“-fucking cock slut!”

Kurt’s stomach twisted in the most awful anxiety as he threw his weight around the banister post at the top of the stairs and sprinted down them so fast that the pounding of his footsteps was near faster than that of his pounding heart. He choked back a sob of terror at the sound of his father coming down close behind him, and he almost wanted to just stop and just get it over with, just let his father finally grab hold onto the back of his shirt and yank him back to have his bloody way with him.

Kurt was propelled forward after the last step by his own momentum and went slamming into the front door. His ears were buzzing, his nerves were on end, and he barely had time to let out a screech in frustration when his hands fumbled uselessly with the door knob before a pair of strong, completely enraged arms circled around his torso and pulled him back.

Kurt didn’t struggle when his father did this. Not like he used too. He had learned early on that struggling only made the inevitable punishment all the worse. If he just accepted it and didn’t fight back then it would be over just that much quicker, and maybe then his father might not be as harsh and his bruises might stay blue and not turn black.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, you little whore?” His father hissed into his ear. Kurt could practically taste the alcohol poisoning his breath and somewhere in the back of his mind he wished that he was wasted too, so then maybe he could forget all of this tomorrow.

“Please, please…” Kurt sobbed, though no tears fell. They never did.

A sudden weight shoved Kurt to his knees and he whipped his head around just in time to see and then promptly shut his eyes as a beer bottle was aimed and swung towards his head before-

A strangled scream echoed against the walls as Kurt awoke and shot up in bed.

**********

It quickly became known after his transfer to Dalton that Kurt had a tendency to walk around in his underwear. To everyone, even Blaine, it became a normal thing to see the boy walking around the dorms after curfew with nothing on but his briefs.

It was obvious that he only did it for convenience on nights he was sleeping with someone, which is why Blaine was a bit taken aback when Kurt showed up at his and Matt’s dorm room at five in the morning, clothed only in a Dalton sweatshirt (that Blaine recognized as the one he had lent Kurt last night), a pair of bright red briefs, and -surprisingly- a set of black framed glasses. Blaine didn’t get a chance to comment on any of this, however, before Kurt started talking.

“Hey,” Kurt breathed, sounding nervous, “Would it- Would it be okay if I-”

“Who the fuck is it, Blaine?” demanded an obviously pissed off Matt from his bed on the other side of the room.

Blaine’s eyes widened in embarrassment at Matt’s words and then narrowed in anger at his rudeness when he saw Kurt tense and take a step back as if to take off back down the hall. Blaine knew very well that Matt didn’t like Kurt, he heard about it all the God damn time actually, and he could see that Kurt knew that and appeared almost timid in his presence. Blaine didn’t even want to begin thinking about what words Matt had said that Kurt had overheard either straight from his mouth or second hand that was triggering that reaction.

“Who do you think it is, Matt?” Blaine snapped with a quick turn of his head. He turned back to face Kurt and his heart sank and his hand reached out when he saw Kurt moving to leave. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, “You can stay here. That’s what you were going to ask wasn’t it?”

“No. Well yes, but- no, Blaine, it’s fine. I’ll just-” Kurt fumbled.

Blaine stopped his rambling by taking his wrist and giving it a gentle tug. “Come in,” he whispered, “Lay with me and ignore Matt. He’s an ass and he owes me-”

“I don’t owe you shit, Anderson!”

“-big time, so don’t worry about it, okay?” Blaine murmured.

Kurt smiled and after looking over Blaine’s shoulder to observe Matt then back over his shoulder down the dorm hall he finally gave a quick nod.

Blaine grinned and -with a little too much enthusiasm for the early morning- pulled Kurt into the room and shut the door behind him. He eyed Matt and concluded that he had fallen back asleep and with any luck wouldn’t remember any of this when he woke up. Kurt removed himself from Blaine’s grip and with his usual seductive confidence melting back into his features he strode across the small room and sat down on the still made up side of Blaine’s bed. The side that nobody had ever laid down on before. It made Blaine’s stomach flip. He watched Kurt slide off his glasses with practiced ease, fold them up, and reach across to place them on the nightstand between his and Matt’s bed. Then he saw something he knew that if he hadn’t been paying very close attention he would have missed. He saw Kurt reach his hands to grab the hem of his sweater as if to take it off, quickly stop himself as if his mind had finally caught up with his actions, before taking his hands and sliding them under his thighs to sit on them. When he looked up at Blaine and smiled expectantly, Blaine had to force the smile on his face at first before it became natural once he let the thought slide.

They settled into bed and after some awkward shifting resulting from the realization that there was only one pillow and Kurt deciding to just use Blaine as one instead, Blaine was finally able to try and relax. This proved harder than it should have been though when Blaine was reminded that he was only in boxers and his undershirt when Kurt’s bare calf brushed against his own, and Kurt’s pink lock of hair tickled his nose, and especially when Kurt finally hummed in contentment after getting situated and Blaine swore that the vibrations felt against his collarbone radiated down to the core of his being.

“Is he asleep?” Kurt whispered into his tank top and Blaine knew he was referring to Matt. He looked over to see his roommate’s back to them rising and falling slowly and figured that yeah, he probably was.

“I believe so,” Blaine answered quietly, turning back and tilting his head down so his lips were a breath away from Kurt’s forehead. He waited a few moments in comfortable silence before asking, “Did something happen?”

Kurt seemed to visibly have to shake himself out of a haze, “What was that?”

“Did something happen that made you come here?”

“Oh! Um, no, not really. Just a bad dream. I usually just crawl in with Julian but I… Uh-”

“You came here instead?”

Kurt nodded.

Blaine smiled and then, after a quick debate and hesitation bridged the gap and kissed his forehead. He felt Kurt startle but only for a moment before moving in closer.

“Where would you like to go today?” Blaine suddenly asked.

Kurt gave him a questioning look.

“For our date.” Blaine clarified with a bashful grin so wide his eyes squinted and all that was left to see were the sparkles.

Kurt chuckled fondly, “Don’t you worry about it,” he whispered huskily, “What class do you have first tomorrow?”

It took Blaine a moment to figure out how to tell his brain to speak, “I have math,” he finally managed, “Why?”

“I have a free first thing so I’ll need you to make sure I’m up before you leave.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Blaine assured him quickly, “But you know you can stay here and sleep in, though, right? Matt won’t be here and-”

“No. That’s okay. But thank you. I need to go out.”

“Where?”

“… I’m almost out of cigarettes.”

Blaine ignored the hesitation and didn’t call Kurt out on the obvious lie. After yesterday he figured it best to not push Kurt.

**********

Kurt was a good student really. Considering the multiple rules he had broken every day at Dalton -including but not limited to sex and smoking on school property- it was up to his near perfect marks to keep him enrolled. So, because of this, Kurt found it really easy to skip. The faculty never questioned it if he wasn’t in class because of his attitude and as long as he kept his grades up and his mischief in the bedroom the teachers seemed content to turn a blind eye.

The truth was, though, Kurt had to skip. There was hardly any time between the end of classes and curfew to take a bus into town, and then on weekends when he wasn’t working he wasn’t allowed out of the house. So, in order to maintain just a regular lifestyle, one that included toothpaste and deodorant, he had to skip at least one class a week in order to get his shopping done.

So that’s what he decided to do today. With the promise of a second date with Blaine lingering Kurt wanted to look good. He wanted to wear something besides the dull blue and red blazer for once. Impress somebody like he knew he was capable of. And while he was out getting some new clothes he figured he might as well stock up on everything he’d need for the next week.

So, once Blaine had left for classes later that morning Kurt had made his way down the hall to his own room. He took a quick shower and combed his hair back and into a way he knew would dry well and shrugged on his school uniform because even though he wasn’t going to class, wearing it earned him more respect in stores. He emptied out his backpack so he’d have something to bring his stuff back in before swinging it around and onto his back. As he pulled on his loafers Kurt eyed his nightstand, where he not only kept his condoms and copy of Macbeth but also all of his money, and tried to remember how much was in there. He figured with a quick calculation he should have about fifty dollars which was a little discouraging but nothing he knew he couldn’t work with.

He moved over to the dresser, slid it open, and was sad to see more coins then bills. He took his bag off and opened the front pocket to flick the coins into as he counted.

$44.67.

That was disappointing.

Kurt sighed but zipped up his bag and stood up to go, knowing there was nothing he could do about it until the weekend when he’d be, thankfully, working overtime which would give him a few more dollars then normal and one less thing to stress about that week.

For Kurt it was weird, obviously, attending such an expensive private school where everyone treated money like it was nothing and then having practically none himself. It was the sacrifice he had made though in order to transfer to Dalton from McKinley after the bullying had become too much for him to bear. He had begged his father to transfer him to the boarding school even after Walter Hummel had made it clear that he’d have to use his own expenses earned working part-time in order to get by during the week. Kurt had agreed and thanked him profusely.

And he had been, thankful that is, in the beginning. In theory it seemed like a miracle. He’d get to be away from home -from his father- all week, and then be away from him during the day on weekends to work, and the only price was he had to buy his own toiletries? Seemed like a pretty nice deal at the time. It didn’t take long for him to realize, though, just how expensive not just living but his certain lifestyle was. He had to resort to buying the cheapest everything in order to keep a steady supply of lube and condoms, satisfy his craving for cigarettes, and pay for his crappy prepaid phone.

He had some resources, though. For one thing, condoms and lube were easy to steal from peoples’ drawers when they were basking in the afterglow of a fantastic blow job. Also, with the way Kurt presented himself he was always having people approach him on the street, particularly after dark, trying to sell him various sorts of drugs and alcohol. Through this he had come to know a few people who would sell him a pack of smokes extremely cheap and all it cost from a few of them was a quick hand job every now and then. Easy. Last but not least, there was a convenience store in the heart of downtown attached to the back of this guy’s house, and although it was a cover for a brothel (Kurt had become good friends with many of the girls quite quickly-another great resource for condoms) the guy that stood at the store front always gave Kurt fifteen dollar prepaid cards for just ten dollars.

So, even though he had less money than most of the boys at Dalton spent every day, Kurt knew that he could make it work.

The way into town was one Kurt knew well. He had the bus route and times memorized perfectly and he knew most of the bus drivers personally. He also knew that at certain times of the day he could get away with only paying seventy-five cents instead of the usual dollar fifty.

For some this way of life would be Hell but for Kurt it was Paradise - more often than not.

When he thought back to his life last year, in Lima and at McKinley, it took everything he had not to cry from the memories that still occasionally plagued him. Dumpster tosses and slushy facials that had ruined clothes he had saved his pennies for months to buy, locker slams that left scars and bruises that seemed to be permanently etched into his skin, and names thrown his way that at the time meant something different. Like now at Dalton, at McKinley, they had thrown names like “slut” and “whore” at him but it was different then it was then. As a young sophomore it had been humiliating to be called those things when he had never even kissed a boy. That fact being brought to light hurt more than the name itself.

Then, in the beginning of his junior year, he had finally got his first kiss and it had been from his homophobic tormentor, and newly revealed closeted homosexual, David Karofsky in the middle of the boys’ locker room. He didn’t go home after that. That was one of the benefits of having parents that didn’t care, but it wasn’t really useful for a teenager who didn’t do anything. There had been no one for him to turn to. His father didn’t care about what happened to him because of his sexuality, his mother cared too much and not in a good way, and all of the kids in Glee club just didn’t -couldn’t- get it. They were bullied, yes, but not like him. Never like him.

So he took the bus downtown, the same route he was taking now, and wandered aimlessly for hours and crying silently with his head bowed. Strangers passed without so much as a glance at him. Kurt was so lost in his thoughts, so consumed in his self-disgust, that he didn’t notice the transition from day to night.

This is where everything changed, both for the better and for the worse. The night life of Lima, Ohio was nothing spectacular. Kurt could see that now. But that first night out had been like entering a whole new world. Like Lucy passing through the wardrobe he couldn’t believe how close this entirely different and new way of living had been all this time. People didn’t give two fucks about a whole Hell of a lot once the sun wasn’t up to shine judgment on them. People were loud. People drank. People got high in the skate parks and made love on the playgrounds.

Kurt learned over time that, oddly enough, what got you through the night without any trouble wasn’t being tough or being invisible. It was being friendly. Uncaring and untroubled. In this messed up and enclosed town a fresh face was easily welcomed and embraced into the underground culture.

So, instead of pining over New York and getting there eventually, waiting always waiting, Kurt put himself deeper into Lima. From word of mouth and overheard conversations he discovered bars that would let anyone come in and drink away their sorrows, and a small club with an inch thick of graffiti covering its walls that played music nobody knew but everyone absolutely loved after leaving. He found the small store where he bought his phone cards, attached to what he always thought was an abandoned gas station.

One of his favorite finds had been this small bookstore crushed in between a sketchy Chinese restaurant and a pharmacy. It was one of those bookstores with so many books that they spill out the doorway and have shelves sitting outside, and piles of books lining up the front hallway. Books not separated by genre but instead all mixed up so as you look through them trying to find something you recognize you end up finding ones you didn’t know you would recognize.

Kurt loved it there and was sad to admit that the next day after discovering it he showed up again after school with a good chuck of the money he had saved for his prom suit for later that year, and went through and threw every book that caught his eye into a grocery bag he had brought from home. Paperbacks cost three dollars. Hardcovers are five dollars. Kurt walked out with about one hundred dollars’ worth of books. Well, he didn’t really walk out with them. He managed to stuff about ten of them into his backpack while he -with permission from the now very accommodating store owner- stored the rest of them out back.

The man who owned Kurt’s new found piece of Heaven is named Luca. Just Luca.

Luca was in his early, married to what seemed like a bitch of a woman from what he had told Kurt, and just desperately trying to forget and ignore his loneliness through books.

Luca hadn’t taken much interest in Kurt at first. Who would have? Looking back Kurt knew he hadn’t been much to look at. But after his first spree it had been a bit hard for Luca to ignore him. And as Kurt grew and changed and evolved to look more like something pulled off one of the posters in the club instead of a kid who couldn’t be there, he could tell Luca was becoming more and more intrigued with him and their small talk changed to debates over which Anne Rice novel was the worst, and then soon became discussions long into the night and long past closing time, about life and love and politics and it felt so freakishly adult that Kurt couldn’t help hold his head a little higher during the day. That had been almost seven months ago.

It had taken about a month of going to the bookstore and talking with Luca before Kurt had started actually working there, which basically consisted of doing what he did anyway, except now he was getting paid. Luca had invited Kurt out to dinner - which by that point was nothing new - only this time instead of their usual banter Luca had leaned forward, serious with his hands clasped, and had asked Kurt if he would be interested in working part-time. Kurt had jumped immediately at the offer. He had been looking for a job for months by that point and Luca knew that. They worked out the hours Kurt would need to be at the store over too big hamburgers and too many fries. It was the first night where Kurt felt like he was making some progress in his life.

Kurt lost his virginity to Luca that night.

The atmosphere that had been passed back and forth between them was different during the walk home. Heavier. Suggestive. Unfamiliar. Kurt tried to catch the older man’s eye, but Luca seemed dead set against it with his eyes glued to the sun where it threatened to dip below the horizon, and his hands tense and shoved deep in his pockets. So instead Kurt just watched him, and did it so obviously that he knew that Luca was purposefully avoiding his gaze. He watched the light falling softly through the fogged air from the overhead streetlights dance and ripple over the wrinkles around Luca’s eyes.

They managed to make it back to the safety and protection of the store before anything happened. It was faster than either of them could have comprehended and was too intense to stop. As they approached the dimly lit front entrance Luca opened the door and allowed Kurt to pass by. The electricity that sparked down to Kurt’s toes as he brushed up against the older man had made his eyes fall shut and his breath stutter and clog in his throat.

Then, when the lights stayed off and Luca stayed quiet Kurt had turned, hesitantly and wanting. So desperate. Luca? he had whispered, trying to keep his voice from trembling. He hadn’t wanted Luca to think he was afraid of what they both knew was about to happen.

Kurt remembered everything about that night.

He can recall the feeling - the numbing pain - of his back being shoved into the closest bookcase, of lips crashing that melded together like heated metal though warm, wet, and shaking, and clothes tearing and loud gasps - too loud, always too loud in the turned away silence. He can remember a throbbing that resounded and pounded in his ears and incredible, torturous pleasure and finallyfinallyfinally strong, capable, entirely lust driven arms grabbing firmly around his thighs and hauling him up, forcing him to enclose his calves around the wide torso and being carried in the most ungraceful manner as their lips caught and missed all the way up the narrow staircase.

Kurt had never been allowed upstairs before.

The next morning Kurt had woken up alone. His legs tangled in a mess of stained, white bed sheets, undershirts, and briefs. He crawled out of bed, wincing at the deep, foreign ache that had settled deep in his strained muscles throughout the night, reminding him of last night – ohgodlastnight - and what he and Luca had done together.

As he crept quietly along the old wooden floorboards, the familiar scent of coffee wafted in from down the hall. Kurt moaned out loud before he could stop himself and slapped his hand over his mouth to stop the bubble of giggles in his chest. He grabbed the discarded duvet and made his way slowly and nervously down the short hall towards the small kitchen. Even though Kurt had never been up here before he had always smelled the coffee.

They spent the entire weekend together.

They cooked intricate meals together using spices that had never been touched on the Lazy Susan, took luxurious baths in the cracked tub with glasses of cheap wine and dollar store candles dimly lighting the room, and talked for hours about books. Always books.

And they had sex. Lots of sex.

Kurt had gone from what many would consider a prude to a teenager controlled entirely by his hormones in the span of one glorious night. Kurt begged Luca to take him all the time and he did, against everything. Against the kitchen sink, the dryer, on the stairs, and even pressed tightly against the front store window late Saturday night. Each night Kurt would grin at the ceiling and thank God that his father was away in Seattle that weekend. Everything was wonderful, at least he had thought that at the time.

Kurt started thinking. He could move out of his parents’ house, leave his father. He could sneak his stuff away at night and live here with Luca. Luca could leave his wife. He’d leave his wife for Kurt. Of course he would, right? It was perfect. Everything was.

Or, at least, until it wasn’t.

Luca disappeared Sunday night. Kurt woke alone, the empty space beside him cold and unforgiving. Kurt knew. He didn’t even have to get up, didn’t have to strain his ears to try and hear the sounds of pots being moved and food being cooked. His heart just sank. Dropped into his stomach and there were tears before his eyes could even sting and all he could wonder was what did I do wrong?

It took a few weeks, the end of January and his first day at Dalton quickly approaching, before he got the courage to go back. He found Luca inside, organizing the cash register, and when their eyes met Kurt could tell Luca had been waiting for him. Always waiting.

They didn’t talk explicitly about what had happened but they did tread carefully around the topic. Kurt tried to keep his heart from shattering into unsalvageable pieces as Luca explained and reason and apologized - a million times over - for what had happened and for not thinking, and Kurt used every last bit of his strength to keep it together when Luca made it clear that it could never happen again. He was married and Kurt was far, far too young and just excuses, excuses, fucking excuses.

But Kurt held it together.

Now it was five months later and Kurt and Luca were no closer than they had been that first month, but at least now their relationship was one they could both be comfortable with.

And in a way it was better, Kurt thought. Because without Luca he was able to finally see Blaine.

**********

Blaine felt his phone vibrate in his pocket just as the bell rang signaling the end of class and the beginning of lunch. As the rest of the students around him zipped up their binders and packed up their bags Blaine pulled out his phone and slid his thumb across the screen to unlock it.

Meet me at our coffee shop for lunch? -K

Blaine giggled, adorable and bubbly, as he read the message over and over and brushed his index finger softly over the word our with a giddiness he had forgotten he was capable of. Then, with a quiet chuckle at his incredible good fortune, he placed the phone in his pocket (more careful with it then ever before) and quickly shoved his binder and still loose papers into his bag before jogging out the door with a smile so big his cheeks ached.

He tried not to but Blaine ended up practically running all of the way to the café. He stopped about a block away though and walked slower to pull down his blazer, smooth his hand over his hair, and control his breathing.

As he walked by the large windows he tried to peak around a couple of women sitting in the stools by the table looking out to see if he could catch a glimpse of Kurt and where he was so he’d know exactly where to look when he walked in, but he had no such luck and too soon he was at the door and opening door and walking in the door.

The smell of coffee threatened to pull him towards the counter and the familiar hum of hushed voices crept into his notice like a looming fog, but then he saw Kurt and it all pulled back away like a rushing tide and Kurt was suddenly everything precious in this world and Blaine’s hands itched to hold him underneath the warm sheets of his bed and cradle him close to his chest and whisper wonderful sweet nothings into his ear of undying love and beauty to block out the horrible banter the entire school constantly threw at him. It came to Blaine suddenly and as the tide rolled back and the sounds and smells came rushing in from the distant horizon, Kurt was real and there again but the sun had somehow shifted and he was new.

And he was beautiful. Always so beautiful.

Blaine had always thought there was never anything more appealing to look at then Kurt in a well fitted blazer but apparently he had been wrong. This. This outfit. This was Blaine’s favorite by far.

Leggings. Tight - so tight on his glorious thighs - and made of a beautiful white lace that provided teasing glimpses to the expanses of flawless pale skin (that Blaine had been fortunate enough to see this morning) that met a pair of old combat boots mid-calf. Then, a long-sleeved, black Henley shirt so fitted to Kurt’s broad shoulders and narrow waist that Blaine couldn’t look away as he approached.

When Kurt finally looked up and his eyes met Blaine’s, the blue in his eyes seemed to brighten three shades and he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in a tentative wave that made Blaine’s heart stutter.

“Hey there, cutie,” Kurt greeted with a sweet smile as Blaine approached, “Glad you could make it.”

Blaine knew for a fact now that he had never been this happy so he took a chance and after dropping his bag to the floor next to Kurt’s he leaned over and placed a quick kiss on Kurt’s cheek, “Hello,” Blaine grinned, taking in Kurt’s surprised but seemingly amused expression as Blaine sat down in the chair across from him.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Kurt commented with a raised eyebrow.

Blaine shrugged, “You always put me in a good mood.”

“That’s a lie,” Kurt scoffed.

Blaine put his hands up in mock defense, “Believe what you will.”

Kurt eyed him skeptically before sighing and shaking his head with a fond smile, “Alright. Well, here’s your coffee,” Kurt said, pushing one of the cups across the table, “I hope I got the right kind. Medium drip, yes?”

“Exactly right,” Blaine assured, “Thank you so much,” he murmured, bringing the top near his nose and breathing in the wonderful aroma, “You know, I didn’t expect you to get me anything, I-”

Kurt waved him off before he could finish, “Don’t be ridiculous, Blaine,” he admonished, “Here. Take your sandwich.”

Blaine huffed in mock frustration but his ever growing smile gave him away as he reached across and took the offered sandwich from Kurt‘s hand, letting his fingers linger for a moment, “So,” he began, pulling back to take a small sip of his coffee, “What have you been up to all morning, Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt mirrored him and took a sip from what Blaine figured was probably another non-fat mocha before answering Blaine over the top of the lid, “I went shopping downtown.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. “How did you get down there?”

“The bus of course,” Kurt laughed, “I picked up a few things I needed and then spent the rest on some new clothes. Do you like them?” Kurt asked coyly, gesturing to his torso, looking suddenly unsure.

“Of course- I mean, yes. Yes I do,” How could he not? “Very much so,” Blaine insisted after Kurt ducked his head in embarrassment, “Just… Why are you wearing them now? We have class. English.”

“Actually,” Kurt drawled, “I was kind of hoping I could convince you to ditch and spend the day with me.”

Blaine started. He had never skipped class before and nobody had ever asked him. But this was Kurt asking, so obviously - despite how pathetic he knew it was - his answer was going to be yes. He kept his expression calm and calculating, though - teasing. “Oh, did you now? And what makes you think I’d do something like that?”

Kurt smirked, “To be honest, I was hoping that this new outfit would be enough to convince you.”

Suddenly Blaine felt a pressure against the inside of his leg, and his head automatically ducked down to peak under the table to see Kurt’s boot dragging itself back down his leg before hooking with his ankle.

Blaine heard a snicker and he looked back up to find Kurt resting his chin on his right hand with a completely content expression on his face, making him look so beautiful that Blaine found it down right unfair.

Blaine blushed and Kurt clucked his tongue in amusement before asking, “So what do you say?”

Blaine shook his head, “You already know what I’m going to say.”

Kurt ducked his head but Blaine saw the pleased look, “I know.”

“So where will we be going?” Blaine inquired curiously, reaching for his coffee again, relishing the feeling of Kurt’s foot pressed against his own.

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” Kurt answered simply, “Are you going to want to change?”

Blaine thought about it for a moment, “Most of my clothes are at Dalton,” he said thoughtfully, “But unless it interferes with your plans we could just make a quick pit stop at my house.”

“That would be fine,” Kurt settled, “We have all day, right?”

Blaine beamed, “Right.”

**********

Afternoons were always something Kurt dreaded at home. They were the times when he would have to walk downstairs with a smile for his father, who the night before had pushed him into the closet mirror hard enough to shatter, and a smile for his mother who never even gave an indication that she cared what was happening.

Most of the time Florence Hummel did everything in her power to never acknowledge her son. She spent all of the time both her and Kurt were ever in the house together -the weekends - cleaning the entire house. Every room but Kurt’s at least. Meals were spent in awkward silence over the drone of clanking utensils and his parents’ comments on the weather or their neighbors. She left the laundry basket outside of his room for his clothes and after they were clean she left them in a pile by the door.

His mother ignoring him hadn’t been a gradual thing either. He could pinpoint the time exactly and it had been right after the move from Lima. After his relationship with his father took a horrible turn, instead of pulling away from her husband, she just seemed to cling closer and instead retreated from Kurt.

Losing his mother this way had just been another thing for Kurt to deal with at the time.

She turned a deaf ear to the screams that sometimes escaped his mouth through the late afternoon and into the night, as his father painted bruise after bruise onto his skin with every punch, pull, and shove.

One particular moment that had stood out in his mind, a brief exchange that had left him sobbing into his pillow and numb for days after, had been after the first time his father had ever pushed him down their hardwood stairs.

Kurt could remember all of the oxygen being shoved from his lungs as his body made that final slam into the wall after the last step. He could remember the searing pain taking a moment to register in his mind and waiting and it hitting him and being so completely shocked that none of it seemed real. He was ready for this cruel joke to be over.

But it was real and he was never sure how long it was he stayed there. The light outside went dark and the seconds ticked endlessly away on the grandfather clock. He assumed his father must have gone to bed and passed out. He had never seen him drunk that early in the day before. It hadn’t even been five o’clock yet. But now it was long passed, and just when he thought that it might be a good idea to try and move, possibly get up, and assess the damage caused by his violent spill he heard the familiar, distinct sound of the front door, not five feet from where he was laying, being unlocked and opened. His mother was home.

Kurt was facing away from the door and towards the stairs so he kept his body still and wondered what he wanted her reaction to be. What he wasn’t prepared for was her showing no reaction at all. As he held his breath and waited he heard her stop, just for a moment, before the sound of her shoes against the tiles continued. She had seen him right? She had to have. And she had. Kurt had not been prepared for the incredible hurt, abandonment, and despair that devoured him in an instant as his mother approached only to step over his body and make her way up the stairs. He tried to catch her eyes but it was no use.

She was gone.

**********

They left the coffee shop and after their quick stop at Blaine’s house - which had consisted of Blaine running around like a madman trying to quickly put together an outfit while Kurt flipped through Mrs. Anderson’s book called A Child’s Book of Birds - they found themselves sitting at a bus stop under a huge overhanging tree. Kurt had shyly asked Blaine if he had any change on him, quickly explaining that he had spent his last couple dollars at the café, and Blaine had dug around in his pocket and thankfully pulled out enough to cover the both of them going into town.

The first place Kurt took Blaine to was a small bookstore he had only ever seen in passing. As they approached the front door - kept open by an old brick - Blaine let his eyes wander over the worn, torn, and dog eared variety of books lining the entrance. Titles ranging from The Long Walk by Stephen King to Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

Kurt noticed his distraction and softly fluttered to his side with a natural grace. Blaine let his gaze fall upon him and the way Kurt’s eyes travelled hungrily over the neutral covers. His mouth opened agape at the pale flawlessness of Kurt’s hand as he reached forward with shy curiosity, before deciding upon a novel and pulling it from its bind amongst the others. He became entranced with the way Kurt’s fingertips ran along the cover before he tipped it up and let the wind passing through decide how the pages would fall.

Blaine stared, transfixed, unashamedly at Kurt. Watched his throat move.

Kurt noticed after a moment. Rotating slowly to face Blaine, reaching a hand to brush a stray pink lock of hair from his forehead as he gently places the book back down, biting his lip, “Why are you looking at me like that?” he whispered.

Blaine shrugged, pursing his lips as he tried to hide his grin.

Kurt chuckled softly before taking a single, flirtatious step forward that suddenly put him daringly close to Blaine. Too close for him to resist.

And he didn’t. Blaine let his eyes dart down to Kurt’s pink lips, parted and suggesting, and when he looked up and saw Kurt looking at his own that was what did it. He reached out, aiming for Kurt’s hand and catching his fingers, and pulled him flush against him as he finally pressed their lips together.

It was different and better, so much better, then Blaine had been expecting. Blaine had been expecting Kurt to at least hesitate before reciprocating, but instead he jumped right in, moving his lips even before they met. And it was hungry. Not slow and careful like their last kiss had been. This kiss was one that Blaine smiled around, and the one where Kurt chuckled into Blaine’s mouth when their noses bumped as they tried to trade angles. This kiss was the one where Blaine moved his hands down, shaking but sure, to rest on Kurt’s hips, and this was the kiss where Kurt ran his hands playfully up Blaine’s chest from where they had been pinned between them to settle around Blaine’s shoulders. This kiss felt more free then the other’s had. Happier. Surer of something they weren’t even aware of yet.

Suddenly, a quick sound from towards the open door had them pulling apart faster than they could process.

Blaine looked and saw a man. A man who looked like he could be in his late forties or fifties, leaning against the chipped wood of the door, staring at Kurt with what Blaine thought was a somber expression.

He learned that his name was Luca and it became quickly clear to Blaine that there was a lot of history between him and Kurt. Blaine tried not to feel jealous…and failed.

Luckily though, Kurt didn’t give him a lot of time to ponder. He talked so fast and so passionately, more emotion and happiness on his face then Blaine had ever seen, showing Blaine around the crowded store and all of the books that upon first look appear to have no order, but Kurt proves him wrong as he knows where every book is that Blaine can think to name. He showed Blaine behind the counter and a chair which Kurt claimed is his before explaining that he found it sitting on a street corner downtown one night and just had to have it. Then Kurt dragged him away again to show him his coffee maker that looks like it cost about ten dollars but Kurt looks so incredibly proud of it that Blaine suddenly felt like he was about to burst into tears. And when he showed Blaine his record player and it started playing Buddy Holly before he pressed their bodies together while they danced, danced close and gentle and so, so careful, among the many piles of books Blaine was sure he was falling too hard and too fast but he could never bring himself to care.

Luca stayed mostly out of their way. He stayed back and drifted in and out but seemed to disappear altogether after Kurt pressed a lingering kiss to Blaine’s mouth during his plea to get Blaine to play something for him on the baby grand piano sitting out back. The piano was in tune but didn’t look like it had ever been really played. Blaine couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. He tried to remind himself that there was no reason for these feelings of envy and that he was in no place to be jumping in and hiding Kurt away, but there’s something there, something different between Kurt and Luca, and Blaine knew he’d give anything to have it.

So, after Blaine played a shortened version of “Teenage Dream” on the piano (cut short by Kurt straddling his waist and insisting that an intermission dedicated to making out would be perfectly acceptable) Kurt ran off suddenly, leaving Blaine panting and wanting and desperate for moremoremore, and Blaine heard him yell up the stairs to Luca about food but he can’t be sure, and it doesn’t matter because Kurt is suddenly bounding back into the room and into Blaine’s lap.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Kurt asked, looking far too tempting and adorable with his blue eyes wide and hopeful smile.

“I’d love to,” Blaine answered, before thinking and hesitating, “If it’s okay with Luca.”

Kurt bit his lip and Blaine really wished he hadn’t said anything and Kurt turned his head towards the stairs but turned back and whispered, “He’s fine with it.”

Blaine chuckled without humor, “Are you sure about that?”

“He’s okay with anything I want.” Kurt smirked but there was something else there that Blaine couldn‘t figure out, “But I was thinking,” Kurt continued, apparently sensing the tension as easily as Blaine could, “that we could take a walk around town while we waited for everything to cook. Visit a few shops. I have some books I have to take back to the library.”

“Sounds good.”

“Good.”

They walked through town with their pinkies interlocked between them. Kurt pointed out his favorite shops, reciting which were the best places to get the best finds at the lowest prices, and Blaine had never felt happier. The conversation was light and they move from topic to topic with an ease that Blaine has never had with anyone before, as he lets Kurt control their pace and direction the entire time. They argue designers and discuss reality television and judge other peoples’ clothes while complimenting each other’s. Kurt stops to slip his borrowed books through the slot outside the small library, and Blaine stops to talk guitars with a guy sitting on the street corner outside of the walk-in clinic, and after Blaine throws a ten dollar bill into his case (and catches Kurt watching him with the most fond and heart racing smile) the man - who introduced himself as Zack - asked them to pick a song for him to play especially for them. Any song.

They smiled at each other and tried to talk with their eyes and then Kurt knelt down next to Zack and whispered into his ear, and Zack laughs and Blaine is confused until he hears the opening chords of “Rivers and Roads” bounce from strings under the man’s skillful fingers, and Blaine is laughing and amazed always amazed by Kurt because he had been singing this song all last week, and from the way Kurt’s looking at him now he can tell that Kurt knew exactly what he’s doing and Blaine could almost say he loves him for it.

A year from now we’ll all be gone, All our friends will move away

Blaine knew this song so well, believed in his heart that if the man handed his guitar over that he’d be able to play the chords despite never having played the instrument before. So that’s why he had no choice but to join in. When he can hear the verse ending and a new beginning, the words are on his tongue and anxious to jump off, so he let them.

Nothin’ is as it has been, And I miss your face like hell

The man smiled and laughed and let him take over and then he felt Kurt nudge his shoulder fondly, and for the first time in a really long time everything was pretty much perfect.

“You mind if we go in there? Kurt asked on their way home, halfway turned towards the local farmer’s market and looking back at Blaine.

“Not at all,” Blaine smiled.

The colors inside were overwhelming. Westerville - all of Ohio it seemed - had a color scheme that seemed stuck in the grey scale so in here was other worldly. Organic fruits that didn’t look real and vegetables that actually looked far too good. Wooden boxes filled with carrots, zucchini, squash, sweet potato, and red onions. A hand made sign up front was advertising Fresh Baked Goods, and another corner even had some crafts for sale. Sewn quilts with every pattern and glass bead necklaces.

Blaine wondered how he had never stumbled upon this place before. He looked over towards where Kurt was looking and saw him standing in front of the pile of bright, red apples looking between them and the sign that said they were two dollars and twenty-five cents a pound.

“What are you thinking about?” Blaine whispered, hooking his chin confidently over Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt huffed, “I was hoping to make an apple pie later but…” he trailed off, looking down, and Blaine followed Kurt’s eyes to where they were glancing down at his hand which was holding only a couple small coins.

Blaine thought about it for a moment before speaking, “Well, how many apples do you need?”

“Five maybe.”

“Well, that not too bad, here,” Blaine reached into his back pocket, pulling out the change he had left over from their bus trip out here and handing it to Kurt, “How’s that?”

“Blaine-” Kurt said as he looked over his shoulder at him, “It’s fine really. We don’t have to-” he insisted.

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted, amused, “Get your apples.”

Kurt rolled his eyes but smiled, “Yes, sir.”

After they got back to the bookstore they headed upstairs, and Blaine finally gets to see the tiny house hidden above. They head straight to the kitchen though because Kurt wants the pie to be cooked in time for dessert. Kurt puts on another record - Don McLean this time - and Blaine can’t help but be aware of how wonderstruck by Kurt he is. They dance like they have been all day it seems, and they make a mess and spill the eggs and almost forget to put in the sugar and drop the flour and put in much more than a pinch of salt and Blaine cuts his finger more than once peeling the apples and Kurt eats two slices for every one he actually puts in and they kiss and smear yolk and cinnamon all over each other and as they’re laughing and holding each other up. Blaine watches Kurt and his thoughts suddenly echo the lyrics now just radio static in the background. This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.

Dinner turned out to be more fun than Blaine had previously thought it would be. Luca seemed to have let go of any problems he had seemed to have with Blaine earlier, and the three of them sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen to eat the fettuccine alfredo that Luca seems eager to tell Kurt that he successfully made from scratch, and Kurt seems so proud that Blaine can only laugh at the thought of what these two must go through every time they try and have a meal together.

Luca asked Blaine questions that seem very close to the type of questions a father would ask their daughter’s first boyfriend, and Blaine had this sudden moment of absolute terrible panic where he worries that he misread Luca and Kurt together and oh my God is this-? But no, that was stupid to think. Blaine knew Kurt’s father’s name. Walter. He had heard his parents talking about Walter and Florence Hummel before. Such a lovely couple his mother had said it’s such a shame about how their son turned out.

Blaine wished, as he often did, that he was brave enough to stand up to his parents.

After they all have a piece of pie, which Blaine is surprised to discover actually turned out really good, he looked over at the clock.

7:13pm. Where the hell had the day gone?

He looked back and saw Kurt staring at him longingly. Nervous and twitchy. Blaine cocked his head to the side slightly, a silent question.

“You don’t have to leave, do you?” Kurt asked and the way he does makes Blaine sure that even if he did he still wouldn’t.

Instead he laughed and said, “I should have left hours ago,” he began and before Kurt’s face could fall any further he finished with, “But no, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll head back whenever you do. I’m sure Dalton can handle one evening without me”

Kurt smiled, looking entirely too grateful for what little Blaine had offered him in comparison to what he wished he could.

They clean up the dishes (Blaine washes and Kurt dries since Kurt knows where everything is supposed to go) and then they wander back downstairs and put back all the books they’ve moved from their proper spot on the many shelves, and they put the records away from where they’re scattered all over the front counter and put the record player back in its place on a vintage chair in the far corner of the shop.

Blaine wondered if Kurt was thinking of heading back and despite his anxiety over what his parents were going to say about this when Dalton inevitably called them, he couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t going back anytime soon.

And they didn’t. Once they did a final look around to make sure everything was back to Luca’s standards, Kurt took Blaine’s hand and tugged him back up the steep set of stairs. At the top he turned around and put his finger to his lips and angled his head towards one of the two closed doors and whispered Luca. Blaine nodded to show that he understood the need to be quiet and the two of them headed down the small corridor and back into the kitchen.

“Would you like some tea?” Kurt asked in a hushed tone, letting go of Blaine’s hand and heading towards the kettle.

“Yes please.” He’d do anything just to stay with Kurt a little while longer.

Kurt got the water boiling and took out two green tea bags and two chipped ceramic mugs that looked hand painted.

Kurt grinned, sheepish, as he leaned back against the counter, “I got those at a flea market a few years back. I’m not sure how they ended up here, but.” He shrugged, “So, would you like anything special in yours?”

“Oh, just make it however. The same as yours. Surprise me,” Blaine stumbled.

So he watched as Kurt poured the hot water from the white kettle into the two small mugs over the tea bags, and then added a splash of milk from the small carton in the fridge, and a teaspoon of honey from a jar in the near empty top cupboard.

They made their way back down the hall and giggled as they passed Luca’s room where loud snores were radiating from. Kurt went to his door and had to give it a quick shove before it gave, and then he moved out of the way so Blaine could pass, but not without giving him a quick kiss on his shoulder on the way by that made Blaine’s toes tingle.

Kurt’s room was everything and nothing of what he had expected.

There wasn’t a bed per say. Just a really comfortable mattress on the floor covered in pillows, sheets, blankets, and quilts. A bookshelf that looked like it was about to collapse under the weight because there was so many books, a pile of clothes that looked neither obviously dirty or clean, a Dalton vest across the back of a kitchen chair beside the window, magazines scattered and cut up, a couple of empty beer cans in the corner, a full ashtray by the bed, an old Toshiba laptop plugged into the wall, and what looked like good quality art supplies scattered all over the place.

“Sorry about the mess,” Kurt muttered, stepping with practiced ease over everything towards the bed.

Blaine tried to follow, placing his feet where he thought Kurt had exactly, “Don’t worry about it,” he assured, “So, do you actually live here or…?”

“No,” Kurt sighed, not sounding too happy about that, “No, just this is where most of my stuff is because this is where I spend most of my time. But no, I live with my parents.”

Blaine nodded, finally making it to where Kurt was and carefully sitting down next to him on the warm comforters and leaned forward to take a sip of his tea.

“Would you ever make love to the Devil?”

Blaine spluttered and barely heard Kurt laughing over his violent coughing.

“I’m- what? Why?”

Kurt shrugged, still laughing, “I don’t know. It’s a conversation starter.”

“How the hell- What the- How is that a conversation starter?” Blaine demanded.

Kurt just laughed harder.

They did end up talking though. A lot.

Blaine talked about himself more than he ever had before, mostly because nobody had ever cared. But Kurt seemed to. He asked questions that Blaine actually had to think about the answer to and Kurt’s face actually looked like he was listening, which made Blaine talk about things he normally never talked about. He told Kurt about his father and the pressures for him to do good in school from both of his parents, and his fears about school ending and that question of what next, and his fear of failing at anything he tries, and about his older brother whom he loves but can never seem to truly connect with, and he even opened up to Kurt about his past with bullying and the violence and the hopelessness. It was like a dam breaking and releasing years and years of pressure that had built up. And Kurt, unlike anyone else he had ever tried to talk to, seemed to understand.

Kurt told him about his dreams to go to New York. He didn’t mention his parents and Blaine didn’t try to bring it up again after it was obvious Kurt wasn’t going to talk about it. But Kurt told him about the future. Where Blaine was always looking back Kurt was looking straight ahead. He gushed about the apartment he would someday have and the awards he would win and shows he would see and clothes he would wear. He wanted to design clothes and conquer Broadway and he wanted to paint and write and take pictures of every place in New York City that hadn’t been photographed yet.

Somehow they both ended up on their backs, lying on Kurt’s bed over the covers, with their hands clasped between them. The constant conversation they had been maintaining before had died into comfortable silence occasionally interrupted by what time do you think it is? and are you still awake? and Kurt’s thumb flicking at his lighter as he touched the end of a cigarette to the flame.

They eventually played rock-paper-scissors to decide who would be the one to sit up and check the time. Blaine won. Kurt scowled and started to roll away with a mock frown and Blaine couldn’t resist and reached over to wrap one arm around Kurt to drag him back, give him a quick kiss that landed on his jaw, before pushing him back away and up with a laugh.

Kurt blindly fumbled for one of their phones in the dark and Blaine saw him wince and squint as he looked at the bright screen in the now pitch black room.

“It’s just past eleven,” Kurt whispered, “Guess we’re staying here tonight.”

Blaine nodded.

“Unless you don’t want to, I mean.”

Blaine realized a second too late that without being able to see him of course Kurt would take his silence badly.

“No, no, no. I want to stay. We’ll stay. Sorry, I nodded and- Yeah. I want to stay.”

Blaine heard Kurt laugh softly before whispering, so softly Blaine almost missed it, “Good. I want you to stay, too.”

TBC