Chapter 11:

Blaine sighed silently at the loud noises coming from the people he sat with at lunch. He was next to Puck, who was laughing at something Azimio was saying. Karofsky was scowling at him from across the table, which he ignored and everyone was just being unnecessarily loud. Lately, the footballers and cheerleaders he sat with were driving him crazy. He wanted to lean across and smack Puck in the head, because he was laughing far too boisterously. He wanted to punch Karofsky again simply because he was an ass and he wanted to tell that red headed cheerleader—what was her name again?—to stop playing dumb, just so that she could gain attention.

He glanced across the room at the glee table. They were talking quietly, some of them laughing. It was really amazing that the members of the one club that spent all their time singing and dancing and performing were so quiet and refined. Kurt was sitting there, next to Mercedes, smiling slightly, his pale lips upturned at the corners, his luminous eyes glancing up from his lunch as Mercedes spoke. He blinked and his light lashes fluttered slowly down into the hollows beneath his eyes, then back up again.

Blaine liked to watch Kurt when he didn't know he was watching him. He was absently running a thin finger along his jaw line, his elbow rested on the table. He looked like he didn't belong there, amongst the trash cans and the cleaning ladies and the pale, sickly green walls. He stood out a mile sitting there, in his white, long-sleeved shirt and his hair so perfectly styled and his skin so smooth and on the verge of transparency.

The words of the song struck Blaine not for the first time that day.

"I want to take you far from the cynics in this town and kiss you on the mouth."

Regardless of what he knew he did or didn't feel when it came to Kurt, he could concede that Kurt didn't belong here, in this drab, narrow-minded town, full of ignoramuses and uneducated assholes. Kurt had told him that first day that he was going to make something of himself and Blaine believed that now. When it came down to the cold, hard facts, Kurt was better than all of them, even, Blaine had to admit, better than Blaine himself.

Kurt looked up just as Blaine thought this and the feeling that he'd been caught doing something wrong struck him almost instantly, his heart leaping in his chest, mouth parting, eyes widening. But Kurt simply smiled, his glistening eyes lighting up and acknowledging Blaine. Blaine returned his smile, because when Kurt smiled at him, there were only two things he could do that were appropriate as a response. The first of these was to cover that smile with his lips and since they were in a crowded lunch room, not to mention at least fifteen feet apart, Blaine had to go with the second option, which was to smile back.

Kissing Kurt wasn't something he really thought about any more. Actually, that was a lie. He seemed to think about it quite a bit, but he didn't think about it in the sense that it ate away at him, because it was wrong and went against everything that he was. Nowadays, it was just something that was, something he just did, almost daily, because it felt good, even if it didn't make sense.

Kurt looked away, glancing back only once, before turning his attention back to Mercedes.

"Hey!"

Blaine almost jumped out of his seat. Quinn slipped onto the bench next to him and followed his gaze, just as Kurt glanced across, then quickly looked away. Quinn's lipglossed smile faded and she was frowning. Then she turned to look at Blaine and a grin replaced her frown.

"Guess what?" she enthused.

"Um, what?" Blaine asked, eyes falling down to study the fries on his tray. He couldn't even begin to guess.

"I'm joining glee club!"

Blaine's entire body went rigid and his head shot up too quickly, his neck twisting and aching instantly.

"You're doing what?" Blaine spluttered.

"I'm joining glee club!" Quinn repeated, smiling sweetly.

"You—you can't join glee club," Blaine shook his head, which was already spinning. "Sectionals is next week, Quinn."

"I know!" Quinn apprised him. "I already talked to Mr Schuester and he said I can start in January! Isn't that great? Now we'll be together all the time!"

"Terrific," Blaine deadpanned. "That's just.. terrific."

"Can Quinn even sing?" Kurt asked, when Blaine told him Quinn was joining glee club in January, over the phone. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, music playing quietly from his iPod speakers in the background.

"I have no idea," Blaine replied and he sounded distressed. "I can't go anywhere without her following me, I swear."

Kurt frowned. Blaine was such an idiot most of the time. He had brief non-idiot moments, but when it came to the crunch, he was the definition of an idiot.

"Why don't you tell her that?"

"Are you kidding me?" Blaine exploded and Kurt could almost see him raising his arms in protest and surprise. "I can't do that! I like my kneecaps where they are, thank you very much!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. Trust Blaine to over-dramatize things.

"Blaine, are you going to let her push you around forever?"

"That's the plan," Blaine muttered and Kurt was rolling his eyes again.

"Are you serious?" he asked. "You really plan on spending the rest of forever heeding to her every call?"

"Do I have any other option?"

Yes, Kurt thought, yes, you do, but he didn't say it out loud, because that would lead to a very awkward silence, followed by a very awkward conversation and then awkward moment after awkward moment would continue to occur for the foreseeable future.

"Blaine, I don't think we—"

"Kurt, sorry, I'm gonna have to go," Blaine cut him off and Kurt could hear him sitting up. "My mom and dad are fighting again and.. well. I have to go, I don't know, do something, I guess."

Kurt wished he knew what to say to that, but he didn't.

"Alright," he answered. "See you at school."

They said their goodbyes and hung up soon after. Kurt had almost done it. He'd almost told Blaine that they couldn't do what they were doing any more, whatever it was. Quinn joining glee and hanging around Blaine all the time would drive him crazy and he wasn't sure he wanted to be part of that. Sure, he couldn't turn his feelings off in a blink of an eye, but at least if Blaine wasn't kissing him and letting little terms of endearment slip every now and then, it would be easier for him to handle it.

Kurt sighed and lay back against his pillows.

He would tell him tomorrow.

"What happened to your face?"

Blaine sighed, tiredly and turned his head away from his father, although there was no point now, he'd already seen it.

"Crashed into one of the guys at football," he said, quickly.

"Really."

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Hmm," his dad said, then he stood up and walked out of the room, without another word.

Blaine looked across at his mom on the sofa, her eyes closed, head on her shoulder. He sighed and went to the kitchen to clean the now broken plate his father had thrown at the wall. He swept the shards onto the dust pan and emptied it into the bin, before looking around at his home.

The plate wasn't the only thing in pieces.

The only time Kurt got to talk to Blaine at school the next day was during English and he couldn't very well tell him with everyone around like that. He decided he would do it later. He would call him, or ask if he wanted to drive somewhere, or something. Either way, it had to be done. If he didn't do it today, he probably wouldn't consider it again for a long time and getting himself in deeper was the last thing he needed right now.

He called Blaine four times that night and four times it went straight to voice mail. Maybe he was having issues with his parents, or maybe Quinn had forced him into doing something with her. He didn't want to think just what he might be doing with her, so he went to bed early and promised himself he would put things right the next day.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

He was dreaming, his mind caught in that void between reality and the subconscious. The world was a cloud of cotton candy and mist. His chest felt constricted and his brain was protesting, his body shifting, turning away from the vexatious

tap

tap

tap.

The taps shattered the humming and buzzing in his ear drums and blood rushed in his head.

Tap.

Tap tap.

Tap.

CRASH.

He slipped from his slumber and sprung up in his bed, his eyes blinking quickly, discarding the sleep from the corners. His heart was racing and his mind felt fuzzy and he didn't know what was going on.

He sat there in unmitigated silence for a couple of heartbeats, before reaching across to check the time on his phone. He clicked a button and the screen came to life, the bright light piercing his eyes momentarily and then he settled his gaze on the numbers on the screen.

2.07A.M., December 15th.

He didn't have time to think before the sound from his dream was sifting through the air once again.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Kurt turned to look in the direction from which the sound was coming and his eyes rested on the two small rectangular windows at the top of his left wall.

Someone was knocking.

Who on earth was knocking on his window at two o' clock in the morning? His initial thought was that someone was trying to break in, to go through the basement and ransack his house.

Kurt possessed many traits that likened him to a cat. For one, he was extremely flexible. Another thing was that he was also far too curious for his own good.

He climbed to his feet and went towards the window, aware of the taps still coming, but they were nowhere near as loud as the tapping sound of his heart in his ears. He gazed up at the window, in the light of the moon and stared for a long time, until he saw movement. He wasn't sure what made him do it, but he reached up and unlatched the lock and pulled the window towards him.

"Blaine?"

A set of warm, honey coloured eyes filled the small gap to the outside and Kurt looked up at the other boy quizzically.

"Hi," Blaine said, sounding a little breathless.

"Blaine, it's after 2 A.M.," Kurt hissed. "What are you doing? Are you drunk again?"

"No," Blaine replied and he didn't sound drunk. "Can you get dressed and come outside?"

"What?"

"Please?"

Kurt took a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Fine," he said, finally. "Give me 20 minutes—"

"20 minutes?" Blaine cut in. "Just put on some clothes and come outside."

"But my hair—"

"It's only me," Blaine chuckled and it struck Kurt that Blaine really had no idea how much he meant to him. "Come on, I'll wait by my car and if you're not out here in 5 minutes, I'll throw more pebbles."

"Fine," Kurt said, turning away. He glanced back at the window and Blaine was gone. Kurt sighed and went to his closet, pulling out jeans and a shirt. It was way too late for drastic fashion decisions. Why was Blaine doing this to him?

He got dressed and looked in the mirror, his face twisting upon seeing his hair, now sticking up in tufts and flat on the side he'd slept on. Kurt groaned as he took a comb and did his best with what little time he had. He sighed and laid the comb down, then snuck upstairs and out the front door, closing it slowly and quietly behind him.

Kurt walked cautiously to the end of the driveway, watching his step in the dark. He saw Blaine leaning on the bonnet of his car, arms folded and feet over crossed.

"It's about time," he said, standing up straight, a broad smile on his shadowed face. He was wearing a leather jacket and his hair was unkempt. He looked like a bad influence.

"Why do you look like a criminal?" Kurt enquired, though he couldn't deny the fact that Blaine looked pretty hot like this.

"I call it 'inconspicuous-but-still-flattering'," Blaine informed him.

"I call it 'trying-to-look-like-a-badass-but-failing-miserably'," Kurt retorted. "Those shoes are all wrong."

Blaine chuckled as he leaned across and opened the passenger door of his car. Then he walked around to the driver's side. "Coming?"

"Where?" Kurt asked.

"Live a little, Hummel," Blaine said, grinning. Kurt simply stared at him, a disapproving look on his face. "Are you coming, or am I going to have to forcibly manoeuvre you into the car?"

Kurt entertained the idea and conceded it wasn't the worst thing he could think of happening. He remembered then that he was trying to get over Blaine and so, just walked forward and climbed inside the car and shut the door. Blaine climbed in, too and did the same.

"Cheer up, birthday boy," Blaine said, glancing across at a scowling Kurt next to him. He turned the keys in the ignition and the car started up with a small purr and Blaine began to drive down the street.

Kurt swung around to look at him.

"How did you know it was my birthday?"

"I have my ways," Blaine told him. "I'm not just a pretty face, you know."

"But, seriously," Kurt said, gravely. "How did you know?"

"Relax," Blaine chuckled, turning a corner. "I told you I had Jacob Ben Israel give me some of your details?" Kurt nodded. "Right, well, your date of birth was on there."

"Oh," Kurt said. "I tried calling you today."

"I know," Blaine told him. "I was busy."

Kurt fought the urge to ask what he had been busy doing, because he didn't want to nag him like Quinn did. He also wasn't sure he wanted to know, especially if he had been 'busy' with Quinn.

"I was busy," Blaine said again. "Planning something."

"Planning something," Kurt repeated, slowly.

"Do you remember that first day when we got paired for these assignments?" Blaine asked and Kurt nodded, a small smile on his mouth. "And I told you that I was full of surprises?" Kurt nodded, again, smile growing. "Well, now you get to see me put words in motion."

Kurt smirked. "I thought I already got to see you put words in motion the night of Puck's party."

Kurt watched as Blaine's jaw dropped and his eyes fell on Kurt, filled with surprise, then his mouth relaxed and twisted into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Touché."

"Let me get this straight. You woke me up at 2 A.M.," Kurt said, with a sort of contrived patience. "Just so that I could sit in a field with you?"

Kurt glanced around at the vast stretch of land around them. They stood in the middle of a field, with only trees lining the edges, which led into forest on all ends, except for one, which opened onto an abandoned parking lot, in which Blaine's car was now parked. It was empty and cold and the only sound for miles was the wind and the infrequent hoot of an owl in the distance.

"You know what? That is your problem," Blaine said, as he bent to his knees, then lay down so that he was flat on his back in the grass. "You are afraid to get a little dirty."

"Not true," Kurt shook his head. "I—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. The night of Puck's party, which, apparently, I am never going to live down," Blaine said, placing his hands behind his head. "Forget about that for a minute and get down here."

"Not a chance," Kurt declared. "It's filthy."

"Like I said, afraid to get a little dirty," Blaine rolled his eyes. "Which is why I came prepared."

Kurt watched as Blaine climbed to his feet and began walking back to the car. Kurt tried to follow, but Blaine gestured for him to wait where he was, so he did. A minute later, Blaine reappeared holding a blanket.

Kurt gaped at him. This was very much out of character for Blaine, or at least it was very much out of character for public Blaine. When they were alone, he sometimes said and did things that surprised Kurt, but this was a little far out.

"You.."

"Told you I was busy planning stuff," Blaine smiled, happily, as he spread the blanket down on the grass. He lay back down and patted the blanket for Kurt to lay down beside him.

Kurt stood for another moment, then shook his head and climbed down to sit next to Blaine.

"So, what's this all about?" Kurt asked, looking down at the other boy, who was still smiling, the bright stars reflected in his darker eyes.

"It's your birthday," Blaine provided. Kurt looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"It's just.. I wasn't expecting this."

"Duh," Blaine said. "That's the whole point of a surprise."

Kurt smiled a little, studying Blaine, his face all shadows and contours in the light of the moon. He looked so peaceful lying there. It was the first time since Kurt had met him that he looked truly happy.

"Come on, lie down and look up," Blaine said, reaching across and tugging on Kurt's sleeve. He gave in and lay down next to him and looked up at the velvet sky. Clusters of silver stars were spread over the entire space. The moon was high in the sky, it's glow covering the entire landscape below. It was bright and prominent and the entire sight made Kurt feel small and unimportant in comparison.

"I come here sometimes," Blaine said, quietly. "Just to get away."

Kurt said nothing, because there's not a lot a person can say to that.

"It puts everything in perspective, doesn't it?" Blaine continued. "I mean, I look up at all of that and I realise everything I consider vital in the world just—isn't. I forget that when I step back into reality, but that's why I like to come here. Because it makes me feel like I can just let go and understand who I am and what I should be doing and just—I don't know. It feels right when I'm here. Is that stupid?"

"Not at all," Kurt assured him. "You come here on your own?"

"Yeah."

"Blaine, that's so dangerous," Kurt shook his head, his eyes still locked on the sky, the stars' luminosity causing his vision to blur a little. "This is the perfect place to commit a murder."

"Way to ruin my sensitive moment, Hummel," Blaine joked, sitting up. Kurt sat up, too and smiled.

"Sorry."

Blaine sighed, happily.

"Don't you feel like you could do anything here?"

"Like commit a murder?"

Blaine snorted and rolled his eyes, the moon reflected in them, bringing out the flecks of orange.

"I'm serious, though," he said. "I feel like I'm not afraid of anything, right now."

"Is that a huge contrast from how you usually feel?" Kurt asked, curiously.

"Maybe," Blaine shrugged, head tilted back, eyes raised to the sky.

Kurt studied him sitting there, a sad smile on his lips, his eyes literally twinkling in the light of the celestial beings above. Blaine caught him staring when he dropped his gaze. He locked his eyes on Kurt's and smiled at him. A few seconds passed and Blaine shifted his body and leaned his head closer to Kurt's. He didn't do anything for a long time, then closed the space between their lips and kissed him softly. There was no tongue, no hunger, it was just sweet and calm, like it was all he needed, just to feel close to someone.

"What are you so afraid of?" Kurt whispered, once they'd pulled apart. Blaine stared at him, his eyes dilated and a shade darker now. His lips were parted and his breath was coming faster, emitting small, white, cloudy puffs of air in the cool night.

"Myself," Blaine uttered, finally and his lips found Kurt's again. His hand rested gently on the side of Kurt's jaw. It was trembling a little and Kurt's skin was tingling at the contact. Kurt opened his eyes and looked at Blaine, whose eyes were closed. He was murmuring against his lips and Kurt's blood was humming in his veins and all he wanted to do was to stay like this for as long as humanly possible. He couldn't tell him they weren't doing this any more, not now. He couldn't and he wouldn't and God, he didn't want to.

The pulled away again and Blaine smiled shyly, his face flushed, a sheen of the moon's light all across one side of his face. Kurt smiled, too.

"I almost forgot," Blaine cleared his throat and reached inside his jacket. Kurt watched him with inquisitive eyes as he produced a small box. He turned back to Kurt, his eyes darting around a little.

"This might be the most cheesy thing I've ever done in my entire existence," Blaine laughed a little. "But I just thought—it just felt right, okay? Here."

Kurt took the box from Blaine's shaking hands, their fingers brushing in the exchange. Kurt's heart was beating unusually fast as he tore the striped paper off slowly and carefully. He lifted the lid and stared down into the red tissue paper. A small, rectangular silver plate lay in the middle, with a thin chain extending from either end, disappearing into the red crumpled paper beneath.

Kurt took it gently between his fingers, aware of Blaine's nervous gaze on him and held it up in the light. There were words on the small plate, etched in cursive writing.

"I want to take you far from the cynics in this town

and kiss you on the mouth."

Kurt's heart stilled in his chest and he raised his ice blue eyes to Blaine, speechless.

"I.. I know it's p-probably tacky a-and stupid and not, like, what you would usually wear, because y-you're so, you know, you," Blaine said, stammering. "But I didn't want t-to get you nothing and the words have been just playing on m-my mind and it just.. I had to do it."

"Blaine, it's.." Kurt trailed off, shaking his head, words escaping him.

"It's okay," Blaine said, quickly. "It's perfectly fine if you don't want it, I didn't think you would anyway, I just sort of wanted to, because—"

"Blaine," Kurt said, firmly. "Stop. Stop. It's.. It's perfect. Thank you."

Blaine's face was frozen and his eyes were wide, but Kurt could see he was relieved from the way he allowed his shoulders to slump.

"Y—You like it?"

"How could I not?" he said, smiling and Blaine smiled, too, then. "Thank you," Kurt said, again. He leaned across to kiss him again and Blaine let him, a small gasp escaping his lips.

Blaine was the most unpredictable person Kurt had ever met. He was an idiot, that was irrefutable, but when he was like this, Kurt just wasn't sure. Yeah, he still wasn't acting as he wanted him to in school and stuff, but this Blaine sort of made up for that. Kurt felt stupid for feeling what he did, but he couldn't help it. This was real and maybe Blaine couldn't give him everything, but for now, it felt right and it felt enough.

"I don't get you," Kurt told him, once they'd broken away.

"Makes two of us," Blaine laughed half-heartedly. "Here," he said, reaching across to grab the bracelet out of Kurt's lap. Kurt held out a hand and Blaine closed the bracelet around his thin wrist. They both looked down at it for a long time, then Blaine raised his hazel eyes to Kurt's blue-green ones.

"I don't know what this is—us, I mean, but I... Like I said, I feel like I can do anything when I'm here," Blaine told him, his voice low. "I just—I know how I feel when I'm here, Kurt and.. I don't know. I can't say it, not out loud, because of everything that would mean, but I just wanted you to know that—I've never brought anyone else here before. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Blaine was gazing at him with those eyes of his and Kurt was trying to keep his head together. He guessed he sort of knew what Blaine was saying. It was confusing and he was speaking in riddles, but he understood that he meant something to him at least.

Kurt only nodded.

"And that," Blaine pointed down at the bracelet on Kurt's pale wrist. "That doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

"What if I do?" Kurt asked, boldly, heart racing again.

Blaine eyed him for a while, then smiled a little bit, just the very corners of his mouth tilting upwards an inch.

"Well, in that case," he said. "It means something."

And Kurt's heart stopped and Blaine's mouth was on his again and he knew there were so many things wrong and that they would go back to the strained friendship they had before, but he just couldn't bring himself to care at that moment. It was his birthday and he would have his fun for this one day, out of the entire year. This was his day.

"I should get you home," Blaine said, looking down at his watch.

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, not wanting to move from where they sat. Blaine stood first and offered Kurt a hand. He took it, gingerly, then felt Blaine's warm fingers entwining with his own. They gathered up the blanket and walked back to the car, hand in hand.

"This is so weird," Blaine whispered, but made no attempts to break away.

"Maybe," Kurt told him, as he opened the trunk to throw the blanket in. "Why are your clothes in here?"

"Mom and dad had another fight," Blaine frowned. "I'm not going home, so I brought those with me for school tomorrow."

Kurt looked at him funnily. He was serious.

"Where are you going to go?"

"I was thinking about coming back here and waiting until morning," he shrugged one shoulder.

Kurt swung around to face him, their hands still clasped.

"You can't stay here all night," he informed him.

"I've done it before—"

"That was before you met a very fashionable, talented sucker who would offer to take you in for the night," Kurt smiled.

Blaine smiled a little, too.

"You don't have to."

"Yes," Kurt told him. "I do. I couldn't live with myself if I knew you'd gotten murdered out here. And on my birthday, too."

"I won't get murdered, Hummel," Blaine grinned from ear to ear.

"Even still," Kurt said, squeezing Blaine's hand, gently. "You're coming home with me."

"And this isn't just because you think this will be a repeat of the night of Puck's party?" Blaine smirked.

"Ha-ha, yeah, you wish, Anderson," Kurt snorted. "Come on, let's go."

They broke hands reluctantly and climbed in the car and drove back out onto the roads. It was unusual and felt strange and neither of them understood it. The only thing they did know, was that it felt right and neither of them wanted it to end.