Kurt leads the way up the stairs to the second floor and shoves his key in the lock. He opens the door, gesturing Blaine and his lonely backpack inside and then flips a light switch.

"It's small," Kurt says almost apologetically. "But the couch is comfortable, I swear."

"It's very you," Blaine replies, glancing around the room. "Even if it's small."

Kurt shrugs and tosses his keys on the tiny kitchen table. "The bathroom is the only door on your right, if you want to take a shower or something. I'm gonna change."

With that, Kurt disappears into his bedroom and shuts his door. He hears the bathroom door shut as well and assumes correctly that Blaine is taking a shower when he hears the grumble of the old piping as Blaine turns on the water. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes and nudging them close to his nightstand. He's not nearly as organized or compulsive as he used to be, but he still likes a bit of order to things.

He moves over to his dressed anr roots around until he finds a suitable pair of sweatpants to throw on and a plain, black t-shirt and he changes, already at ease for the night. When he opens his bedroom door, fully intending to head out to his tiny balcony for a smoke, he hears Blaine singing in the shower.

He stops.

His heart lurches.

Blaine had always sung in the shower.

Having him around, doing these little things, using the same hand motions and speaking in that perfectly articulated way he always did makes Kurt's memory drift back to a simpler time. The memories are hitting him full speed in the chest and he keeps thinking about that time he had whipped cream on his nose and Blaine licked it off. He remembers exactly, exactly how Blaine's body felt next to his under a cool set of sheets. He thinks about singing in the car and the insanely large number of coffee dates and the secret, coy smiles in the hallways at Dalton Academy.

Kurt realizes he's been standing there listening to Blaine sing like some kind of creepy almost-voyeur (does it count if you're only listening?) for a long while and promptly turns on his socked heel, snatches up a pack of cigarettes, and opens the sliding glass door to step onto the balcony.

He sighs when he finally lights up and smoke fills his lungs, exhaling heavily into the cool air of late evening. A few drags and various frustrating thoughts later, Blaine joins him.

"You know those are really bad for you, right?"

"After five years, you don't get to walk back into my life and act like my mother," Kurt retorts.

"I'm not trying to be your mother," Blaine states firmly. "Just pointing out the obvious."

"Well I don't need your opinion on the things I do anymore. You haven't been my boyfriend for a long time, Blaine."

"I do realize that, actually," Blaine returns. "Though I'd really like to know why you're even allowing me to stay here when all you want to do is pick a fight with me."

"Oh, you don't think I deserve a good bitch rant?"

Blaine runs a hand through his wet curls and Kurt can't help but wonder if they still smell the same, if he still uses the same shampoo or if he used the kind that Kurt kept in his shower. Kurt curses himself for thinking about something so inane.

"Fine. Let's have it out," Blaine says, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat before letting them rest on his hips, a sure sign that he's not happy with the situation.

"As if I owe you some sort of explanation," Kurt snorts, putting his cigarette out in the metal bucket he keeps outside solely for that purpose before walking back in.

Blaine follows, of course. "I don't know what you want me to say!" He slides the door closed behind him.

"Maybe you'd like to start off with why the hell you never contacted me again?" Kurt whips around to face his ex-boyfriend. "Or do I not deserve that either?"

Blaine opens his mouth but no sound comes out and Kurt smiles as if he's won the first round.

"Fascinating," Kurt says in a mock whisper.

"You can't stand there and act like you know everything, Kurt."

"Well if you'd fucking explain it, maybe I'd be a little bit more informed."

"You swear a lot more too," Blaine points out. "I haven't decided if it's an attractive trait yet."

"Stop changing the damn subject!"

"I wanted to!" Blaine finally shouts. "I wanted to call you or email you or whatever but every time I went to dial your number or every time I sat in front of a computer to write you a message, I had no idea what to say!"

"You could have said anything! I'd have been perfectly happy with a message that said 'how's the weather in Ohio' but you didn't even give me that!"

"Since when was it my responsibility to keep in contact?" Blaine has to ask. "You could just as easily have emailed me! Sure, you didn't have a number to call me and you didn't have an address to send letters but my freaking email address never changed!"

"Because YOU were the one that left!"

"It wasn't my choice and you know that! My parents weren't going to let me stay behind!"

"You could have boarded," Kurt argues. "You know you could have stayed at Dalton."

"You think I didn't let that fact slip when I was begging them to stay?"

"You could have done more," Kurt says with finality.

"You're so…UGH! You can be so damn stubborn sometimes, I swear!"

"Well at least that hasn't changed then," Kurt snaps.

"Why are you being such a brat?"

"Because you annoy me."

"Oh, I annoy you, huh?" Blaine asks with a breathless, sarcastic laugh. "Well let me just say, the feeling is very mutual. Why am I even here?"

"You're the one who showed up in Los Angeles."

"You know what I mean! Why am I here, standing in your living room, arguing about a break up that happened over five freaking years ago? Why did you even offer to let me stay here?"

Kurt's jaw clenches because, for some fucked up reason, that is the one question he can't seem to answer.

Blaine smiles viciously. He just won round two.

"You can either throw me out and I'll find a hotel or you can give me a pillow and let me sleep on your couch. I can be out of your life again tomorrow if that's what you want," Blaine says.

Kurt huffs. He's refusing to admit that he doesn't want Blaine to go. He's refusing to admit that he wants Blaine in his life, though in what capacity he doesn't quite know yet. He doesn't know how long Blaine plans on staying in Los Angeles because he hadn't thought to ask.

But as he goes into his closet in his room and pulls out a spare blanket and snatches one of his pillows off his bed for Blaine, he knows that he doesn't want to know how long Blaine's staying because he isn't sure if he could handle the fact that it was only a few days.

He doesn't understand anything he's feeling right now.

The next morning, Kurt crawls out of bed with a stress induced headache, thankful that he has nothing to do until the evening. The sunlight is way too damn bright for ten in the morning and he mutters to himself as he stumbles sleepily into the bathroom to take a piss and have a shower.

When he walks into the living room, he freezes.

Oh, right. Yeah, Blaine popped back into his life last night and he's sleeping on his sofa.

Damnit, why does he have to look so adorable when he sleeps? Why do his curls have to be so unruly and dark? Why do his eyelashes look so soft when pressed closed against his cheeks? Why does his jaw have to be covered in the perfect amount of scruff? Oh god, and why does that bit of chest hair look so tempting when peeking through the v-neck of his white shirt? Why do his lips look so full and slightly parted and why does Kurt have the urge to kiss him breathless and swallow his moans and –

Fuck.

He's going to go INSANE.

Blaine Anderson just got better with age and Kurt hated him for it.

So because he's still a little pissed from last night and because he's angry at himself for still being attracted to the sleeping boy on his couch, Kurt is sure to make a shit ton of noise when he's opening cabinets and scrounging around for a bowl and a spoon to have some cereal in his tiny kitchen.

Blaine stirs immediately and Kurt despises how cute he looks as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and stretches his small, toned body along the length of his sofa. Kurt swallows hard when he has trouble dragging his eyes away from the bit of Blaine's stomach that is revealed when his shirt rides up.

Kurt wants to slap himself and he turns to grab the box of Cheerios off the top of the fridge.

"So…" Blaine begins as he finishes folding the blanket he'd used, "do you want me to leave?"

Kurt sighs and sets a gallon of milk aside. He lifts his eyes to stare at Blaine, who's shuffling back and forth on a nervous pair of bare feet.

"Do you want to leave?" Kurt asks, trying to keep the agitation out of his voice.

Blaine glances up at him and their eyes lock for a seemingly infinite moment before Blaine gives the slightest shake of his head.

"No."

Kurt nods once, caps the milk, and sticks his spoon in the bowl of cereal.

"Then stay."