November of 2015

“Yo, B!” David called, taking one more big sip of his Duff beer. “You can't sleep now, dude! And not in the middle of a dance club, man!” He said, awakening Anderson with a blow on his ear.

“I'm awake, I'm awake.” Blaine said, taking the fruit-ish drink from a table in front of him – he didn't even know whose drink was it, but he needed alcohol on his blood. At lease more alcohol than he already had – and gulping a huge sip of it. “Shit, this is some salty stuff!” He said, as he tried to spit most of it. As Blaine checked the time on his phone, seeing it was past 3 a.m., he rushed himself up, stumbling.

“Whoa, cowboy, slow down there!” Wes said, grabbing him by the shoulder. “If any of us fall down right now, none will ever get up again.” Blaine nodded, pushing back the urge to puke on the small sofas that there were on the club.

“Blaineeeeers!” Nick appeared from the dance floor, with a bottle of Jack Daniels only half empty. “Wow, dude, you look pale. Guys, let B-Blaine go home, ‘kay?” Asked the former Warbler. Wes and David sighed, but eventually gave in.

“Okay, Blaine, riding a car wouldn't be good for you, mate.” Said Wes, when taking the boy out of the noisy place. “But you said a friend of your brother lives on that tiny house over there, right?” The dark-haired boy could only nod. “Can you climb that tree? Its branches sure won't break if you step on them, and there's a open window there.”

“Thanks, Wes. I'll- I'll call ya t'morrow, bro. See y'around.” Blaine said, drunkenly walking – or stumbling – to the light-yellow house. He was almost sure it was light blue, instead of yellow, but he was very, very drunk, so it really didn't matter.

Thankfully, the fence was low and also was the first branch of the he'd have to climb, no need for any special, much too risky moves. Blaine only went three large branches up to reach the second floor's window, the open one. A tiny, white and brown cat with caramel eyes slept on a couch and Blaine didn't remember the Marshall (his brother's friend) had a cat – or a MacBook Pro, which was closed on a clean desk. Maybe Marshall got a girlfriend?

As soon as Blaine lied on the couch – though he didn't have the gut to take the sleeping kitten out of there –, none of the weird house mattered and his heavy eyelids closed as he drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, on Kurt's couch

“No, ‘Cedes, you can't come visit tomorrow, honey.” Kurt spoke on the phone, to his dear friend Mercedes, whom he hadn't seen in over a year. “I'm sorry, but dad's got a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning... Not that early, it's eleven in the morning. And I was planning to get some sleep, before you tell me to and hang up on me, but apparently the club near my home is on fire today. Not literally! I just meant the music's too loud for a week day.” He heard Mercedes telling him she was sorry, and rambling about how cruel her new producers were, but at least she was living her dream, instead of being stuck in Lima because your father's got a brain tumor – stage 3. “Wait, wait. Shut up, ‘Cedes, I think I heard something.” He said, thinking he had heard a loud thump coming from the office on the second floor. “Must be Layla.” He sighed as the black girl continued on talking.

It was past four by the time he finally hung up with Mercedes and around five when he went to bed, the music in the club finally lowering the volume. Layla followed him to bed, coming out of the office upstairs. The tiny, tiny cat had been his best friend for a few months now, seven or eight. For over a year all of his friends had gone away to live whichever dream they had, most of them in New York, others to L.A., but the day Kurt knew he was accepted in NYADA together with Rachel, he got a call from the hospital, his father were there again and, this time, it took Burt eleven weeks to wake up. By the time his father woke up, Rachel had been gone without him, he got money from part of the car repair shop his father had, started to look for jobs in Lima and looking for places to rent.

He spent five weeks living on a shoe box, but it was terrible, the lights were out way too often, the water was not drinkable or showerable, so he took baths on his father and Carole's place everyday until he got together enough money to buy the little house he now lived in. It had two floors, but each had one bedroom and one bathroom, despite the kitchen on the first floor. Carole convinced him on adopting a pet, so he wouldn't be so lonely after the time he spent three weeks sleeping on the couch of his old house, saying he was there for his father, when, in reality, his own house felt lonely and melancholic.

Kurt didn't know what physical closure was. He had never had sex, or even had a real kiss – only one time with Brittany and another with Karofsky, and the last one hadn't even been consensual. Thing is, the boy didn't miss having lips pressed to him or being gently pushed to bed before a physical interaction. He had just never felt that way to miss it. And he kind of wanted to miss contact, once he couldn't have it. His own hands and sex toys weren't satisfying and he wondered if he'd be better off alone anyways. But then, he always came to that conclusion, why would he? If that miserable man with absolutely no hope for anything but for a raise at the coffee shop and diner he worked at, why wouldn't he be better with someone to warm his bed on cold days, to hug him tightly after a long work trip, to comfort him?

After so many more thoughts, the man finally closed his eyes and dreamed he actually had someone by his side, pretending the tail of the cat next to his was the hair of a kind, loving man against his nose.

The next day, 8 in the morning…

Kurt woke up nuzzled against his pillow, and sighed as he checked the time on his phone. It was early. Way too early... Layla wasn't in his bed with him, and she usually was there all night long. He could hear her soft meows from upstairs. He got up and grabbed a signed baseball bat he owned – he kept it by the bedroom door, the neighborhood wasn't the safest – and climbed the stairs silently.

“H-Hello?” He stuttered, scared. There were noises coming from the office and they suddenly stopped at Kurt's voice. “C-Come out.” He called, preparing to hit someone. No reply. He kicked the door open and was going to hit the bump curled up in covers on the floor when he saw the most beautiful eyes peek out the mess of blankets. They were hazel and their owner had dark, curly hair.

“Please don't hit, please!” The man pleaded, and Kurt softened at the sound of his voice, as terrified as it sounded. He put the bat down and let go of it. “Thank you, thank you. I'm so sorry, I don't even know what to say.”

“Start by your name, and then, if I happen to decide you're no criminal and/or murderer, you can tell me how and why you're here.” Kurt suggested, helping the man to his feet. “I'm Kurt, by the way.”

“Blaine. Blaine Anderson.” Hummel almost choked on his breath.

“The lead singer of The Warblers?”

“Yeah, how do you know me?”

“I was the countertenor of New Directions, we were going to compete against you guys on Regionals, but you bailed. Hell, I even went there to spy!” They both laughed and Kurt sighed at the memory. “Too bad I was caught on the entrance and couldn't go past the principal doors. We could have met.”

“We have, right now.” Said Blaine. He was really pretty and his voice was soft and firm.

“I guess you owe me an answer as for why you're here.”

“Yesterday, I was drunk and it was around three a.m. when I came here, but trust me, I thought your house was my friend's Marshall. I swear I am no house invader, I'm so sorry.”

“It's okay. Do you want some coffee?”

“You're– You're not kicking me out?”

“Why? Should I?”

“No, no. I just- after barging into your house, I thought I'd be picked up by the police.”

“Then it's your lucky day, Mr. Blaine Anderson. But I have to pick up my father at eleven, if you don't mind.”

“No, no, not at all.” With that, both boys went downstairs for some breakfast, trying to ignore how fascinated they were by each other.

The same day, 10.30a.m.

“Blaine, it was really nice meeting you today.” Said Kurt, putting away the last plate from breakfast. Blaine was leaning against the kitchen counter and just talked with his now host. Kurt was so nice, he was kind and adorable, and had freckles, tiny, tiny, freckles you'd only see if you payed close attention to his face. And that's what Blaine had done for the day. Or, at least, for the past hour and a half, while Kurt talked and smiled and was just being cute. “Thanks for making my house a little less lonely. But I'm afraid I have to get ready to go and get my father.”

“Yeah, sure. Go and… get ready.”

“I will, but could you- uhm… could you wait for me?” Kurt asked sweetly, a blush creeping up his cheeks and a small smile on his lips.

“I could, yeah. I could do that.”

“Okay, I'll take a shower and just put some clothes on.” The countertenor informed, already going upstairs for the bathroom that had a shower.

Wes and David's place, that day, that time

Wes got up first, not daring to wake up his roommate. Who was in his bed. Naked. And it kind of frightened him what they might have done since they were both gay and lonely. And young. He took some aspirins and made coffee for both him and David, apart from eating last week's cold pepperoni pizza. Just when he checked the time – 10.40 – his phone rang, a picture of Blaine on the screen.

“What's up, B?” He asked, taking a bite of the pizza.

“I barged into the wrong house and the owner's super nice and pretty.” He rushed to say, in a low voice.

“Oh, how boring. David woke up naked next to me. I don't remember a thing and it sucks.”

“Nick owes me twenty bucks.” Blaine muttered.

“What?! You were expecting us to hook up?! And you bet on it?!”

“Pretty much. You did that with me and that Sebastian kid.”

“Point taken.”

“Why, thank you. I suggest you tell David you slept on his bed, but don't remember why.” Blaine said, trying to help out his friend through his cellphone. “Or maybe you go back to bed and play Angry Birds like you do everyday for thirty minutes before you wake up.”

“Have you installed any sort of spying stuff in my room? Because that's illegal. Or, even better! Could you show me what happened last night?” Wes pleaded, sounding angst-y. “Oh, crap, David just woke up. I can hear him moving around from the kitchen table. I gotta go mess up his bed. Bye, Blainers, and good luck with the guy!” He hung up quickly, before Blaine even had the time to say goodbye. But then, it didn't really matter, because Kurt was standing in front of him, only in a towel, dripping wet from a shower.

“Do you need any clothes?” The man asked, and Blaine took a few second to answer, because damn, those abs. “Blaine?” Kurt waved his hand in the intruder's face, making him snap out of it.

“Uh… clothes? What for?”

“Feel comfortable? I mean, those are the ones you wore yesterday, right?” Anderson could only nod, helplessly. “So… you've been with them for a while…?” Another nod. “Would you like to take ‘em off?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“Let's go to my room and I'll give you some comfy clothes. Unless you're not heading home from here. Because, then I suggest you keep those on.”

“No, I'm going home, needed to change anyways. I've got to go change into formal clothes before my application at the community college, but it'd be nice to drive comfortable.” Kurt grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a V-neck T-shirt of the Avengers.

“Ok, I've got my clothes sorted out, so all it'll take is changing. There is a bathroom under the stairs you can use.” Kurt explained, putting on some black boxer briefs without taking off the towel.

“Sure, I will. Thank you.” With that, the dark haired boy headed to the bathroom.

A few minutes later

Once Kurt was done styling his hair, putting it back, then to a side, then another, then finally settling for his usual hair style, he came out of the room to see Blaine petting Layla behind her ears. He could almost feel the purring of the kitten from where he was standing. Blaine looked amazing, the shirt was just perfect on him, as it was a little short and tight for Kurt, and the sweatpants were too long on his feet. He wore a blue and red striped pair of socks.

“Hey! You're back. I guess I should get going.” Blaine said, standing up. “Your cat's adorable, by the way. She's gotten me mad for her.”

“Yeah, she kind of did the same to me, apparently.” Kurt answered. For some reason, he didn't want Blaine to go. Maybe it was because he didn't want to get home to an empty home. Not anymore. “But, yeah, I'm already late. It's ten fifty and I should be… ten minutes from my father's house. Which will take around twenty minutes.” He calculated, concluding he was mostly screwed and him and his father would be late for the appointment. Again.

“Okay, I'll find my shoes if you save your number on my phone.” Kurt nodded and Blaine kissed his cheek innocently before running upstairs. “And take a picture for your contact!” He asked, and disappeared on the second floor. Kurt did as he asked so, blushing furiously. Once Blaine was back, shoes on and tied, he opened the door for Anderson.

“Taxi!” Hummel called, extending his hand on the street, but the only cab that was passing by didn't stop. “Shit, my dad will kill me.” He muttered under his breath. Blaine observed him curiously.

“Do you need a ride? My car's on the club's parking lot.” Kurt gasped. He didn't realized Blaine was by his side. “Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to scare you.”

“No, it's… it's okay.” Kurt's breath stopped when he looked over at Blaine – the pale sunlight of the morning was getting golden as midday approached, and the man's skin looked so well treated and… oh, who was he kidding? Blaine was absolutely gorgeous on the sunlight. Only then he realized he had to answer his friend. “A ride would be great, but only if I don't get you out of your way?”

“You're going there?” Blaine asked, pointing the exact direction Kurt was going. The brown haired man nodded slowly. “I live near the municipal hospital. I could drop you off at your father's and…” The way Blaine was speaking, so articulate, his lips were moving and Kurt almost – almost felt like, of he wouldn't be a hundred percent lonely if he did so – kissed him. “...then you could call a cab from there?”

“It sounds wonderful, and I'm actually going to the hospital.” Blaine shot him a worried look. “My dad has a brain tumor. Sucks, but it'll be okay. Eventually.” Blaine nodded, both men immobile as they stared into nothingness. “The hardest part will be getting through his passing alone.” Kurt thought, out loud. Blaine turned to him.

“Hey! You're not alone. I'm sure you'll see your family again, and maybe they'll comfort you…” Blaine started, but Kurt cut him.

“My only brother died and my mother also passed. When I was eight. I guess I'm not that lucky, heh? I only have a step-mother who lives in the hospital – she works there. My family hates me because I'm gay and I only have two friends, one of them is my cat and the other one lives in Los Angeles.” He said, and Blaine hesitantly took his hand.

“I'm your friend. I'll help you. Now, let's go. We're not waiting for a cab, anyways. I don't want to make you any more late than you already are.”

“T-Thank you.” The man choked, and Blaine guided Kurt to his car.

Lima Municipal Hospital

“Jesus, won't these exams come out already?” Kurt asked, tapping his foot angrily on the white tiles of the waiting room. Burt was sitting on one of the many plastic chairs and kept asking his son to be quiet.

“Why are you in such rush, Kurt?” He asked. “We both know I'm not okay. And I won't ever be.”

“Dad, please. It's hard enough for both of us already, please don't say that..” The son pleaded, plopping on a chair beside the sick man. “I'm sorry. This whole situation gets the best of me.”

“Don't let it, kiddo. It's not painful for me, I wish it weren't for you. Only you and that cat alone on the house all day long… That's not what I want for you.”

“I'm a waiter at the diner close to home, dad. I'm not that bad, okay?”

“Keep tellin' that to yourself, kid. You should hang out with that Blaine guy, you seemed less sad by his side. He'd take care of you, y'know.” Bur muttered, sitting up. He placed a hand to his son's thigh and sighed. The man who drove them to the hospital seemed to like Kurt a whole lot and looked like he'd make the world eat on Kurt's hand, if the blue eyed man ever asked him to. And that's what Kurt deserved.

“Blaine and I have only just met today.”

“And you plan on not talking to him until he comes to you? That's not how a friendship works, kiddo.” With that, the doctor that had accompanied Burt throughout his disease showed up and called their names. He was young with dark hair and green eyes, muscles prominent even from under the vest he wore. Both father and son prepared themselves for bad news, even though Burt – and only Burt – had some hope buried inside him. Deep, deep down inside…

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Said Doctor Truman, once they were out of the waiting room. Burt and Kurt answered politely, but under their breaths. “Burt, you have got cancer on stage 3, on the verge of stage 4. There is no other way to say that. It's growing on the same speed it was without the chemotherapy, so it would be better to stop it.” Kurt sighed, once more fighting back tears while holding his father's hand on Dr. Truman's room. “If you need someone to talk to, the hospital offers a specialist twice a week, for free.” He informed, and closed his folder.

“How much time do I have?” Burt asked, a single tear falling form his left eye. Kurt tried to stay strong, but let out a gasped sob, tears freely streaming down. The doctor sighed.

“I'd say from four to eight weeks, at least.” He finished, taking off his glasses and getting up from his chair. “I am truly sorry, I know how hard it is to have someone close with a brain tumor. Life is just unfair to us all.” Dr. Truman opened the door for them, and gave Kurt a pat on the shoulder that took way too long. With that, both men walked out of the hospital devastated. Kurt called a cab and dropped his father home with a tight hug. It was another 20 minutes to his home, where he gave a twenty-dollar bill and got out without the change.

Layla immediately came to meow at his feet, he picked her up and dried some of the tears that were falling in vain, as Kurt started crying again and plopped on the couch. The cat nuzzled up against him, purring. He took out his cellphone and unlocked it to see the screen showing Blaine's number, with a photo of him on his car, smiling. He wished he could smile, and sent him a text message.

Could you meet me at Mama Fay Diner at 8pm? –K

Okay. –B

Okay.

So you /did/ read The Fault In Our Stars! Knew it!

Yes, I did, okay?

Okay.

“Ohmygod, stop flirting with me!”

Blaine was a dork. And also the only one who had the ability to make him laugh at the time.

At Blaine's place

Blaine was having a hard time picking out his clothes for the college application. He didn't own any suits and couldn't rent one just one hour before the event. But everything had to be perfect, and not just because Blaine himself was kind of a perfectionist, but because the man had been home, doing nothing for over a year. It was Jeff, his friend and former Warbler, who reminded him of his high school dream – being a songwriter and, on free times, an actor and/or singer. The man had his life planned out when tragedy striked.

His brother was shot. New York, the middle of a school shooting. Cooper was a kindergarten teacher during his TV shows breaks. He was only a substitute, but it was more than enough to keep their family well-being in Westerville, Ohio. But then, after Cooper passed, the Andersons were old and couldn't get a job anywhere. Blaine had applied even to Oxford, along with many other good colleges, just in case his artistic dream didn't work out and he had to do something else – he opted for literature, as he was writing and reading constantly. But, when the Andersons got kicked out of their three-floor mansion, Blaine had to get all his money together and buy them a little house on Lima, where things were a little cheaper.

 Blaine wasn't unhappy, even with all the mess in his life, never, for even a second, Blaine Anderson considered himself an unhappy man. Sure, he had come home late, drunk, crying and cursing his life, but who hasn't? wes and David had come back to Ohio for a Warbler reunion, and decided they'd both be better off around here, as the stress and responsibility were too much to take at Yale. Anderson was angry, at first. It wasn't everybody who got into Yale and they were suddenly dropping out? But then, he slowly learned to embrace the choices of his friends. It still didn't sound appealing to him, but Blaine was living with it very happily.

Also, now he had Kurt. Kurt was loving, kind, gentile and… well, beautiful. Blaine had a hard time admitting to himself how much beauty one could have. He thought about kissing the man since he peeked out of the blanket he slept with on the tiny sofa at Kurt's house and saw how a) Kurt wasn't Marshall; b) gorgeous a man could be. His lips were another distraction, of course – who said Kurt was allowed to have such apparently delicious, rosy lips? –, but, by what Blaine heard from him and observed, what Kurt needed right now was a friend. Only a friend…

By the time he checked the time, Blaine saw he only had fifteen minutes to leave and arrive on time at the community college. He quickly tied his shoes and adjusted his tie one more time before grabbing the car keys and leaving as fast as possible.

7.30p.m., Kurt's place

Kurt wasn't even worried about his encounter with Blaine until his phone beeped with a text. Okay, Kurt wouldn't be quiet since he got to work, at six. His workplace was a tiny diner, called Mama Fay Diner. It had fewer tables than most diners, but it had a balcony and a cashier, which, for that place, could be called improvement. Many truckers that drove through Lima were eager to eat on the small place, even though Kurt wasn't very eager to serve them – usually mean and disrespectful, dirty and without great manners, but nothing the man wasn't familiar with. Mama Fay was an old woman who insisted on coming to open the diner everyday at four, and everyone who worked there was a bit scared of her, so they let the woman be.

Kurt's iPhone beeped for the second time and he finally took it to see a text from Blaine. The grin on his face couldn't be bigger. Turns out it couldn't, when the second message popped on the screen.

Hey, just got home. Will leave in a few –B

I can't wait to tell you all about my application! –B

That's good, right? I can't wait to hear it! It is weird I'm friends with a guy who barged into my house (no offense, though)? –K

None taken. And I don't know if it's weird. You sure don't feel weird to me. –B

??? I'm guessing /you're/ weird. -K

I like it. –K

Why thank you, sir. We all have our ways of being rather exquisite. –B

Well, well, well, look at the dapperness of Mr. Anderson. It's 7:45, btw. Aren't you going to be late for something? ;) –K

A queen is never late. –B

Seriously? Okay. –K

Okay. –B

That's sticking around? I feel cheesy, yuck! Hey, I have to get back to work, or Ms. Fay is going to kill me with her cane. See you! –K

See you. –B

Kurt smiled at his phone, until his grin was repressed by the yelling of his boss. Hummel put away his phone and went to take the order from a table with a ginger woman and a man with black hair. They were young and laughing, but Kurt couldn't quite tell whether they were or not a couple. The guy moved his head a little too much to be straight. Or even active in bed, but that didn't mattered.

“Good evening!” Kurt said, when he got to the table, but his smile dropped a little to see his father's doctor with a blue scarf and tight T-shirt. “Hello, Dr. Truman.” He said, politely.

“Kurt, hi! This is Sarah, she's my friend. We're waiting for our boyfriends to get here.” He informed casually. The waiter had to contain his mouth from dropping right in front of the man. “And please, call me Henry.” He asked, and Kurt nodded.

“C-Can I take your orders?” The man asked, and took notes of both their orders. Two guys, both men strong and wearing a suit and a tie entered the diner, seating on the same table as the young doctor and his friend. Kurt observed, dead quiet, while the girl and her boyfriend kissed gently, then said hushed hellos to each other while the couple in front of them shared a passionate, fiery, uncomfortable for others kiss. He took two more notes on the guys' orders and went away. “These sure will give you a lot of trouble, Max.” Kurt joked, handing the table to the guy who'd take the next shift. Max just laughed and pretended to be upset.

The other waiter, Max, was around sixteen and had caramel hair, freckles on his nose and cheekbones, aside from clear grey/green eyes. He honestly was cute and seemed to have a good body under the uniform they had to wear for work, besides apparent good taste in clothes, judging from the clothes he came in the diner with. That day, Max was in simple jeans, a black all-star, and a light grey t-shirt. Kurt didn't check him out, though. He had better things to think about.

In that moment, the little bell that hang on the door rang and Kurt looked over to the glass door being pushed open. Blaine was coming in, wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, with some writing done in dark grey. He wore dark blue jeans and some dark green all-star, besides a marine blue jacket tied around his waist. His hair was gelled back and the product tamed the curls Kurt had once seen. He locked eyes with Blaine and both men smiled. The blue eyed boy rushed over to him and hugged him, feeling Blaine's dry lips against his cheek once the man was letting go of him.

“Hey.” Blaine said, breathless.

“Hi.” They were out of words to say, just gazing into one another's eyes. Their faces were really close, and both men could feel the entire place staring at them, waiting for some action. “I'll change and I'll be back in a bit. Max or Tanya should be around here. It's shift change, so we have fewer people working. Wait on the balcony, yes?”

“Of- of course. Thanks.” Blaine answered, watching as the taller man's hips swayed when he climbed some little stairs.

“You're making a move or what, man?” Blaine heard a voce ask him, and felt a hand poking his arm. The man looked over at a rather cute barista, he was tall and slim, caramel haired and with grey eyes. “I'm Max.” He introduced himself, offering a beer to Blaine.

“I- Thank you. I'm Blaine.”

“I'm serious, you know,” the man said. “Kurt's been working for longer than I, which means I see him getting out of here everyday for the past months. His father already came to pick him up, and a blonde girl, but never guys. Also, I had never seen him smile or hug anyone.” Without an answer from the hazel eyed man, Max continued: “Listen, I might be super wrong and I don't know for how long you know each other, but I'm guessing a few years.”

“A day.” Blaine corrected, and the waiter's eyes widened.

“Man, you two look like you know each others for a long time! You've got that connection!” Max exclaimed, and Blaine grinned. The guy was really nice and seemed to care about Kurt.

“What connection?” A blonde girl, with the diner's uniform, appeared from behind the balcony.

“Tan, this is Blaine, he's Kurt's special friend.” The boy said, making the blonde laugh. “Although he refuses to make a move, can you believe that?” Max explained, and the girl – Tanya, as it read on her uniform – faked surprised.

“Blaine! You wouldn't!” She joked, and the dark haired man smiled, wondering why Kurt was taking so long to get down. “Okay, now, seriously. I've been working here for three years, since I was fourteen. Kurt joined the staff as soon as he turned twenty, by what he told me. I've been watching that man come in and out of work, and he always looked kind of… sad, you'd say.” Blaine nodded, getting exactly what she meant. “A month after he was here, we became friends. Not that close, but also not just friends – don't take it the other way! – something more. He shared things with me and I did the same with him. I bet you already know his dad has cancer, as, I assume, you've known each other for long…” He nodded just as the grey/green eyed boy interrupted her.

“A day! They know each other for a day!” Max corrected, and Tanya's mouth dropped. Blaine couldn't repress a smile.

“But anyways, as I was saying,” she continued, after recovering from what seemed a big ‘shock'. “Kurt has a lot of reasons to be sad, despite all the smiling. Today was the first time I saw him truly smile.” It was the second person who told him Kurt hadn't really smiled in a long time, so it must be the absolute truth, right? All these people, having known the brown haired man for so long… “So please don't make his life more sad than it already is. You've clearly got a chance to make that man happy, so please do it. Please.”

“I- I'll do my best, uhm, Tanya.” He answered, and Kurt appeared on the top of the stairs, with painfully skinny jeans, white and black boots and a white social shirt, together with a light grey vest. “Christ…” Blaine whispered, as Kurt reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Go get him, tiger.” Said Tanya, pushing him lightly on Kurt's direction. Both her and Max waved at him as he turned to them one last time.

“Ready?” Kurt asked, looking at Blaine happily.

“You bet I am. Where are we going?” The man asked, offering Kurt an arm, which was gracious and warmly taken.

“My place. I left some pasta ready before I came to work.” He informed, as they both went out the diner's glass door. The night had officially fallen upon the little diner and it was no longer chilly, but pretty cold for early November. Usually, cold only came around in Lima in the end of the eleventh month of the year, sometimes only in December. “Gee, it's freezing.” Kurt said, unlinking his arm from Blaine's to hug himself.

The hazel eyed man untangled his jacket from his waist and covered Kurt's shoulders with it, keeping his right arm upon the other's man shoulder, bodies pressed together as they walked. It wouldn't last for more than ten minutes – the walk to Kurt's place – as they were getting close to the club where Blaine was the previous night and just into Kurt's block. The blue eyes man hesitant and suddenly put an arm around Blaine's waist, looking up from the sidewalk and linking eyes with Blaine as if asking if the gesture was okay. They were silent and close and everything felt right.

“We're here.” Kurt whispered, as if speaking in a lower voice would break something between them. Blaine reluctantly took his jacket away from Kurt as the brown haired man searched for his keys inside his pocket. “Hang on, I found it.” Informed him, trying to pull out the object from inside a pocket on the absurdly tight jeans. “Gosh, I do have to carry those around on an easier place to get them.” He said, unlocking the door to the light yellow house. Both men went in and cleaned their feet on the front porch.

Blaine and Kurt were immediately greeted by a hungry, food demanding Layla. The blue eyed man went to pour her some food and water, then joined his guest on the couch, making some space between outfit sketches, clothes and cat toys. It was cleaner in the morning, before Kurt got some horrible news about his father. They sat in silence until Blaine's phone rang, and the young man got up to pick up.

“Hello?” He said, by the window. Kurt observed him carefully. “Hi, Dad, it's been a while, I kn… No, dad, I'm not fuck… I've made some friend… Father! They're mal… Yes, Wes is h… Jesus, let me talk!” He raised his voice, then turned to Kurt with apologizing eyes, only to get a nod as a reply while the older man went for a glass of water in the kitchen. “I'm close to Marshall's. It's on the same block, and the male host's name is Kurt. Can I talk to mom?” Blaine went silent. Too silent. Kurt turned from the kitchen counter, where he was sitting on, legs facing the stove. “No, I'm not going. This is your fault, Father. You know it, man, don't pretend you don't! Jesus, I don't understand why you married her if you kept sp… I can say anything I want to! I'm twenty one, dad, and I'm saying that I'm not ashamed of the things you did to my mother! You would have washed the floor, wouldn't you?... Please, you'd push her out a window with a stick, if you could, don't put this on your elder age!” Blaine hung up suddenly and Kurt turned to face the sink and stove once more. It was a few minutes in more silence until the man in the kitchen heard a muffled sob.

“Oh, Blaine.” He sighed, getting up and sitting on the couch next to him. “Take that pillow out of your face, honey.” Blaine did so, but didn't look at Kurt. “Hey, I'm your friend, right? So, tell me what's going on.”

“C-Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“Go on.”

“Can you… I mean, can I… C-Can I lay my head on- on your chest?” Kurt looked at him, speechless. He didn't expect that. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I'm going home.”

“Hey, no. You just… surprised me. I didn't think you were touchy, but I'm okay with that. We all need some physical contact, don't be embarrassed.” Explained the man, caressing the back of Blaine's neck before the younger man snuggled his nose against Kurt's chest, and didn't it feel like heaven. This sure could be trouble. No, this sure was trouble, and Kurt knew it. There was just no escape once you've gone down that path.

1.43am, Kurt's place

Blaine cried for over an hour on Kurt's chest. He just let a bunch of tears out, and the blue-eyed man could never complain about how his shirt was wet, because of how good it felt to have Blaine in his arms. They should be friends. They were friends. And nothing more. Both men pretended to be content about it, because, hey, they had only just met and were getting to know each other.

After all the crying, Kurt convinced Blaine to tell him what was going on. So he spilled everything: His mother had accidentally “slipped” in some water after his father had washed the floor and fell out the window, her body found with bruises all over it and seven broken ribs, three on the left side and four on the right. Blaine's Father, Richard, had never stopped and listened to something Blaine had learned in school, or asked how was his day going, things fathers are supposed to do. Kurt said he was sorry so many times they both lost count, and Blaine had to convince him that heating up the pasta was a better idea than saying he felt so sorry for him. Again.

Stomachs full and comfy clothes on (well, Kurt, because Blaine didn't have any spare clothes, since he wasn't staying over), they went back to the living room couch and watched a movie – well, the first ten minutes of Love, Actually, but Kurt just started crying after the fourth scene and Blaine listened to all the sadness that was tucked inside of him. They spent one hour talking (Kurt) and listening (Blaine) and then two more just comforting each other, occasionally falling asleep tangled up in the couch at half past midnight.

Kurt woke up first, his face so close to Blaine he stopped breathing, afraid to wake the man. Kurt's sketches were on the coffee table, all piled up. The clothes that had spent the afternoon on the couch were folded and placed on the floor, but Layla had found it's way to them and lied upon all Kurt's shirts and sweaters. The brown haired man looked around, it was dark outside and snowing. Snowing! In early November! He had to bite back a giggle and got up from the couch. When he checked the time, he finally realized how time flied with Blaine. In that moment, the dark haired boy stirred and cracked one eye open, a smile growing in his sleepy face.

“Mornin', K.” He greeted, and the other man smiled at the nickname.

“It's one forty five, Blaine. In the morning.”

“It is?” He asked, sitting up. “Oh. I should get going. My car's just a little after the diner and…”

“I'm not letting you go anywhere, Blaine. It's late, snowing, cold, and it's a dangerous neighborhood.” When Kurt saw he was opening his mouth to protest, Hummel immediately back fired. “Blaine. No. you've slept on the office's couch before, you'll be just fine.”

“…Okay…?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I am not re doing The Fault In Our Stars with you, Blaine Anderson!” Kurt said, as he helped the man up. Then, there was a strong lighting and everything was lightened up. Kurt let out a scream and jumped back to the couch, dropping Blaine back, too. A thunder followed and Kurt clutched to Blaine's t-shirt. Anderson chuckled slightly and put an arm around his host's shoulders.

“Hey, calm down. It's just a thunderstorm, it'll go away in no time.” He reassured Kurt, in vain. The only light that came from the kitchen went out after another lightning. “Come on, we've got some candles to light up!” He said, taking Kurt's hand and pulling him from the sofa, maybe a little too strong, because the blue-eyed man stumbled to his chest and Kurt's cheek pressed against Blaine's lips. “Whoa, sorry.” He apologized, still holding the older man.

“It's… it's okay. We're okay. What did you say about the candles again?” Kurt said, changing subject and grabbing his way o the kitchen by the living room. Blaine followed, smiling and he got a hold on Kurt's waist, walking him to the kitchen. They were more loose and comfortable around each other and a little breathless when they hugged for too long, apart from having their faces close together too many times on a day, but… well, what could go wrong?