Blaine Anderson

Possibly the sweetest, most wonderful guy on the kind of guy that's loved by your mother and talks sports and business with your father and makes all your friends care about him. The type of guy that makes you feel worth the world, and supports you through everything. The idiot that would stand up to someone three times his size to make you feel better, who would fail to realize that he loved you for months and kiss you over a casket. I don't have enough words to describe Blaine Anderson. He's charming, sweet, funny, kind, and utterly likeable in every way, not to mention handsome and, yes, hot. All those things are true of Blaine.

Blaine Anderson is my boyfriend, and I love him. I really do. No one else has ever made me feel important like he does, made me feel cherished like he does. His kisses make little butterflies swirl around in my stomach and my palms sweat, and it's every inch the 40s romance that I'd so dreamed of. He likes fashion and musicals, and can quote every line of 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' word-for-word.

He's never pushed me into anything, Blaine hasn't, and I appreciate that. He calls at 9, every night, to talk to me as I do my skin care routine and wish me a good night. I think we could have a future together in New York, Blaine and I. We could handle a year apart, and he dreams of everything Rachel and I do. A little apartment as close to the Broad Way as we can afford. Just the three of us. I would love that.

Everyone has flaws. I know that. Blaine's impulsive, and arrogant sometimes, and wants to be spontaneous after having lived in the cage that is Dalton Academy for years. He's scarred, in his own ways, but that's nothing I can't say of myself.

Blaine is perfect for me. He makes me feel wonderful and beautiful and all these things I've never felt before. All the girls think he's the sweetest, most charming guy they've ever met, and they wished their boyfriends were more like him... or that they had a boyfriend like him.

But... Blaine's not you. I'm not going to write your name. It's already in this journal. Pages and pages devoted to you, just like this one. Pages about Rachel and Quinn, about Santana with hints of Brittany. Notes about what you like, what you hate. Pages dedicated to listing your flaws in the hopes of falling out of love with you.

October 21st, 2008. That was the day I met you. A Tuesday. Puckerman shoved me into a locker, but I didn't even notice his existence. I just noticed you.

September 25th, 2009. The day you joined Glee. The day you noticed me. The day you noticed us all. Mercedes, Artie, Tina, and... must I say it, Rachel.

February 7th, 2009. The Wednesday that you cheated on Quinn. The day you first kissed Rachel. The day that you cemented the hearts in her eyes for all eternity. Am I being dramatic? Perhaps, but it's true.

You must be wondering how I remember all these dates. These days that seem so important to me, but probably mean nothing to him. Actually, considering the fact that you're an inanimate object, you probably aren't wondering anything. But who else can I talk to?

You're completely different from Blaine in every way. I know that. Oh, perhaps I can draw a few similarities. The love of football, the kind heart. But that's about it. You're funny, yes, like him, but your sense of humor is different, earthly and focused on the present, rather than full of references no one but us would understand.

Not only are you close to my mother, but my mother is actually yours. Perhaps I shall begin referring to her as my step-mother, so that when this journal is recovered a thousand years from now in the ruins of our backyard, the people of the future will not think we were backwoods, incestuous hicks.

Is It Really Incest If We're Not Blood-Related? The title of a pamphlet Miss Pillsbury once gave to me. I can't remember why she gave it to me, or perhaps I took it. I certainly wouldn't talk to her about any of this. I remember what's in it, though. Some people argue 'yes', some people argue 'no'. I argue 'no', but not for any scientific reason. I'm not sure I feel about you the way a brother should.

My father loves you. Not quite the way he loves me, but he loves you all the same. You could be his true son, while he thinks of me as more of a daughter. I know that, certainly, I'm not an idiot. Sometimes he doesn't know whether to treat me as the girl I act like, or the boy I ultimately am. I can't blame him.

Getting back to you, you're everything I never thought I wanted. You're kind and sweet and certainly handsome and hot, yes, but not like my boyfriend. You're not the brightest person I've ever met, but it's endearing, rather than annoying. You care more about people than being book-smart.

You're not Puck, the rough, edgy bad-boy with a fantastic body. Yes, I'm willing to admit that Puck has a fantastic body, but he'll never know I think so. You're something entirely different. You're kind of shy about your body, but you have a great one. No, you don't have the abs of Puck, or Sam, or Mike, or even Blaine (I was surprised too), but you're 100% you, and you're hot in your own way.

If you don't believe me... talk to Rachel.

We scream and fight and we haven't always had the most perfect relationship. There are things I don't know about you, and things you'll probably never know about me. We both fall too hard, and falling for you is one of the worst mistakes I've ever made... and something I'll never regret. How is that possible? I don't know either.

Obsessing over your every word and coming undone because of you... it's world-shattering. I cursed your name more times than I whispered how much I loved you as you slept across the room.

Every time you touch me in the most innocent of ways, my skin burns and my heart races. Hugging you is more... well, exciting than making out with Blaine (which is all we've done. I can't bring myself to do more with him). I've never felt as much with Blaine as I have with you. You're just so frustratingly intoxicating.

I love you. I always will. I don't know what's going to happen in the future, with you, and Blaine, and Rachel or Quinn or Santana or whomever, but I will always love you. In a way I will never love Blaine.

Sometimes I wish I could switch you. Blaine would be an amazing brother, protective and loving and a shoulder to cry on. You, I would love more than I ever loved him. But that will never happen, and I've learned to accept that. 'You never forget your first love'.

This entry was supposed to help me fall in love with Blaine. All it did was make me realize that I will never fall out of love with you.

Kurt Elizabeth Hudson

A/N: Drabble due to writer's block. Check. Still have writer's block. Check. Reviews are Love.