“Come on. I’ll buy you lunch.”

Kurt trails after Blaine, eyeing his back, doing his best not to smile. There’s not much to smile about really, especially not after their confrontation with Karofsky just now. His first kiss was just stolen, the male members of New Directions have absolutely no appreciation for his contributions to their assignment, and Dave Karofsky almost punched his only other gay friend in the freaking face.

But Blaine looks ridiculously good in those grey trousers and that blazer and he just offered to buy Kurt lunch so, honestly, who is he to say no? So he follows him down the steps.

“Where do you want to go?”

“For what?” Kurt tears his eyes away from the bit of skin exposed on Blaine’s neck, just below his hairline.

“For lunch,” Blaine clarifies, turning back briefly to shoot Kurt a smile.

“We’re not allowed off campus lunch. I thought we were-”

“Well I’m betting I’m not allowed to be here, but we seem to be breaking that rule as well. Come on,” he takes hold of Kurt’s arm and drags him away from the high school campus, “I’ll drive.”

“I really don’t-”

“Live a little, Kurt.”

And then Blaine turns around and winks, winks at him and suddenly Kurt can protest no more.

What’s the possibility of detention compared to an hour alone with Blaine?

That’s how they end up driving to this tiny, rarely visited café near Breadstix, an establishment Kurt assures has the best raspberry vinaigrette salad dressing in town. Once they’re seated inside, tucked away in a corner, Blaine smiles brightly and nudges Kurt’s knee under the table.

“So tell me more about you, Kurt Hummel,” he urges.

“Oh, um,” Kurt becomes flustered just as the waitress comes to take their orders. When she’s gone, he turns back to the boy across the little table. “Like what?”

“Well, as of right now, I know your name is Kurt Hummel, I know you go to McKinley, I know you’re in Glee club, and I know you’ve been dealing with some seriously heinous bullying. And I assume we’re about the same age.”

Kurt nods. “Sixteen, going on seventeen.”

“Do we get to break out into song, now?”

“Only if you can dance with me majestically under a gazebo at night when it’s raining. And I get to be Leisel.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Blaine grins, squeezing his lemon into his water.

Kurt can’t help but grin in return and wonder if this is what flirting, real flirting, feels like.

“What else do you want to know?” he asks.

“Anything. Everything.”

Kurt swallows hard as his heart begins to race. “I like Broadway musicals,” he squeaks out because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Me too.”

“And fashion.”

“I’d probably like fashion better if I didn’t have to wear a uniform,” Blaine states.

“A con to private school.”

“What else?”

Kurt shrugs because he isn’t used to this at all, he isn’t used to someone else, a boy, a cute boy wanting to know things about him. Blaine seems to notice him floundering and interjects.

“I’m guessing you live with your parents? Unless you’re ah, emancipated for some reason?”

“Yes. To the first, I mean. I’m not emancipated. Well, I sort of live with my parents.”

“How do you sort of live with your parents?” Blaine wonders with a delicate lift of a dark eyebrow.

“I live with my dad. And his um, girlfriend, I suppose is the word. With Carole. And her son, Finn.”

“Ah, so your parents are divorced,” Blaine deduces.

Incorrectly.

“No, actually,” Kurt says softly. He can’t help it, he still gets sad at the mention of his mother. Or his lack of mother. “My mother died.”

Blaine’s eyes widen in what looks to be shock. “Oh, god. Kurt, I’m – I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Kurt says immediately. “It was a long time ago, I was only eight.”

Blaine seems to panic even more so Kurt reaches over to cover Blaine’s hand, the one that’s gripping his glass of water a little too tight, and says, “It’s okay. Really. I’m serious.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says again. “Do you, I mean do you remember her at all?”

“Some things. I remember how she loved to cook and how she always let me do her makeup and how she let me use her clothes to play dress up. Some days I forget what she looks like, but if I look at a picture of her then I refresh my memory.”

“Do you have a picture of her?” Blaine asks gently.

“I do, actually,” Kurt says. “Do you – did you want to see?”

“Sure,” Blaine nods.

Kurt finally uncovers Blaine’s hand, realizing that was quite a bit of personal contact, and reaches into his bag to pull out his wallet. From between the folds, he plucks out a small photo of a woman with long, chestnut brown hair and bright blue eyes. He hands the picture to Blaine, who wipes his hand on his napkin before accepting the tiny, aged object. He stares at the picture for a long moment and his eyes soften when he looks back up to Kurt.

“She was beautiful,” he says quietly, a sad smile upon his lips as he gives the photo back.

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, taking one last look at the picture before replacing it in his wallet and back into his bag. “She was.”

“You have her eyes.”

Kurt smiles shyly and ducks his head. “That’s what my father always says.”

The boys fall silent as the waitress reappears with their lunch, setting their plates in front of them and then flouncing away again. They realize the conversation has become a little too heavy for their first real outing as friends.

“So,” Blaine eventually says. “Your father’s girlfriend has a son? How’s that working out?”

“It’s…working,” Kurt replies slowly. “We’re sharing a room right now, something he’s none too happy about. But he finally admitted the other day that sharing a room with me is better than the closet he was essentially living in at his old house.”

“How do you like it?” Blaine asks, sipping at his soup.

“It’s um, alright.”

“I’m guessing you’re an only child?”

“You’d guess right.”

“It must be weird having to share your space, then.”

Kurt shrugs a bit as he takes a bite of his salad. Blaine eyes him suspiciously.

“Is there history there?”

Oh, fantastic. Kurt begins choking on a large lettuce leaf and has to take a large drink of water to clear his throat.

“There’s a story behind this, isn’t there?” Blaine asks, peering at Kurt through his lashes with an almost malicious grin plastered to his lips.

“Some would say so,” Kurt replies when he’s finally able.

“Oh do tell, I love gossip.”

Sighing, Kurt leans back in his chair and avoids Blaine’s eyes. “I used to…sort of…have a crush on him. A big one. That’s…the reason his mom and my dad met. I set them up so I could be closer to Finn.”

“Is Finn gay?”

“Uh…not particularly.”

“Must’ve been some crush,” Blaine says nonchalantly, taking a drink of water.

“Oh go ahead and laugh. Yes, I was stupid and desperate and looking for love in all the wrong places. It backfired anyway. Our parents liked each other too much. I realized I had no chance. And now I’m stuck with him.”

“Hey, you got what you wanted. You’re closer to him.”

“I didn’t expect closer to mean him leaving his smelly, disgusting socks all over my side of the room and snores so loud that I have to wear ear plugs every night when I go to sleep.”

“They do say living together can be detrimental to the relationship early on.”

“You’re such a brat!”

“Maybe,” Blaine shrugs, taking out his phone to check the time and placing it on the edge of the table near the wall.

“And here I thought you were a young, respectable gentleman.”

“The uniform can be deceiving.”

“Obviously.”

They’re flirting again. Kurt finally gives up the fight and begins to laugh outright at the entire conversation and Blaine just keeps on smiling.

“You have a lovely laugh,” he says, completely out of the blue.

He might as well have just said ‘let’s get married’ and that’s when Kurt notices he’s kind of smitten and so, so in trouble. He can’t just…fall for Blaine like this. They haven’t even known each other for a week. They know next to nothing about each other. This is the first out and proud gay guy he’s ever met, he can’t fall for him! No. No, they’re just friends.

Friends that flirt.

But people flirt all the time.

Yes, exactly.

So Kurt simply smiles back and suddenly they’re talking about Broadway musicals and Blaine’s friends from Dalton. The hour passes too quickly for Kurt’s liking. They finally pay, and even though Blaine’s the one that offered to buy Kurt lunch, Kurt still puts up a fight over the check but relents when Blaine allows him to leave the tip behind.

It isn’t until they’re back in Blaine’s car, keys in the ignition, that Blaine realizes he left his phone on the table.

“Damnit, sorry,” he mumbles, climbing out of the car. “I’ll be right back.”

Kurt sits inside the car, eyes wandering as they often do when one is waiting. He notes the apple scented car freshener hanging from the rear view mirror and the empty coffee cup in the cup holder. As he goes to buckle his seatbelt, his knuckles bump into a large, open envelope tucked between the seat and the console. He takes a quick look up to make sure Blaine isn’t rushing out and curiosity, for some bizarre reason, gets the best of him. He slides the envelope out of its hiding place and peers inside.

School pictures.

He lifts one out, a five by seven, and gazes upon the beautiful boy in the picture. Blaine photographs well, Kurt realizes. His skin and hair look absolutely perfect, framed against a blue background and it almost looks like there’s a smolder in his eyes –

The driver’s side door opens.

“Caught you snooping,” Blaine grins broadly, slipping into his seat.

Kurt jumps and almost drops the picture in his hand. “I guess you did,” he laughs nervously.

“I’ve been looking for those for the past few days. They’re from last year but my mother wanted to give one to an aunt. I had to dig them out of a bag in the trunk. Guess I forgot I put them there.”

“Oh,” Kurt slips the picture back inside the envelope. “Here-”

“Keep one.”

“What?”

Blaine rolls his eyes almost fondly, snatches the envelope out of Kurt’s hands and fishes out the photo he had been holding onto.

“Keep it. I have too many and they’re old anyway.”

“I don’t-”

“Keep it. Friends keep pictures of friends, don’t they?”

Kurt swallows hard and nods, accepting the proffered photograph. “Thank you.”

“Maybe it will help refresh your memory,” Blaine states with a wink and then he’s reversing out of the parking space and pulling out of the lot.

Heart fluttering, Kurt slides the picture into his bag with reverence, tucking it between pages of a notebook to make sure it doesn’t get ruined. He doesn’t really need the picture, Kurt thinks.

He doubts he’ll forget what Blaine looks like anytime soon.

Later that night, Kurt would frame the picture and cut out seven precious letters from a magazine.

The next day, the photo and courage would hang in his locker.