author1993

He found his locker, threw his stuff inside, and checked his schedule for his first period class, groaning as he read it.

  Algebra II

  Yeah, fuck that. He slammed his locker closed and wandered the halls until he found a door that let outside on the back side of the school. He headed for the bleachers on the far side of the football field, thinking if he lied down between some he could probably sleep until lunch without anyone bothering him.

  As he approached the bleachers though he realized they were not unoccupied. A small handful of girls were gathered underneath, leaning up against the chain fence or lying on the ground or anywhere in between in poses so perfectly indifferent that they kinda of defeated their intent.

  Shaking his head, he walked up, so much for his nap.

  “What’s this, ladies?”

  There were seven of them, he could tell now. Six heads turned slowly to give him a quick once over, but there was one in the back that snapped up, amber eyes flashing with indignation, before returning resignedly to neutral as he looked away.

  Yeah, he. Kurt quirked an eyebrow, this was new. He’d made his way around several schools at this point and they all had the same basic collection of cliques. Most relevantly there was always a band of girls who varied in name from place to place but could always be counted to linger somewhere outside of class in a cloud of smoke, their hair high-lighted with different streaks of neon, and dressed in promiscuous clothing. Sometimes that meant their skirts were short or their necklines low, but more often there were rips up the backs of their tights or their shirts were torn off at the midriff, exposing sensual strips of skin.

  Speaking of which, one of the girls, clad in practically shredded tights, a miniskirt, and a shirt that only just came down over her bra, if she was even wearing one, was suddenly leaning into him. Purple streaks lined her dark hair and the smell of smoke came even stronger from her body than the cigarette in her hand.

“What do you want it to be, stud?” she asked in a low voice. Kurt wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be seductive or if it was just an effect of the smoking.

  The boy snorted and both the girl’s and Kurt’s head’s snapped over to him, her gaze sharp, Kurt’s curious. His hair was spiked and dyed neon pink at the tips, but stopped and returned to back to the natural black at an even line across his head, unlike most of the girls whose colors bled into their hair in messy lines, the mark of a cheap hair job. His black jeans were skin tight, leaving little to the imagination, but still absent of any rips, and through the label may have been removed Kurt was certain they were designer. Something didn’t quite add up.

  “Something funny Anderson?” the girl sneered at the boy.

  “Nothing Marie, it’s just interesting that you, of all people, are the only person who argues that the Skanks aren’t the school sluts.”

  “I’ve had about enough of your shit Anderson. If you’re gonna keep hanging around here you need to stop acting like you’re fucking better than the rest of us. You know what I heard?” She was walking towards him now. ‘Anderson’ watched her with an impassive expression. “I heard you gave it up to Jameson.” The mask of indifference broke for a fraction of a second, not long enough to identify what flickered across his face, not even long enough to be sure it wasn’t a trick of the light. “Seriously, Anderson? You let that asshole fuck you and you’re gonna try to talk down to me? Get over yourself!”

  The girl, Marie Kurt supposed, was now standing right in front of the boy where he sat on a table up against the wall. He stared hard at for her for a long moment. Kurt smirked, easily recognizing the calm before the storm of telling someone off. But then the boy shrugged and simply said, “I’ve never denied what I am.”

  He was good, Kurt would give him that. That is to say while he was obviously the type that wore his heart on his sleeve, he was effectively almost completely concealing it. And voice control, that’s really tricky, but he had sounded like he could pass for believing that. Perhaps, if Kurt hadn’t already come across all manners of “sluts” and so-called skanks he would have even believed it. But he had, and this boy was something else entirely. So why was he pretending?

“Well—“ Marie started but Kurt interrupted her, walking over to the pair.

  “And what’s that?”

  The boy turned to him, looking him up and down with a cold defensive gaze. “Excuse me?”

  “You said you’ve never denied what you are. Well, what are you?”

  The boy looked at him with a question in his eyes, obviously trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke. When Kurt said nothing, he leaned back, allowing his previously hunched in on himself posture to open up, and gestured down himself, looking up at Kurt through the long lashes of his half lowered eyelids. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “That you know how to sell sex appeal much better than any of these girls? Yeah.” Marie, who had returned to drapping herself on him and playing with his collar, finally retreated at that with a disgruntled huff. “Who you are and what the hell you’re in this crowd? No, not a bit.”

  The boy raised his eyebrows in interested surprise. “If my sex appeal, as you say, is that apparent to you, then it should be very apparent what I am, and what I’m doing here. Tell me,” he said leaning forward and dropping his voice to a coy whisper, “do I appeal to you?”

  It wasn’t an answer, not even close. Even the implication, that he was gay, and therefore a slut, was obviously nothing more than an easy deflection, and a painfully stereotypical one at that, even with the slightly mocking tone with which he’d said it. Kurt didn’t doubt that it was the identity he’d be given if he asked around, or even that this boy had played into it. But it was definitely a far cry from the truth and that was also obvious, well it would be to anyone who actually looked at him. But apparently this boy didn’t feel like sharing.

  Fine then, Kurt liked a challenge. First thing was first though. He’d been asked a question. He stepped directly up to the table so he was between the boys legs and their faces were inches apart. He raised one hand and touched the back of it to the corner of the boy’s jaw, extending two fingers and dragging them all the way down his neck and across his chest.  “Maybe, is that an invitation, babe?”

  The boy shuttered at the touch and his eyes widened. Kurt wondered if perhaps he’d done more playing up of the stereotypical identity rather than actual playing in to it. A moment later though the coy act was back. “Do you need one?” he whispered, bringing his hands up to the hem of Kurt’s t-shirt, thumbing up under it and pushing it up slightly—

  Kurt grabbed his wrists to stop him. “Yes,” he said shortly, staring into the boy’s eyes. His returning gaze was confused, like he was trying to figure out what kind of trick he was playing.

  Kurt sighed, trying not to think of the implication behind that, behind thinking there was something hidden behind a request for permission. “Look, what’s your name?”

  The boy looked completely lost now. “Uh…Blaine?”

  “Cool, Blaine, I’m Kurt, and I like to fuck. And I’m gay. They’re not correlated but they are both true and combine them with the fact that your fucking hot and what you get from that is I’d like to fuck you. That is if you, Blaine, also like to fuck.”

  Blaine’s mouth twitched in a small smile, “And if I’m gay?”

  “I mean that doesn’t matter so much, I’ve been known to sway people.” Kurt grinned back.

  The girls all disappeared pretty quickly at that point, except for one Blaine had to yell to get lost right before Kurt pulled his pants down, only after getting a nod from Blaine as he thumbed at the zipper.

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying to get a free show,” she said with a smirk as she skipped off.

  Blaine had quite the retort for that but lost it the second Kurt’s hand reached out to cup him. And then he was a little too busy moaning to form words.

  …………………………………………………………………………………

  “So?”

  Blaine took a drag from his cigarette and glanced over to where Kurt was staring at him expectantly. “So what?”

  “You’ve got the diction of a private school boy but are going to one of the shittiest public schools in Ohio. You’re piercings are real diamond, and your jeans are presumably designer, thank god for not ripping them by the way, so it’s not a money thing. I could go on but the only thing that really matters is your entire persona is a cover for something and I want to know—“

  “I don’t know what—“

  “Fine,” Kurt reached over and grabbed the wrist of the hand not holding the cigarette, turned it over and pushed back the black fabric of his sleeve exposing the white lines there.

  “Two on each wrist, wide so cut over and over again, but the skin around the edge is all one tone so they all happened on one occaision. An isolated attempt, a suicide attempt, so, something happened.”

  Blaine shifted away. Kurt sighed and took a deep breath, “I never really had a choice about coming out, everybody just new. I used to get bullied really bad about it. Name-calling, locker shoves, getting beat up in the locker room after gym. Anything you can think of really.”

  Now it was Blaine’s turn to watch Kurt as he stared straight ahead.

  “My mom died when I was eight, my dad when I was sixteen. No one at home to see the bruises meant no one to call the school and rant enough to assert a check on the bullying, for  however short a time. It also meant no reason to worry about the consequences of responding. So one day I just lashed out. This kid shoved me into a locker and I grabbed him and just started punching. Ended up sending him to the hospital. It’s been mostly juvie centers since then. A couple of foster home placements and schools, but they don’t last long.

  Kurt could see Blaine in his peripheral, staring at him with big said round eyes. “Don’t” he cut out shortly, then bit back a rough laugh at the way Blaine’s eyes flashed away like he’d been caught. “The point is a should be a musical theatre geek but instead I’m a ‘bad boy.’” He shook his head in scornful amusement as he made quotation marks around the word. “There’s a reason for that…Your turn.”

  Blaine was silent for a long time but Kurt didn’t say anything.

  “I’d-uh. I’d never been kissed…before today.”

  Kurt scrunched his eyebrows, confused by how that was related, but went with it, trying to ignore the guilty twist in his gut, “I thought you said you weren’t a virgin?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Sick waves of realization rolled over Kurt watched at Blaine, but he continued to stare straight ahead.

  “Jesus Christ! Shit!” Kurt exhaled. Blaine’s gaze flickered down and over at him quickly, but back ahead when he saw Kurt was looking at him.

  Kurt stood and turned so he was in front of him. Blaine looked back at him eyes wide, even the dark eye liner around them failing to conceal how young he looked.

  “Close your eyes.”

  He swallowed slowly first, but then obeyed.

  Kurt leaned in slowly and pressed his lips very softly against Blaine’s, bringing his hand up to the side of his face almost simultaneously. He held his lips still for a second then turned his head to deepen the kiss, the sound of Blaine’s inhale as he responded mixing with his own as he opened his mouth slightly to kiss him once more before pulling back slowly.

  Blaine’s eyes flickered open. Kurt smirked, and leaned back in, skirting his lips by Blaine’s on their way to his ear. “These things cause cancer you know,” he said plucking the cigarette from Blaine’s hand and squashing it under his foot. It wasn’t anywhere close to ‘I care,’ but it was the closest he could manage. With that he turned and started back towards the school.

  “That’s it?” Blaine called after him.

  Kurt turned around but continued walking backwards. “You should try green.”

  “What?”

“Oh, ok. Shall we then?” Blaine held his arm out, gesturing for Kurt to go ahead of him with a grin, and they headed towards the parking lot. “So how was your first full day?”

Kurt had found this to be quite common question for most people. He still didn’t quite understand why they found it so interesting when most days, especially for him, were essentially the same. But at least he had enough practice to know how to answer it. Ms. Rowe had started their session every day with it after all.

“It went fine. Art was interesting. I didn’t have that yesterday. I—“ Kurt hesitated, wondering if perhaps this was a bit to self assuming or promoting, but somehow he felt like Blaine would like to know. “They didn’t have enough pottery wheels, so I painted. I’ve never done that before but Jeff says I’m good.”

“Oooh! A hidden artist! You would be full of mysterious talents, wouldn’t you Kurt Hummel?” Blaine laughed.

“Oh, umm, yes?” Kurt responded. He wasn’t quite sure what Blaine meant by that. It probably wasn’t bad though, right?

Blaine shuffled ahead of Kurt and opened the passenger door to his car as they approached. “Your chariot awaits, my liege.” Seriously!?!?! Blaine berated himself in his mind. Be a little more cheesy why don’t you!

Kurt just kind of cocked his head at him though, “Uh, what?”

  Blaine ducked his head blushing, Kurt looked really cute when he cocked his head. “Nothing,” Blaine shook his head, he never realized how big he was on expressions, he really need to work on that. “It’s just a silly saying, basically a fancy way of saying get in,” Blaine smiled in a way he hoped was charming.

  Kurt nodded, clearly tucking away the phrase for future reference, before sliding in swiftly. Blaine closed the door and ran around to his side, hopping in and turning the car on. “What’s your favorite genre of music, Kurt?” he asked, flipping through the songs on his Ipod as he plugged it in.

  “Oh,” Kurt said, seeming caught off guard, “I’m sure whatever you like is fine.”

  “C’mon Kurt, I like everything on here and I’ve probably got at least a little of practically everything.”

  “Everything?” Kurt said glancing at the Ipod with curiosity.

  “Pretty much, so what’ll it be?”

  “Could you just put it on shuffle?” Kurt asked looking unsure, like he usually did when he was asking someone else to do something. “I-uh—didn’t get a lot of variety in the music I listened to up until a couple months ago. I’ve been trying to explore the different types, um, genres?” he glanced at Blaine out of the side of his eye for confirmation.

  Blaine nodded. “Sure thing,” he said as he pressed the shuffle button and pulled out. “You tell me if anything stands out to you and I can give it to you, okay?”

  Kurt looked over at him eyes wide, “Really?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Thank you.” Kurt said sincerely. He smiled a small excited smile, that may or may not have made Blaine smile, as he turned to study the picture of the album cover of the song playing. He touched the screen so it lit up and he could read the band and song name and lay back in the seat and closed his eyes, listening, the corners of his mouth still turned up slightly.

  Kurt should smile more, Blaine thought. Why is there not a team of people employed to make Kurt smile? Blaine wondered, barely containing a snort at how much he sounded like a crushing schoolboy.

Blaine smirked when the next song came around and hummed softly for a bit before he started to sing along, gaining volume as the song built. He could feel Kurt’s gaze on him but kept his gaze focused ahead until he pulled into the parking lot of the Lima Bean just as the song was ending. When he did look over though he found Kurt’s gaze to be intense, and bordering on pained.

“Was I that bad?” he questioned.

  “Hm?” Kurt started shaking his head as if pulled out of deep thought, his expression returning to neutral with a slight hint of apologetic. “Oh, no, no, not at all, sorry, I didn’t I meant to, I was just, thinking. I was just thinking. Do you, only do you do that a lot?”

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows, “Do what?”

  “Sing,” Kurt specified, “In the car, to random songs that come on?”

  “Oh,” Blaine said trying to keep the bewilderment from his voice, “Yeah,  all the time. It’s a fun way to pass time in the car, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Kurt responded, but his eyes were downcast and distant, a faint crease pulling his eyebrows together.

  “Kurt?” Blaine questioned as he pulled into a parking spot, turning towards him in effort to pull him back from wherever his thoughts had taken him.

  “Sorry,” Kurt said, turning his head so it was in line with Blaine, but slowly so, keeping his gaze down and distant, returning his attention to the present, but no losing his thought. “It’s just, well, I miss singing, but Miss Rowe says I shouldn’t perform and I want to do what she wants but, maybe that would be okay?” His gaze flickered up, looking for confirmation.

  A second passes where their eyes meet before there’s a flash of realization and Kurt’s eyes widen. “Oh, no! I don’t know if I was supposed to say that, was that a weird thing to say? Are you freaked out? Oh no, oh dear, what am I—“

            Blaine set a hand on Kurt’s shoulder to try and pause his speech; he tried to make it very gentle but Kurt jumped dramatically at the touch all the same.

                        “Sorry,” Blaine said, pulling his hand back immediately and holding both up in the air, “ I was just trying to get your attention. Listen, Kurt,” Blaine said, lowering his hands slowly as Kurt’s shoulders settled back down and his breath evened out from getting worked up. “nothing you said was that weird, confusing sure, but nothing to ‘freak out’ over,” Blaine assured, making quotation marks in the air at Kurt’s terminology.

  Kurt nodded, but the set of his brow told Blaine he was still uneasy.

  “If you want,” he continued, “I can pretend like it didn’t happen. Will never mention it, promise!” Blaine mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.

  Kurt, watching him through his lashes, scrunching his eyebrows together at the gesture, but before Blaine could explain a small quick of Kurt’s lips made him decide to let it go. “Okay,” Kurt agreed, “yes, thank you, I think that would be good.”

  “Of course,” Blaine responded, moving to open the door then turning back, “but, just one thing before we let it go,” Blaine paused , allowing Kurt a chance to stop him, but he just nodded. “I don’t know exacting what’s going on with this whole not being allowed to sing or able or whatever, but if you miss it, I think you should get to. So I would say definitely ask this Miss Rowe about it. I highly doubt she’ll have any problem with it.”

Kurt shook his head, letting out  a small short breath that Blaine supposed was supposed to be a laugh. “I don’t know about that,” Blaine opened his mouth to respond but surprisingly Kurt cut him off with a small shake of his head, “It’s complicated, but I’ll ask her.”

  “Good,” Blaine smiled, getting out of the car and running around to open Kurt’s door.

…

“So, coffee,” Blaine said as they stood in front of a counter looking up at a board in the crowded little shop, “is one of the greatest delicacies that has ever graced this earth. Your life is about to be made Kurt Hummel. Any idea what you’d like to try?”

  Kurt stared up at the board, his head swimming at the quantity of options. “I really don’t know. What are you--”

He cut off as a little girl ran past his leg, shrieking. His eyes followed her, his body turning automatically. She looked back with bright brown eyes, full of excitement not terror, but the shade was reminiscent all the same. And then someone bumped roughly into him from behind, hands coming up to grip him around the shoulders to steady him before moving past. Kurt’s eyes clamped shut, trying not to see.  

  Trying not to see brown eyes burning with terror. Trying to see them panic as her hands tugged at the bars in desperation, she knew they would not budge. Trying to avoid the arms waiting to clamp around him and pull him back as he watched the realization dawn in her eyes.

  He felt the hand on his shoulder and ripped out of its grasp, not again.

  Blaine had been trying to ask Kurt if he’d rather something try something fancy and less strong or just plain, when he had frozen up, eyes closing while his one hand gripped the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles were white. Blaine had tried saying his name several times before giving up and tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder. Kurt’s eyes had flown open and he had violently knocked it away as he stumbled back against the counter.

  “Woah there,” Blaine said, stretching his arms out, making sure not to touch him but ready to catch him if he fell. He looked unsteady after all, his eyes darting around while his chest rose and fell in visible heaves. “Hey, you alright?’

  Kurt’s eyes locked onto Blaine’s for only a second before they dropped, but that was all it took for Kurt to bring himself back. He pushed himself up from the counter and eased his breath.

  “Yeah, sorry, just, got a little faint…hot, it’s hot…”

It wasn’t really, neither in the coffee house, nor outside where a crisp fall breeze was present. But still, there was sweat trickling down the back of Kurt’s neck. He felt suffocated by the layers of his uniform. He swiftly undid the buttons of his blazer and shrugged it off, placing it over his arm and loosening his tie in the same go.

  Blaine looked at him concerned. “Are you sure you’re alright. Do you get hot flashes?”

  Kurt shook his head, breathing out slowly. “I’m fine. I think I’ll just go sit down for a minute. Excuse m--”

  Kurt had started walking backwards towards the tables while still talking to Blaine. Just as he was stepping out of the congestion of the line, a woman, scurrying her way along to the table with the lids and stirrers, stepped into his path. Her coffee, still steaming, poured out onto his lower back and seeped through his white dress shirt and undershirt easily, letting out a light but sharp hiss as it soaked into the skin there.

  The woman stared at him horrified. Blaine rushed over to him, hands moving frantically but pointlessly through the air as he asked if Kurt was okay. And Kurt? Kurt blinked once slowly before saying very calmly to Blaine, “Could you excuse me for a moment, please? I need to go wash that off.” And then he walked swiftly over to the bathroom, before the woman could even get out a distressed ‘I’m so sorry, let me-’, leaving Blaine staring wide eyed after him.

  …

Kurt closed the door firmly behind him, turning to press his forehead into it, letting his blazer fall to the ground. He could feel the rawness of the skin where the coffee was simmering. The pain barely phased him, but he feared intensely what it would look like when he removed his shirt.

He could not believe he’d gotten burned now. After everything. The irony of it was incredible. The feeling of bitterness, unfamiliar and unbidden twisted his stomach. He felt the urge to go into one of the stalls and allow his lunch to heave itself up as it seemed intent on doing, but quelled it. He’d dealt with much worse; there was no reason to get so worked up. He walked over to the mirror, facing away from it. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, pausing at the bottom. Then he raised trembling hands to the collar and tugged it down an inch, two--

  There came a soft knock on the door, and Kurt jerked that shirt back up. The door swung open slowly to reveal Blaine. “Kurt, are you sure you’re alright? That coffee looked really h--”

  Blaine choked on his words when he saw Kurt, standing in the middle of the bathroom, his shirt hanging open on the front side, and wet and clinging to him on the back. “H-hot,” he stuttered out. “Here, I um, brought you an extra shirt I had in my car,” he said holding out one of the T-shirts he kept in the back, just in case.

  “Oh,” Kurt said, staring at the shirt as though dazed for a moment before responding. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. It’s fine, I’ll just wring this out and—“

  “Kurt, take it,” Blaine insisted.

  Kurt reached out to take it, his shirt falling down his shoulder a bit. Blaine eyes followed it, trailing down the curve of Kurt’s upper left bicep where it fell. Somehow he had managed to neglect how muscular Kurt was despite his leanness. As Kurt drew the T-shirt back to himself he pulled the sides of his shirt together, the motion recovering his shoulder.

  The movement made Blaine realize where his eyes had been lingering, and he snapped them back to Kurt’s face, trying not to blush.

  Kurt, for his part, was clutching the shirt to his chest and looking incredibly tense as he stuttered, “Could you—I need to—maybe if you—I, uh, I don’t want anyone to see me,” Kurt sighed in a small voice, holding the shirt up.

  Blaine felt a jerk of shame at his insensitivity. Here Kurt was, exposed, clearly uncomfortable, probably in pain, and he was ogling at him; though admittedly he hadn’t seemed to notice.

  “Yeah, of course, sorry. I’ll just wait outside and make sure no one comes in,” Blaine said, turning around promptly and letting himself out.

  Kurt sighed, feeling guilty for making Blaine leave as he turned back to the mirror and set the shirt on the sink. On one hand he felt no right to think of, let alone ask for such privacy. But between his allegiance to the authority of Miss Rowe, who had advised keeping his…markings hidden, and the fear that filled him at even the thought of the sight of the burn on his skin, he didn’t really have a choice. The words had tumbled out somewhat unbidden.

  Shaking his head he pressed him palms into his eyes and turned so the mirror was at his side. After a moment he lowered his hands enough to take his shirt off, in one swift motion this time. Without pausing, he gripped the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head, paying no mind to the way it stuck to and tugged at the raw, sensitive skin on his back.

  He tossed it on the floor beside him with the dress shirt and stood completely still for a long moment. Eyes closed, fists clenching and unclenching. Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes slowly and saw…

  Grey. Grey tiles. Right, his head was bent toward the floor.

  He raised it slowly until he could see his reflection in the mirror from the side. He’d meant to start from the top of his back and ease his way down to prepare himself, but the patch of angry red flesh drew his gaze straight to it. It was shiny, like it was wet, despite the way the edges were cracked and dry. There were two small blisters on the left where the coffee cup had pressed into him as it poured, surrounded by a circle of bright red. It faded towards pink at the edges, but even there the contrast was startling with his pale skin. Marred. Disgusting.

  He’s going to be so angry.

  The thought burst into Kurt’s mind and he fell to his knees as though hit by a strong blow. The association reaction fresh and poignant even though he’d kept his skin unblemished for years. He’d learned quickly when he was young how to be careful. How to avoid things like this. He’d had to.

  He tried to take a deep breath. Tried to tell himself that it was just an accident.  That it wasn’t his fault. That it’d heal in a week and he’d probably never even know.

  But the chant went on in his head, paralyzing all reasoning. So angry, so angry, angry. The repetition continued until the words weren’t distinct, but a constant hum, and still longer until another voice replaced it. Rougher. Quieter. And so, so angry.

  “What did I tell you? Do you listen to me at all? Or do you just like being—“

  “Kurt?” Blaine knocking on the door drew Kurt back. “Everything okay in there? Do you need help?”

  Kurt shook his head standing up quickly. “No, I’ll be out in a second he said.” He grabbed a couple paper towels, wet them slightly and ran them over the burn, the wave of pain clearing his thoughts. Then he pulled the t-shirt over the tender skin, grabbed his clothes of the floor, and opened the door to Blaine.

  “Sorry,” he said, not sure how long he’d taken.

  “No worries, are you sure you’re alright? We can go if you want?”

  Kurt shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine. You were so excited about me trying coffee, I want to do it.”

  Blaine looked at him doubtfully but nodded. “Alright. Why don’t you just go grab a seat for us and I’ll get the coffee. Did you see anything that perked your interest before, you know?” Blaine gestured at the clothes in Kurt’s hand.

  “No. I’m sure whatever you’re having is fine, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course, I’ll be right back.”

  Kurt nodded and went to sit down at the first empty table he could find. As his mind wandered he wished he’d had the nerve to insist upon accompanying Blaine. He was restless, trying to keep his thoughts from running away from him, again. He raised a hand to run through his hair and dropped it back down on the table heavily. He itched to drum his fingers against the table top like he’d seen Blaine as he dazed off in history, but was afraid of disturbing the customers around him, even if such tapping would have been nearly impossible to discern amongst the chatter and scraping of chairs.

  Just as Kurt was about to give in and go find Blaine, he appeared at the table, two tightly lidded cups in hand.

  “Alright, two medium drips. Basic, but a good introduction to coffee. And of course you can add cream and sugar if you want,” Blaine said sitting down.

  Kurt pulled the cup across the table to himself. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his eyes, which had been flickering around the room on Blaine’s trip back from the line, now trained firmly on the cup, and the steam rising from the little whole in the lid. Blaine had surprised but pleased when Kurt had said he didn’t want to go home after the incident. Now as he took in the tenseness of Kurt’s posture he wondered if he should have insisted that they do this another time. It was hardly turning out how he’d planned. Still, if Kurt was still up to trying, perhaps he could salvage the experience.

  “Of course,” Blaine said warmly.

  Kurt took a tentative sip of the coffee. Blaine watched, telling himself it was for his reaction, and not because of the way his lips pressed flush against the cup as he did so, but Kurt’s face gave away nothing as he swallowed.

  “So?”

  “It’s good,” Kurt nodded assuredly, shoulders dropping marginally, but still tense, “very good.”

  “Fantastic,” Blaine said in a perhaps overdoing it cheerful voice as he watched Kurt swirl the cup before taking another sip. “Lots of coffee dates in our future then Mr. Hummel, I come here either before or after Warblers practice almost every day,” Blaine chatted as he removed the lid from his coffee and stirred in a couple packet of sugar.

  Kurt looked over at him as he did so, eyebrows furrowing. “That is, I mean if you want to?” Blaine stuttered out, backtracking and cheeks flaring as he realized the term coffee date may have been coming on too strong.

  “Yes, of course,” Kurt said quickly, “I was just wondering, how is it different, with the sugar?” He gestured to the empty sugar packet besides Blaine’s cup.

  “Oh, just you know sweeter. I prefer it that way, some people don’t. You can try some if you want,” Blaine said, picking one out of the holder in the center of the table and holding it out to Kurt.

  “Okay,” Kurt said reaching out and taking the packet from Blaine. He flipped it in his hand to read the label. Then, as though remembering something, he jolted, dropping the packet and reaching into the pocket of his jacket. “The coffees! You must have had to pay for mine; I’m sorry. I didn’t even think ab—“

  “Kurt, it’s fine,” Blaine interrupted, “I’m more than happy to treat you to your first coffee.”

  “No, I couldn’t. Here,” Kurt said holding out a twenty.

  “Okay, one, I don’t know what kind of coffee you think you’re drinking but it doesn’t cost anywhere near that much,” Blaine said pushing Kurt hand holding the bill back at him. “Second, I want to treat you Kurt. Please, let me do this.”

  Kurt drew his gaze to meet Blaine’s. As always Blaine was unprepared but glad for the rare chance to really look into his eyes, the ever changing vibrant colors, currently cool blue with confliction. He stared at Blaine for a long moment. “Okay,” he breathed. Then, with tangible and overwhelmingly sincere gratitude, “Thank you.”

  Blaine waved it off, trying to pretend that Kurt conceding didn’t making him as happy as it did. Him paying for Kurt’s coffee didn’t necessarily make it a date after all. Unfortunately.

  Kurt turned his attention back to his coffee, picking up the sugar packet and stirring it in before taking an inquisitive sip.

  His eyes widened, gaining back a little of the curious and wondrous light they often held that Blaine had become embarrassingly fond of. “Wow.”

  Blaine let out a light laugh as Kurt reached out for another sugar packet, but he froze half way there, looking halfway over at Blaine. “Could I—I mean may—can I have another?”

  Blaine raised an eyebrow, “Yeah of course, I always take two. My cousin Lea uses five, now that’s intense,” he laughed taking a sip of his coffee as Kurt poured another packet into his own. Once it was mixed he took a large swig and actually smiled for the first time since they’d reached the coffee shop.

  “Well, obviously someone has a sweet tooth,” Blaine grinned, “I’ll be right back.”

  Kurt watched him go, a little confused as to what he meant but too preoccupied with his new favorite drink to worry about it.

  Blaine returned a moment later, setting a small plate down on the table. “Ever tried biscotti?”

  Kurt looked at the plate and shook his head.

  “They’re a cookie that’s really good dipped in coffee of tea. Try one,” Blaine encouraged.

  So Kurt did. And Blaine would swear Kurt’s eyes actually sparkled when he bit into the coffee soaked cookie. There was something beautifully youthful and uninhibited about the hurried way he dipped it back into his coffee for another bite.

What if when Dave Karofsky asked Kurt to the Sophomore Semiformal he said yes, and they had a fun time, but Kurt told him, very sweetly, when Dave tried to kiss him goodnight, that he just wanted to be friends? And Dave was sad of course, but he got over it. And they were good friends for years, eventually becoming family when Kurt’s grandson married Dave’s granddaughter?

What if at Regionals the next year The New Direction beat Vocal Adrenaline thanks to Kurt’s stunning  rendition of Defying Gravity?

What if Kurt went to his Junior Prom with Ben Stocken, a football player at a neighboring school who Finn had set him up with the year before because, while he was flattered by Kurt’s interests, he was into girls; alas. And while “Crowned Couple” went to Dave and Quinn, Kurt was fashioned and impromptu  honorary paper plate award for best dressed because, ‘Did you know he made that kilt himself?’

What if Senior year he went stag because Ben was going to school in California and neither wanted to try long distance? But it was still one of the best night of his life, dancing himself sore between his friends and screaming himself hoarse cheering when Santana and Brittany won “Crowned Couple?”

What if?

What if, a couple of hours across the state of Ohio, Blaine Anderson went to school, K-12, at Westerville High, graduating Valedictorian, Most Likely to Succeed, Best Eyes, Biggest Flirt, and, well really the superlatives page of the year book should have just been a full page photo of him?

What if he got recruited to Juilliard when a scout came to one of his piano recitals and was amazed at his talent, which had been cultivated in private lessons since he was eight and had told his Dad that while he loved watching the games, he didn’t think he liked playing football because it was too aggressive? And his Dad said that’s fine but he had to pick something to do in the afternoons until he or his mom got off work because he didn’t want him home alone?

What if he never even thought about taking up boxing?

What if when he went to the dance with Tommy Sands in eighth grade he spent half the night telling people that, no he and Tommy weren’t dating, “We’re just friends guys, gosh!” and trying not to roll his eyes at those that lingered back grinning cheekily or winking.

What if he had to worry about what his parents had been talking about before he walked in the room?

What if his tenth birthday party was karaoke themed, and someone got a great picture of him doing a split in the air moments before breaking his leg while rocking out to Brittney Spears’s

“Oops! I did it again”? And his parent got it blown up, framed and hung it over the fireplace, so that it was always a conversation piece when company came, and he never said anything but that always made Cooper a little jealous?

What if he had his first crush on his first grade teacher, Mr. Morey. And all the parents smiled warmly at open house when he followed him around with wide eyes and presented a picture of the teacher as a prince, because, ‘Aren’t kids just the cutest?’

Well, if all that were true, the following would also be:

Kurt Hummel would never be bullied. He would never have his first kiss stolen. He would never be sent to spy at Dalton. He would never have transferred there. He would never know the not so short shortcut to the Senior Commons.

And neither would Blaine Anderson ever be bullied. He would never be beaten up at his eighth grade dance. He never would sing with the Warblers. He hold a boys hand at an awkward angle as they ran down the corridor, not letting go because of the way his eyes lit up at the contact.

Still...

Even if Kurt Hummel wasn’t possessed with a desperate need to get out of Lima, his heart would still be set on New York. He would still make it into NYADA (on his first try thanks very much to his four year streak as male in the school plays and position as Senior Class President), and he would still make a lasting, if exasperating friendship with Rachel Berry, allowing her to drag him down to Callback EVERY Saturday night to check out the “competition.”

Even if Blaine Anderson went to Juilliard because he hadn’t been held back a year, and he didn’t think his parents prefered it because it was more “structured,” than NYADA, he would still love to perform. He would still possess an easy charisma that earned him a network of friends that extended into the musical theater academy, including one Miss Rachel Berry who encourage him to try the open mike at Callbacks at least once.

And when he did she would introduce him to her friend from high school immediately when he came off the stage after six songs, even as people cheered for another.

And when Blaine took Kurt’s hand in the crowded hangout, his head would spin in a way that would make Blaine think he’d drank too much, if he didn’t know he’d only had one beer.

And when he met Kurt’s gorgeous glasz eyes the thought would hit him, “Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you forever.”

And Kurt would think he was cute, sure, and agree to a dance that turned into several more. Although it would take a while before Kurt agreed to make it official, because he just got out of a relationship with Adam, and could he really date someone so fond of high waters?

In fact, in this version of things, its not until Blaine talks about going abroad his Junior year, and the thought of saying goodbye to him makes Kurt choke on his Chinese, that whatever was holding him back finally shatters in a moment of clarity and he asks Blaine if he’ll be his boyfriend. And Blaine pours Wonton soup all over his lap as his jaw hangs open because he’s asked Kurt that over twenty times now and if he’s joking it’s not funny!

But he’s not. So then they’re boyfriends. And a few years later they’re husbands. And several years after that they’re fathers. And so on.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and pulling Kurt across the doorstep and into his arms, holding him tight for a moment and pressing a kiss to his cheek as he pulls away. “I missed you.”

  It’s not a lie. Technically, not in the slightest. Blaine had felt Kurt’s absence from the halls of Dalton every moment of that week. The sensation was an unpleasant mix of a dull ache between third and fourth ribs on the left hand side, and a burning pressure behind his eyes.

  However, by the mentality that omission of the truth is the same as lying, it’s an outrageous lie.

  Because he doesn’t say that he had been at the door for the last two and a half hours because he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the time until he got to see Kurt.

  He doesn’t tell Kurt that he snapped at Jeff the day before at Warbler practice even though it was  he who bumped into him because he hadn’t been paying attention. He hadn’t all week. He couldn’t stop picturing Kurt with his weak impression of the Dalton uniform standing in the doorway.

  He doesn’t mention that when Kurt sent him the picture of himself in his “Born This Way” t-shirt, one moment he was smiling with pride, and the next moment the taste of rust and salt was in his mouth as he bit back the thought of the question:

  When did we switch? When did it get so that I need you more than you need me?

  Or that, unspoken, the bitterness at Kurt’s newfound, independent confidence, even in an environment that makes Blaine’s own stomach turn at the thought of returning to, had him at the bunching bag in the Dalton gym until late in the evening the next day, his knuckles bleeding through the tape and the gloves meant to protect them.

  And as Kurt smiles just a little wider at him and says “I missed you too,” making up for the torturously long week in an instant, he doesn’t admit how close to tears he was with his chin tucked over Kurt shoulder when Kurt threw his arms around him after the Warbler’s performance of “Somewhere Only We Know,” as he squeezed back with the desperate hope that he could hold on to him just a little longer.

  Because yes the past week had been hard. And yes it had filled Blaine with insecure fears and fleeting resentment and oh so so much doubt.

  But with Kurt in front of him again the last thing he had said to him rings in his ears, pushing though the haze that had settled the moment he had looked away from Kurt as he climbed the McKinley steps.

  “I’m never saying goodbye to you.”

  Kurt had developed this habit of saying exactly what Blaine needed to hear. And he wasn’t sure how because, even now, he hadn’t really shown Kurt how insecure he can be. How he worries endlessly and overthinks things endlessly. How he doubts, at the slightest hint of trouble.

  And yet somehow Kurt had found the words at that moment to tell him everything he needed to be assured of. Words that said he was not leaving. Words that said he cared.

  Words that said that Kurt Fucking Flawless Hummel thinks Blaine is worth holding on to.

  And the thought of ‘never saying goodbye?’ Never?

  It makes Blaine warm. And as Kurt follows him up the stairs, he doesn’t worry why. As they make out on the bed he doesn’t push down the feeling of a certain three words dancing on his tongue, making his fingers and toes tingle. Later, when Kurt leaves and he kisses him goodnight, and they’re still there keeping him warm, he doesn’t feel scared or ashamed that they might not do the same for Kurt.

  It doesn’t make him sad or angry or disappointed that he can’t voice them, not yet, not even to himself.

  Because they’re there, whenever he’s with Kurt. And being with Kurt is perfect.

Besides, hadn’t he been saying he wanted to meet Mercedes for weeks? She was Kurt’s best friend after all, which off course didn’t make him jealous either. He and Kurt had only been hanging out a couple of weeks. He had lots of other friends too. Like Wes, who was best friends with David. Or Nick, who was best friends with Jeff.

  Maybe next time he would invite a Warbler or two along. Or maybe they could go to a show that only had two tickets available…

  As Kurt and Mercedes laughed about something about some crazy coach Blaine decided on the later. The timing of the deciding was just coincidence though of course. Wanting to spend some quality time one on one with a new friend did not make him jealous. Just like that fleeting rush of warmth in his gut that had occurred when Kurt had nudged him over in the booth to sit next to him (not Mercedes) meant nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  Besides if he was jealous would he have tried to engage Mercedes in a conversation about football? She certainly was making no attempt at friendly conversation with him. In fact, she had seem rather checked out the whole evening though. Which as little as Blaine liked to admit it bothered him less because it was a tad bit rude and more because of the possibility that she and Kurt were so close, such contained best friends, that even as he sat next to him and they chatted non stop across from her, he appeared no threat to her. That it was obvious to her that Kurt was no where near as invested as him.

  Not that he was over invested or anything. He just liked making new friends.

  If Kurt was his best friend though he certainly wouldn’t let anyone swoop in and snatch him away without a fight.

  When Kurt brought up Patti Lupone’s new book Blaine glanced over at Mercedes, ready for them to start gushing about sleepovers on the night of releases where they’d stay up and read together. But Mercedes, to his surprise, look completely bewildered. He glanced back at Kurt’s face, gleaming with excitement. Surely this wasn’t the first time he’d brought up a Patti Lupone. What was she doing if not keeping up with everything that could keep that expression on his face? Glancing quickly back and forth between them once more he responded eargerly, playing off his hesitation as a joke.

  As he and Kurt went on to talk about Marion Colltiard’s Vogue cover (that woman is a goddess) Blaine stole intermittent glances back at Mercedes, who seemed to check out completely once he food arrived, though she smile and nod when Kurt addressed her.

  Maybe, Blaine thought, perhaps she did realize what she had was worth. Though sitting side by side with Kurt he didn’t quite understand how anyone could miss how special he was. But maybe he didn’t need to be jealous (yeah, okay he was jealous), because maybe Kurt didn’t have a best friend either, not really. Sure, he had the Warblers, and they were great guys, and Mercedes was probably a lot better then he was giving her credit for, but hanging out with Kurt just felt like someone finally got it. Simple as that, something had clicked from that first moment on the stairs.

  Maybe, just maybe Kurt felt the same way. Blaine smiled over at him, enjoying the way his teeth peeked out when he laughed. If that was the case, he could definitely work with that.

  Twenty minutes later found them sitting on a bench along the sidewalk, Blaine’s arm wrapped around Kurt and he leaning contentedly into him. Occasionally they would get a bit of a look as someone passed, but such acts had had long since stopped having an effect on the two. Growing up to have all your dreams come true while your high school romance and first love persisted through thick and did something to make one comfortable in their own skin and a way that couldn’t be bristled by anything, let alone prejudice.

  “We should probably head back soon,” Blaine whispered in Kurt’s ear before placing a light kiss on the hollow beneath it.

  Somewhere in their sun-basking Kurt’s eyes had fluttered closed, and now they scrunched close tightly in mock protest, “No, just gonna stay here forever,” he declared, bringing Blaine’s hand, which was intertwined with his, up to kiss his palm.

  Blaine laughed lightly at that. “Okay,” he agreed simply, moving his arms to wind around Kurt’s waist and pull him back against him, closer, and setting his chin on Kurt’s shoulder.

  Kurt turned his face to give him a lazy smile, “Love you.”

  “Love you too, always,” Blaine returned, giving him a quick peck.

  As he drew back he found the lazy blissfulness had left Kurt’s face. In its place Kurt was staring intensely, eyes seeming to bore into Blaine.

  Kurt stared at Blaine, the almost gone sun cast long shadows on his face on a backdrop of deep pinks and oranges. Stared at his bright, wide, warm eyes, his easy smile, stared at them seeing a million other things at that one word, always.

  It felt like a long moment, to both, but in reality it was only a second later that Kurt’s face broke and he grinned slightly. The grin grew wide as he continued to stare, eyes shining with something Blaine couldn’t quite place.

  “You’re beautiful when you while like that.”

  Kurt bites him lip, but his lips twitch up at the corner. The expression is one that’s usually followed by happy tears but now Kurt takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, collecting himself.

His eyes are intent on Blaine again when he reopens them.

  Reaching up he drags a finger along the side of Blaine’s face slowly, a gentle smile on his face know but eyes still shining with that same something as before. “You’re beautiful,” he says simply.

  Blaine laughs shortly, “You always have to outdo me don’t you?” he says with a small wink, because yeah, it still does things to him when Kurt ‘wins.’

  “As a matter of fact I do,” Kurt says suddenly standing and pulling Blaine with him. “Up for one more stop before we head home?” he asks.

  “Uh, sure?” Blaine says as they make their way back to the car, “Where to?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Kurt says giddly, practically hopping into the car.

  Blaine quirks an eyebrow, the behavior not exactly characteristic, but he shrugs and gets into the passenger side, going with it.

  Which brings us back to where we started, Blaine, staring out the window, trying to deduce the mystery location.

  Then Kurt is putting in their CD in and singing alone, and Blaine has pulled his face away from the window in no time to join him.

  Grinning widely at the memories the harmonize their way through “Teenage Dream,” “Candles,” “Perfect,” and many more, having slightly under seven years of experiences and memories to work with.

  It’s a sufficient distraction, and Blaine takes no note of their surrounding until they turn onto a long drive and an ornate building comes into view.

  “Uh, Kurt? Why are we at Dalton?” Blaine asks bewildered.

  “Oh, just feeling nostalgic,” Kurt said, too innocently, but Blaine decided not to question it.

  Kurt parked and they got out. Blaine expected him to lead them around back to the courtyards or something but he made his way towards the main doors.

  “Kurt, where are you going? Its nine o’clock at night in the middle of the summer, that’s not gonna be open!” Blaine called from behind, jogging to keep up with Kurt’s swift pace.

  Kurt suddenly pulled a key out of his pocket, “True but this may help,” he said stopping and turning around to face Blaine with a smirk.

  Blaine stopped as he caught up at him and looked between Kurt and the key. “What-How?” he spluttered for a second before it clicked. “You planned this!” he shouted.

  Kurt merely shrugged, turning around to open the door and heading in. Blaine followed quickly, deeply intrigued now.

  “Kurt what’s going on?” he asked reaching out to grab Kurt’s arm, stopping him and making him face him.

  Finally having him still and facing him Blaine noted several things. Kurt’s eyes were darting around with excitement. Once in a while they would meet Blaine’s then flash away with a lightly, quickly repressed blush. His knees were bouncing in an anxious way. It took Blaine a second to add up the cues he hadn’t to identify in years. Kurt was nervous.

  Blaine couldn’t imagine why but set his hands firmly on his shoulders and rubbed them in a reassuring way.

  “You’re acting really worked up, is everything ok?”

  Kurt relaxed immediately under Blaine’s touch. Taking in Blaine’s concerned expression he took a deep breath and smiled back at him.

  “Everything is perfect,” he assured him, kissing him soundly.

  Sensing Kurt’s familiar confidence in his voice Blaine smiled into the kiss and went to wrap his arms around his neck, but Kurt was already pulling back, catching Blaine’s bottom lip in his teeth and tugging it on the way in a way that he knew always made Blaine’s breath catch.

  “C’mon,” he whispered pulling Blaine along again.

  Blaine followed, now that Kurt’s excitement seemed to overshadow any anxiousness.

  In a few short moments they were at the top of a very familiar staircase, the site of which warmed Blaine’s heart. He went to pull Kurt into another embrace but before he could Kurt released his hand and hurried down the stairs, slowing down dramatically about a third of the way from the bottom.

  “Care to join me Mr. Anderson?” Kurt said without turning around, his voice teasing. “Perhaps check the time on your way?” he asked and Blaine could practically hear his eyebrow rise in its smug way.

   Everything finally clicked it to place, nostalgic indeed. Smiling Blaine made his way steadily down the step pulling out his stop watch (which may or may not have been the same one he carries to day because of the particular moment their reenacting). He gives it a quick glance before sliding it back in his pocket as he passes Kurt, waiting to be called about by a gorgeous voice.

  Kurt doesn’t disappoint.

  “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?”

  For a reason Blaine can not imagine Kurt’s voice is slightly higher than normal and a little breathy, almost shaking at the end.

  He turns, ready to meet those eyes again, knowing they will be just as beautiful as the first time, as breath-taking as every time.

  The sight that greats him stops him short. His face is warm and his legs are jelly and it feels like falling but actually he’s completely frozen, because breath-taking doesn’t even begin to cover it.

  Because Kurt is down on one knee before him, his breath coming shakily over his lips in a way that makes perfect sense now.

  His eyes look like exploding stars, fleck of blue, green and gold burning with love, adoration, and an endless array of intense emotion around the wide black pupils that scream with depth and sincerity.

  Because Kurt is holding a small dark velvet box in his hand, open and presented to Blaine.

  And inside is a stunning white gold band studded with tiny diamonds, their presence evident only because of the slight shimmer they give off, giving the ring a classy other-worldly effect.

  “Blaine Everett Anderson,” Kurt begins smiling warmly but his voice is still a little breathy. “Since the moment you walked into my life on these very steps you’ve brought with you endless happiness. You make me feel happy, Blaine, and safe, and loved, everyday. And if you’d give me the chance I would like to return the favor, everyday, for the rest of our lives. Because ‘I’m crazy about you,’ and ‘you move me,’” Kurt says grinning wider at the glint of recognition in Blaine’s eyes.

  “And I am so proud to be with you…” and now Blaine’s eyes are wet. “…and would be so proud to be your husband. Will you marry me?”

  Blaine tackles him, and not in a cute playful way. In a legs falling out from under him, collapsing heavily on Kurt and pining him to the stairs.

  And then he’s kissing Kurt with searing passion.

  “Yes,” he says earnestly when he finally breaks away, only to move his lips to Kurt’s neck. “Yes,” he repeats again and again between each kiss as he moves down his neck.

  “Of course,” he says moving up to kiss both Kurt’s eyelids, “God, Kurt, yes!” he exclaims.

  Finally he pulls back to look Kurt in the eyes, keeping they’re forehead pressed together. They’re breathing heavily, both their cheeks are wet, and they’re smiling ridiculously.

  “Give me your hand,” Kurt whispers.

  Blaine rocks back on his heels, pulling with his and leaving his left hand in his.

  Kurt takes the ring out of the box and slides it on Blaine’s finger, leaning in to kiss it. Pulling back he stares for a moment before he raises his eyes to Blaine’s face, smiling brilliantly.

  But Blaine stares at the ring on his finger for a long moment more before his own gaze rises to meet Kurt.

  “I love it,” he says kissing Kurt soundly. “I love you,” he continues, pushing Kurt back again and kissing him more, pushing his tongue into Kurt’s mouth, who accepts happily. Pushing his hands up and under Kurt’s shirt to feel his perfectly smooth, currently very hot skin.

  Kurt tries to get out an “I love you too,” but its swallowed in Blaine’s mouth. Blaine’s hands are running over his chest and he hitches a leg over his waist and yes it’s a little awkward because they’re lying on the stair, but the moments a little too intense to worry about that.

  Suddenly Blaine’s gone, standing up and pulling Kurt with him, setting off quickly down the hallway.

  “Blaine!” Kurt gasps, at the sudden movement, “Where are we going?”

  “That stair is not the only place we have memories in this school, I think it’s about time it’s about time we became reacquainted with the janitor’s closet,” Blaine says, stopping at said location.

  Kurt smirks, “I like the way you think Mr. Anderson,” he says pushing Blaine into the closet.

  “That’s Mr. Hummel-Anderson to you, Mr. Hummel-Anderson,” Blaine almost growls slamming the door shut behind them.

  It’s the sound of the start of forever.

  Because they’ll love each other.