He was unable to sleep that night. Images of Kurt plagued him and the harder he tried to figure out why, the more confusing it became. He knew what adolescent hormones felt like, and this was different but the same all at once. It was confusing and painful because whatever it was, he hated Kurt Hummel with every fiber of his being. Or he was supposed to at least. Even the idea of not hating him was foreign and uncomfortable. It left a bad taste in his mouth but it also set his abdomen on fire in so many different ways. It was more than lust and it was more than anger. It was confusing and it was wearing him out. If he didn't hate Kurt already, then he hated him now for confusing him so much.

It started with the look in Kurt's eyes that first time in the lunchroom. Blaine had seen it a few other times but he never really thought to make much of it. An enemy is an enemy and to allow yourself to see any good in them is only a fault of your own. Blaine wasn't going to be that faulty person, feeling compassion for someone who won't openly feel compassion for anyone else. But now it was clawing at his gut, screaming to be released. The scenes kept flashing in his head and he couldn't make them go away. He saw them on the back of his eyelids and in the air when he opened his eyes, like a projected hologram in an alien film. His mind wandered to those scenes while he played guitar or walked Hermy. He caught himself staring into space during meals at the dining room table, wondering what Kurt's lips tasted like or how soft his skin was under the rough fabric of his uniform. On more than one occasion he had to physically shake his head to rid himself of his thoughts, and if Hermy was with him she would mimic him, her ears loudly flapping against her head.

Rachel saw these things taking over her brother and she knew what they were. But she was missing detail and she still wasn't feeling comfortable enough with their new found friendship to just ask him. So she watched and she waited, hoping that he would sit her down and open up in good time (but preferably soon, because she was absolutely dying to know who her little brother was crushing on.)

-----

Saturday morning around six, Blaine went upstairs and made his family waffles and eggs. He hadn't slept more than an hour that night, drifting off for ten minutes every so often and then waking with a jolt. His inability to sleep was normal, but it hadn't been this bad in years. He had downed an entire pot of coffee before the others shuffled into the kitchen in their robes and slippers, scratching lazily at their bedhead and yawning. They sat together at the breakfast nook, Hiram and Leroy taking turns with each section of that morning's newspaper and Rachel practically falling back to sleep on her waffle.

"Want some coffee, Rach?" Blaine asked, noticing her drooping eyelids and the drool threatening to slip from her mouth.

"No. No, I'm fine," Rachel answered, sitting up straight and forcing her eyes wide open. Not ten seconds later, she was hunched over her plate again, slipping further down her chair and her eyes gliding closed again.

"Rach..." Blaine prompted, nudging her leg under the table with his foot. She jolted, apparently actually having fallen asleep.

"Uh, on second thought," she said, almost bashfully, brushing her bangs out of her eyes.

Blaine just smiled and got up from his empty plate to start another pot of coffee. He made enough for his dads too, just in case.

"I'm gonna go back downstairs," Blaine said, walking passed the breakfast table and brushing Rachel's shoulder lovingly. "Let me know if you need anything." Rachel nodded and smiled as Hiram and Leroy simultaneously said "okay" without looking up from their newsprint.

Blaine spent the majority of his morning working on catching up in his classes. Another Saturday morning of tying up loose ends and trying to convince himself that going to class would be worth the boredom. Yet again, it didn't work.

He finished up his work around ten and placed it all neatly back in his binder just as Rachel called from upstairs, "Blaine! Someone's here to see you!"

Assuming it was just Quinn or Puck, he told Rachel to just send them down. He wasn't expecting to see Kurt walking down his stairs dressed in regular, albeit obviously expensive, street clothes. Blaine jaw practically unhinged and for a moment he thought he heard it hit the floor with a loud cartoon thud, his eyes bugged out and his brain unable to process words. He was a clich� with limbs.

"How... Quaint." Kurt looked around the room, taking in the gray-violet bedding and the steel and black stripped wallpaper. He was actually pleasantly surprised by how well decorated Blaine's room was, but he wasn't going to let that show.

"Hummel," Blaine acknowledged, standing up from his desk chair and snapping his jaw back up with a loud crack, remembering 'You hate Kurt. He is the enemy.'

"Anderson," Kurt nodded, smiling cockily and walking up to Blaine, stopping only a foot in front of him.

"Are you here to apologize for what you did?" Blaine asked, narrowing his eyes and focusing on a point just slightly to the right of Kurt's head, hoping it wasn't obvious he wasn't looking at him. Looking at Kurt's face would be a mistake. His eyes would be a distraction and so would his faint freckles and his soft lips and... Shit. He was looking at Kurt's face. Staring, really.

"To be fair, I didn't actually do any of the slushying," Kurt said, his smile widening mischievously. Blaine's eyes fell to Kurt's lips and anchored there. He couldn't move them. Not that he was actively aware that he was literally staring straight at Kurt's mouth. At least he still had most of the control of his brain and was able to continue the conversation smoothly.

"Same difference. Your ape of a brother and your prissy Asian princess friend did enough to make you guilty by association." It was weird how he was still able to form coherent, even bitchy, sentences, but his body was responding completely differently. He couldn't look away from Kurt for even a second and his heart was thrumming uncontrollably. He felt like there was a steel drum band playing Caribbean Carnival music in his chest, the little men bouncing around wildly while their drum beats echoed loudly and painfully against his heart and ribcage.

"Well then yeah, I'm apologizing," Kurt said, stepping forward slightly. Blaine shuffled closer as well, his eyes still fixed on Kurt's lips, somewhat unaware and uncaring why his body had taken over.

"Really?" Blaine asked, finally letting his eyes flick up to gaze fully at Kurt's face. Kurt had his own eyes locked on Blaine's lips and a soul shattering, drumming pulse sped through Blaine's body, different than the steel drums. It started in the center of his chest and making its way to the tips of his fingers and toes. His body was buzzing with the sensation but he couldn't name it.

"Yeah," Kurt replied, leaning in only inches from Blaine's face. His breathing heavy and tickling Blaine's lips.

Blaine's heart jumped in his chest and he crashed back down to reality. "Well, go ahead then," he said, taking a step back and practically falling back into his desk chair. Luckily he was able to make it look like he'd meant to do it.

"And do what?" Kurt asked angrily, shaking his head slightly and stepping back.

"Fucking apologize," Blaine looked Kurt up and down, trying his best to ignore how good Kurt looked in his stupid fucking polo and tight, fashionably ripped light-wash jeans. Fucking preppy ass bitch.

"I just did!" Kurt cried seethingly, his face reddening.

"Actually, no. You just talked about apologizing." Blaine countered, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. It felt good to have control again but maybe not quite as good as when he'd let his body take over. He felt a quick longing for the steel drums in his chest but pushed it away.

"Fine! I'm fucking sorry then, Jesus Christ," Kurt said, still angry, but another one of those confusing emotions made their way into his eyes and Blaine couldn't figure it out. He could never fucking figure it out. It was killing him.

"Apologize at school then. To the kids you slushied and to my friends." Blaine knew what Kurt would say and he sort of understood it but he had to at least try.

"I can't do that," Kurt whispered, looking down. Blaine saw it again and finally understood it. It was confusing because it wasn't just one emotion. It was an expression that was filled with every single emotion Kurt was feeling, too much to analyze in glances. Now, though, Blaine had a chance to really look at Kurt and he was able to pick apart the pieces and place them in categories. Anger and hurt and confusion. Fear and regret. So much regret.

"Why not?" Blaine asked, quiet and unable to look at Kurt's face. It hurt to see Kurt so broken; to see the fragmented pieces.

"You know why, Anderson," Kurt whispered back, traces of sadness lacing his words. He shuffled back a bit more and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, not looking up from the floor once. Neither would look at the other.

"Well, then, I don't accept your apology, Kurt." There were some things -- some people -- Blaine had to protect, and if he had to hurt Kurt Hummel in the process... Well then, he would. Blaine understood regret and he understood pain and fear but that didn't mean he was going to let Kurt get away with hurting the people he loved.

"Fuck, Blaine. I'm sorry, okay? I just... I can't do that. I can't put myself in that position." Kurt sounded as if he was about to burst into tears. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest as if he were trying to protect himself from something. His biceps flexed and Blaine tried not to notice them. He tried not to notice the tight fight of the cotton polo over Kurt's broad chest or the way his torso tapered down to his hips. These were things he hardly noticed when Kurt was wearing his uniform. Sometimes it was hard to see passed the blinding red fabric.

Blaine snapped his head back and forced himself to look at anything but Kurt. Anger at himself bubbled in his throat and he felt like he was choking, either on words or emotion he wasn't sure. He was angry at himself for letting his body's reaction to Kurt overshadow what he should have been doing. He should have been saying anything and everything he could to get Kurt to apologize, at the very least, to the kids he tormented.

"Haven't you been in just about every position possible? I think your reputation can only improve at this point." The boiling anger in Blaine's throat spewed forth in the form of words and though he regretted them the moment they came out, he didn't stop himself. He was determined to get Kurt back somehow.

Kurt's face flew through a million emotions, starting with shock and ending in pure fury.

"Fuck you, Anderson. Don't you fucking dare. I'm not a slut," Kurt shouted, his arms flexing again and his face reddening, eyebrows drawn in anger, hiding the pain one of the only ways he knew how.

"Coulda fooled me," Blaine said, shrugging nonchalantly and cocking his head insolently.

"What's going on?" Rachel yelled from upstairs. Blaine heard her barreling down the staircase and a moment later she appeared, swinging herself around the corner of the wall looking frazzled.

"Hummel was just leaving," Blaine said, standing up and stretching, trying to look as if nothing of any importance had happened.

"Yeah," Kurt glared at Blaine, uncrossing his arms and looking over at Rachel.

"See ya 'round, Kurt," Blaine said, angrily snapping the end of Kurt's name and smiling curtly.

"Fuck you," Kurt mouthed, still glaring. Rachel looked at the two of them, uncomfortable and shifting from foot to foot, apparently waiting for a fight to break out or for Kurt to turn and walk up the stairs with her.

"Right back at ya," Blaine mouthed back, smiling again and stepping forward while making a shooing motion with his hands.

Kurt turned briskly and stomped up the stairs. Rachel waited for a second and stormed toward her brother.

"What the hell did you do, Blaine?" She whispered angrily.

"I didn't do anything, Rachel. It's what he didn't do."

Rachel looked confused for a second and decided she wasn't going to get into it with him at that moment. Kurt had just gone upstairs and was probably awkwardly waiting for her by the front door.

"We're talking about this later," she said and she turned to head up the stairs without waiting for Blaine's reply.

"Fine," Blaine answered, more to the empty space in front of him than to Rachel. He walked to his bed and fell down on it dramatically, smacking the side of his face on a binder that was half hidden under the rumpled comforter.

"Ow," he said indifferently to the empty room. He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. That did not go the way he wanted it to. But then again, what did he expect? That was Kurt Hummel. Why did Blaine expect him to be any different from the way he was at school?

He sat up put his head in his hands, spinning the desk chair by is bed absentmindedly with his foot. Through a space between his fingers, Blaine noticed a flash of white flutter to the floor and he stopped spinning the chair, still holding his head in his hands and wondering what that flash of white could have been. Unable to figure out what it could be, he let go of his head and bent to pick up the slip of paper. It was folded just once and it was a bit crumpled, as if someone had clenched their fist around it. He unfolded it and gawked openly at what it said.

"I know you're going to be upset with me when you read this but call me. And please avoid yelling at me. - KH"

The nerve of that asshole, to come into Blaine's own house and upset him, to confuse him and frustrate him and then leave a note telling him to call for God knew what reason.

"How the fuck am I supposed to call you, asshole? I don't have your number," Blaine said out loud to the paper, shaking his head. There was too much going on in his brain. He couldn't handle it. He couldn't make out a single thought racing through his mind so he just gently set the note on his desk and sat back down on his bed.

This was all so confusing but he didn't know what else he could do. He had to call Kurt. He didn't know exactly why or how, but he knew that his entire body and brain were screaming at him to do it. Logically he knew it was probably a bad idea, but apparently logic wasn't so important to him when it came to Kurt Hummel.