Spring had come early to Lima, Ohio. Against the backdrop of a brilliant blue sky, a chilly restorative wind blew. The kind of wind that swept away the last dregs of winter and evoked in the inhabitants of the area a feeling of hope.
A feeling of new beginnings.
Kurt knew that his first day back at McKinley was going to be momentous. He'd run the gamut of emotions as he prepared for this day. Excitement, fear, anticipation, nostalgia, and even…glee.
What he hadn't expected to feel was confused…and intrigued.
Yet it was a strange cocktail of these two intense emotions that coursed through his body as he leaned next to his locker at the end of his first day, the final bell ringing in his ears
He was confused at how good it felt to be back. How safe. He'd passed by the football team on several occasions and; though he'd braced for an attack, they hadn't so much as looked in his direction, much less slushied him or shoved him against the lockers.
Normally, Kurt did not appreciate being ignored. He prided himself on standing out from the crowd. But, in the case of the Neanderthal jocks at this school, being ignored was the best thing since sliced bread. He didn't understand what had changed, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, that's for sure
Finding peace in his former place of torment was strange. It left him exhilarated, apprehensive, and...well, confused.
The intrigue he felt was born from what had fallen to the floor when he opened his locker. A plain white envelope, with his name scrawled across the front.
Picking it up carefully by the edge (one didn't want to have too much contact with these hallway floors. Lord only knew how often they were cleaned) Kurt eased his thumb under the flap and pulled the envelope open.
A single spaced, neatly typed letter was carefully folded within. Eyes narrowed, and with a slight frown of dread, Kurt scanned the carefully typed words.
You have touched me more profoundly than I thought even you could have touched me - my heart was full when you came here today.
Henceforward I am yours for everything.
The curiosity that had been burning in his chest changed to warmth in an instant. Never before had Kurt received a love letter. And a love letter was; unquestionably, what he held in his hands.
There was no signature, no clue as to who had written the profoundly touching words.
Chest heaving, Kurt clenched the paper to his heart. He'd expected a lot of things when he came back to McKinley.
A secret admirer wasn't one of them.
A week later
7 days had passed since "that day".
"That day" was how Kurt had come to think of his first day back at school.
In those seven days, his entire world seemed to have turned upside down. Kurt couldn't believe that he was attending the same high school he'd run from those months ago.
He hadn't been attacked once. He hadn't even heard a single muttered homophobic slur. Not even from Karofsky. On the rare occasions he'd glimpsed his former bully, he hadn't made eye contact with Kurt, or he'd nodded civilly to Kurt in passing.
Though he hadn't let down his guard mentally, gradually Kurt's knee jerk reactions of panic, racing heart, and braced body began to relax.
Glee Club had been another surprise. He'd fit right back in, almost as if he'd never left. Already he was fighting Rachel for solos, sleeping over at Mercedes and trading nail polish with Brittany. Although if she didn't get out of her wet and wild 'raging red' phase, he might be looking for another partner in fashion.
Seeing his friends and feeling safe in his school had been immeasurably healing for Kurt. He felt like he was finally completely returning to his old, confident, happy self. He was out of his uniform, able to express himself in the clothes he wore. He wasn't just harmonizing in the back like when he'd been part of the Warblers; he was getting solo lines, and even solo songs.
Don't kid yourself, Kurt chided himself. There was one thing that was contributing to his happiness above all others.
Every single day of the 5 days he had been at school, he had received one. They arrived in the same way each time, neatly folded into plain white envelopes. Typed, and unsigned, slipped into his locker sometime between lunch and the final bell.
Each one was more poetic and poignant than the last.
Kurt closed his eyes, letting the words of the letters flow through his mind.
Tuesday and Wednesday's letters had touched his heart with their unbearable sweetness.
You are my only love.
You have me completely in your power.
I know and feel that if I am to be anything fine and noble in the future I shall do so only by listening at the doors of your heart.
I would like to go through life side by side with you, telling you more and more until we grew to be one being together.
I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in you that which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul.
Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour and cease to love it as speedily; but the soul one must learn to know.
Thursday and Friday's letter's had spoken to his soul
Dearest if you are as fond of me as I am of you...nothing human could keep us long apart.
This last week has seemed an eternity tome; Oh, I would give my soul for another of those days (I dreamed) we had together not long ago...
My first and only love...Believe me ever to be
Yrs devotedly and lovingly
Friday's hadn't been addressed as all the others, instead it read simply:
My one and only Kurt, apart from you there is no joy; away from you, the world is a desert where I am alone and cannot open my heart.
You have taken more than my soul; you are the one thought of my life.
At first Kurt had kept the letters to himself, wrapped up in a pink ribbon, stashed beneath his pillow. (This conveniently allowed him to read them about a hundred times before he fell asleep at night)
However, on Friday afternoon he broke. He was too giddy and; he reasoned, Mercedes could keep a secret. Grabbing the ribbon bound stack, he headed for her house. It was sleepover night, and he was going to get a second opinion and some direction.
Within 12 hours the entire Glee Club had seen the letters. Rumor has it that there were even copies circulating somewhere between Rachel's house and Puckerman's "awesome pick up lines" binder. (The only subject he bothered keeping a binder for)
What had started out as a confession to one friend on Friday night had turned into the Glee Club's weekend investigation.
Kurt had told Mercedes. Who; after cooing and sighing over the letter's contents, had insisted that they needed to "call in the big guns".
Within thirty minutes, all of the girls from Glee, clad in their pajamas (which ranged from adorable: Brittany's kitten footy pjs', to slutty: Santana's fur trimmed lingerie) were crowded around Mercedes bed, passing the letters around. The shrieked, they cried, they "oh my gosh''d" and "Oh, so cute'd" so many times Kurt began to feel like he'd stepped into an alternate universe where they were all at some kind of baby shower or something equally estrogen centric.
The next hour had been spent in fervent debate about the author of the letters. Each element, from the font, the type of envelope, and the handwriting on the envelopes had been analyzed. Names; both female and male, had been tossed around, discussed, and either dismissed or added to what Rachel had titled "Our list of Suspects".
Things went from just plain crazy to absolutely insane when Mercedes and Rachel, without Kurt's knowledge, had called an emergency meeting of the entire Glee Club at Mercedes the next morning. Mercedes' mom made about a hundred waffles as the entire Glee Club shoved in around their long dining room table and Kurt was subjected to the male perspective on his love letters.
Puckerman had immediately declared Kurt's secret admirer a girl, as "no man writes crap like that".
This had spurred Rachel to announce that; after some research, she had discovered that each letter was actually a quote from a famous love letter- all written by men. (Except the first, which was part of a letter written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning to her husband)
While the girls had trilled with delight at this information, declaring the letter writer both "romantic" and "original", the boys had been a little more dubious. Puckerman reiterated his suggestion that Kurt had a female admirer, stating "No man is going to look up love letter crap like that".
Rachel said she thought the letter writer was thief, stealing other people's sentiments.
Brittany wanted to know why Elizabeth Barrett Browning was writing her husband letters, instead of just texting him.
Finn was just impressed, and stated that he was 'gender neutral".
Santana and Tina voiced their opinion that who ever it was had to be "butt ugly" and that was why they were hiding behind letters.
Mercedes ended the debate by cutting off everyone's waffle supply and stating, "Well, whoever it is, he or she loves Kurt. This makes them pretty cool".
Kurt should have known it wouldn't end there. The glee Club was nothing if not dramatic. Minutes after walking in on Monday morning, Sam had grabbed him, pulling him into the choir room, insisting that he needed to explain "The Plan" to him. This was why he was hiding in the janitor's closet across from his own locker, skipping all of his afternoon classes.
God, it smelled like a combination of bleach and urine in this tiny room, and Kurt was starting to feel light headed.
Romance is dead, Kurt thought, as he held his handkerchief closer to his nose and peered out of the small slotted vent. He could barely see his locker, but he knew that; if he missed it, various members of the Glee Club were stationed around the hall, all skipping class, all trying to get a positive ID on "Romeo", as they had fondly taken to calling the letter writer.
A few minutes later, eyes aching from peering through the vent for the better part of an hour, Kurt was ready to admit defeat. Why was he even doing this? He knew that the letter writer would come forward eventually. Sure, patience wasn't something he was known for, but every minute in this foul closet was convincing him more strongly that patience was the better path on this issue.
Hand on the knob, he was a second from pushing the door open when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone was walking down the hall in the middle of class! This is it!
Breath held, eyes watering from bleach fumes, Kurt prepared to look out and see the person who had set fire to his heart in only a week.
What he saw caused his jaw to drop. Peering nervously in both directions, the figure of a small girl moved towards his locker. With one last look, she reached into her pocket, withdrawing a plain white envelope. Even through the vent, Kurt could see his name scrawled in the familiar hand writing.
Becky Jackson pushed the envelope into his locker, smiled her sweet smile, and raced off down the hall.
Oh my gosh. Kurt reeled back, banging into the mop and mop bucket.
Becky Jackson was his secret admirer.