Things felt a little easier between them now. They didn't really jump into a friendship, but at least the snarky, rude comments from Kurt stopped altogether, and Blaine didn't feel so uncomfortable as they worked around each other, expecting Kurt to strike back if he made the slightest wrong move.

Still, that first day, it was a little awkward. They were feeling out how their new truce would work. Kurt had for once acted like a human being and now that Blaine had given him the space to be himself, instead of kicking him out the way Kurt had expected, everything still felt too fragile. Kurt was clearly on edge, thinking carefully before he opened his mouth to talk, and sometimes he wouldn't even look at Blaine when he spoke.

His behavior was such a change from the man Blaine was used to seeing. He was used to Kurt being carelessly cruel with his words, to that smirk that he was convinced had taken up permanent residence on the man's lips, to the glares, and the snorts of contempt. This felt so different, and he wasn't sure how to handle him just yet.

He certainly wasn't expecting to lighten their initial awkwardness with laughter.

The morning was long gone, and they both had kept busy all day, involved in their own projects. Blaine was back on his computer, searching for the phone number of one of the organizations to donate the stuff in the backroom, when Kurt approached him warily.

"Uhm," Kurt said, and it was obvious he was still nervous from what had happened earlier. "I'm gonna go take my lunch break now, if that's okay with you, Mr. Anderson..."

Blaine's head swiveled up to look at him, and his eyes widened a little. He tried. He really, really tried, but when he just couldn't hold it anymore, he barked out a laugh.

Kurt tried to act nonchalant about his reaction. He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

Blaine covered his mouth with his hand and forced himself to calm down. Finally, he looked back at Kurt, biting his lip. "Kurt... I said we should keep things professional, but let's not be ridiculous, okay?"

"I... what do you mean?" Kurt shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

"Calling me Mr. Anderson? Isn't that just a little too much?" Blaine asked, smiling.

"Well..." Kurt shrugged. He still seemed to be trying to figure out what Blaine wanted from him.

"We are probably the same age. It's just weird to be so formal," Blaine scrunched his nose. "You can call me Blaine. That'll be enough."

"Fine," Kurt sighed. "Can I go take my lunch break now, Blaine?"

Blaine smiled at him once again, and nodded. "Yes, Kurt. Go ahead."

Kurt turned around and walked out of the bookshop. His shoulders were hunched, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. Blaine frowned as he watched him go, and a million questions buzzed in his head.

"Have you always lived in Ohio?"

Kurt looked up at him in surprise from where he was kneeling next to his toolbox.

It was the first time either of them tried to start a conversation. A real conversation. For the past few days they had stuck to trivial topics ("Looks like it's going to rain soon, isn't it?" "The Lima Bean is great, but there's a coffee shop in Westerville that has better cinnamon rolls"). They were safe topics to navigate while they were still very much unsure around each other.

But, Blaine had to admit, he was curious. He wanted to know more about Kurt. He'd had a lot of time to think since Monday (since no one was waiting at home for him, or anyone but his mother ever called him to chat) and he had reached a conclusion: Kurt's previous rude attitude (he was almost waiting for it to make a comeback, wondering if at some point Kurt would explode and all traces of kindness would disappear) probably had a lot to do with the fact that Kurt was a very bitter man. Blaine didn't mean it as an insult, but simply as an observation, a fact. There was something bitterly resentful about Kurt, about the way he got through a day, about the way his smiles weren't even real smiles at all. There was something bitter in the way he seemed uncomfortable every time Blaine showed him any kindness. It was almost as if he expected to be yelled at, insulted, and treated like crap all the time.

So Blaine thought he would start there, to find out what he wanted to know, a simple enough question to begin with.

Apparently not, judging by the way Kurt frowned, with his blue eyes shifting to stare out of the window pensively.

"Yes. Well, I did live in New York for a few months, but..." He answered softly, almost lost in thought. Then he shook his head. "But yeah. I was born and raised here. Probably gonna die here in this hellhole, too."

It was Blaine's turn to frown. If everything Kurt had said and done until now had seemed bitter to him, that last sentence had to be the most bitter of them all. But before he had time to address that, Kurt sighed.

"What about you?"

It was obvious he only asked the question to divert attention from him, and that merely piqued Blaine's curiosity even more. Still, he didn't want to make Kurt uncomfortable, so he decided to let it go.

"Me, too," Blaine replied. "I've actually never spent much time in Lima before. I've mostly lived around Westerville."

"I've only been to Westerville once," Kurt said, as he grabbed the measuring tape, and used it to measure a piece of trim he was going to cut. "I considered transferring to Dalton Academy, the..."

"Really?" Blaine interrupted, as his eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's where I went to school! And I work there now!"

"You do?" Kurt seemed surprised to learn they had a common link. "Are you a teacher?"

"No, I'm the librarian there," Blaine answered diffidently.

Kurt snorted softly. "Of course you are."

There was nothing insulting in Kurt's voice. It actually sounded more like friendly teasing, and Blaine liked the way it felt. He smiled and rolled his eyes. "It's a good job and Dalton is a great place to work." He watched Kurt as rechecked the measurement he'd made. "Did you ever end up doing it?"

"Did I... what?" Kurt asked, distracted, as he reached for the pencil he kept behind his ear and made a little mark on the wall.

"Transfer," Blaine reminded him. "To Dalton."

"Oh," Kurt frowned, his eyes still glued to the wall. Blaine studied him carefully, waiting for a reaction. "No. My family couldn't afford the tuition."

"Why did you want to leave your school?"

"It was populated entirely with idiots," Kurt answered simply.

"Oh right," Blaine muttered, a little wide-eyed that Kurt had been so bluntly honest. "Well, it's a pity, really. I'm sure we would have become friends if we had met in high school..."

Kurt turned to glance at him, confused. "What makes you say that?"

Blaine wasn't sure why he had said that, actually. Why would he and Kurt ever have become friends? Blaine hadn't had any real friends, so what would have made Kurt the exception? It was just a stupid assumption...

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just have the feeling it would've happened."

Kurt hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing more about it. After a few moments of silence, both having come back to their respective activities, Kurt spoke up again. "Why did you stay in Ohio instead of going somewhere else?"

It was a little weird that it was Kurt trying to keep the conversation alive, but it sent a thrill down Blaine's spine for some reason. "I'm not really sure. I guess I didn't have anywhere else I wanted to go."

"There's always somewhere else to go," Kurt murmured, quietly.

Blaine tilted his head to the side. "Then why did you come back here?"

He knew it was the wrong question to ask when the muscles in Kurt's back, covered in a tight white shirt, tensed visibly. Blaine held his breath, completely convinced that this would be the moment where everything would go to hell, where Kurt would snap at him, and go back to being the guy he'd been since that first day.

Instead, silence spread between them, suffocating. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, but Blaine didn't dare try to breathe normally, scared he would waste the last bit of oxygen left.

When a few minutes passed without Kurt saying anything at all, Blaine thought he was just going to ignore him. Blaine bit his lip, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Everything had been going so well...

"Because I had to," Kurt finally answered, in barely a whisper.

Blaine didn't know why, but the way Kurt said those words made his heart ache.

After that, their conversations stayed on trivial topics for a few days. Blaine was afraid of asking the wrong question again, and Kurt clearly had no interest in telling him more, or in knowing more about Blaine. So they simply stayed on safe ground, commenting on something they had seen on the news the previous night, or going over details for the plans Blaine had for the bookshop.

It was a Wednesday, and Blaine was showing Kurt some samples of paint he had gotten, asking his opinion of the colors. Kurt studied them carefully.

"I like this one," he said, pointing to a deep red paint. "It's a really good brand of paint and the color will look good with the wooden floors once we take the carpet off."

"I would really like to paint the kids section in a different color, though," Blaine muttered thoughtfully. "Maybe a dark blue with stars? So it would look like a night sky?"

Kurt nodded. "That's a good idea. Kids like that crap. You can hang some planet models from the ceiling, too..."

"Oh, that would look amazing!" Blaine almost clapped his hands in his enthusiasm.

Kurt rolled his eyes with a chuckle, and monumentally failed to look annoyed. "Calm down, Blaine. It's for the kids, not for you..."

Blaine immediately reached for his computer to log onto eBay to see if he could find some models of planets there, as Kurt walked away to return to his own work. But, within a few steps, he stopped and turned to look at him again, curiosity clear in his eyes – eyes that today looked green instead of blue, but just as stunning as when Blaine had seen him for the first time.

"Why a bookshop?"

Blaine glanced up from the screen, where he was waiting for the computer to start. His confusion must have shown in his face. "What do you mean?"

Kurt shrugged, as if he didn't really care. "You know, you said you really liked your job at Dalton. You're already a librarian, you already spend every day surrounded by books. Why not something else? Why a bookshop?"

Blaine realized this was the first real inquisitive question Kurt had ever asked, the first time he seemed to genuinely want to know something about him, something that wasn't a response to a conversation started by him.

"Well..." Blaine wanted to give him an honest answer. He didn't just want to say that he liked books, like he had told most people who had asked why he was doing this. "It was my dream when I was a little boy, but then I guess that I sort of forgot about it until very recently. You know how life sort of gets in the way?" He made a gesture to convey it didn't matter, but it did. No one should have to forget about their dreams because you have other things to worry about while you're growing up. Like bullies and lack of friends. "I decided to become a librarian because it was pretty close, but without the risk of starting your own business. I just always have wanted to be surrounded by books, because there's something so comforting about being surrounded by so many stories, so many possible happy endings, so many stories sadder than yours..."

There was something in Kurt's eyes, a different light, something that hadn't been there before. Blaine couldn't tell what it was, but he didn't want it to go out.

"I thought about it every now and then, but first I was in college and I couldn't afford to open my own business, and then I got the job at Dalton, and it seemed unattainable," Blaine continued. "And then, a couple of months ago..." he could feel his throat constricting before he even tried to say the words. How could it still affect him so much? "A couple of months ago, my Dad died..."

Kurt moved forward abruptly in a knee-jerk reaction, just a few inches, but Blaine caught it anyway. He stopped dead in his tracks, wrapping his arms around himself, and for a moment, for a crazy moment, Blaine wondered if Kurt had almost rushed to him to pull him into a hug.

"Blaine, I ..." Kurt muttered, a little breathlessly. His voice was softer, higher in pitch than he had ever heard it before. "That's terrible..."

Blaine's lips curled up slightly, noticing that Kurt didn't say he was sorry for Blaine's loss. He had to be the first person who hadn't since his father's death. It was kind of refreshing. "It was. It is, still, sometimes, especially for my Mom... but, you know, life goes on, I guess?" After a few seconds, Kurt gave him the briefest of nods, as if inviting him to continue. "The thing is... he left me some money, and I thought this was the perfect way to spend it. I mean... he died very suddenly, and it made me think, what am I waiting for?" He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe his own words. He looked down at his hands, tangled together in his lap. "I've played it safe my whole life, and it just didn't make sense anymore. Maybe this isn't a huge risk; maybe this isn't the biggest change I could make, but... It's the only dream I've ever known and I have to follow it, wherever it takes me..." He paused. The perfectly suited quote popped into his head, so he recited it: "I think that one of these days you're going to have to find out where you want to go. And then –..."

"...you've got to start going there."

Blaine looked up, shocked, as Kurt finished the quote for him. Something tugged loose inside of Blaine's chest, then it twirled, jumped, twitched, spasmed. He seemed to have lost the ability to both breathe and talk at the same time. "You..."

"That was one of my favorite quotes when I was in high school," Kurt explained softly. "I think I even wrote it on construction paper and hung it in my locker."

"You likedThe Catcher in the Ryetoo?" Blaine asked, curiously. He had never in his life found someone who could quote that book by heart like he could.

"Of course, it's a classic," Kurt replied, as if it wasn't a big deal, but the way Blaine was staring at him must have affected him somehow, because a slight blush appeared in his face. "I think I was the only one in my English class who actually enjoyed the book. I really loved that line that says that all morons hate it when you call them a moron, because I was constantly surrounded by them and, let me tell you, theyreallydidn't like it when I pointed it out."

Blaine smiled. He couldn't really do anything else. He smiled, with all his heart, as he stared at this man who seemed to be full of surprises.

Kurt bit his lip, clearly a little bit surprised that he had opened up like that, and broke the eye contact, before shrugging once again. "So... good for you. That you decided to finally do this," he turned to get back to work. "But you know, for future reference, I'm not going to ask you about anything else, because that was one hell of a long answer."

Blaine couldn't stop himself from laughing wholeheartedly, because there was a hint of a smile on Kurt's lips, and because, for the first time in a very, very long time, he felt like he actually had a reason to.

Blaine had loathed Friday nights since he'd been in high school. People around him were always making plans to meet with friends, go to parties, have fun, while Blaine Anderson, with his thick-rimmed glasses and his patterned bowties, always stayed at home, with a pile of books next to his bed, reading until three in the morning and pretending the tears blotting the pages were because of what he was reading and not because of how lonely he was.

Now, an adult, he still felt particularly lonely on Friday nights. He hated driving home and seeing other people going the opposite way, to have dinner at restaurants, to go out on dates, while waiting for him at home was still that pile of books, with the addition of a bottle of beer and maybe some leftover dinner.

He felt pathetic, but he had never known how to change that.

That was probably why, reluctant to go to his empty apartment, he stayed at the bookshop. Once Kurt was done for the day, Blaine went to the Lima Bean for a Medium Drip and a blueberry muffin, and then came back, locked the door behind him and went to the backroom to start sorting through some of the boxes of books that had already arrived from several publishing houses, deciding to group them by genre so it would be easier to stock them once he installed the shelves. He sat on the floor, opening one box after the other, sipping his coffee and taking bites from the muffin, as he examined every single book with absorbed interest.

He usually preferred old books (they came with two stories: the one inside the pages, and the one that had to do with the history of the book itself), but there was also something wonderful about new books, too: the way they smelled, the way the covers shone in the light, how exciting it was to know that no one had yet discovered the adventures waiting inside, and wondering who would get to do it, and how it would affect them...

Blaine wondered if anyone else ever thought about books the same way he did.

He didn't stay as long as he would have liked to – he did have to drive all the way back home to Westerville, so after a couple of the boxes were sorted, he grabbed his empty cup, his satchel, his computer, and his keys, and made his way out of the book store.

Blaine was soon very grateful that he had decided to leave while it was still relatively early, because after driving a short way, he discovered his car was making strange noises. He frowned and listened intently, but he knew nothing about cars and had no idea what exactly was wrong.

As if it had been predestined, Blaine took a turn onto a street he had never been to before, to avoid traffic in case there was something really wrong with the car – and the first thing he saw was an auto repair shop.

It was late, so in case it was about to close, Blaine hurried to park in the lot. Two employees walked out as he pulled in, making their way home. Blaine growled anxiously. He hoped he wouldn't be stuck in Lima for the night. He really didn't want to make his mother drive all the way here to pick him up, and he obviously had no one else to call.

He got out of the car. The shop seemed empty, but he knew someone had to still be there because the lights were still on. "Hello?" He called tentatively, walking towards the counter.

"Just a minute, please!" A voice said from behind the door of what Blaine could only assume was an office. Just a few seconds later, a tall man in a blue coverall liberally covered in grease and wearing a baseball cap with the Buckeyes logo in it appeared behind the counter. "Hi, how can I help you?"

Blaine smiled politely. "Hi. I'm so sorry for coming at such a late hour, but I was driving back home and my car started making a really weird noise and I thought it'd be better to have it checked..."

"What kind of noise was it making?" The man asked kindly, as he followed Blaine back to his car.

Blaine did his best to explain how it had sounded, hoping he wasn't looking like an idiot in front of this stranger, who patted his back in a friendly manner.

"I'll take care of it, buddy, don't worry."

"Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it," Blaine breathed in relief.

"No problem. It's what I do."

For a few minutes, Blaine watched the man as he checked over the car, looking for the source of the noise Blaine had described. Blaine stayed at one side, trying not to get in the way. He did his best to answer all the questions the man had about the last time he had the car checked, and when he had changed the oil, and a million other things.

Just as the mechanic identified the problem, someone walked into the shop.

"Dad! Are you working late again? Carole has dinner ready and we're all waiting for you back at the..."

Blaine's shocked expression mirrored Kurt's as he abruptly stopped talking when he realized who his – apparently father's – late staying customer was.

"I know, I know. It'll only take me ten more minutes to finish here, I promise," Kurt's dad answered. "You can tell Carole I'll be there soon, Kurt."

"Kurt?" Blaine said, finally regaining the ability to speak.

It wasn't that shocking to find Kurt at an autoshop in Lima – after all, he lived there, and there was no reason why his father couldn't be a mechanic. That was all perfectly normal. What had actually shocked Blaine right to his core, was how different Kurt looked.

The usual worn jeans and tight white or black short sleeved V-neck had disappeared (so had the toolbelt, Blaine noted absurdly). There was no sign of the black combat boots either, and even Kurt's hair looked different, impeccably styled instead of carelessly falling to frame his face. His clothes were simply mesmerizing, so perfectly combined that the outfit had to have been meticulously planned. The black pants Kurt was wearing were so tight that they could've been painted on, matched with a white button down with studs along the collar, and a snuggly fitted grey vest. He was wearing black ankle boots and a brooch on the left side of his vest, a pair of scissors with a little chain in it.

Kurt shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at Blaine's close scrutiny. "W-what are you doing here, Blaine?"

"You two know each other?" The older man asked curiously, as he returned to Blaine's car.

"Y-yeah, I'm working for him," Kurt answered, and he was avoiding Blaine's eyes. "Uhm. Dad, this is Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is my father, Burt Hummel."

Blaine was able to shake himself out of his daze long enough to remember his manners, offering his hand to Burt. "Very nice to officially meet you, sir."

"Same here, buddy," Burt said. "This will take just a few minutes. You can sit there, if you want," he added, pointing towards some plastic chairs lined against a wall to form sort of a waiting area.

Blaine nodded and walked in that direction. Kurt sighed heavily and followed.

"Did you come track me down here on purpose?" Kurt asked, staring down at Blaine once he had sat down.

Blaine's eyes widened in confusion. "No? My car was acting up and I was driving by, so I decided to stop and have it checked." He blinked, fixing Kurt with a worried glance. "Is everything okay?"

"You're not supposed to be here," Kurt replied softly, blue eyes falling down to stare at his boots. "T-this is... and my dad is... and I look like..."

Blaine could tell this was difficult for Kurt, even if he didn't understand why, so he smiled encouragingly. "Well, you look really good, if that helps at all. Your shirt is great. Is it designer?"

"McQueen," Kurt breathed absently. He ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "Look, Blaine, I..." He bit his lip, at a loss for words. "I don't do this."

"Do what?" Blaine was even more confused.

"This," Kurt gestured at himself. Blaine could tell he was beginning to get irritated. "Allow people to see me like this, dressed like this."

"Why not?" Blaine tilted his head to the side appraisingly. "You look fantastic."

Kurt's breath seemed to catch in his throat for the briefest of moments, but he shook his head. "Because I can't. It's complicated. And I... I-I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this."

"Hey, come on," Blaine stood up when Kurt turned to leave, having clearly decided to just abandon him there at the autoshop. "I told you, you can be whoever you want..."

"That's just in your stupid book store!" Kurt exclaimed, a little louder than he intended, if the way he flinched was any indication. He closed his eyes, then looked back to see if his dad was watching them. "I can be whoever I want in your bookshop, and not completely even then. And at my house, and my parents' house. But that's it. Because the rest of the world doesn't want to seeme. The real me. They know who I am, they knowwhatI am, but they don't want to see me showing it..."

Blaine reached instinctively for Kurt's wrist, closing his fingers around it. "Kurt... are you saying that you..."

"I do what I have to do to survive in the outside world, but..." Kurt took a deep quivering breath, and for a moment Blaine was convinced he was about to cry. "But when I'm in my own world, I just want to be myself. And I can't have you walking into it like this. I can't let you or anyone else past the boundaries I set a long time ago..."

"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured softly. "I didn't know, Kurt. I didn't know this was your dad's shop. I only stopped here because I wasn't sure the car would make it home safely. I... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable in any way..."

Kurt pulled his arm free from Blaine's grip. "I know. I just... I just need to make sure that... that when I go back to work on Monday, you won't mention this." He looked right into Blaine's eyes, almost challenging him. "Can you do that for me? Pretend you didn't see me here today?"

Blaine wanted to know why. He really wanted to know why Kurt was asking him to forget that when he was himself, Kurt was absolutely, breathtakingly, overwhelmingly beautiful. He already was unfairly attractive on a daily basis, but here, now? Like this? Kurt's beauty could almost make Blaine's heart stop.

But he couldn't say no. If this was what Kurt wanted, Blaine would do it.

And in that very second, the strangest thought crossed Blaine's mind. He suspected that if Kurt asked, there was nothing he wouldn't do...

"Of course, if that's what you want," he agreed softly. He wanted to reach for his hand again, but he didn't.

Kurt nodded, his eyes falling. "Thank you," he said, in just a whisper. He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. "Dad, I'll see you back at the house. You have five minutes before Carole comes here to get you herself!"

"Yeah, yeah, kiddo, I know," Burt exclaimed from under the hood where he was still working on Blaine's car.

Kurt's gaze flashed back to Blaine for a moment. "I'll see you on Monday."

Blaine parted his lips to reply, but Kurt had spun on his heels and dashed out of the shop already. He found himself staring after him, his fingers tingling where they had been pressed against the skin of Kurt's wrist.

"So you're Kurt's new boss."

Blaine startled, not expecting Burt's voice to be so close. The man was standing right next to him. "I... yeah."

Burt continued, gruffly. "He tells me you're the first guy he's ever worked for who treats him like a human being."

Blaine turned to Burt, a little surprised. "Really?"

With a short nod, Burt put his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "He's had a rough go, for a very long time now. I think he's forgotten people can actually be nice. Thank you for reminding him of that."

Blaine was left open mouthed in surprise. He stared at this man, who looked so tough on the outside, but Blaine could already tell he had a heart of gold. He was visibly relieved that his son was catching a break from whatever it was that had been making Kurt's life so rough. Blaine tried to find the right words to say, but he couldn't find any.

For someone who read so much, who had always found comfort in words, Blaine seemed to find himself speechless a lot when he was around Kurt, or talking about him.

Burt cleared his throat, his hand falling off Blaine's shoulder. "Your car just needed some brake fluid. You were very wise to stop and have it checked. It could've been dangerous to keep driving it like that."

"I'm glad I did, then," Blaine reached for his wallet. "So how much is it?"

Burt shook his head. "Nothing, bud."

"What? Mr. Hummel, I can't accept – ..."

"Sure you can," Burt insisted, gently pushing away the bills Blaine was trying to hand to him. "You just keep being decent to my son, and that'll be enough payment for me."

"But..."

"Blaine, I mean it."

Blaine knew it was a lost cause so, reluctantly, he put his wallet back in his pocket. "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it," Burt handed Blaine his keys back, and walked behind the counter to turn off the lights. "Have a nice weekend, buddy."

Blaine offered him a small smile. "You too, Mr. Hummel."

By the time Blaine finally made it back to his apartment, his head was so full of confusing thoughts swirling around that they pretty much made up for the lack of company.