Kurt can't help himself. As he clings to the wall, bracing for the inevitable beating, visions invade his mind – visions of a hero. Someone tall and muscular, masked and noble; a protector of the weak and bullied.

He feels tears well up in his eyes as he hisses at the jocks, telling them to accept him or hit him, for he was never going to change. The thugs just laugh.

And then he appears. Kurt blinks once, twice, three times, certain that he's hallucinating. He's there. Him.

"You're not hitting anyone."

"Wha-?" The two thugs who've cornered Kurt turn, clenching their fists. Kurt's mouth falls open as his deepest, darkest (though maybe not wildest) fantasy stands before him. He is here, tall and strong, clad in a long, red something (he hears the word "shower-curtain" thrown around). Dear God, he's even masked. Kurt's tear-stained cheeks grow wetter.

The small boy barely hears a word from his mouth. He's too busy waging an internal war – his mind can't forget the heinous things he said, but his heart is screaming for forgiveness, shouting mantras of gratitude to the newfound hero. He feels weak, and wonders vaguely if Mercedes had a bedazzler in her purse, as some of his rhinestones would surely fall off if he fainted.

He holds his head high as vicious words are thrown his way – freak, fag, to name a few. He stays calm as he threatens the thugs. He – that stupid, selfish, amazingly adorable Finn Hudson – looks at Kurt. Looks at him. He doesn't awkwardly stare at the wall behind Kurt or avoid the gay boy's gaze as he so often does. Finn looks at Kurt with apology and shame in his eyes, and suddenly the world seems to shift.

As the thugs start towards Finn, an incredibly primal lust for violence in their eyes, the entirety of the glee club appears, prepared to fight the jocks. That stupid, heroic boy is saying something, something about being different and having pride about it – Kurt's own personal theme for many months now – and the thugs skulk off, cracking knuckles and grinding teeth.

The small boy realizes that his fantasy is over, that his own superhero has, in fact, saved him, and now he has woken up from that dream. It's over, and the sudden shock of reality to his mind wakes him from his subdued reverie. He walks over to the group tentatively, meeting Finn's eye.

Schuester makes a well-timed entrance, blathering on about life lessons and other teacher crap. Kurt pays no attention to his mentor; seeing his hero up close is just odd – disconcerting. For one, Finn "straighter-than-a-board" Hudson is wearing a dress. Two, well, it's made from a shower curtain. Creative under his time constraints, sure, but hopefully he thought to clean it before using it in his costume. Though, knowing Finn, he didn't.

And third…he looks…strange. No, not because the somewhat-shy football player is in a dress, but because Finn is finally giving up on his image. He stands there with a confidence and appreciation of self-worth that Kurt has never seen radiate from the boy before. This isn't the Finn who threw him into dumpsters. This isn't the Finn who refused to share a room with the gay boy. This isn't the Finn who called him a fag. This is the true Finn Hudson, the hero of the freaks, protector of the weak and nerdy.

The group walks back towards the choir room, laughing at their odd appearances and celebrating their minor victory against the thugs that ran the school. Kurt and Finn both linger towards the back, staring awkwardly ahead. Just because Finn gave some speech about learning and truly being sorry about his harsh words doesn't mean everything's okay between the two nearly-step-brothers.

But Kurt just can't help himself. Finn's costume is so shiny, the smaller boy reaches out to touch it, curious to see if he had actually cleaned the shower curtain beforehand.

Finn turns his head at the touch, and Kurt removes his hand in an instant, remembering the boundaries between him and the football player. He looks down, flushing a little.

But Finn just smiles, half in apology, half in a newfound adoration for his nearly-step-brother. Instead of flinching away, as Old Finn would have done, he reaches out and touches Kurt's own silvery costume. The small boy looks up in surprise, then smiles.

Finn's eyes widen childishly, as he realizes how shiny and squishy the shoulder pads are, and Kurt nearly laughs out loud. Though this New Finn is a defender of the gleeks, he is still only sixteen, still a little immature. But that just adds to Kurt's love for the boy – both romantically and brotherly.

They are the last to leave the choir room that evening, and together they walk in a comfortable silence. They both know that Finn faces trouble when they return home, and Kurt braces himself for the inevitable fight that will break out. He knows he can't completely forgive the jock for his hurtful words, not just yet, but he knows that Finn doesn't deserve to get kicked out from the Hummel household (especially since that means losing Carole too, and Kurt's father doesn't deserve that either).

As they go their separate ways to their cars, Kurt can't help admiring Finn one last time before they leave. In the dimming, golden light of dusk, the tall boy is silhouetted beautifully, glowing red as he fumbles with his car keys.

So Finn will never love Kurt the way Kurt loves him – the small boy is starting to accept this. But even though they'll never be more than friends, Kurt will always have his dreams. And tonight, they'll star a certain dark-haired hero, masked, caped, and noble.

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