Consciousness

He threw a pebble into the lake and watched it splash in the water, the ring of puddles spreading throughout the lake. This was his pond. Even in the chilling wind of sunrise, the birds still chirped loudly when he came. He even took Kurt here several times. But what really kept him coming back here was because this was where he used to go fishing with his Uncle. His mentor. The only person in the world who understood him yet his Uncle’s life was taken from him at far too young, leaving Blaine lost for the rest of his schoolboy years.

“Hey, kiddo, cheer up, you’ll catch one next time,” Uncle Rob gave a small smile and patted him on the back as the little boy pouted and sat in the grass, a fishing pole laid limply in his small hand. His curls stuck to his forehead from sweat as he wore a tight frown staring at the frustrating lake.

“I always lose,” he mumbled tightening his grip on the pole.

“Easy there,” Uncle Rob soothed taking the fishing pole from Blaine’s grip. “Now, what makes you say that?” he asked sitting next to him and reeling his pole in after not getting any nudges on his hook.

The little boy sat crossed legged and looked at the flock of birds flying overhead. “At school, I’m always picked last. The kids don’t like me. It’s not fair. The boys say that I’m different. What do they even mean?” he grumbled, straining his face in anger.

Uncle Rob shook his head and raised his eyebrows, “You know, you’re special, kid. They just can’t see it yet. You wait and see, you’ll knock their socks off someday. If they yell at you, throw them one of those fancy dance moves I saw you doing earlier this morning. I guarantee no one will bug you anymore”.

Blaine giggled in his hands and dropped his head, shaking it. “I can’t do that”.

The man sighed and took off his hat. “You know what this needs?” he asked, shifting the hat in his hands and looking at Blaine. The little boy only stared at him. “Courage,” he said placing the hat loosely on Blaine’s head, “There you go kiddo”.

The little boy raised the hat above his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, “You’re lucky hat?”

“You bet. One look at that hat and those kids won’t mess with you,” the man laughed then coughed harshly into his palm and cleared his throat. “Promise me one thing,” he asked pointing a finger, a look of pain in his face. The boy nodded, the hat bouncing on his head. “Don’t you give up. If you want something, go for it. Even if it means chasing a fish for the rest of your life. You only got one life and you,” he touched to tip of Blaine’s nose with a thumb, “better make the most of it”.

The little boy nodded slowly and shifted the hat on his head, “Okay”.

“And Blaine?” he asked.

“Hm?” the boy hummed tipping his head back to see his Uncle from the shield of hat covering his eyes.

“Whenever you’re in a rut, I’ll always be here”.

For some reason, Blaine took that statement the wrong way. Instead of taking it as if his Uncle follows him from Heaven, he often visited the lake to think. Every time he sat in the grass and threw pebbles at the water, the same memory came to mind. A constant reminder, or a sign that he shouldn’t give up on Kurt. He never fished again since the last day he and his Uncle Rob came to the lake. He always resulted in sitting in the grass throwing pebbles into the water. As if it would catch a fish better than a fishing pole. Or just to attack the frustrating waters that never let him impress his Uncle with a good catch. Maybe he’s make his Uncle proud by his ever improved throwing skills.

“Hey,” a voice said softly.

Blaine lifted his head to see Kurt hovering over him, his eyes a striking blue, face calm, skin glowing from the blazing orange Sun setting fire to the horizon. “I lost the hat,” Blaine whispered, watching the other man closely. Kurt furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, “What hat?”

“Uncle Rob’s hat he gave me before he died. I don’t know what happened. It just disappeared. I don’t even remember being sad that it was gone,” he said frowning and turning his head toward the lake again.

“Sometimes you have to let things go,” Kurt said softly. The advice was simple enough but letting go was far too difficult for Blaine to handle. It led to forgetting. He didn’t want to forget his Uncle’s speeches or his sense of humor. He didn’t want to forget his laugh, his games, his music, him.

“How could you lose something as simple as a hat?” he asked tapping his thumb on his knee, “It was his lucky hat”. The hat didn’t symbolize him in any way, but it was something that Blaine could hold onto to remember his Uncle. Now all he had was this stupid lake.

The other man looked around at the deserted field then back at Blaine, “I don’t know what you want me to say”.

Blaine looked back up at him, “I didn’t expect you to answer that. I was just… thinking”. He sighed lightly and threw another pebble at the water. Kurt gripped Blaine’s hand and lifted him to his feet. “How did you find me?” he asked tightening his hand in Kurt’s.

The other man had a grin pulling at his cheeks, nose perked up sweetly, “I know you better than you think”.

Blaine laughed, blush lightly painting his cheeks. Kurt smiled then sighed, his eyes flicking towards the lake. The other man frowned, hand still holding Kurt’s, “I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning. I was just- I thought about how you,” he paused making an uncomfortable face, “with other guys. I didn’t want to, you know, be just, one of the rest,” he bit his lip, “I can’t talk right when you’re looking at me that way”. Blaine tilted his head to try to come up with the right words to say, but honestly, all he can think about was Kurt’s deep frown, eyes red rimmed yet wide and awake. “You- you look so upset,” he shrugged, “there aren’t any more words to describe it,” he sighed. “Did- did you cry?” he asked curiously but scared for the answer. Kurt only nodded and turned his head away. “I’m sorr-,”

“No, I- I deserved the little wakeup call” he stated numbly.

Blaine grunted dropping his head, “Sorry,” he repeated more sadly. His eyes closing, face drooping. He felt absolutely awful. Here, the beautiful and talented Kurt Hummel stood; with tired eyes as if he cried himself dry. He was the reason Kurt was upset. Why did he even stay?

The other man looked up, worried, “Don’t cry,” he begged squeezing his hand.

“Sorry,” Blaine sniffed; he couldn’t shake the thought of Kurt’s crying. The thought that he was the cause of it.

Kurt touched a hand to Blaine’s cheek, “Stop saying, ‘Sorry,’” he giggled.

The other man leaned into the tough and closed his eyes smiling, “Sorry,” he repeated. Kurt laughed shifting his hand to stroke Blaine’s loose curls before dropping his hand. Blaine opened his eyes from the loss then looked back at the lake.

“Do you want to, uh, hang out?” Kurt asked tugging lightly on his hand as they started to walk through the grass.

Blaine saw a sudden splash in the water and smiled. Courage, he thought, Bye Uncle Rob. “Sure,” he said with a smile looking back at Kurt.

“So, this is where we’re going to…,” he trailed off scanning the shelves stuffed with books.

“38 rooms of books,” Kurt laughed tracing his fingers on the cover of a book and sniffing the strong scent of dusty books.

“Why?” Blaine asked sliding a book out of the shelf and skimmed the back.

“Why not?” Kurt said stealing the book from Blaine’s hands and looking at the cover curiously.

The other man widened his eyes blushing faintly and begged, “Please, don’t-,”

“Twilight?” Kurt giggled cracking open the book and stopped at a page making sure to speaking in the more atrocious way. “'He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor-,'”

“Kurt,” the other man warned wrestling the book from Kurt but the other man slapped his hands and flipped a few pages and continued reading aloud through fits of giggles.

“’What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?-’ God, Blaine, this is awful!” 

“Stop it!” Blaine reached for the book, but failed again.

“‘I come almost every night. [...] You're interesting when you sleep-,'” Kurt giggled and shrieked as Blaine tickled him. He snatched the book from his hands, then dropped it as Kurt ran his hands on Blaine’s sides, poked him, and giggled. 

“Come on!” he gasped swatting Kurt’s hand away playfully.

“Blaine, do you have a vampire fetish?” he laughed tackling his chest with a fit of tickles.

Blaine gripped Kurt’s hands and pulled them off his sides with a grin, “Their pale skin, pink lips, brown hair…,” he said dreamily, holding both of Kurt’s hands to his chest.

“That sounds familiar,” Kurt hummed, smiling, heart hammering against his chest. Blaine laughed releasing his hands and tickling Kurt’s side. The other man yelped loudly and poked at Blaine who, in return, laughed just as loud.

“Shhhh!” hissed a woman behind a counter with a finger to her lips, giving them a warning look, and then buried her head back into her book. Kurt looked at Blaine and covered his mouth, laughing behind it. The other man kissed the hand coveringKurt’s mouth swiftly then retrieved the book on the ground, pushing it back on the shelf with the other books. Kurt wrapped his hand in Blaine’s, leading him out of the Book store.

“So, now we’re shopping?” Blaine asked, entering a large store filled with racks of designer clothes.

“You, Mister, need a new wardrobe. Lucky for you, makeovers are a hobby of mine”.

The other man furrowed his eyebrows, “Who said anything a makeover? I only need clothes!” he skimmed his eyes over the piles upon piles of clothes folded on lowered tables.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Kurt laughed. He picked out dozens of fabrics that hung on hangers then pushed it to Blaine’s chest. “Go, young one,” he said. The other man laughed taking the hangers, turned to the dressing room and tried on the clothing. Kurt was certainly impressive. Every outfit hugged him in all the right places yet Kurt would shake his head and wave him away for the next outfit. After Kurt shoved more clothes in his hands, picked out what he thought was perfect and paid them at the register, they carried bags and stood next to the rack of scarves and ties.

“Kurt, I have plenty of scarves,” Blaine sighed.

“And not enough ties,” Kurt retorted thumbing through the fabricated designs, then picked out one and wrapped it around Blaine’s neck. He flicked the fabric around and tied it tightly around his neck. He tugged on the tail a few times then looked up at the other man. Blaine’s face calm, eyes a warm deep hazel, hovering there. He studied Blaine’s face, how happy he was, how every movement was more beautiful than the next. How vulnerable and soft he looked, hair ruffled, lips parted, eyes cracked open little. It was almost too much. The way his heart was throbbing painfully in his chest when Blaine showed the smallest of smiles.

“Are you going to buy that?” a clerk asked straightening one of the shirts.
Kurt looked at the woman then loosened the tie, lifting it from Blaine’s neck and over his head. “Yeah,” he said quietly, holding the tie and leading Blaine to the shoe department.

“Kurt,” Blaine groaned eyeing the prices of the shoes stacked in boxes, “this is too much”.

Kurt scuffed picking up several boxes and giving them to Blaine. “Nonsense,” he hummed sitting in a chair waiting for Blaine to try on the shoes, yet he was still standing there motionless. “Try on the shoes,” he stated crossing his legs and smiling. Blaine merely looked at the boxes, “That was an order,” Kurt said in a serious voice.

Blaine chuckled trying on all of the shoes Kurt asked him to. They left the store with heavy bags hanging at their sides. “I’m hungry,” Blaine mumbled looking over at Kurt.

The other man smiled and nodded, “Let’s drop these off in the car and eat”.

“M’kay,” he said quietly, “But I’m paying”.

“Are you sure you still want to be my model?” Kurt asked from the other side of the table picking at his salad.

Blaine lowered the hamburger from his mouth and swallowed his last bite, “Of course”.

“But, you don’t want to do it for the rest of your life,” Kurt said coldly. Blaine stopped chewing and stared at his burger. “I’ll take that as a ye-,”

“No, Kurt, I mean, maybe”. Blaine sighed setting the burger down. “I don’t know what I want right now. Modeling isn’t exactly a passion of mine but, we’ll see. I’ll stay as long as you want me, but, I may leave before you want me to go”.

Kurt looked up at Blaine and wiped his mouth with a napkin, suddenly losing his appetite. Blaine picked up his burger and took another bite, chewing slowly and looking around the restaurant. “Well, when you do find what you want, I’ll support you, even if it means losing you”.

“You’re not losing me,” Blaine assured taking a sip from his drink and looking at the other man with a grin.

Kurt smiled lightly and set his napkin on his plate. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Blaine answered picking up his jacket from the back of his seat. They left the restaurant and into the brisk winter breeze.

Kurt shivered; cheeks rosy as he tried to fight the strong cool wind. Blaine draped his jacket over Kurt’s shoulders and smiled. “Thank you,” he said, a train of smoke escaping his mouth.

“No, thank you,” Blaine said stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The other man looked at him for a long moment then broke into a chuckle, “You’re so cheesy,” Kurt laughed, skin gleaming, eyes bright.

Blaine opened the passenger side door and gestured Kurt inside, “You like it”.

“So, do you?” Quinn asked attaching lights to the long runway of the next day’s fashion show. He couldn’t believe it, the week skipped right along as if any other yet so much has changed since a week ago. Maybe it was because every thought that entered his mind had something to do with Blaine.

“Do I…,” Kurt said straightening the chairs next to Quinn and tying ribbons to the seats.

The woman stapled another wire to the stage, “Do you like when he’s cheesy?”

Kurt scooted more chairs into a neat line then scrunched his face, “It’s kind of annoying,” he lied reaching for another rack of chairs. Quinn stopped stapling and glared at him. He caught the look then put up his hands defensively, “Okay! It’s kind of cute,” he blushed pulling out some chairs and setting them next to the rest.

“Aw,” Quinn cooed turning back to the wires and lights, “When are you going to sleep with him?” she asked. Kurt widened his eyes. He hadn’t thought about being intimate with Blaine since the other day. For some reason, it was kind of nice to think of being with him rather than being in him.

“Q, it’s not like that with him”.

The woman laughed and stepped next to him, pecking him on the cheek with her lips. “Good,” she giggled. “You deserve to be in love”. And for the first time, Kurt didn’t shoot back an insult, or deny it, or even throw the idea out of question. Falling in love was thrilling and new. He’s said that he loved so many men in the past yet it was all a lie. Those relationships felt like nothing but a label. He wanted to slap himself for not knowing sooner. It was more that the shopping, eating, and talking with Blaine. He loved everything. It was the way Blaine would drag one foot on the ground and pick up the other as he walked. It was the way Blaine’s hand would twitch in his whenever Kurt would laugh. It was the way Blaine would go about everything as if confused, not sure whether to stay where he stood or follow Kurt. It was the way Blaine would stiffen when Kurt would fix or stitch his outfit together. How little meaningless touches sent his mind whizzing. He felt this energy around Blaine. A comforting feeling. Like it was something he didn’t want to break away from. And that’s what killed him the most. Blaine will eventually have to leave when he finds what he wants to do with his life. The trick was to figure out how to keep him. At least for a little longer.

Blaine woke up the following morning and sleepily crawled out of bed. He walked into the kitchen and saw a not on the counter. ‘Off with Quinn to decorate for the fashion show. Be back at 8pm – Kurt’. Blaine smiled at his handwriting. It was neat and curled at the end of each word. His number was written in at the bottom of the note as well as, ‘P.S. Don’t go running away again’. He laughed to himself and typed in the digits of Kurt’s number in his phone. He scratched the back of his neck turning to the plastic bags that sat on a chair in his room. He looked through the new clothes Kurt bought him then satisfyingly slid on a long sleeve shirt and felt an itchy tag rubbing against his neck. He reached a hand to the tag and carelessly ripped it off and flung the tag on the ground then guiltily bent to pick it up. It was a crumpled cardboard tag that read, ‘A Hummel Design,’ across it. The man widened his eyes and gaped at the tag that was creased around the edges from when he tugged it off. Kurt designs were in stores? How could he have not seen this before? He looked at the shirt he was wearing, a small bird stitched in the corner in a navy blue. Pavarotti. The bird that symbolized the Warblers of Dalton Academy. Blaine frantically searched through the shopping bags, pulling out the selections Kurt only said, “Yes,” on. Blazer; ‘A Hummel Design,’ with Pavarotti etched in the cuff of the jacket. Black dress pants; ‘A Hummel Design,’ with Pavarotti stitched small on the outside of his pocket. Collared shirt; ‘A Hummel Design,’ with Pavarotti sewed on the inside of the collar. He ripped through each piece of clothing. Pavarotti stitched somewhere on the fabric, the tag printed in Kurt’s name. Even his shoes, Pavarotti were printed in the sole of the shoe with, ‘A Hummel Design,’ printed boldly on the shoe box. Well, Blaine really was blind. Maybe Kurt did care about him before he transferred back to McKinley?