You should know that I’m retelling this story for a reason. I probably should have pointed this out in the beginning, but even now I’m not sure if anyone’s listening. Even if they aren’t listening, I suppose it doesn’t make a difference because I need to tell it. I need to tell it to figure out where I went wrong, to figure out when it all started. I’m starting to think it was all wrong from the beginning but things are still a little muddled.

So maybe, just maybe, if I can recount almost everything, or at least the main points, I can find the point that sparked the end for me.

After two months with Kurt, it began to get very cold outside and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I was completely in love with him. I mean, I was totally in love. I was in so, so deep. It was my first relationship with the first man to ever show me a smidgen of affection and I knew it was extremely unhealthy to become so attached to someone but I just couldn’t help it.

Kurt was perfect. He was beautiful, he was charming, he was attentive, he was loving, he was affectionate, he was funny, he was witty, he was intelligent, and he seemed to care so much for me.

Well, I think he did care for me.

In his own way.

At the time, it was hard to believe he was real. Some days I thought he was just a figment of my imagination. I’d be at home alone, which had always been my life, and I’d think of him and wonder if he was a dream. But then he’d show up unannounced on my doorstep with an ice cream sundae and a kiss just for me and I’d remember.

He was real. He was mortal, which was honestly something I doubted until he caught a really bad cold and I saw him get a paper cut. At first I thought he wasn’t faithful to me or really invested in me at all because that possibility seemed rather plausible. We spent so much time together, though, and I knew Kurt was organized from my first visit to his apartment but to be able to manage his time that well just didn’t seem feasible. We were together nearly every evening except for the nights I had to work or when I admitted to needing some time to myself. He was very understanding on that front. He knew about my anxiety and my introverted personality and he was always very supportive.

I can’t remember being happier.

I also can’t remember being more blind.

By the time Christmas came, I knew I was in for the long haul and that this wasn’t just some sort of experiment for him. I often wondered in the beginning if he was just interested in me because I needed to be…fixed or something and he had a fixing-people-problem. However, he always told me that I didn’t need to be fixed; I didn’t need to change or stop being my reclusive self because he liked me just the way I was, anxiety and all.

I felt like I finally found someone who understood me.

Christmas that year was the first Christmas I wasn’t alone since my last year of high school. Usually I spent Christmas alone in my dorm room. I had no one to buy presents for and I had no one to give me presents. Sometimes I’d get cards in the mail from the guys who I’d been in glee club with, but I get the feeling that was just because they were from really rich families and it was polite to send a card to damn near everyone they knew.

My first Christmas with Kurt, though, that Christmas was fantastic. We spent Christmas Eve cuddled up on a really soft rug under a blanket in front of Kurt’s fireplace. We kissed for hours, finishing off an expensive bottle of wine between the two of us when we came up for air.

The most intimate we had ever been up until that point had been kissing and cuddling, plain and simple. Kurt knew how inexperienced I was and he never ever forced me to go beyond what I was comfortable doing. But that Christmas Eve, oh god that night was absolutely perfect. Despite the snow outside, it was boiling under the blanket in front of the fire so Kurt removed his shirt.

I had never seen anything more perfect than his naked chest. He was all smooth, masculine lines and taut, slightly sculpted muscles beneath miles of pale skin. I stared at him, his body glistening in the light of the fire. I thought I might faint from the sight alone.

“I’m hardly Adonis, Blaine,” Kurt said with an amused grin.

“Can I – can I touch?” I asked naively, fingers itching at my sides to do just that.

“You can do whatever you like,” he replied, laying back down on the rug and folding his hands behind his head.

I got the impression that he was actually very flattered by my attraction beneath his amusement. He remained still while I reached my hand out tentatively, attempting to control my shaking limbs. When my fingertips finally made contact with his skin, he emitted a sigh of contentment and closed his eyes. He allowed me to explore slowly, fingers brushing over his stomach, his sides, his chest, his nipples, and his collarbone. I became obsessed with that little spot where shoulder turned to neck and spent most of the time tracing the tendons and feeling another man’s body for the first time in my life.

When he finally opened his eyes a while later, he stared at me with lust-blown pupils and a hooded gaze. His eyes scared me for a second, mostly because I’d never had anyone look at me that way before, but then I guess instinct took control and I leaned down and kissed him. I kissed him that night with passion, with heat, my inhibitions suddenly lost in the quiet night of Christmas Eve and the cackling fire. I was incredibly turned on, more aroused than I’d ever been in my life. He pulled me close to his body and when my inevitable erection collided with his sharp hip bone, my breath hitched and I broke the kiss.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Kurt said. “I know you’re not ready, I’m so-”

“No, no, it’s not that,” I said, panting into the crook of his neck while I attempted to catch my breath and calm myself. “It’s – it’s just so much.”

“I know,” Kurt said understandingly, carding his fingers through my hair. “It can be terrifying at first.”

At his words, I pulled away so I could stare down at his face. The red haze from the fire warmed his cheeks and he looked so lovely, so perfectly lovely. As scared as I was, I knew that I was almost twenty-three and I was in love with Kurt. I knew that, if things were to ever end with Kurt and I didn’t let myself experience this now, I might never get another chance. That wasn’t the only reason, not at all. I was hard as a rock and I needed release. I knew next to nothing about sex besides what I’d seen in movies and what I’d experienced with my right hand. If there was anyone on this planet who could teach me without making me feel embarrassed, I knew it would be Kurt.

So, trembling all the while, I moved to straddle him, leaned down, kissed the tip of his nose, and pressed my erection down against his.

His hands flew to my hips, he tossed his head back, and his lips parted. I’d never seen something so erotic. He moaned when I repeated the action and slid his hands back to grip my ass through my jeans. As I pressed down, he thrust up and I became dizzy, lost in the scent of winter and Kurt and my own libido. I never wanted to stop moving. I wanted to sink into him. He stared up at me like I was some sort of angel and when I smiled, he abruptly flipped me over. We tangled up in the blanket for a few seconds, but Kurt shoved them away because we didn’t need the warmth anymore. Our bodied were on fire.

He reached between my legs and stroked me through my jeans. His hand was on me, I thought absurdly because well, yeah, that’s what was going on. My legs spread of their own accord, granting him better access and I think he groaned at the sight of me being so desperate for his touch. I couldn’t help thrusting up into his hand because it felt so damn good. He paused. When I looked down, I saw that he was fumbling with my zipper. For some reason, I wanted to bat his hand away, tell him to stop, but then I remembered that this was what people do: they touch each other. I had to get past that weird, virgin thing I had going on and even though I wasn’t sure I was completely ready for this, once his hand was wrapped around my dick, my brain shut up. I began writhing, moaning into the otherwise silent living room of Kurt’s apartment. He stroked me expertly, like hands were made for things like this. I’m pretty sure that, in my mind, I thanked Santa for Kurt Hummel’s hands.

A few seconds later, I thanked every being, holy and imaginary, for Kurt Hummel’s mouth. After two or three flicks of his tongue against the head of my dick, I came straight down his throat, very nearly screaming his name. I shuddered there on the floor as he swallowed around me. My tongue was cold in my mouth from all the air I had been sucking in. Once I was spent, his hands wandered up my body and framed my face as he kissed me, slow and languid, and I melted into the floor.

Once he pulled away, I realized just how flush my cheeks were and I also remembered that he was probably still just as hard as I was a few minutes ago. That was just not fair. Kurt had just swallowed my come and there was no way I was going to leave him in such distress. Ignoring my lack of experience, I pushed him on his back.

“You don’t have to,” Kurt protested, halfheartedly swiping at my eager hands.

“I want to,” I told him. It was true, I wanted to make him feel just as good as he made me feel.

Trouble was, by the time I got my hand down his pants and around his dick, things became complicated. I knew my way around my own dick, but for some reason this was different. The angle was awkward and his pants were far tighter than mine. Just as I was about to get really frustrated, Kurt calmly wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pulled my hand away.

“But I want-”

“Shh,” he said with a smile.

I watched impatiently as he tugged his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh, allowing me unimpeded access to my prize. I smiled at him, silently thanking him for recognizing my plight and not mentioning my bumbling, virgin ways, and returned my hand to his dick. Gripping him with ease, I tugged and he hissed with repressed pleasure. I became joyful at my victory which was silly because he hadn’t even had an orgasm yet. He began thrusting into the circle of my hands and I wanted to cry when his moans filled my ears because I was doing this to him. Reclusive, shy, inexperienced Blaine Anderson was touching someone else in one of the most intimate ways and making them feel good. I can’t ever recall being so proud of myself. I didn’t feel this proud when I graduated college and moved to New York all on my own.

“T-tighter,” he instructed breathlessly and I obeyed, eager to learn and experience everything.

Tightening my grip, I stroked him quickly, roughly, and when he began whispering my name I think I almost cried.

When he finally came all over my hand and his stomach, I wanted to die from happiness. I stroked him through the end, just the way I liked it when I did it to myself, and by the time he was reduced to a sweaty puddle of flushed, sated man, my self-esteem had shot through the roof. I pulled my hand away. For some reason, I was curious at the sight of his come on my fingers. He swallowed my own but I knew exactly how I tasted. Of course I had tasted myself before; I was a twenty-two year old virgin and I had wondered. But this was Kurt and I wanted to know. I brought my hand to my lips and flicked my tongue over the cooling liquid on my fingers and knuckles. It wasn’t too different from my own, to be honest. The mystery lay in the idea that it had come from Kurt and I made it happen.

“If you wanted a taste, my stomach could definitely use cleaning,” Kurt teased.

Snapping out of my own thoughts, I remembered the mess. He was just lying there, gorgeous as ever, looking up at me with his pretty blue eyes and I supposed it was the least I could do. He hadn’t left a mess on me and I figured it was polite to repay the sentiment. I crawled over him and began licking the drying come from his stomach while he slid his hands into my hair. As it cooled, it became less and less appealing on my tongue but I licked him clean. What I couldn’t remove with my tongue I cleaned with a damp rag that I retrieved from the bathroom.

When I finally snuggled up next to him underneath the blanket again, my body relaxed against his and I felt happier than I’d ever been.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Well, okay. Maybe that made me feel even happier.

I lifted my head from his shoulder and gazed at him, probably looking ridiculously shocked and asked, “You – you do?”

“Of course not,” he said, very nearly laughing. “I just like to hear myself talk.”

“Oh,” I said resignedly.

At that, he did laugh. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say so I just waited for him to calm down.

“Yes, Blaine,” he said once he stopped laughing. “I do love you. Very much so.”

“Really?” I asked maybe too hopefully.

“Yes,” he said gently, thumb stroking my cheek.

I smiled broadly and kissed him before saying, “I love you, too. I didn’t – I didn’t know if I was even allowed to say it. I didn’t think you’d – so I never-”

“I know,” he said simply.

“You did?” I wondered quizzically.

“It’s kind of obvious nearly every time you look at me,” he told me. “I just wanted to wait and say it tonight.”

For a moment, I was worried that he meant he wanted to wait and say it until he finally got in my pants, but that’s silly because he couldn’t have known that would happen. It had been completely spontaneous. None of it would have happened if I hadn’t insisted I was ready to move on. I concluded that he meant he wanted to wait because it was Christmas Eve. But Kurt surprised me yet again.

“It’s been four months to the day since our very first date,” he supplied, clarifying his point.

Tears welled in my eyes and I tucked my head under his chin. He whispered soothing words into my ear, rubbing a hand on my back while attempting to calm me. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have someone like Kurt, someone who actually cared about what I thought and who I was. After leading such a lonely life, it was completely overwhelming and I just didn’t know what to do with myself.

“I’m here,” he said softly as I cried. “I’ll always be here for you.”

I held onto him, my tears dripping onto his naked chest and I silently vowed to do whatever I could to keep in him by my side as long as possible. I’d do anything to keep things perfect.

Maybe that’s where I went wrong.

Our relationship progressed fantastically after that night.

Or, at least, I thought it was progressing fantastically.

Slowly but surely, my bare apartment walls became adorned with shelves and framed art that Kurt had generously picked up for me. I constantly told him that he didn’t have to decorate my little shoebox because seriously, it wasn’t worth it. But he ignored me, smiled, rolled his eyes, and kept showing up with new little knickknacks to add to the collection.

“I have everything I could ever want,” he would say. “Let me help you.”

At first I didn’t really see it as help. For a while, it felt like pity and I felt like I was some sort of pet project. By the time he bought me a proper entertainment center for my TV and DVD player, though, I realized what he was doing: he was making my house a home and giving it a personality. Colors and lines began to make sense and I could see life emerging. It turned into a metaphor for our relationship, I think. Before Kurt, my life had been dull and monotonous, all black and white and completely boring like my coffee order. But I was finally beginning to see the light in the world and with every shelf, with every mirror, with every little piece of pointless decoration he dragged into my apartment, my life became a little bit brighter.

It felt like I was finally finding a personality. It was a simple transformation of space but Kurt wasn’t trying to change how I lived, he was just changing the way I saw the world.

I thought it was genius.

Oh hold on, I have to pause for a minute. It looks like they’re having my funeral. Wow. That’s really strange to watch. I didn’t know I could look at the present, I thought I could only watch the past. The past sort of plays like a video for me; I can pause, rewind, and skip ahead. There’s not really a screen, though. It’s just kind of…in my head, projected into empty space.

It’s raining while they bury me. Figures. My life was always under one giant raincloud. I suppose it’s fitting that the last time I’m above ground is during a rainstorm.

My parents are there. They…they’re not even burying me where the rest of my family is buried. It looks like some little cemetery on the edges of nowhere in the middle of nothing familiar.

That’s kind of heartbreaking. Except I don’t have a heart anymore. I don’t feel much here. I guess I’m apathetic now or maybe I can just see everything without it stirring any kind of emotions.

Wes and David are there. Weird. I never would have expected a couple of guys from high school to show up when I suddenly died. It’s not like I had some incurable disease that brought on any pity. Oh, I guess I could tell you how I died.

Blunt force trauma to the head, I believe is the phrasing the doctors would use.

Kurt…Kurt’s there.

He’s the only one crying.

His suit is black and sleek and he looks like some angel of death underneath his umbrella. He doesn’t stand with everyone else. He stands away, removed from the rest of the group like he’s not really part of the service at all. There’s a priest or a minister or someone and he’s reading something from a Bible, I think. That’s stupid. I was never religious. Why is there a priest? Is that just like, a given at a funeral? I wouldn’t know, the only funeral I ever attended was my grandfather’s and he was Catholic so of course there had been a priest.

They lower the casket holding my body into the ground.

I wonder what I’m wearing. I hope it’s something nice. I think I deserve at least that.

Everyone disperses, including the priest and once everyone is gone, Kurt finally steps forward. Just as a couple of guys are walking up to dump a bunch of dirt into the hole, he places a single red rose at the base of the headstone.

I wish I could feel.

He leaves and I can finally see the epitaph on the headstone below my name and my birth and death dates.

A young soul, lost but never forgotten.

Well, I guess it could be worse.

Sorry, I guess that was a bit morbid.

Back to my story.

You see, decorations and furniture weren’t the only things Kurt liked to buy for me. He liked to buy me clothes. A lot of clothes. I can’t even count the number of times we went shopping that first year we were together. The first time was certainly an endeavor, though. I can sure as hell say that.

“Kurt, I have clothes,” I said, sighing in frustration.

“T-shirts and jeans do not a wardrobe make, my love,” he said sweetly as he hailed a cab.

“I have some sweaters,” I said indignantly. “I’m wearing one right now.”

“And you’re not even wearing a heavy jacket,” Kurt pointed out. “Blaine, this is New York. You need a good coat.”

“I own a coat.”

“Where is it, then?” he asked, tugging me into the back seat of the cab, instructing the driver to take us to the nearest Macy’s which I supposed, for Kurt, was cheap.

“It’s – it’s a bit small, but I don’t need-”

“You need a coat,” Kurt said with finality. “And being a waiter and a street performer doesn’t exactly allow for certain luxuries. I want to do this for you.”

He said that a lot, I noticed. Let me do this for you. I want to do this for you. I want you to have this. It was sweet, I guess, on one level. On another level, however, I felt like a bit of a leech.

“Don’t give me that face,” he said.

“What face?”

“That petulant, I’m going to sit here and stew in a corner like a rotten child face.”

“I just don’t understand why you always have to buy me things.”

“And I don’t understand why you won’t just let me buy you nice things without putting up such a fight.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m with you just for your money,” I said. “That’s never what I liked about you.”

“Oh, so my money isn’t appealing at all?” he asked, looking at me with that sly smile he always put on when he knew he was going to win.

“It’s just-” I paused and shot a quick glance at the driver before lowering my voice, “it’s just not the reason I fell in love with you. I don’t want you to think that.”

“Darling,” he said dramatically, “I do recall how horrified you were when I first brought you to an expensive restaurant and paid for the entire meal. Trust me. I know that’s not why you love me.” He scooted a little closer next to me, pressing our thighs together, and put his arm around my shoulders. “You have to remember that before this job, I never had money to spend on anyone and I never had anyone to spend money on. Doing stuff like this for you makes me happy. I like buying you things that you want, things you don’t really need because I want you to be able to have them. Plain and simple.”

I sighed, resigned to the multiple shopping trips in my near future, and leaned into his embrace. It’s not like I was complaining about all of the new additional material accessories in my life, I just wasn’t at all accustomed to someone buying me stuff. I had never been the type of person to look for happiness in…stuff. Stuff didn’t really matter. I never had a lot of it. I’d rather be playing my guitar on a street corner than sitting at home surrounded by a bunch of stuff that didn’t matter. Stuff was fine. The decorations really made my apartment look nice and the new comforter on my bed was so much warmer than the blanket I had been using before. It was just – it was weird to be able to still play my guitar and make almost no money at all and still be able to have all of those little luxuries.

It was just something I had to get used to, something to which I had to adjust.

Besides, Kurt said it made him happy.

And that was what made me happy.

“Okay,” I said softly, rubbing my cheek on the soft material of his jacket lapel. Maybe it would be nice to have a soft coat like Kurt’s.

“Thank you,” Kurt whispered, planting a kiss in my hair. “And hey, changing rooms are always great places for impromptu make out sessions and, you know, other things.”

I think I blushed to my roots at the frankness of his speech and by the time the cab pulled up to the sidewalk in front of Macy’s, I was more turned on by the idea than I should have been.

Doing my best to avoiding checking price tags, I pointed out random things in the store I thought looked nice. Kurt did the same, but he was never hesitant in grabbing something off the rack and tossing it over his arm as he led me through the store. It was absolutely massive. I had never been inside a store so big.

“You would look stunning in red,” he would say. Or he’d mention, “You can never have too many nice shirts with buttons.”

The items he chose weren’t directly in line with my normal style, but I figured it might be nice to at least try them on considering Kurt was the one paying for everything. Only about a fourth of our selections could actually follow us into the little dressing room at a time and once we were finally inside, my feet felt like they were going to fall off.

“I don’t understand how people can do this for fun,” I grumbled, tugging my sweater and undershirt over my head.

“The thought of spending money or finding sales dulls the pain,” Kurt quipped, folding my clothes and placing them on a bench.

We went through every single item of clothing. I tried on various pairs of jeans, khakis, trousers, multiple sweaters and button up shirts, four different winter coats, and seven different lighter jackets. I was in and out of clothes for almost an hour. My stomach began to rumble, empty because I hadn’t had time to eat breakfast.

“Oh god,” Kurt said underneath his breath, eyes trailing over my body.

“What?” I asked.

“You – you should take that off before I take it off for you,” he said with a heated gaze.

Confused, I looked down at whatever outfit I had on. It wasn’t one of my choosing because the jeans were far too tight to be considered comfortable. They were made of dark denim, accessorized by a stylish belt and I had on a long sleeved, off-white-to-the-point-of-peach colored shirt. It was mostly buttoned and I was just finishing rolling up the sleeves when he had commented. I turned to look in the mirror, examining my appearance. I looked…really nice. Like, far nicer than I remember looking, even nicer than I did that first night Kurt took me out to that expensive restaurant. It wasn’t something I would normally wear but it was stylish without trying too hard and yeah, I’d have to get used to the suffocating jeans, but if it made Kurt look at me like that…

“Why would I take it off when you have perfectly capable hands,” I said, looking at him through the mirror.

His hands were on me in a flash and I had to bite back a whimper when he grabbed me through the jeans. We had discovered I was quite vocal in bed so I had to do my very best to keep quiet while he tugged the belt off. As soon as it dropped to the floor, the jeans that didn’t yet belong to me were around my ankles along with my underwear and he turned me around, pressing me against the cold surface of the mirror. He promptly dropped to his knees. My hands settled on his shoulders. I never touched his hair. He never liked having his hair messed up and I was very careful to work around his dislikes for fear of doing something wrong.

He swallowed my dick whole, the head immediately bumping the back of his throat and I gasped. He worked his hands around to cup my ass, squeezing and groping as he sucked me. I had never even considered sex in public so the whole experience had me near the edge in no time at all. There were people around us, anyone could knock. We’d been in there for ages so it was a definitely possibility. That possibility didn’t hinder Kurt’s enthusiasm for cock sucking, though, and it was probably one of the best blowjobs I’ve ever had.

“C-close,” I whispered, fingers digging into his shoulders with renewed force.

His lips worked faster, tongue pressing up against the underside of my dick and he flicked the head with the tip of his tongue just once and I was lost. I came into his mouth, my legs quivering from release.

Pulling away quicker than I expected him to, Kurt tugged my underwear back up. My lust-rattled brain instinctively reached for his erection but he gripped my wrist and pulled it away.

“We both know you’re not ready to do what I just did,” he commented.

I watched in horror as he began hanging up our potential purchases. I felt so incredibly embarrassed at that moment. I had an amazing man, one who was willing to suck me off in a Macy’s dressing room and swallow the mess and I still hadn’t put my mouth on him yet. I had no ability to repay the favor due to my inexperience and I felt shamed and useless.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“Don’t be,” he replied, adjusting himself in his jeans and I looked away, despair making itself known in my chest. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I’ve never-”

“You’ll get there,” he said with a tight smile and I couldn’t tell if he was angry or just really sexually frustrated with no hope if immediate satisfaction. “Now give me those jeans.”

Ashamed at myself, I removed the jeans from around my ankles and handed them to Kurt before pulling on my regular clothes. He waited patiently, clothes draped over his arms as I dressed and laced up my shoes.

“Don’t look like that,” he said, a phrase which had become quite familiar. “We’ll eat lunch and when we get home, you can take care of me.”

I nodded wordlessly and stood, ready to please him as soon as possible. We left the store with five enormous bags filled with pants, shirts, sweaters, a new leather messenger bag for Kurt, and a bottle of cologne for me. I immediately put on my brand new black pea coat when we walked outside.

“It makes you look taller,” Kurt said with a grin.

I blushed, hoping I could forget how terrible I had been feeling, and ducked my head as he hailed another cab.

“It’s nice and warm,” I told him. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it,” he said.

I hope they buried me in that coat.

I loved that coat.

If nothing else, I was far warmer than I had been when I stood out on street corners to play my guitar. A few days after our massive shopping trip, Kurt was at work and I was standing in the cold, my fingers going numb while it snowed. I probably should have invested in some gloves when Kurt splurged on me that day but it hadn’t occurred to me at the time.

I earned fifty dollars that day. I guess people felt really bad for me or something since I was standing out in the cold and had a bit of snow in my guitar case.

I walked into a florist and spent thirty of the fifty dollars I had earned on a pretty bouquet of red roses for Kurt. He had paid up my rent for two months without even consulting me the day before. I was initially furious to the point of tears with him because I was perfectly capable of paying my rent and I didn’t want our relationship to be like that. He calmed me with a long, passionate kiss and a promise to never overstep that line again.

So, without the need to pay rent and without an expensive electric bill considering I was beginning to spend a great deal of time at Kurt’s apartment, I actually had spending money. Naturally, I wanted to spend it on Kurt, especially after everything he had done for me.

Later that evening, I showed up at his apartment, roses wrapped in pretty, decorative paper held behind my back, and knocked on his door.

He answered, looking frayed at the edges and dead tired.

“Hi,” he greeted lamely, turning away but leaving the door open.

I walked in, frowned, and closing the door behind me as he collapsed on his sofa near the roaring fire. He had a full glass of wine sitting on his coffee table surrounded by various sketchpads filled with different designs.

“Long day?” I asked, trying to cheer him with my chipper mood. I rocked back and forth on my feet, keeping the roses hidden.

“I have to have these designs done by tomorrow,” he sighed. “And I wasted my entire Saturday morning by taking you shopping. Now I’m extremely behind.”

I froze at his words. He flipped back and forth through different pages in the sketchbook, ignoring my presence as he did so. I had seen Kurt tired and annoyed with his rigorous schedule before, but I’d never been the cause of late work. Guilt twisted in my belly at the thought of causing him stress.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, genuinely apologetic. “Why didn’t you say something about it?”

“Because you lacked a proper coat, Blaine.”

“Well we – we didn’t have to spend all that time buying those other things. We could have just-”

“You needed all of those things as well,” he said flatly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not blaming you. I’m blaming myself for my failure of time management.”

Biting my lip, I looked around the room as if the walls might hint at the proper thing to say to rectify the situation. When nothing appeared, I stared at the top of his head and figured there was no reason to wait any longer before revealing my gift.

“I – I bought you these,” I said shyly, sliding the roses out from behind my back and holding them out for him to take.

Annoyed, he tossed his pencil down and looked up at me. He saw the roses and his face immediately softened. The flowers were slightly dusty with snow.

“They’re lovely,” he said with a tired smile. “But…why did you buy them for me?”

Slightly taken aback at the question, I shrugged. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. I don’t have the money to buy you a whole new wardrobe or take you out to a five star restaurant, but since you paid my rent, I had a little extra to spend.”

Kurt began laughing lightly as he stood and accepted the roses.

“You’re too cute,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “But you don’t have to buy me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“You should have saved the money for yourself,” he said as he walked into the kitchen and opened a cupboard, pulling out a pretty glass vase.

“It’s not like there’s anything I really need,” I told him. “You’ve bought me everything I might want.”

“Then put it away for a rainy day next time,” he said while filling the vase with water.

“I just – it’s not fair that you buy me all this stuff and I can’t repay you.”

“You don’t have to repay me.”

“But-”

“Blaine,” he sighed. “I already told you. Buying you things makes me happy.”

“Well it makes me happy to-”

“You want to make me happy, right?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“Then stop worrying about it,” he said, stepping away from the vase and moving to stand in front of me. “I’m happy paying for you. I’m happy when I get to care for you. I don’t need you to reciprocate with roses or trinkets or anything of the sort.”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” I said sadly. “I thought you’d like them.”

“I do like them,” he said with an encouraging smile. “They’re beautiful. But I like you more.”

“Well I like you more than all the stuff you buy for me.”

Smile vanishing, Kurt rolled his eyes and returned to the counter. He began cutting the stems of the roses and placing them into the vase.

“When will you stop fighting me over this?”

“When you realize that I don’t need to be kept,” I stated, hoping this wasn’t the beginning of a major argument.

“I don’t think you need to be kept,” he returned firmly. “Don’t assume that’s what I think. I told you why I like to spend money on you. Just accept it.”

“Kurt, I just don’t-”

“You know,” he said, dropping the scissors on the counter, “I don’t try and change you. I don’t try and force you out of your apartment when you feel like the world is too much and all you want to do is stay inside. I accept the fact that you’re some kind of shut in. To be honest, it can be a bit trying at times but I don’t make a big fuss about it because that’s who you are. You’re the lonely, lost boy and maybe you like being that way. Whatever. That’s your issue. But if I’m trying so hard to accept you, maybe you could stop objecting to one of the things that makes me me.”

My jaw snapped shut at the end of his speech.

Kurt was right.

He was…so right. I spent all the time trying to stop him from buying me things when he spent all of his time being loving, caring, generous, and sweet. He was only doing what he liked, being who he was and there I was trying to make him stop it all. I loved Kurt. And I loved him for everything that he was at that point, shopping trips and all.

I had to get over this. Kurt wasn’t trying to keep me, he was just…trying to show how much he loved me. And if buying me things was one of the ways he liked to show it, then who was I to try and change that?

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I’m sorry. I never thought of it that way.”

“I know,” he said, setting the roses on his kitchen table. “It’s hard to see things like that when you’ve never even been in a relationship before or when you’re not used to someone caring for you.”

“I really just wanted to do something small to show you that I loved you,” I said as I hung my head.

“I know you did,” he said gently, walking over to me and kissing my forehead. “And I appreciate it. Next time, though, save the money for yourself.”

Kurt returned to his spot on the sofa and picked up his pencil. I knew he was busy and maybe I should have left, but I generally preferred being around Kurt to being alone. Eventually I joined him on the couch and tucked my legs beneath me, picking up one of the books he always had on the coffee table and began flipping through the pages.

“You know, we should have bought some gloves the other day,” I said offhandedly, hoping I could show him that I was willing to work to make everything okay. “I was playing my guitar today and my fingers nearly froze to the bone. Do you think we could find some of those gloves that show your fingertips?”

When I saw the corners of his lips turn up while he bent over his work, I knew I had done something right.

“I can definitely find something that will work,” he said.

I nodded and that was the end of the discussion. Never again did we argue over money or who paid for what. It became natural for Kurt to pay when we went out. Occasionally I would pick up the tab when we had coffee or breakfast at our favorite café and Kurt would smile indulgingly as I handed my money over. I always felt proud whenever I was able to pay for things, like I was in a grown-up relationship.

In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have needed to feel like that in the first place.

I know that, so far, it seems like money was the issue in our relationship but really that was never the problem. It never settled with me right at first, but we were together for three years and it was just something I got used to. I hope it doesn’t seem like I was taking advantage of Kurt’s wealth because that’s definitely not what it was. I think you can see how stubborn I was in the beginning, but after that it just seemed useless to keep bringing it up.

So I didn’t.

I’m not a bad person, I promise. I never wanted him to be my…sugar daddy or anything like that. Before Kurt came along, I made my way in the world just fine on my own. I paid my bills, I bought groceries, and I worked long hours.

But…Kurt just made things a little easier.

There’s no harm in that, right?

Little did I know the money issue would be a catalyst for something far more problematic.