“These people won’t stop staring at me.”
“Brittany they’re just photos, keep writing you have…” Blaine shifted on the bed, looking up from the paper over his lap to the pocket watch laced through his fingers, “Seven minutes left.”

“But it feels like I’m back in the zoo. I keep thinking the zookeeper is going to bring me food and it’s making me hungry. It’s super distracting,” she’d spun away from the desk to look at Blaine as she said this. “You’re hungry because Sue refuses to let you eat. Be quiet and finish the test and after I’ll make you a snack,” he held a finger up and made a revolving gesture.

Shoulders drooping Brittany relented and revolved back to her place at the test. However Blaine occasionally caught her glancing up to the line of photos, chewing the end of her magic pen suspiciously. He sighed and went back to rereading the article in the Muckraker for about the twenty-seventh time since he’d been given the copy yesterday.

After his conversation with Kurt he’d planned on going to the library to look up Jacob’s blog on one of the schools computers. However much to his immortal chagrin he’d been cut off by Mike who’d handed him the paper with pity in his eyes, open to the page where the article had made it into print titled: Glee Wiz! That’s An Odd Couple…

Hallway Hobbit Blaine Anderberry, brother of Rachel the mouth watering Jewish princess who puts the ‘dish’ in Yiddish, is sporting a new blonde beard, in the form of our very own Ms. Brittany S. Pierce.

The article went on to detail a few facts laced with a lot of the Muckrakers signature, well… muck. But the gist of it was that Blaine was using na�ve Brittany as a way of hiding his obvious gay status, the status of which Blaine had stopped bothering to hide quite a few years now. It was kind of obvious after all.

That and as Kurt had already told him they’d been branded Braine… he groaned and returned his gaze to the pocket watch: seven…six…five…four…three…two…one.
“Ok that’s time Brittany, pencils down.”
“It’s a pen Blaine.”
“…Right Brittany, pen down then.”

She stood up and started stretching, she’d been at the paper for an hour now and all her muscles were tense and restless from inactivity. Idleness seemed to take a physical toll on Brittany who appeared to always be in perpetual motion. Half the battle with tutoring Brittany was just keeping her in her seat.

Blaine took possession of Brittany’s now vacant chair and started to read over her answers as she began to do little dance moves around the room, the flaps of her cheerio’s skirt following the movement. It befuddled Blaine how she could possibly keep warm in such an outfit, although this could very well account for why she was constantly moving. Fortunately for Kurt his uniform entailed long pants and a top with sleeves because he was perpetually cold, wearing thick coats and scarves right into May. This constant feeling of cold was a blessing for Blaine as it had meant that he often sought the warmth that Blaine radiated by holding his hand or cuddling.

Blaine ticked off some of the questions, regrettably placing crosses next to more answers than he’d like to. While twirling on the spot Brittany began to chatter, her voice still registering a monotone despite the exertion, “Why didn’t you listen to my advice?” Blaine was genuinely perplexed, but waved it off and continued to mark the answers, smiling and giving the answer to a particularly difficult question an extra large tick. “…I’m sorry Britt, what advice?” he asked.

“You know, about Kurt and birds.” That got Blaine’s attention. Frowning the pen skidded on the paper and the cross he’d been drawing was now dramatically uneven. “Uh- erm, I don’t… Britt I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he attempted to put conviction into the end of his sentence but his rigid shoulders were a dead giveaway. Without stopping she continued to talk. “Yes you do. Don’t act stupid. You’re not me.”

“I told you to stop calling yourself that Britt,” Blaine chastised her; he didn’t like it when Brittany put herself down. Besides she clearly wasn’t stupid, she’d seen right through Blaine on Sunday when she’d held the picture of Kurt and Blaine. And she’d obviously worked out why he’d sung that song in Glee club on Tuesday. Even if Kurt hadn’t gotten to hear it…

“You sang that song for Kurt,” she said confirming Blaine’s suspicions. He sighed, there wasn’t any point trying to hide it now so he answered her, “…Yes.” Continuing her dance she spun around until she was facing one of the wide bookshelves, grazing her fingers across the bindings of the neatly stacked books as she wiggled her hips from side to side like a belly dancer. As if she’d flicked her internal dance switch off she stuttered to a halt, plucking out a book and went to lie down on Blaine’s bed.

Blaine returned to her test to finish marking it, he knew this wasn’t over but he hoped the book now in her lap might distract her enough to forget the painfully embarrassing subject. With the academic progress she’d made recently he was disheartened to see her answer to question 27:

Her test was in less than a week, which worried him. When he could put a question into perspective she could answer it fine but without some degree of guidance she had the tendency to take questions a little too literally. He’d had to prise the phone out of her hand before she called 911 when asked: how long before train A and train B collide, filled with concern for the fictitious people on the trains.

“I told you that ‘actions speak louder than birds’ – why did you do the opposite of what I said?” Blaine collected himself and swivelled to look at Brittany who was flicking through the book, not even looking up as she spoke. The book was large but he couldn’t see the title or even make out it’s subject, her knees hid it by bending up to act like a plinth, holding the book in place. With the hand not flicking the pages she caressed the smooth pages and he appreciated the respect and reverence she gave his books.

Abandoning the test altogether Blaine focussed his face entirely on Brittany. In the decade Blaine had known Kurt he’d never had anyone to confide in his feelings. This was the kind of topic one would discuss with their best friend, but he obviously couldn’t discuss his unrequited feelings for Kurt with Kurt. Instead they weighed his shoulders down like a tangible object, as if he were Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. He hadn’t realised what a physical relief it would be to just talk about it. “I thought about what you said and I wanted to do… something… Puck made a couple of suggestions at work, I mean singing has worked for him before so…”

“And how long do any of Puck’s relationships last?” It was a valid point, Lauren had been Puck’s longest relationship and that mostly seemed to be a cat and mouse game between the two of them. He couldn’t help picturing Lord Tubbington in his mind holding the tail of a tiny mouse with a fauxhawk. “Besides, singing is what birds do. I told you to take action.”

“But what does that even mean Britt, I don’t understand what you’re saying, can you explain it to me?” The role reversal was laughably ironic. After the weeks Blaine had spent tutoring her, the roles had flipped and now she was the teacher, the book in her lap somehow emphasizing the point.

“Kurt is under a spell. A princess coma. Like when they eat the apple or they prick their finger. H can’t hear you and even if he could see you all he’d see is the boy he met when he was a kid. That’s part of the spell. You have to break it and the only way you’ll only be able to do that is by taking action,” he could understand Brittany to a point and this honestly worried Blaine as they’d obviously been spending too much time together is this was true. But he was still baffled, what could she possibly mean by action?

“What action Brittany? How do you propose I wake him up?”

She stopped leafing through the pages in the book and held up the page she’d been studying for Blaine to see. Peering through the glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose, he studied the picture on the page; it was a full colour illustration from the Disney’s Snow White.

Oh…

………….

Without explanation Puck had shut up the Lima Bean early on Friday night. He had seemed oddly on edge, his usual bravado replaced by nervous ticks including glancing anxiously over his shoulder as he locked the door. Considering recent events that had occurred in the little coffee shop, Blaine had no desire to know why.

Although this should have been a fortuitous turn of events, granting him quicker access to his evening with Kurt, Blaine couldn’t quite locate the happiness he should be feeling. He hadn’t thought Brittany could fluster him more than when she’d confessed her knowledge of Blaine’s feelings for Kurt almost a week ago. However her message could not possibly have been any clearer when she’d shown Blaine that image. It left his mouth as dry as wax paper and disturbed his thoughts so that they swarmed inside him like bees.

And here Blaine was going to Kurt’s house. Kurt’s empty house. For a sleepover…

They’d had many sleepovers over the past ten years, so many that he’d lost count and evidently Blaine was very good at counting. For example he was able to recall that they had watched Moulin Rouge seventeen times together (Kurt’s favourite which Blaine indulged) and Kurt had worn Blaine’s favourite long striped navy sweater eleven times, just to name a couple.

While driving to Kurt’s house he chose to listen to a playlist of instrumental piano music as lately he found he couldn’t listen to the lyrics of a song without picturing Kurt in one way or another. Besides he enjoyed the melancholy plinking of the piano, it calmed the tension in his muscles and harmonized with the rain that was just beginning to patter on his windscreen.

When he left the main roads and began to thread through the suburban streets the pattering rain took a more sinister turn and started to lash against the window until the suburban landscape bled like a Monet painting. Blaine kept a slow pace and wound around corners carefully until he arrived at Kurt’s house, pulling up in the vacant spot Kurt would normally park his Navigator, if it weren’t still held hostage at Burt’s garage. Blaine looked to Kurt’s house, it glowed in the lamplight enticingly and even as rain bucketed from the sky in streaks as thick as glittering ribbons, he could still feel the warmth and shelter that the house provided.

With one final sigh Blaine grabbed his bag and ran for the house, dodging the puddles as best he could but getting drenched before his fist could find the door. He banged loudly and shifted from heel to heel as he waited to Kurt to let him in. After this received no response he tried again and wrapped his arms around him tightly across his chest scolding himself for not remembering his coat, picturing it in his mind still hanging on the hook in the office of the Lima Bean.

He attempted to pound the door again but it was pointless and he wondered if Kurt had forgotten their plans entirely, was he even home? He was close to turning around and returning home when he became aware of a sound breaking through the relentless hammering of the rain. It came from inside the house and he realised it was music, loud music. Knocking he realised would be a futile endeavour. He briefly considered trying to call him but a.) he didn’t want his phone damaged by the rain and b.) if he couldn’t hear his knocking what chance did he have of hearing his phone ring?

Changing tactics he ran around the back of the house until he came to the path that snaked the back of Kurt’s house, boarding the park that was like an extended garden. Blaine pushed through the door of the brick fence that was luckily unlocked and tore through the door and across Kurt’s actual back garden. Running to the backdoor of the kitchen, his shoes had begun to make an audible squelching noise, he swiped a hand over the fogged glass and gawked through the window until his eyes rested on the blurred figure of Kurt.

Now Blaine was acutely aware that he should be banging on the door by now. Alerting Kurt to his presence would gain Blaine entry to the house so that he could finally get out of the rain. His frozen body was shaking as it protested furiously at his hesitance to perform this simple action. However Blaine was transfixed on Kurt who was dancing with ferocity in the kitchen.

It occurred to Blaine in the back of his mind as he watched Kurt that the song was Filthy Gorgeous by Scissor Sisters. It was one of Kurt’s favourite bands and he’d played their music countless times for Blaine. He would dance playfully to their eclectic lyrics with the kind of moves a first grader might perform in a rendition of I’m a little teapot. But these moves were highly choreographed and had a sinuous powerful energy; all back arching, floor slithering, hip rolling and wandering hands that mapped his body. Kurt was doing deliciously obscene things to the air.

All of a sudden Kurt pulled the widow maker; a move Blaine’s thighs remembered vividly from the time Kurt had spent teaching him for Glee, (they’d burned for a week after) and on the second rotation his intent eyes caught sight of drenched and peering Blaine through the window and he screamed.

Blaine recoiled, taking a sharp step back he slide on the saturated concrete and fell backwards. Disoriented by his backpack he flailed around with the grace of a turtle that had accidentally rolled onto its back and struggled to regain balance. The Door flung open and Kurt was stood gasping for air chanting, “…you…you…you scared the Liza Mineli out of me! What are you doing here so early?!” He grabbed for Blaine’s hand who flinched, he’d grazed it on some gravel and a little blood was already blooming on the surface. Kurt pulled him into the house where he proceeded to melt onto the backdoor mat, shivering. “G-g-g-ot offff early.”

“You’re soaked – wait here,” Kurt disappeared into the small utility closet next to the kitchen as Blaine shuddered on the mat. He returned seconds later with the largest fluffiest towel Blaine could imagine and as he reached a shining appreciative arm to take it from Kurt’s hand, he watched it retreat backwards. “Oh no! You are not treading coffee grinds and the contents of the sky into the Hummel-Hudson carpets. Strip off and then you can wrap up all nice and snug in mister towel and then take a trip upstairs to visit mister shower!”

An unexpected noise; sort of a mashup of a gasp and a whimper, slipped out of Blaine’s lips as an abrupt blush crawled up his neck and into his cheeks, almost pleasantly thawing him. Kurt scrutinized him with one hand on his hip and Blaine came to the realisation that he was not going to be able to side step this miserable humiliation. Blaine exchanged a fraught look with Kurt through doe eyes that were half hidden behind his misted glasses, slipping precariously off the end of his nose. Biting his trembling lip he replied, “C-c-could you um t-t-turn…” he couldn’t finish the sentence and he implored Kurt to understand.

Kurt realised he was still staring and caught himself, “Oh sorry where are my manners…” He spun on the spot and reluctantly Blaine began to remove the layers that had plastered themselves to his olive skin. “Oh that’s right, I think you frightened them off into the night with that little stunt you just pulled!” Blaine grimaced and apologised as his sodden clothes started to slap audibly on the tiles at his feet. “Sorry, I was distracted, your dancing was really um good…”

“You’re forgiven I suppose and thanks. I was just practising a little floor work for the tournament, we’re doubling up the routine in case Brittany fails and has to drop out,” Kurt added. Blaine was finally down to his green boxer briefs when Kurt added “And don’t forget your panties! I’m not doing two loads.” The blush that had localised in the north of Blaine’s body took a sudden detour south until he started to resemble a Floridian tourist who’d forgotten to apply sunscreen.

When he’d finally shed the last layer of clothing he quickly wrapped up in the towel and ran through the kitchen, careful not to slip like he had in the back garden. Sprawling out naked on Kurt’s kitchen floor now would be the kind of terminal embarrassment he could never possibly recover from.

As he made his hasty retreat Kurt called, “Am I safe to look?” The slamming of his upstairs en suite resounded answering his question and he chuckled going to pick up the discarded clothes to throw in the washer. As he gathered them up he could smell the dense aroma of rain, mingled with faint traces of coffee and a spice he could never quite put his finger on. The same smell he always associated with Blaine.

………

Blaine had been standing under the hot pulsating spray of Kurt’s en suit shower for five minutes now without even reaching among the cacophony of florescent plastic bottles in front of him. He was concentrating solely on absorbing as much heat as he could through his pours and into his glacial bones.

At last he reached out a hesitant hand and selected a bottle at random, an orange one that when he flicked the lid assaulted his nostrils with the scent of jasmine. He held it close to his nearsighted eyes, trying to decipher if he should put it in his hair or on his skin, when the door banged open. Startled Blaine dropped the mystery bottle and it clattered loudly against the ceramic floor. Blaine cursed, eliciting a chuckle from the intruder.

“And here I thought your rhetoric was so dapper,” Kurt said with the edge of delighted sarcasm. “Even Rachel knocks before she…” Blaine began but blanched at a hideous memory and changed the subject, “So anyway, not to be rude, but what are you doing in here?”

“Ungrateful much? I’m Dropping off your PJ’s. Just running up the stairs in a towel you’d think I’d asked you to recite your diary at a school assembly. Oh and this -” Kurt’s porcelain arm appirated in front of Blaine as it breached the boundary of the shower curtain, in his clasped fingers he held a silver and turquoise coloured bottle.

Blaine gazed at the appendage that hovered so close to his vulnerable naked body and repressed the unexpected urge to grab Kurt’s arm and pull him inside the cubicle. Brittany’s illustration was still etched on his mind and for a moment Blaine contemplated what it would be like to kiss Kurt under a waterfall.

“Uh Blaine, I know you’re blind without your glasses but…”
“Right! Sorry!” He reached out and fumbled for the bottle, “And this is for…?” Blaine asked, Kurt gave a playful sigh, “Your hair silly, it’s designed for people with thick hair. I brought it for Finn but like the rest of his personal hygiene products it remained untouched. The boy uses lynx like it’s water, it’s revolting.”

“Thanks Kurt,” Blaine said as he heard the footsteps retreating. Before the door clicked shut Kurt had one final thing to add, “Oh I made cheese-less vegetarian pizza for dinner. We’ll can eat it on my bed while we watch a movie.” For a moment Blaine lost all composure of his heart muscle and was in danger of dropping this bottle as well. Steeling himself Blaine dolloped a generous portion of the product on his hand releasing the tart but pleasant scent of ginger and lemongrass. He massaged it into his hair, attempting to calm the swarm of butterflies that had suddenly begun to riot in his chest.

……..

“Here,” Kurt said handing Blaine a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the steam rising in little smoke signals. Blaine reached for it gratefully and took a small scolding sip before placing it on an old magazine lying on Kurt’s nightstand. This wasn’t the only artifice strewn around, mood boards stood propped up on every available flat surface, covered in Kurt’s original designs and magazine racks overflowed with bursting sketch pads that leaked fabric at their curled edges.

Blaine resumed his previous position, pressed back against the pillows, legs crossed against his body in the fetal position with his chin resting lightly on his knees. For the first time in a long time Blaine felt relaxed; he’d just consumed two thirds of a pizza (decorated with vegetables in the shapes of blooming flowers) and was now watching Moulin Rouge with Kurt for the eighteenth time. He had tried to persuade him to watch something a little less romantic but when Kurt wanted something, very little could be done to persuade him otherwise.

While they’d been eating and watching the cancan Kurt had cast Blaine sideways glances, giggling quietly to himself. Blaine kept checking to see if he’d dropped a radish rose on his PJs but could tell this was not the case. When he’d questioned Kurt he’d said in his most elusive and infuriating voice, “You’ll see…”

Kurt clad in his silk navy pyjamas that glimmered in the subdued light was now lying across the bed on his stomach, legs kicked up in the air and crossed over one another, sipping at what smelled like herbal tea. He’d abruptly offered to make them hot beverages during the Roxanne number, dashing out of the room. Blaine had offered to pause the movie but he’d waved him off and told him to carry on without him. It surprised Blaine because he knew how much Kurt adored the Roxanne sequence.

In an off hand voice Blaine spoke, “Finally gone off Roxanne then? Was bound to happen after the amount of times you’ve watched it.” Kurt shifted uncomfortably against the quilt, tapping the mug against his teeth. Blaine noted the anxious gesture with curiosity and concern. Kurt placed the mug on the floor and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just… Well, it’s just, a little too close to home at the moment.”

“How do you mean?” Blaine asked warily. Kurt took a deep breath and spoke again “Look I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, he’s not forced me to do anything so don’t panic. Sebastian’s just more… experienced than me and he’s keen to move on to other um activities but I’m just not quite there yet, but I mean maybe I should be, shouldn’t I? After all I’m the only Cheerio left who could actually wear white to their wedding, even Becky…”

“You don’t have to do anything Kurt!” Blaine finally snapped surprising Kurt who took his eyes away from the ceiling to focus on Blaine. They were both silent for a moment before Kurt continued, “I know but I don’t want him to loose interest…”

“No buts, seriously Kurt. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you’re not ready for. Besides… no one could possibly loose interest in you, even if you kept them waiting forever…” There was a poignant irony in Blaine’s words, after all his unwavering feelings for Kurt over the last decade was a testament to this very statement. Kurt smiled tentatively at Blaine and he was relieved to see the momentary anxiety dissolve from his limbs, relaxing back into usual self.

Blaine felt an odd sensation on his face and his vision suddenly went blurry. He realised his glasses had come apart in the middle where the tape had finally given way. “Well this tapes finally had it. It had a good…” Blaine stopped talking as he became aware of a blurry figure moving out of the foreground and into his limited line of vision. The blurred edges of Kurt were slowly coming into focus as they came to rest just a couple feet away from his face. He felt him reach into his lap to collect the halves of his glasses that had fallen there and Blaine’s breath caught in his throat.

With his free hand Kurt drew a tentative line across his forehead, smoothing aside the almost dry curls that hung low on his forehead. “I know they burn you but you should wear your contacts more often. Your eyes are sort of…beautiful” Kurt said his voice low and saturated.

Kurt’s sapphire eyes bore into Blaine’s and even with his vision impaired he could still makes out the glinting blue facets. His friendship with Kurt had become a waiting game, always looking for the opportunity to finally confess his feeling. If ever there was a moment to expose himself to Kurt entirely this was it. But Blaine’s courage faltered and all he could reply was a muffled, “…thanks.”

Kurt traced his fingers one final time across Blaine’s prickling skin before withdrawing them, moving to sit beside Blaine with his arm pressed against his. Blaine’s body was rigid, the tension an illusion that might give the impression he had a more athletic built than he really did. The only exercise Blaine got came from dancing in Glee and lugging around his admittedly heavy book bag.

As they settled back into the movie Blaine didn’t even bother to try and re-fix his glasses and Kurt didn’t seem to notice, he’d disappeared back inside the movie the way Blaine would inside a book. Even if Blaine had possession of his new glasses (which he was still waiting for) he doubted he’d be able to see anything but the sapphire eyes that burned on his retinas. Instead he focussed on the music and dialogue until Kurt’s head found it’s way into the crook of his shoulder, nestling the soft hair against his neck. Then even those sounds couldn’t be heard. They were drowned out by the pealing of his heart.

……..

“Are you ok Kurt?” Blaine asked, Kurt was uncharacteristically quiet and this scene never failed to leave Kurt weeping into a pillow or occasionally Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine looked down surprised that he had failed to realise that Kurt had fallen asleep. Not just asleep but dead to the world, as dead as the body that hung limp in the arms of Ewan McGreggor on the screen.

Blaine carefully picked up the remote in his attempt not to jostle Kurt, although it was ridiculous he thought, Kurt was the heaviest sleeper he knew. He flicked the TV off and the room went dark, the only discernable light coming from the moon leaking through the half open curtains, casting faint silvery edges to otherwise invisible objects.

Kurt had turned slightly to his side and Blaine gazed down at his face, the cheek how pressed softly against his shoulder. He could just make out his features, (glad for once to be nearsighted) his jaw and cheekbones accentuated by the subtle balance of chiaroscuro lighting. He loved the way that his flickering eyelashes cast filigree feathered shadows across his face and watched as they danced like candlelight over the skin guarding his eyes. Blaine found himself longing to know what dreams were being projected beneath them.

His eyes wandered down to gaze at Kurt’s lips, which were parted. The breath escaped in time to the gentle rising of his chest and blowing out in heady little intoxicating wisps that made Blaine’s mouth water. With each soft breath his lower lip trembled, the movement making the traces of saliva sparkle in the darkness like the first stars to prick the sky at twilight.

Blaine was utterly mesmerized and he had no idea how long he’d been staring. Could Brittany finally be right about something? Was a kiss really all it would take to make Kurt wake up and see him?

But he couldn’t just kiss him… could he?

He hovered above Kurt for a moment toying with idea in his mind but then caught himself. After what he’d said about Sebastian this evening, how could he even entertain such a notion?

With Kurt now in position to sleep, off Blaine’s shoulder and propped up on a pillow he began to pull away, ready to give himself over to sleep, when a hand unexpectedly curled around his bicep. He froze in the darkness, tense and coiled. After a moment the silence broke and what barely registered as a murmur in Blaine’s ear, Kurt whispered: “Kissumee…”

He’d thought Kurt was asleep, had he imagined those words? They’d bled together to form one word and maybe he’d said something else… but what? The hand still clug to his arm and Blaine was about to prise it away when once again and more clearly Kurt uttered the words: “Kiss me.” Any resolve Blaine had melted away in an instant and he closed the gap between them in the length of a heartbeat.

Blaine’s cupped Kurt’s lower lip with his own as he pressed the top of his heart shaped lip into the parted space between Kurt’s own. Relishing in the way that they fit together so perfectly, as if they’d been designed to be there all along, he paused. This moment had been building inside Blaine for so many years almost like a crescendo and he wanted to savour it for as long as possible.

Finally he dragged Kurt’s tender lower lip a little deeper into his mouth until he could taste the damp flesh on his palette, delicious and sweet. He was elated when the gesture elicited a deep moan from Kurt’s throat and the fingers that still coiled around his bicep dug deeper into the increasingly numb flesh. In fact his whole body was becoming numb, the only sensation he could feel was that of electrified nerves burrowing deep inside the crevasses of Kurt’s lips like a flower taking root. For all he knew his body had melted away entirely.

Breaking away from the kiss was almost painful, he felt tethered to the place like it was his only source of oxygen and he gazed at the way the skin covering Kurt’s eyes crinkled with what he hoped was the same kind of bittersweet pain. It made his heart race and his lips curled into a smile. Tracing a finger along Kurt’s hairline he dipped back towards his face with the joy of a child taking a second cookie from the jar.

Just before his lips found their way home Kurt spoke again, “Sebastian..?” Blaine froze. He was so close that less than a millimetre of space hung between them but it might as well have been the distance of a galaxy.

Blaine rolled away from Kurt, the hand that had held Blaine’s arm letting go with the movement. Tears began to soak the eyelashes that ringed the golden hazel eyes that only a while ago Kurt had been cruel enough to call beautiful. With a heavy realisation Blaine thought he hadn’t broken the spell, the only thing he’d managed to break was his heart.

……

In the dark recesses of Kurt’s subconscious a recently recurring dream replayed. He was gripping Sebastian’s arm, legs wrapped around his waist as they sat on his bed in his dorm at Dalton. He’d never actually been inside his room, afraid to encourage the obvious desires Sebastian had for him, so the image was painted by his own imagination.

He asked him to kiss him twice and then he did, as always. The dream following the formula it did every time, he’d had it so many times that once he’d even woken up with a mouthful of pillow. But tonight the sense of deja vous had shifted; although things were exactly the same they felt disjointed like he was looking down a hallway full of funhouse mirrors.

The kiss was an ethereal and tangible thing that left a physical taste on his tongue, and charged the nerves to the point where they prickled like pins and needles. It had never felt like this…

Sebastian broke away and for a long moment he couldn’t decipher what was different about him. His body bore the same shape; long, confident and clad as always in the Dalton uniform, his hair still just as well styled as his own was the same dirty blonde as usual. So what was different?

Sebastian..? He spoke his name as a question as he realised the difference at last. The once glinting emerald eyes were now a smouldering liquid gold.

Kurt woke with a start and noted the sunlight slanting through the window. He rubbed his eyes and fought to keep them open. As he shifted on the bed he reminded himself not to wake Blaine who was a far lighter sleeper than himself but this gesture proved pointless as Blaine had vacated the bed. Although Blaine was gone the familiar scent of coffee and that elusive spice lingered, coupled with the new smell of ginger and lemongrass from the shampoo he’d given him only hours ago. He couldn’t hear the sound of his shower so he padded down the stairs to see if he’d gone to make breakfast. But Kurt found he was nowhere in site.

At that point he also noticed his bag that he’d left by the coffee table was gone and saw a note folded like a tent on the little table, his name written in Blaine’s careful cursive.

I started feeling really sick, don’t worry it wasn’t your cooking probably just that bug that’s been going around. I didn’t want you to get sick too so I went home, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it to your party. Sorry.
Blaine.