Because someone wanted this rebloggable
can I be an obnoxious Klaine shipper?
Darren: February 5 (2/5)
Chris: May 27 (5/27)
2+5 = 7
5+2+7 = 14
7+14 = 21
we always knew the actors are perfect for this role.
This will always be funny to me.
this hiatus is worse than i thought
It’s so weird when people are squeamish about seeing brains because that’s their own brain making a decision that it looks disgusting. Brains don’t like how they look.
self conscious brains aww
brains that don’t like what they look like because they’re not supposed to be visible
because if they’re visible something is deeply wrong
you might say it’s braingerous
A little ditty set after “All or Nothing.” PG.
It’s after 11:00 when he finally makes it home, so he’s surprised to see his dad still up, watching the news; he usually gets the baseball scores from the early morning show.
“Hey. Can’t sleep?”
“Waiting up for you, actually,” Burt says, muting the television.
Kurt plops down on the couch, lets his body relax for the first time that day. He sighs, hugs a pillow to his chest and says, “Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury got married today.”
“How’d that happen?”
“I don’t know. She’s got this anxiety thing, and maybe the big wedding was too much for her?”
“Makes sense, I guess. How’d Blaine do? I wish I could have been there,” Burt replies.
How did Blaine do? Amazing. Fantastic. He lit up the stage. “He was his usual rock star self. They won.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“I am. Of course I am.”
“Dad, just. I know, okay? I know.”
Burt leans forward, a small smile on his face. “Yeah? What do you know?”
“I know I’m kidding myself. I know that no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to change how I feel. I know… I know I still love him.”
Burt turns off the TV and stands up. He pats Kurt on the shoulder.
“That’s it?” Kurt asks. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“Pretty much. What else is there to say? It’s when we don’t know that we make stupid choices, when we’re unsure of their heart, and our own.”
Kurt sucks in a breath, sits up straight and turns to look Burt. “Dad, that’s—do you think that’s why he did it?”
“Yeah, well. You’d have to ask him. I’m gonna take my pill and head up. Don’t stay up too late,” Burt says, making his way for the kitchen.
Kurt stares at the ceiling, the floor, the tacky crocheted doily under a pile of magazines. It’s only a minute before he’s standing at the kitchen counter, hands in his pockets so he won’t twist them into knots.
“Does Blaine—does he know? Now?”
Burt swallows his pill, sets his glass down next to the sink. “Yeah, he knows.”
“For sure, this time? He knows for sure?”
“For sure, kid. He knows forever.”