Kurt opened his eyes groggily, feeling gross and heavy, and he soon realized he was still in his clothes from the night before. Without thinking he gripped the bottom of his sweater and pulled it over his head, throwing it towards his pop-up laundry hamper he brought.

It wasn't until he heard a chuckle that he remembered he wasn't alone in his room. Screeching, he pulled the covers over his head, terrified of Blaine seeing his bed head.

"Kurt, relax you look beautiful as always." Kurt froze under his covers. No one had ever called him beautiful. Well at least no one other than his mother, but that didn't count, and it was over ten years ago. So for Blaine to say that, his Blaine, a ghost who was straight, dead, and possibly becoming someone Kurt could see himself falling for which was weird to say since he'd met him yesterday, not even 24 hours ago, was bad. Very bad. Very, very bad.

But before he even had time to think about responding to Blaine, his phone was ringing the opening song from Wicked, his personalized ringtone for Rachel. He reached out to the dresser, pressing answer, sneaking a glance at Blaine sitting on his windowsill, who was watching him with curiosity.

"Hello?" He held his phone slightly away from his ear as Rachel's shrill voice came through.

"Have you spoken to Finn? He hasn't called me yet today, it's almost ten a.m.!"

"Rachel, I haven't seen him, but I'm sure he's still asleep. Goodbye." He didn't even wait for her to argue. This was so like her to demand answers. He wasn't involved in their relationship on purpose; he couldn't understand why Finn put up her, despite the fact that she did have amazing talent.

"Who was that?" Kurt noticed that his bed didn't shift the slightest when Blaine sat on the edge, because Blaine was dead. He was dead.

"My brother's girlfriend." Kurt said, trying not to focus on how close Blaine was, "Thank you for uhh… I've never… It's been so long since…"

"You're welcome." Blaine's smile was so genuine that Kurt wanted to jump into the ocean and freeze to death just to get that smile out of his head. There was no going back now. He was so doomed.

"Kurt! Breakfast in ten!" Kurt groaned as his dad's voice came through the closed door. Blaine smiled wider, if that was possible, and held out a hand. Wary, but not wanting to hurt Blaine's feelings, Kurt accepted it and let himself be pulled to his feet, trying, but failing, to ignore the electricity that shot through him at Blaine's touch.

"Then I told Puck that you can't just capture the flag yourself, it's a team effort, that's why we always lose when we play Black Ops." Kurt pushed a grape around his plate, not even pretending to listen.

"Kurt, sweetheart, since your dad has a meeting, I was thinking you and I could do a little shopping today." Immediately his spirits were lifted. Carole truly was a gift. And that's how he found himself in the dressing room pulling on a very nice suit for his father's-soon to be many- press appearances.

He had spent the better part of the morning with his eyes to the ground, and half the afternoon ignoring the dead shop owner yelling at his son for doing things wrong. It wasn't until he came struggling into his room, arms full of shopping bags, that he realized how much he missed those hazel eyes. It wasn't even fair. It had been 31 hours since he laid eyes on Blaine for the first time, not that he was counting, and he was already a bigger part of his life than anyone he had ever met. There was something so trusting, so familiar about the smile he gave him, warmth radiating from him, even though warmth hadn't actually done that in 200 years.

"Kurt, how was your day?" He ignored the fact that his heartbeat had sped up, and instead focused on his new outfits. He refused to think about the adorable pause Blaine put between his name and his question. It was as if he was saying his name because he was excited or something.

"It was fine, how was yours?"

"Same old, same old." Kurt couldn't help but smile at that, but he did not mean to catch Blaine's eye, and he most definitely did not mean to blush furiously at the way Blaine had his nose crinkled at his own joke.

"What does your normal day usually entail of?" Kurt asked, pretending to be nonchalant.

"Well, I really enjoy people watching. Sometimes I'll sit on a bench in different places of the city and just watch interactions. I also love reading, so if I can get my hands on books I do, but that's a task in itself."

"Why?" Kurt asked, and then realized he had stopped unpacking his shopping bag to turn to Blaine so he turned back.

"I don't want the poor librarian to have a heart attack when one of her books is floating around the place." Blaine was laughing, and Kurt was cursing him and his perfect laugh internally.

"Oh, what kind of books do you like?"

"Mostly classic adventures, Tom Sawyer, Sherlock Holmes, The Odyssey, Wizard of Oz." Blaine was shrugging; his mind in another place, and Kurt felt himself moving towards Blaine before he could stop.

"I could get you some," Kurt wanted to hit himself, he didn't even have a library card here, "I could bring some back for you. As many as you'd like."

It was as if Santa himself had told Blaine that Christmas was coming Blaine's face lit up like no else's, and knowing that he was the one to put it there was the best feeling in the world for Kurt.

"Kurt, I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." He turned back to his clothes, reaching for scissors to cut off the tags, when Blaine wrapped his arms around him. A "thank you" was breathed onto his neck, a whisper of air, with no warmth−a cold reminder that Blaine was dead. It was as if an icy hand had gripped his heart and yanked it out his throat.

"Uhh… Kurt? Were you talking to yourself?" Kurt whipped around to see Finn standing awkwardly in his doorway, towel in his hand.

"No, of course not. I mean, yeah, I was just reciting a play that I saw with Rachel." Finn looked weary, but he seemed to buy it.

"Okay, I was wondering if you wanted to go down to the pool with me."

"No thanks, I don't need all that chlorine ruining my hair color." Finn nodded, looked at him weird again, and departed. Kurt huffed in relief, sitting on the windowsill. Blaine had disappeared the moment Finn had said something, and he could already feel himself getting lonely. He didn't know what to do.