Chapter One

Blaine Anderson stirred from what he was sure was the most peaceful and contented sleep he had had in a long time. Sunlight was pouring in through the windows, dancing across his closed eyelids. Stretching his arms up he let his eyes flutter open… And immediately did a double take. Blaine was not in his house, in his bedroom with the deep blue walls and the single bed in the corner of the room. No. He was in a double bed, with cream walls in a room was marginally smaller than his own. Sitting up Blaine looked around some more. Those were not his clothes draws, with everything falling out all the time to the point where his mother would threaten to chuck the whole lot out. Quite the opposite. In these draws the clothes were all neatly folded. That was not his desk, upon which his laptop would sit proudly. This was a smaller desk, with a bigger chair and across it drawings and neatly written out song lyrics were spread.

Panic rose in his chest. Where was he? Why was he here? Why wasn't he at home? He looked at the clock. Sunday. 11 pm. Maggie. Maggie would be waiting for him. They always saw each other on a Sunday. Whilst their parents were at Church him and Maggie would go for a walk. He scrambled around the floor for his phone and pulled it out his jean pocket, it was dead. The screen was black and his own reflection stared back at him. His hair was a mess, sticking out all over the place. Around his left eye was a dark purple color. What the hell? Blaine reached up and touched the bruised skin carefully. Ouch! Pain shot through his eye and he staggered backwards briefly. Why did he have a black eye? And… Oh God… why… was he naked? Blaine stared down at his bare torso with horror. He never slept naked. Ever. He felt it unprincipled to sleep in the nude. Blaine sat back heavily on the bed and tried to calm down. There had to be a logical explanation for this. There had to be.

Something stirred beside him. Blaine turned his head to look down. A figure lay beside him. Oh. You have got to be kidding me. Blaine stared at the porcelain skin of the person that lay beside him. The figure was lying on their stomach, their face out of view but soft short brown hair touching the pillow. They had strong shoulders and a slim back… Blaine froze, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. There was no denying it. The figure beside him… was… a man. Blaine shot off the bed as if it had suddenly been set on fire. Grabbing his boxers off the floor he hurriedly pulled them on. He ran his hands through his hair. Oh God. Oh God. He felt sick, he felt dizzy. He had cheated on Maggie. With… a man. Had he cheated? He sure as hell didn't remember a thing about last night… perhaps they had just accidentally fell into bed together. Naked. Perhaps they were hot. Just because they were naked didn't mean they did anything… right? The warm feeling in his muscles disagreed.

Blaine couldn't believe this was happening. Again. When he was 13 he had realized his attraction to boys, he liked being with girls but he sure as hell didn't want to kiss any of them. No. Blaine had known whom he had wanted to kiss. Will. His best friend Will. He'd wanted to kiss a boy. At first he had simply been terrified of his feelings and stamped them down… but they were always creeping up on him. Eventually he had tearfully told his mother about how confused he was. She had gone white as a sheet and called his father home immediately. They had sat that scared, confused Blaine down and told him it was just a phase, it would pass and that Dr. Wilkes would help him. He had seen Dr. Wilkes every Wednesday from that day onward. Dr. Wilkes had told him his attraction to men was simply down to him being tricked into these feelings by some kind of dark force. Dr. Wilkes had assured him that Blaine would like girls soon enough. Then 3 years later his mother had introduced him, somewhat gingerly to Maggie. And Blaine did like Maggie. She was funny, smart, liked the same things Blaine did… Blaine fooled himself into believing what he felt for Maggie was genuine attraction and not just that he thought she was nice. So they had started dating much to the utter joy of Blaine's parents, his mother practically wept. They invited her over all the time, determined to make her feel like part of the family. Blaine's father started talking properly to Blaine again. It felt good. Blaine felt like he finally had his family back. Of course things were more complicated when it came to Maggie. They'd hold hands and it would be fine, but sometimes Maggie would kiss him and he'd feel… Nothing. Absolutely nothing, not even one measly feeling would ignite inside him. Maggie kissing him felt like one of his Aunts kissing his cheek, he knew he had to do it but he disliked every second of it. Maggie did not seem to feel his utter disgust because she kissed him all the time. To the point where Blaine was running fast out of excuses. My parents will be home soon. I'm so tired. We have exams tomorrow. I just ate some garlic. I don't want to disrespect you.

Then things got a whole lot worse. Kurt Hummel joined Dalton Academy. From the very second Blaine clapped eyes on him walking down those spiralling stairs it was like being hit in the stomach by a marshmallow filled with butterscotch. Kurt was Heaven on legs. Bright green eyes, perfect milky skin and soft brown hair always styled perfectly… and as much as Blaine hated to admit it, he had not been able to keep his eyes away from that perfect ass for one second. He made up a million excuses to spend more time with Kurt; he just liked… being with him. That was all. Blaine convinced himself he just liked Kurt's presence, he was calming. Being with him was like slipping into cool water during a hot day. For the first time in Blaine's life he felt relaxed. He suppressed any feelings of lust as best he could, completely denying that they were there. Kurt was just a friend. A friend with beautiful, perfect, kissable lips… A friend who could set his skin on fire with just a simple touch. Yes. Kurt was definitely just a friend.

Swallowing, Blaine turned back to the figure beside him. He'd recognize that skin anywhere, those perfectly sculpted back muscles. It was Kurt who was sleeping beside him. Naked. Oh God. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. God. Shit. Blaine went into full-blown panic mode. He pulled on his jeans and his shoes, grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He needed to get out of there. Jesus. He needed to run. He had to get away from Kurt. Because… Because more than anything in the world Blaine wanted to press his lips against that perfect porcelain skin again and watch Kurt as he woke up… No. No. Blaine just needed to get out. He just needed some air. That's all. That's all he needs. Air. Refreshing cold air.

Blaine hurried down the stairs taking two at a time and crashed out of the front door. The cold air hit his lungs like a slap to the face and then he was running. Running as fast as his legs would carry him. Until the air hurt his lungs and he could feel his heart pumping in his ears. But he pushed himself. He pushed himself to run faster. His leg muscles screamed at him but he ignored them. His vision began to blur, his head felt like it was going to explode. He slowed down. His legs crumpled underneath him, he wrapped his arms around his head and curled up on the grass beside the pavement. First the tears came. Rolling one by one down his cheeks, then the sobs, they ripped through his chest and forced themselves out of his lips. What had he done? What the fuck had he done? And why, oh God why, did he still so want to be curled around Kurt, sleeping peacefully, his face buried in that sweet smelling neck… Blaine clenched his fists. He had to pull himself together. What would happen if someone saw him? Blaine Anderson, son of John Anderson, curled up on the side of the road, sobbing into the grass. Blaine pulled himself to his feet, his bones creaking in protest. If Blaine had been out all night, no doubt they were all looking for him. Composing himself, Blaine wiped the tears from his cheeks indignantly and started the walk home; he'd have to think of an excuse for his black eye. With every step he pushed the memory of Kurt's bare skin, of his soft lips and just how good it had felt to wake up beside him, further down into himself. Whatever happened last night, Blaine wanted to remember none of it.

Kurt woke with a start. His vision was blurry and his head was pounding relentlessly. How much had he drunk last night? Too much, his body replied wearily. Sitting up Kurt looked around. The bed sheets were tangled around him; his clothes were spotted around the room… on the floor, on his desk… on the light hanging from his ceiling? How did his t-shirt get up there? Kurt rubbed his eyes. Blaine. He'd been with Blaine last night. Suddenly memories flooded back at him, hitting him in the chest like a punch to the stomach. The kiss. Oh God, that kiss. Blaine had drunkenly fallen forward and before he could stop himself Kurt had pressed his lips against Blaine's. From then on, things got blurry. They'd stumbled back into Kurt's bedroom, what was Blaine doing drinking in his house anyway? Clothes had disappeared in seconds, Blaine's hands had been eager. Kurt blushed. So… Why was he sleeping alone?

Kurt touched the empty space next to him with his fingers. He couldn't remember Blaine leaving last night. Kurt could have sworn they'd fallen asleep in each others arms. In fact he distinctly remembered thinking about how perfectly his body fitted in with Blaine's. Almost like they had been made for each other… if one believed in such things. Blaine must of left during the night. Kurt fought back tears. Hadn't last night meant anything to him? Kurt had been patient. He'd been patiently waiting for Blaine to wake up and realize he was gay; that this facade he kept up with Maggie for the sake of his parents was ridiculous… Blaine should be his true self and he should be proud. Kurt thought that last night… last night… hadn't last night made Blaine realize what he really wanted? Obviously not. Blaine had run away. Like he always did. He'd ran away from his true feelings because at the end of the day he was scared.

Kurt slid out the side of the bed and stared into his mirror. His was a mess. He hoped Blaine hadn't had a chance to look at him properly before he'd run out. Kurt looked like a dead squirrel had taken up camp on his head. Brushing his hands through, Kurt made himself look slightly more presentable. That was when he noticed it. The big red mark on the side of his neck, impossible to miss. A love bite. Gee. Well that wasn't going to be easy to hide. Who wears a scarf in summer? Kurt fingered the love bite softly and bit his lip. Maybe he'd just leave it. That would show Blaine. Blaine may want to hide but Kurt certainly didn't. Of course that could lead to some awkward questioning from Burt and Carol. And Finn for that matter. And Rachel. And Mercedes. Kurt pulled a scarf out of his cupboard and after donning his jeans and t-shirt wrapped it around his neck. He sincerely hoped Blaine understood the fashion sacrifices Kurt was making for him. Oh God. He had to speak to Blaine. He was probably freaking out right now. Kurt couldn't let him ignore what had happened. It was time Blaine Anderson faced up to himself and his parents, and Kurt was going to make damned sure he did. If anyone was suited to the job, it was Kurt Hummel.