He’s still awake when Jeff stumbles in at eleven. The sun is filtering through the edges of his blinds and his stomach has been rumbling for over an hour now. He watches as his roommate clumsily toes off his shoes and sees the moment when Jeff stills, staring down at Blaine in his bunk. All that can be seen is a constricting arm around Blaine’s waist. Ryan’s face is tucked into his back, breath heavy and steady between Blaine’s shoulder blades. Jeff gives a good natured eyebrow waggle, a sort of congratulatory face that Blaine sighs at.

“Don’t bother.” He whispers, mouthing the next part, “Ryan.” Jeff’s face falls and Blaine can see the disappointment and frustration on it. Blaine closes his eyes, tuning his roommate out. Reaching out, he finds his iPod and earbuds, trying not to move too much. He turns the volume up, as loud as he can, and lets himself drift. Blaine loses himself in the music and noise, letting the music pull him away from the small bed and small room, away from Ryan’s body, which is cumbersome and too hot and close to his.

At two, Ryan finally wakes up with a start, startling Blaine. Blaine lets him borrow shower stuff, hoping that Ryan will leave soon. It’s not that late, but he knows that Ryan has to work early tomorrow.

He putters around his room, thankful that Jeff is asleep, checking emails and answering messages. His phone buzzes and he sees, with a flare of warmth and disbelief, a text from Kurt. Blaine smiles, feeling breathless and unsure; the club and that strange breakfast seem so far away now, like something that happened to someone else. Breathing deep, he checks the message.

Are you ok?

For a moment he just sits, thinking. Is he okay?

No. Not really.

When was the last time he was, though? What does okay even feel like? When he starts to over think things like this, Blaine wonders if he is not a little unhinged, if he’s just fooling himself into thinking that the unhappy grey pallor of his life is normal. He wonders if everyone feels like he does, or if maybe his expectations are much too high.

Blaine doesn’t really think he is okay; he can only judge from what other people have said about how they feel happy or content. They’re comfortable with their lives and selves, and love. Blaine has observed these things in other people, but he hasn’t felt any of them for himself.

While he can honestly say that no, he definitely isn’t okay, he’s pretty sure that’s not the right answer for Kurt. His problems aren’t Kurt’s responsibility; they are Blaine’s burden to bear.

I’m fine. How are you?

His phone is silent for less than 30 seconds before it buzzes again. Blaine checks to be sure Ryan is still in the shower. He has to remind himself firmly that he’s allowed to have friends.

Sure. I barely know you and even I didn’t believe that. Want to go for coffee or something later?

Blaine really doesn’t know how to respond. The part of him that is compelled to give people what they want and expect is a little thrown. Kurt obviously wants him to admit that he isn’t okay, but doing so would put undue attention on him, which is uncomfortable and unnecessary. He isn’t the same boy he used to be, the attention seeker who loved solos and the feeling of being on stage, all eyes on him.

Unsure, he finally decides to skip the first part of Kurt’s text.

That sounds great- maybe later?

Blaine can hear Ryan finishing up in the shower and puts his phone down just as Kurt’s reply comes through.

Sounds good. Call me.

He plasters a smile on his face when Ryan comes out, still dressed sloppily, hair wet and dripping onto his hooded sweatshirt. Blaine has to bite down on a surge of annoyance. Feeling guilty and resentful, he flips his phone face down, behind his keyboard, and tucks his cold fingers together in his lap.

“I’m starving.” Ryan tosses the wet towel over a chair, smiling sweetly at Blaine. He kneels by him, placing a soft kiss on Blaine’s lips. “Wanna go get food?”

“Ryan,” Blaine tries to be nice, but he feels agitated and itchy despite how nice Ryan is being. “I don’t really have a lot of money.”

“I’ll pay. Come on, I know you have to be hungry.” At Blaine’s raised eyebrow, Ryan laughs goodnaturedly, hauling him up by the hand and hugging him hard. His hands are at Blaine’s hips, sure and familiar against his skin. For a moment, Blaine feels his anger fade; this feels a little like home. For so long, Ryan has been the most constant person in his life, and the only person who has really loved Blaine at all. Blaine closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Ryan’s damp shoulder.

“Okay.” Ryan makes no move to go though, only holds Blaine closer, humming a little as his hands knead the tense muscles of his back.

“I love you, Blaine. So much.” His voice is quiet and Blaine nods, not speaking. It’s unfair to Ryan, but he isn’t sure he can say the words back.

That afternoon, it’s a relief to see Ryan’s car backing out of the small parking lot. Ryan’s lives over two hours away, so they only see each other on weekends. He feels guilt at the sense of liberation, knowing he has five days to just be. He won’t have to check to make sure he’s behaving properly, or make sure he hasn’t offended or hurt Ryan.

Checking the time, he sees that it is just past 5. It might be late for coffee, but he’s feeling unencumbered and reckless and he really, really does not want to go back to his dorm and face Jeff’s silent (or not so silent) disapproval.

What r u doing?

He sits out on a bench, waiting for Kurt’s reply. It’s cold, but the bench is dry somehow, and it is a beautiful day. The sky is cracking with winter, cloudless in the brittle air.

Classy text speak. Nothing. Want to hang out? Where are you?

Blaine has to laugh.

I’m nothing if not classy. Outside, on the bench by the east wing. Front.

Blaine sits for ten minutes, watching cars drive slowly by and observing people as they walk. Campus is always a strange sort of quiet on Sundays. It’s a little eerie, the feeling like Monday is looming. There’s a hollow sort of emptiness as people huddle and recover from hangovers, catching up on their school work for the coming week.

“Hey,” Kurt says. Blaine startles when Kurt swings around, dropping gracefully onto the bench beside him. Blaine has a moment to take him in, from the way he smells (amazing and complicated), to the way he looks (incredible and so put together), to the way his own stomach tightens just seeing him.

“Hi.” Blaine can feel that his smile is too bright; it worries him and he tries to rein it in. Is it too much? Will he freak Kurt out?

“So…wanna get some coffee or something?” Kurt stands and tugs on Blaine’s coat sleeve. There is something admirably confident about him, about the way he owns his space and his posture. It seems at odds with the soft and tentative underpinning that Blaine knows is there. He shakes his head at the thought. If he’s going to be Kurt’s friend, he’s going to have to stop thinking about that night. Stop feeling the strange and indefinable twist deep down inside when he thinks about it.

“That sounds great. I need some caffeine if I am going to get any work done tonight.” Blaine lets Kurt lead him, walking next to him when he can. He stops, trying to avoid stray students whizzing past on bikes as they carelessly skid over patches of ice. He’s never understood how people can keep riding their bikes in the winter, when the cold wind freezes the air in your nose and makes walking to class unbearable.

“Mmm, I know what you mean.” Kurt slides a look his way, as if testing Blaine’s mood. “Sleep at all?” he asks lightly.

Blaine finds himself shaking his head, surprised by his honesty. “No, not at all.”

“Want to talk about it?” Kurt offers neutrally. It’s not pressing or prying; it’s a sincere offer to listen if Blaine needs an ear. Kurt somehow seems to understand that Blaine might cave if he is pressured in anyway.

“Umm,” Blaine fiddles with his scarf nervously. He knows it’s a tell but can’t stop himself. “I don’t know.”

“You do that a lot.” Kurt responds airily. He’s not looking at Blaine; he’s examining the cross traffic as they wait for a break to cross the street. Blaine waits until they are on the other side before speaking, choosing his words with care.

“What? Deflect when I don’t know what I want, how I feel, or what I should say?” He strives for a sort of joking, self-deprecating tone. Kurt turns to look at him directly, without saying anything, and Blaine twitches nervously. There is so much understanding, so much knowing, in Kurt’s eyes. Blaine avoids Kurt’s gaze and turns into the coffee shop, pulling the rickety screen door open, then the heavier door behind it. They order and doctor their drinks in silence and Kurt leads him over to an empty table toward the back of the shop.

Blaine has never been here before, so he’s busy taking in the atmosphere: it’s laid back but cozy. It’s a small shop, cluttered with oversized chairs and low tables. He sees outlets along the floorboards and a sign advertising free WiFi. He might come here to study sometime; Jeff blasts loud music a lot, which tends to interrupt Blaine’s thought process.

“So, you were saying?” Kurt’s fingers are delicate and long, holding the cup of coffee gingerly as he blows away the steam.

“I was?” Blaine tries to dodge the question. He’s struggling to get the lid back onto his coffee, almost spilling it with his fumbling fingers. When he looks up, Kurt is examining him patiently.

“Blaine. I know we just met and we don’t know each other very well, so please don’t feel like you need to talk about anything, but can we at least promise to be honest with each other? If you don’t want to talk about something or need space, you can just tell me okay?” Kurt toys with the hem of his sweater, failing to meet Blaine’s eyes.

“Wow.” Taken aback, Blaine resists the urge to run a hand nervously through his hair. It’s a very old habit he hasn’t fallen back on in years, not since Ryan convinced him he looked better with hair gel because his curls were a hot mess. He gives Kurt his own level look, “You’re really direct, you know that?”

Kurt preens a bit, examining his nails. “And fabulous too,” he says with a flair of his hand that makes Blaine laugh, which makes Kurt laugh. Blaine is sure it’s a real laugh, something he hasn’t been lucky enough to see yet. It makes Kurt look young in a completely different way; his eyes crinkle and his teeth shine in the light from the overheads.

“No, really, I’ve been told I can be pretty direct. But also…” Kurt pauses and bites his lip. This does something incredible to Blaine, whose fingers begin to tingle. “I don’t know. I feel…something…familiar? I’m comfortable with you. That’s not- I mean I-I don’t…” Blaine is treated to a new side of Kurt: stammering and blushing. He’s only known this boy for a few hours, but it feels like longer. Each new facet he uncovers is like a present, hidden under paper and peeled away slowly. Kurt is birthdays and Christmas; he’s expectation and surprise and gleeful discovery.

And whoa, that’s a pretty intense line of thought to be having about a boy he doesn’t even know. Especially when he has a boyfriend.

The thought is like cold water. Blaine tries to keep his show face on as Kurt stammers to a pause, still red-faced.

“Kurt, it’s okay. I think I know what you mean.” He interrupts, keeping his voice low. He’s tempted to take Kurt’s hand, anything that might convey comfort and acceptance. Wow, he thinks. He feels out of control, but it’s not like he’s into this boy... he’s just drawn.

“Yeah?” Kurt sips his drink, settling his shoulders as he calms down. “Good. I don’t want to sound like a creepy stalker or anything. I swear, my shrine to you is tiny.” His eyes smile as he jokes. Blaine steers the conversation in the same direction, with lighthearted banter as they get to know each other a little more, taking small steps in the same direction.

Later, when they are parting at the stairwell to their rooms, Kurt stops him with a light press of his fingers to Blaine’s shoulder.

“If you ever do need someone to talk to, or just a shoulder, I’m here. I…I’m no stranger to…well.” Kurt shrugs, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Blaine smiles, ducking his head shyly. “Yeah,” he hopes that conveys everything he means to say- ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to explain’ and ‘Thank you, maybe I will’.

“Okay. Well…thanks Blaine. I had a good time.” Kurt steps up and Blaine wishes that they didn’t have to part just yet. The only thing he has to look forward to is Jeff interrogating him and a term paper. Oh and a phone call to Ryan. He sighs.

“I did too, thank you. Maybe we can hang out later or something?” Kurt’s smile is bright again, almost too bright. It burns Blaine’s retinas like the sun and he’s sure that if he looks away, he’ll see nothing but the shape of those lips and teeth, faded and floating in front of his eyes.

“I’d love that. Text me.” With that, Kurt pats his arm and climbs up the stairs. Blaine takes a moment to admire Kurt’s pea-coat before turning to go down to the basement level of the dorm.

When he opens the door, he sees that Jeff isn’t there. Thankful, he moves into the darkened room, flipping on his small desk lamp and booting up his laptop. It’s past seven and he knows that Ryan is probably expecting a call. Blaine has a lot of work to catch up on, reading and that paper, but he knows that if he calls Ryan now, he can use homework as an excuse to cut things short. He picks up his phone with a feeling of trepidation. It’s wrong to hope that Ryan might change for him, but if he’s going to be trapped in this relationship, some changes on Ryan’s end might make things a more bearable

He lucks out (which he later reflects is a terrible way to feel about one’s boyfriend, but thoughts like this aren’t new. He’s sort of grown used to the idea of not wanting to be with Ryan and having to be with him anyway). Ryan’s phone is either off or dead so he leaves a quick message.

“Hey, it’s me. Just checking in. I have a lot of work to catch up on tonight, so I’m going to turn off my phone. Have a good night….love you.” He hangs up the phone and sits in the quiet before turning on some music and cracking open his history text.