Please, Call Me Lovely

Ch1 Texts Never Sent

A/N: Okay, so I've been trying to avoid writing this, because of the sheer amount of stories I have unfinished, but I can't continue those without writing this. So I guess I'll try to balance. I hope you all enjoy this!

Kurt's POV

It was late when I arrived home. The house was dark and quiet, for which I was thankful. Dad, Carole, and Finn, I assumed, were all asleep in their respective rooms. I was glad that I had gotten my own room here, instead of sharing one with Finn, if strictly for nights like tonight, nights where I didn't need questions, I didn't need poking and prodding, and I just needed to cry and spill my soul to my pillow. Or Mercedes. Possible both.

I climbed the stairs with as much silence as I could muster under the protest of my legs and backside, avoiding the creaks here and there, and made my way to me new room. The light of the half moon was trickling in through the windows, and my desk lamp was on. Finn must have been in here looking for something of his. He was always losing things, and for some reason, he thought my room was hoarding them.

I sighed a shaky breath and sat down on my bed, wincing a little bit. Pulling out my phone, I scrolled down to "Sassy Mercedes" and blindly clicked. I was formulating how to write this novel of a text in a way that she wouldn't take pity on me. Not that she would, my queen had always had a way of keeping things real. I also prepared myself for a silent night, it was after 2 in the morning, and Mercedes probably wouldn't text me back until her alarm had alerted her that she should wake. But I started writing anyway.

Mercedes,

I think I've made a terrible mistake. Ever since I've come back to McKinley, Blaine has been wanting to see me more, which I suppose is understandable, even desirable. I mean, he's supposed to want to spend time with me, I am his boyfriend. He invited me over, so tonight, I went over to his house. Please don't think less of him for this, but one thing just lead to another, and well, I'm hoping you know what I'm telling, because I really don't want to spell it out. It was incredibly embarrassing and awkward, even painful, though I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who felt that way.

You don't need to worry, it was consensual, I… I just wasn't ready, I guess. I wanted to be, I wanted it to be magical and special and lovely, like all the fairy-tales and whatnot, but for me, it was uncomfortable and even frightening. I don't know how I'll face him now. What if he expects me to do…that again? What if he gets mad if I wont?

In a sad attempt to salvage anything that could be salvaged from that situation, I told him I loved him afterwards. For the first time, ever, I told someone I loved them. I wasn't ready for that either, I just blurted it out. I was shaking, waiting for his reply, and all he said was 'Oh, that's sweet'. Don't go all mama bear, hon, I'm sure he didn't mean it the way I felt it, but I just couldn't stay there after. I'm home now, in my own bed. I still can't stop crying. I feel pathetic. I just can't have a happy, normal, loving, romance, can I? Maybe there is something wrong with me after all.

I hope to hear from you soon. We should go shopping. We should laugh.

-Kurt.

I hit send, and lay down, expecting not to get a text from the rest of the night. The darkness of my room enveloped me, as I tried to fall asleep. It was no surprise when I couldn't.

Sam's POV

I was staying up reading comic books. Not the coolest pastime on a Saturday night, but I really couldn't care. I liked the stories. Why wouldn't I spend time reading them? The colours were dull because my light was dying, and, well, the books were pretty old anyway. And well read. They were probably the only things I could stand reading.

My phone buzzed and interrupted me. I sighed, if it was from a drunk Santana again, I swear I'd throw my phone out my window. Usually drunk texts from Santana were either sexts (really lame ones at that), or confessions (usually about Brittany), which I would ignore because if she wasn't ready to tell me sober, I wouldn't press.

It was pretty late, even for her. She was usually passed out around now, but I figured I'd look anyway. She might need a ride, and I don't want anyone getting killed by driving drunk.

The name my screen read wasn't Santana though. I was confused. I'd gotten maybe four texts from this number in my life, and none recently.

"Kurt Hummel" I read out loud. Why would Kurt be texting me at, I glanced at the clock, 3 in the morning?

I flipped my phone open and opened the text. It started with Mercedes' name, so I figured he'd just miss-dialed or something. I was going to send him a 'Try again' message, but the first words worried me. I think they would worry anyone.

I think I've made a terrible mistake.

I kept reading, learning more in three paragraphs than I'd ever expected to know about Kurt Hummel. It was a sad text. Really, it seemed like he was in a dark place. I could relate. But it wasn't my place. This message wasn't meant for me to see. My thumb hovered over the delete button, but then I read one of the lines one more time.

Maybe there is something wrong with me…

I sighed, and against better judgment, started to reply.

Hey Kurt

First, I think you got the wrong numder. I wasn't gonna reab this, but u sorta got me worried. Theres nothing wrong with u. Ur just going through a tough time. He probadly didn't mean to hurt u, but u neeb to tell him wat he did wrong. If he doesn't say sorry, I say leave. Cuz that means he did know. But like I saib, he prodably didn't. Im sorry this happened to you… I sorta suk at this comforting thing, but im here if u need me.

Keep your heab up, and text me if you want to.

-Sam

I hit send, and waited for an angry reply, something like "How dare you read my text when you saw it was for someone else!" and whatever. But a few minutes later, I just got a small text back.

Thank you, Sam. I will.

-Kurt