Weekends didn't mean rest for Kurt. Those were the busiest days, though he knew (and his father was insisting, too) that he would have to choose a day to keep the store closed before his body exploded in exhaustion. That's why, regretfully, but knowing it was his best choice, he decided to keep the bakery closed on Sundays.

The first free Sunday, he woke up early, feeling tempted to go downstairs and open anyway. So, to keep himself away from temptation, he put on his best pair of exercise pants and a hoodie and decided to go for a run.

There was a park he really liked that he hadn't gone to in a while, but as it was at a considerable distance, he drove there. It was a sunny day, even though the weather was getting colder and colder. Soon, the town was going to be covered in snow and the first Christmas decorations would appear. Kurt started thinking about the Thanksgiving break, which was closer, as he parked the car and grabbed his iPod from the passenger's seat. He was looking forward to the holidays. He would stay with his family and enjoy a couple of days of nothing but relaxing with family and friends. He cherished the moments he spent helping Carole in the kitchen or sitting next to Burt and Finn on the couch as they screamed at the TV because of some football game he would never understand. Those were the things he missed the most about being independent, not having them around more often, not enjoying those little everyday things he used to have back in high school, when Burt and Carole had just gotten married.

He started running, loving the way his muscles stretched and worked together. He had been too busy to exercise lately, but he missed it. He loved the way it allowed his mind to empty of any unnecessary thoughts, how liberating it was.

The park was pretty much empty at that time of the morning. There was an old couple sitting on a wooden bench having a cup of tea and letting the steam from the cups warm their faces. There was another woman, a few years older than him, stretching next to a tree and random people passing by, but it was quiet and Kurt appreciated that. He rarely got any moments of calm in his life, especially since opening Ellie's.

He was wondering to himself what he would do with his free time, thinking maybe he could drive back to Lima and visit his dad, when he accidentally dropped his iPod and he had to stop running to pick it up. Frowning, he checked it wasn't broken, which fortunately it didn't seem to be.

The next thing he knew, a dog was trying to lick his face and, in his attempt to stay away from him, Kurt fell back on his butt.

"Robert!" A voice called, sharply, making the dog look up behind Kurt and wag his tail happily. "Bad boy! Don't do that! Are you okay? I'm so sorry…"

Kurt lift his head to see Blaine looking down at him with concern, and then with a bit of surprise, too. "You didn't say you had a dog."

"Kurt!" Blaine smiled as he reached for Robert's leash. The dog was a mutt, with shaggy hair in shades of black and light brown, big expressive eyes and funny ears that seemed way too big for his head. He kept wagging his tail, looking between Kurt and Blaine with interest. "Hi…"

"Hi," Kurt answered, wiping his face with his sleeve. He instantly regretted being sweaty and wearing such unfashionable clothes.

Blaine extended a hand to him. "Here, let me help you," he pulled him to his feet and then reluctantly let go of Kurt's hand. "I'm really sorry. My dog is a bit… enthusiastic, I guess."

"It's fine, don't worry," Kurt petted the dog's head, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"Walking him," Blaine explained. Kurt then took a moment to actually look at Blaine and felt a rush of relief when he noticed Blaine was wearing clothes similar to his and that his hair, normally gelled down, was now curly, unruly, adorable. "What about you?"

"Running. Though I think I might have broken my iPod and exercising without music isn't all that much fun," Kurt sighed.

"I have to agree with you," Blaine said. They started walking together, Blaine gripping Robert's leash tightly so he wouldn't run off again. "That's why I have a treadmill at home, so if my iPod breaks, I still have the stereo or the TV."

"That's very clever of you," Kurt nudged him with his shoulder, but stopped immediately, wondering if he was being flirty and if it was wrong. "I wish I had space at home. My apartment is on the small side."

"You can borrow mine whenever you want," Blaine said easily, making him seem so much more relaxed than the other times Kurt had seen him. Maybe weekends were good for Blaine. Maybe he just needed to stay away from work. They stayed quiet in companionable silence for a few minutes, just walking around the park, until Blaine spoke again. "Kurt, I… I really want to thank you, for the other night…"

"Don't even mention it, really," Kurt grinned at him warmly. He decided to change the subject to show Blaine he didn't really need to thank him for it. "What do you do on your free days?"

Blaine shrugged. "I walk Robert, I read, sometimes I go out and grab a bite somewhere. I don't know, nothing special…"

Kurt wondered if Blaine had anyone he could rely on, anyone he could call a friend, anyone he really trusted enough to be himself with. He seriously doubted it. "Would you like to do something? I'm free, too," he said before he could change his mind, or before his courage disappeared.

"Yes!" Blaine answered, way too quickly. Both their cheeks flushed and they avoided each other's eyes. Blaine cleared his throat. "I mean, sure, if you don't have anything better to do…"

"No, of course not," Kurt assured him. "So… what would you like to do?"

"Coffee? There's a Starbucks a few blocks away," Blaine suggested, thoughtfully.

"That sounds perfect," Kurt almost moaned at the mention of caffeine. He hadn't had any yet and he was starting to need it. He looked down at himself. "I wish I had brought clothes to change into."

"You're fine, stop worrying," Blaine said brightly, and Kurt realized it was the first time he had heard him talking in such a light tone. "It's a lazy Sunday, no one is going to expect to see you wearing a suit or anything."

"I guess," Kurt tugged on the sleeves of his hoodie, unconsciously, anyway, and Blaine, impulsively, took his hand in his.

"I mean it, you look good just the way you are right now," and after a quick squeeze, he let go, leaving Kurt feeling strangely dizzy.

When they got to Starbucks, Blaine tied Robert's leash to a lamppost and patted his head affectionately. They walked into the store and got in line. It was pretty crowded for a Sunday morning and Kurt eyed the cookies and muffins critically.

"I know this isn't as good as what you bake, but at least you don't have to do it yourself," Blaine said. "And, by the way, I'm still dreaming about that red velvet cake you gave me the other day."

"I may make another one tonight, so if you want to come by the bakery tomorrow…" Kurt teased, and stopped as soon as he realized that he was flirting again. He wanted to slap himself in the face.

"Oh, I definitely will," Blaine smiled. "I have a trial tomorrow, so I may not be at the office all day, but I'm sure I can find a moment to visit you."

"I'll save a piece for you if you can't come by," Kurt answered as he stepped forward to the counter, where the cashier greeted him with a smile. "Hi! Can I get a grande non-fat mocha, please?"

"Sure, your name?" She asked, Sharpie ready in her hand to write on the paper cup.

"Kurt," he replied.

"That'd be three dollars and fifty cents," the cashier said.

"It's on me," Blaine muttered, moving next to Kurt and putting a hand on his arm to keep him from reaching for his wallet. "I'd like a medium drip, please."

"Name?"

"Blaine," he slid ten bucks towards her, who gave him the change and they moved to wait for their drinks.

"You didn't have to pay," Kurt protested.

"Of course I did, you were more than generous with me the other night, so it was only fair," Blaine smiled gently at him.

"I didn't do it so you would feel you owed me anything…" with a frown, Kurt stood waiting for his coffee, watching the barista mix the ingredients.

"I know. I don't care," Blaine replied.

It was weird, Kurt thought, seeing Blaine smiling so much. He seemed to be always so uncomfortable, so out of his element, so guarded… but now he pretty much felt he had known the other man all his life. It was nice seeing this side of Blaine. Kurt only wished it would come to the surface more often.

Kurt sighed. "Thanks, Blaine."

They picked up their drinks and went outside to get Robert, who was waiting for them anxiously and wagged his tail even more excited than before when he saw them.

"I didn't think you were the dog kind," Kurt admitted as Blaine untied the dog's leash and Robert started walking in front of them, restricted by the leash just enough.

"Neither did I," Blaine shrugged. "I found him in the streets. He was almost run over by a car and he seemed really scared. He wasn't a puppy anymore, he was probably six, seven months old, so if a pound would have taken him…" he did an unpleasant face, as if just thinking about it was bad enough. "So I took him home."

"That was really nice of you," Kurt watched as the dog sniffed the base of a tree.

"He's really grateful, like he knows what I did for him," Blaine brushed a few curls that had fallen on his forehead back. "And he's great company."

"I have a cat, her name is Brownie."

Blaine chuckled. "That's adorable."

"It's definitely better than Robert," Kurt laughed, nudging him with his elbow.

"Shut up, I have my reasons," Blaine said, and when he blushed a bit, Kurt felt the sudden desire to kiss him, which he shook off immediately.

"Do tell," Kurt sipped his coffee, which wasn't that easy to do when he couldn't stop grinning.

"I'm not telling you," Blaine pretended to be offended as they stopped at a corner and waited to cross the street. "You're mocking me and my dog."

They returned to the park and walked around under the trees, stopping every now and then so Robert could run, stretch his legs and chase pigeons. Blaine had asked Kurt about his family, so he was telling him all about Burt and his tire shop, which made Blaine smile when he remembered the picture of a very small Kurt with coveralls.

"What about your mom? Is she as awesome as your dad sounds?" Blaine asked as they both sat down at a wooden bench, watching Robert running around in circles to chase his own tail, evidently tired of the pigeons.

"My mom passed away when I was eight," Kurt spoke with a calm voice, but even after all those years, he still felt a pang of pain in his heart when he talked about it.

"Oh my… Kurt, I'm so sorry," Blaine's hand found its way to Kurt's and gripped it tightly, as if he needed to show Kurt that he was right there.

Kurt discovered the pain wasn't as sharp as he felt Blaine's palm pressed against the back of his hand. He took a deep breath before turning his hand around and letting their fingers slot together. Blaine seemed surprised by it, but didn't pull away. He squeezed instead.

"Don't worry, you didn't know," Kurt smiled at him. "She was really young and it still makes me sad to think about it, but… she was happy, while she was with us, so I guess it could be much worse." He focused on the warmth spreading from Blaine's hand into his. "It was a car accident. I remember going to school one morning and she kissed me goodbye, and when I came back, she just wasn't there anymore. My dad was waiting for me and I could tell he had been crying and I couldn't understand why dad was home so early. Usually I would get home and my mom would help me with my homework and then we'd play. She loved to play with me and she didn't judge me when I wanted to play with things that other people considered girly."

Blaine swallowed as he stared at Kurt, who had his gaze down on their intertwined hands. His profile was pale and sad, but so stunning that he couldn't look away.

"She taught me how to bake and we would do it every Sunday. Every Sunday we would try something new from her recipe book," Kurt let a watery smile form on his lips. "Her name was Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth…" Blaine repeated, in barely a whisper. "So… you named your bakery after her? Ellie's?"

"Yes," Kurt simply nodded. "I miss her every day, but baking makes me feel closer, as if she was somewhere near me when I'm working in the kitchen. I know it's ridiculous, but…"

"It's not," Blaine interrupted, his voice low and intense. "It's not ridiculous, Kurt, it makes perfect sense."

Kurt wiped the tears that had fallen to his cheeks without him noticing as he chuckled nervously. "I… I don't really talk about her."

"Maybe you should," Blaine said softly, and his thumb started unconsciously stroking Kurt's. "Talking about her will help you keep the memories fresh. If you keep everything to yourself, you'll eventually forget."

"My dad and I sometimes talk about her, but… I can tell it's too painful for him," Kurt shook his head. "He got married again when I was a junior in high school. I love my step-mom and my step-brother, and he does, too, but something will always be missing."

"I like to hear about her, so if you ever need to talk…" Blaine let the words hang in the air, hoping Kurt would understand.

"I'd like that, thank you," Kurt said, with another squeeze of his hand, and with that, they both realized they had been holding hands for a few minutes now and how strangely natural it had felt… Blaine pulled away, unconsciously glancing around as if he was waiting for a hoard of homophobes to come beat them up.

Robert chose that moment to return, sitting in front of Blaine and putting a paw on his knee.

"Hey buddy," Blaine said, scratching behind his ears.

Kurt felt sort of vulnerable after talking about his mom and he was scared Blaine was going to go back home now and leave him alone. He didn't want to be alone now, and that was a bit weird, because he had always dealt better with his feelings when he had no one around. But right now, he needed Blaine, and he felt stupid for it, but he couldn't help it.

"I should take him home, he's probably hungry," Blaine said then, and Kurt felt himself deflate like an old balloon.

"Oh, right," he muttered softly.

"Would you like to, uhm, come with me? We could go have lunch later," Blaine proposed, awkwardly. He nudged Kurt with his shoulder, trying to look playful. "I'll let you use my treadmill."

Kurt actually laughed at that and then looked at Blaine gratefully. "Sure, I'd love to."

Blaine's building was just a couple of streets down, so they walked there, both immersed in a comfortable silence. It was a really nice building, the tallest one in that street and it emanated a sense of elegance and status. It was located in the best part of Columbus and Kurt looked up at it quite impressed. Blaine, however, guided him inside without showing any sort of emotion.

"Good morning, Mr. Anderson," a man opened the door for them with a polite smile on his face.

"Good morning, Victor," Blaine answered and he was about to head to the row of elevators when he stopped. "Do you need my friend to sign so he can come in?"

Kurt, who was admiring the shiny floors and the impeccable decoration, turned to Blaine, curiously.

"I think he'll be fine since he's coming in with you, Mr. Anderson," the man nodded at Kurt by way of greeting and Kurt smiled, shyly.

"Fine. We shouldn't take long anyway, I'm just taking my dog back to my apartment," Blaine pushed the button for the elevator, which opened immediately. It was big with polished walls and the typically annoying music sounded from the speakers over their heads. "Sorry about that," Blaine said when the doors closed behind them and the elevator started going up. "There's a strict policy about visitors in this building. Most of my neighbors are quite selective about what kind of people come and go."

"Sounds like you have really fun neighbors," Kurt muttered, nudging him with his shoulder and managing to elicit a little smile on Blaine's lips.

"I really don't know any of them," Blaine answered as he watched the numbers changed above the doors.

"How long have you lived here?" Kurt asked.

"About three years," Blaine patted Robert's head, who kept wagging his tail and looking adoringly at Kurt with his huge expressive eyes. "When I finished college I moved back here to work at my father's firm."

"Where did you go to college?" Kurt suddenly realized he knew next to nothing about Blaine. Yes, he was a lawyer. Yes, he was gay. Yes, his relationship with his father was complicated. But, what else was there? Who was Blaine Anderson?

"Harvard," Blaine replied as the doors opened, with the same nonchalance as if he had just said community college. He stepped out of the elevator.

"Harvard? Whoa, Blaine, that's really impressive," Kurt smiled, but when Blaine didn't return the gesture, he felt awkward.

"Thank you," he guided Kurt to the only door on the floor, and opened up with his key. Kurt immediately found himself inside of a huge apartment that looked a lot like an expensive hotel room, with minimalist decoration and lots of white and light beige shades in the furniture. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll feed Robert and then we can go."

"Okay," as Blaine went in what Kurt assumed was the direction of the kitchen, he moved towards the window. Blaine probably lived on the highest floor and the view was really nice. He could see the park where they had just been and the people wandering around the streets, starting their Sunday routines. He noticed a white piano in a corner and wondered if it was there for decorating purposes only or if Blaine could play. On a book case near to it there were several books, only a few of them related to law. The rest were fictional books, most of them classic authors like Oscar Wilde or Charles Dickens. Kurt picked up The Ballad of Reading Gaol randomly, and he observed how worn the book looked. It was obvious Blaine had read it lots of times.

After a few more glances around, it became evident to Kurt that there weren't any pictures of Blaine's family or any of his friends or even of himself in different moments of his life. When looking at the room with more attention, Kurt realized that, except for a couple of books that looked as if they had been read more than once, the apartment resembled a hotel room: impersonal, too clean, everything right where it belong. It was as if no one lived there permanently.

He put the book back in its place and followed the quiet sounds of Robert and Blaine to the kitchen. When he got there, he stood at the doorway, mouth hanging open.

"Oh, whoa, this is one hell of a kitchen," Kurt muttered before he could stop himself.

It was huge. It looked way too big even for him. Who could use all those marble countertops and all those shiny appliances? Once again, everything looked pretty much untouched.

"I don't really know how to cook," Blaine shrugged, leaning against one of the countertops and waiting for Robert's bowl to fill with water. "I can fix a few things, but I don't really use any of this."

"That's a shame," Kurt ran his fingers over the counter. "I could do wonders with a kitchen like this."

"I don't doubt that," Blaine gave him a tiny, genuine smile as he put Robert's water on the floor next to the dog, who started drinking eagerly. "Would you like something to eat or drink or…?"

"No, no, I'm fine, thanks," Kurt walked to where Blaine was standing and leaned next to him on the counter. He thought he felt Blaine tensing slightly by the proximity, but he immediately relaxed, both of them looking down at the dog as he finished eating. "But you have to let me come cook something here one day. It's a pity that a kitchen like this isn't being taking advantage of."

"Well, I'm not going to be stupid enough to deny you access to it if it means I get to try more of your delicious food," Blaine turned his head to grin directly at him and they were suddenly close, closer than they have ever been, their faces inches apart, their shoulders brushing, the heat of their bodies flowing through the layers of clothing and the air in the kitchen.

Blaine found himself briefly looking down at Kurt's lips, just a flick of hazel eyes and then back up and away, away from Kurt's face, because it was too much and kissing Kurt Hummel right then and there wasn't a good idea. It was the worst idea. Just as letting himself get close to Kurt was a bad idea.

He cleared his throat and used Robert as an excuse to get away from Kurt, leaning down to pick up the dog's empty bowls and put them in the dishwasher. Robert wagged his tail and left the kitchen, his paws clicking against the floor.

"So, what would you like to do?" Kurt asked, feigning ignorance. The way the mood had shifted between them in a matter of seconds was almost tangible, but he decided against commenting about it.

Blaine took a few seconds to breathe in and out, pretending to be busy with the dishwasher before turning around to face Kurt again. "Whatever you want, really, I don't care."

Kurt considered for a moment telling him that it was okay if Blaine wanted to be alone, if he wanted Kurt to go, but then something was pulling at him, something he didn't recognize, something that told him to stay with Blaine for a little while longer. "Well, I would really like to change my clothes, so… we could go to my place? I can make us some lunch."

After a little pause, Blaine smiled weakly at him. Something about Kurt made him want to break out of the shell he had built around himself all those years ago. He knew it wasn't safe, he knew it was stupid, but it was too strong, too intense to ignore it. "Once again, you use your cooking skills to convince me. I'm in."

Blaine wanted to take a shower and change his clothes, too, so Kurt stayed in the living room, playing with Robert, who kept bringing him an old tennis ball for him to throw. Kurt took the chance to glance around Blaine's apartment a bit more, and the more he was there, especially on his own, the more oppressive it felt. There was nothing home-y about that place and he thought back to Blaine's eagerness to stay at the bakery a few days ago. He could understand why now. It probably wasn't very nice to come home to this solitude, to this space that was nothing but furniture and walls and things that seemed to have nothing to do with Blaine. Kurt himself lived alone, but when he was in his tiny apartment, he was surrounded by his life and his memories and all the things he loved. The sensation of being in a hotel room more than being at someone's home hit him again. It felt very weird.

"I'm ready," Blaine came back into the living room, carrying with him a wonderful scent of shampoo and soap that made Kurt inhale sharply. He had put jeans on and a black sweater with turtle neck that made him look fantastic. Kurt silently approved of his outfit choices.

They agreed on going in separate cars so Blaine could return to his apartment later without having to ask Kurt for a ride. So he drove Kurt to the park first so he could get his own vehicle, and then followed him to the already familiar bakery.

Blaine forced himself not to glance at his office window. He kept his back to the building in front of the store as Kurt parked his car and looked for his keys in his pocket. Instead of going to the glass doors of the bakery, which was now dark and deserted, he went to the door right next to the store and opened it to reveal nothing but stairs. They climbed them and Blaine suddenly found himself in the cutest, tiniest apartment he had ever seen. He looked around with the same curiosity Kurt had shown back in his place, but the difference was that just coming into the messy, small living room slash kitchen slash dining room felt like coming home. One step inside, one second there and Blaine felt more at home that he had ever felt in his own apartment in three years.

"Kurt… this is absolutely beautiful," Blaine muttered, eyes wide, as a little smile tugged on his lips. There were pictures everywhere, and books, and piles of fashion magazines, and a small table in the corner with a sewing machine on it with something that looked a lot like a half done kilt.

"Thanks," Kurt smiled warmly. "I know it's not much, but I love it."

Brownie came purring from Kurt's bedroom, stretching and instantly going for Blaine's ankles, rubbing her face against them to claim his attention.

"Oh, hey, you must be Brownie," Blaine leaned down to pick her up, and the cat seemed obviously happy in his arms.

"She's a cuddle whore, so don't let her get too comfortable," Kurt laughed.

Just like Kurt hadn't been able to find any signs of Blaine's life in his apartment, Blaine felt like he could read every single minute of Kurt's in his. Everything was there in plain sight and Blaine almost felt like he was intruding.

Still, he was hungry for more. He discovered he wanted to know as much as he could about Kurt.

"I didn't know you could sew," he commented.

"I considered going to Fashion school for a while when I was in high school," Kurt shrugged. "I've always loved clothes."

Kurt observed Blaine as he slowly moved around the living room, taking everything in.

"I'll go take a shower now," he announced, moving towards his bedroom to grab some clean clothes. "You can look around and if you are thirsty or hungry, help yourself."

"Thanks," Blaine mumbled distractedly, as he studied Kurt's books.

Kurt took a moment to appreciate how good Blaine looked amongst his things, as if Blaine was the perfect piece to complete the puzzle that his life was.

Then he realized how ridiculous he sounded and left Blaine alone as he showered.

Blaine sat on the couch at first, scratching behind Brownie's ears as she purred contentedly, but then his curiosity took over, so he stood up again and started studying the pictures Kurt had scattered around the room. They were similar to the ones he had downstairs at the bakery. The same people appeared in them, mostly his dad. The same woman he had assumed was his mom was there, too, always with a young Kurt or pregnant. Blaine was surprised at how much they looked alike. But what he loved the most about those pictures was the look of absolute love Elizabeth Hummel had in each one. She had loved her son and Blaine didn't need to be a genius to see it. It was right there in those old photographs, clear as the light of day.

And God, Kurt was beautiful. Every single picture of him seemed to radiate warmth and love and happiness and Blaine had never in his life met someone like him. Kurt was generous and selfless and sweet. His eyes were gorgeous and his hair was perfect and every time Blaine was close, too close to him, he just wanted to reach out and wrap him in his arms, to know what it would feel like to touch that perfect skin, discover how bright would be the sparks their lips would create when they found each other in a kiss…

Blaine sighed, frustrated with himself. He couldn't fall in love with Kurt. He couldn't.

He placed the picture he had been looking at (one in which Kurt couldn't be more than seventeen years old and was clearly in some choir competition, since he was on a stage with a group of teenagers, all wearing the same clothes and looking completely ecstatic) back on the shelf where it originally was, when the bathroom door opened up and Kurt came back to the living room. Blaine turned around to look at him and immediately wanted to glance away, to keep his eyes from falling into such a vision. Kurt's pale face was flushed from the shower, his cheeks pink and adorable. His hair was a bit damp, but elegantly styled. He was wearing black jeans that were too skinny to be comfortable and a loose blue sweater, that left a bit of his collarbone in sight. Blaine felt his mouth watering and had to use all of his self-control to keep himself from kissing him.

It would be too easy to ruin this, whatever it was. And he was too afraid of ruining it, because it was the best thing that had happened to Blaine in his entire life.

"Hey," he said, a little out of breath, a little awkward.

Kurt smiled softly at him and, unfortunately for Blaine's wild heart beating too fast in his chest, he walked towards him. "What are you doing?"

"I was… uhm, I was just looking at your pictures," Blaine swallowed, trying not to concentrate too hard on how wonderful Kurt smelled, like flowers and clean and maybe coconut. "You have a lot of pictures."

"Yeah, I do," Kurt sighed, grinning lightly as he picked up the picture Blaine had just been holding. It was his mom, when she was pregnant with him, sitting under the shade of a tree during a picnic Burt and she had shared. She looked unbelievably happy. "This is my mom, Elizabeth. This was taken exactly one month before I was born, according to my dad."

"She was so beautiful, Kurt," Blaine said slowly, his eyes glued to the smiling woman again. "There's so much of her in you."

Kurt blushed, and so did Blaine, when they realized he had just told Kurt he was beautiful. "Thank you. My Dad says I remind him of her, too. I have her eyes."

"I can see that," Blaine could feel Kurt's gaze on him, but he stubbornly kept his on the picture.

There was a small pause. And then Kurt, whispered. "Wait here."

Kurt was gone before Blaine had the chance to ask him where he was going. He saw him go downstairs, the sound of his shoes against the wooden steps the only thing breaking the silence. The scent of coconut (and vanilla, too, Blaine noticed now that he allowed himself to inhale deeper) was left behind, as a sweet reminder of Kurt's presence.

But he was back not even a minute later, and he had a big book in his arms. He was cradling it as if it was a baby, tight against his chest. Blaine was still in the same spot where he had left him and Kurt smiled sweetly, extending a hand to him, like an invitation.

Blaine was taking it before his brain could tell him it was a bad idea, and his heart started beating even faster when Kurt's soft skin touched his. Kurt guided him back to the couch and they both sat together, Kurt scooting closer, maybe because Brownie was spread all over one end, maybe because he wanted to show Blaine something in the book, maybe because he wanted to be nearer.

Once they were seated, Blaine silently begging for Kurt not to hear his crazy heartbeat, Kurt put the book on his lap for him to a look at. It was an old recipe book.

"It belonged to my mom," Kurt explained, his finger caressing the cover gently. "We would always choose a recipe from this book on Sundays and try it. This is one of the few things I have from her. When she died, my dad was so sad he sold a lot of her stuff because it caused him too much pain to have it in the house. Most of her clothes, her magazines, everything. But he let me keep this. He knew how much it meant to me."

Blaine put a comforting hand on Kurt's back before realizing what he was doing, but once it was there, he didn't want to remove it.

"He always apologized to me for getting rid of everything, but I understand. I know it was too much for him, I remember how broken he was," a little tear started its way down Kurt's cheek. "And I have this. It's all I need."

Blaine wiped the tear away with his thumb, and perhaps his finger lingered a bit longer than necessary on Kurt's cheek, but at least when he moved back, Kurt was looking at him with a smile and he wasn't crying.

"Anyway," Kurt cleared his throat and tried to put the sadness away, "I just thought I would like to share it with you. Would you like to choose something? I could make it for you."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Blaine said instantly, shaking his head. "This is your free day, Kurt, I wouldn't want you to…"

"Blaine, come on, don't be ridiculous. Haven't we talked enough that you know how much I enjoy cooking?"

Blaine rolled his eyes and accepted the book that Kurt was trying to thrust into his hands. "Okay," he started flipping through the pages and he was very aware of Kurt's eyes glued on him again. Those blue eyes shouldn't burn his skin like this… "This sounds good."

"What a fantastic idea, don't you think, Brownie?" Kurt said as he stood up, scratching his cat's belly. "White chocolate brownies. One of my specialties."

"I think everything is your specialty at this point," Blaine leaned back against the couch and watched Kurt as he started roaming around the kitchen gathering everything he needed for the brownies.

"Of course it is," he answered, sending a little wink at Blaine, who blushed a bit, but managed to chuckle at the same time.

Kurt started working and it wasn't too long after that when he coerced Blaine to help him, even though Blaine told him that things could turn into a disaster very quickly. He asked Blaine to chop some almonds to put in the brownies and then, they both made a couple of salads for lunch. They sat together on the couch to eat, as the brownies were in the oven, and turned the TV on. There was a marathon of Friends episodes on, so they instantly agreed to watch it.

Salads were long gone, Friends long finished, the afternoon had slowly moved over them, and Blaine and Kurt were still sitting there together, occasionally talking, sometimes both completely silent, but always comfortable. Kurt talked a lot about his family, because Blaine asked him to. He was curious about them. About his mom, and his step-mom and his brother. About his dad, so caring and gentle and understanding. Kurt seemed hesitant at first, scared to say something that would make Blaine feel sad or awkward, but Blaine was eager to learn more and more. Later, they decided to watch a movie, and Blaine let Kurt pick because he didn't care anymore, because the proximity of the other man beside him on the same couch, in the same room, in the same world was enough for him. So Kurt chose Breakfast at Tiffany's and told him it was one of his favorite movies. Kurt served the brownies and Blaine made coffee and they watched it together. Every once in a while one of them would unconsciously move closer. Kurt made the final move until his head was resting on Blaine's shoulder and Blaine had thought it was intentional until he realized Kurt had fallen asleep.

Overwhelmed by how nice it felt to have someone cuddling him, someone looking for his warmth and breathing against his neck, Blaine wrapped an arm around him and let Kurt get comfortable pressed into his side. They fit so perfectly that Blaine felt like crying.

He stayed there, holding Kurt, even after the movie ended and the credits started rolling. He couldn't reach the remote so the DVD eventually returned to the menu and the music started playing over and over again. Kurt woke up about an hour later, and still sleepily, nuzzled against his neck. Blaine closed his eyes, loving the sensations Kurt elicited in him, but wanting to shut them off at the same time. Kurt was so beautiful and so dangerous and he had known that since the first time he had seen him.

"Oh, God, Blaine, I'm so sorry!" Kurt exclaimed embarrassed when he realized what he had been doing.

"Don't worry, you just fell asleep," Blaine forced himself to smile at him.

"Yes, but I was pretty much assaulting your neck," Kurt laughed nervously, stood up, stretched, his arms up his head. When he straightened up, his sweater moved a little and one of his shoulders ended up exposed. Blaine gulped at the sight of the beautiful skin and his lips ached to kiss him there, desperate to know if that could make Kurt shiver, if that would cause any interesting reactions on him.

Blaine shook his head. He needed to control himself. He couldn't let his mind wander like this… oh, Kurt was talking.

"… really late. You might as well stay for dinner," Kurt moved to the window and looked at the street outside and the darkening sky.

"Oh, it's fine, really. You already fed me enough," Blaine tried to sound nonchalant, but Kurt's shoulder was still exposed.

"Oh, hush. I don't mind at all," Kurt started opening cupboards and checking the contents. "How do you feel about some fettuccini Alfredo?"

And Blaine ended up staying for dinner because he couldn't get enough of Kurt. Because one more second by his side was like a gift from heaven and rejecting it would have meant he was a very, very stupid man. Kurt cooked and hummed happily and Blaine insisted on setting the table, which was really tiny and they could barely both fit. They didn't have any wine with dinner, but Blaine felt drunk anyway. Kurt was intoxicating and looking into those stunning eyes for too long had to be bad for his health.

Their feet kept brushing against each other under the table, whether it was intentionally or not, Blaine couldn't tell, but he felt a rush of adrenaline with every touch. The food was delicious, of course, and he had to almost stab himself with the knife he had been using to cut his fettuccini to stop himself from reaching out and wiping a bit of sauce in the corner of Kurt's mouth at one point. Although watching him cleaning it up with the tip of his tongue was torture, too.

When it was time to go, Kurt walked him to his car and waved goodbye as he drove away. Blaine gripped the steering wheel harder than he should have, but his whole body was vibrating with the emotions he had had to hold back all day.

He was in love with Kurt. And what was there not to love? Kurt was everything anyone could ever dream of and even more. But when Blaine closed the door behind him, enveloped by the darkness of his apartment, he let himself slide down to the floor and hugged his knees. His loneliness was his safety and he couldn't let Kurt in. But again, how could Kurt ever love someone like him? Blaine was imperfection, mistakes, doubts and weakness.

Yes, his loneliness was his safety, but it had also always been his tragedy.