Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they're all Ryan Murphy's. I'm very jealous of this fact.

Someone Like You

He pushed through the scrum of students, using his shoulders and the occasional elbow just the way he'd learned. It may seem strange, but he'd missed this at Dalton: fighting through a crowd of stressed, hormone-crazed teenagers just to change your books over. The way the boys all walked in perfect harmony, weaving between each other with a polite excuse me was just what Kurt had needed at first, but once he had stopped jumping every time someone walked up behind him, he had felt an inexplicable nostalgia for the packed chaos of McKinley hallways.

"—Santana Lopez is running—"

"She wants to what?"

"—Finn, are you completely—"

"—prom queen?"

"Lopez is hot, seriously."

"—vote for her?"

Kurt caught the snippets of conversation as he pushed against the people that always seem to be moving as one in the opposite direction to the one you are trying to walk in. He'd seen the posters around school with Santana's smiling face on them. Kurt had half expected them to have some slogan about her "keeping it real" but it seemed the girl had decided to keep it simple instead.

He was certainly grateful to Santana for starting the process that allowed him to return to McKinley, but he couldn't deny that slight feeling of resentment that she had just been using him. He hadn't really had a chance to speak to her yet, what with being totally engaged with Born This Way and spending time with the rest of Glee Club and Blaine and…Blaine. Even when he was practising for Born This Way – and Kurt took Gaga very seriously – Blaine had been able to distract him.

Kurt forced himself to stop thinking about his boyfriend when he reached his locker. It made his transfer harder if he did, even though Blaine had been particularly supportive of it. Kurt pulled his locker open and began switching his books, hoping nobody decided to ignore the bullying ban and slushie him right now. He really did not want to have to wash this jacket.

"Hey, Kurt."

Kurt turned in confusion to find Santana standing beside his locker, looking nervous. It was an expression Kurt couldn't remember ever seeing on the girl's face, but perhaps that was because they barely ever spoke to each other directly. "Hey…"

"I know we don't talk all that often—"

"You can say that."

"And that's probably because I'm jealous of your fabulousness," Santana continued as though Kurt had not spoken, but her comment caused him to frown. This was slightly surreal for him. "But I really need you right now, because you're the…the only one who can help me." She glanced around them, checking that nobody was listening in. Kurt had to speak because she was acting so oddly; Santana was never self-conscious and if anything she loved people to see her having private conversations. Kurt stopped transferring his books and turned his body towards her.

"Santana, what's going on? If this is about prom, Karofsky told me your plan."

She suddenly whipped her head back to him, her eyes wide. "He told you?"

"Don't worry, I'm not offended. I'm actually quite impressed at your resourcefulness and drive to become prom queen, so I guess I forgive you for using me to achieve that."

Santana's features had lost some of their fear while Kurt had been speaking, but she still did not look totally comfortable. "So you're not mad?"

"No." Kurt began to turn away from her, thinking the conversation would end there, but the girl grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Look, Kurt, that might be one reason I got you back here, but you have to believe me when I say I genuinely wanted you back. I do like you, even if I don't…show it sometimes. And I'm sorry for all the times I made gay jokes about you. I can't imagine how I hurt you. But Kurt, I needed you here. I needed…someone to talk to."

If Kurt didn't know Santana, he would have sworn there were tears in her eyes. But the former Cheerio would never cry in public, he was sure. But she did look distraught. Kurt leaned towards her a little and lowered his voice, gathering that this was not a conversation Santana wanted publicised. "What do you mean? You have plenty of people to talk to. What about Brittany?"

Santana flinched and Kurt drew back, confused by this reaction. "But that's it, Kurt. I can't talk to them, not about this." And with that she started to unzip her jacket. All manner of thoughts went through Kurt's head at this action because he could not imagine why Santana would need to start taking off her clothes. When it was undone, she pulled back the material to show a white t-shirt with big black letters across it spelling 'LEBANESE'. "This is my Born This Way t-shirt," she said, somewhat unnecessarily.

Kurt frowned at the t-shirt. "But…you're Hispanic."

Santana huffed and rolled her eyes. "Brit made it. And you know what she's like with spelling."

Kurt's eyes flicked down to the word again, then back to Santana's face. "I really don't know what you…" Then something seemed to click in Kurt's head. Lebanese. Santana needed Kurt. He was only one who would understand. She went to Karofsky. She made Karofsky trust her in some way. She flinched when he mentioned Brittany. Brittany made the t-shirt. She needed Kurt and only Kurt. Lebanese. Lebanese. "Lesbian," he whispered. He looked up at Santana and he was sure that she was about to cry now as she bit her lip. She was more vulnerable in that moment than in all the time Kurt had known her. He was suddenly aware of all the people who were still pushing through the hallway around them. He slammed his locker shut and grabbed the girl's hand, something he would never have done before, and pulled her with him into a classroom he knew nobody ever used because it was too near to Sue's office to be safe. He shut the door behind them and spun to face Santana. Her tears were now spilling onto her cheeks and her shoulders were shaking slightly. Kurt considered her for a moment, then did the only thing he could think of, the only thing he would have wanted. He pulled her into his arms and held her while she cried.

He stroked her hair gently, rocking her just a little. He wanted to whisper in her ear, but he didn't know what to say. He berated himself, because this was one thing he should be able to do. This was one time when he should know what to say. He knew what this moment felt like because he'd been there.

"We still love you, no matter what," he whispered, rubbing Santana's back. Acceptance was all he could give her.

"Not all of you," she mumbled into his shoulder, now wet with her tears.

He considered this for a moment. "Brittany?"

He took Santana's increased sobbing as a yes. Kurt had heard vague stories from Mercedes about Santana and Brittany having some sort of drama and singing together, but he hadn't thought anything of it at the time. Now he wished he'd paid more attention. Everyone knew Santana and Brittany had been together physically, but he didn't know when Santana's feelings had got involved. He pulled her a little tighter and impulsively kissed the top of her head. He wasn't used to being the strong one. He wasn't used to holding others while they cried. But he knew that this was what the girl in his arms, fragile despite her armour, needed.

The bell indicating their next class had rung a long time ago, but Kurt had made no move to change their position. Eventually, Santana's sobbing became more like hiccupping, then just uneven breathing. He felt her pull back and took her hands when she removed her arms from around his waist.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice husky from crying. She was looking at the floor.

Kurt cupped her face in his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs, and tilted her head so she was looking him in the eyes. "Don't apologise. It's not bad to feel, it's not bad to be scared. You're forgetting that I've done this. I've been here and I'm not letting you go through it alone. I'm not going to force you to do anything, to be anyone; I'm just going to love you. I'm going to love you until you love yourself." Then Kurt leant forwards and did something he had never done to anyone in his life: he kissed Santana on the forehead. He pulled back and brushed her hair behind her ears before taking her hands again.

"You shouldn't be being this nice to me. I've been so horrible to you; I don't deserve you doing this."

"I don't care about that. You can be a bitch to me all you want, but I'm not going to hate you. Even if you didn't need me now, I wouldn't hate you. We're in Glee club, in case you forgot. We have to stick together and love each other, bad bits and all."

Santana pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling and nodded. When she spoke, her voice was still soft and sounded broken. "Thank you."

Kurt merely shrugged, then pulled her towards him again. He gave her a quick hug and released her. "Do you feel ready to go back to class yet or do you want to wait some more?"

"I have Algebra now. I can't…Kurt, Brit's in there, and I—"

"Don't. You don't have to go anywhere. I'll stay here with you. We can stay here until Glee club if you want to."

She gave a shaky laugh and allowed Kurt to pull her over to the side of the classroom, where they sat down on the floor and leaned their backs against the wall. Kurt held one of her hands between them, their fingers entwined, and let Santana lay her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a time that Kurt could not name, but he knew that the bell rang more than once, and students stampeded through the hallways. There would be punishment for missing classes, but Kurt didn't care. Santana needed him and he refused to leave her. She didn't tell him to go, either. They just sat together, in the darkened classroom, unheeding of the dust on the floor. They were Lebanese and Fabulous and there was nothing they could do to change it. There was nothing they would do, because they were that way, they were born that way, and that was the way they wanted to stay.