The Proper Way to Build Up the Courage to Make a Big Gesture

This is accomplished by using Kurt as incentive, being miserably alone, and getting more than your fill of some well-placed sarcasm from Bitches…

The day after our fight thing, Kurt left Dalton as soon as classes were over without so much as a kiss my ass. I didn't watch him go, but I knew he was gone when that he-left-and-I'm-slowly-going-out-of-my-mind feeling started to creep up my spine.

Two hours into my moping, Bitches texted me to ask what I was doing, to which I replied, Kurt left. Leave me alone. She showed up at Dalton about an hour and a half later and all but forced me into going with her to one of those stupid outdoor binge drinking parties that almost always suck and are never worth the inevitable post party hangover.

We spent all night dicking around at the party (if you could even refer to it as one), which was in some random assed field in the middle of nowhere, drinking half our body weight something called 'can juice'. It tasted like rubbing alcohol and fruit punch mixed together. Santana wound up sobbing her fucking eyes out sometime around one in the morning and not long after that I remember trying my best to get her to kiss me. Eventually I got her to agree and I remember giving a victory woop as I swooped in to eat her face off. Fortunately, about an inch away from her lips, I finally noticed the globs of snot running down her nose from all the fucking crying and that her face had puffed up like a blow fish and remembered, oh yeah, I'm gay. She punched me in the face for changing my mind and cried harder.

After that I really don't remember what the fuck happened. The next morning I woke up in the back seat of San's car butt ass naked with a mysterious red stripe of paint on my back that ran from the nape of my neck down to the crack of my ass. My jeans were wrapped around my head like a makeshift turban and my underwear was hanging from her radio antenna, secured tight with leopard print duct tape. We never found my shirt. Santana had fallen asleep with her legs sprawled over the passenger seat, her upper half on the floor crammed underneath the dash.

After I was dressed (or half-dressed anyway) and she was awake, neither of us felt like going anywhere else so we basically spent the entire day in the car, slowly eating our way through the small supply of chips she kept in her trunk and bitched about everything in our lives that pissed us off.

She dropped me off at Dalton sometime around three in the morning on Sunday and though I was completely sober (my head still hurt too much from the night before to do any more drinking), I felt a sense of deja vu as I dragged my tired and sore body (sore from spending the day crammed in Santana's tiny sedan) into the student lounge. I killed about an hour staring up at the ceiling, wondering if Kurt would show up like he had done the week before, just because being away from me was too much to handle.

He didn't.

I fell asleep waiting for him.

Kurt returned to Dalton on Monday and a week passed by slowly with the constant feeling of disappointment in my stomach. Disappointment in myself for how royally I had screwed things up, disappointment for how I was letting Kurt affect me so completely, disappointment for each time his eyes would find mine for no reason at all before he would look apathetically away—oh, and lets not fucking forget, disappointment for how he seemed to need me so much less than I needed him.

That week I watched him drive away Friday evening with my heart being squeezed by an imaginary fist. I only lasted an hour before I all but ran to my car, Santana's advice from the day before on my mind…

So follow him.

I told myself that I wouldn't but I called Santana from the car because panic had started to slurp at the marrow in my bones.

"Speak," was what she said after picking up on the fourth ring.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I blurted as I glanced again at the arrival time on the GPS. Just a little over ten minutes left. It made me feel sick. The fact that it was nighttime and dark as shit made things worse. I hated driving to places I had never been to before at night.

"Of course it's a good fucking idea. I came up with it, didn't I?"

I scowled. She would say that. "Yeah, but I don't see how this is going to help. In fact, me showing up to his house completely unannounced is just going to piss him off. He made it pretty clear that he wants nothing to do with me."

"Um, excuse me, Curly Sue, but which one of us has spent more time with him, you or me?"

I scoffed. "That really makes no difference. It's not like he can actually talk to you."

She hummed. "So you're finally admitting that he talks to you?"

I rolled my eyes. We were not having that conversation again. "That was a generic 'you,'" I said without missing a beat.

"Yeah, sure it was," she shot back just as fast. "But to clarify for those of us on the short bus, he didn't have to use his voice to make it obvious that he's the biggest romantic sap alive. Every time a couple walked by holding hands, the longing in his eyes would ooze out of his eyeballs and goop all over the freaking floor where it would be left for some poor innocent bystander to trek through later. It was embarrassing to watch."

I pinched the bridge of my nose as her truth corrected the lies. "I'm sorry, was there a point in there somewhere that I missed?" I asked tightly, willing her to silently get the hint that I wanted her to stop bullshitting.

"Probably. You're kind of an idiot."

"You're not fucking helping!" I snapped as I jerked into the indicated exit lane. "I mean, fuck. What the fuck am I doing?"

She scoffed loudly into the phone. "What you are doing is going to make up with Hummel so you can stop calling me every night to whine about how royally you fucked things up with Princess Gay-Face. My ears have bled so much on account of your incessant bitching that I am way past the point of needing extensive reconstructive surgery."

And again with the onslaught of corrective truths. I was about three seconds away from throwing my phone out the window. "You know what? I don't even know why I fucking bother with you. Can't you just—I don't know, actually fucking help me when I need it instead of basically being a useless bitch? Just—Ugh. Whatever. Fuck this, I'm going back—"

"Oh my god, Blaine, take a pill and chill the fuck out! I was just busting your balls. This is going to work, okay? He'll appreciate the big gesture and then you'll both get to fuck happily ever after. Don't—" She sighed. She started again. "Don't go back, okay? You'll regret it if you do. And I wasn't really trying to piss you off. I just figured that maybe if you laughed a little you would calm down or something, I don't know…" She huffed, sounding uncomfortable and embarrassed by the admission. Her discomfort went along nicely with the color that exploded all over my face. "Sometimes you can be such a pregnant woman it's not even funny."

I grimaced at the underlying hurt in her voice. Or maybe 'hurt' was too strong of a word for someone like her. Still, I had made her all upset, which didn't exactly make me want to burst into song. "Jesus, Bitches, keep your fucking shirt on. It's not like I actually turned around or anything."

"Yeah, whatever," was her way of letting me know I was forgiven. "Are you there yet?"

"No. There is literally nothing here but trees and road. Who did you get this address from again? I swear to god, if you're sending me to a fucking crack house or something—"

"I'm sorry, but do I look like a humongous Jew-nose to you?"

"What?"

"Rachel Berry."

"Who?"

"Nevermind. I got it from Finn Hudson. Kurt's dad is dating his mom… Did you find it yet?"

"Yeah, hold on," I said distractedly as I followed the GPS's instructions and made the left turn into Kurt's driveway, which was easily missed. I couldn't see anything but trees and darkness, even with my high beams on. The driveway itself was freakishly long, and it took a few seconds before I saw lights in the distance, presumably from the house—Kurt's house—where he lived. Nervous flesh shredding bats exploded in my stomach. "Shit, shit, shit," I mumbled, starting to really freak out.

"Relax. It's going to be fine," Santana said softly in my ear, startling me because I had forgotten she was there.

"No," I shook my head, my hands fisted tightly around the steering wheel. "I should have stayed at Dalton and waited the weekend out. This isn't me. I don't do touchy feely crap like this. What the hell am I even supposed to say?"

"Well, I would avoid anything with the phrase 'you complete me' in it," she said, dry and sarcastic once again. She changed her tone to a more serious one before I could snap at her for it. "Listen, it really doesn't matter what you're going to say. You'll say what you have to and you'll do it for him."

I digested that in silence, trying to catch some sort of hidden meaning.

Santana sighed. "I'm going to hang up now, okay? You'll be fine. Text me later."

She hung up without waiting for me to say goodbye, which was just as well because I had finally reached the end of Kurt's ridiculously long driveway and I could see the outlines of people sitting inside through one of the windows. I couldn't tell who was who or make out anything specific about the shadowy human shaped blobs, but one of those people in there was Kurt, and the restlessness I had felt since he left school earlier that day started to ebb. I wondered whether he felt it too; the sense of calm that came from being close enough to see or touch.

I killed the ignition. It took me a few deep breaths, but I awarded myself some hypothetical points for getting out of the car despite the bats still tearing up my stomach.

I felt really weird. On the one hand, I couldn't get to the front door fast enough. On the other, I wanted to run back to my car and hide out in there for the rest of the weekend. I wasn't very well accustomed to being indecisive and I really didn't like it. Still, I eventually made it to the door and knocked louder and more sharply than I had originally intended, grimacing when people started yelling from the inside.

"Did someone just knock on the door?"

"I told you I heard a car!"

"Finn, honey, could you get that?"

"Boys! Why is someone knocking on my door at ten o'clock at night?"

"What's with all the yelling?"

"Make Kurt get it!"

"I am moisturizing, Finn! You do it!"

Kurt.

Oh, god, this is fucking happening…

Thundering footsteps sounded from inside a second before the porch light flicked on. I scowled up at it just as the door was pulled open and I found myself looking up at a ginormous fuck of a kid with the babiest baby face I had ever seen. His face scrunched up in confusion as he stared at me.

"Uhhh…" he said, looking and sounding completely idiotic. "Who are you?"

"Blaine," I said shortly, annoyed at the slight unsettlement I felt in my stomach at how massively huge he was. He looked too big to be allowed.

"O…kay? Are you, like, selling something… or something?"

"Do I look like I'm selling something?"

"Uh…"

A woman rounded the corner—a woman with pale skin, large, dark eyes, short, dark hair that went in all different directions, a lip piercing, a smallish gauge in one ear, and a pink shirt that said LET THEM EAT SHIT on it. Most importantly, though, she had a wide, pouty mouth that looked exactly like Kurt's.

She locked eyes with me as she walked over to the door, suspicion evident on her face. "Scoot, stretch," she said to the giant kid as she hip bumped him out of the way. "What do you want?"

"Kurt," I said without thinking.

The Lip Thief lifted her eyebrows at me. "Sorry, shorty, Kurt's not for sale."

I rolled my eyes. "Can you just go get him for me?"

She moved to lean her body up against the door frame and folded her arms across her chest. "He's not home, cutie, but feel free to play again next time." He's upstairs in his room.

Her truth sounded surprisingly pleasant. Pleasant, but still hella annoying because she was being difficult.

"The fuck he's not," I snapped. I was nervous, felt slightly intimidated, and was starting to get really pissed off. Sue me.

Another woman popped up seemingly out of nowhere. She had straight, strawberry red hair that was pulled back into a severe, professional looking bun. The severity didn't stop her from being beautiful, though, and neither did the plain gray suit she wore. She looked like she had just come home from the office after spending the day wiping employees all over the floor. She looked me over and frowned in confusion before turning to the bitch that wouldn't let me see Kurt. "What's going on here?"

The Lip Thief shrugged. "Kid says he 'wants' Kurt," she said, complete with air quotes. "Obviously he's some kind of sick little pervert." She glared at me and I cringed when her truth sounded off in my head just a little too loud.

The blonde redhead scowled at the other woman. "Don't be ridiculous, Logan. Obviously he goes to Kurt's school." She gestured impatiently at my uniform, which I hadn't remembered to change out of in my haste to get to Kurt. Next she turned to the mini giant who was still standing there looking confused. "Finn, find Kurt and tell him someone is at the door for him."

(If you need a second or two to puzzle over what deep hole the name Finn came from, feel free to go right ahead knock yourself out with that. I sure as hell spent a few good seconds staring at him in confusion and wondering what the actual fuck. But anyway.)

"Yeah, sure," Finn agreed with an awkward movement of his shoulders that I guessed was supposed to have been a shrug. Then he turned towards the stairs behind the two women. "KURT!"

"For crying out—WHAT, Finn?" Kurt yelled immediately from somewhere upstairs.

"DOOR!"

The suit rolled her eyes at the giant kid. "That was necessary?"

Finn grinned sheepishly. It made him look even more boyish, though I would have bet beforehand that was an impossibility. "Sorry, Ev."

'Ev' sighed and turned back to me. "Come in," she said, so I did. Lip Thief, or Logan, kicked the door closed behind me.

Ev put out her hand for me to shake. I shook it on impulse and tried not to show surprise at the intense pressure she put on my hand. "I'm Kurt's aunt, Everly," she said, her steel gray eyes trained on mine in a way that held my gaze and refused to let go. She was not someone to piss off.

"Blaine," I mumbled.

Logan snorted loudly as she walked over to prop herself up against a nearby wall. I got the feeling it was her go-to 'at ease' position. "Now, why you gotta lie like that, V?"

Tension presented itself around the edges of Everly's mouth. "Don't start with me Logan."

"What? Am I starting?" Logan asked with a shit eating grin. "I'm just trying to keep you good and honest."

Everly whipped her head around to glare at the woman. "I'm sorry. Next time I introduce myself to someone I'll be sure to say, 'I'm Kurt's dead mother's best friend. Kurt calls me his aunt, and normally I would introduce myself that way, but Logan Hummel has a problem with dishonesty that she doesn't like to apply to herself, just other people.'"

The truths rattled off in my head one after another. I started to think running after Kurt was a bad idea. I hadn't had any idea how many people would be at his house. Not to mention, the foyer was a small space and I was beginning to feel boxed in. The bickering wasn't helping much either.

Logan smirked, looking amused, but there was something more sinister in her gaze that she almost managed to keep hidden. "You know, if you agreed to marry me, you could be his aunt for real and this really wouldn't be an issue anymore."

Something dangerous came over Everly's face. "I'd rather cut off my own arm with the blunt side of a spoon." I'd rather marry you.

"Blaine?"

I turned at the sound of Kurt's voice. He stared at me from the top of the stairs looking bewildered, his body frozen with his hand resting on the banister. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Fuck, 'I' what? "I came to see you."

He lifted his eyebrows at that. He picked up a foot as if to go down a step and move closer, but seemed to think better of it and put it firmly back down. "How do you even know where I live?"

I consciously had to keep from biting my lip. "Santana told me."

To that, Kurt said nothing.

Logan jerked her thumb in my direction. "You want me to throw him out?"

A third woman came down the stairs. "What's going on?" From the sound of her voice, I thought she might be Carole. Her voice had sounded so comforting on the phone but now it was one voice too many.

Then a man who I immediately recognized at Burt Hummel walked in and I officially started freaking out. There were too many people and they were all much too close.

"What are we all standing around in here for?" Burt stopped short when his eyes fell on me. "Who're you?"

They all turned to stare at me.

My head started to pound. Somewhere in the midst of it all, Kurt heaved an annoyed sigh and trudged his way down the stairs to grab my hand.

"I need a minute to talk to Blaine." I need some unknown amount of time to talk to Blaine. My eyes nearly rolled back into my head at having his truth in my brain for the first time in eight days.

Next thing I knew he was pulling me outside, Burt's question of "Who is Blaine?" muffled behind us as Kurt pulled the door shut with a bang before dragging me down the driveway.

I started at our joint hands. My skin quickly turned warm in his hold. It felt nice. Especially after being without it for so long. Just when I was about to slide my fingers in the spaces between his, he pulled away and turned to face me, a deadpan expression on his face.

"Why are you here?"

His question hung there in silence for a while. I had no idea what to say so I stuck with my original answer. "I came to see you."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "How does repeating yourself answer my question?"

"What else do you want me to say? It's the truth."

He folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. An ironic, disbelieving laugh left his lips. "Go back to school, Blaine."

I gaped at him. I was going to kill Santana. She said this would be a sure thing. She said this would work. But obviously Kurt didn't give a flying fuck about 'big gestures' or romance or whatever the fuck Bitches had been gabbing on about over the phone—some bullshit about handholding and oozing and a bunch of fucking shit that seemed jumbled up and confusing now because my head hurt really bad, a bunch of people I had never met before had crowded around me in a tiny butt-fuck of a room, and obviously Kurt Hummel was just the most infuriating person on the planet. I wanted to take him by the collar and rattle his brain. I wanted to hold his hand, too. I wanted to kiss him and I wanted to turn off all of my stupid, annoying feelings for him so I felt less like a crazy person all of the time.

"Are you serious, Kurt? You're still pissed off? I came all this way to see you!"

"Did I ask you to?" he asked pointedly.

"Did I ask you to ignore my fucking existence for a whole week?" I shot back just as fast.

"I don't know, Blaine, did I ask you to molest my roommate and prostitute your mouth out to him right in front of me?"

I ignored all the truths flying around in my head and kept on yelling. "I. Was. Fucking. Kidding! Besides, what do you care? You were hardly speaking to me at the time!"

"Were you kidding when you called him gorgeous, too?" He yelled back.

"Oh my god, Kurt, is that seriously what pissed you off? Because I called him some stupid pet name?"

His truth damn near rattled my skull. IT'S MY STUPID PET NAME! MY STUPID PET NAME THAT YOU USE FOR ME!

And I sort of shut up then because when I opened my mouth to return the favor of yelling back just as loud, or maybe even a touch louder if my vocal chords were up for it, I realized that I had absolutely nothing to say.

Kurt huffed at my silence, sounding amused in the most sardonic way. "How do you think that made me feel?"

My mouth falling open was as far as I got as far as formulating a response.

Kurt was better at the talking thing. Better at the making me feel like shit thing too. "Weren't you listening?" he asked quietly, arms tugged tight to his body, and I had no idea when he was referring to. He must have seen the confusion in my face because he elaborated as best he could. "The lounge, Sunday, the window. Didn't you hear me say that I felt the connection too?"

"I'm sorry," I finally found my voice. I took a chance. "I know how it made you feel," I admitted. "Even when it was happening, I knew it bothered you and I probably even knew it might hurt your feelings and that's… kind of why I did it…"

"You…" He looked completely lost. "You hurt me on purpose?"

"I…" It wasn't like that exactly. I just wanted to make him jealous but… "Yes. I'm sorry."

"But—" He shook his head. "Why? Why would you do that?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Because I'm fucked up, I guess. I just… did it. I don't know. I guess I thought if I could hurt you or make you upset it would validate that you cared." Then, to clarify, "About me."

He started to get this look in his eyes—appalled. He looked appalled. There was something else there, too, that was unidentifiable. "That's…"

"It's sick. I know. I'm sorry."

"How many times are you going to tell me that?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Until it works, I guess… Will it work?"

He stared blankly at me, his jaw working itself open and closed a few times.

"If it doesn't work, I can… I can do something else. I don't know what you'd… what do you want me to do? Because I'll do it—I—what do you want?"

He looked a little shell shocked by the question and I wondered then if anyone had ever bothered to ask him that before.

"I..."

"You can tell me." I tried to sound encouraging, but I think we both knew I was pleading and desperate. Something about that must have spoken to him though.

"I don't want anything from you," he said, looking as surprised as I was that he had actually spoken. I don't want you to call anyone else gorgeous. Not like that, anyway. I want that to be ours.

I gulped because that had been a little too honest. Neither of us was ready for that yet. I was tempted to fuck things up again by being an ass, but the week without him had been hell.

"I can do that," I told my shoes, feeling like an idiot when I felt my face get hot, which was the icing on the fucking cake really.

After a few seconds of awkward silence spent with neither of us knowing what to do with ourselves, Kurt heaved a frustrated sigh and started walking back to the house. "Come on," he said without looking back.

Stuffing my hands in my pocket, I followed.