Blaine turned his face towards Kurt, grinning widely, evidently oblivious to the gasp the movement had elicited from the other boy. Their faces were so close together. It would take very little effort for Kurt to close the gap. Very little effort. Blaine’s scent was filling his nostrils, clouding his mind, and that suddenly seemed like the best idea he’d ever had. Just as he began to lean forwards, however, Blaine turned away again and rested his head on Kurt’s shoulder. The taller boy let out a shaky breath. This was getting ridiculous. He didn’t know why he ever thought he would be able to survive being in love with someone and not telling them.

“I wish I could take you somewhere,” Blaine said, turning his forehead into Kurt’s shoulder. He didn’t realise that his hair brushed against Kurt’s neck, making him shiver.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day soon. I feel like we should be celebrating it somehow. And I don’t mean that I want to be off having fun with someone else,” Blaine continued, lifting his head from Kurt’s shoulder. They still had moments which were strained, predominantly like these. Blaine constantly tried to reassure Kurt that he wanted to be there, not realising how much worse that made it for the other boy. He just wished they could be as they were before, each accepting that together was where they would rather be. Blaine looked into Kurt’s eyes as he spoke, probably to show how truthful he was being, but only succeeding in distracting Kurt a bit. “I only want to be with you,” he said. Kurt had to work hard again not to kiss him. Blaine was utterly blind. Did he not realise the connotations saying those things had? Did he not realise what he was doing to Kurt’s heart? “But I want to take you away. To the beach or the mountains or, I don’t know, shopping. Real life shopping, not internet shopping.”

Kurt laughed and rested his forehead against Blaine’s; if he couldn’t kiss him, he could at least be closer to him. “That sounds perfect. I want that, too. I wish we could just pack our bags and fly somewhere, you know? Somewhere crazy, like New York.”

Blaine hummed in assent and leaned into Kurt again, his forehead buried in the crook of his neck. Kurt wondered if this was strange, friends being close this way. He wouldn’t complain about Blaine’s tactility, but he also needed to make sure he didn’t get his hopes up. It was too much to ask that Blaine would just fall in love with him. His conversation with Mercedes had already made him hope more than he usually allowed himself to.

Kurt thought over what Blaine had said. He really did want to see more of the world, get out of his tiny town; in fact, he was desperate to leave his house, let alone Lima.

“We should go.”

“What?” Blaine asked into Kurt’s jacket.

Kurt sighed and pushed Blaine up, holding onto his shoulders and looking at him with a serious expression. “We should go. Let’s book tickets and fly to New York. Valentine’s Day is on Monday, but we can go on the weekend so you don’t miss school.”

A frown crept onto Blaine’s face. “Kurt, we can’t. Your dad would never let you and I don’t even want to think about how risky that would be.”

“I’ll wear gloves and even a balaclava if you want me to. We can walk in the least deserted parts of town – although we have to see Times Square at least once – and we’ll go out at night rather than the day—”

“Are you forgetting it’s called The City That Never Sleeps?” Blaine raised his eyebrows at Kurt with a grin and Kurt hit his arm lightly.

“Don’t be mean. There will be fewer people on the streets. I just really want to. And we could go and see shows if we got seats at the end of the row and didn’t try to go to the bathroom.”

“What? What does the bathroom have to do with anything?”

“Oh,” Kurt said with a wave of his hand, “theatres always have ridiculously crowded bathrooms. Far too dangerous. But—”

“Kurt.” Blaine took Kurt’s hands in his own, his eyes bright with suppressed laughter. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. We’ll go to New York. But you’re the one that has to ask your dad.”

Kurt groaned and stamped his foot a little. “That is not fair: that’s the worst job.”

Blaine just stuck his tongue out at him.

They spent the next few hours planning their trip, making a list of all the things they wanted to see and the places they wanted to eat and every shop Kurt wanted to go into early in the morning when no-one would be there. Blaine watched the other boy plan wildly, a soft smile on his face. He really couldn’t refuse Kurt anything. This trip was insane. It was the worst and best idea they’d ever had rolled into one, but Kurt wanted it and Blaine couldn’t deny him.

The two boys stood a few feet from the subway exit, hands clasped between them, just gazing up at the enormity of the city surrounding them.

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Kurt said, his voice barely audible over the sound of car horns, footsteps, and street vendors shouting. “We’re in New York.”

Blaine finally dragged his eyes away from the flashing lights of Times Square, to Kurt’s face. The other boy was still enthralled by the sight in front of him, eyes bright blue and wide, and Blaine was struck by how stunning he was in that moment.

“It’s beautiful,” he replied, not sure whether he was talking about the city or the boy any more. He squeezed Kurt’s hand gently and bumped his shoulder against the other boy’s. “One day, you’ll be here. You will sing on the biggest stages and bring the biggest crowds. Or you’ll design the clothes that every person would kill to have.”

Blaine had meant for the words to make Kurt smile, but they had the opposite effect. The taller boy turned his head away from his friend, face falling into a frown. “Don’t…don’t say things that can never come true, Blaine. That will never be me. Just being here right now is dangerous. Think of all the people walking across this very square. Within a one hundred yard radius of where we’re standing, there are thousands of opportunities for me to connect with someone I will never even see the face of.” He shook his head, still not making eye contact. “This…this was a terrible idea. I don’t know why we thought this would be safe at all.”

“Kurt—”

Blaine was cut off as a tiny girl wearing an obnoxiously bright coat burst between them. She grabbed each of their hands and pulled them forwards a little before releasing them and spinning to stand in front of them, stretching out her arms.

“I made it!” she yelled, throwing her head back and grinning at the grey New York sky. “I’m here! Rachel Berry is in New York, and now that I’m in here, you’ll know I’ve been here before I am done!” Her speech had turned into song and Blaine vaguely recognised the tune as she skipped away from them into the crowd of people, but he wasn’t concentrating on the girl at all. He was staring at Kurt, horrified. The other boy was standing completely still, his hand, which he had ungloved to hold onto Blaine’s, stretched out towards where the girl had been standing, his expression utterly broken.

“Kurt…” Blaine didn’t know what he could say. Kurt eyes filled with tears and suddenly he collapsed, falling into Blaine and clinging to him as he sobbed. Both of them knew they would never see the girl again, and Kurt’s heart was breaking for the loss of someone he couldn’t know, but loved impossibly deeply.

After a time Blaine couldn’t count, Kurt’s sobs diminished slightly, but Blaine did not stop rubbing his back. He just pulled Kurt tighter to him as the other boy mumbled something into his jacket. Kurt pulled his head away a little so Blaine could hear him.

“She was singing Wicked, Blaine.”

The memory of the tune clicked in Blaine’s mind: he recalled lying on Kurt’s bed as they listened to the entire Wicked soundtrack, watching Kurt dance around his room and sing along to every song. Kurt knew nothing about the girl other than her name and that she could sing and make references to one of Kurt’s favourite musicals. From those tiny snippets of information, it seemed like she and Kurt could have been friends, and that only made it worse.

“Blaine, please. Take me home,” Kurt whispered into the crook of Blaine’s neck. “I thought I wanted to come here, but this was a bad idea. I need to leave. Take me back to Lima.”

The request would be absurd coming from any other person, but this was Kurt, and this was Blaine, and it wasn’t absurd at all. They took a taxi to avoid the people on the subway, and then a plane back to their small part of Ohio. When they stumbled through the door, Burt and Carole looked up, seeming to understand immediately what had happened. Blaine had talked with them before he and Kurt left, and he knew they had been worried, but Kurt was a force of nature and he could not be compelled to change his mind about this trip.

They let Blaine take Kurt up to his room alone, where the taller boy collapsed on the bed, still sobbing. His tears had barely stopped since the moment the girl – Rachel Berry – had left them standing in the middle of New York. Blaine sat on the bed beside Kurt and stroked his back.

“Kurt, I know I can’t understand what you’re feeling right now, but I’m still here, okay?” He kept his voice quiet, taking one of Kurt’s hands in his own. The other boy gripped Blaine’s fingers tightly and pulled their joined hands into his chest. “We’re all still here,” Blaine continued, “and although we can’t make up for this loss, we can help you through it. Not everyone you connect with is going to leave you, Kurt.”

“I know that, Blaine. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Kurt was not trying to mean. He was not trying to be bitter. He had spent many years working hard at not being bitter, because he knew it did him no good. He couldn’t hold it in sometimes, though, and he was unable to stop the cutting tone to his voice.

Blaine sighed, knowing that whatever he said would not make it better for Kurt. It was just like any other person’s loss: it took time to heal. Rachel Berry had no idea how much damage she had done. He said the only thing he could think of: “You’re my best friend, Kurt.” He had said it countless times before, but he felt it important to reiterate it. He could not have expected the reaction.

“Blaine, are you completely blind? Or are you just stupid?” Kurt sat up suddenly, pulling away from Blaine’s comforting touch to glare at him. He saw Blaine’s confused expression and barrelled on. He could take no more of being only Blaine’s friend. “Did it never once cross your mind that when we connected, I might have fallen in love with you? Did you not realise that was a possibility?”

“Kurt…what are you saying?”

“Oh, you idiot, Blaine,” Kurt yelled, standing up on the opposite side of the bed from the boy he loved. “I fell in love with you! My stupid body attached me to you in a way I can’t control, and it made me love you! And I couldn’t tell you because you would feel guilty and never see me again, and my stupid, unwillingly love-struck heart would not let me do that because I can’t live without you. So don’t say that you will be here for me as my friend, because it’s not good enough any more!”

Blaine had stood up when Kurt had, but he sank onto the bed again. He stared, wide-eyed at the quivering boy in front of him. Kurt’s eyes were completely open, his emotions exposed and raw, and Blaine couldn’t think of what to say. “Kurt, I don’t…I don’t know what to do. What do you want me to do?”

If Kurt had looked broken before, it was nothing to how he looked now. He visibly flinched and curled in on himself, his shoulders slumping as he brought his arms around himself. Blaine had just dashed all hopes he had had that his friend might return his feelings. His heart broke for the second time that day, and Kurt had thought people were exaggerating when they said they felt it in their chest, but now he knew that they weren’t. There was a dull ache settling in his ribcage as his tears continued to flow down his cheeks. Blaine just continued to stare at him, with that stupid crease between his eyebrows and that stupid confused, hurt, worried expression in his stupidly beautiful eyes. Kurt couldn’t look at him any more.

“Please leave.”

“Kurt, I—”

“Just get out!”

There was a beat of silence in which Blaine continued to stare into Kurt’s eyes. Neither boy knew what he was trying to communicate, but the moment was too short to truly establish the emotion. Blaine stood up, understanding what Kurt needed, and left the room.

Kurt fell towards the bed, just managing to crawl onto it before he had to clutch his knees to his chest and sob. He felt as though someone had ripped parts of him away and then stabbed him for good measure. He lost track of time and tears, only becoming aware of something other than what he was feeling when his father sat on the bed beside him. Burt was looking at him with deep concern, and Kurt knew he had heard the argument. He clasped at Burt’s hands and pulled himself into his father’s arms. Burt simply held him as he cried, stroking his back. There was nothing he could say to his son. He had felt this way himself and he knew there were no words that would make it better.