Chapter 6:

Blaine sat up suddenly and looked around, eyes blurred. He could feel the buzzing beneath him, the faint ringing sound of Kurt's ringtone distant, but close at the same time. He looked down the couch at Kurt, who was draped over the arm, his legs tangled with Blaine's. Blaine started digging under the covers, trying to find Kurt's phone before the ringing stopped. Kurt stirred then and started mumbling in confusion.

"Your phone is ringing," Blaine said. "I think it's under us somewhere."

"Oh," Kurt said, pushing himself up and pulling the covers away.

Blaine slipped a hand down the cushions of the sofa bed and finally, got a grip on the phone. "Got it," he told Kurt, before handing it to him.

Kurt thanked him and answered it instantly. "Hello?" he said. A pause. "Oh, hi, Dad. Yeah, I couldn't find my phone. It slipped down the sofa. Yeah." He lay back against the pillow and covered himself up again. Blaine did the same. "What? Really? What about Carole and Finn? They are? No, no, that's great! That's great, Dad. I can't wait." There was another pause and then Kurt's eyes flickered to Blaine. "Yeah. No, we haven't discussed it. I'll ask. Just...hold on a second."

Blaine watched as Kurt took the phone from his ear.

"So, that's my dad," Kurt told Blaine. "I mean, obviously that's my dad. He's coming here for Christmas and he asked... Well, I'm asking. If you'll be there, that is. I mean, if you'll come over and spend Christmas with us. I'd love it if you did and you can meet my dad and it'll be fun. I promise."

Blaine parted his lips and started to speak, but stopped. Kurt's eyes were pleading with him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth like Blaine had the answer to world hunger. Blaine sighed quietly and then smiled.

"I would love to have Christmas with you and your dad," he told Kurt, whose shoulders sagged with relief, a broad smile on his lips.

Kurt brought the phone back to his ear, still grinning and said, "Dad? You there? Hi. Blaine said yes." There was yet another pause and Kurt's smile faded and he rolled his eyes. "Dad, will you stop, please? Me being at Blaine's doesn't mean anything happened. Yes. Dad, we're not stupid. I already said I would. Yes. Okay. Okay, good. I'm glad, too. Okay. I love you, too. Bye, Dad."

Kurt ended the call and rolled his eyes a second time.

"Everything okay?" Blaine asked.

"My dad thinks we're 'making stupid choices'," he replied, creating air quotes with his fingers. "I try to tell him we know what we're doing, but I think he's scared I'm going to, I don't know, get you pregnant or something." Kurt laughed quietly. "But never mind that. You're going to be with me for Christmas!" He was grinning again.

Blaine gave him a small smile. "Yeah," he said. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Oh, you were always invited!" Kurt informed him. "Are you okay with meeting my dad? Is it too soon? Am I making crazy assumptions and pushing you into things you aren't ready for?"

Blaine wasn't sure he would ever be ready, but it was important to Kurt and if it was important to Kurt, it was important to him, too.

"I think we're at the meet the parents stage now," he told Kurt.

Kurt beamed at him. "Really? You aren't just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I mean it," Blaine assured him. "If I was on speaking terms with my parents, I would want to introduce you, too. Although, I don't think meeting my parents would be much fun for either of us."

Kurt gave him a sad smile and reached over to clasp their hands together. "You don't talk about them," he pointed out.

Blaine looked around, uncomfortably. It was a delicate topic. For years, his parents had seemed like normal, good people, who loved their kids and would do anything for them. As he got older, Blaine could see the cracks. They said things about people like Blaine, gay people, people, they were just people and his parents acted as if they were monsters, a plague to society. When Blaine felt it, the 'difference', when he felt things for boys while the other boys were looking at girls, he had tried to push it away, tried to fight it, because if being gay meant disaster to his parents, how would they feel about him if he was gay? He had fought it as hard and for as long as he could, but, of course, it didn't go away. It grew and he grew with it, caught between feeling proud of who he was and feeling sick because of who his parents would think he was. Eventually, when he came out, things changed.

He stopped being the son they doted on, stopped being their little boy and then, finally, it all just stopped and he couldn't hold on a moment longer, couldn't withstand the remarks and the alien treatment, couldn't listen to the frantic whispers coming from his mom and dad's bedroom late at night as they discussed him and who he was, what he had done to them as a family and so, he had up and left and never once looked back. There was no turning back. There was no way to go but forward and even that had gone badly. Up until Kurt.

"No," Blaine said. "I don't like to think about back then," he told Kurt. "It was... It was hard and they were never there like I needed them to be and I can't help wondering what they would think if they knew what I did now." He sighed. "It was awful. They were awful, but they're still my parents and... I've never done well with disappointment and if they saw me now..."

"They would have to take a long look in the mirror and realise that you're where you are now because of them," Kurt finished for him. "You are incredible and they didn't see that. You were incredible then—I know you were—and you are incredible now. Your parents have a whole lot to answer for, Blaine and the only disappointment they should have is in themselves."

Blaine smiled and swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's just hard."

"I know, baby," Kurt said, shuffling closer and then pulling Blaine towards him, so that they were side by side. "I know you don't like to talk about it, but you can. Any time you want to. I'll always listen. But I promise you, you are not a disappointment, not to anybody. Anybody who has you in their life is so, so lucky."

"Thank you," he whispered and then silently, in his mind, I love you.

"I've been thinking," Blaine told Kurt over the phone a week later. "What do you think I should wear next week? I don't want to make a bad impression."

Kurt smiled. "You won't," he told him.

"I don't think I have anything that is appropriate for meeting your dad."

"Babe, my dad doesn't care what you wear," Kurt said. "But if you're really worried, I can help—"

"No."

"Alright," Kurt said, sitting back. "How about this? We're shooting a kind of music video for Vogue. You know, for the website? Rachel's coming in, I'm giving her an entire makeover—she really needs one. What if I added an extra person to the list?"

While Kurt and Rachel weren't exactly back to being BFFs, things had improved. Her rude comments had become less frequent. She didn't approve of anything, but she didn't say much on the topic, which was better than nothing.

Kurt could sense Blaine's negativity even over the phone.

"No, I couldn't take advantage of—"

"Take advantage?" Kurt asked, with a small chuckle. "Blaine, you would be helping me out. Menswear. We've got to include menswear. I get a discount, come on, help me out."

There was silence and then, "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"I'm saying that because it's true and because I want to give you a makeover—not because you need one! But because I think it would be fun. Say yes?"

Blaine sighed. "I don't know, Kurt. I could just go out every night this week and hopefully make enough to buy my own."

"People don't have the money for prostitutes right now, Blaine, it's almost Christmas. Take me up on my offer. I promise, we'll have a blast."

Blaine sighed again. He had been going out every night anyway, because he needed to make up the money to get Kurt a worthy Christmas gift. Sometimes, he didn't tell Kurt he was out and he felt guilty because of it, but if Kurt knew what he was doing to make up the money, Kurt would feel even guiltier, so Blaine figured it was the lesser of two evils.

"Please?" Kurt asked.

Another sigh, but this time, of defeat and then, "Okay, fine. But I don't want to keep whatever I wear. Can I do that? Can I borrow it and take it back?"

Kurt smiled, triumphantly. "So long as you don't get any suspicious stains on it, of course you can," he told him.

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," Blaine said and Kurt could hear him smiling.

"Not while my dad's around, no," he said, with a chuckle. "Is Friday good?"

"Friday," Blaine repeated, quietly. "Friday's kind of a...a busy night for me, Kurt."

Kurt nodded. "Okay," he said. "I guess that means Saturday is out."

Blaine made a small sound of affirmation.

"Tomorrow?" Kurt offered. "It needs to be after closing hours because I haven't told Isabelle about it yet."

"Is this a good idea?" Blaine asked, sounding uncertain.

"Trust me," Kurt said. "I know what I'm doing."

"Okay," Blaine replied, not sounding entirely convinced. "I'll call you tonight? It might be late."

"No, call me," Kurt said. "And..." He trailed off, contemplating whether or not he should say what he was thinking.

"And?" Blaine prompted.

"And you should text me and let me know where you are," he answered. "You know, when you get to the-the hotel, or wherever."

"Text you," Blaine repeated.

"Yeah," Kurt said, feeling stupid. "I mean, don't you think that's a good idea? It would be kind of like...checking in. I'd know where you were at all times, just in case anything happened." He paused, sensing Blaine's reluctance. "Blaine, you don't know what it's like for me when you're out there. I never know where you are and if you did need help, how would I get to you? We need to have some kind of-of set up. Something to keep you safe and my mind at ease."

Blaine didn't say anything and Kurt was left with his bottom lip caught between his teeth for too long. Kurt tried to be reasonable, tried not to crowd Blaine or make him feel pressured by Kurt's concern, but sometimes it was just so hard. He would spend sleepless nights just waiting for any kind of contact from Blaine, anything that would let him know he was okay and when he could, he stayed at Blaine's apartment so that he would be there when he returned. He always felt better when he could see Blaine, like his word wasn't enough, which was ridiculous, because he trusted Blaine, but a part of him knew that Blaine would try to protect him and sometimes, protecting him meant keeping details from him. He tried his best to be calm about it, to be strong for Blaine, to be okay with it all, but it was far from being an easy fete.

"Blaine?" he said, after a while.

"I'm here, sorry," Blaine said. "That's actually a really good idea. I hate that you're left worried while I go out. Do you think checking in with you would make you feel more relaxed about it?"

He spoke clearly and immediately, "Absolutely."

"Okay," Blaine said. "Then we'll do it. I'll text you later and I'll call you tonight."

"Alright," Kurt replied. He waited a moment and then added, "Stay safe."

Text Message Received at 12:37a.m.
From: Blaine.
Hey, you. I hope I didn't wake you, although I have a feeling you're still up. I'm at the Sunset Arms Motel, room 27. The guy seems kind of nervous, says he hasn't done this before, so it's nothing too crazy. Don't worry too much. Get some sleep, I'll call you in a couple of hours if you still want me to. Goodnight xx.

"Hello?"

"Hi," Kurt said. "So, I need a favour."

Blaine sat down on the couch and waited for him to go on.

"So, I left a bunch of my ideas at home," he said. "They're in notebooks, sketch pads, that kind of thing. Rachel says she can't carry her own things and my boxes, which I don't believe for a minute, but she's being difficult and sometimes when she's being difficult it's best to give in, just for the sake of peace. Do you think you could stop by my place on your way here and help her? You don't have to if you don't want to, I'll totally understand—"

"Hey, no, of course I'll help," Blaine replied, sitting up. "I'll leave right now."

"Blaine," Kurt said, a little dreamily.

"Mmhmm?"

"You're a lifesaver," he said. "What would I do without you?"

Blaine smiled and stood up. "Trust me, if anyone's a lifesaver in this relationship, it's you." He grabbed his keys and opened the front door. "Text or call if you need anything else and don't worry. Everything will go amazingly. I know it."

"I hope so," Kurt said, sighing quietly. "Are you sure you don't mind walking with Rachel?"

Blaine didn't allow any pauses or room for uncertainty, before saying, "It's fine." Despite this, he wasn't entirely comfortable with being near Rachel, because she made him feel worse about holding Kurt back, about being with him when he could do so, so much better, but Kurt needed him and when Kurt needed him, he would be there. He would endure Rachel for Kurt.

He locked the door, before making his way down the hall. "What's her coffee order?"

"Um, a soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte."

"Wow," Blaine uttered. "That's..."

"Yeah," Kurt said, chuckling. "I'll pay you back if you're going to buy her coffee—"

"It's fine, I can afford coffee," Blaine assured his boyfriend. "Can you repeat that again?"

"Sure, a soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte."

"Soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte," Blaine said carefully, before changing the subject. "So, has everyone left the building?" He slipped out the main door and turned to walk down the street.

"Just about," Kurt said. "Come up to my office when you get here, okay? I told security you're coming."

"Great," Blaine said.

"Okay," Kurt said. "Thank you. Again."

"It's nothing," Blaine told him. "I'll see you in a little while."

Rachel opened the door to her and Kurt's apartment a few moments after Blaine rapped on it. She was wearing a short, black dress and too much eyeliner. Her hair was poker straight as far as her shoulders and then curled towards the ends. She pushed it behind her ear before giving Blaine a nod.

"Blaine," she said, voice low and characterless.

"Hi," he answered. "Um, I got you this." He held out the paper cup. She eyed it suspiciously before looking back up at Blaine. "Soy vanilla Rooibos tea latte, right?"

She nodded, before taking it from him. "Thank you." She turned around and walked inside, so Blaine followed. "I packed all of Kurt's things into that suitcase," she said, pointing at a medium sized pink and lime-green suitcase by the sofa. "Can you get that?"

Blaine nodded. "Not a problem."

"Good," she said, before slipping out the door, another suitcase behind her. "Let's go."

She locked up and Blaine followed her down the hall to the elevator, which they rode down together in a painfully awkward silence. They left the building and walked to the end of the street in more silence, until they stopped to wait for the lights to change, which was when Rachel spoke.

"Thank you," she said. "For the tea latte."

"That's okay," Blaine told her.

"And for helping me," she added. "I realise we may not have seen eye to eye in the past and I still struggle to see how on earth Kurt thinks this is a good idea, but he is my best friend and he does seem to like you a lot. So, for Kurt's sake, let's be civil."

Blaine gave her a smile. "I'd like that," he said. "Kurt would, too."

Rachel watched him and then finally, her lips twitched up into a smile. The man turned green and they crossed the road.

The harmony between the three didn't last for long, but thankfully, Kurt did manage to get Rachel singing in a dusty pink ballgown and also in a classy black and white dress while she and Kurt sang a mash-up of 'Happy Days Are Here Again' and 'Get Happy'. Blaine had been blown away by her voice (and by Kurt's, but he often heard Kurt sing) and she seemed to have taken a shine to him after he had expressed his awe at her talent, but when Kurt had tried to get Rachel and Blaine in a shot together she had refused. Kurt knew that it had more to do with her wanting to hog the limelight than her not wanting to be videoed with a prostitute, which was the apparent reason for her refusal. Kurt was furious, she was being ridiculous for no reason whatsoever.

"Rachel, stop being such a drama queen!" Kurt said, folding his arms.

Rachel huffed and folded her arms, too. "This is unacceptable."

"Then leave!" Kurt snapped.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

She looked as if she was going to cry, before turning her nose up and spinning around. She exited the room dramatically, leaving Kurt and Blaine alone. Kurt sighed and sat down beside his boyfriend.

"Sorry," Blaine whispered.

Kurt looked up. "Sorry?" he asked. "Why are you apologising? It's not your fault she's being psychotic."

"I wanted this to go well for you," Blaine said, with a sigh.

"Blaine," Kurt said. "This is not your fault. Besides, I got enough footage of her. It's your turn."

Blaine shook his head. "I think maybe I'll just head home—"

"Aw, come on, baby," Kurt said, frowning. "I need some menswear shots. Besides, you look so handsome in that suit. It'd be a shame not to get footage."

Blaine gave him a weak smile. "You could do it," he suggested. "I'll play cameraman."

"No, come on, sing something for me."

"Kurt."

"Please?"

Blaine sighed. "It's been a long time."

The last time Blaine had sang had been the day he had left Ohio. Thinking about that day made him uneasy, shook him until he was unable to think straight. He shook his head and concentrated on his breathing.

Kurt stood and reached out a hand. Blaine took it without hesitation and allowed him to tug him gently across the room to a piano. Kurt sat down and Blaine slid in next to him.

"I'll play," Kurt said.

"I can play," Blaine told him before he could stop himself.

Kurt blinked at him. "I didn't know that."

Blaine shrugged. Breathing, he reminded himself. "It never came up."

Kurt nodded. "Okay," he said. "You play something for me."

Blaine hesitated, then nodded and looked down at the ivory keys. He ran his fingers across the tops very gently, but didn't press down, not yet.

"Okay," he repeated, voice shaky. "This song is from...maybe 2010? Um, I hope I can remember it right, but we sang it in the Warblers. We were going to do it for Regionals, but..." He shrugged. "Um, you're probably the only person I would sing in front of right now, because it's just...it's been so long and I don't even know if I still can sing."

"You never, ever sing? Not even in the shower?"

Kurt's eyes were sad, filled with pity. Blaine looked away because he didn't want to see pity there. Not ever. He shook his head. "There's not much to sing about. There hasn't been. Not up until recently." He gave Kurt a shy smile. "Um, this is one of my favourite songs. It's...it's silly, really, but it is. I-I hope it's okay."

Kurt watched as Blaine looked back down at the keys, eyes wide and glassy. He took a deep breath and then pressed down on a few keys. He started off nervous, stopping sometimes, but it didn't take long for him to find his stride. Kurt didn't recognise it right away, but the music was haunting and beautiful and Blaine, despite his nerves, looked right at home.

He opened his mouth and started to sing.

"You think I'm pretty without any makeup on..."

Kurt smiled, remembering the song. He hadn't been a huge fan, but this rendition was nothing like the fast paced original. Blaine was shaking, but he didn't stop. His voice wavered and his eyes were filled with emotion and several times, Kurt wondered if he was going to cry. When he reached the chorus, he seemed completely and utterly lost in the music, eyes closed, body moving and Kurt felt the warmth of salty tears streaking his own cheeks.

Blaine could feel himself breaking from the inside out, but at the same time, it was like flying, breaking away from everything that was and everything he had become. It was like being back at school, like being a kid again. Despite feeling as if he was apart from his own body, he was totally aware of Kurt sitting next to him, their legs pressed together.

He knew his voice was shaky, that it could have been a million times better and it was funny, because when he had been younger he had been a perfectionist. Some days he would exhaust himself trying to reach whatever level of perfection he felt it was necessary to reach. Now, it didn't matter. It had been so long and it felt like he was releasing something, like a rabble of encased butterflies had finally been set free from their confinement. It was as if he hadn't even been aware of the vault inside of himself, the one that kept him rigid and steely and still and hidden, even from himself. He closed his eyes and let it free, everything inside of him. It was like being lifted off the ground, shivers racking his entire body.

The ending was frantic, loud, broken and breathless and his voice shattered on the very last line. He stopped playing, fingers curling back, sweaty and tired and he opened his eyes slowly, the world coming back into focus. He could hear himself breathing, breaths coming fast and shallow. He twisted himself around to look at his boyfriend, heart hammering loudly beneath his rib cage and he saw the fresh tears in Kurt's eyes, the clouded blue-grey-green of his irises, the shining red swell of his parted lips.

They watched one another for a long time and then Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came, nothing but a quivering breath and then Kurt was kissing him. It was sudden and he hadn't seen it coming, but he kissed him back, relaxed himself against the warmth of his body and held on tight, held on like he would break if he let go. Kurt kept him close in the circle of his arms, their lips moving slowly, short breaths in between long sighs and moans. It was intimate in a way that was not sexual and Blaine closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel and it was as if his heart was shattering and mending over and over inside his chest, but it felt right. Something about it all felt so right.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered once they had broken apart.

Kurt looked surprised and then emitted a shaky laugh. "You're just so... You're incredible and that was... Blaine, you're so talented."

Blaine gave him a small smile. "It was shaky."

"It was breathtaking," Kurt argued. "You're breathtaking."

Blaine reached up and wiped at his own eyes.

"You just deserve so much, Blaine," Kurt went on. "You deserve so many good things and I wish things had gone differently for you. I wish they had gone right. I just wish you could have done something with the talents that you have."

I love you, Blaine wanted to say, I love you, I love you, I love you. The words wouldn't come.

Instead, he said, "I used to be better."

"You're amazing," Kurt said. "Did you want to pursue music? When you left school? Was that the plan?"

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Definitely something to do with performing," he told him. "That dream was always too far away for me. I was a dreamer back then, when I was younger, but when people tell you your dreams are stupid and unrealistic, they tend to shatter and lose their magic. I gave up on it all a long time ago.

"When I first got here, I thought about it, about getting a job singing somewhere, but the only places hiring are bars and clubs and I'm underage. They wouldn't hire me. I have no credentials, no experience. Plus, I left my piano behind," he said, allowing his fingers to brush the keys once again. "I... It's the one thing I missed most after I left. I loved to play. I liked dabbling in my own tunes, you know? I was sort of a perfectionist," he said, cheeks colouring. "I would spend hours trying to get it right. It was... I loved it. It was the one thing I really, really loved. When things got bad, I would play. I'd sing and I'd play and it...it took the edge off sometimes. Not always, because things were really bad sometimes, but...most of the time it helped. When I got here, at the beginning? I would have given anything to have just a few minutes at a piano, or keyboard, or whatever, just to feel like me again. I don't know who I am any more, Kurt, but today, I felt like...like the old Blaine. Like someone I didn't mind being. It was...nice."

Kurt gave him a wobbly smile. "You can use our keyboard any time you want," he said. "It's in Rachel's room because she does scales every morning, but I'm going to move it and you can just play it whenever you want to play it. In fact, it would be a pleasure to watch you play." He reached out and curled their fingers together. "And as for not knowing who you are, well, I can help you with that. You're Blaine. You're kind and caring and beautiful and you always put others before yourself. You're compassionate and so unbelievably talented and you're the best boyfriend a guy like me could ever ask for.

"You've got cute little quirks that are unique, just to you. You talk in your sleep and you're always so enthusiastic about everything and you're always smiling, even when I know you're scarred on the inside. You can never get the lid of your coffee cup back on and sometimes, I almost reach out to help you, but you look so caught up in it, so deep in concentration, that I can't make myself do it. You love cookery shows, but you never cook, you just like to watch and see the finished product at the end of it all. You're a total gentleman. You always hold doors and say please and thank you and you like kids, because sometimes, if we're out together and there's a baby crying, you don't get mad or frustrated like I do, you smile and act like it doesn't even bother you."

You deal with me when I'm being difficult and you always kiss me like you mean it. When you smile, it makes me feel like my heart is going to-to just burst out of my chest and I can't help smiling, too. You've got the most expressive eyes. I've never seen eyes like yours before. I can never quite find the right words to describe them. Hazel seems too ordinary, gold seems too false. But they're incredible.

"I know they tell you sometimes, that you're gorgeous and that you're hot and that's all completely true. You are all those things, but Blaine, you've heard those words so many times that I don't think you even know how true they are. They've just become words to you, because you don't even react to them. You are beautiful. You are so, so beautiful. Everything about you. Every last hair on your head. Every last freckle on your skin. Everything about you, even the scars, they're all part of who you are. All part of what makes you Blaine. All equally and uniquely beautiful." He reached out and squeezed Blaine's hand gently. "Everything about you is perfect to me, Blaine. Everything."

Blaine let out a choked laugh that bubbled from somewhere deep within him and took Kurt's hand in both of his. "That song," he said. "Maybe it's cheesy, but... I never had anything like that. Like what they describe in the song, but...with you, it's kind of like-like I understand it more. There isn't a lot to understand, it's just a bubbly pop song, but...having you in my life makes me understand what it feels like to want to run away with another person. Does that...does it make sense?"

Kurt smiled. "Kind of."

"It's kind of like...like you're my teenage dream. Like you're the person I dreamed about having in my life when I was younger and things weren't going well." He shrugged and looked down at his knees. "It's stupid."

Kurt shook his head. "It's not stupid," he swore. "You know, all my life I've felt different, like I would never, ever meet anyone like me and I haven't, not really and my dad would tell me that was a good thing, but sometimes I was terrified that maybe it wasn't a good thing, because what if no one ever wanted to be with someone like me? I had friends, eventually, when I got into glee, but...there was never anyone that really, really understood. My dad tried and I was close with Mercedes and then Rachel, but there was nobody like me, nobody who got it. And when the bullying got worse, it was like I was completely alone. My friends stood up for me and so did my dad and Finn, kind of, but I never showed them how much it got to me. I never let them see that it was breaking me down and I pushed through it. I got out, but it would have helped to have had someone, or even to have had the knowledge that there was someone else out there who was going through or had gone through the same things I was. That someone would want me some day, as more than just a friend, because up until I left Ohio, nobody I ever crushed on ever even glanced in my direction.

"And then I came here and people were looking at me and it felt good, until I started dating. No matter how handsome these guys were, or how much of the same things we liked, none of them ever felt right and I started to think it was me. I started to wonder if maybe nobody would ever want me. And then I started to see you and it wasn't a conscious thing at first. I saw you here and there and it was kind of a 'oh, look, it's that cute guy again' thought process each time and then you were everywhere and I would find myself thinking about you throughout my day, wondering where you were, what you were doing. Who you were, mostly. I wanted to know you." He smiled. "I wanted you to know me. But it was almost like you were this...this fantasy I allowed myself to have. Like you were this figment of my imagination that would disappear if I made any moves to talk to you. It was like I was terrified that all the things I imagined you being and doing would crash and burn when reality struck. I was terrified of being disappointed."

"And were you?" Blaine asked, very quietly. "I mean, you couldn't have imagined me being any of the things that I am."

Kurt laughed. "Oh, Blaine," he said. "You're so much more than anything I could ever be capable of making up."

Blaine gave him a broken smile, head tilting sideways, tears threatening to spring free from his eyes.

"I could never be disappointed in you, Blaine," Kurt continued. "You make me happier than I ever believed I could be. It's kind of like coming here is everything I wanted and more. I've got the city, I've got the job and I've got the guy."

"And you'll have NYADA, too," Blaine added. "I know you will."

"Well, fingers crossed," Kurt said. "Those letters should be coming soon," he went on, looking down nervously.

"You're in," Blaine told him. "I know it. They're not going to let you slip away a second time."

"I hope not," Kurt replied. "And thank you for believing in me."

"Always," Blaine said. "You believe in me and that's not an easy thing to do."

"Of course it is," Kurt argued.

"It isn't," Blaine insisted. "But you do it anyway and that's what makes you special, Kurt. Do you know how many guys would have run far, far away the moment they found out what I do? It's a pretty big number. You..." He shook his head, trying to grasp the words. "I know it isn't easy and you worry and you struggle with it sometimes, even though you try to hide the fact that you're struggling from me, but you've never given up on me and that's more than anyone else has ever done. You're determined and you don't give up and that's why I know you're going to get everything you want and deserve in life." He sat up straight and tightened his grip on Kurt's hand again. "You... You move me, Kurt and some day, the whole world is going to be moved by you and, well, even though I'm not sure how high the probability of this is, I hope I'm there with you to see it."

"Blaine—"

"Let's not get into it, okay?" Blaine said, smiling. "Let's just enjoy the rest of the night."

Kurt nodded. "I want that, too, just so you know," he said. "For you to be there with me and for you to be living out your own dreams. Because I know it's been tough, but you'll get there. I know you will."

Blaine shrugged, not remotely convinced. "Maybe," he said anyway. "Do you want to stay the night with me?" he enquired, changing the subject.

Kurt nodded instantly. "I would love that," he said standing up. He reached out for Blaine's hand and pulled him to his feet. "I'll leave all this stuff until tomorrow," he said, gesturing at the cameras and dresses. "Let's just go."

Blaine nodded, seeing the glint in his eye and they walked towards the door. Kurt switched the light out, leaving them in complete darkness, but for the dim, flickering hallway light outside. Whispering quietly to one another, they took the elevator down to the ground floor, before slipping out the entrance door and making their way down the street in the direction of Blaine's apartment. However, when they reached the corner, Kurt's phone started to buzz and he pulled it out of his pocket quickly, face twisting with worry. It was late and Blaine knew he was concerned for the health of his father.

Blaine tightened the grip on his hand and watched as he opened the message, fingers fumbling. Finally, the message appeared and it was from Rachel. It was written all in capital letters.

From Rachel:
KURT, COME HOME A.S.A.P! IT'S AN EMERGENCY! HURRY!

Kurt looked at Blaine, face twisting in confusion. "I need to go," he told him.

"I'm coming with you," Blaine said and when Kurt opened his mouth to protest, he went on, "Don't even bother, I'm coming. Come on."

Blaine started tugging Kurt further down the street, while Kurt tried to call Rachel.

"She's not picking up," he said, worriedly. "If it was my dad Carole would have called me, right?"

"Definitely," Blaine agreed.

"Why would Rachel know before me?"

"She wouldn't," Blaine assured him.

"Oh, God," Kurt said, then. "What if Finn told her? What if he forgot to call me? That is totally something Finn would do, I am going to kill him."

"Kurt, calm down," Blaine said, softly. "We don't even know that it has anything to do with your dad. You said Rachel is prone to overreacting, right?"

"Well, yeah," Kurt answered.

"Then don't get crazy until we know for sure," he said. "Maybe she just broke a nail or something."

"If that's all it is, I'm going to kill her," he said.

Blaine smiled. "It'll be okay."

"What if it isn't?" Kurt asked, quietly. "What if something awful has happened? Oh, God, Blaine, what if—"

"Kurt."

"You shouldn't have to deal with this. I should tell you to go home, but I need you. I need you if it is something really awful, but you shouldn't have to deal with that—"

"Kurt," he said again. "It's okay. Trust me, I have experience with the really awful. It's okay."

A look of horror fell over Kurt's face. "Oh, my God, Blaine, I didn't mean—"

Kurt stopped talking then because Blaine stopped and silenced him with a kiss. They stood there like that, in the empty street for another few moments, just kissing beneath the light of the moon and the dim lighting of the street lamps and Blaine felt as if he could feel Kurt's fast beating heart against his body. Finally, he pulled back, knowing they needed to get going.

"Stop freaking out," he whispered against Kurt's lips. He kissed them gently, briefly. "Alright?" Kurt nodded. "We don't know what it is yet. Don't stress yourself out until we do." He kissed him once more. "I want to be here for you, no matter what. Are you ready to go?" Kurt nodded again. "Okay," Blaine said, taking a step backwards and linking his fingers with Kurt's again. "Let's go."

They continued down the street in silence, Kurt's fingers sweating against his, but he kept a tight grip on them. Finally, when they were almost there, Kurt spoke.

"Thank you," he said. "For keeping me together. I go to pieces in a crisis." He laughed heartlessly. "Clearly."

"I'm sure she would have called if it was anything serious," Blaine said, squeezing his hand again.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologise," Blaine told him. "You're entitled to worry."

"Distract me," Kurt said. "Just...tell me about...about anything. Please."

Blaine nodded and tried to think of something quickly. "Um, did I ever tell you about the time my dad and I built a car together?"

He knew he hadn't told Kurt that story, because he hadn't told Kurt very much about his past in Ohio.

"No," was all Kurt said anyway.

"He made out like it was some kind of bonding experience," Blaine told him, "but I knew it was more about him trying to turn me straight. I was probably about fifteen, so things had been...difficult. I hadn't been out for very long and..." He trailed off and shook his head. "Anyway, we spent weeks building this car and my dad would-would drop these hints about, you know, girls and stuff. Like, it was never anything crazy. He wouldn't try to tell me girls were, I don't know, hot or anything, but he'd maybe say his friend's daughter was my age, stuff like that and at the beginning, I felt like I had to constantly remind him I was gay, but after a while, it seemed kind of pointless. He wasn't listening to me and I was wasting my breath, so I gave up and one day, my brother got home—"

"You have a brother?"

Blaine blinked. "Um, yeah," he said. "I never told you that?"

Kurt shook his head.

"I guess I haven't told you very much," he said, looking down. "I'll work at that."

"It's okay, keep going."

Blaine nodded. "So, Cooper got back from L.A.—he was doing auditions out there—and he walked out while my dad and I were working on the car and my dad was hinting again and Cooper just stopped and looked at the car and then turned to me and said, 'nice work, squirt. When you get your permit and start driving this, you're going to have your pick of cute guys. And you'll have your old man to thank for having such a super great idea!' and then he just grinned and walked on. It was... It meant a lot to me. I know he was mostly kidding, but when he was around, Cooper always stood up for me when my parents were being...stubborn, I guess. He always knew exactly how to handle things."

Kurt didn't say anything for a few moments and they walked on in comfortable silence for a short while. Then, Kurt spoke.

"Do you miss him? Your brother?"

Blaine shrugged. "He was never really around. He moved out to L.A. and he only came home for holidays or birthdays, sometimes, but, in a way, I guess I kind of do miss him. There's an eight year age gap between us, so sometimes, there was kind of a disconnect. He's obnoxious and self-centred and ridiculous, but...he's my brother and-and he tried when no one else did. And that meant a lot."

Kurt gave his hand a squeeze. "You should call him."

Blaine shook his head. "I can't do that," he said. "That part of my life is behind me, I just want to concentrate on the now."

Kurt didn't argue. "Of course," he said. "But if you ever want to talk..."

"I know," Blaine replied. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said. "It's probably not safe walking around here this late at night."

Blaine gave him a wobbly smile. "It's okay. I do it all the time."

"Blaine—" He stopped then because they had reached Kurt's building. "We should go up."

Blaine nodded. "It'll be okay."

Kurt let out a shaky breath and pulled the door open. The slipped inside and took the elevator up and when they got there, they walked quickly down the hall until they reached Kurt and Rachel's apartment. Kurt fumbled with his key in the lock and finally, got it open. He pushed it and he and Blaine went inside to find Rachel, a girl Blaine didn't recognise and a guy he thought looked familiar.

The girl had glossy, dark hair which fell past her shoulders and when she swung around, Blaine saw that she had dark features, too. Her eyes fell down to Kurt and Blaine's linked fingers and a slow smile crept over her face.

"Well, well, well," she said, hand on her hips. "Berry never told me you got yourself a boyfriend, Hummel."

Kurt seemed to be having some kind of silent conversation with Rachel, made up entirely of meaningful glares. Blaine took it upon himself to stick out a hand.

"I'm Blaine," he said. "Blaine Anderson."

The girl, still smiling, accepted his hand shake. "Santana Lopez," she said. "Kurt's newest roomie."

"Kurt's newest what?" Kurt asked quickly.

"Oh, Hummel," Santana said, blinking rapidly. "I knew you would be so happy to see me. That's why I brought you a peace offering." Her eyes flickered to Blaine. "Although, I guess now you won't have much use for it if you and the hobbit here are getting down and dirty." She went to turn around, but Kurt spoke before she could.

"Whatever weird, freaky, sex toy you have, I don't want to know," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"My mom gave me money to go to New York," she explained. "I thought about getting a hotel, just until I could find a place and then I remembered. I thought, oh, my good friends Hummel and Berry are out here and I bet they would just love to see a familiar face in a sea of strangers in a big, crazy city. I gotta say, this isn't the welcome I was expecting." She folded her arms slowly and the grin fell off her face and was replaced with a glare. "I mean, you even brought your boyfriends to gang up on me."

Rachel took a step forward. "Kurt and I did not bring Brody and Blaine to gang up on you, Santana. Brody was already here. And Blaine-well, Blaine—"

"Blaine came with me because somebody told me there was some huge emergency," Kurt said, glaring at Rachel still.

Rachel opened her mouth to protest but Santana spoke over her. "Oh, come on. What was all that crap about family and always loving each other back at McKinley? If you were my family and if you loved me, you would have absolutely no problem with letting me stay. It's not like I'm going to infringe on your sexy times with these clowns—"

"Santana!" Rachel said, astonished, while Kurt just cursed under his breath.

"Santana, I think you should leave," the guy—Brody—said.

Santana's head jolted around and she looked him slowly from head to toe and back again. "Excuse me, but who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Rachel's..." his sentence faded and he looked to Rachel for help, which she did not provide.

"Exactly," Santana said, giving him a too-sweet smile. "You're Rachel's. So until Rachel—and, or Kurt—insist that I leave, you should stay out of it."

"Did you just get here?" Kurt asked.

"Fresh off the airplane from lovely Lima."

Kurt sighed. "This isn't going to work out." He shook his head. "We don't have enough space."

"She doesn't have anywhere else to go," Blaine said, looking at his boyfriend. "You could stay with me tonight and Santana could—"

"And what happens tomorrow night? Or the night after?"

"I was just trying to help," Blaine said shrugging.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know," Kurt said, squeezing his fingers.

"She could stay with me," Blaine suggested.

All eyes went to him, then.

"Blaine—"

"I don't mind if nobody else does," Blaine said. He looked at Kurt again. "I mean, we'll have to tell her..."

"Tell me what?" she asked. She smiled again. "Don't tell me Hummel's got a boyfriend who's a secret drug runner, or—"

"Stop!" Kurt said, loudly. "Santana, just... You can stay here, okay? We'll-I'll-the spare room. I'll clear it out, but you've got to help me and you can stay there. Blaine doesn't have the space."

"I'll help, too," Blaine added.

Rachel looked panicked and turned her gaze on Brody and said, "It's getting late, I should walk Brody out. Could I stay with you tonight, babe?"

Kurt grimaced and so did Santana.

"Of course you can, babe," Brody replied and Santana made a gagging motion.

Rachel made a small squeal of joy and then leaned up and pecked him on the lips. "I'll just go and get my toothbrush." She bounced away then.

"Come on, Santana," Kurt said, sounding tired. "I'll show you the room."

Blaine stood there awkwardly, wondering if he should follow or hang back while Kurt and Santana talked privately. Brody seemed to be experiencing the same sense of awkwardness, if the way he was looking around nervously was any indication. Blaine decided to make conversation, just to fill the silence and also because he wanted to know.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"Uh, I doubt it, man," Brody said, looking in the direction of Rachel's bedroom.

"You just look...really familiar," he told him.

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," Brody replied followed by nervous laughter, which made Blaine wonder if they did know each other from somewhere. He was attractive in a traditional way, a little like the guys in movies who seduced the girl, before turning out to be a total pig. He was attractive in a way that didn't exactly make him stand out, because it was generic, too obvious, not like Kurt; Kurt was a classic kind of beautiful, he was elegant and poised and striking. Brody was tanned and muscled and all angles, while Kurt was smooth curves and soft lines. Kurt was memorable, Brody wasn't and if he had been someone Blaine had...spent time with while working, he probably wouldn't have remembered him, so it might have been that. Still, there was something about him, something that linked to a different part of Blaine's brain, something he couldn't quite place. However, before he could ask anything more, Kurt appeared and beckoned him into the spare room and so, he went, giving Brody a nod on his way.

Once inside, Kurt shut the door firmly behind them. He sat down on the ledge of the window.

"Are you staying over?" he asked Blaine.

"You're going to send him out in New York City at this time of night?" Santana demanded to know. "Alone?"

Kurt looked frustrated. "I'm not sending him anywhere, Santana," he said. He looked at Blaine again and spoke, voice softer now. "You should stay."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't want to overcrowd you—"

"You wouldn't be."

"Hummel wants you in his bed," Santana sang, smirk on her face.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Stay," he said. "It's safer."

"I'll be fine out there. You know I will."

"I know, I know, but..."

There was a plea in Kurt's eyes. It was small, barely noticeable, but sharp, like a paper cut you didn't remember getting.

"I'll stay," Blaine said. "If that's okay."

"Of course it's—"

"Holy crap. This conversation is pathetic," Santana said, walking across the room. "Quit being mushy and help me with my crap."

She strolled out of the room to grab her bags and Blaine looked at Kurt, eyebrow raised.

"Don't ask," he said, tiredly.

Blaine couldn't tell if Kurt liked her or not, couldn't tell if she was a friend or a mere acquaintance.

"Is she...?" he tried to ask.

"She's... Well. You'll see. Let's go before she pulls out the real insults."

Kurt woke up to the distant sound of something smashing followed by a groan in the dark. He sat up, heart hammering and remembered Santana was there and it was more than likely her making the noise. He looked down at Blaine next to him in the bed. He was sound asleep, lips parted, small humming sounds escaping his body rhythmically. Kurt smiled and pulled himself up carefully, trying not to wake him. He dressed and then crept out of the room and into the main part of the apartment, which was the living room space.

A dim, blinding light lit the kitchen area and a dark figure stood in the middle, bent over by the open door of the refrigerator. He could hear the quiet swear words and as he got closer, the figure darted upright. Kurt hit the lightswitch and the light bled in.

"Oh, it's you," Santana said, hair hanging messily around her face. She was holding parts of what had been a glass.

"Yeah, it's me," Kurt said. "I do live here."

Santana only rolled her eyes, before closing the refrigerator door and flinging the broken glass into the trash. Kurt grabbed the dustpan and brush and got to his knees to retrieve any rogue pieces. Santana watched him and then sat down at the small kitchen table, where she had left a full glass of orange juice. Kurt went to sit with her.

"So," she began, "Berry's changed."

"I guess."

"You guess? First of all, she looks like a slut—"
"Santana," Kurt half-warned, only half because he was too tired to argue.

"—and who is that tool she's fucki—"

"Brody," Kurt said quickly. "He's called Brody."

"He looks plastic and from what I gathered today, he has a plastic, little, mouse brain underneath all that sun-kissed hair."

Kurt only shrugged, unable to find it in himself to defend the guy.

"You've changed, too, you know."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Santana," he answered sarcastically.

"Not in the same way Rachel has," she said. "I mean, you look...more sophisticated. Hmm. Happier." She smiled.

"I am happier."

"Because of him?"

Kurt shrugged again. "He's a huge part of it."

"He's a huge nothing, he's tiny." She smirked then. "Unless you're talking under the pants, in which case—"

"Everything isn't about sex, Santana."

"But you are getting some," she said and when the blush crept over his cheeks, she grinned. "Thought so. So, how'd it go? Two, sad, little, virgin gays finding one another in a huge city, yet still, in the middle of all that hustle and bustle, eyes met, before tongues and then—"

"Santana!"

"—pretty soon, they were giving each other their precious flowers—"

"That is disgusting—"

"But totally true, right?"

Kurt closed his eyes and shook his head. "Blaine wasn't..."

Her eyes went wide with interest. "Your pretty pony's ass was already—"

"Do you have to be so—"

"Hey, I'm just asking." She held her hands up, as if in defence. "So, what's his story?"

Kurt wavered and then remembered how Blaine had reacted when he had failed to tell Rachel what he did for a living.

"Blaine's..." he started, uncertain. "Blaine's had it hard. He's had a lot of fighting to do. He's still fighting, every single day." He paused, breathed. "He ran away almost two years ago and..."

"And?" Santana prompted.

"And he's had to do a lot of things he isn't proud of. He still does."

Santana was watching him, dark eyes intent, but with a splash of confusion behind them. "What are you talking about?" she asked, finally.

"Blaine's a prostitute," he said a little more frantically than he would have preferred. "He... Blaine, he-he didn't think there was any other option and he hates it, but...I don't think he knows anything else any more."

Santana's reaction surprised him. There was no all-out laughter, no crude jokes or cruel insults. She simply sat there, expression solemn.

"Rachel, she thinks I'm insane. She treats him like he's some sort of-of disease. My dad thinks I'm with him because I pity him. Carole thinks I'm getting myself too far into something I don't understand. Finn...I don't even know what Finn thinks—"

"And what do you think?" she asked.

Kurt couldn't read her expression. "It is not pity. And, you know, most of the time I'm not sure what I'm doing and I spend a significant amount of time terrified that I'll handle things in the wrong way, but I think that would be the case in any relationship. I know it's different, I know that, but he's the one, Santana. I know it. It's corny and it's unrealistic, but it's true and I would be right by his side no matter what.

"Nobody else gets that. Everyone thinks I'm being irresponsible, or that I'm getting myself into things I can't handle, but they don't know what it's like. They don't know him and they—well, Rachel—she doesn't even want to know him, she won't even try, even though I put up with her idiot...not-boyfriend roaming around half-naked all the damn time. It's just...it's hard."

"Sounds kind of like you are in deeper than you can handle."

Kurt looked up at her. "Maybe, but I wouldn't change that, not for anything. I'm handling it as best as I know how. He—I didn't choose this, Santana. I didn't choose to fall for someone everyone thinks of as an 'undesirable', but if I had it back, that first day, I would still go right up to him and introduce myself. Just..." He paused. "Before you make assumptions about him, get to know him. Don't...don't judge him because of what he's had to do."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Trust me, Hummel, I am the last person who would judge someone on the impact life has had on them."

Kurt watched her, eyebrows knitted.

"I am from Lima Heights Adjacent, remember. People think that because of my Goddamned address, I'm going to take out a blade and demand they empty their pockets. I'm also a lesbian and we both know the stereotypes that come along with that."

Kurt gave her a small smile. "So you think you can be civil with him?"

"Hummel, please. Do you know anyone more civil than me?" She was smiling.

Kurt chuckled and stood up. "Goodnight, Santana," he said. "And thanks."

"No problem," she told him, sitting back comfortably. "I have a feeling this is going to be a great set-up. We've got the whole of Christmas to get to know each other again."

Kurt stopped still. "We've got the whole of what?"