‘Are you sure I can stay here?,’ asked Kurt for the fourth time, when Blaine let him into Cooper’s empty room.

It was typically boyish, with tiny car models on the shelves and dark blue walls. The bed in the middle was wide and comfy, reminding Kurt painfully he hadn’t slept in a normal bed for four nights. Four nights too many.

‘Yeah. My brother doesn’t come back home very often, and when he’s not here, nobody comes in here.’ Blaine shrugged. ‘There’s the bathroom,’ he pointed at a door to their right.

Kurt bit his lip; he was still feeling like a burden.

‘Thanks.’

‘Um, yeah- Get comfortable, I’ll be downstairs,’ said Blaine, retreating into the hallway.

Once the door was closed, Kurt held his hands up and pinched himself. He winced, when the pinch stung. So, by some miracle, it was all really happening.

Taking a long, deep breath, he opened his suitcase, and took out a clean outfit. Then he went into the small bathroom. He couldn’t recall ever enjoying a shower this much; as if the water pouring over him and down his body was the source of the greatest pleasure under the sun.

When Kurt went back out of Cooper’s room, he could hear Blaine bustling around the kitchen, so he jogged down the stairs. His host was rummaging through the fridge and some cupboards, their doors standing open.

Blaine raised his head, as he heard Kurt approaching.

‘I don’t think I have anything for dinner,’ he said apologetically. ‘I can make us grilled cheese, if you’d like?’ He winced, embarrassed.

Kurt glanced over the products strewn all over the counters.

‘May I?’ He pointed at the refrigerator.

‘Suit yourself.’

It took Kurt fifteen seconds to find a mix of frozen vegetables in the freezer and a box of rice on the counter.

‘I think you do have something for dinner after all.’

Blaine glanced from one of Kurt’s hands to the other.

‘No, I don’t. Because these require actual cooking.’ He waved at the food.

Kurt couldn’t help, but laugh.

‘Oh, come on, this isn’t foie gras.’

‘What?’

‘It’s a French dish, made of duck’s liver.’ Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine’s cuisine ignorance.

‘Huh. It sounds gross.’ Blaine paused for a second. ‘So you can cook?’ His voice sounded hopeful.

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

‘If I couldn’t, I’d be long dead. Either because I’d have starved to death, or I’d have died of salmonella poisoning, because my dad can’t even cook a chicken properly.’ He fell silent, realizing that he’d probably shared too much. ‘Anyway, I can cook. Especially something that requires no Gordon Ramsay kind of skills.’

The next half an hour Kurt spent cooking and explaining culinary basics to Blaine. He figured it was as much as he could do to thank Blaine for his hospitality. He also decided that his host was a really nice, though a bit strange guy.

And Blaine decided that his guest probably wasn’t a criminal or a psycho after all.

***

For a moment they were eating in silence, broken only by the clinking of forks and the sounds of chewing. Kurt had asked if they could eat properly, in the dining room, and Blaine agreed; he was thankful that he could enjoy a cooked dinner, instead of stuffing his stomach with the usual crap.

‘This is really good,’ he said with his mouth full.

Kurt looked at him over his own plate, with a sheepish smile.

‘Well, thank you, kind sir. But you do know you shouldn’t be talking with food in your mouth, right?’

Barely avoiding choking, Blaine chuckled and swallowed.

‘Are you picking on my manners?’

‘Oh, yes, I am.’

They giggled in unison. The remnants of the earlier tension were dissolving, leaving them entirely comfortable with each other.

‘Kurt? Can I ask you something?,’ said Blaine after swallowing another mouthful.

‘Hm?’ Kurt’s eyes were still stuck to his food; he could sense their conversation was no longer playful.

‘Why did you- Why did you run away?’ Blaine knew he was being nosy, but his curiosity took the best of him.

It was exactly what Kurt was expecting. He sucked in a deep breath, formulating his answer, realizing how stupid and shallow it all sounded.

‘My dad and I… We’ve got some issues. Or we would have them, if I stayed.’

‘Issues?’

Kurt let out a sigh.

‘We don’t get along very well.’ He paused. ‘I think he sees me as a disappointment. Like I’m not enough of a man,’ he added quietly.

Blaine nodded; it all sounded too familiar. His throat clenched at the memory of every single allusion to Cooper being the better son. Those pathetic attempts at straightening him out. He shuddered, lifting his gaze back to Kurt only to find him staring blatantly at him.

‘Looks like I’m not the only one with problems.’

‘Everybody’s got problems,’ replied Blaine. Kurt took the hint and didn’t pursue the topic.

After a few minutes of chewing in silence, Kurt spoke again.

‘Where are your parents, anyway? Won’t they drop dead at the sight of some stranger in their house?’

‘They would, if they came back now. But they won’t. They’re coming back Monday.’

‘And where exactly are they coming from?,’ Kurt asked, before biting his tongue. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

Blaine shook his head.

‘No, it’s fine. They’re at some doctor conference.’

‘Oh.’ It made sense to Kurt that a kid of a couple of doctors would be constantly neglected and alone, simultaneously being a prep school boy.

After dinner the boys went into their separate bedrooms, trying not to bother the other, but at the same time wishing not to say goodnight just yet. This out of the blue encounter made both of them feel much less lonely.