"Blaine, if you pulled me out of class to try and convince me your rapping has improved, I'm about to be very upset."

His boyfriend shook his head, gesturing to a single stool on stage. Kurt obliged, sliding onto it before giving a puzzled look to Blaine, who had moved in front of him.

"I'm thinking about auditioning for the solo at Regionals."

Kurt smiled.

Of course.

"And, uh," Blaine stammered, smiling like a goof at Kurt. "Well you're my boyfriend. And amazing at critique."

Kurt nodded. The fact that the two of them were dating wouldn't stop him from critiquing. Nor has it ever stopped him from scolding Blaine for his sudden affinity for highwaters and ridiculously patterned bowties.

And if he had to be honest, he did have a far better sense of tone than his counterpart. Not that Blaine was bad, Kurt simply had more experience, and a far more extensive range. Kurt actually liked Blaine's singing (note, that does not including rapping of any sort), no matter how numerous the performances.

And how numerous they in fact were.

At any rate, Kurt crossed his legs, beaming at his boyfriend who had now taken center stage. The band started up with something Kurt had not heard, causing him to tilt his head in interest.

Blaine flashed one last smile before he began singing.

"Life's too short to even care at all, ooh
I'm losing my mind losing my mind losing control
These fishes in the sea they're staring at me, oh oh
Oh oh oh oh
A wet world aches for a beat of a drum
Ooh"

This was not happening. He was still home. It was still Tuesday morning. He hadn't left for school. He still had the letter. He hadn't done the most idiotic and selfish thing he's ever done in his life.

But it wasn't Tuesday.

Dave threw open the medicine cabinet.

"If I could find a way to see this straight

I'd run away
To some fortune that I should have found by now
I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down, come down."

Kurt watched in awe as Blaine continued singing, practically shining with confidence. It had always inspired Kurt, the way Blaine was so proud of himself. It often crossed his mind that his boyfriend was conceited, but Kurt was sure to push that thought aside as soon as it entered his mind. For who was Kurt to talk about pulling focus?

Head bobbing to the tune, Kurt continued smiling until he realized he wasn't even entirely paying attention. He was supposed to give critique afterwards. How could he do that when a full stanza had blown right over his head?

"And so I run to the things they said could restore me
Restore life the way it should be
I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down"

Kurt instantly decided that this sounded nearly identical to any other performance Blaine has done, and knew exactly what to say when Blaine had finished. Being completely honest, Blaine had a very monotonous voice. A never changing flow of soft yet popstar-boyband faux charm. It was amazing, just incredibly plain.

But it was amazing, and he did love the boy, hobbit sized or not.

And then Kurt lost focus.

Blaine's voice went silent; his mouth continued moving, the band continued playing.

But Kurt couldn't hear any of it.

Instead, another voice rang in the back of his head. His own, yet...

I think I love you.

Tylenol and his old pain medication.

That's what most people did, right? Shy from hanging themselves, or putting a bullet through their head. This was painless.

Not that he deserved anything less than pain, for what he's done. How could he have been so naive? So completely stupid? What he did to him in the past, and then thinking something had changed? It would never change.

Especially after now.

And all because of this stupid hope, his life was over. These things were supposed to be hard to do. Turns out with the right timing, all that is complete bullshit when your teammate outs you in the middle of practice.

So maybe he deserved it. He deserved the humiliation. The bruises now throbbing across his face and sides. The possibly broken nose. The copper taste in his mouth.

He was selfish to think Kurt Hummel would ever love him.

But he was selfish to think he deserved to escape from this.

Won't feel guilty after I'm gone.

Dave opened the cap.

"Life's too short to even care at all, oh

I'm losing my mind losing my mind losing control"

It wouldn't stop.

"If I could find a way to see this straight
I'd run away
To some fortune that I should have found by now"

He remembers getting the first card. There was no one other than Blaine on his mind. The two of them hadn't said a words since Kurt last visited. But that card.

Kurt thought the reason Blaine didn't want to talk was because he was planning this extravagant thing. The love letters. Cheesy, but...

Romantic.

True love.

Kurt's own words echoed in his head. they have been, for many nights. Every time he wants to glance at his bedside clock, the box is there. He should have thrown it away. Or atleast put it somewhere else. The kitchen, where Finn or Sam would have immediately dove into it.

Instead, he lies there at night, the box screaming at him.

I hated who I was.

You've helped me so much.

There you were.

Hazel eyes were burned into his brain.

"So I run to the things they said could restore me
Restore life the way it should be
I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down"

Why wouldn't this end? The constant onslaught of voices, memories, feelings.

More feelings than he'd ever had to deal with.

And honestly it didn't make sense. He couldn't get the conversation out of his mind.

He didn't know what he was talking about.

He couldn't love Kurt. They'd barely spoken. It was obviously confusion with lust, or just an reason for him to accept himself.

But the eyes.

Not during the conversation at the table.

There was something there. More than a desperate attempt to have a reason to accept himself. No, Kurt knew exactly what it was.

The look of utter adoration, the knowing that whoever they are focused on, they are the only thing that matters at that very moment. Whatever is in front of those eyes, the holder never wanted to see leave. Never wanted to forget. Never want to hurt. That look was everything Kurt had ever wanted to receive.

Love.

And Kurt hadn't seen it before that night.

"One more spoon of cough syrup now..."

The stool clattered against the stage, tipped over in an escape for the theater door.

And at that moment, mixed with the calls of his name behind him as he raced up the aisle, echoed the one thing Kurt knew was none other than the truth.

I could love you.