A/N Oh, hi. An update!

Alright, epic TL;DR, but I want to say this anyway. This has been delayed for every reason under the sun, all of them very boring, though my ask box on tumblr is open to any who want one. ANYWAY, I've been writing this chapter for a long time, and it was looking to be ridiculously long, and to be honest, intimidating the fuck out of me. I finally sat down and planned how to deal with this more efficiently, and I've decided to split what was chapter ten up into three or four chapters, so I can update once every week/two weeks for a little while (phew, 'cause I'm back at uni this week, too) Basically I was staring at this going, 'I still have so many things to write before chapter is finished…' and finally realised I'd bitten off more than I could chew. So, I'm sorry for that, and I'm sorry that I have a terrible attention span, and less time than I'd like, and poor organisational skills, and the inability to avoid starting two more WIP's. I hope you'll forgive me, and thank you to everyone who's still with me, and has asked me if I'm still updating. It was actually an ask on tumblr a couple of days ago that made me force myself to sensibly get my head around this at last.

As a result of splitting this, there are probably going to be some, 'what, you're leaving it there?' moments, but I hope it's not too bad. I still went wild with my beta's notes (as always, the beautiful kyrakahn) and wrote another two thousand words after I got it back from her. See? I have issues. I probably should have sent it back to her again, but I'm impatient. I hope it's not incomprehensible. Also, this part of the chapter has a Cedric/Blaine bit that was such a bitch to write, and everything feels more manageable now that it's done.

Self-indulgence out of the way, hope you enjoy (and can even remember what happened in the previous chapters after so long…) There's waaaay too much inner monologue here, but the following parts have less Blaine, more Klaine, Blaintana, other such beautiful things.

I woke the next morning and dragged my hands over my face, pulling and stretching my features, my palms scratching over two days' worth of stubble. I scrubbed at my eyes, twisting in my sheets before opening them and blinking.

At first I felt ecstatic. But more than that. Deeper than that. Heavier. There was also apprehension, and suspense and my ever present hope. Oddly, in the moment I flickered from near-sleep to cognizance, all of those wayward feelings somehow manifested as a sort of clawing despair that made my stomach churn and flip. My mind scrabbled and panicked to grasp the reason behind why I felt so shit, finally relaxing as it focussed on Kurt, and the party, and Kurt.

And the reason I'd initially felt so ecstatic.

We'd had dinner. We'd talked. He'd told me about his dad, and Santana. He'd confided in me about getting beaten up back in Lima, and we'd sat drinking in the near dark together, almost alone. We'd… shared. Where, since we'd met, I'd fumbled for an apt description of what Kurt was to me and what I was to him, now I thought I knew.

Kurt was my friend.

He knew next to nothing about me, and probably had no reason to think there was a great deal more below the surface, but I was content to ignore that for the time being, and marvel at the fact that not only was I friends with Kurt, but I'd sought to become friends with Kurt. That was something I just didn't do. Something I usually had no desire to do.

With anyone else it was a development I would no doubt take in my stride, but with Kurt… Kurt and I were friends, and today he was going to 'talk to Cedric.' About what, I didn't know. The night before it had seemed as though even Kurt didn't know, and that uncertainty would have been somewhat comforting to me if it wasn't equally unsettling.

I had no idea whether Kurt would be confronting him, forgiving him, or taking him back. Perhaps he'd even go out of his way to console him. I'm unsure how that option crept into the mix, what with Cedric technically being in the wrong, but I think I may have been excessively projecting my view that Kurt was that decent a person. That he would want to apologise for keeping his distance from Cedric, not from obligation, but from the goodness of his heart. A heart that somewhere along the way had displayed itself to me as the kind of thing seen on a Valentine's card. Big and red and bold. Another strange example of how completely taken I was with him.

How catastrophically gone.

To be honest, Kurt taking Ced back again (how many times would that make it?) was an outcome that made me shudder. Not just for myself, and my own selfish interest in Kurt (though I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a factor) but for Kurt, and for my solid belief that Cedric was wholly, unequivocally unworthy of him. A fact that, even in our short acquaintance, I felt he'd proven time and again.

The best case scenario resulted in Kurt breaking up with Cedric, telling him that he was done with being treated like some kind of convenient consolation prize, and leaving him for good.

Actually, no… I was barely able to admit it to myself for the loathing it stirred in me, but the best case scenario would be Kurt finishing with Cedric, and falling into my waiting arms.

It was also an utterly ridiculous scenario, and one I tried not to let myself entertain for anything more than a few seconds at a time. There isn't such a thick line between hopeful and delusional, and I had no desire to skip over into the latter. To admit to myself that that was what I truly wanted would only be marginally better than admitting the very same to Kurt. I make a habit of never setting myself up for any kind of fall, and to hope for a conventional, or simply immediate relationship with Kurt was basically the equivalent of a leisurely dive off the edge of the Grand Canyon.

My imagination had absolutely no qualms in providing the particularly jagged rocks that would meet me at the bottom.

However, a close, laidback friendship with Kurt… that was actually something I had no problems with whatsoever (and I'm well aware of just how rare that is for me)

At some point during our chat the night before I'd resolved that I would tell Kurt I was gay. I hadn't intended to keep it from him indefinitely, and knew that to do so would be impossible, but I hadn't yet made any plans for when I would tell him. Now, though I still wasn't sure when, I was sure it would be soon. While we'd sat talking about Santana's sexual orientation, I had felt as if I'd begun exhaling. A vast stifling breath, stale and acrid, that had been trying to escape me for so long, and was still in the process of being expelled.

For the first time I'd started to see my constant secrecy as a bad thing. I'd always been aware that it wasn't an entirely good thing, and almost certainly not a healthy thing, but it had always felt like a necessary thing.

With Kurt it didn't.

Once Kurt had left the party with Santana, I'd sat in the dark by myself a little longer, thinking about his violent ordeal when he was seventeen, and the fact that he'd offered up the story so willingly. It made me feel sick. Not just from what Kurt had had to endure, but for the fact that he'd endured it and come out the other side so well adjusted. He at least seemed well adjusted to me. He seemed magnificent, and it had made me realise how craven my own coping mechanisms were. It's true that everyone responds differently to tearing and fraying in their life, but Kurt had made me analyse just how severe my proclivity for building walls and isolating myself were.

I'd always been content with my lack of close friends. It was part of the deal I'd signed myself up for. Yet, after spending time with Kurt and seeing the wonderful people he'd surrounded himself with, and the people that had gravitated towards him, I experienced a twinge of mourning for what I didn't have. For what I'd happily, somewhat thoughtlessly denied myself. I realised that I wanted it. I wanted it with Kurt, and I wanted it with Santana, and Wes, and Quinn and all of the others. I wanted to reach a point where I wasn't buried in the extreme of segregation and denial, but edging towards some kind of happy medium. The kind of area which Kurt had apparently found.

It had been such a fierce realisation, that I'd almost been overwhelmed, unsure whether to cry or laugh or curl in on myself and desperately try to grasp the notion of changing myself for the better. Until I'd met Kurt, I hadn't ever thought it would be for the better, and I knew, even if Kurt didn't, (wouldn't, couldn't) that I wanted to change for him too, so that I could establish a friendship with him.

A close platonic friendship held potential, yet lacked most of the possible flaws and failings of anything more. I could get to know him, and I could let him get to know me. I still suffered pangs of fear even entertaining the thought, but I felt like it was possible I would go so far as to let him know me completely. In a way that no one had since Malcolm and I had been together.

Possibly.

Either way, everything would be easier without Cedric in the picture, and that was something I had absolutely no say or sway in. I'd said my piece to Kurt. I'd even dared to tell him I thought he should leave Cedric, and that was as far as I was willing to push. The decision wasn't mine.

I sat up and stretched, a smile sparking on my face as I glanced across at my desk and spotted the almost empty bottle of Maker's Mark that Kurt had left with me the night before.

I wasn't particularly hung over, just a little listless, and what I really wanted wasn't hair of the dog, but coffee. I thought longingly of the half-decent percolated brew down at the cafeteria, but the prospect of having to get completely dressed and somewhat presentable (college presentable…) swiftly stalled that desire. Instead, I padded to my wardrobe, shivering as I covered my torso with a ratty grey t-shirt, and pulled a pair of sweats over my boxers. I'd have to be content with the nasty sachets of instant coffee down the hall in the kitchen on my floor. Who knew, maybe the experience would be awful enough to stir me into writing a strongly worded anonymous letter to Rachel's suggestion box outlining the reasons why we should be provided with a functioning coffee machine; a notion that was immediately stalled by the likelihood of her then complaining about it to me. I did like her, but the mere thought of it made my head ache.

I slid a pair of flip flops on and headed down the corridor, rubbing an eye and yawning as I stepped into the kitchen, unoccupied but for the tall strawberry blonde standing at the sink with a newspaper wedged under his arm.

Speak of the devil.

Cedric turned as I entered, both of us freezing like the proverbial rabbit. The more theatrical part of my brain chose that moment to conjure Ennio Morricone trumpets and the clanking sounds of spurs as we stood on either side of the room, eyeing each other. Pistols at our sides and an errant tumbleweed probably wouldn't have been out of place nor, I thought unfoundedly, would it surprise me if Cedric un-holstered said pistol, and shot me through the heart.

Apparently the theatrical portion of my brain was larger than I'd thought.

Just as our silence and inaction started to feel uncomfortably weird (Would he notice if I spun on my heel and slunk out again without a word? Probably. Damn) Cedric cleared his throat and shifted his weight.

"Blaine." He said stiffly.

"Hi, Cedric."

I wasn't quite able to keep my disdain from my voice, but I at least thought I was safe in the knowledge that he was under the impression that my disdain stemmed from him being an offensive, drunken dick head, rather than the supplementary source that was him holding some place (how big a place I didn't know) in Kurt's affections.

Since the disastrous dinner party, my aversion to Cedric had been frustrating me more than Cedric himself. If he was an asshole who treated Kurt well, I could have simply disliked him for being an asshole and been grudgingly happy for Kurt. If he treated Kurt badly, yet was polite to me, I could have disliked him on the basis that he was a bad boyfriend. The complication was that he seemed to be both, and I was repulsed by that, and childishly annoyed that he was in a relationship with Kurt, but I also resented him for every time Kurt had taken him back despite his glaring, unforgivable failings. That, and the fact that he had the nerve to still treat Kurt badly once forgiven. I hated it, and I hated, hated, hated that I let myself hate it. It just made it all the more difficult to hammer into my head that all I should seek from Kurt was friendship.

And of course, on top of all that he was still a drunken dick head. I desperately wished that that relatively straight forward reason was the only one behind my distaste.

Still rooted to the spot, he took in my scruffy hair and no doubt hooded eyes, "You look like you had a big night."

I smiled painfully, "Not really. I just got up."

From anyone else I'd have taken his observation as nothing more than that, but I was absolutely fine with twisting it into a veiled insult and adding it to my list of reasons why he was a perfectly put together douchebag.

Then again… the term 'perfectly put together' wasn't quite applying to him at present. There were rings under his eyes, and his shoulders were a little hunched, his hair a little flat. I'd have pointed out his hypocrisy if I had any actual desire to converse with him. While I wasn't exactly sympathetic of his uncharacteristically rough appearance, I can't say I wasn't curious of its cause.

We blinked at each other for a moment longer, silently appraising, when he jerked his arm in the vague direction of the counter top.

"The kettle's just boiled. If… that's what you're after. You know… coffee."

Okay, unexpected. I raised an eyebrow, "I look that bad?"

He shrugged one shoulder, "I can't function without a cup in the morning. I, um… I sometimes forget that most people's veins are filled with blood, not caffeine."

"Not in college." I said slowly. I hadn't expected this. This was amiable. This was borderline friendly, with a side of awkward and stilted.

He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot for a second, "Listen… Blaine, the other night…" He said slowly.

"The other night when you were a complete asshole to me in front of your friends for absolutely no reason?"

"Yeah, that night." He paused, "And as far as 'friends,' you mustn't have been picking up on the same vibes as I do… I mean, apart from Kurt."

I'm not sure what 'vibes' he'd been getting from Kurt up until the moment I'd left, but from my vantage point they hadn't been particularly friendly. I bit down that thought, and murmured, "Well, I wasn't exactly counting Santana when I said it, but go on."

"Mm, 'cause the other's clearly adore me, too." He murmured, eyes averted.

I shrugged. I couldn't tell if that was meant as a simple statement of fact, or a hunt for sympathy, but I wasn't about to gift him with the latter.

"Anyway… I was a jerk." He blurted.

"Yep."

"And I feel like it's probably best if I make amends for it, given that it seems like you'll be sticking around. No hard feelings?"

He said it stiffly, and looked impressively uncomfortable. I didn't sense much sincerity behind his words, but then again, I didn't sense a great deal of emotion at all. Maybe he did just want to bury the hatchet, however shallowly.

I furrowed my brow, "What were your hard feelings, anyway?"

"I was drunk." He said shortly, shrugging one shoulder as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, and if you treated every random stranger like that when you're drunk, I'm pretty sure you'd never be without a black eye."

He pursed his lips, "I don't hate you, if that's what you're worried about."

His tone of voice contradicted his statement, low and detached. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, at a complete loss for words, frantically trying to figure out his intentions.

"No, I'm… I'm not worried about anything, I just don't understand why you went out of your way to make me want to hate you when you'd only ever met me twice."

He exhaled, glancing at the ceiling in apparent frustration, "Look, I dunno. I was just swinging my dick around, okay? What do you want me to say?"

He was being confusingly evasive, considering he'd started the conversation, but I had a feeling I knew the grievance he was skirting around.

I took a calming breath, "Cedric… Kurt and I… we're just friends."

"And that's all you want." It wasn't a question, and his eyes didn't leave mine.

I swallowed, the back of my neck prickling ominously, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm Kurt's boyfriend. More than that, he's way too good for me. I know that. I dunno what your story is, and I have no idea which way you swing. I don't care, but I saw you sitting next to him, and fuck… I got jealous."

A wave of uneasiness travelled up my back and settled in my chest, and while my face remained passive, I could feel the sweat forming on my palms and itching under my arms.

I cleared my throat, indescribably glad that my voice came out steadily, "Do you behave that way when you see Kurt sitting next to David? Or any other guy, for that matter?"

He shrugged, "I guess I do, yeah."

"You don't trust Kurt?"

"No, it's… it's more that I'm pretty sure doesn't trust me. It's not like I've ever given him a reason not to cheat on me."

I laughed once, harshly. I couldn't help it, and he hadn't deterred me with his indirect choice of words, "You don't trust Kurt."

He gritted his teeth, "I didn't say –"

I cut in loudly, "Cedric, if he's going to mess around behind your back, it's not going to be with me."

"I honestly have no reason to think he won't." He muttered resignedly.

Apparently he thought that because he'd repeatedly indulged in infidelity, Kurt was just waiting to pay him back in kind. I wondered again why the two of them were even still together, staring silently for a moment, my mouth hanging open, before I decided I'd already learnt more about him than I cared to know.

"Okay. No," I shook my head, "I don't think I can have this conversation. I don't know you, and I don't know Kurt well enough, but I know I respect him, and I'm really not having this conversation with you."

"Fine." He said lightly.

We stood in silence for a moment, before I blurted, "He won't cheat on you."

"You're entitled to think that."

I laughed exasperatedly, looking at the ceiling, inwardly panicking, "He won't cheat on you with me."

He raised an eyebrow, "Because he doesn't want to, or because you're too noble?"

I spluttered, desperate to get out of our discussion, and losing control of it by the second, falling to pieces, "You don't know me!"

"You're not gay?" He asked.

How did he know? Did he know?

"You don't know me, Cedric." I said slowly and clearly, breathing deep and steady, "Let's leave it at that."

"You realise as long as I'm with Kurt you're going to have to spend time around me." He said airily.

I decided to just keep a constant look of disbelief on my face to save time, "Is that some kind of ultimatum? What are you getting at?"

"I'm not saying we have to be friends," He was suddenly businesslike, "In fact right now that outcome probably seems just as unlikely to you as it does to me, but you will have to put up with me."

Oh, I just disliked him more by the second. I was almost prepared to be thankful that he'd given me more just reason to.

"And I suppose you'll have to put up with me." I shrugged, voice raising faintly as I spoke, "I like Kurt. He's a good guy, and I already see him as… as a good friend, but I don't need you side eyeing me for wanting to get to know him. Just give it a rest. I could do without drama for the sake of drama, and I have no interest in your interest in Kurt."

The words sounded like a lie even as I spoke them, and I didn't doubt Cedric's disbelief in them for a second, but I didn't owe him anything, and I was perfectly honest in my lack of desire to play an active part in the successes or failures of their relationship thereon.

I'd simply be watching very closely.

He stared intently at me, nodding with a curious smile on his face, more like a wince, "Yep, okay. Sure."

I remained fixed to the spot while he looked around for a second, eventually walking past me and out the door without another word.

I could have collapsed, instead letting out a massive breath of air. Whether it was because he could see through me, or that at some point I'd slipped and given him something to see that made it obvious that it had feelings for Kurt, I didn't know. Maybe he was just jumping to a conclusion that happened to be the right one, but either way, it unnerved me. The thought that I was unable to dictate my appearance to someone was an uncommon one, and I couldn't say I liked it. I wouldn't have liked it from an acquaintance, let alone him. He may not have hated me, but I felt he'd have very little problem interfering with me.

I stared across the kitchen at the electric kettle for a full minute before exiting the room myself, no longer craving any kind of food or drink. I walked back to my dorm and grabbed a towel and my shower supplies before heading to the bathroom, stripping off, and stepping under a scalding stream of water.

Cedric had said Kurt wouldn't cheat with me because I was too noble to let anything happen, but that wasn't it. I suppose it may have been part of the reason, but I think the more straight forward (and complicated) one was that I was too fucked up. Unable to keep from overthinking everything, too jaded, too spineless. I also sincerely thought Kurt wouldn't cheat on Ced even if he did suddenly develop feelings for me, and most of all, I didn't want him to cheat on Ced. He was too good for that.

I absently scrubbed shampoo through my hair, sluggishly trying to get my head around the rest of our confrontation. Cedric knew I was gay. He'd said he hadn't, and that he didn't care either way, but he knew. He could tell without knowing me at all. He'd figured it out, Santana had figured it out. Who else? The rest of Kurt's friends? Kurt? The idea itself didn't bother me, but as always, I wanted to be the one to break the news.

I'd never had trouble keeping my homosexuality from anyone when I wanted to, and the only conclusion I could come to for my abrupt inability to mask it, the only variable between Albarn and Ohio, was Kurt. I hadn't had a crush on someone since I'd been with Malcolm in high school, and while I didn't want to use such a superficial word to describe what I felt for Kurt, I'd apparently been more obvious in my affections than I'd thought. How many longing glances had I given him? How often had I watched him too closely for slightly too long? Laughed too loudly at a joke, or blushed too obviously at an offence or brief moment of shared physical contact? I could mostly control my emotional and intellectual responses around him, but I had little to no control over my physiological reactions. Apparently they'd been merrily betraying me all along.

Yeah, I just wanted us to be friends.

Why was I even trying fool myself? Why bother?

I stepped out of the shower, drying myself quickly and securing a towel around my waist, hurrying back to my room. I had to tell Kurt I was gay, if only so I could get to him before Cedric chose to let it slip, no doubt 'accidentally.' I wanted it to be on my terms, and I wanted to be able to answer whatever questions he then put to me. He'd almost certainly want to know why I'd kept it from him at all, and I wanted to be available to explain.

As I pulled on a pair of black jeans I glanced at my cell phone on my desk, noting two new messages. I ran the towel roughly through my curls before picking it up, my heart jumping into my throat as I took in Kurt's name and their received times of ten and five minutes earlier. I opened the first, nervous butterflies in my stomach.

I'm outside with Santana. If you aren't passed out in a nest of your own filth, you should come and have breakfast with me.

Despite my tension, I laughed, unable to keep an affectionate grin off my face. I opened the second.

Blaaaaaine…? Delicious breakfast?

My smile grew even broader, and I couldn't help the small squeak that jumped from my throat as I replied. How could a text be cute?

I know you're blessed with off campus accommodation, but just so you know, us dorm rats don't actually sleep in nests.

I found a clean red polo shirt, pulling it on before I received a second text.

Oh, good, you're conscious. Coming?

I wildly looked around for a belt and a pair of shoes.

Yeah, I'll be there in a minute.

I bent to peer in the small mirror on my wall, ineffectively patting at my unruly hair for a moment before giving up and glancing at my gel. Screw it. Too time consuming. I could cope with Kurt seeing me a little ruffled for once, grabbing my pea coat as I rushed out my door (faster than I'd like to admit) to meet him.

A/N Oh, lame place to cut it. I feel pretty guilty at the lack of Kurt in this part, but like I said, I plan sections of chapters out, and they end up thousands of words longer than I intend. Next part... sometime after the weekend? Got some polishing to do.

Unrelated... tonight I realised I'd be a lot less confused most of the time if the characters I wrote weren't so confusing. Blaaaaaaaaaine!

Bron xx