Kurt woke up on Saturday morning to find himself face to face with a pair of big, staring eyes in a grotesque, pink face. He let out an involuntary shriek and yanked the covers up to his nose while Finn exploded with laughter, still clutching the pink unicorn balloon from the fair and nearly matching it in colour.
“Finn!”
“Oh man, you should have seen your face! Priceless!”
Kurt flung a pillow at him and scanned the room for heavy, cheap objects that he would not miss. Finn seemed to sense the danger and fled, galloping down the stairs and making a racket like a horde of stampeding wildebeest. Kurt was fuming.
“There had better be coffee waiting for me when I get down there, Finn Hudson, or I’m not responsible for my actions!”
There was no reply and Kurt grumbled as he got out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. He was about to close the door when a faint ‘ding’ announced a new text and he backtracked to see who on earth was texting him before eight on a Saturday morning. His friends had learned not to do that the hard way. All his annoyance melted away, however, when he saw the name on the display. Blaine. Blaine was texting him, asking him if he was free tomorrow. Amazing, wonderful Blaine who had kissed him at the fair as the fireworks lit up the sky. Something warm glowed in his stomach, spreading out, and by the time he has texted Blaine back, agreeing wholeheartedly to the point where he thought he might have come off a little pathetic, his entire body felt light and warm and glowing.
He practically skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen, earning him a raised eyebrow from his father and a smile from Carole. Finn had, wisely, chosen to hide behind the newspaper comic section.
“So how was the fair, Kurt?”
Kurt looked up at Carole, who was still smiling, but had a rather shrewd look in her eyes.
“Oh, it was great. I mean, the food was terrible, of course, but otherwise it was all good. The carnies weren’t so bad, actually, and we went on so many rides.”
Carole’s smile widened and Kurt mentally chastised himself for sounding so overeager. Carole was no stupid woman. She gave him another one of her looks.
“What was your favourite thing? Finn could take Rachel tomorrow and it might be good to know if there’s something they shouldn’t miss.”
“Oh, the fireworks. Definitely the fireworks.”
Finn poked his head out from behind the comics.
“Fireworks? Dude, that’s kind of lame.”
“Finn, I’ve told you not to call me dude! It’s – “
“… and besides; who says I’m taking Rachel anywhere?”
Kurt let out an exasperated sigh.
“Finn, she’s been talking about that fair for the past three weeks! A mentally challenged beetle could have taken the hint! She wants you to ask her to the fair and, quite frankly, you should. It’s very nice and very romantic and you’ll both love it. Now stop being so annoying and pass me the milk.”
The rest of the morning passed in reasonably amiable silence. Finn was not above communicating only via grunts and grabby hand gestures in the morning and Kurt seized the opportunity to replay the events of the day before and daydream about Blaine. When he had finished helping Carole rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, she shot him a funny look and a half-whispered “So the fair was very romantic, was it?” before disappearing into the living room, leaving Kurt flustered.

Sunday passed in a happy blur. Kurt had agreed to meet Blaine at their usual coffee shop and, upon seeing him, Blaine all but pinned him to the ground in an embrace that was almost like a tackle. They had coffee and talked about the fair and Blaine was not able to keep from touching Kurt the whole time. He held his hand, slung his arm around his shoulder and, later, his waist, and sat so close to Kurt that their legs touched from feet to hips and Kurt had to move a little, blushing scarlet. After eliciting an “Awww” from the girl at the counter and several jealous looks from the old woman who used to wink at Blaine whenever she had the chance, they threw out their empty cups and left. Next, they went to see a film, but Kurt had no idea what they were watching. Blaine had held his hand all the way to the cinema and now, sitting next to him, he could focus on nothing but the feeling of Blaine’s fingers and the way they interlaced with his. Then Blaine lifted the armrest between their seats, something Kurt had not even known was possible, and slipped his arm around his waist to tug him closer. And Kurt was gone. It was two hours of warm, fleeting touches and tentative kisses in the dark and it was absolute bliss.
When they were back outside, Kurt could not have identified the main character, but he was intimately familiar with Blaine’s mouth and the way his breath would hitch and he would giggle a little when Kurt would burrow into his side.
After the film, they went for a walk, which turned into a race, which then turned into a snowball fight, which turned into rolling around in the snow, laughing. They emerged looking every bit like tiny white golems and Blaine insisted on bringing Kurt home and lending him a sweater to wear now that his own was soaked. It felt like the perfect ending to a perfect day when Blaine pulled him in for a long kiss before letting him go with many promises to call him the next day.
Kurt had just closed the front door behind him when he got a text from Blaine.
“Mum says I’m behaving like a lunatic and wants to know who ‘this Colin person you’re always talking about’ is. I want to tell her you’re my boyfriend. We are boyfriends, right? Right?”
It took him almost a minute and several deep, calming breaths to tap out a reply. It was even harder to keep his calm as he called out a greeting to Carole, who was watching TV in the living room, and climbed the stairs two at a time. Finally in his room, he closed the door, crossed to the bed, flopped down on it, buried his head in his pillow and squealed.
He had a boyfriend. He had Blaine and Blaine had him and it was quite possibly the best feeling in the world.

The happy bubbly feeling did not die down overnight. On Monday, Kurt went to school with a broad smile plastered on his face. He did not even realise that he was singing to himself until he caught Mercedes staring at him and he surprised himself by smiling at everyone he met, including a very confused Karofsky. By the time glee practice started, his cheeks were actually sore from so much smiling, but he could not help himself. Kurt found himself sandwiched between Rachel and a very excited Mercedes, who was clearly itching to ask him about the fair. He relented and used the last minutes before Mr Schuester showed up to tell them about Friday and Sunday. Mercedes whooped.
“You kissed! I told you it was a date! You should always listen to me.”
“Keep your voice down, Mercedes! Finn doesn’t know and I’d like it to stay that way. He might tell dad.”
Rachel gave him a puzzled look.
“So? He’s bound to find out eventually if you keep going on dates. And you know he’ll support you.”
Kurt exchanged a look with Mercedes before turning to Rachel.
“Okay, Rachel. You cannot, under any circumstances, tell anybody, promise?”
“Er. Okay.”
“Okay. Well, I can’t tell my dad I’m dating Blaine because Blaine is the son of the man who killed my mum.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open in shock.
“He killed your…”
“In the accident, yeah. He was the drunk driver. And he’s also the only person I think my dad truly hates. And Blaine and his dad have the same name as well, so if I bring him home or even just mention his name, my dad will know or at least make that connection.”
Rachel made a little choked-off noise of sympathy.
“How does Blaine feel about it all? I mean, he isn’t to blame for anything, but doesn’t it feel… strange for him to be dating the son of the woman his dad killed? Is he really okay with it?”
Kurt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It had been nagging him for a while, but he had always managed to brush it off, telling himself that he and Blaine were just casual friends who met up for coffee and that there was no need to bring it up. Now that he could not use that excuse anymore, he could see how flimsy it had been in the first place.
“Well… he doesn’t actually… know… about… about it.”
“What!”
“He… The first time I met him I panicked and gave him a fake name and now I’m sort of… stuck. I mean, I can’t exactly go up and say ‘Hi Blaine. You know how I told you my name is Colin? I lied. I’m actually Kurt Hummel and your daddy killed my mummy. Want to go out?’ now can I?”
“So you’re lying about your past and your name to your own boyfriend? And you can’t tell your dad because he’ll hate him? And you can’t tell your boyfriend because then he’ll hate you?”
“That’s… that’s pretty much it, yeah.”
“Kurt, that’s terrible!”
Kurt could almost feel himself deflating. And he had been smiling that very morning. How was that possible? Mercedes patted him on the back.
“Rachel, lay off him. He thought he was never going to see Blaine again that first time. Wouldn’t you give a false name too instead of bringing up a painful past with a complete stranger? He was being considerate. It’s not his fault that it backfired.”
“But it’s wrong! He should tell him the truth!”
Kurt sighed.
“I know. But I can’t. These things never happen to me, Rachel. I get slushied, shoved into lockers, threatened, insulted and thrown into dumpsters. I crush on people who don’t like me, can’t like me that way and then I get heartbroken. What I don’t get is a sweet boy who actually likes me back, and then when I finally do, I have to pretend to be someone else. It’s not fair. And I know I’m going to have to tell him, but I’m just not ready to lose him yet.”
He was saved from having to listen to Rachel’s next argument by the arrival or Mr Schuester and he quickly turned his attention to the blackboard. Then, somebody squeezed his shoulder and he looked round to see Mercedes give him a small smile. She looked like she might cry.

Kurt pushed aside Rachel’s comment and spent the following days immersing himself in the wonderful feeling of being a boyfriend. He could not help it and every time Blaine texted him or called him, a wonderful warmth would engulf him and he could forget about every single bad thing that had ever happened to him. In four days he smiled more than he usually would in a fortnight. He also found that quite a lot of people had started smiling back at him, even Karofsky, although he looked like he did not know exactly why he was doing it. On Friday, he actually approached Kurt at his locker with a nervous smile, asking him to meet him in the school library during lunch break. Kurt was completely dumbfounded and agreed before he could stop himself. Karofsky beamed at him and walked off, leaving Kurt confused but taking Karofsky’s nervousness and genuine smile as a sign that he was probably not being lured to the library for a slushie ambush. It was weird, though. The thought of a friendly Karofsky was almost more unnerving than the brooding, violent exterior he had shown so far. Still, Kurt thought, Karofsky was probably just looking for someone to tutor him in French or chemistry or something like that. After all, he had wanted to meet in the library. Yes, that was probably it. It had to be.

When the bell sounded, signalling the start of the lunch break, Kurt found himself walking towards the library, his head buzzing with equations of the second degree and with absolutely no idea how to solve them. He sincerely hoped Karofsky would not ask him for help with his math homework because he had the nagging feeling he had missed a few crucial points when the assignment was set and explained to them. He tiptoed past the front desk where the tiny old librarian was taking a nap face down, his hearing aid lying by his hand almost a foot away from his ear, and immediately spotted Karofsky’s hulking form at the very back of the first row of shelves. He made his way over and there was a silent moment when neither of them knew what to say. Finally, Kurt put his bag down on the floor and sat down on one of the wooden chairs surrounding a nearby table. He let out a breath of air.
“So.” He felt incredibly awkward. He wanted to say “What do you want,” but he did not want to sound rude. Besides, it had never been wise to mouth off to a football player, and Kurt knew that all too well. He settled for a more neutral question.
“So. Was there something you wanted to talk about?”
“No.”
“Okay. Well. Did you need tutoring?”
“No. I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were.”
“Good. Because I’m not.”
Kurt was starting to get seriously annoyed.
“Well then what do you want?”
“Hey, watch it Hummel!”
“My life is too short for this. Find me when you can form complex sentences.”
Kurt rose and hoisted his bag up on his shoulder, but a big hand closed around his wrist, preventing him from leaving, and the unease from before came back.
“Wait! Just wait! Jeez, do you have a time of the month? You’re so hot and cold, smiling one second and then mouthing off the next.”
“I don’t have to listen to this. Let go of me, Karofsky.”
Karofsky tightened his grip on Kurt’s arm and something flared in his eyes.
“No! Stop treating me like I’m stupid! You think I’m stupid, don’t you? You think you can just play coy and smile and flaunt – “
“Let me go right now!”
“… flaunt it right in my face and then just walk away? You can’t! You can’t! It’s not fair!”
Karofsky looked angry, but there was something else there, too. Kurt took a step back when he realised what it was. Desperation. Karofsky pulled on his arm and for the first time since walking into the library, Kurt was scared. He did not want Dave Karofsky to look at him like that with those dark eyes. Karofsky shook his arm.
“No! You can’t do that! It’s not fair! You’re being unfair! Stay still!”
But Kurt kept squirming, willing himself to ignore the way Karofsky’s grip on his arm was becoming increasingly painful. He needed to get out. This was not right and there were no teachers to help him. The pain in his arm spiked and he let out an involuntary yelp.
“Please! Let me go! Just… ah! Just let me go! Please!”
Karofsky blinked and looked down at his own hand where it was crushing Kurt’s arm like he had only just noticed he was doing it. He let go and blood flooded to Kurt’s fingers again as the relief spread through his body, but then Karofsky took a step forward and Kurt’s heart plummeted into his stomach.
He was completely, utterly unprepared for it when it happened. He felt big hands clasp his face awkwardly and the next second, Karofsky crashed their mouths together. He could not breathe, could not move, could not think. His head was filled with a shrill screaming and he needed air. Karofsky finally pulled back and Kurt inhaled great lungfuls of air with the desperation of a drowning man. He looked up to see Karofsky leaning in again. He flinched.
“No!”
Karofsky froze. His eyes widened with hurt, but almost as soon as it appeared, it was gone again and his face registered nothing but menacing anger.
“You…”
But he was interrupted. The ancient librarian had finally woken up and was now peering up at them with a bewildered expression.
“What’s going on here? The library isn’t for shouting matches, you know. And at any rate, you two should get going, the bell’s about to sound. Don’t want to be late for your next class now, do you?”
Karofsky let go of Kurt’s face and it took all of Kurt’s willpower not to slump to the floor. He mumbled some sort of response that seemed to satisfy the man enough to shuffle back to his desk and then he was once again alone with Karofsky. The other boy took one step forward and Kurt flinched again, and once more there was the fleeting look of hurt on Karofsky’s face before he composed himself, leaned in and snarled: “You will not tell anybody about this, got it?”
Kurt nodded fervently. He could not prevent himself from letting out a small whimper. Karofsky stared at him.
“Anybody hears about this and you’re dead. Because I will come after you. And you can’t hide from me.”
Kurt’s legs finally gave out and he collapsed on the floor. When he looked back up, Karofsky had gone and he was alone in the silent library, cradling his throbbing arm, terrified and shaking from head to foot. He heard the door slam shut behind Karofsky and slowly counted to twenty. Only then did he let the tears fall.