CHAPTER 6

The project is coming together smoothly and by the end of the third week Kurt has to admit to himself that he’s going to sorely miss the afternoons spent in Blaine’s company. It’s not like they will have any reason to meet outside of school once it’s done. Sure, they are friendly towards each other and always talk a little after they’re done working, but that’s it. And their relationship – or lack thereof – at school never changed at all. For all everyone knows, Kurt and Blaine barely notice each other. It has to be this way, Kurt keeps telling himself every time he wants to sit by Blaine in Glee or at lunch; every time he notices something funny or interesting that he knows Blaine would appreciate when no one else around Kurt would. He can’t go against the status quo. It would be stupid and dangerous, and could ruin everything Kurt has built in the last two years to protect himself.

But then again, he doesn’t want to just let Blaine disappear from his life, not after getting that tiny taste of what it would be like to be his friend. He just doesn’t really know what he could do – or rather, he knows, but is almost certain he wouldn’t dare to do it. Because he is the problem here, not Blaine; he is the one who would have to open up and offer something more than the obligatory class project. He’s almost certain Blaine is open to the idea of meeting with Kurt again, hanging out – movies, coffee, shopping, whatever. His social calendar isn’t exactly stuffed and he seems to like Kurt, too. But…

Yeah, Kurt would have to drop his defenses and let Blaine in, let him see beyond Kurt the Cheerleader. Because Kurt wants a real friend, and you can’t really be friends with someone unless you are real yourself. And he’s just not ready for this. Frankly, he’s terrified just thinking about it.

How can he be sure he can trust Blaine with this knowledge? One well directed piece of gossip and the whole intricate lie of Kurt’s image would shatter. And who would have better motivation to use any discriminating knowledge than someone at the bottom of the social ladder? Not that Kurt has ever hurt or bullied Blaine personally, but there may be a grudge there, right? He can’t risk it.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself every time his heart aches with yearning to have a true friend at last. Even though there’s a part of him that’s absolutely certain that Blaine’s not that guy; that he deserves the trust.

Kurt can’t risk it. He just adds friendship to the list of things he can’t have until he’s out of here, along with honesty, music, fashionable clothes and love.

It’s all because of a stupid headache.

Kurt’s supposed to drive to Blaine’s house for the last time on the Monday before their project is due, after Cheerios practice. They need to wrap up the final details and go over the presentation once again. Instead, Kurt ends up back in his darkened room half an hour after classes end. Coach Sylvester sent him home when he almost passed out during warm-ups. He has these intense headaches sometimes – nothing that a dose of Advil and an hour of nap wouldn’t help, but he’s pretty useless while it lasts, weak and nauseous, his vision blurry from the pain.

He has enough clarity of mind to call Blaine before dropping to the bed with a cold compress. The phone is picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Kurt, what’s up?” Blaine sounds terribly chipper. And loud.

“Ow, shh.” Kurt knows he croaks, but he can’t be bothered right now. It hurts. “Sorry, I have a headache from hell. Could you come over to my house instead? Around six? I need to lie down for an hour or two.”

Blaine’s voice is barely more than a whisper now.

“Sorry. Sure, just give me your address. Are you sure you still want to do this today?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine by then.” Kurt dictates his address, hangs up and a moment later, he’s out of it.

He wakes up from the nap without the headache, but his mind is still fuzzy and half-asleep. A quick shower helps only a little and he’s just brewed a pot of fresh coffee when the doorbell rings, announcing Blaine’s arrival.

“Coffee?” Kurt offers in lieu of a greeting as he opens the door, a cup of his café-au-lait clutched tightly to his chest.

Blaine smiles widely, stepping in. “Never say no to coffee. How’s your head?”

“Still asleep. But much better.” Kurt leaves him to take off his jacket and moves to the kitchen to take out the second mug. Blaine joins him a minute later. “How do you take it?”

“Black, sweet.”

Kurt pours the coffee, points to the sugar bowl and teaspoons and dives back into his coffee mug. When he looks up again, his brain stirring awake, he suddenly notices the change in Blaine. He’s dressed in simple jeans and a striped long-sleeved t-shirt, but the biggest difference are his glasses. These are much smaller than the monstrosities Blaine wears to school – the lenses rectangular and thin-framed; they suit him, accentuating his features instead of distorting and covering them. Kurt makes a mistake of looking once again and…

Damn. His eyes. Blaine has the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. Hazel? Amber? Golden? It’s hard to say with the artificial light and glass reflecting it, but they’re so warm and kind, and the long eyelashes make them irresistibly beautiful.

Kurt feels something new and foreign, a flutter somewhere beneath his ribs, a gasp ready to take off and fly, so he forces himself to look away. It’s the fuzziness of his brain. An aftereffect of the headache. Some leftover confusion from the nap. Better to go start on the project.

Coffee in hand, he leads Blaine downstairs to his room, still busy actively ignoring his reaction. It’s only when he pushes open the door and they come in that he stops abruptly, coffee sloshing around, almost spilling.

What was he thinking, taking Blaine down here? They could work comfortably in the kitchen – even more comfortably, probably, and without the feeling that this boy, this brave, smart, forbidden boy is now looking into Kurt’s very soul with intrigued expression. Because while Kurt has no way of knowing what Blaine expected to see in his room – probably all sorts of Cheerios awards and memorabilia, and posters of girls – he is absolutely certain it wasn’t this. It’s the first time he’s sharing his sanctuary with anyone, even Quinn has never been here, and it feels unbearably intimate.

Blaine takes a long while looking around, and Kurt knows what he sees – the carefully chosen colors and textures, every detail planned and thought out. His vanity with its plethora of beauty products, the CD stand full of Broadway soundtracks, old standards, Lady Gaga, Whitney, Celine... The shelf with Kurt’s DVDs, taken over by musicals and old classics. His half-open closet with dozens of daring, perfectly matched designer outfits he hardly ever gets to wear.

Blaine’s eyes finish their final swipe of the room and rest on Kurt’s face, curious and kind; and he’s never felt so vulnerable and open. Ever.

“Kurt, your room is amazing!” Kurt lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Why does he care that much about this guy’s opinion anyway? “Are you sure you’re not gay? With a taste like this?”

The question is clearly an attempt at a lighthearted joke, a slight tease, but for a second Kurt stands paralyzed. What if he said he was? What if he admitted it finally, to someone other than himself? To this boy who is cuter and smarter and tougher than anyone gives him credit for; surely he would understand?

But it’s insane, of course. He can’t, not before he’s in college somewhere far away; nobody can know until then. And what is he thinking? He hardly knows Blaine, he’s probably idealizing him. For all he knows, the guy can have a big mouth and a cruel streak. Kurt’s biggest secret would probably end up plastered all over McKinley’s walls in a heartbeat, a well deserved revenge for the hard times the cheerios have been giving Blaine all along.

So he scoffs – attempts to scoff anyway. “Of course not, haven’t you seen my girlfriend?”

But it comes out weak, his voice breaking over the lie; his eyes sting treacherously and he can’t stop two tears sliding hot down his cheeks. Kurt freezes, mortified – it’s as good as a confession unless he thinks quickly, turns it into something else. But his brain refuses to cooperate, and the next instant Blaine’s hand is on his cheek, broad and warm, his thumb wiping a tear away. His eyes are earnest and concerned when Kurt dares to look up. He feels a tear trembling on the swell of his lower lip and then it’s gone too with a gentle stroke of a thumb, and Kurt shudders. God, it shouldn’t feel like this, it’s just a touch of a fingertip…

“Kurt, are you alright?” Blaine looks worried now and Kurt comes back to himself with a startle.

“What? Yeah, of course, sorry. Just… just a bad day and then the headache, I guess I’m a bit out of sorts. Sorry, we should start on the presentation.”

Miraculously, Blaine leaves it at that, nodding and stepping away, the room suddenly colder.

“Sure. What do you want to start with?”

Their meeting doesn’t go too well this time. Kurt is tense and anxious, so they only talk about the project, and every bit of silence seems stilted and awkward. Blaine goes home as soon as they are done, a trace of sadness in his eyes – or maybe it’s just what Kurt wants to see there, because his own sadness is gnawing at his heart, hidden deep under all his layers.

By nightfall, Kurt has convinced himself that Blaine knows already, and that he won’t hesitate to use this information against him. He barely sleeps that night, expecting hell in school the next day. He can’t believe he basically told the guy he barely knows about his true self. And not just any guy – the guy who has every reason to use it against him after everything Kurt never stopped his girls or his jock “friends” from doing. It would be a fair revenge for all the slushies and taunting in the corridors, every homophobic slur. True, Kurt may never have participated in the bullying himself, but he watched it all too often, with a smirk plastered to his face, part of his long-learned façade. It doesn’t matter that in his heart, he wanted to stop all this. What matters is that he never did. And now he’s going to pay for it.

Kurt briefly considers faking a cold or a stomachache so that he can stay home, but decides against it – better to get this over with. But by the time he steps out of his car in the McKinley parking lot, his stomach is clenching so hard he really regrets eating any breakfast. Taking a deep breath, head held high, his superior bored expression in place, Kurt enters the school, ready for anything they may throw at him. Or at least as ready as he’ll ever be.

Except nothing happens.

Everyone still looks at him with the mixture of awe and anxiety or, in some girls’ cases, adoration. Quinn is waiting at his locker, as she often does, to greet him with a kiss. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but it still doesn’t mean Kurt’s safe. The moment he sees Blaine for the first time today, he tries to gauge the boy’s reaction, but either there is nothing different about it or Blaine Anderson is one hell of an actor. He just smiles at Kurt, the way he always does, and goes his own way. How can he have such ammunition and not use it? How? There’s no threat in Blaine’s eyes, no knowing smirk on his face; he behaves as if nothing happened last night – as if Kurt Hummel, McKinley’s most popular boy and head cheerleader, didn’t practically tell him that against what everyone knows, he’s gay. A gay boy, loving fashion and musicals, and old movies; not a loud, bitchy athlete who enjoys the privilege of regular makeout sessions with the ice queen herself, Quinn Fabray.

Kurt is still tense for the rest of the day, but as hours fly by, it becomes clear that nothing is going to happen – no outing, no scandal. By the time Glee is over, Kurt is determined to talk to Blaine. He can’t live every day like this, not knowing where he stands.

So he sends his unholy trinity of girls away and catches up with Blaine before he has a chance to leave the choir room, the last one as usual.

“Hey, wait, can we talk? About yesterday?”

Blaine stops, surprised.

“Yesterday? Is there anything we forgot to cover?”

“What? Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s just… about my reaction, you know-“

Blaine smiles – his normal, warm smile without a hint of a threat.

“Kurt. You had a bad day, I get it. I’m not going to draw any conclusions from your reactions if that’s what you’re worried about. I won’t talk about you with anyone, unless we’re discussing the project. I know you don’t want to be associated with me. So relax. It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow in History and then you’ll be free of me.”

With that, Blaine’s gone, leaving Kurt torn somewhere between relieved and deeply, painfully ashamed.