The Best Story
I'm waiting outside the journalism classroom. I can see that Kurt's already there and so is Malerie, and a few other kids. I don't want him to think that I don't want to be there, because I really want to be there and listen to him... But yesterday I wrote something and I want to show him and I know that he would want me to read it out loud in front of them. I guess I'm just not prepared for that yet. I'd rather be there with him alone.
I can tell by the look he's giving them that he's upset. He's not happy with something. Malerie gestures to some pictures on the table and Kurt just rolls his eyes and says something. Then some emo girl yells something at him and another boy says something too. Kurt takes his glasses off and looks in his direction, his shoulders slump a little. He looks so vulnerable now that I just want to open the door and go give him a hug. But I do nothing.
The bell rings and they all scatter like roaches. The emo girl stays behind, mumbles something and punches Kurt in the arm slightly. Then she walks away. Perfect time to come inside.
I slightly open the door and hear Kurt say quietly, "Because I need something to care about." He's turned back to me. I don't want him to think that I was sneaking around, which I actually was, so I don't comment on what he has just said.
Instead, I say, "Hi," as much awkwardly as I could have. He turns around and smiles a little.
"Hi," he replies. "Why weren't you here, they all just left."
"I know, I'm sorry," I admit. "I just wasn't sure if they would like my story and I kinda didn't want them to hear it." I say. Kurt's face lights up.
"Story?" He asks. I can clearly hear the hope and excitement in his voice as much as he tries to hide it.
"Um, yeah," I smile a bit and pull the paper out of my bag. It's only one paragraph long and even though I promised myself to write the best story Kurt has ever read, it's actually pretty horrible. I'm not a good writer, I'm not even a writer, I just happen to have a crush on a boy who loves writing.
He comes closer to me and sits on the table. I give him the folded piece of paper and say, "I know it's horrible, but I tried really hard."
He reads it. I know every word of it, it says:
Once upon a time, there was a girl,
who wanted to discover the world.
But she was stuck at school and had
a lot of homework. Like Chemistry, and
Math and other stuff, she didn't like it,
but who would, right? So she ran away.
From her life, I guess. And she saw the world.
He slowly looks up at me and takes a deep breath. "Blaine," he starts. Oh my God, this is the first time he actually said my name and it sounds amazing. "It's... not that bad..."
I close my eyes and bow my head. "I'm such a disappointment," I say and rub my eyes. "I wanted to write something, because you said that no one else does, and I failed."
"Hey," he says and squeezes my shoulder slightly. "At least it is something. You see, I tried so hard to get them to write something, but they just don't, and Malerie just copies everything. You at least wrote something on your own." He encourages me. It's a bit weird, I've never seen him so understanding and gentle before. He's completely out of character, just a few minutes ago, he was yelling at the members of his club and now... he's like a completely different person.
"I can't write a damn thing," I admit. "I never could, I'm a horrible writer." He frowns.
"Why did you join the Writers' club, then?" He asks me.
Shit. I can feel the blood rushing into my cheeks already and I know that I'm bright red right now. I can't just tell him: I joined because I have a huge crush on you and even though I can't write even a stupid poem, I wanted to be close to you. But it doesn't matter anyway, because I've been quiet for too long. He just looks at me a bit suspiciously and shakes his head slightly. I'd give anything in the world to know what is he thinking right now.
"Never mind." He says then and looks at the paper I gave him again.
"Honestly, the only thing that I can write, are songs." I say after a while. "I haven't written many of them, I just like to sing my own lyrics to some songs because I love singing."
He looks at me, amused. "Really?" He asks. "Well, writing is just like singing." I frown a little and look at him. "Just let the emotions guide you and before you know it, you have a whole page written down. It's really an amazing feeling." He adds and smiles to himself.
Suddenly I get an idea. It's just as if a light bulb suddenly appeared above my head and before I know it, I'm practically asking him out, even when he might not realize it. "Hey, do you think... that you could maybe... help me?" I hesitate a bit.
"With what?" He asks.
"Writing." I quickly say. "You know, you could c-come over and show me how do you write and help me with it..." I say. "It'd be n-nice..." I quietly add.
"Eh, I'm sorry," He says. "I have absolutely no time today, we print tomorrow and those fuckers didn't do a damn thing." He rolls his eyes and hops down off the table. "But, th-thanks for the... story that you wrote. For trying."
"Um, you're welcome." I smile. "And I didn't say it had to be today, it could be this week, or next week, whenever you want." I add. I'd really like it if he came over.
"Oh, well then," He says and it seems like he's thinking hard about this. "Okay." He says finally. My heart skips a beat. Really? Did he really just agree to come to my house and show me how to write? Oh my God, I think he can see the excitement on my face.
"Th-thanks!" I smile and try to sound like I'm not freaking out. Except that I actually am freaking out, a lot. "Thanks," I say. Then I immediately realize that I've already said that. "Okay!" I quickly add and turn towards the door. "B-Bye!" I call at him and quickly close the door. I saw the confusion on his face when I started to stutter with excitement. I hope he doesn't know why was I freaking out like that.
And I hope it'll stay that way. At least until I want him to know.