Hello, dearies! I had an angsty idea, but as I typed it out it became friendly. Kind of like with Missing Puzzle Piece: my aim was to make it ominous, but it came out fluffy. I was still satisfied with the product, though, as I am with this.

So, AU, definitely. T to be safe, and probably for a future chapter. Yes, you read correctly: future chapter. As in multiple chapters. I'm so proud of myself! *proud tears* Do be warned, I might not update for long periods of time, either because of writers block or being busy. Hope I can make time!

Again, I thank all of my readers for their favorites, reviews, etc.

Disclaimer: I was looking for the deed for Glee, but then Brittany told me Lord Tubbington stole it and gave it to Ryan Murphy. *bows head in shame*

Updateness: This was supposed to be up by 2 PM Eastern Time, except for some reason it wouldn't upload. And I was just talking to a friend, and I checked the file so I could email it to her- and it was completely blank. No worries, I managed to retrieve it, but I almost had a panic attack. Hopefully that won't happen again. Anyways, enjoy!

Sometimes I wish I was a bird. I could fly high and free, among my dreams. I always did dream high.

I could be away from my tormentors. They say that the sky's the limit. With wings, I could reach that.

One day I realized the closest I could be to flying was up a tree, hands reaching towards the sky. I could close my eyes and feel the clouds around me. So I started driving around, looking for a bunch of trees. I got lucky one afternoon and found a forest. Whenever I got angry, or sad, or lonely, I would visit the forest and climb a tree, tasting the freedom for the short amount of time I was allotted.

But that day was different.

The drive to the forest was normal. The trees were still just as I had memorized them. I started walking around, feeling the trunks of known trees.

I had stopped at a new tree. The bark was foreign under my fingertips. This would be my tree for the next hour or so, before I returned it to the animals.

I stepped back, and, with a running start, managed to run a few feet up the trunk, grabbing onto a low branch. Using the muscles I had developed as a Cheerio (and as an avid tree-climber), I lifted myself up, then climbed a few branches higher before settling down in a cradle where two branches met the base of the tree.

But as I leaned against the bark of the trunk, I felt a small hollow behind me. I swiveled cautiously, not wanting to fall.

There was a leather bound book, with a pen attached to the side.

Curiosity filled me, and I carefully picked up the book and brought it into my lap. It was black leather, with a small loop with a pen fitted snuggly inside of it. I opened to the first page.

It was handwritten. Was it…?

Unable to stop myself, I began to read.

Dear Journal,

I feel kind of ridiculous writing this. I mean, I'm a 17 year old guy! Admittedly gay, but still.

That's… interesting.

I guess if you're going to be my listening ear (so to speak, seeing as you can't exactly listen or reply) I should introduce myself. My name is Blaine Everett Anderson. I am a senior at Dalton Academy for boys, and lead soloist of our show choir, the Warblers. I'm gay as a rainbow, but (not to be conceited) several girls have mistaken me as… well, straight. I think you understand.

Now, why did I buy this journal? I honestly have no idea. I guess you'll help me get my thoughts out, help me sort through things.

Okay, maybe I do have a slight idea of why I'm writing. The boys at my school all have sticks up their asses. They're so… formal. For example, one of my best friends, Wes, is a councilman for the Warblers. He is very strict regarding rules, and never seems to actually have fun. I honestly have no idea how his girlfriend can stand him. And he's not even the worst case.

I do believe I'm one of the only people at the school that isn't preppy and goes around reporting people for running in the hallways. Okay, maybe Jeff and Nick are okay. Well, not exactly okay, more like… insane. And that's probably what keeps them from succumbing to the stiffness that is Dalton.

Don't get me wrong, I love it here. Zero-tolerance bullying policy, generally accepting student body… still, I'm missing something.

Hey, I just realized something! Even though Dalton seems an ideal haven for people seeking a safe environment, I guess the tuition is kind of steep. So me, Jeff, and Nick are the only kids that have transferred from public school for… difficulties for being homosexual. The rest have been going to private school since they could talk. This makes me wonder exactly where they went to make them like this.

Well, that's one mystery solved by writing on your pages! I guess I'll continue pouring my soul into you. I have to go now, before anyone gets suspicious.

Until next time, Blaine

I slid the pen out of the loop, twirling it between my fingers. Finally, I pressed the pen-point onto the creamy sheet. No turning back now.

Dear Blaine,

Before you get hysterical and think you're going insane, no, I am not your journal. Your journal probably could never have as fabulous handwriting as I do, anyways.

You're probably wondering how I found your book. Well, normally I climb trees when I'm upset, and I've been climbing different trees here for about a month now. By chance I leaned against the hollow in this tree, revealing your book.

Honestly, I'm surprised that there's another gay teen in Ohio. Lima isn't exactly a place where people are accepting. But maybe I'm wrong, since I drove at least an hour and a half to get here.

Before I continue, I guess it would be fair to introduce myself, as you've done to me (unknowingly, but still.). My name is Kurt Hummel. I'm 16 and a junior at William McKinley High, where the favorite hobby of the jocks is throwing me in the dumpster. I am probably the most flamboyantly gay person you will ever meet. I am the countertenor of the glee club, New Directions.

Now, back to addressing your problems: your school seems very... stiff. I would probably go insane if I was you. I suggest hanging out with Nick and Jeff more. The worst you can get is crazy, which is better than being bored to death. Or at least, that's what I think, but then again, I wouldn't know, since all of New Directions seem to have their quirks. But I'm still sane, for the most part, so try it out.

Now, I don't really have much more to say, but I'll probably be writing back to you. I come here almost every day, anyways.

Until next time, Kurt

I signed my name with a flourish and surveyed my work. Satisfied, I replaced the pen, and set the journal back into it's hollow. As I slid out of the tree, I had one thought: this could be fun.

*fist pump* Hello productivity! (Well, for this chapter. I tried writing chapter 2 and hit a rut. Oh well, we'll see how it turns out.)

Also: a reviewer to one of my stories told me that they found the link on Muchacha10's (Muchacha11 on tumblr) page. I started hyperventilating, but please, don't worry about me. Minor to moderate hyperventilation is a common occurrence for me when I read Klaine fics. So, here's a shout-out to Muchacha10 because I practically worship her Klaine art. Seriously, people, go check her out on deviantart (to steal a quote from Chris Colfer: "Check me out? Oh, that's suggestive.").

Also, as mentioned previously, this started out trying to be an angst story. Well, for all of you angst fans, I will follow through with this stories original intention, in a one shot.

So, see you people in chapter 2! -MusicalEscape