YEARS {Glee/Klaine} ✓

Chapter One

Kurt

Lima, Ohio.

That was where I grew up. Throughout the years of tea parties in the sunny backyard, the hometown idiots of middle school, and the animal-cage that was high school, it was rare that I was anywhere but this sad excuse for a town.

This town was possibly my second strongest motivation that kept me driven to get out, with my first being the literal dream of making a home out of New York. The moment I had received my official acceptance letter to the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, or NYADA, was the moment I knew that all the years of being thrown around, bullied, and ignored didn't matter anymore. The Big Apple was calling, and I was hungry.

I hadn't expected the invitation - I was decently settled in New York - but I should have seen it coming. Even for a life in Ohio barely worth remembering, I should have known that the realization would hit me. It was still a part of my life. And there was always something worth holding on to.

I was actually headed there now: my old high school. I know it sounds silly to call it that, since I was barely a freshman in college beginning my second semester. But William-McKinley suddenly felt so far away.

I called out a goodbye to my dad, who nodded in response as I opened the front door. "Have a good time, Kurt," he told me from the couch, flipping the channel to a basketball game on TV. "Call me later."

With a silent copy of the nod, I swung open the door and stepped onto the porch. Perfect, I sighed. It's raining.

I dashed to my car parked on the driveway to avoid drenching my outfit, without luck. The button on the key fob had chosen this moment to be particularly difficult.

When I finally threw myself down into the driver's seat, I didn't hesitate to start it up to begin down the street. So much for making a good impression! I could re-shape the hair once I got there, but the damp neck scarf and button up was something I'd have to live with.

The closer I got to the school, the more I wished I would have stayed at home with Dad. It wasn't like I was meeting strangers; these were the people who made my teenage years bearable. But how has everyone changed? What if they haven't changed at all? And who would be the real strangers sitting in the choir room chairs that we once occupied?

"You'll regret it if you don't go," Dad had told me the night before. "All your glee friends will be there. And isn't Rachel going? Don't you two miss your old show choir days?"

My mood did lift slightly when remembering that Rachel was probably on her way, too. Was it wrong to be more excited to greet her than most of the other Lima friends?

We had last said goodbye exactly one week ago, when she had left our New York loft apartment a day before I planned to fly back. She made me promise to come to the reunion.

Santana, our other roommate, promised to be here too. It didn't seem too believable, when the last time I saw her, she was sitting on our couch with her girlfriend pillow watching a sappy romance movie. "I'll be there!" she said through a mouthful of chocolate.

Soon I was turning into the full parking lot of the school. When I glanced at the clock, it showed 2:14, meaning that class was still in session. Awesome.

With another race through the rain to the front doors, I shook off the water from the umbrella I had found in my car. A bell rung, and they were off: dozens of students instantly flooded the halls.

I tried my best to stay out of the way, but it was obvious that I stuck out amongst them. I forgot what a big difference there was between being gay in high school and being gay in college. In other words: was I the bass or the rainbowfish of the river?