Blaine grabbed the gloves which were always on his bedside table before leaving the room. He checked he had all his sheet music as he closed the front door behind him. He flicked through the pages, pulling a pencil from his bag to edit one of the backing harmonies, sharpening a couple of notes to brighten the sound. He had to listen more intently than most of the other Warblers because he was on his own; he needed them to keep him in tune. He’d been focusing on the core melody for most of the practices, but the day before he’d tuned in to Trent and Jeff’s part and something hadn’t sounded quite right. Looking at the notes, he knew what he needed to change. Their tune was just too flat.

Blaine didn’t want to say he was obsessed with winning Sectionals, but he knew he wasn’t far from it. He was spending almost all of his free time with Kurt, but he was barely sleeping because he was going over the songs in his head at night. Even though talking to Kurt was utterly enthralling, over the past few days Blaine had started to think in two layers: the immediate, vibrant layer that was Kurt and the quieter, stressed layer that was notes and harmonies and perfect beatboxing. He wasn’t distracted exactly; his whole mind was just not as concentrated on conversation and the film they were watching and the way Kurt laughed as it normally was. He never tuned out; he simply had slower and less witty responses and perhaps laughed a little too late sometimes. Blaine didn’t think Kurt had noticed.

“Blaine, are you even listening to me?”

He had.

Blaine blinked a couple of times before realising Kurt’s eyes were trained on his. “Oh, of course. Yes. I don’t agree: I think her May 2003 cover was better. She just looked so much fresher, you know?”

Kurt frowned at Blaine, but nodded. The boy was obviously listening, but he had appeared to be so far away. His eyes had fogged over and his grip on Kurt’s hand wasn’t as tight as normal. This was happening a little too often.

“Blaine, what’s wrong?”

Blaine grinned in a way that was hopefully winning. “Nothing.”

“Now you’re just lying.”

He sighed and placed his head in his hands, letting Kurt’s fall to the table. He rubbed his face, ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Kurt, I’m just thinking about other things. You’re not boring, I’m just distracted.”

Kurt was relieved Blaine was actually willing to tell him what was going on; he had started to worry about the other boy. He carded his gloved fingers through Blaine’s curls gently. “What’s distracting you?”

“Sectionals,” Blaine said into his hands. “I know it’s ridiculous.” He lifted his head and smiled as Kurt continued to stroke his hair. “I shouldn’t let a competition get to me like this, but it’s really important to us.” He closed his eyes and leaned into Kurt’s hand, allowing himself to relax just a little. He was so tightly wound and even Wes and David hadn’t been able to make him feel better; being on the council meant they were possibly more stressed than he was. But the small movement of Kurt’s fingers in his hair, the rough material of the gloves scratching a little at his scalp, was more soothing than he had expected. Kurt was bright and excessive and had a tongue that could bite, but he was also soft. To Blaine, he brought a sense of calm and familiarity that he often missed in his life.

“It’s not ridiculous,” the other boy said, his voice not as sharp as it had been before. “You’re forgetting that I live with Finn. And Mercedes practically lives here, anyway. They’re both just as crazed as you, if not more. I think it’s probably normal. Just tell me these things, okay?”

Blaine hummed his assent and tried to lean more heavily on Kurt’s hand. The other boy pulled it back quickly and Blaine had to catch himself, eyes snapping open.

“Sorry,” Kurt said, eyes wide. “Your chin. It nearly touched my wrist.”

“Don’t apologise. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Kurt’s eyes were filling with tears and he pulled his gloves off in frustration, throwing them on the table. He stood up and went to the kitchen island, gripping it hard. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“You don’t. You can’t possibly know.”

Blaine sighed, picking up Kurt’s gloves and carrying them over to the other boy. Kurt stared at them for a second, looking as if he wanted to set them on fire, then grabbed them and pulled them on with a huff.

“Kurt, it’s almost as frustrating for me. I obviously haven’t felt exactly how you do right now, but I can at least understand it.”

Kurt nodded and took Blaine’s hand again, leaning heavily against the counter. “How long are we going to do this for?”

“That’s completely up to you. I can’t make that decision.”

There was a pause in which Kurt simply watched Blaine, his eyes seeming to probe deep into Blaine’s heart. Then he straightened up. “Get me the sheet music.”

“What?”

“Show it to me. Tell me what part of it is bothering you and I can help you figure it out.” Kurt held out his hand expectantly and Blaine quickly retrieved the scribble-covered paper and his pencil. If Kurt wasn’t ready to think about that, then he would have to accept it. They could push it away for today.

“It’s just this part,” he said, pointing to one of the lines of music. “I’m not sure if the harmony’s quite right.”

“Can I try it?” Kurt asked. “If you sing your part, I’ll do this and we’ll just see what happens.”

Blaine very nearly hugged him. This boy always knew exactly the way to fix things. He began his solo, looking right at Kurt as he sang and the other boy joined in, their voices weaving around each other up until the points where they clashed.

“There,” Kurt said, pointing at one bar and wincing at the memory of the noise. “That one. Make that sharper.”

Blaine amended the notes then raised his eyebrows at Kurt, asking if they should continue. Kurt grinned, picking up just as Blaine did. They didn’t stop again; Blaine just crossed out notes or added new ones or changed existing ones as they sang. He almost missed them a couple of times, being wrapped up in listening to Kurt’s voice. They’d sung together before, belting out Broadway numbers or Gaga and even, when Blaine was persuasive enough, a bit of Katy Perry in Kurt’s bedroom, dancing without getting so close that they might touch, but they had never exactly sung a duet. Although this couldn’t exactly be called that, it still felt different to Blaine. Their voices had to work together, ignoring the notes that simply wouldn’t fit, and they created a sound Blaine hadn’t prepared himself for. They made Kurt’s eyes shine a sharp blue that made Blaine’s stomach flip.

They reached the last almost-chord, the two notes of which didn’t quite match up, and Blaine forgot to scribble on his paper. He was still staring at Kurt’s eyes, which hadn’t yet faded back into that inexplicable colour they normally were. They were bright blue, so different from the green they turned when Kurt was tired or when he cried. They weren’t grey the way they were when he was being sarcastic, or when he was thinking about other’s suffering and shaking with anger. They were singing blue and they drew Blaine in. They were intoxicating. He lifted his hand, dropping his pencil, to press it over Kurt’s, but the other boy grinned and shook his head, waving his hands in a shooing motion. Blaine realised Kurt wanted him to move back, so he did, letting the other boy take his place.

“If we just change this,” Kurt said, picking up the pencil and drawing over the note, completely oblivious to how Blaine was still staring at him, “then it should be perfect.” He turned his head and flashed Blaine a bright grin. He at last seemed to notice the boy’s dazed state. “Are you alright?”

Blaine nodded slowly, reaching out blindly to take the music, still watching Kurt’s eyes. They were returning to comfortable glasz now, but were just as alive as they had been moments ago. Kurt had to straighten up quickly so that Blaine wouldn’t grab his hand instead of the paper. Blaine’s shirtsleeve had been pulled up when he extended his arm and there was too much wrist exposed for that action to be safe.

“Yeah,” Blaine said. “It’s just…” He looked away from Kurt at last, down to the pages in his hands. He fanned them out, taking in each little edit. He cleared his throat. “It’s never sounded like that before.”

“What, in tune?”

Blaine shook himself just the tiniest bit before grinning at the other boy. “Oh, shut up. But,” he said, reaching out a hand and taking Kurt’s. “Thank you for helping me.”

Kurt shrugged. “It’s the least I can do. At least it makes life more interesting. And I get to hear you sing, Blaine Warbler.” He smirked at Blaine and squeezed his hand.

“What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me that?”

---

Kurt sat on the bed to watch Blaine unroll the tape measure. The shorter boy had to do more complete measurements of himself so Kurt would actually be able to make him clothes. Kurt wanted to do it – his inner control freak didn’t trust Blaine – but he couldn’t. They would be too close. There would be hands near faces and knuckles near skin. It would never work.

“You never did tell me what you were doing that day.”

“Hmm?” Blaine asked as he wrapped the tape around his hips, checking the number and calling it out to Kurt, who noted it in his work pad.

“The day we met. You said you don’t normally shop at seven on Sundays.”

“Oh, right.” Blaine continued to look down at his legs, measuring the length of his thigh and avoiding Kurt’s gaze. “I was avoiding my dad.” He read the figure off to Kurt, who said nothing, waiting for Blaine to elaborate. He continued, speaking slowly as if he had to force himself to say the words. “Things can just get a little awkward in my house. My dad’s not altogether thrilled with me being gay and conversation is…stilted. He gives me these looks sometimes and I just…I didn’t want to be there right then. I don’t know why I decided to buy apples, but…” He looked up at Kurt. “I’m glad I did.”

Kurt put down his pad and pen and walked towards Blaine. He cupped Blaine’s cheeks with his hands, the fabric of his gloves warm against Blaine’s skin. “Why must you always make it so hard not to hug you?”

Blaine laughed, trying to ignore the way he wanted to lean his face closer to Kurt’s. This was exactly the boy he couldn’t feel that way about. He couldn’t want that from Kurt when Kurt may be physically unable to return it. He would be just like every other cruel person who used faeries if he tried to force himself on the boy in front of him. They would most likely connect as friends and Blaine would be left in a situation he didn’t think he could handle. Of all the boys in the world, Kurt was the one that Blaine could not fall for.

“I guess,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed just above Kurt’s eyes, firmly away from his mouth, “I’m just that loveable?” He tried for a cheeky grin and seemed to succeed, judging by Kurt’s chuckle. “Seriously, though, let me finish measuring myself before I do something stupid like throw my arms around you, okay?”

Kurt sighed and dropped his hands from Blaine’s face. He sat heavily on the bed and let Blaine continue. “That shouldn’t be stupid. Affection shouldn’t be stupid or careless. It should just be able to happen.”

Blaine bit his bottom lip as he leaned down, measuring between his knee and his ankle. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t mean that showing affection for you is stupid, it’s just this—”

“Blaine, I get it. Let’s just…move on. We’ve had this conversation too many times today.” Kurt watched Blaine pull the tape measure taught, trying to ignore all the ways he wanted to show this boy how much their friendship meant to him. He tried to forget how many hugs he wanted to give, how many fist-bumps he wished he could roll his eyes at, how many playfully reprimanding swats he longed to exchange. He had to distract both of them. “Would it be insensitive to say ‘tell me about your daddy issues’?”

Blaine laughed and straightened up, throwing the tape measure at Kurt, who caught it before it hit him in the face. “It depends which ones you’re asking about.”