"That's nice," Kurt sighed happily. "Well, I'm glad the apartment doesn't suck as much."

They were sitting in a small caf�, against the window. Kurt had been early so Rachel suggested they went there so he could taste "the best tea in town, Kurt, I swear!" and then they could go up to see the apartment.

"Yeah, me too," she beamed, surrounding the hot beverage with her hands. "It's a shame you aren't there with us, though," she went on and Kurt distinguished a certain intentional tone in her voice. "I mean... you could still join us, if you wanted to."

He looked up at her. He breathed quietly, thinking about it and how it would be. On one hand, he hadn't told her anything yet about his first day and his building in Cobble Hill –that was much prettier than Bushwick in his opinion-, the lovely furniture and the... odd roommate.

There was something weird about Blaine; even though he seemed to be very confused about his feelings towards Kurt and one moment he was sweet and then he was sort of a jerk, he was never... well, an actual jerk. At least not that Kurt could remember; after all, most of the times he himself had started the quarrels. Also, he couldn't deny the fact that despite all those things, he still liked Blaine. Good looks aside, he was fun to be with –and to argue with-, they even had the same interests and he was supposed to be a really nice person (hell, he was still allowing a total stranger to live with him now, wasn't he?)

But it still didn't feel right to live in that place.

He looked out the window. The sky was an even, pearl gray, while far and up on the horizon there was a splodge, much a darker tone.

"I..." he hesitated. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You can live with us instead of with someone you don't know."

Ouch. He literally cringed at that sentence. She was totally right, how could he possibly be unsure of this? He could live with his brother and one of his best friends and instead, he was choosing to stay with a stranger he had only met a day ago.

"Look, let me just think about it, okay?" he inquired, staring at her until she nodded, resigned. "Perhaps I scream yes in your face as soon as I put a foot in the place."

Rachel dropped her gaze and grinned at him yet again. "Who knows," she lifted her steamy cup of tea.

"Who knows," he affirmed, chuckling as he imitated her and clinked their mugs together.

"So, tell me about this guy, Blaine, was it?" she said, leading her drink to her lips.

"Yeah," Kurt sighed, all the sudden feeling exhausted and his stomach swoop at the same time. "Blaine."

----------

It wasn't Kurt's usual style but it was one that could certainly fit him now that he was going to live in New York. It was dainty and sort of vintage and it had a very charming, calming, rusty flair; it was nice and daring and fun and relaxing. So, naturally, Kurt's jaw dropped as soon as Rachel slid the big and heavy, painted, steel door, revealing the –if not too big- spacious place that smelled of wood and chamomile and rustic.

He immediately thought of a few changes he would make as regards the furniture and some stuff he'd definitely buy in a flea market or something like that, since it definitely suit the style of the apartment.

"So?" Rachel said with a singing voice, clearly comprehending the expression in Kurt's face and decoding his thoughts; they weren't best friends for nothing. "You like it?" she asked, instead of pushing so directly.

"Rachel... It's lovely," he said, voice breathy and eyes dreamily wandering over the place; one of his favorite parts was a large, tall wall of shelves that divided what would be the living room from an empty room (what would probably be Kurt's room).

"So you're moving in?" she asked infinitely hopeful, trying to –unsuccessfully- hide her eagerness.

He looked around again. The truth was that he could actually picture himself living there, he totally could. Drinking tea and coffee lying on the couch, Rachel singing in the shower, Finn sleeping in or coming from the groceries store, having forgotten a quarter of the things he had to buy.

He looked down to his right, where Rachel's vibrant eyes were nailed to him, almost about to pop out of their sockets.

"No."

Her face dropped faster than the lightning that travelled the sky at that exact moment.

"What do you mean, no?" she repeated.

"No," he confirmed, ruefully and full of guilt.

"Kurt, are you seriously choosing a stranger that's seemingly cyclothymic over us?" she spoke the words on his mind.

"He's neither cyclothymic nor bipolar nor anything, we just... have a weird relationship but he's really nice and actually, we sort of... clicked," he admitted, shrugging, feeling something flutter in his chest again. "And I know, I know it's absurd and I basically have no reason to do so, but..." he said. He felt too guilty and stupid and he knew deep down that there was actually no motive for him to feel that way; it wasn't like Blaine was expecting him to stay forever and to be best friends. But he couldn't help it, that sense of betrayal and sort of... more guilt?

"But what?" she pushed, sounding on the verge of both impatient and upset.

"It wouldn't feel right," he let out. He cursed on the inside. Rachel frowned and even Kurt wasn't sure what he meant, but he shook his head. "I don't know, Rachel, please, just... Trust me on this," he begged, still unsure of what the impulse he was obeying consisted of. "Please?" he pleaded, voice high and eyes big.

"Oh, Kurt..." she sighed, her eyes softening and blinking slowly. "It's okay; it's your life, but... Just promise me, as soon as you don't want to live there anymore, you'll let us know and come straight here," she asked, reaching out to play with his hand. "Home," she nodded with a little, tentative grin.

A discomfort settled back on Kurt's body as he agreed, returning the smile, feeling unbalanced and, to be fair, somewhat lost.

----------

By the time Kurt arrived at the apartment, he was both relieved and confused the sky hadn't started to fall down to pieces. He was positive a downpour would unleash the moment he began walking to the subway, yet instead he had been attacked by a really strong wind and nothing more.

He opened the door to the building with the key Blaine had given him that morning, only asking him to return it before five thirty –it was barely past four o'clock-, time when he had to leave. He went up in the elevator –no longer preoccupied about the abrupt movements and somewhat disturbing noises- and entered the apartment; his new apartment.

He would throw in his pajamas, fix himself a cup of coffee –enough with the tea-, lie on the couch, watch some television and probably fall asleep; simple, yet cozy and convincing enough.

And he didn't have to feel any remorse about being lazy and staying in for the second day in a row because that was exactly what the weather was dictating him to do and he had already made plans with Rachel and maybe Finn for going down to Manhattan the next morning and have a very touristy day, visiting all the spots they loved so much and that were so common for a first time in New York. Not that it was theirs, but to them, the excitement would always be there. They were living in New York City now.

"Oh, thank God," he heard Blaine's already familiar voice coming from their rooms. "I was afraid you wouldn't be here on time."

When Kurt looked up from the teaspoon he was too focused on while scheming his afternoon, swirling around the milk foam in his coffee, he found something he wasn't ready for.

Blaine had clearly just gotten out of the shower and he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"It's still threatening to storm out there, isn't it? But I don't think it will be anytime soon," he commented, walking over to the entertainment center against the wall, fidgeting with his wristwatch. "I was worried you might still be on the street when it started raining but I see you're not wet," he pointed out, greeting him with a welcoming smile.

Beads of water were dripping from his damp curls to his neck, sliding down his muscled chest and his perfectly toned back –which Kurt found himself amazedly gaping at as Blaine continued putting his watch back on.

"You're wet," he stated flatly, hearing his own voice airy and high.

Blaine looked at him and frowned with an amused smile. "I just took a shower," he pointed out, as though it was obvious.

When he walked past him on his way to the refrigerator, throwing him a warm, quick smile, a whiff that was wonderfully delightful reached Kurt's nose.

He didn't turn to even try and continue the practically non-existent conversation; the less time he spent drooling and ogling, the better.

He recognized the pouring in a glass and sensed the strong aroma of the orange juice.

Blaine surrounded the breakfast bar, apparently rather comfortable with the fact that he was partially naked –either it was that or he simply wasn't aware of it. He took the keys Kurt had left on the surface, twiddling them between his fingers.

"We should make copies of these if you're gonna stay," he said in a casual tone, putting his elbows on the bar, the muscles in his arms flexing.

Kurt literally had to bite his tongue back from saying "Don't you wanna throw a t-shirt on?", because honestly, this wasn't precisely annoying but it wasn't natural, either. Still, saying it would be admitting that he's not comfortable with this guy's perfect, damp torso, and he rather Blaine didn't know that.

"How did it go with your friends?" Blaine asked, putting the set of copper keys aside and smiling at him.

"Great," he beamed back. "They're already well in settled in their new place and everything," he grabbed a magazine lying not too far from his hand; Blaine picking up a Vogue issue from time to time was something they had discussed already the night before and something Kurt approved of deeply.

"Yeah? That's nice, did you get to see the apartment yourself?"

Kurt waited for a beat. "Yes," he sighed.

"And? How does it look?" Blaine pressed him to continue after a moment.

"It's wonderful," he smiled at him pointedly. Kurt, you're being stupid. "It has actually nothing to do with the picture we saw on the internet," he added casually.

"Oh," Blaine's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah, but in a good way; it's really, really nice and the street isn't half as bad and it's actually bigger than we thought. I mean, as far as the pretension of a couple of eighteen year olds living in New York goes, right?" he got no reply. "And Finn fits quite comfortably, so..." he joked, Blaine already knowing about Finn's tallness.

He hummed. "Huh..." he said nothing for a moment, suddenly looking sort of uncomfortable. "And..." he stopped in his tracks, closing his mouth. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if the place is big enough for all of you and is actually nice and everything," he shrugged. "Don't you wanna live with your friends rather than with a stranger?"

"Are you kicking me out?" he inquired with a teasing smile.

"No, silly," he chuckled. "I mean, you say you could all actually live there and they're your friends," he shrugged quickly. "Granted, is no Cobble Hills but you wouldn't have to deal with Sebastian anymore. Or with me for that matter," he laughed, openly staring at him.

"Gee, thanks," he muttered, jokingly faking bitterness.

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" he hurried to mend, gesturing wildly with his hands. "It's just because, well... Sebastian's an ass, you said so yourself, before you even got to know him, that's it and... well, you and I are kind of..."

"I like you," he cut him. Even though he wanted to know what Blaine's opinion was of him –or regards their dynamics- he thought it was wiser to finish the conversation as soon as possible. "And I like Sebastian, too," he decided to focus again on the dull yet graceful clothes ornating the pages. "He's fun."

He was well aware of Blaine's expectantcy, waiting for him to answer the original question.

"So..." he pushed once more nonetheless, oblivious to Kurt's way of communicating and above all, of dismissing the topic.

"Geez, Blaine," he put down the magazine. "Yes, they did ask me again if I was sure and if I wanted to live with them now that I know what the place looks like and that there is room," he ended, nailing his eyes to Blaine's impatient, anxious ones.

Again, he got no reply.

"I said no," he clarified casually. He licked the tip of his index finger and turned the page, tearing his gaze away from the other boy.

He blinked slowly, lips slightly parted.

"Why not?" Blaine asked after a moment.

Kurt looked up at him again with a gentle sigh. "I don't know," he shrugged. "It's not like I said no forever. It's not definitive," he uttered, unsure of his words, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Blaine, on the other hand, nodded and looked away.

"So, do you have any other plans for today?" he cleared his throat, completely kicking the subject out of sight.

"Not really, other than hauling myself into my pajamas and just being here," Kurt quipped, still passing the pages. "What about you?"

"Huh... actually, I might be home late tonight," he glanced at him, anxiousness glimmering within his honey colored eyes. "But you can order whatever you want or cook something yourself, I think the fridge's full, so..." he added offhandedly and it gave Kurt the impression he was feeling guilty.

"Mmm, luxuries," he droned out nevertheless. He would have to remind himself to buy food as well. It would be terribly rude and ungrateful of him if all of the sudden, he moved in and all the food in the house disappeared.

Blaine chuckled, eyes wandering over the breakfast bar between them. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, frowning slightly. The other boy hummed distractedly in agreement, concentrating instead on his hand, not quite paying attention to Kurt's inquiry. "Blaine, it's fine," he stated, finally making the boy look up from his nails. "I don't mind being alone," he shrugged, shaking his head deliberately, trying his best to reassure the boy in front of him. Besides, he really didn't, in fact he was longing for it.

Blaine still looked hesitant, though and he didn't say a word.

"Okay," he uttered quietly, not denoting any sort of emotion.

Yet, actually, there was something in his eyes. Kurt thought it was probably always there, because when they weren't harassing each other, Blaine was polite and gentle and weird, yes, but there were moments like these when there was such warmth in his whisky, amber eyes that it made Kurt's heart clench a little bit.

He pursed his lips before briefly smiling back and turning to the fridge, although he didn't really need anything from it.

"Okay, so I'll go get changed," Blaine called. "And then I'll be going," the corner of his lips turned upwards.

"'kay," Kurt nodded, ignoring the milk he was pretending to be looking for.

Blaine nodded once more and left for his room, scratching the top of his head. Once he disappeared Kurt walked out from behind the refrigerator door slowly, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. He gave a long sigh and walked towards his own room, already longing to put on the most comfortable home clothes he owned and just freaking relax for once, he exhaled.

----------

He stumbled against his apartment door, chuckling at himself when he spent two minutes trying to put the key into the hole. When he finally succeeded to open the door he took off his coat, face and fingers numb because of the wind, redirecting his other hand towards the light switch on the wall to turn it on.

It was barely after eleven, so it wasn't really late, but he kept on nervously glancing at his wristwatch. The truth was, he didn't feel good leaving him alone on his second night only. Sure, him being there locked in his room wouldn't make much of a difference, but at least he was there. It just made him feel better with himself and also, he was sort of tired, not exactly in the mood to go out and drink too much. Okay, perhaps that last part could be discussed.

The light showered the center of the living room, washing shadows off of the TV, the coffee table, a couch and a very much asleep boy on it. Blaine hurried to turn it off as soon as he realized Kurt was there, swearing under his breath.

He was curled in a ball, with a quilt partially draped over his body, most of it on the floor and a documentary about a celebrity Blaine was sure he knew from some cheesy old movie glowing on the screen. He was peacefully resting, no particular characteristics about him. No snoring, no smile on his face, not even much of an up and down movement of his chest. It was all so ordinary, so simple about it; so subtle and even, perhaps... Delicate. His hands gently laced under his head, his flawless hair still in place, cheeks flushed as always, apparently.

Blaine shook his head and tore his eyes away from him, starting to walk towards his room after grabbing a glass of water. When he surrounded the couch on which Kurt was soundly sleeping he turned to turn the television off, glancing once more at him.

He stopped, placed the cup on the wooden table, took the quilt and rearranged it over him, making sure it covered him in all the right places, smiling when his feet curled and his face twitched at the mere brush of his fingers close to his soles. He retrieved his beverage, studied Kurt's face for another second and closed the door to his room after five more seconds, ready to close his eyes and fall asleep as soon as his head sunk in the pillow. He changed into his pajamas, unable to sleep in his street clothes since he was a little kid, the face of that handsome guy that had approached to talk to him at the bar reemerging in his thoughts, his number waiting to be dialed, saved on his contacts and his brain giving in and unplugging for the day, like he had predicted, just as his eyelashes fluttered close.