There once was a boy, neither strange nor enchanted, neither special nor ordinary. Just a boy. Who liked a boy.
(She laughs loud and obnoxious and smiles big and fake. He doesn't love her at all.)
"What about Blaine?"
A flash of white teeth, bared in the darkness, not even a smile.
"I'm here to help you, aren't I?" A laugh like bells, an earnest smile, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching.
"Stevie! Stacey! Look who's here."
Letters that don't get sent. Hi, Kurt. How's your day been? Your jacket is warm. No, wait. That came out wrong. Hi, Kurt. I miss you. Come and visit me? Hi, Kurt. You'll never get this but I love you.
(Her hand in his is like learning a new language. No, it's like being stuck in a country where he doesn't speak the language. His fingers don't fit perfectly into the spaces between hers, and she pretends not to notice. So does he.)
There once was a boy. Strange and enchanted and beautiful was he.
Sam falls in love with him every single day, tightens the noose around his throat, counts the red spots in his eyes before he passes out. He never makes it past twelve. Kurt's eyes are on Blaine and Sam can't see anything but red.
(Yesterday, she promised me she'd love me always.)
A breath so quick and so soft that Sam barely feels it leave his lungs. Hope fluttering its wings in his belly.
"I'm really happy for you and Mercedes."
And the red.
("I love you.")
It's all a lie and Sam feels the screams beneath his skin.
("I love you, too.") A language he doesn't speak. He can't even see her smile, big and fake, beyond the red spots in his eyes.
There once was a boy (neither strange nor enchanted) who loved another boy.
Neither here nor there.