You sit on the counter in the girls’ bathroom, while your boyfriend helps you wipe off the cold, sugary ice that was tossed onto you by Karofsky and the other football players. Why’d they do it? Just because you’re part of the Glee club.

“At least none got in your eyes…?” He says, trying to lighten the mood as much as possible. You give him a look, and he takes that as a sign to shut his mouth and continue with cleaning you up. As much as you want to feel bad for the look you gave him, you both know it was somewhat justified, since being slushied is not a pleasant experience whatsoever. He doesn’t really take it to heart, knowing that you’re just upset and pissed off, since you’d made it a pretty long time without getting slushied. Three months, to the date, actually. Three months of peace. Being part of the New Directions without facing the ice cold wrath of a Big Gulp slushie? That was a win in everyone’s book.

But that safety comes to an end for everyone who joins the glee club eventually. Some last longer than others without experiencing the pain of sugary ice being thrown at their face, but most get slushied right away. It was really only a matter of time before you faced the inevitable fate of a Big Gulp to the face. Doesn’t make the cold sting any less, though.

“Do you wanna come over my house after glee and we can just watch a movie and chill?” He asks you, after wiping away as much of the flavored ice as possible. You nod, and he smiles before kissing your cheek. “Cool. We can get some snacks on the way, too. Make it our own little movie night.” He adds. He’s so good to me, you think to yourself. Too good, sometimes. That's what it feels like.