Kurt can't stop looking at him.

He's tried, oh god he's tried. He tried looking at the grass they're sitting on, at the oak tree towering over them, the wide river flowing beside him - nothing. Every time his eyes always find their way back to the Indian sitting cross legged in front of him as he tells Kurt about the grass and the tree and the river.

When he realises there was little chance of him focusing on anything else but Blaine, he tries to focus on his face and not let his eyes wander over him. Well, any more than they already have, because, of course, Kurt can't seem to stop his eyes drinking him in in what has to be a hungry way. He's captivated by how the muscles in Blaine's strong shoulders work when he stretches his arms while talking, gesturing to the world around them. He's entranced by how Blaine's chest moves when he talks, steady and gentle breathing that quickens when he talks about nature and the winds, something about their spirits, and Kurt just wants nothing more than to scrape his teeth and tongue  across it and-

No! No no no no no no! No!

He can't think about that. He cannot think about that! Not his chest, not his arms, not his shoulders and certainly not the way that, with his legs crossed and even though he's slightly on the short side, he is defiantly not 'little'.

Even though his eyes keep wandering he hangs on Blaine's every word. He has no idea how he can speak perfect English when moments before he could barely understand a thing Kurt was saying. "It's called a helmet," Kurt says as he watches Blaine pick it up, staring at his reflection in it. Kurt smiles when he turns his head up or to the side, watching his face distort in the curved metal. He has to pull his attention away from this man before his thoughts wander again.

"What did you say this river was called?" he asks, staring out at the flowing water.

"Quiyoughcohannock," Blaine says and oh god Kurt loves the pride he hears in his voice. Scratch that, Kurt just loves his voice. He will do anything to keep hearing that voice.

“You have the most unusual names here,” Kurt hums while Blaine puts the helmet on his head. It’s a little big, tipping forward on his head and it takes Kurt all his strength not to reach over and kiss him. “Chicahominy. Quiyoughcohannock.” The helmet slides forward, hiding Blaine’s eyes and Kurt can’t stand it, reaching forward to pull the helmet up. “Blaine, of the Ander Tribe.”

Blaine holds his gaze for a moment before dropping his head to pull of the helmet. “You have the most unusual name too,” he says in a soft voice. “Kurt Hummel.” He sounds out every syllable and letter and Kurt just loves the ways his tongue rolls around the L. He smiles at Blaine and Blaine smiles back.

Something rustles beside him and Kurt looks to see the tail of an animal poking out of bag.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing the animal and pulling him out. Kurt recognises him immediately, the little racoon from earlier who he gave a biscuit. The crumbs of several more caught in the fur around his mouth. He hears Blaine suck in a breath beside him and looks over. “Is this bottomless pit  a friend of yours?”

“Meeko!” Blaine huffs, pulling the racoon away and setting him in his lap. Kurt’s lip twitches at Blaine’s frown, fighting a smile. He sounds like a brother scolding a younger sibling.

“How do you, Meeko?” Kurt chuckles, offering him a hand. He sniffs the hand excitedly, searching and scraping for more food but finding none, he falls back against Blaine in annoyance. A racoon is upset with me? Kurt thinks. “It’s just a handshake,” he says, looking to Blaine as Meeko jumps from his lap. Blaine looks from Kurt to his hand and back again before giving him a light shrug. Kurt straightens his hand, “here, I’ll show you.”

Blaine stares down at the hand and his brow furrows. “Nothing’s happening,” he murmurs after a moment and Kurt chuckles again.

“No, I need your hand first.”

He tentatively stretches out a tanned hand which Kurt takes, gently, but not so that it’s a floppy handshake. Blaine smiles a little at the two hands and Kurt help but admire the difference in the two skins. “It’s how we say hello,” Kurt explains. Blaine looks up and smiles a little more before pushing himself to his feet, Kurt quickly following suit.

“This is how we say hello,” he says, his voice filled with quiet excitement. He holds one hand in front of him, palm facing towards Kurt, and pulls it up past his face and around in a crescent shape. “Wingapo.”

Kurt mimics him, “wingapo”.

“And how we say goodbye,” Blaine continues, repeating the action. “Ana.”

Kurt follows his hand and unthinkingly reaches out to place their palms together. “I like hello better,” he says. He’s not sure whether he likes hello because it’s in English or if it’s just because he doesn’t want to say goodbye yet.

“Ow!”

“Pavarotti!”

Kurt looks down at his finger where the little bird nipped it. “I remember you,” he grumbles, narrowing his eyes at the bird. Blaine laughs and Kurt softens at the sound.

“Pavarotti just doesn’t like strangers,” he explains, gazing up at the bird where he hovers just above his head.

“I’m not a stranger any more, am I?” Kurt asks softly, to either the bird or Blaine he doesn’t know.

Blaine gives his head a shake before ducking it low, hiding his shy smile.

***

They sit for a little while, under the tree, talking and listening to the river flow. Blaine’s chest feels tight. He doesn’t dare stare at Kurt too long, no matter how much he wants to, so he settles for - very­ – frequent glances. He tries to remember every detail about him in those brief moments – the way his hair flicks, how his mouth curls a little at the edges, his sparkling eyes.

“London?” Blaine’s head snaps up from where he had been drawing patterns in the earth. “Is that your village?”

“Yes,” Kurt says with a grin, “but it’s a very big village.”

“What’s it like?” Blaine asks, hardly able to contain his excitement. Kurt looks at him in amusement for a moment but Blaine doesn’t care. He just wants so badly to hear about where Kurt is from.

“Well, it’s got streets filled with carriages and bridges over the rivers and buildings as tall as trees.”

Blaine looks up through the braches above his head. “I’d like to see those things…”

“You will,” Kurt promises, and he looks at him with confusion and excitement. “We’re going to build them here. We’ll show your people how to use this land properly, how to make the most of it.”

Now Blaine’s confused. “Make the most of it?” he echoes as Kurt stands and walks over to the trunk of the tree. He talks with ease and comfort, as if this is a common topic of conversation.

“Yes, we’ll build roads and decent houses and-“

“Our houses are fine!” Something inside Blaine is set on edge. His village is ideal, they have all they need. They have food and water, good workers and skilled warriors. They are better than most, more equipped and skilled.

“You think that, only because you don’t know any better,” Kurt says absentmindedly.

Whatever was set on edge in Blaine snaps. He’s up in an instant and making his way to the canoe a little way away. He doesn’t like how Kurt talks about his people.

“Wait! Wait, don’t take it that way!” Kurt shouts as Blaine climbs in the boat, pushing away from the edges of the river. “Wait, don’t go!”

Blaine hears him splash into the water and in a second he’s in front of Blaine, holding onto the boat. “I just mean there’s so much we can teach you!” Kurt explains, slightly breathless. “We’ve improved the lives of savages all over the world!”

“Savages?!”

The shock on Kurt’s face doesn’t register with Blaine, he’s too angry. He may not be able to speak this language long – only a few hours really – but he knows that this isn’t the friendliest of terms

“Not- not that you’re a savage, Blaine-” Kurt tries to explain but he cuts him off.

“No, just my people,” he seethes.

“No, listen, that’s not what I meant. Let me explain—“

“Let go,” Blaine orders, trying to paddle forward but Kurt refuses to release the boat.

“No, I am not letting you leave,” Kurt says, moving forward to get a better grip on the wood. His face ends up right in front of Blaine’s and Blaine just glares into his blue eyes until he can’t take being that close to him anymore. There’s a low branch above him and he skilfully leaps up from the canoe, grabbing onto the branch and swinging his body up.

“Look,” Blaine hears from below, trying to climb higher, “‘Savage’ is just a word, you know, a term for… people who are uncivilised.”

“Like me?” Blaine asks, glaring down at where Kurt is pathetically trying to climb the tree. He stays where he is, it will be some time before Kurt reaches him.

“Well, when I say uncivilised, what I mean is – is…”

Blaine sees it before it happens. Kurt lifts his leg up to try and boost himself up further but his foot slips on the bark and the leg slides off. His grip isn’t tight enough and Kurt loses his hold, crashing down through the branches while Blaine yells out a simple “Kurt!”

He’s down by his side in a second. He knows he should be angry at him but seeing him a little bruised from his fall washes all of Blaine’s annoyance away. With a sigh, he kneels down beside him so he can look into his eyes.

“What you mean is,” Blaine explains, “not like you.” Kurt looks at him. Blaine can tell he’s embarrassed so with another sigh he pulls him up from the ground. “But still I cannot see, if the savage one is me, how can there be so much that you don’t know?”

Blaine takes his hand and starts leading him away from the tree and the river and towards the trees.  “I’m going to teach you,” Blaine tells him. “About the spirits in every rock and tree and creature and about Mother Nature.”

***

His hand is so big, so tanned and so perfect in Kurt's. Even just standing with Blaine, like he is now, is enough to send Kurt's heart wild and throw his head in a tizzy. It's nice here, being close, just facing him, with a gentle breeze gracing over them and Kurt would be content to just stay here with Blaine forever.

And if he couldn't stay here with him, Kurt would follow him. He'd follow him anywhere, just like he had today.   Through the trees, to the tops of cliffs, down the waterfalls, listening to Blaine talk about the spirits and nature and Kurt wanted to follow him forever.

They found themselves back under the tree by the river and Kurt has never thought he could love a place as much as this. He can hear the wind rustle through the leaves and grass and the gurgle of the water. His head is filled with Blaine. He's all he can see, all he can feel and all he can hear. Even though they're quiet now, Kurt can still hear the ghost of the song Blaine had sung. It was short, simple, The Wind's Song, he had called it but it resonated within Kurt and he was terrified he would forget it, though it would be hard to forget a voice like his.

His hazel eyes hold Kurt's with a gaze that is both fierce with what Kurt sees in them and gentle in the way that they crinkle a little as he smiles. They're so close now and Kurt pulls Blaine's hand up to rest on his own chest and he feels Blaine's forehead rest against his. Their free hands find each other and just hold on. It's so simple. All Kurt has to do is tilt his head slightly-

Blaine pulls away before Kurt could reach his lips. He would have been hurt if he hadn't realised that Blaine hadn't moved his hand from his chest or release his other one by his side. He's looking away, unfocused, to a spot over Kurt's shoulder.

"What is it?" Kurt asks, watching Blaine's brow furrow.

"The drums, they mean trouble," Blaine says in a low voice and then Kurt hears them. A low, steady beat but they couldn't be that far off. Blaine pulls away completely now, taking his hands back and leaving Kurt with a chill where ever they had touched, and looks up at him with a little confusion. "I shouldn't be here."

Kurt grabs his arm as Blaine moves past him, holding back from running away. "I want to see you again," He tells him desperately.

"I can't," Blaine whispers and Kurt can hear something in his voice, like he's straining against himself. "I'm sorry."

"Please!" Kurt doesn't even care that he's begging as he steps in front of Blaine, holding onto his upper arms as pulls him in close. Blaine's scared, he can see that, but maybe if Kurt could show him, let him know that he'll be there. He could kiss him and then Blaine would know and he's already leaning down-

"I have to go," Blaine says and Kurt can hear the pain in his voice. He doesn't want to leave Kurt but even so he slips from his hold and quickly moves away an to the boat.

He wants to follow him, but he can't make his feet move. Blaine's wounded voice stays with him even after he watches him disappear on the river. He stays there, watching the spot, hoping he's going to appear any moment.

But he doesn't. Kurt has to concede to the fact that he let Blaine go, that he hadn't followed him. Did Blaine want him to follow? Was he waiting for him?

Kurt turned. It was beginning to get dark and he didn't know these woods as well as he would like. He had to get back before night. He trudged back to the settlement, chest growing heavier and heavier with each step.