Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Kurt – he could never just be Hummel anymore - had walked out of his life, and damn it all if it hadn’t been the worst three weeks of Blaine Anderson’s life.

He kept trying to catch Kurt’s eye in the hallway. Where he used to avoid any sort of contact with the boy earlier, Blaine now went out of his way to ensure contact – lagged behind in the one class he had with Kurt(French – Kurt had been incredibly surprised to realize that the empty seat at the back of the class technically belonged to Blaine), followed him to his locker(but from afar, not too close, he couldn’t be seen interacting with the gay kid), even left him notes. And Kurt ignored him. He didn’t acknowledge Blaine’s attempts at all, even going as far as to rip one of Blaine’s notes in front of him, shrugging in response to Mercedes’ anxious question. Just some guy. It’s not important. And Blaine hadn’t stuck around long enough to hear the rest of that conversation.

It’s not important.

Why did those words affect him so badly? Wasn’t that exactly what he’d wanted? Hummel had been nothing but a means to an end for him, a distraction, something he would never acknowledge. But Kurt? Kurt was more.

And Blaine found himself inexplicably thinking of their first time. Kurt had insisted on topping, and Blaine had been so afraid of the pain, although he hadn’t said anything. But Kurt had been so incredibly gentle, guiding him through the process with utmost care and working him open until Blaine was begging, begging for more. And even when he’d entered, he’d been slow and careful, refusing to move more than an inch at a time while Blaine adjusted.

Blaine closed his eyes and rested his head on his folded arms, staring blankly at the surface of the desk as Mrs Something-or-the-Other droned on about Russian wars. He didn’t care what she was talking about, didn’t care that people were giving him strange looks, just… didn’t care about anything.

That afternoon, Bieste asked him to meet her in her office. “Anderson,” she addressed him brusquely, “something’s up. You’ve been flat for weeks now, and while I don’t wanna drop you – god knows you’re one of the best I’ve seen, even if you are tiny – you’re forcing my hand.” Blaine sighed and pulled a hand through his hair. This came as absolutely no surprise. Of course the world was going to want to take this away, the one thing that mattered anymore.

“Do your worst,” he responded dully, refusing to meet her eyes. Coach Bieste frowned, her keen eyes raking up and down his body, and Blaine suddenly felt as if he was being stripped bare of all pretenses. Shannon Bieste wasn’t your average football coach.

“I’m… confused,” he admitted, surprised at how rough his voice sounded. Bieste smiled sympathetically.

“Aren’t we all, kid? You’re months away from graduating – makes sense you’d be confused. But hey, I heard about those football scholarships, and OSU’s got their eye on you too, I was talking to their coach-“

“Not about that,” Blaine interrupted, although god, she just had to remind him didn’t she? Remind him that he had no fucking clue what he wanted? He loved football, but he didn’t want to play it for the rest of his life – or until some part of him physically broke under the strain, and he was forced to retire. “About… other things.” He fidgeted with the hem of his jersey, part of him still unsure about why he was sharing this with Bieste. Maybe it was because there was no one else to share it with – he certainly couldn’t march up to his conservative father, his spineless mother, his big superstar brother and tell them that he was questioning his sexuality. Because of one boy – one boy he couldn’t get out of his head, be it the way he felt inside Blaine or the way his eyes scrunched up when he laughed.

And it was just questioning, after all. Blaine wasn’t… he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t put aside everything he knew and believed about the world and himself, just for one boy. It wasn’t possible. It was too soon. But the fact that he’d been thinking about Kurt’s words for the last three weeks said something.

You need to come to terms with who you are.

And it wasn’t enough to just say “Blaine Anderson, running back for the McKinley High Titans”. Because that wasn’t who he was, that was what he was. The who of it all would take a little longer to figure out.

Bieste watched him with kind eyes. “I’m not gonna make you tell me,” she assured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “But you’re a smart kid, Anderson. You’re just afraid to follow your instincts. It’s why I never made you quarterback.” Blaine gaped soundlessly at her, and she winked.

“Don’t be afraid to take the plunge, punkin. It’s hard – I know it is – but it’s usually worth it.” She squeezed his shoulder once before releasing him and making her way to her desk. “Now get out the hell of my office and where you’re supposed to be.”

Blaine swallowed and exited the office, making a mental note to thank his coach properly.

He knew exactly where he needed to be. Kurt would be in the library, waiting for Rachel because she had some meeting for some club that she was the head of(Blaine didn’t care which club, the annoying little Jew grated on his nerves enough by just existing) and finishing his homework. And yes, maybe Blaine felt a little strange for knowing this, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except finding him.

When he entered the library and found it empty, he felt his heart plummet. The librarian offered him a quizzical look – most probably because he was still in his training gear, damn – and he fought back the urge to snap at her. He wandered aimlessly through the shelves, part of him hoping that Kurt had just stepped out for a moment. But he couldn’t see any sort of backpack at the small cluster of tables…

Blaine almost tripped over Kurt Hummel, crouched in the aisle between ‘biological sciences’ and ‘math’. Kurt let out a startled sound, his blue eyes widening as they swept up to meet Blaine’s. Blaine gulped and squatted down, wondering if he should ask Kurt what he was doing here, but Kurt made the decision for him.

“Don’t. Just… don’t.” Kurt shook his head and reached out to run one finger down the spine of a pre-calculus textbook. Blaine exhaled softly, shrugging in response. “But what are you doing here?” Kurt asked, eyebrows lifting. “I wasn’t aware that the library was a popular hangout for your kind.” Blaine flinched at the cutting tone, but if there was one thing he knew about Kurt, it was that he got mean when he was insecure.

Blaine sighed and reached for Kurt’s hand, the one on the book. “I came to find you,” he admitted gruffly. Kurt’s eyebrows inched higher, but he didn’t ask the uncomfortable question of how Blaine knew where he was. “Because I’ve been trying to tell you something for the last three weeks, and I haven’t known how. But now I guess I do.” Kurt pursed his lips and tipped his head to one side, eyes still fixed intently on Blaine’s face. The shorter man wet his lips, his stomach jumping a little as he saw Kurt’s eyes follow the path of his tongue.

“I’m not ready,” he blurted out, and watched nervously as Kurt’s eyes narrowed. “I’m n-not ready to… to, I don’t know. Admit anything. Change anything.” He winced as Kurt’s expression immediately closed up, his posture becoming stiffer. “But I’m willing to try,” he rushed to add, squeezing Kurt’s wrist lightly and brushing his thumb over the underside. “Because you… make me want to try.” He closed his eyes to avoid Kurt’s expression, not wanting to see what it was. “You- fuck, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for three weeks. For more, even. That’s never – I’ve never – ”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” Blaine opened his eyes, relieved to see that Kurt’s expression had barely shifted. “I can’t… say I’m thrilled. I still don’t want to be your little gay secret, Anderson.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “That first time was a mistake. I shouldn’t have –”

It was Blaine’s turn to interrupt now. “Don’t,” he requested, shifting a little closer. “Don’t regret it. I-I don’t.” He frowned. “Not really. I think.” And he hadn’t expected Kurt to laugh at that, but he did – high and clear and beautiful. Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… you just look cute when you’re confused.” Blaine raised his eyebrows at the wording, and Kurt rolled his eyes. “Not- you know what I mean.” Blaine grinned and impulsively leaned forward to kiss Kurt. It was so different than their usual kisses, so hurried and ferocious – this was gentle, chaste. It was comfortable.

It was hopeful.