatched his pens and notebook, tucking them into his satchel, and stood up, pushing his chair in with a screech of metal on tile.

Flint glanced around the coffee shop self-consciously.

"Kurt-"

"Look, if you didn't want to spend time with me, you didn't have to ask me out for a coffee and study date. I don't want to be some kind of obligation you feel you need to fulfil." Kurt was pulling on his coat and whipping the end of his scarf over his shoulder.

"I never said that!" Flint exclaimed, before glancing around in embarrassment at his own raised voice.

"I'm going to take the bus back to Dalton."

"Kurt!" Flint squeezed his eyes shut tightly in frustration as Kurt marched to the front of the store and slipped outside. The door on the bell sounded like it was laughing at him. He wanted to rip it down.


Flint shuffled into the familiar hall, his hands jammed deep into his pockets. He stepped towards the desk, but stalled and slipped back to sit in the row of clinical chairs against the opposite wall.

He let his head press down into his hands and just...sat. He didn't really know what to do.

"Hey, young man, what are you doing sitting out here?" Flint looked up at Mathilde, a little bleary eyed. The nurse looked to be off for the day. She had her coat on over her cheery scrubs, and a tote bag over her shoulder.

"Dunno." Flint shrugged. He let out the air in his chest with a deep sigh and Mathilde frowned.

"That doesn't sound good. Come on honey. You look like you could use an ear to bend."

"No, you should go home. I'm fine. Really." Flint protested. The woman just glared at him and headed towards the hall that lead to the dining room. He couldn't help himself from following. What else was he supposed to do?

He followed Mathilde to the coffee station, pouring himself a cup of hot water. He added lemon juice and honey and stirred it slowly as he trailed behind her to a table in the corner.

"Sit."

Flint sat down heavily. Mathilde observed him for a moment.

"I've seen you come here. Week after week. All by yourself. Your sisters have stopped. Your father comes, but never stays long. Its hard." It was a comment, not a question. Mathilde knew exactly what happened here. It was comforting to Flint.

"It's my duty...and...I love her. She's my grandma. She used to make lemon cake and she would make an extra little one just for me, and she always wrote birthday cards with poems in them and..."

He swallowed uncomfortably and took a sip from his drink.

"I know it's difficult." Mathilde reached out and squeezed his hand. "I've always admired you for your persistence. But..." She smiled kindly at him. "Isn't there someone that you can lean on? You know what they say about a burden shared."

Flint tried to smile, really. But he just saw a flash of Kurt's sharp, cool expression when he'd left the coffee shop.

"I dunno. I don't want anyone to have to deal with this." He shook his head. Mathilde looked at him carefully.

"If you have someone in your life who cares about you...really cares...they'll want to help you. It won't be a weight on them if they're helping lift if off of you."

"But I screwed up." Flint whispered miserably.

"Did you have a fight?" He nodded, swallowing thickly.

"What's their name?" She asked. Flint looked up. Their. Not her. There was something about that in particular that made him let out a shaky breath.

"Kurt." The name squeezed out of him along with what was left of the air in his lungs.

"He sounds like someone pretty amazing."

"You can tell that from his name?" Flint said skeptically. Mathilde shook her head.

"No. By the way you say it."

Flint flushed awkwardly. He hated the fact that he was so uncontrollably and conspicuously attached to Kurt. Sometimes he felt like it was branded on his forehead. And while he certainly wasn't ashamed, he did feel a little pathetic sometimes.

"Does he know about Ellen?" Mathilde posed, sipping from her chipped white mug.

"Unhunh." Flint confirmed. She seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Bring him sometime. You deserve that much. And he'll probably be happy that you're letting him in more."

"I guess." Mathilde pressed her palm warmly over Flint's hand.

"Go home and talk to him. Ellen is doing fine. Go be selfish. You're still just a boy." She said it with a teasing smile and Flint reluctantly agreed.

"Thank you."

Mathilde just smiled and lifted her bag onto her shoulder.

"I'll see you on your next visit. Maybe you can introduce me to this boy who's got you all up in knots."


Flint stood outside Kurt's room back at Dalton and stared at the name plaque. He could hear the swell of music from inside. He'd have to knock loudly for Kurt to hear him. Or he could just run back to his room and try to ignore that he was being a huge tool.

The door swung open and Flint's mouth opened in surprise. Kurt looked up just as he started forwards and he snapped back sharply when he realized someone was there.

"I'm sorry!" Flint blurted out, retreating immediately behind a sheepish, hesitant expression. Kurt reached up and pulled his sunglasses off slowly.

"For?"

Flint tossed through his mind quickly, trying to figure out what the right way to answer was.

"Um, being a jerk?"

Kurt leaned against his doorframe and crossed his arms.

"Okay. I accept your apology. Now what are we going to do about it?"

This made Flint stop and stutter for a minute.

"I ..."

"Flint. Something was clearly bothering you and instead of talking to me, or Jeff or someone, you decided to yell at me."

Flint nodded, and looked up at Kurt plaintively.

"I really am sorry."

Kurt finally smiled a very little.

"I know. But I still don't know why you were so upset. You know I want to be there for you. I can't if you won't tell me what is happening in your life."

Flint chewed on his lower lip a little as Kurt watched him patiently.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You aren't a bother to me. You know I ... care about you."

Flint frowned at the pause, but he was distracted by the almost hurt look on Kurt's face. He shifted forwards, his hand tracing along the plane of his cheek, just focusing on the way Kurt leaned into the touch slightly.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I... I don't want you to worry about me." Flint murmured, glancing at him.

"Too late babe. I'm kinda already invested in all this mess." His smile showed that he was teasing, and Kurt wrapped his hands around Flint's waist. Flint stretched up so he could rest his chin on the top of Kurt's head.

"I guess I am a bit of a mess."

"It's okay. I like getting dirty once in a while."

Flints eyebrows flicked up and Kurt squeezed his eyes shut.

"That didn't come out like I intended."

"That's a shame." Flint grinned. Kurt pushed his chest lightly and found his hand trapped against it.

Flint was looking down at him with heat behind his guarded eyes.

"So you forgive me?"

Kurt smiled coyly.

"If you wanted to find a different way to apologize I could take it back."

Flint let his hands lift up to Kurt's shoulders, and they stepped back slowly.

"Do you have to be somewhere?" Flint asked lowly, staring down at Kurt.

"No. I was just going to go for a walk. I've got the whole afternoon free."

"Good. Cause I am really...really...really sorry." Kurt laughed softly at Flint's words and pulled him closer.

"Oh? Really?" Kurt let his jacket slip from his shoulders and tossed to towards his desk.

" Yeah. So so so sorry." Flint murmured as he leant in and pressed a kiss to Kurt's smiling mouth.

"Well, you should know I might need a lot of convincing."

"Awesome." Flint barely got out before he pressed his lips insistently to Kurt's.

Kurt laughed and his hands slipped under Flint's shirt to the warm skin of his back.

"Mmmmmmm." Flint buried his nose into the crook of Kurt's neck, into the soft skin and familiar scent that waited there. His lips pushed against those collarbones he admired through the crisp cotton of Kurt's shirt.

"Sweetheart, please never stay mad at me." Flint whispered and he thought he could feel Kurt's chest heave a little against his.

"Please don't hide things from me." Kurt countered, but not unkindly. Kurt could feel the gentle rub of skin on skin that formed his boyfriend's nod.

"I need you. To touch you." Flint murmured. Kurt stroked the back of Flint's hair slowly, his fingers carding in against his scalp.

"I'm not stopping you."

Flint couldn't help but think there was a much bigger, more general invitation behind Kurt's words than just a chance at physical intimacy. But that could wait. Would wait. Because right now he needed Kurt's warm, smooth skin and long, taut lines. His hands started pushing Kurt's shirt up his body. They wandered back to Kurt's bed slowly, Kurt's arms rising up in a a lazy arc to let Flint pull his shirt up over his head. With a broad palm pressed flat to his chest, Kurt fell back lightly onto the bed. Flint climbed over him, not on top, and laid down on his side. He rested his head on one arm and stared over the expanse of skin in front of him. His free hand reached out, trailing a finger, and two fingers, and then his palm along Kurt's chest and ribs and stomach.

"Dyou feel like sometimes its just...nice to know someone is there?" Flint questioned. Kurt's eyes were closed, his head laid back. One of his hands twisted playfully in a lock of Flint's hair. He had been ready for a hot make out session, but this Flint, warm and cautious and exploring, was a wonderful feeling he wasn't about to abandon.

"Mmm. After my dad's heart attack I used to go stand outside his door at night. Just to make sure he was still breathing."

"Okay." Flint replied, not so sure why he'd picked that word exactly. He paused for a moment before his next, and equally unexpected, words emerged.

"My grandmother has pneumonia. Will you come and sing to her with me?"

Kurt seemed to be still for a moment, and Flint's hand settled somewhere over his heart, waiting.

"I'm sorry she's sick. Just let me know when. You know I never pass up a chance to put on a performance." Kurt was teasing, but he was acutely aware of the precarious new territory that they were letting each other into.

Neither of them knew what would happen. They'd just have to find out. But for just now, both of them were satisfied with the soft touches and murmurs from the other as they kissed slowly in the dim light.


A few floors down and away, Blaine and Devon were lying on Blaine's bed, showing a little bit more enthusiasm in their kisses. They had only made out a few times now, after Devon had show up at his and Kurt's practice last week, and then after regionals. Now they were both kneeling on the crumpled sheets, Devon's hands cupping Blaine's jaw and Blaine's hands trying not to get into straight up groping territory.

"You are like...the hottest guy I've ever met." Devon said against Blaine's mouth.

"You're sweet but delusional Dev." Blaine returned, kissing under Devon's jaw and along towards his chest. Their shirts had been off for a while now, even though Blaine had been hesitant at first.

Devon's body was just...ridiculous. His swimming had toned the muscles in his arms and chest and Blaine would have been really jealous if he wasn't so turned on by it. His hand trailed down to Devon's stomach, dancing a little daringly towards the lines near his hips. Devon started to lean back, and Blaine followed him down.

"I am so into you." Blaine said with a bit of a laugh, looking over the boy in his bed.

Devon pulled back a little, resting on his elbows, and looked at Blaine. He was clearly trying to focus some sort of seductive look on the other boy. And while it didn't really look natural on him, he wasn't exactly failing at it.

"We can have sex if you want." Devon said with a casualness that made Blaine stop suddenly, his hands pulling back.

"We- wait, what? We've been going out for two weeks."

"I know. That's why I thought..." Devon didn't seem surprised by Blaine's statement, just looked at him like he was being a bit ridiculous. "I mean...it's not a big deal, is it?"

Blaine thumped back into a sitting position, staring at Devon unsurely.

"Why after two weeks are you willing to do this?" Blaine asked. Even with Jeremiah, they'd been fooling around for almost two months before they actually had sex.

Devon seemed a bit shocked for a moment, before smiling easily and starting to explain as though Blaine should be well aware of his reasoning.

"The last guy I went out with, in the summer...his name was Kyle, and he just finished his freshman year at college, and was working for my uncle."

Blaine frowned, but was patiently waiting for Devon's reasoning.

"Okay..."

"Well, he said that with older guys, like him... or I guess you...that if you knew that you liked the other guy, but you weren't having sex, then there wasn't really a point. And if we wanted a relationship, then I needed to keep up with where he was at."

"What do you mean no point?" Blaine said incredulously.

Devon seemed to be stumbling a bit now, starting to look unsure.

"I mean... like... if you knew you liked each other, there was no reason to not be having sex. No one was going to get pregnant or anything like with a girl. So if... if you knew you wanted to be with some one you should..."

"And you believed him?" Blaine said almost angrily. Angry at this Kyle jerk, and at Jeremiah, and at anyone who took advantage of someone being young and trying to learn about love.

"I...I...yes?" Devon stuttered out.

"Devon! You're smarter than that!" Blaine ground out in frustration. Fairly though, it was equally directed at himself as it was at the other boy. He was angry that this bright, sweet boy in front of him had been coaxed into making the same mistakes he had.

Devon's face was crumpling at Blaine's disappointed tone and he seemed to be grasping to catch onto any remnants of his skewed view on love and relationships falling down around him.

"Dyou...dyou not want me?"

"Dev, this has nothing to do with that." Blaine said immediately, reaching out to comfort him.

Devon pulled his knees up to his chest and glared.

"Don't touch me. And it has everything to do with that. Am I not attractive enough for you? Are you disappointed that I'm not a virgin? That... that I'm...I don't know..."

Blaine pulled his hands back and huffed in frustration.

"Devon. Listen to me alright? I'm not upset that you've had sex. I have too. Kinda for the same reason. But with us? I don't want that. I want you to know that I think you're awesome, and kinda ridiculous, and really, really wonderful."

Devon shook his head and pushed on.

"But you don't want to have sex with me. Are you going to break up with me?"

Blaine's throat tightened as Devon continued.

"Kyle...he did. Cause I wasn't really...I didn't wanna do some of the stuff he wanted to and...he said I was being a baby about it. He said he broke up with me because I was too uptight in bed."

"No! Look, Dev. I don't know who this Kyle guy was, but he was a jerk. We don't have to have sex until we're ready. We don't have to have sex at all to be together! I mean, I'd like to at some point, yes but...there's so much more about you being my boyfriend than just that."

"I don't..." Devon was looking a little wretched, clearly surprised by the startling difference between Blaine and his last boyfriend.

"I like being able to be with you." Blaine emphasized. "For all I care we could just spend time together talking and screwing around with guitars and watching movies, and I would like that. I don't want us to do anything until we're both ready. And...you might have to wait for me. I don't...I'm not very good at this. And I don't want to screw it up. I really like you Devon."

"I like you too Blaine. A lot." Devon said earnestly. His fingers twitched, but he seemed to be holding them back. Tbis Kyle kid really did a number on Devon and his self esteem by the looks of it.

"Can..." He looked up at Blaine unsurely. "Can we still make out? I mean, if you're actually ready for that? Only, I just...you're a really good kisser, and I like being close to you, and that my bed and my clothes smell like you afterwards, and you just feel so good Blaine, I swear..."

Blaine blushed heavily at Devon's words and gave a little nervous laugh.

"Yes. I think that is a good place for us to work from. And I, uh... I like it when you...um...when you touch my face?" God, he sounded like an idiot. "I mean, it's just...you're really sure of yourself, but still gentle...when you kiss, and you run you fingers over my cheek and my jaw and I just...I told you at suck at this." Blaine muttered. He was just so awful at romance sometimes. "Its kinda a big flaw of mine. I'm really awkward about this stuff. Sorry."

Devon just smiled a little, looking up at Blaine before tilting his head to press warm, soft kisses against near the corner of his mouth. His hand rose and cool fingers slid slowly along the line of Blaine's jaw.

"You're not so bad." Devon smiled.

Blaine was starting to realize that there was a lot more to Devon than the excitable, cheerful boy. While that was genuine, and really was how Devon felt most of the time, behind it there was anxiety and self-doubt and all the other things Blaine felt too. It seemed that as bright and as cheery as Devon could be, he could dip just as dramatically low at times.

It could have made him terrified, want to run away from any kind of attachment. But strangely, when it came to Dev...Blaine just wished desperately he could make the other boy smile and forget whatever was nagging at him.


Monday night, Kurt drove them to Bryant Park. As he pulled the keyboard out of the back seat, Flint glanced over the roof of the car. Kurt was watching him with a funny look on his face.

"What?"

Kurt just smiled.

"Nothing. You're just...you're great."

Flint blushed over the tips of his ears.

"Oh. Well...thanks. We should get inside..." Flint stumbled, walking around the car and holding his hand out to Kurt.

"Okay." Kurt smiled widely to himself. It was actually really nice to have Flint letting him into his life, even if it was one of the more painful parts.


"Okay, so we just have to sign in here." Flint explained, handing the pen over. "And then we go down that hallway." Flint adjusted the keyboard case nervously and started off, the steady footsteps behind him the only reassurance that Kurt was following.

Flint stepped in and waited for a moment. There was no spark of recognition in his grandmother's eyes. He nodded slightly to himself and looked to Mathilde.

"Hi Mathilde." She smiled up at him from her spot on the other side of the bed. Her eyebrows perked up and she leaned a bit to the side.

"Do you have someone with you today?" Flint shifted to the side, letting Kurt step up into the room fully.

"Yeah, um...this is Kurt."

"Kurt, hm?" She seemed to take this without much interest, but Flint caught the look she sent him.

"Hi." Kurt gave her a polite wave. "I'm Flint's friend."

"Boyfriend." Flint clarified quickly. Kurt looked at him, his face pleased and his cheeks a bit pink.

"Oh, well then. Yes, I guess I'm the boyfriend too." Kurt said brightly, thrusting out his hand.

"Mathilde." The nurse smiled, trying not to laugh. Her son Thierry would love to hear about this exchange. He'd had a similar one with her and his first serious boyfriend years back.

"Well, I'll introduce you two and then I'll leave you to it. Do you sing as well as Flint does Kurt?"

"He's way better than me." Flint insisted, cutting off Kurt. The boy rolled his eyes in response.

Mathilde touched her hand gently to Ellen's shoulder and her somewhat glazed eyes tracked across to her face.

"Ellen, these two boys are going to sing for you for a while. Isn't that nice?"

There was a barely there nod but Ellen looked up at Flint and Kurt as Flint pulled out the keyboard and settled into a chair. Kurt slipped behind him, wrapping a hand over Flint's shoulder as Mathilde finished lifting Ellen into a seated position.

"I'll come check in in half an hour." She told them, before bustling out into the hall.

Ellen's gaze had shifted to the window and Kurt squeezed Flint's shoulder to have him look up at him.

"What do you want to sing?"

"Um...how's your jazz repertoire?" Flint said hopefully. Kurt's smile in return made him feel a little bit lighter.

"Are you serious? What kind of diva would I be if I didn't have a stash of Ella available. Come on Louis. Dream a little dream of me?" Flint nodded in relief. He knew this by heart on the piano. He could sing his part without any worry he'd screw up his playing.


"Hanging over a cardboard tree..."

"But it wouldn't be make believe..."

"If you-"

"Believe-"

"In me..." They alternated back and forth easily until Kurt's hand tightened sharply on Flint's shoulder.

"Don't stop playing." Kurt hissed, and although Flint didn't know what was going on, he kept on playing the familiar melody. And then he realized what Kurt had noticed.

Ellen was focused on them, and she was humming along clearly and calmly with the song. Flint's breath caught a little.

It wasn't recognition of him, but god, it was something.

"What the hell are you doing!" Flint and Kurt's heads both snapped over to the doorway.

"Dad?" Flint sputtered, his fingers unintentionally extending the last notes he had played.

"I can't believe..." Paul marched over and picked up the keyboard from Flint's lap, moving to tug the case over it and push it back into his son's arms.

"Home. Now."

Flint glanced from Kurt to his father to his grandmother with a note of panic.

"But- I..."

"You are coming home with me right now young man." Paul said firmly, not even meeting Kurt's eyes. Flint wanted to jump up and yell, ask his dad what the hell he was doing, but he just pressed his mouth shut tightly and turned back to Kurt.

"Are you okay to drive by yourself?"

"I can, of course, but I'm not going to leave you-" Kurt said incredulously.

"Kurt. I want you to go back to Dalton, okay? Please?" Kurt's sigh was fretful.

"Flint..." Kurt picked at a button on Flint's shirt, looking up at him with worry and concern.

"It'll be okay Kurt. I just need to talk to my dad."

Kurt considered this for a minute before giving him a tight nod and leaning in to kiss Flint's cheek.

"Call me if you aren't coming back tonight?" Flint nodded in response to his boyfriend's request.

"Of course. I'll talk to you soon okay?"


The drive home was awkward and icy, and Flint was confused. It wasn't until they got into the house that his father turned around and mouthed helplessly until something spat out.

"What were you thinking!" Paul shouted, pushing his palm over his face in a way that was familiar to Flint.

"What's the big deal? We were just singing." Flint shot back.

"I'm disappointed, Flint. So disappointed in you. I thought we raised you to have more idea of propriety than this."

"What!" Flint clenched his hands in frustration. "I can't believe you."

"And I can't believe you! That is my mother and your grandmother. Where is your respect?"

"What did I even do wrong?" Flint demanded, not really sure he understood what was going on here.

"You brought some boy with you!"

He glared at his father.

"Not some boy. Kurt, Dad. My boyfriend."

Paul shook his head firmly, his finger punctuating his words in the air.

"This is family business. It's undignified and rude to bring a stranger into such a delicate situation Flint."

Flint had always been respectful to his father, but just this once, he didn't hesitate in drawing himself up.

"He's not a stranger."

"I've never met him." Paul countered.

"You haven't been around much in the last little while. That's part of the reason I've been visiting gran so much. She's been sick, and it's been awful, and you weren't there for me! Kurt was." Flint said steadily.

"Flint-"

"No! Dad. He's been here for me. He's the one who just...sits with me...when I come back from Bryant Park. He's the one who talks to me. He's the one who makes it okay that mom and I are the only one's who go anymore, that Vanessa and Danielle can't go, that you won't!" He took a steadying breath, but it didn't entirely do its job. Flint hated that his voice broke over the next words. "I know it's hard for you. But dyou really think its easy for me? Do you know that I go there and play the piano and sing, and she tells me about grandpa almost every single time? Do you think that's easy for me?"

Paul Wilson looked at his son. He was red in the face, but his posture was more a sign of sadness than anger.

"No. I don't." He admitted.

"Dyou know that when she does recognize me, she always asks where you are?" His father was shaking his head at Flint's words.

"Flint..."

"What am I supposed to say Dad? I'm trying to be strong, I'm trying my best to be the man you want me to, but... Sometime she just switches off, you know, and she gets scared, and that scares me."

"I know. God, I know." Paul sighed so deeply it almost sounded painful. He sat down on the edge of the chair, putting his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry. I am. I just don't know how to make this better."

"Will you at least meet Kurt?" Flint jammed his hands into his pockets. "Just meet him. He's really great dad, and he only came with me because he wanted to help."

"I'd like that." Paul said eventually, looking up at his son. "And you are a good man Flint. Becoming one. I do know that."

Flint stared at his dad, not sure where the shaky flush of courage was coming from to tell him this.

"I think I might be falling in love with him."

"Flint-" His father deflated, like he was just waiting for what would be thrown at him next. Flint paced for a moment in earnest, shaking his head before looking up at his father with pleading eyes.

"No. I know you're going to say its just high school, and I don't know what real love even is, but...we...it...it makes me happy like it's real. And sad like it's real. And when it hurts, god, I swear it hurts like its real. How can that not count?"

Flint looked at his father hopefully, like maybe he'd have the answer to this. That he'd still be able to convince him that everything could be solved by his dad.

"I want to make everything okay Flint. I want that for you. I don't even know what the hell to start doing right now."

Flint looked at him. Maybe he couldn't get security. But maybe now he could get support from his father, in a way they hadn't really acknowledged before. So he looked his father in the eyes, in a way he didn't know reminded the man of a time when he had been small and chubby and sticky and so simple.

"Meet Kurt? For me? And... please, please like him? I need you to like him." Flint squeezed his eyes tight for a moment. His mouth moved for a moment more, but he didn't have anything else to say. He needed the parts of his life to mesh. He needed the pieces of school and his parents and Jeff and his sisters and Kurt to all knit together somehow. Because way too often, it felt like if any holes were torn in that safety net, he would fall right through.

"Okay. I'm sure I will." Paul reached out and put his hand over his son's shoulder. "I'm sure."