Blaine snuggled closer to Kurt on the sofa, nudging his head under his chin. He had pushed into the house before Kurt could even open the door properly and had thrown his arms around him. Kurt had just held him like that for a few minutes before leading them to the couch. Blaine had immediately manoeuvred them so they were stretched out across it and had curled as close to Kurt as he could, laying his legs over Kurt’s and hooking one foot between his calves, arm around his waist, head buried in his neck with his own back pressed into the couch cushions. Kurt had laughed a little, but had wrapped his arms tightly around Blaine’s back and tilted his body inwards, bringing them only closer, so that Blaine was lying across his chest.

Kurt traced tiny circles around one of his vertebrae, stroked a hand flat up Blaine’s back and tangled his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Blaine hummed and pressed a light kiss to the curve of his neck. He nudged his nose across Kurt’s skin, following the tendon up and pressing barely-there kisses to his jaw. Kurt’s eyes fluttered closed and the fingertips of his other hand slipped under the waistband of Blaine’s trousers, sliding over the soft skin of his hip. Blaine paused with his lips by Kurt’s ear, kissing the shell once and just resting there. Kurt turned his head, bringing them face-to-face, and Blaine slid a hand up his chest to cup the side of his neck. Their eyes locked; Blaine’s hand lifted from Kurt’s neck, the tips of his fingers running over the skin of his cheek and over his cheekbone to hover over his brow, tracing between it and Kurt’s temple as he stared unblinkingly at him. Kurt watched him with contentment settled deep in his eyes, pulling Blaine in, helpless to stop himself. Blaine nuzzled his nose against Kurt’s and at last closed his eyes, smiling as he felt Kurt’s breath across his lips.

He felt Kurt’s head tilt and then he was kissing him, slowly, and with more love than Blaine had thought possible for a gesture so small. They broke apart, but only just, their lips still brushing against each other as they breathed.

“Kurt,” he whispered – the first word he had said to him that day. “I—”

“Shh.” Kurt pecked his lips. “Don’t.” His whisper was low, so quiet that Blaine could barely hear it. “Just be here with me. Don’t think about anything else.”

Blaine smiled again and he knew Kurt could feel it. He tilted his chin up and Kurt complied with the unspoken request and pressed their lips together. It was more this time: lips moving against each other, pressing harder; shuddering breaths against each other’s mouths; Blaine shifting, sliding up, so that his face was above Kurt’s, coaxing him with kisses deeper into the couch and licking across his bottom lip. Kurt pulled back, a smile still on his lips, and Blaine slumped a little, resting on him. He kissed the corner of Kurt’s mouth, let his lips slide across his cheek and then curved around his neck, resting his face against Kurt’s there. Kurt kissed the top of his head, then settled back into the couch cushions, holding Blaine close to him.

They stayed like that for some indeterminate time. Their eyes fell shut and their breathing matched up as they absorbed each other. They were so warm, wrapped together, and neither could remember being more content to simply be with another person.

When they heard the sound of Finn coming through the front door, football bag banging against the wall and the hat stand, they almost expected it. They’d been in a state of placid stasis – the kind that everyone knows won’t last. Blaine tilted his head up and kissed the underside of Kurt’s chin before pushing himself up. They rearranged themselves into sitting positions, hands clasped and Blaine’s head dropping to rest on Kurt’s shoulder.

Finn came in, dropping his bag on the floor and heading towards the kitchen, waving vaguely over his shoulder at them. “Hey.”

“Hi, Finn,” Blaine said, voice slow and happy-drugged.

“How was football practice?”

“Uh...” They heard the fridge open and close and a drawer crash. “Pretty bad, actually. Coach Beiste was in a really bad mood for some reason.”

They fell silent, the sound of Finn making a sandwich for himself fading into the background. Blaine stared down at their joined hands, stroking his thumb slowly back and forth across Kurt’s knuckle. Kurt stretched one of his fingers out to brush the tip against Blaine’s knee, just a tiny point of contact. Blaine smiled blissfully and closed his eyes.

He heard Finn drop into one of the armchairs and start to eat. They pulled apart a bit, albeit reluctantly.

“How’s Dalton, Blaine?” Finn asked around a large bite.

“Good. Preparing for Regionals, so the pressure’s on for the Warblers.”

Finn grinned and started in on amicable, opposing-team ribbing and attempts to wheedle the setlist out of Blaine. Kurt smiled and leaned more against Blaine as the boys talked. Lying with Blaine had tugged him into a warm, sleepy state and he yawned. Blaine turned to him, finishing up his conversation with Finn.

“You’re sleeping okay now, right?” Blaine traced the skin under Kurt’s eyes before remembering Finn was there and dropping his hand.

Kurt smiled gently at him. “Yeah. All thanks to you of course.” He nudged his nose against Blaine’s cheek and winked at him. Finn coughed slightly and placed his now-empty plate on the coffee table, but Kurt ignored him. “I’m done with letting Rachel Berry ruin my life.”

“What?” Finn’s head shot up.

“Nothing, Finn.”

“No, Kurt, what did you say?”

Kurt frowned at him. “I said I’m sick of being broken-hearted over her.”

“No,” Finn said with a shake of his head. “Her name. What did you call her?”

Kurt opened his mouth, then paused and tilted his head at him. Blaine shifted beside him, sliding forward in his seat on the couch and leaning towards Finn. “Why?” Blaine asked.

Finn shifted towards them in his seat. “Just – Kurt, say her name again.”

“Rachel. Rachel Berry.”

Finn’s eyes, already wide, only grew in size. Kurt had never seen him look so shocked.

“Finn, what is it?”

“Oh my god.” Suddenly, an almost manic grin broke out on his face and he jumped out of his seat. “Oh my god, Kurt, Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry.”

“Finn, what—?”

“Kurt, I know her! She goes to McKinley. Everyone thinks she’s really weird because she avoids people a lot and has this amazing voice but won’t join Glee Club and I think she might just be lonely. But she’s—”

Blaine stood up, dropping Kurt’s hand. Kurt was sitting, frozen, staring at his brother. “Finn,” Blaine said, cutting Finn off, “are you sure? Is...Do you really know her?”

“Yes! Kurt, dude, this is awesome! Why didn’t you say her name before? You could have found her.”

Blaine turned to Kurt. He finally moved, looking up at his boyfriend. Blaine’s eyes were bright with happiness, his features painted with relief and excitement. Kurt shook his head slightly. “Blaine.” Then he laughed, a blissful release of tension. “Blaine.”

Blaine sat down beside him again, grinning widely, and cupped Kurt’s face in his hands, resting his forehead against Kurt’s. “I know,” he gasped out around a laugh. “I know.”

Kurt gripped Blaine’s shoulders and turned to Finn. “Tell me about her. What’s she like?”

“Well,” Finn said, rubbing the back of his head, “I don’t really know. Like I said, she doesn’t talk to people much. Glee club goes to the auditorium sometimes and she’s singing, but that’s basically all I see of her. Oh, and she wears gloves all the time. It’s totally weird. Santana says it’s to hide her hairy hobbit hands, but I seriously don’t think that’s true.” Finn sat down again. “Yeah, it’s weird. I never see her in the hallways and she always... I dunno, it’s like she doesn’t want to touch people. She keeps really far away from everyone, like, stepping around them while she’s walking or whatever. And she’s never in the hallways.”

“You seem to know a lot about her for a girl you’ve never talked to,” Kurt teased.

“I just think she looks nice,” Finn said, raising his hands in protest. “I feel bad for her, you know? I guess I just notice her because of that.”

Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Kurt.”

Kurt looked at Blaine, confused by his tone.

“I think... Can I put out a theory and you just tell me whether I’m crazy or not?”

“Sure,” Kurt said with a slight frown.

“You said she avoids people,” Blaine confirmed, glancing back at Finn, who nodded. He turned back to Kurt. “She doesn’t just stay away from them. She tries not to be physically near them. She avoids touching people.”

“Blaine,” Kurt warned.

“No, listen. So she ran away from you, right? And when you grabbed her hand, what did she do?”

“She... she looked terrified. Blaine, please, don’t tell me you’re—”

“But, Kurt, just think about it. She wears gloves to school,” he said, starting to tick off a list on his fingers, “she avoids physical contact, she—”

“She purposefully touched both of us in New York. Blaine, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why? Why can’t it make sense? There could be a reason for her doing that, Kurt. We have no idea!”

“We also have no idea whether what you’re implying is actually true. That is a big leap to take, Blaine.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Um,” Finn broke in, “what are you guys talking about?”

Kurt stared hard at Blaine for a second, but he didn’t back down. “Blaine seems to be under the impression that Rachel Berry is a faerie.”

Finn gaped, but sat back in his chair and frowned. “Well...”

“Oh, Finn, please tell me you’re not seriously considering this. It’s ridiculous.”

“No, Kurt, wait,” Finn said, evidently thinking hard. “I actually...Yeah, you know, that kind of does make sense. Like, a lot of sense.”

Kurt tried to break in and protest, but Finn held up a hand.

“Why wouldn’t she join Glee Club if she’s such a good singer? We know she loves performing and we know she doesn’t really care about her... social rank or whatever. She’d have to dance with us if she did. She’d have to touch people. Also, gloves? You guys used to have that thing, remember? It makes sense. She never has any skin bare except, like, her face and neck. I don’t think that’s her just being... frigid. She just won’t let people touch her. There was one time I saw her in the hall between classes and a guy reached out to hold her arm for some reason and she literally jumped away from him. I just thought she was being weird, but...”

Kurt stared helplessly between the two boys, both of whom were looking at him with conviction, trying to make him believe them. “I... I still don’t think that’s very conclusive evidence! I’m sorry, but I don’t think that proves anything.”

“Why are you fighting this so hard?” Blaine said, frustrated.

“Because I’m not going to get my hopes up over some stupid theory! I don’t want to start believing this and think she’s going to be like me and care about me and then find out we just made it up in our heads! I’m not going to do that to myself. I’m not.”

“What if we can prove it?” Blaine asked, taking Kurt’s hands again.

“How, exactly, are you going to do that?”

“I’ll do it,” Finn said, sitting straighter and nodding to himself. “I can pretend to be about to take her hand, see what she does.”

“I’m sorry, that proves nothing. She just might not like touching people.”

Finn huffed and looked at his hands. Blaine tilted his head, shifting closer to Kurt. “Why don’t you just meet her? Finn can find out where she goes after to school or something. You can go talk to her, just to see. And that way, you might find out you guys get along, faerie or not.” He stroked a thumb across the back of Kurt’s hand and spoke softly: “Don’t you want to at least try?”

---

Rachel pretended to trip on a paving stone. She reached out a flailing arm and grabbed the wrist of the man walking past her, who immediately steadied her, hand on her shoulder.

“Whoa, you okay?”

“Yes, sorry. Thank you,” she said, grinning up at him and giving his wrist a light squeeze. She paused momentarily, drawn in by his beautiful eyes and the fact that she was totally in love with him, then released him. “That was really nice of you.” Her eyes slid away from his.

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled, patted her on the arm, and carried on walking.

She stood still for a few moments, staring at the ground; his eyes were still in her mind, along with the ghost of the warmth of his skin on her hand. She blinked rapidly and forcibly straightened up, moving on with a purposeful stride. She reached the coffee shop closest to McKinley and shoved her hands deep into her pockets as she entered. The warm air hit her cheeks, making them feel overheated for a moment, and the smell of coffee snapped her out of her broken-hearted haze a little bit.

She ordered mindlessly, stepping carefully out of people’s way as they passed her on her way to pick up her coffee, then settled herself at one of the tables. She caught sight of Finn Hudson through one of the windows and frowned a little: she’d watched that boy at McKinley and he really didn’t seem like the coffee type. He was more of a soda-and-junk-food kind of guy. He didn’t seem to be coming in, though, so she dropped her eyes to the table. She pulled some sheet music out of her bag, deciding to memorise another song she’d never be able to perform.

After a few minutes, someone came to stand next to her, clearing their throat and holding out a hand for her to shake. She jumped and pulled herself away from the bare skin, eyes looking up in consternation at the person who was standing at a distance too small for her to feel truly safe.

“Kurt Hummel,” he said, a smile on his face that she couldn’t quite place. She stared up at him, stomach dropping. She knew this boy. The one who had found her again. She was overwhelmed by the sense of relief that came with seeing him again; the sense of completion.

His hand was still held out towards her. Rachel steeled herself, battling against years of habit, and held out hers in return. She shook his hand and tried to appreciate the brief physical contact. “Rachel Berry.”

Kurt was watching her expressions with deep interest. He looked like he was trying to figure her out and Rachel wasn’t sure she liked it. “We’ve met before.”

She paused. This was going against all of her rules. She could tell this was going to hurt her – it always had. Fall in love, but don’t stick around. The cardinal rule. “Briefly,” she muttered, looking away from him. Panic was building up in her chest. She couldn’t do this: she couldn’t let this boy in, not even slightly. “I have to go.”

She stood up, gathering her music frantically and shoving it into her bag as she walked out, coffee abandoned on the table. Kurt followed her, though, running a little to catch up with her. “Why do you keep running away from me?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Rachel, please, just wait for a minute.”

Why did he have to keep pushing her like this? She stopped suddenly and span towards him. “What do you want from me?” she yelled, throwing her arms up in a highly dramatic way. She couldn’t help it.

Kurt stared at her, biting his lip hard. He didn’t know what he was doing, why he was allowing himself to be convinced like this. He looked down, wrung his hands, then set his shoulders back and lifted his eyes to hers. “I love you.”

She stared at him, completely confused but still feeling the leap in her chest, the surge of hope. “Well, I don’t love you.” She turned to stalk away, but Kurt grabbed her by the shoulders and bodily spun her towards him.

He laughed at her, but she could see the pity in his eyes. People shouldn’t feel pity for her. She was Rachel Berry, unfazed by anyone or anything, ruler over her own emotions. People did not condole with her.

Kurt watched the way her eyes flicked in consternation to where he was holding her, as if this never happened to her -- which it didn’t. He knew this was crazy. He wasn’t sure why he was letting himself be taken in by this idea, this fantasy, but it seemed to slot into place. “I don’t think that’s true,” he said. “It’s one of the things we have in common.”

She lifted her chin, though the effect was diminished by his height. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t pretend it didn’t happen, Rachel.” Kurt didn’t know at what point he became convinced, but he was sure now.

“What are you—?”

“Don’t you remember? You grabbed my hand in New York. Sang a little bit of Wicked.” His voice was becoming bitter. “You connected us. Do you remember that? Or did you erase it from your memory?”

She stopped struggling against his hands on her shoulders and stared at him, large eyes widened. “You… you can’t be…”

There it was. Confirmation.

“That’s never happened to you, has it? You never thought you’d touch someone like you. Did you not consider that? Didn’t think that you might be breaking someone else’s heart?”

This could not be happening to her. Never, in all the time she had been doing this, had she seen one of them again. Never had they been like her. This boy was the first of her kind she had ever met and they were already connected.

She should have guessed. The connection was different. His was something other to her, something warmer without the want she sometimes had; something that felt familiar, friendly. She should have understood what that meant.

“I really,” she wrenched herself from his grip, “do not know what you mean. Are you drunk?” She was a brilliant actress. She could do this. This boy would not make her heartbreak get the better of her.

Rachel avoided people on principle. She knew so few, but felt love for so many. She kept everyone at a distance for fear of connecting with them past the brush of skin and emotion. Therefore, she was not very perceptive when it came to the nuances of others’ emotions; she was not aware when she was pushing too far. She wasn’t prepared for the sudden heat that blazed in Kurt’s eyes, the way his jaw clenched, the way he snapped.

“You bitch,” he yelled. “You heartless bitch. Who do you think you are? You can’t just break a person like that and pretend you didn’t know what you were doing! I cried every night over you and you can’t even give me the courtesy of acknowledging what you are, what you did.”

Part of that hit home for Rachel. She could imagine how her evening would have gone if this boy had not accosted her: she would have returned to her empty apartment, put off sleep for as long as she could and, when she at last crawled into bed, cried herself to sleep. She would have imagined that it was just tragic, but occasionally the hurt overwhelmed her. Sometimes she remembered what she had done to herself and every wound was ripped open at once. Those times, sleep wasn’t an option. She would curl in on herself, sobbing, unable to bear the thought that she would never see any of those people again. She would cry over her own anatomy, curse her own body for being born this way. Nobody deserved it.

The morning that followed would be the worst. Those nights left her raw. She would be in a haze of pain for the rest of the day, touching anyone and everyone just to make it go away, if only for a few seconds.

Suddenly, Rachel felt horribly, cruelly thirsty.

Kurt saw the tears in the girl’s eyes and the way her shoulders had slumped. She seemed to be shrinking in on herself, pulling away from him. Kurt couldn’t remember what he was going to shout next because this beautiful girl, who he was so deeply attached to, was crying and all he could think to do was comfort her. He pulled her towards him, somehow managing to wrap his arm around her without any resistance. He rested his chin atop her head, rubbing her back as she let out a sob. She clutched at him, letting him be everything their connection allowed; letting him be her best friend just for a moment.

Suddenly, she pushed him away, making him stumble backwards. “No!” She wrapped her arms around herself. “No,” she repeated, her voice quieter. “I can’t do this.” She had to leave. She couldn’t be near someone she loved and let emotions run wild. She turned and ran from him and this time, Kurt did not pursue her.