The next few days are long. Blaine rejects Brittany's offers to go on Flights to meet boys who don't live under water, again and again, and avoids questions on the topic from his family. Instead, he whiles away his time gliding lazily above the sea, watching for movement under the waves. He catches glimpses of the light reflecting off of smooth shells and sand-worn rocks, but nothing shines the way Kurt did that day.

When he finally returns home, it's to eye-rolling from Cooper, and grumbling from some of the others that he's wasting his time on a fantasy.

"Why don't you go to some of the land villages?" Sam suggests on the second day. "I know that boy at the market stall with the dried fruits was looking at you. You could always--"

"No, that's okay," Blaine interrupts. "I just...I'll know when it's right, Sam. I don't want to chase a maybe."

Sam doesn't say anything more, though by the set of his mouth, he wants to. Blaine appreciates his silence, though, and the silence of the rest of the group. They don't tell anyone about what happened, and they don't approach him about it. He can just...live in this moment. He's not ready to give up the dreams he's been having, the impossibilities.

On the third day he wakes up much earlier than he intends to, excited and nervous, and can't get back to sleep. He spends longer than usual grooming his feathers, trying to look his best without Brittany's help, too impatient to wait for her to wake up. In his haste, he tugs out several feathers that needn't have been lost, but he tucks them away in his pouch anyway, thinking of how he can tie them up and decorate them to make the prettiest offerings. But he can't just sit there waiting anymore, and eventually he takes off and flies to the cave with the pillar, to wait for Kurt there.

The trip down is slick and quiet, only his breathing and occasional grunts of effort bouncing off the stone walls of the tunnel down. He keeps his wings tucked in tightly, and goes by the faint light streaming in from the outside, darker and darker as he descends.

When he arrives, he can barely see. He finds and sits on a stone ledge, every now and then backing away from the edge of the water as it rises with the tide lapping at his toes. It's pleasantly cool inside the cave, sheltered as it is from the sun, and every little noise of the lapping water and the shuffling of his wings echoes around the chamber, filling the space with sound.

"Hello?" he calls to no one, and his voice reflects back a dozen times, softer and softer.Hello. He smiles at the way it sounds so big and musical. He sings a long, clear note, and the vibrations come from everywhere, from all corners of the cave, filling his chest with tremors.

He invents a melody, and sings out loud, wordlessly, enjoying the fullness of the sound. He likes his own voice, knows that it's an asset to his family and his Eyrie. It's strong and clear, and that's important during flight. But mostly, he just enjoys singing for the beauty of it. So he lets himself hum and sing and play with the notes, to bide his time.

But then he jumps, startled by a watery harmony joining him from the sea. He laughs, and then keeps singing as the swelling, swirling voice gets closer and louder until Kurt's head emerges from the water and the notes become clear and bright in the air. Kurt smiles excitedly up at him and uses his arms to pull himself closer, laying half out of the water on the rocks. "I didn't know you could sing!"

"All birds sing," Blaine teases, and Kurt raises an eyebrow at him.

"You're telling me crows sing?"

"I didn't say they were good at it."

Kurt laughs, a surprisingly full sound, wild with abandon, and Blaine grins. He'd expected something elegant and tinkling, but this laugh, the laugh of a carefree young man, is so much better.

"Can you see in here?" Kurt asks suddenly. "It's fine for me, but I thought you might bring a torch or something, for someone who's used to the sun."

"I didn't think of it," Blaine admits. "I can sort of see--my eyes are used to it now--"

"Hold on," Kurt says, and he dives down beneath the water.

He's gone for several minutes, and Blaine is antsy for most of it, wondering where he's gone, worrying. But then a light shines in the water, growing bigger and brighter until Kurt emerges, holding a bauble on a thread.

"Light," he says, holding it up.

Blaine takes it from him, and is surprised--it's warm. Not hot, like the flames his people use, but just pleasantly warm on his hands. It's a cool blue-green light, not strong, but it lights up around them well enough. Blaine's grateful for it--there's not much to see in the cave, just rocks and water, but he can see Kurt so much better, captured by the shadows in his cheeks and eyes, in the dip of his collar and the curve of his jaw.

"Thank you," Blaine says sincerely. "Does this...will it last, out of water?"

"Not for too long," Kurt explains, "but if we dip it back under once in a while, it should be okay."

"So...if I put it in a tank of water, it would stay lit."

"No," Kurt says, a little regretfully. "If it's taken out of the sea for too long, it loses its connection with our Shamans' magic. It has to be connected through the water. If it's in different water, it can't stay lit."

"That's too bad," Blaine murmurs. "It's beautiful."

"Were you thinking of showing it to your people?"

Blaine bites his lip, but he nods.

"There are reasons we don't come up to the surface much, Blaine," Kurt says sadly. "My people...they don't really need anything from the surface. So much up here wouldn't survive down there, and I think the same is true in reverse. And we're tied to the sea."

Blaine frowns, unsure of how to reply. He knew the whole time that his fascination with Kurt, his deep desire to spend time with him, would be a doomed endeavor. They were so ill matched, and the only place they could ever be together would be in this cave. Neither of them would survive it. Kurt is smart enough to know that--Blaine has been fooling himself. Maybe that's the reason they're here--maybe Kurt just wanted to say goodbye--

Kurt's hands join his on the bright bauble. Blaine gasps at the contact.

"That doesn't mean we don'twantanything from the surface."

Blaine looks up at him, the light shining between them. Kurt's hands are strong, cool, smooth against his own. Blaine notices an almost transparent web between his fingers, and it feels strange against his dry, warm skin.

They're so different.Toodifferent.

But Kurt is looking right at him, into his eyes, and he wonders if this is what Brittany meant when she said not to be afraid of love.

"I wish I could swim," he whispers.

"Don't," Kurt says sternly, pulling his hands away. "Swimming could kill you, don't think I don't know that. It would be better if you wished you could always fly."

Blaine's heart drops. Kurt--

"I wish thatIcould fly. It's..." He pauses, looking frustrated. "What do your stories tell you about merpeople?"

"Not much," Blaine admits. "We've mostly heard stories about beautiful fish people that sing to sailors, luring them to the rocks. They live beneath the waves in grand palaces, feasting on their hearts."

Kurt laughs bitterly.

"My people mostly live in underwater caves," Kurt says. "Not much construction can be done beneath the water. We can carve and form sea glass, build with stones and sand, sometimes with debris from shipwrecks. And any song that a sailor hears, he hears on accident, and it is not our fault if he chases us and dies in the process. We mostly eat fish--which we arenot."

"I'm sorry," Blaine says at the tone of Kurt's voice, dry and irritated. "I didn't know--"

"What do your people think about love, Blaine?" Kurt asks, as though Blaine had not spoken.

Blaine pauses, confused. "Love?"

"Yes. Are there rules about who you can love?"

"Of course not," Blaine says. "I mean...there aresomethings that are frowned upon. What do you mean?"

"I mean...are you allowed to love who you want? Even if...even if they're male?"

"Yes," Blaine says. "I...I actually prefer males. I--thought you'd guessed."

Kurt smiles at him gently.

"I did. But...one never knows."

Blaine frowns at Kurt, settling closer to him. "What about your people?"

"My own people shun me because I have no desire to procreate," Kurt continues. "I do not want to love a woman. But I'll end up with my friend Santana, I'm sure, because she has no desire to love a man. We'll have children we don't want to make together, but at least we won't expect more from the other."

"Why can't you love a man?" Blaine asks, confused.

"There aren't many of us," Kurt explains. "It's far more dangerous in the sea than I think you realize. Not just because of the predators, or the ways you can get caught or injured in the pulls of the water. But my people have wars with each other--over territory, over resources. It is far from paradise. The gods say we must provide children for our race, populate the oceans with our spawn so that they can continue to kill each other."

"That's terrible," Blaine blurts.

"You see why it might be troublesome for us," Kurt acknowledges. "There is a small group that supports the way Santana and I are--our...abnormalities. My friends that came yesterday, and my father, and one of the Shamans. That's it. Less than ten people overall, in a tribe of over five hundred. The rest would rather see us killed than see us love who we would. The rest have tried to change me my whole life, tried to intimidate and scare me into being just like them."

Blaine sets the light between a couple of smaller rocks, reaches down, and takes Kurt's hand. He can't twine their fingers as he would wish, but he cups it in his as best as he can, brushing the back of Kurt's hand with his own.

"So you see why it might be...appealing for me to come to your world," Kurt continues. "A place where I am free to love anyone I choose. A place where I am not shoved into rocks and my fin isn't pulled and I'm not shamed for wanting to choose a mate I love rather than being forced to be with one who can provide children. A place with beautiful people who play on the beach and sing songs for joy and only ban something to protect lives. People who want to show each other a light because it's pretty, who want to share it."

"You...think we're beautiful?" Blaine asks, before he can stop himself.

Kurt's face flushes, and Blaine can't help but smile at it. He looks more alive than Blaine's seen him look so far.

"I've never seen anyone like you," he says, and Blaine gets the feeling Kurt's not talking about his species anymore. "The moment I did, I wanted to...to know you."

"I wanted to know you, too," Blaine replies. "My people aren't perfect...they were nervous of you. They didn't want me to go over. But...I couldn't leave you to die there."

"Thank you," Kurt whispers.

They look at each other for a long moment, the air suspended between them, and then a wave crashes over Blaine's toes and he scrambles back. The spell is broken, and the next time he looks at Kurt, Kurt is looking away.

"Are you--how are you feeling?" he asks, curling up on himself, hugging his knees to his chest.

Kurt looks back up and smiles again before hopping out of the water, turning so he can sit on the edge of the same rock as Blaine, the end of his tail trailing in the water. Blaine scoots back down, grinning sheepishly before he notices the side of Kurt's fin where he'd been injured--it's perfect. As though there had never been a wound.

"That's--how--"

"Our Shamans are very good," Kurt says, running his hand over the flawless scales with one hand, tucking up his braids behind his ears with the other. "It took a day or two of rest, but I'm all better. Scared of coral reefs, now, too."

Blaine laughs at the wry, self-deprecating comment, unable to stop grinning when Kurt smiles right back at him.

"A--a few of your feathers are crooked," Kurt notes. "On your wing?"

Blaine looks around, but he can't see where they might be. But when he spreads his wings, he catches the spot he'd missed. Several feathers are clumped together, leaving gaps on either side, the barbs slightly bent and sticking out. Blaine reaches back awkwardly to comb through them, straightening them as best he can--they're at an awkward spot, and he suddenly wishes he'd waited for Brittany despite questions it could've caused when he took off toward the caves.

"I'll just--"

"I could help?" Kurt offers, reaching out a hand tentatively. "I'm--I'm dry, I don't have any salt on my hands."

Blaine blinks for a moment. It's kind of...intimate, touching his body like that. He allows Brittany because she's his friend, and he allowed his mother of course, but it's kind of like letting someone run their fingers through his hair--it's a close gesture. But Kurt is offering, and Blaine trusts his instincts. And all they're saying is that he wants Kurt closer to him, no matter what.

"Okay." Kurt shifts up the rock a little awkwardly, turning and curling up his fin to steady himself before reaching out and brushing the tips of his fingers through the feathers.

Blaine shivers. Kurt can't put much pressure on them, with the webs between his fingers--he can only use the tips. And the touch is so light, it's on the edge of ticklish.

"Am I doing it wrong?"

"No," Blaine says instantly. "No, you're fine. Just--you can touch a little harder? It's kind of...sensitive, so it can tickle."

Kurt immediately presses harder, brushing the feathers back into place, using the others to guide where he lines them up. Just as he's finishing up, though, a feather falls out--a downy feather, from the undercoat, just a soft little thing with wispy barbs.

"Oh no!" Kurt gasps. "I'm sorry--did I hurt you?"

"No, it's fine," Blaine says, picking the feather off the rock and holding it up. "It's fine. They fall out sometimes--you should see when we go through our molting cycle, featherseverywhere. It's just like plucking out a hair, with these little ones. Sometimes the bigger ones can hurt, though, if they're pulled before they're really to fall out."

"It's cute," Kurt says, peering at the little thing. Blaine smiles and hands it over.

"You can have it," he says. "Only the bigger ones are really valuable or mean anything."

"Valuable?" Kurt asks. "You mean...you sell them?"

"Sure, sometimes," Blaine says. "I collect the best of each kind for myself, though. When we find a mate, it's customary to give them jewelry with your best feathers on them. Like...giving them a part of yourself. The best parts. Because they deserve it."

"You...have you found a mate yet?"

Kurt sounds so nervous, his fingers tentative as he takes the downy feather. Blaine can't help but smile at that. Kurt doesn'twanthim to have a mate?

"No," Blaine says. "I just built my nest recently, meaning I'm of age now. And...I've met some boys, but I didn't really connect with them. I'm told it's obvious, when I find my mate. The love is instinctive, like I was born for that person."

He doesn't say that he's pretty sure that's the feeling of being drawn to Kurt. And not even because they just met--his people choose a mate within days of meeting them, sometimes, if the feeling is strong enough. No, it's because of what Kurt is, whatheis. He can't mate with someone whose home would kill him, and with someone who would die inhishome.

He won't kill them both with his love.

"I should go back," Blaine says, his voice stilted. His heart aches when he says it, when he thinks of leaving Kurt. "My...my family and friends will be wondering where I am."

"It's good they care," Kurt replies wistfully, stroking the feather, smiling sadly down at it. Blaine hesitantly lays his hand on Kurt's back, stroking the cool, smooth skin. It feels like glass, and Blaine has a strong image of Kurt gliding through the water, the streams parting around his form like around a knife, unable to resist his push and so ready to change their flow for him. God of waters and of pushing until he gets where he wants, this beautiful finned warrior; warrior of self, warrior of truth.

Blaine wants to compose songs to him. The kind that Cooper would hurt his sides laughing at. And he doesn't even care. He'll have a chorus of blackbirds join him in serenading Kurt if it'll do something to show Kurt that someone cares, even if it's just a bird.

"Can I see you again?" Blaine asks, unsure. But Kurt's face lights up, even as he holds back a smile with a bite of his teeth into his bottom lip.

"I suppose that could be arranged," he replies, flirty and sweet, slipping back into the water. "When?"

"Tomorrow," Blaine says, not wanting to delay longer. "Do you need to be in here at high tide, or can we wait til low tide? I might be expected to be around first thing in the morning. It'd be less suspicious."

Kurt looks like he wants to ask questions, but he shakes his head briefly.

"I can come in at low tide," Kurt says. "It just makes it a little easier to come this close to shore on high tide. Low tide presses outwards. But I can do it."

Blaine takes the bauble of light and hands it down to Kurt, smiling.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. Just after the midday tide."

Kurt puts the light beneath the water, and it glows brighter again. Blaine hadn't noticed it dimming.

"Til tomorrow."