Blaine hadn't said much all day, and he actually didn't know what he should have said. Since he had said goodnight to Kurt the previous night and gone to bed he had felt cold and empty inside.

He hadn't slept much, but instead laid glaring into the darkness and listened to the wind outside his window. The weather was starting to go heavy and fall came creeping in over them, and Blaine could feel it in his mood too.

He kept picturing his mom. His mom smiling at him, hugging him, bringing him to his first day of school, listening to him play his guitar or the piano at a school concert when he was 14.

He wished so much that he had got to hug her one more time, to tell her that he loved her - reached out to her sooner.

He felt so guilty. And angry. Angry with his father that he had called her hysterical and a cuckoo, angry that he had known how sick she was without doing something to help her - that he had stayed away the entire weekend to work even though his wife had died. What kind of man was he?

But most of all Blaine was angry with himself - if he hadn't gone to Washington she might not have gotten sick again, if he had come home when he knew it was coming she could have been better; if he had manned up and talked to her sooner he could have saved her.

*

Kurt leaned against the cold concrete wall while he observed Blaine go through a box of singles. Blaine could feel Kurt's eyes prickling over his skin, and he wanted to turn to look at him too, but instead he kept focus down in the box.

Kurt walked around the boxes of records and started strolling gracefully down the aisle between the cases of vinyl. He looked like he was dancing on purpose, but Blaine knew that this was just how he moved.

He let his fingers stroll over the cardboard while he softly sang along to the song playing on the gramophone on the counter, and Blaine was certain that Kurt didn't know that Blaine could hear him.

The tones of the music and Kurt's voice were relaxing his brain. It was windy outside so there weren't a lot of customers, but those who were stayed longer than usual.

"Can you play that song by The Who?" a dark haired girl asked as she and her friend leaned against the counter.

Blaine picked up his guitar and started checking the strings. The girls looked at each other and giggled as they observed Blaine slowly starting to play.

"This one?" he asked as he started playing Our Love Was. The girls giggled again, flickering their eyelashes and pouting their lips at him.

Blaine played and sang. He desperately tried to discretely see what Kurt was doing, glaring in his direction every time he could see a chance to it, but still being polite and looked at the girls who was swaying in front of him keeping their eyes locked on him, and their little fingers crooked together.

"That was so good. You're so talented," the second girl flirted when he finished. He smiled at them and put his guitar back on the stand in the corner before he awkwardly stood up.

He helped them around to find the records they were looking for. He discussed bands and songs with them, and even laughed at the stories the girls told from when they had been in marching band when they were in school.

As they had paid for their records and were about to leave the brunette placed a hand on Blaine's arm and leaned in to him.

"I'm really sorry about your mom," she said, so low that only Blaine and her friend could hear it. The girls turned on their heels and walked out the store. Blaine dumped down on the stool and stared blankly through the room with the familiar hole growing in his stomach and his heart dropping to the floor.

The weather outside was dark and gray and the wind was howling against the buildings, so the thought of walking through town to go home was something that just had to go over with, despite how much he usually treasured that walk of freedom before he had to enter the house and face his father.

"I'm closing up," Blaine declared, not sure Kurt had heard him. He was standing at the other end of the store looking at the posters on the wall, so Blaine packed up his guitar and started getting the counter ready for the night.

The walk home was silent. Kurt hadn't said a word and Blaine didn't know what to say himself. He wanted to talk to Kurt so badly, and the entire walk he kept shooting him glances from the corner of his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about how great it would be if he stretched out his hand defied the distance between them to hold Kurt's hand.

"I'm tired. I think I'll go straight to bed," Kurt exclaimed when they walked up the driveway to the Anderson house.

Blaine felt like he had been punched in the stomach. All day he had been looking forward to go home and coil up in Kurt's arms - or at least have his presence in his room, be there with him, protect him from doing something stupid; just feel him.

"Oh… okay," was all Blaine could say.

Don't. Come stay with me. Let me hold you and sing to you, Blaine begged in his head, but didn't say it out loud.

He watched as Kurt disappeared down the hall to the guestroom. He considered following him; going to the guestroom to beg Kurt to let him hold him, to beg Kurt to sing to him - but instead he turned and walked to his own room.

He sat against the bed and started playing his guitar. He didn't know what he was playing; he just played random tunes to detach his brain - but before he realized it the melody coming from his guitar had faded into Only You and he felt his cheeks go wet, and he had no idea why.

When he finished the song his fingers stopped moving and he let his head rest against the mattress. Suddenly the guitar felt overwhelmingly heavy, but his arms denied all kinds of action, so he stayed in the position and let his eyes drift closed.

*

Blaine woke up because he was shaking. He had fallen asleep on the floor sitting against the bed with his guitar in his lap. His entire body felt stiff and he nearly couldn't get up from the floor.

He started stripping off his clothes and put on his pajamas, before he checked the clock and walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth. The light was sharp in his eyes, and he felt so cold that his teeth almost clattered.

When he left the bathroom he saw the guestroom door and stopped. It was only 1am. Would it be so bad if he went to see if Kurt was sleeping?

He stood in front of the door for what felt like ages before he carefully knocked. There was no answer so he opened the door soundlessly.

The room was dark except for a moonbeam streaming through the shades, and the sound of Kurt's breathing was quietly filling the room. The moonlight that hit his white cheeks made him look like a China doll - beautiful and perfect.

Blaine felt an urge to crawl into the small bed, put an arm around him and kiss his cheek, but he looked so flawless and peaceful that he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't want to draw him out of his sleep, so instead he swallowed the lump in his throat before he closed the door after him and returned to his own bed.

He didn't close his curtains, but let the moonlight fill his room. He took the pillow Kurt used to sleep with and hugged it close to his chest and dug his nose into the fabric, letting himself fall to sleep like that.

*

Thursday looked more or less like Wednesday had; they went to the record store where there really weren't a lot of customers, so Blaine played his guitar to Benji while Kurt explored the boxes of records that he hadn't been through the previous day.

When they closed up the store they walked home and sat in Blaine's room listening to music for a while before Kurt announced that he was tired and wanted to go to bed.

This made Blaine sad. He knew that there was only one day until Kurt had to leave his house, and he didn't know if he was going home or if he was going back to Washington.

He was afraid that when Kurt was to leave Saturday morning this would be the last time he would see him, and he couldn't do the slightest thing about it.

Blaine's father would ship him off to military school, and he wouldn't be able to send him letters because letters would get checked for drugs as customary in schools like that, and there was no doubt that they would be against Blaine's friendship with Kurt - if Kurt would even want anything to do with him when he knew that he was going to military school.

He wouldn't be able to call him, and he wished that he at least had a picture of Kurt that he could keep in his wallet while he was away.

*

Blaine woke up late Friday and panicked. It was almost noon and he had wasted his last day with Kurt away on sleeping.

He jumped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom so he could shower and hurry to find Kurt. He wished so badly that he could find him in the guestroom when he was ready.

The hot water was stressing Blaine out. It felt like it was running way slower than usual just to annoy him and slow him down. Normally he found it calming and relaxing, but today it only put him on edge and he wanted it to be over with.

Suddenly he stopped in the middle of a movement. Did he just head the door open?

It was ridiculous, why would the door open while he was in the shower?

The running water could be heard in the hall, and everyone in the house knew that if the door was closed it meant that the bathroom was occupied.

He shook his head at his own silly thoughts before he continued to shampoo his hair so he could finish up and get out.

Even though he kept telling himself that he was being irrational he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him - observing him.

He started washing the soap off his body and leaned his forehead against the cold tiles to let a freeze run through his bones. He turned off the water and left the shower positive that he put the towel at the other end of the table.

That's when he saw it; the door wasn't properly closed.

Had Kurt been out there to look at him while he showered?

He knew that his father was at work, so it could really only be Kurt. Would he do something like that? And why?

He started drying himself with the towel, unable to stop a grin from covering his face.

*

The library smelled like dust and old books. Blaine was sitting at the table in the corner and watched Kurt as he walked between the shelves where he looked through the titles and smelled the covers. He looked comfortable in the silence unlike everyone else who came there. Even the people who worked at the library looked like they found the extreme silence awkward and too much.

Kurt didn't. He looked like it was the most natural thing in the world .

Blaine couldn't stop wonder if it had been his imagination running wild or if Kurt really had been in the bathroom earlier. He couldn't exactly ask: "Hey did you sneak in to peek at me while I was naked?" - that would be crossing the line.

He leaned back in his chair and looked down in the book in his hands. The letters were dancing around the pages and it was impossible for him to see them actually forming words. He couldn't stop himself from stealing glances over the top of the book to watch Kurt. Sometimes Kurt's eyes met his through the shelves, and Blaine felt his cheeks flush, so he hurried to look back in the book.

They spent the entire day at the library. Blaine struggled to read, but no matter how many times he read through the sentences they refused to stick in his head.

Kurt didn't read; when he was done strolling through the bookcases he dumped down on the chair next to Blaine and leaned in over the table to rest his head on his arms, so he could look up at Blaine under his long eyelashes.

Neither of them said anything, but Blaine constantly had to push away the thought that Kurt possibly had watched him in the shower earlier that day - naked and washing himself.

When they left the library Kurt pushed Blaine down a little street instead of walking down the main street of the town.

They never walked this way, no one did actually, so Blaine was confused.

They walked a bit down the street as the sun disappeared behind the roofs and the clouds were dark and threatened to break out in rain.

Halfway back to Blaine's house Kurt stopped and pushed Blaine against one of the small houses.

"I like watching you. You're sexy," Kurt whispered into Blaine's ear as he let his fingertips run from his neck, down his chest to end at his hip where he et his thumb slide lightly down the line of Blaine's jeans. Blaine could feel himself grow hard behind the zipper and sweat break out on his forehead, holding his breath in.

Kurt let go and proceeded his way down the sidewalk as if nothing had happened.

Blaine closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the brick wall he was leaning against and exhaled heavily.

It was too much. Why did Kurt make him feel like this? Maybe it was for the best that Kurt was leaving in the morning - he couldn't want Kurt like that. It wasn't right.

There was only really one explanation: they were friends, and they were really close, and Kurt had confused him with his closeness and trust - and his beauty, and sexy body and everything, and soft lips.

No! He shouldn't think like that about his friend. Kurt was his friend. End of story.

Blaine's skin was cold and clammy from the quick spurt of heat and the cold weather, so he rubbed his palms over his face before he hurried to follow Kurt home.

When they came back to Blaine's house they sat down in the kitchen and ate cereal without a word. Blaine didn't dare look at Kurt even though he could feel Kurt's eyes on his face; but he was afraid that if he looked his face would go scarlet, and Kurt would know that he knew that he had been in the bathroom

"Wanna go to your room and listen to some music before bedtime?" Kurt asked insecure, letting his fingertips brush over Blaine's wrist before he pulled his arm away and let it disappear under the table.

"Sure. We could… we could do that," Blaine agreed, already promising himself to keep away from Kurt for the rest of the night to avoid any kind of misunderstandings.

They walked upstairs and Kurt went to the bathroom while Blaine put on a record. To his surprise Kurt sat on the floor instead of the bed next to Blaine when he entered the room.

It was strange - why didn't he want to sit next to him?

It doesn't matter, I had planned to stay away from anyway, Blaine reminded himself.

Yet it bothered him. More than he would admit to himself, and even though he tried acting like he didn't care he couldn't stop himself from looking at Kurt on the floor as he was lying with closed eyes listening to the record.

"I should go to bed. I have to get up early in the morning," Kurt suddenly proclaimed and got up from his spot on the floor. Before Blaine could say anything Kurt had left the room, and all that was heard was the humming from the just ended record on the gramophone.