Hedley, a Glee fiction

I do not own Glee or the Hedley lyrics. Remember to review!

I've had drinks thrown my way, and barely escaped with my life.-Been There, Done That

Every feeling has a color. Happy is yellow. Calm is blue.

Despair, like you're falling down a flight of stairs and when you hit the landing someone reaches out their hand and then kicks you down the next flight when you are trying to find your feet?

Today that feeling is rather purple. Like the slushie dripping down his face. Down his cheek, down his neck onto the brand new white tee shirt that he wonders why he even bothered to buy. A chunk falls from his forehead, dropping down his shirt. It feels cold, and the despair.

He feels purple.

It stains his shirt like a tie dye made by an insane four year old. It is the least bit attractive. He rushes to the bathroom. There he tries to get the stain out before it sets. His shirt rises above his hips. Then he sees more purple.

But it's not more slushie.

It's bruises, a parade marching around his side. But it's not parade, because he is not celebrating. There is nothing to celebrate.

Just another day to barely make it by.

I'm so tired of getting up off the floor, I won't take this anymore.-Brave New World

You can blame your tears on the rain as you traverse the parking lot to your car. You can blame you tears on the water coming down from the shower as you scrub your body clean of the dirt, never the memories.

In the middle of the hallway there is nothing to blame your tears on. Especially when everybody knows that you didn't poke your eye changing your contacts. Your vision is twenty twenty. Well maybe not right now, but the tears falling make it hard to see. The blurry voices pass by and laugh.

They're laughing at you. You can't see the pointed fingers and pointed glares. But your heart is breaking like an iceberg. And nobody is there to hear it crack.

He's felt this feeling too many times. He knows he should rummage through his bag to find something to wipe his nose with. A tissue, a napkin. All he can find is his math homework, and he'd prefer not to blow into a series of fractions and triangles.

He hears footsteps approaching. They aren't hurried like the others. They're timid, and stop in front of his feet. He looks up to see what appears to be Rachel Berry. He's not sure, but the he can recognize the pack of tissues in front of him and doesn't hesitate to take one.

It is Rachel Berry, and this time she's offering her hand. He accepts it and stands. It's odd, finding comfort in her. She leads him to the choir room and they sing a duet. She doesn't question the tears, and doesn't have to.

Everyone knows. The whole school knows. None of them care.

She cares.

And if the stars burn out of the sky and your heart lost it's light just never let me go.-Hiding Place

White. The room is white and there aren't any dust bunnies living in the corner. There's no cobwebs on the ceiling, no eight legged creatures sneaking about. The only dirt he can see is what is under his step brother's nails. Yet the entire situation feels so dirty. To be here, trapped in a hospital. Sure the door is open, and there's no secret password he needs to leave. At any minute he can get up, go home.

He looks over to his father whose eyes are still shut. He can't go home.

Friends have prayed, despite his request to go this on his own. Inside it's killing him, even though he's not the one to almost die. He's so lonely, surrounded by his friends. At one point he's politely kicked out by the nurse. He steps into the cool October air. The wind whips around him and he wishes it would whisk him away.

Mercedes convinces him to attend her church, and he wonders why he agreed to such a thing. He wishes he was at his side. If only he could hold his hand, feel his breath, hear his name.

When his father finally, finally, wakes up he takes his hand and refuses to let go.

Everything starts to look a little brighter after that.

It's a great big world and you'll see it could pass you by at light speed. -One Life

Excuse him if the following sounds a bit ludicrous, but in an instant, one speck in the history of the world, he realized that it wasn't such a small world after all. It wasn't Lima, Ohio, the world. It wasn't just McKinley High, his dad's garage and his bedroom. It was Ohio, and America, home of the free and brave. And for once, he felt free. For once, he felt brave.

Except round here at Dalton Academy, it's not called being brave. It's called having courage.

It's meeting Blaine Anderson and realizing that he doesn't need to search the great big world to find someone like him. Someone that likes boys, and is one.

Someone who has been where he has been and can love him. Which is getting ahead of himself, considering he just met this friendly stranger. But the world has grown so much, all in a short matter of time and it feels like the possibilities are endless. There are possibilities at every coordinate of the earth. And he's not sure how many of those there are, but he's pretty sure there are a lot.

There's a possibility out there, he's going to say that it's 145 degrees West, 37 degrees North. Somewhere deep in the Pacific Ocean, right in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. One that says his bully and tormentor is really a closet gay and is going to kiss him when he confronts him.

That possibility is a Styrofoam cup. A cup that can not be destroyed. It's a waste to humanity, that Styrofoam cup.

As his mouth is being attacked be this savage monster, he doesn't have time to think about the cup.

All he can think about is how badly he wants to slap him and run far away.

He doesn't know where to run.

Me I'm used to being tired and bloody, but you believed that I could be somebody. You put your world on hold for me, gave away to follow failure through the fire.-For the Nights I can't Remember

For some, lunch is peanut butter and jelly with an apple and carton of skim milk. For others it's steak and honey glazed carrots, potatoes that are in such a perfect circle you know that you paid an extra two dollars for some chef to squeeze it into a cookie cutter. Today lunch is grilled cheese with tomato. There's a glass of water, with a convenient bendy straw that spins between his fingers. And there's a huge side order of disgust and horror. Blaine reaches a hand across the table to stop his nervous twirling.

He looks up and their eyes connect. He reminds himself it is not a date.

Even if his dining partner skipped school to comfort him after knowing him for less than a week. Come to think of, he's missing school too. He knows he'll have to make up some sort of excuse later, not that anybody will ask. If anything, Puck will ask where he was when he realizes he needs to find someone else to feed him answers in class. Mercedes will notice when he isn't at his locker waiting to walk with her to Glee. He'd say he has a good hour or two to be missing.

And if he spends the entire hour with Blaine's hand still holding his, he is more than okay with that.

His face turns a rosy pink. Blaine retracts his hand back to his plate. "Sorry, it's just, you should eat your sandwich before it goes cold."

He shrugs, picking it up off the plate. He remembers the one night when there was a thunder storm and he was scared and his mom sat down with him and a bowl of mac n'cheese. It melted in his mouth, and still does. The sandwich tears easily and he finds himself going for a second bite instead of wiping the grease off his fingers.

He takes his time to swallow and find the right words. He only comes up with two.

"Thank you."

Two words was all he needed.

Don't settle for the cold and rain, it's not too late to start again. Find a way to smile and never let it get away.-Never too Late

The rain pitter patters down, but it isn't cold. It isn't depressing. It's fun and uplifting and Holly Holiday. There are spinning umbrellas, and he's honestly surprised that nobody has managed to clock anybody in the face with one. Especially with Finn's lack of coordination when it comes to dancing.

Never had he thought he'd have the opportunity to meet someone like Blaine. Now that he has, he's not letting it go. These outings, because as much as he'd like, they aren't dates, keep him moving. Besides, with Mercedes focusing her energy on fighting Sue about tots instead of being his best friend, he needs somebody to keep him sane. Nobody in New Directions is sane. The number has ended, and the boys have gotten themselves into a water war. The girls shriek from the sidelines, being tugged in as armor. If that isn't proof, he doesn't know what is.

He sneaks away to fish his phone out of his bag. Somebody notices, and he has to use his umbrella as a shield against the water. He has a message and wanders farther away to listen to it.

"Hi Kurt. Uh, this is Blaine. I was wondering if you wanted to maybe possibly get together this weekend." Snickering filled the background. He heard a thud, like someone had been smacked in the stomach. The noise died down. "Call me." The beginnings of a wolf whistle are cut off.

He looks to his own friends, who have engaged in full on battle, with Miss Holiday fighting back just as hard. He dials the number, which he has already memorized forward and backward (not that there was a use for that) and waits for him to pick up.

And if you question all that you see, remember you always got a friend in me.-Friends

He's the third person on the bus, right after Wes and David. They shove themselves into the first seat behind the driver. He picks the seat behind them. He immediately regrets it, seeing the black hump on the floor. It must have some sort of purpose, storing wires or something. Right now the only purpose it has disrupting him. He props his feet up on it and his knees greet his chest.

A few people pass. Nick and Jeff try to escape to the back seat before getting corralled back up front. They take the farthest seat possible. Blaine boards the school bus and heads straight toward him. He scoots in to let some Warblers pass.

"Mind if I sit here?" Kurt gestures his approval with a wave of his hand. He sits down next to him.

"Is there some sort of Warbler bus tradition I should know about?" He stretches into the seat, trying to separate his knees from his chest. Blaine notices his discomfort.

"Wes will make us do warm-ups about ten minutes from the sight. So you and I should probably trade places so you can properly breathe without knocking yourself in the lung." His hand is warm on Kurt's knee, and he lets it linger there as he pretends to be contemplating what had been said. He agrees, and Blaine glides over him, giving him a delightful view of his backside that he can't enjoy with Trent watching across the aisle. He gets out from underneath him. Blaine's knees don't come near his chest like Kurt's. He glances out the window to see two squirrels playing with each other. He points them out to Kurt.

The squirrel on the left passes the other a nut. "Aww, they're friends."

He smiled at Blaine and offered him a piece of candy from his pocket.

"Aww, they're friends." Wes cooed from over the seat.

He wasn't looking at the squirrels.

It's you and it's me and that's all we'll ever need.- Nine Shades of Red

The rest of the room is empty. The only company he has are the poinsettias surrounding him. That, and the book he's supposed to be reading until Blaine comes in. Then all attention is lost, because please, it's him, and the book is left for the better company of actual human touch.

Well, almost touch, considering when he said "I'll hold your hands" they hovered a good couple inches over his.

Wait, never mind, shoulders touched. Actually, more like the entire right side of his body, which sent happy tingles through him.

It's Kurt and Blaine, Blaine and Kurt. Nothing is missing. Maybe a kiss, seeing how he just leaned in with a look on his face that screamed for him to do so. He was such a flirt. At least around him he was. It's not like he observes his every move. For all he knows he has secret midnight rendezvouses with an eighteen year old sex god that reeks of manhood.

He shakes the idea from his head, because although it's been all of two months, he's not stupid, and knows Blaine. He knows that smile that is telling him he's better than that girl will ever be. He knows that darned tie that he always watches him loosen before lunch to make room to swallow.

He knows that Blaine is oblivious to what exactly just happened, and how even after singing a song about date rape he can't see how hot the room got with the passion between the two of them.

He wants to be more than friends.

You take my heart and you make it even. I'll be your strong side.-Amazing

It's not that his heart was broken per se, but there was a definite crack. Kurt's heart on the other hand, was breaking. There was a much larger cleave with a dagger wedged inside, threatening to tear his heart in two. They move up in line as Blaine comments in disgust at the decor around them.

The discussion takes a wild turn, and Blaine finds himself agreeing that he'll be Billy Crystal. That's what he's called when they order coffee. More like Kurt orders for the both of them, because he knows his coffee order. His own parents can't remember that he prefers grape suckers over cherry and he knows his coffee order. And his parents have known him far longer. It's slightly upsetting and strangely comforting at the same time.

He listens to Operation Breadstix as he sips at his coffee. He somehow convinces Wes to adopt the idea later that afternoon over the phone. He hustles to make arrangements, excited to not be sulking over a carton of Rocky Road on Valentine's Day. It's not a date. It could have been, but instead it's him flirting with Kurt anyway as they perform some good old fashioned love songs.

He takes one look into his eyes and feels his heart slowly healing.

He can feel it thumping against his chest, faster than before.

He blames it on the adrenaline.

We got the noise, no way to silence it. Don't let them block out your voice,we're sick and tired of it.- Bullet For Your Dreams

It was like a train wreck. He couldn't pull his eyes away, no matter how badly he wanted to. And he wanted to. Badly.

He had managed to drag Blaine back home with him. He offered him a toothbrush. He squeezed an over zealous amount of toothpaste onto it. He helped him remove most of the stench of alcohol (and hopefully all things Rachel). He set him on his bed and returned to the bathroom. He picked up his toothbrush still sitting on the counter. The same toothbrush he had lent Blaine without a second thought.

He was now having second thoughts. And third and fourth thoughts.

Part of him wanted to know what the brush tasted like. He suspected toothpaste. But what else? Tonight he'd say booze. Any other night he wouldn't know. Coffee? Peppermints? Garlic and onions?

He was really hoping that it wasn't that last one.

The other part of him thought of how Blaine's tongue was all over the bristles, and how if he brushes his tongue clean it'd be like their tongues brushing over each other.

His teeth didn't get brushed that night.

Now he's in bed lying next to him, trying not to touch him. It's getting increasingly harder as an arm reaches out for him, bringing him in. It drags him closer and he cozies up his drunken friend. His drunken friend who smells like his toothpaste and is breathing right into his ear.

He's never had a better sleep.

It's me I see in you and I won't forget how far we've gone.-Can't Go Back

In the blink of an eye so much can happen. He had gone from watching Blaine sing Misery with Pavarotti, to calling him out on being Blaine and the Pips, again with Pavarotti, to no Pavarotti. His bird, his caged bird died beside him. It wasn't the same as when his mother passed. There was the same pang in his heart, the same tears singing to Beatles music. The bird may have been only a small part of his life, but he was his friend.

Blaine sees the shining eyes and black outfit. His heart goes out to Kurt who leads the rest of them in song. He wants to sing along, he wants to prove he can be a Pip.

He wants to curl up in a ball with Kurt and hold him until his world stops hurting. Until the pain subsides and he's certain nobody will hurt him again. He can't do anything but sit and stare. Or give up his solo. So when he proposes to make their Regionals song a duet he doesn't waste a moment. He's doing it, and he's picking his partner.

As if it wasn't obvious who with.

He takes in a deep breath, one deep enough that he could almost choke as he exhales and enters the room. He pours his heart and soul into it, hoping that it's not evident how nervous he really is. Apparently it doesn't matter, because he's game and they practice for Regionals without uttering a single note.

In another blink of an eye they find themselves backstage, ready to perform. He dotes on his boyfriend, and nobody is there to say he can't. If anything, it'd be a chorus of hallelujahs. They've come so far since the spiral staircase. He'll never forget.

Nobody ever forgets the day they meet their true love.

So I found the strength inside to see from the better part of me and I'll never let it go.- Invincible

The first Saturday after he transfers back to McKinley they go on a date. Blaine brings him a ridiculously large bouquet of daisies, because roses are so overdone he claims, and he tries not to squeak as he bounces off to find a vase for them.

"So do I finally get to see this somewhere today? You know, the one that only we know?" He fills the vase with tap water.

Blaine nods, not bothering to hide his smile. The sheer amount of joy when he had received the hug. When he was told that he'd never say goodbye to him. The Warblers had been there to back him up. More importantly, they were there to keep him smiling on the ride home. He thanked them for their efforts.

They head to Kurt's room. He says he wants to show him something. He covers Blaine's eyes with his hand. The door is opened and he leads him to the bed. He removes his hand and there on the bed is a white tee shirt with black lettering across it.

Likes Boys.

He remembers how explained they were doing a Lady Gaga number. He had been made aware that everyone had their own custom tee shirt. He hadn't been made aware of what his said.

"Please wear it?" He peered up at him.

He couldn't say no to a face like that.

So buy me the ocean and paint it with pretty stars.-Street Fight

Laughing stock. That's what they had made out of him. He wanted nothing more than to buy a boat and sail to a distant island where his only company would be his friends, family and a happy monkey butler that would serve them coconuts as they enjoyed life around them. But here he was, humiliated as Karofsky stranded him on the dance floor with his tiara.

Blaine took his hand and asked him to dance.

They could have danced the hokey pokey for all it mattered, but it was the best dance he had of his life.

He tilts his head to the sky. It's dark out, and the stars shimmer so brightly. One shimmers brighter than the rest of them, and Blaine makes sure Kurt notices.

"That star over there reminds me of you. It's different, shining brighter than the rest of them, but it's beautiful." Kurt's hand tightens its grip. He gets a friendly squeeze in return.

A shooting star passes at that moment. "Then that one must be Rachel, flashy and brighter than the rest."

Blaine chuckles. He doesn't need to make a wish.

He already has everything he needs.

I'm not perfect, but I keep trying cause that's what I said I would do from the start. I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave.-Perfect

He sits across the table, going on about his journey to New York. Blaine can't help but smile. And then he says it. He doesn't mean to, it just tumbles out before he can stop it. He's kind of glad he didn't have time to censor his thoughts. Then he would have only wimped out. It's better to get it out in the open, where everyone can see it. By everyone he means Kurt and anyone who cares to eavesdrop in on the conversation.

There's a moment when he thinks that Kurt has choked on his coffee, when in actuality he has only choked on his own words. Someone loves him. Someone that he loves back.

They make plans for the summer over the rest of their coffee. Plans to sing, plans to relax. Plans to stay together forever in each other's company.

Over the summer they learn so much that only makes them love each other more. Blaine loves the way Kurt saunters around in the shirts that expose his stomach when he stretches up and he sees the faded bruises. He keeps it to himself, knowing the shame behind them. Kurt loves the way Blaine cannonballs into the pool and splashes water his way until he agrees to join them in the pool. He pretends to squeal, New Directions and the Warblers being quite the audience to it all.

They fall more in love every day, and neither of them want to stop.

So they don't.

So let me kiss you head to toe upon this table top.-Shelter

His teeth are exposed like two rows of Chiclets, grinning back at him as they dive in for a hug. He transferred, for him, for them. His mouth is so close, and it would be so easy to kiss him silly. The dull roar of students around him hold him back. Not physically, but they both understand there are boundaries. Ones to be nudged and prodded. Not now. Now he has to show Blaine where his classes are.

That night, once the homework is finished, at the dining room table so Kurt can help Finn understand what they are learning in history, the boys browse the cupboards for a snack. Finn grabs the Oreos from Blaine before anyone can say anything. He scampers off into his room.

They find a bag of tortilla chips and a half full container of salsa in the fridge. At first it starts as feeding each other chips. Then Kurt gets salsa on his lip and Blaine has to volunteer to help him remove it. It is the helpful thing to do after all.

Carole walks in on them as his back presses against the table top. He hears the fridge door slam and his head collides with Finn's history book. He rubs it, cheeks blushing a deep red. There is nothing more embarrassing than having one of your parents walk in on you making out with your boyfriend.

Nothing that he can think of at the moment anyway.

It's gonna be a wild wild ride and tonight you won't need your wings to fly.-Heavens Gonna Wait

It's a stage kiss, but nobody is pretending. All it means is that he is standing on stage, sans audience, making memories with a handsome fellow he refers to as his boyfriend. The same boyfriend that felt his face drop, only to be lifted up again seconds later. He's going back home, and he's bringing company. There they'll explore a new level of their relationship. The one right between making out and fuzzy handcuffs (along with other crazy sex kinks).

His hands are shaking, slightly. Just barely, but Blaine notices, because his are shaking too as he sticks his key in the front door. Their shaking hands link together as they make their way to his room. His hand relaxes.

It takes forever for them to get down to their undershirts. His pants are still on, his socks poking out from beneath them. It doesn't matter though, because they do have forever. Every blink, every touch engraves into his memory.

Blaine crouches down to Kurt's foot. "May I?"

It's more a statement than a question. His finger slides inside, directing the fabric. It falls to the edge of the bed. He stays there, occupied by Kurt's toes. He runs his finger along the arch, and the foot curls in delight. His other foot begs for attention and is not denied. He's not sure how long they spend exploring each other's feet. He knows he has until tomorrow when Blaine's parents come home. The door is locked. They won't see the clothes on the floor, the two boys in each other's arms under the sheets.

It's their moment, and nobody will ruin that.

We'll never stop, cause we're only getting better.-Bones Shatter

He brings him home from the shelter. The lights of the tree twinkle, and he stops to study the patterns they make on Blaine's face. He stays the night, sleeping on the couch per Burt's request. Kurt's behind him (not per Burt's request, but hey, it is Christmas after all). Carole unplugs the tree that had kept them mesmerized for so long.

She covers them with a blanket and heads to bed. Her footsteps creak across the floor. Kurt lifts an eyelid. The room is dark, and all he can see is the boy tangled in his arms.

It's a pretty fantastic sight.