Chapter 3 - Competitive Arguing

To Rachel: He's not here.

From Rachel: Again?

To Rachel: Again.

From Finn: Do you guys have to text? She's like a floor below you dude.

To Rachel: Come up?

Kurt was led on the floor of his bedroom, looking not dissimilar from a starfish and glaring at his window. It was raining again. ‘Pathetic fallacy' he thought, and then kicked himself. He was not miserable because Blaine hadn't shown up for the fourth night running. Besides, it was always raining. Rachel appeared around the doorway. She eyed Kurt up and down for a moment before walking over to him and shoving her foot into his stomach.

"Kurt Hummel. Sectionals are tomorrow. Your NYADA audition is in 4 weeks. You're not even going to be here in 4 months. Will you get a grip?!"

This had happened once before, two months ago, and Kurt had forgotten how painful it was. After several minutes of rolling around on the floor Kurt pulled himself up onto his bed, keeping a wary distance from his best friend.

"Is it imperative that you do that?"

Rachel shrugged, "got you up didn't it?"

Kurt scowled. Unfortunately, Rachel was the only person other than Blaine that wasn't intimidated by Kurt's perfectly shaped eyebrows.

***

From Rachel: just go! Sectionals is in 10 hours and I need to sleep.

It was midnight when Kurt finally made the decision. It was midnight when Kurt finally let himself realise that hate was probably not the only thing he felt for Blaine Anderson. He wasn't sure exactly what the feeling was, he wasn't ruling out hate altogether, but he knew he missed the face appearing at the window every night. Four weeks is a long time when you're eighteen. Burt was snoring in the bedroom below the attic. Or Carol was snoring, Kurt didn't like to ask. The fact he could hear noises from his father's bedroom was a source of great distress to him and he didn't particularly want to draw anyone else's attention to the fact. He had no shoes. Well, he had slippers, but it was raining and the thought of his Vivienne Westwood slippers getting wet was enough to make him cry. Kurt had made the decision to knock on Blaine's window. He slid out of bed and tip-toed across to the window and as with so many other nights pulled himself out onto the roof. It seemed strangely different without Blaine. Normally, the roof had an air of sanctuary to it; tonight it just seemed like a roof. The wind howled over the houses, Kurt shivered and pulled his dressing gown tightly around him, suddenly regretting his new found spontaneity.  He walked unsteadily to Blaine's window, his heart thudding against his ribcage. How had Blaine done this with such confidence the first time he had slid himself into Kurt's room? With every step, his heartbeat grew louder and louder until he was sure Blaine would have been able to hear him coming if he was in Africa. He rested his shaking hands against Blaine's window sill, attempting to find the courage that had been building in him all evening. He'd left it in bed apparently. He took a deep breath and knocked on the window three times, as quietly as possible.

He waited for several minutes before a bleary eyed, bushy haired Blaine stuck his head through the window. "Kurt?" he said croakily, "hang on, let me get my glasses."

"You wear glasses? Since when?"

"Since always, just a minute."

Blaine disappeared back into his room and Kurt remained on the roof, shivering, wondering if the Anderson family were aware of the term ‘hospitality'. Blaine reappeared wearing a pair of thickly framed glasses. "Right, oh, hi, there you are."

"You look adorable with glasses on, why don't you wear them more?"

"I think you answered your own question there."

"Grumpy."

"Is there any particular reason you're here?"

Kurt was taken aback by this reaction. There was no humour in Blaine's voice - the question was entirely genuine. "Well, I was... I was just wondering where you'd been this past couple of days."

"I've been... erm, I've been busy."

"Liar." Kurt replied. He wasn't stupid. He knew Blaine hadn't been busy, he'd heard the familiar sound of Blaine playing his guitar late at night. "What are you lying for?"

"I'm not lying okay? Will you just go away?!" Blaine was looking anxiously towards his bedroom door, as if there was something behind it he was afraid of. He looked back at Kurt, "please?"

The rain thundered over the roof harder than ever, each drop felt like a needle, pricking Kurt every time they hit him.

"Look, you're soaking, please just go home." The fear in Blaine's voice was getting more and more obvious. Kurt reached out and touched Blaine's arm, who yanked his own away, as if Kurt was made of fire. Kurt blinked rapidly. "What's changed? What's happened?"

"Nothing."

"Please, I can help. What's happened?"

"Nothing!" Blaine bellowed, frustration rising in his voice, "will you just leave!"

Kurt straightened up, he could tell there was something wrong with Blaine, he wanted to hold onto that knowledge. But right now all Kurt felt was hurt and angry, "fine. I'll go.  But don't you dare act like I'm being irrational here Blaine. Don't you dare. I can't believe I even... whatever."

Kurt stormed away back to his own room.  Blaine slid the window shut behind him and watched as the dark shadow of his father's feet disappeared from under his door

***

Kurt fell into his seat. Unfortunately, he'd managed to find himself perched in the middle of Mr. Schuester and Miss. Pillsbury. As far away from Rachel as was possible and stuck with the obnoxiously bad flirting passed between the two teachers. The Hipster's performance wasn't bad, but it was nothing special. It was quite inspirational, Kurt supposed, that these old people were still interested in singing, but all they really seemed to represent was lost hope. He rolled his eyes; he was even depressing himself now. Peering over the back of his seat at Rachel he could see she was watching the performance intently, mouthing the lyrics. He smiled slightly. The Hipsters swayed on stage for another couple of songs and then the curtains drew and darkness fell. Kurt wriggled out of his seat and crawled under the legs of his teammates until he reached Rachel, who was busily telling Finn every single choreography problem the Hipster's had had. Finn, needless to say, was staring absent-mindedly at Rachel's chest and nodding every few seconds.

"Rachel!" Kurt whispered from the floor.

"Kurt? Sit down! It's about start."

"Not important. Listen, it's really important that we win."

Rachel gave Kurt her ‘remember who you're talking to' look and pointed him back to his seat. Grudgingly, Kurt crawled back to his seat and made rude gestures to Rachel under cover of darkness.

And then the Warblers came on, their backs to the audience. As the lights went up, Kurt could just about make Blaine's silhouette out amongst all the uniform clad boys. The music started. The Warblers turned and Blaine started to sing. Kurt's mouth fell open. Never in a million years had he expected Blaine to be the lead soloist, hell; he hadn't even expected him to be good. But here he was, Blaine Anderson, irritatingly amazing at everything. Every note he sang hung in the air for a few seconds as if taunting Kurt. Small shivers ran down his spine, as well as some other areas of his body he would have preferred not to have reacted. His body was letting him down as usual. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rachel trying to get his attention but, to his intense annoyance, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the blazer wearing idiot on stage. Luckily, Mr. Shue hurried them away to their dressing room before the Warblers' performance could influence Kurt's wayward hormones any more. Rachel caught him up as he walked unsteadily away from the auditorium, "that was Blaine wasn't it?"

Kurt nodded, not quite trusting his voice to have returned to a suitable octave.

The New Directions performance flew by. The crowd applauded Rachel's jaw dropping performance as per and Kurt remained a minimal part. Normally, he didn't mind being second best to Rachel and Finn. He loved watching Rachel sing and well, Finn annoyed him, but brothers are supposed to be annoying. But today, he wished he could have been graced with a bigger part, simply so he could have shown off his own talent. He did not want to be outdone by Blaine Anderson. It did however give him opportunity to scan the crowd. Blaine watched him intently throughout the entire performance.

***

"You were good."

Kurt whirled around and found himself, like so many other times, face to face with Blaine Anderson. Kurt looked him up and down, his eyes filled with utter contempt. "I'm aware, we won."

The warbler smiled his oh so charming smile, "I think you're meant to say ‘so were you'."

"Well why the hell should I Blaine? You made it quite clear last night that you wanted nothing to do with my opinions!" The anger overtook him suddenly, his face glowing red.

"You know that's not true! You know... you know that's not true."

"No Blaine. I don't. Because you know we've only known each other what? Four, five weeks and all I've done is reject your stupid advances. Because I'm clever Blaine," hot tears were rising now, "I'm clever and I know what you're like. I know who you are. You're that guy; you're the guy who every single person in this whole place wants to be. And you wanted me and I hated everything you are. I hate every single thing you're pretending to be. But sometimes we're on that roof and you look at me with those eyes, those stupid, gorgeous eyes. And the one time, the one time I decide to let my guard down, you... fuck!"  Kurt's voice gave out.

"It's not like that!"

"Well what is it like?"

"I just can't!" Blaine shouted.

"What are you so afraid of!?"

Blaine looked at him, the exasperation in his eyes merely weariness now. "Everything."

Kurt walked over to Blaine. They looked at each other for a moment; Kurt's body was still radiating frustration. "Liar," he growled. He could feel Blaine's heart pounding against him, every muscle quivering slightly. Kurt leaned in and pressed his lips against Blaine's.

And the world froze.