He’s ignoring Blaine because he’s not sure how he’s supposed to explain himself.

By high school law, however brief his relationship with Brittany had been, she had made it Facebook Official. Blaine had sent him a cheeky text offering to be in a joke relationship with him on the social networking site if he had wanted one so bad.

The phone call that followed had been the worst.

Kurt remembers chuckling awkwardly and explaining that Brittany was his girlfriend. He forced his voice lower and stared at himself in the mirror as he spoke to Blaine.

He didn’t like his reflection. Stupid hips obscured by stupider coveralls. Floppy bangs that only served to make him look younger.

He hated the way Blaine’s voice had started to waver.

The way the flannel made his skin itch.

“So you’re - you’re, what? Straight? Who do you think you’re fooling, Kurt?” Blaine squawked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it.”

He saw red. He’s still seeing red. But now he has a cracked iPhone screen to explain to his dad. His entire year feels cracked. Cracked windshields, the distance between himself and the teammates that he wanted so badly to be close to. Mercedes still looks at him with sympathetic smiles and Kurt wonders if things could have been different if he was honest from the beginning.

Rachel asks about Blaine sometimes, say she can relate to the torrid affairs of the star-crossed, and Kurt tells her that he has no idea what she’s talking about.

The kids in the New Directions seem nice enough, but Kurt is only there to sing with them. He’s not there to make meaningful friendships. He plans for Ohio to be a fading landscape in the rear view mirror in a couple of years. Sure, people will say they knew him when the time comes. When he’s taking Broadway by storm or writing scathing editorials or whichever way he chooses to be brilliant.

High school isn’t meant for making meaningful relationships. He had known that for certain before meeting Blaine.

Liking the same musicals and having similar dreams doesn’t make someone your best friend. It means being there for them, no matter what they’re going through.

Kurt hasn’t decided if Blaine is even owed an explanation. He doesn’t know how to tell him that he feels like he’s fading into the background and screaming at the top of his lungs for reasons that have nothing to do with unequal solo distribution. He feels like his father is replacing him for the Son 2.0 model and he’s doing everything he can to keep his place.

He feels like Blaine is being mean to him because Kurt doesn’t want to be his boyfriend.

It’s not that Blaine isn’t sweet and gorgeous and everything Kurt had pictured his first boyfriend to be. Far from it. He is everything and more. It’s scary, how good they could be together. He’s seen their first kiss at least a dozen times, and it made kissing Brittany all the more disheartening.

Before, he relied on how unobtainable Finn was when he was looking for safety. He knew he would never act on it, he knew that Finn would never return his feelings, but both of these things managed to be comforting.

There is no heartbreak when there is nothing there.

Blaine needs to be safe, too. Dalton provides that. There are gates with honest to god ivy growing on them and prejudice is left at the door. Kurt knows it isn’t always genuine. There are probably plenty of boys at that school that, given the chance, would say what was really on their minds. But they don’t. They can’t. Blaine is safe.

Kurt only ever wants for Blaine to feel safe.

The truth is, he doesn’t know if they’ll ever be safe - from fists, from heartbreak, or from themselves.

There is a knock at the door, and Kurt looks up the basement stairs while he tries to work out who it might be. Finn is at football practice and Carole and his Dad are still at work. He doesn’t have friends over, not anymore. Usually he goes out to Dalton to see Blaine. He still doesn’t drive and it’s difficult for him to get a ride out to Lima.

“Come in.”

The door opens, and Blaine is standing at the top of the stairs. His hair is shellacked to his head in a way that looks downright painful. His Dalton uniform is tidier than usual. Kurt feels like he’s looking at him for the first time, and he hasn’t decided if that’s a good thing or not.

He looks different from the boy Kurt met back in September.

Kurt wonders how much of it is real.

“Can I really?”

“I guess,” Kurt shrugs as he takes a seat on the couch. “I can say that I’m not hoping that you don’t fall down the stairs, but come in.”

“I can’t stay for long,” Blaine explains. His hands move to his hair and his fingertips barely touch before he seems to realize the disaster his hair has become. He awkwardly shoves them in the pockets of his slacks instead. “Wes is outside.”

“Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Yeah.”

Blaine is looking around Kurt’s room curiously, and that’s when Kurt realizes that he’s never been in it before. In fact, the last boy to step foot in his room had been Finn.

“Is that a chair?” Blaine eyes the birdcage chair suspiciously. “It looks dangerous.”

“Are you here to talk interior decorating or are we going to actually talk?”

“It would be easier to talk about interior decorating.”

“The things that are worth it don’t come easily.”

Blaine sits down beside him, leaving plenty of space between them.

“I was jealous,” Blaine says quietly.

“I figured.”

“I was jealous and instead of worrying about you, I was mean to you. I shouldn’t have done that.” Blaine looks over at Kurt, and stiffens a little when he finds Kurt already looking at him.

“You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“You seem so lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” Kurt insists. “I have you.”

“I meant at school. Even at home, sometimes. You talk about magazines and music and sometimes I feel like I’m left wondering what’s really going on with you.”

“It’s easier to talk about magazines and music.”

“Like interior decorating?”

“The week I designed this room was the same week someone carved--” Kurt bites his lip and shakes his head. He feels like he’s cried enough over certain things, so he decides this particular one isn’t deserving of his tears. “They carved fag on my locker. So I drove to IKEA and maxed out my credit card.”

“Did your Dad flip out?”

“At first. But then he got the call from the school. They tried to slap me with detention for vandalizing school property.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Welcome to McKinley.”

Blaine places his hand on the couch between them, and Kurt takes it.

“I say terrible things when I’m scared,” Kurt smiles weakly. “I get it. I’m not saying that you weren’t mean, that I wasn’t hurt.... but I get where you’re coming from.”

“I’d take it back if I could.”

“Part of me is glad you can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you were being real. You weren’t calculated for once. You were mad and you just blurted it out.”

“Do you think I’m a fake?”

Kurt nods to his hair. “Sometimes.”

Blaine’s phone rings with a text alert. He draws his hand away to check the message.

“Wes,” Blaine explains apologetically.

“Wouldn’t want you turning into a pumpkin,” Kurt smiles, his words an echo of a few weeks ago.

Blaine’s expression is undecipherable, but Kurt knows he’s holding back. There’s a pinched quality to his features, like it’s physically paining him not to blurt something out.

When Kurt walks him to the door, Blaine pauses in the entryway to lean in and kiss Kurt on the cheek.

“I don’t care who you like, Kurt,” Blaine says shyly. “As long as you promise to always be my best friend.”

“I like boys,” Kurt whispers back. He can still feel Blaine’s breath ghosting over his cheek, even as he’s pulling away. “But you’re my favorite one.”