Even as Blaine stepped off his motorcycle he was still pretty convinced that this was a shitty idea. But he couldn’t help but ignore that fact, because he wanted to see him and this was the perfect excuse.

   "Kurt?" Blaine called when his knocks got no answer.

   "Kurt, you in there?" Still no respond. Yet he somehow knew that Kurt was there, on the other side of the door, but not ignoring him either. He decided to check inside. Maybe he really was out?

   It took him a couple of seconds before his eyes got used to the dimness in the room on the other side of the door. It was dark and unwelcoming and so very, very cold. Kurt, he saw then, wasn’t there. But a sound from where he thought the bathroom was located stopped him from leaving. It sounded suspiciously alike a moan or a whimper.

Blaine walked through the dim room, a weird feeling finding its way to his gut, and just as he’d thought, on the other side of that piece of wood that was supposed to be a door there was something that was supposed to be a bathroom. One person barely fit in there; what little space there was was occupied by a toilet, (that seemed to be barely functioning) a really nasty looking shower (with no shower curtain) and a cracked mirror hanging on the wall over a tiny little bathroom sink.

Though Blaine barely noticed any of this, because on the remaining floor-space lay a mess of a boy. His right arm was lazily trying to grab on to the toilet and the fingers of his left hand where sort of resting against the base, the heel of his hand on the greasy floor. It looked as if though he’d been violently sick, and from the smell of it, he really had. Though now that had to be at least three to five hours ago.

He was paler than usual and his hair was glued to his forehead by now dried sweat. His face looked shallow and lifeless and the dark bags under his closed eyes were more define than ever. He was visibly shaking and what little skin you saw looked like the skin of a newly plucked hen, though this really wasn’t a surprise, considering the temperature.

He looked horrible, there was no point trying to deny it.

  “Kurt?” Blaine said softly, crouching down beside the sleeping boy. He got nothing but another one of those adorable, yet slightly worrying, sleepy moans in respond.

When Blaine a couple of seconds later reached out a hand to wipe the hair away from Kurt’s face he nearly gasped.

   “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. Kurt was burning hot.

   Purely out of instinct, Blaine got up, found a handkerchief on the floor by the sink out in the ‘kitchen’, soaked it in cold water (there was no other option anyway) and crouched back down by Kurt’s side.

  “Can you hear me?” he asked, gently dabbing the boy’s face with the wet fabric. “You need to move,” It was cold and damp on the floor, and it was more than a little clear that Kurt was pretty sick. Staying on that floor would not help him at all to get better.

   After trying to wake him up for another couple of minutes, he finally got a more woken respond.

  “Wh… –no –I –st…“ 

  And though that wasn’t much of a respond, it still relieved him to bits; high fever, an upset stomach and not contactable often wasn’t such a good sign.

  Blaine finally decided to carry Kurt to the living room, which also worked as a hall, and though those mattresses looked a lot of things but comfortable, at least he’d be off the floor. Kurt was lighter than a lot of things Blaine had had to lift or carry before. And maybe he was just imagining, but it felt like he was even lighter now compared to the last time he’d carried him. That time also from lying on a cold, damp floor to a bed. It was weird, but it felt like so much had changed since then. A lot of things had changed for him at least. A lot of things.

   For a moment he considered leaving after he’d put him down, then decided that that would never work. He would become way too much of a worried mom if he were to do that. So, after a lot of hesitation for a lot of reasons, Blaine settled down on the mattress and placed Kurt’s head in his lap. He knew that if Kurt’d bee conscious, he’d never allow him. But he wasn’t conscious, and Blaine couldn’t help himself. Something just made him do it at that same something made it impossible for him not to.

   Nothing really happened after that for the next hours to come. But Blaine didn’t care. He was too busy even noticing that it was getting darker and darker in the room.

At first, he was too busy going everything over and over in his mind again and again. Then, after around an hour and a half, he stopped thinking. He just let himself run his fingers through the boy’s hair again and again. It often looked so sort of sharp, but it really was one of the softest things Blaine had ever felt. It felt so many times better than running his finger through Sebastian’s hair, though his hair usually wasn’t the focus in Blaine’s mind when he and Sebastian were together. And though Kurt looked horribly beaten up and so very far from perfectly healthy at the moment, he just couldn’t get enough of his face. He knew that should make him feel creepy or weird, but it really didn’t. (Though the thought that the fact that he didn’t maybe even made it worse passed his mind more than once.)

Kurt was beautiful.

He really was, and Blaine had grown tired of denying it. He was beautiful even when he wasn’t perfectly well, even when he was being a jerk. Blaine missed his eyes though, that was the one bad thing with Kurt sleeping with his head in his lap. His eyes were closed, hiding those cyan eyes from his view. But the fact that he finally had the opportunity to look at Kurt as much as he like without having to fear being hit or laughed at really made the No Eyes part worth it.

  Ugh. Blaine thought. I’m turning into a fucking teddy bear.

He was. Because here he was, falling for someone, falling for someone that would land on the sun before falling back for him. And that wasn’t even him being an overdramatic teenage girl, that really was true.

Kurt didn’t do relationships, that he’d known since the first time he saw him. But still– Blaine didn’t do relationships either. And it wasn’t a relationship he wanted with the other boy, it was just… he wanted to be able to openly care about him and being cared about in return. He didn’t hunger for any labels of any kind. He just… He wanted Kurt. He really did. And he knew how utterly stupid that was, and he would forever hate his subconscious for doing this to him. But this was not troubling him at the moment, because at the moment he had no idea what life would make him go through because of the boy sleeping with his head in his lap.

    When it was almost too dark to see in the room, Kurt woke up. Though he wasn’t really Kurt. Because if he’d been Kurt, he’d spit and curse at what Blaine was doing; and there was none of that in the boy that woke up with his head in his lap.

   “Cold…” he mumbled sleepily, voice sounding so small. He brought his knees closer to Blaine’s body and found a handful of hoodie to hold on to with his right hand, whilst his left found its way around the other’s waist, hugging him closer. Blaine tried hard to force the movement of something fuzzy and tickly that started to form in his stomach to disappear.

   “You have a really bad fever,” said Blaine quietly, having to clear his throat from the hours of silence. “Do you have anything to dampen it?” Kurt didn’t answer in words, just made a sound that sounded like a mix between the sound that little cat babies make and the sound of a little child that doesn’t want to do something. Kurt nuzzled his face against Blaine’s stomach, which made him smile uncontrolledly.

  When Kurt had fallen back to sleep a couple of minutes later, Blaine decided that he really needed something for his fever. He was burning up again, and from his body language, it was pretty obvious that he was freezing.

   I could take him back to my place. I’ve got more than enough there to help him.

  It was a plan. But he didn’t want to wake him up again when he’d just fallen back to sleep. A couple of more minutes wouldn’t hurt. But the whimpers that was now leaving Kurt’s lips every few minutes did. Of some reason the sounds hurt. He didn’t like the idea that he couldn’t help him.

   For half an hour, Kurt was seemingly going through some horrible nightmares. Blaine tried to wake him a couple of times, but couldn’t. So accepting that unpleasant fact, he just sat there with Kurt hugging him tightly, listening to his slurred ‘nos’ and stops’, stroking the hair off his forehead and trying to calm him down. And with a sad smile he told him;

   “Happy birthday, you little shit.”

   There was an angel in his home. There had to be. And if it wasn’t, he had to meet this person, because… because everything this person was, was perfection. So soft and warm and kind. Talking to him and running beautiful fingers through his hair. He tried to make out who this person was, but just couldn’t place him. It was a him, that’s all he knew. It was a him and he loved him, because no one had taken care of him like this when he was this sick in he couldn’t remember how long.

  His mom had always been the perfect mom when he was sick; taking care of him like mothers took care of their children in children’s books. Then she left and the man who was supposed to be his father stopped taking care of him. Then there was Quinn of course. She was pretty good at taking care of him too. But her voice had never calmed him as much as the voice speaking to him now was.

   But then the voice silenced. He was alone again. He was cold and it was dark. There was something coming. He could feel it. Closer. Angry. Murderous. Hating. Hating him.  Screaming.

   Kill. We’re going to kill you.

   Why? Why couldn’t he just wake up? What did they want? What had he ever done to them?

   Take them away. Take them away they’re going to kill me. Take them away. Kurt tried desperately to get the words to leave his lips, but as far as he knew, he failed. He was near panic.

   Please. Somebody. Help me.

   Why didn’t anyone come to help him? Why couldn’t he run away from Them?

   They were coming closer. Louder. Reaching for him. Closer.

   Please! No –stop! Please –somebody!

   And then there it was. The angel. Talking to him, soft, soothing, calming him, chasing Them away.

   “It’s okay. It’s okay, Kurt, I’m here with you. Right here with you. No need to be afraid.”

   Kurt woke up again after he had absolutely no idea how long. It was dark and cold in the room, much the way his dreams had been. But something the woken world had that the sleeping didn’t was the eyes and face that looked down at him when he forced his eyes to open.

   “Bl…Blaine,” his mouth said before he’d really registered the face in his brain.
It really was Blaine though.
Of course it was Blaine. Who else would it be?

   “Hi,” he responded, a faint smile on his lips. “How’re you feeling?”

   Kurt responded with a little moan, too tired to form proper words.

   “So, ehm, listen,” He made a move to stroke the strands of hair out of his eye, but caught himself before there was any contact between them. (Apart from the whole part where Kurt had his head in Blaine’s lap that is) Kurt found himself wishing he hadn’t. “It would be really great if you could walk a few steps.”

   “Why?” he yawned.

   “I’d –just, d’you think you could manage it?”

   Kurt wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

   “’Cause it’d be really great if you did.” Kurt looked up at him, wanting him to carry on but being too tired to talk more than necessary. Then there was this little part about having a reason to look at him and those eyes. Those eyes…

  “You need something for the fever.” Blaine said, clearing his throat; the two of them had ended up looking at each other for quite a while longer than necessary.

   “Don’t wanna,” Kurt muttered, hiding his face in the fabric of the stomach of Blaine’s hoodie, not at all thinking about how absolutely not acceptable that was.

   “But you need it.” Blaine’s voice was softer than he’d ever heard it before, and it made something, whatever it was, move and feel weird in him.

   It didn’t take more than five minutes for Blaine to convince him that it maybe was okay to move. But when the part where he actually had to move came, it proved to be harder than both of them had thought. His head pounded madly at any attempt of movement and it felt like there was something growing and eating on the inside of his stomach when he wasn’t lying down.

When he’d finally managed to get to his feet, Blaine holding him up straight almost by himself, everything went black, then insanely blurry, then black and white. Apparently your balance disappeared completely when you were sick, or at least Kurt’s did.

   Walking on shaky legs, teeth clattering, (the air felt so many times colder when you moved around compared to when you were laying…cuddled up against another human being) the pair of them made their way towards the door. But when Blaine was about to open it, Kurt protested.

   “I’m not goin’ out there.” he said, sounding almost exactly like a stubborn little four-year-old.

   “Why not?”

   “Too cold.”

    Kurt had expected Blaine to completely ignore him or groan at him because he was being such a child, but he did none of these things. Instead he carefully let go of him (when he felt completely sure he wouldn’t fall when he was left standing on his own) and took off his jacket, but instead of handing it to Kurt, he bowed down and placed it between his knees. Then he stood up again and took off his hoodie, which took the t-shirt he was wearing under it with it a little more than halfway up, reviling more of Blaine’s torso than Kurt had seen before. And though his mind was terribly fogged with whatever crap it was running through him at the moment, Kurt did notice that it was a good looking torso. A very good looking torso.

   Kurt never remembered exactly how he managed to walk the steps outside to Blaine’s black and red motorcycle, neither how they decided how to sit. The first thing he remembers after getting Blaine’s warm hoodie over his head was the feeling of the cold wind creeping under his clothes and making him feel like a living ice cube. He remembers how it slapped his face and made his eyes water, but that it felt nice. It brushed through his messy hair and dried the sweat that kept pouring down his face.

  It wasn’t really the best time for the first time riding a motorcycle, but there wasn’t much Kurt could do but hold on as tight as he could around the other boy’s jacketed waist, trying to keep himself as worm as possible. Though there was something… something when he sat like that, arms around Blaine’s waist, that gave him warmth, something apart from Blaine’s body-heat. Something his body was producing itself and that felt so wonderful.

 Kurt was awake enough to walk up the stairs to Blaine’s room, but not awake enough to realize what he was doing, because if he was, Blaine knew that this would never happen. Kurt would never allow anyone to take care of him like this. He was way too proud for that.

   Kurt didn’t sleep as hard as he’d had throughout the day, but was still not awake enough to carry out a conversation.
Blaine got him to swallow a couple of pain killers to soothe the fever, got him to drink a couple of glasses of water and helped him to eat an apple and a banana, which he’d cut into small pieces and put in a bowl. It felt a lot like taking care of a little child or, well, like taking care of his mother, only completely different because Kurt was the same age as him and he wasn’t his mother. Kurt was just a friend that Blaine liked a little more than other friends he’d had, yet knew that this didn’t matter, because the other one barely saw him as a friend in the first place. But that wouldn’t stop him from taking care of him when he needed to be taken care of.

   When the digital clock showed Blaine that the time was just past two o’clock in the morning he left his room for a while to check on his mother. She was sleeping like a baby in her room, snoring loudly. She’d been sleeping a lot more than usual this past week, but Blaine wasn’t complaining; because maybe when she woke up she would be more stable.

  At twenty minutes over two, Blaine snuck himself in under the blankets of his bed, but kept the extra ones on Kurt’s side of the bed. The bed was warmer than ever and the closer he came to Kurt, the wormer it became; yet Kurt was still shaking. That damned fever wouldn’t give up.

  Just after four in the morning, Blaine woke up because something incredibly warm and slightly damp was pressed against the right side of his body. This turned out to be none other than Kurt, who’d found his way across the bed and was now lying as close to Blaine as he could, hands snaked around his right arm, face nuzzled against his bicep. Blaine’s first thought told him that he’d be a fool not to push him away, because Kurt surely wouldn’t want this if he was awake and conscious of what his body was doing, but then decided that it didn’t matter at the moment. Kurt seemed pleased enough and Blaine himself found the whole situation very pretty comfortable actually. He could feel Kurt’s breathe on him and the tugs on his arms that he made every once in a while almost made him want to break out into song or something.

   The two teenagers stayed like that for the next hours to come, sleeping deeply and comfortably by each other’s side. It’d been a very long time since Blaine slept this good, without any kind of disturbance or sleeping panic attacks. And if Kurt was to remember that night’s sleep as good as Blaine was going to, even he would have to admit that he hadn’t slept as well since he was a child with a home and family.  

The next day Blaine came to the conclusion that Kurt had to have the flue, plus some kind of food poisoning or something that made him unable to consume food properly. He helped Kurt take a shower (and was more than surprised when Kurt actually allowed Blaine to help him, because that just really wasn’t what he’d expected) and lend him a pair of sweatpants, (which were a couple of inches too short for him since the height difference between the two were quite big) one of his biggest t-shirts and a hoodie with the text ‘I ♥ NY’ on the belly, having absolutely no idea 1) where the hell he’d gotten it from and 2) why he had something like that in his room in the first place. But Kurt didn’t complain, he just seemed happy to wear something warm and comfortable.

  There wasn’t much talking between the two for the entirety of the day. Mostly Worried Mother questions and comments from Blaine and mumbled answers from Kurt. Outside the rain was pouring down the whole day, which was convenient considering. Around 12 a.m. Blaine called to cancel work for the day, telling them that he needed to stay home and take care of his mother, which he knew wouldn’t bring any further questions. He also called the school with the same excuse.

   When he turned on the TV later that day in hope for something to be on that could take his mind off things, there was a movie running that he’d seen a million times already. Edward Scissorhands, his mother’s favorite. Why on earth that was playing on TV he had no idea, but Kurt had seemingly never seen it before, because he was watching it with eyes more awake than they’d been for the entire day.

    “Used to be my favorite movie as a kid.” Kurt mumbled dreamingly once the credits started rolling. Blaine looked at him in surprise. “Haven’t seen it in ages…”

   “What?” Kurt asked when Blaine wouldn’t stop looking at him.

   “Edward Scissorhands was your favorite movie?”

   “Yeah, so what?”

   “Nothing, I just– I’d never’ve guessed it.”

   “Why not? Because it’s a love story?”

   Not only that, no, but sorta.

   “I used to put a pillow in front of my face and cover my ears when Edward killed that douche at the end.” Kurt carried on absently. The far-away look in his eyes was entirely different than what it normally looked like, Blaine saw, like he wasn’t thinking back on something horrible or trying to distance himself from the shitty reality; but like he was thinking back on something pleasant, something that made the corner of his mouth turn upwards in a faint little smile.

   When he shook his head clear of the memories a minute or so later, Blaine was still looking at him, smiling as well.

   “You’re starting to creep me out.” he said, voice still a bit rough from talking so little.

   “Seriously, stop looking at me.”

   “Tell me about it,” Blaine just replied, though no until he’d finally stopped looking at him.

   “Tell you ‘bout what?”

   “Tell me about the movie. Tell me what you thought about it as a kid. Tell me, I don’t know –just talk to me.”

   Kurt gave him a weird look that proved to him that he was already starting to get a bit better; he could see the cogs turning in his head, thinking about whether or not it’d be a smart move to do this.

   “I remembered that I felt very uncomfortable whenever that woman was in a scene –you know, that woman that was like super turned on by Edward of some fucking reason?”

   “Peg?”

   Kurt made a sound that came out as a laugh and a snort mixed together. “Peg’s the mom, dumbo. The woman’s name’s Joyce, and she’s creepy.”

   “She really is.” Blaine agreed. “What’d’you think about Edward?”

   “I thought…–I don’t remember what I thought,”

   “Don’t bullshit me you little snake, what were your thoughts about Edward Scissorhands?”

   Kurt looked like an embarrassed little child. “I wanted to be friends with him because I thought I could make him, I don’t know, better, I guess” He drew his legs up against his stomach and hid his face in his knees. “And I thought he was cute.” he said quietly, making Blaine laugh.

   “Stop laughing.” Kurt muttered, sounding like a three-year-old. “It’s not funny.”

   “No, it’s adorable, but you’re pretty funny.”

   “I’m pretty funny?”

   “Yeah. Since when did you get embarrassed over things like that?”

   “Since I had to talk about what I thought about my favorite childhood movie and realized what an idiot I was back then.”

   “You're still an idiot.”

   “Fuck you.” Kurt yawned loudly, lying down on the couch. Within ten minutes he was back to sleep, leaving Blaine to his thoughts and his creepy stalker want to just sit there and look at him for the rest of forever.

Kurt stayed at Blaine’s house for almost a week. Kurt wanted Blaine to go to school, didn’t want to be a burden, but Blaine just assured him that it wouldn’t hurt to stay at home for a couple of days, said everything was so easy anyway; something Kurt couldn’t really understand because every time he tried to actually get something done in any subject, he would find it too hard and just get angry, tare whatever it was he was working with apart and go to Scandals.
Scandals.
That place solved every problem. It had been his hiding place now for so long, just driving there and hide among the crowd, drowning his blood in alcohol, pretending that this was all there was to anything.

 This had stopped working now, and it was Quinn’s fault. It was all Quinn’s fault. She’d told him she’d never abandon him like everyone else always had in his life, and no matter how cheesy it was and no matter how much he’d mock her every time she told him, it’d still calmed something down inside him. Because he’d trusted her. She’d been his thread to hold on to for so long now, she’d been the one that kept him alive, and he’d trusted her with his life.

Then she pity fucked that pathetic asshole and was too fucking stupid to think about protection.

Then she pity fucked Puckerman and got pregnant.

Then she got pregnant and forgot every single one of her previous promises she’d made to Kurt- her ‘new family’.

 Yeah right.

 He’d been stupid to believe that anyone could ever actually want to be in his life for long. Quinn had lasted about three years. How long would Blaine last?

Ugh. The fact that that thought actually got into the center of his thoughts made him so frustrated.

Why was he always so fucking stupid? Blaine didn’t care about him, and Kurt didn’t care for him either. Sure, Blaine was taking care of him now when he was sick, but just because he thought he was pathetic and pitiful. There was no chance Blaine actually cared for him.

   “How’ you feelin’?” Blaine asked. Kurt jumped where he sat in the living room couch, staring blankly at the wall.

  “Depends what you’re referring to.”

  “I mean the flue side of everything.”

  “Better,” Kurt muttered, shaking himself a little and turning back to staring at the wall, not wanting to get stuck staring at the other; didn’t want to give Blaine weird, untrue signals.

   Blaine nodded. “You look less pale today,” he said. Kurt snorted.

  “’That a joke?” he asked. “I always look like a flipping sheet.”

  “Well, you’ve been looking like a flipping see-through sheet these past days, and today you look better.”

  “You’re not good with compliments.” Kurt said, trying to hide his playful smirk.

  “I know, but I’m still better than you.”

   A short non-awkward silence followed, then,

  “I’d really need to go to work for a while today, you think you could manage on your own for a couple of hours?”

  “You mean you trust me enough to leave me alone in your home?”

   Blaine nodded without hesitation. Kurt raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

  “Am I doing right in taking that as a ‘yes I could’?” Blaine asked after a while.

  “Sounds like a plan.” Kurt nodded.

    It was a plan. Later that day, Blaine left with a roar of his motorcycle.

   It felt weird to be home alone in a big house. It had been so many years since, so Kurt’d forgotten how it felt. But, Kurt got it proven to him that he was, in fact, not ‘home’ alone pretty quickly after Blaine left.

   Steps coming down the stairs made Kurt freeze where he lay on the couch. For a moment he thought of the fact that maybe this was just a weird fragment of his dream that had just stayed with him after he woke up, then he realized that it had to be Blaine’s mother.

  Blaine had told him a little about his mother that night when Kurt had told him everything, so it surprised him that he’d forgotten about her.

  Blaine’s mother, Marcie, if he remembered it right, had been psychologically unstable ever since his father had left when Blaine was twelve. He wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong, but he could guess that it probably was some kind of depression.

  Kurt sat and listened as the barefooted steps continued into the kitchen. He tried not to make a single noise, not wanting to scare that woman.

When he heard the sound of water pouring he dared to inhale another deep breath. The water was turned off again. Kurt exhaled as quietly as possible, and just as he thought he was safe, his body decided that it hadn’t ruined his life enough that day.

  The sound of a loud cough sounded in the house. A woman made a low, scared whimpering sort of sound and a glass fell to the ground, shattered and spread over the floor in a million pieces. Kurt cursed quietly.

    “Blaine?” asked a shrill voice. “Blaine honey is that you? I thought you had work today?”

   Kurt didn’t answer, just held his breath and tried to make himself as small as possible, tried to become one with the worn, once to be red, flowery fabric.

   A small woman rounded the corner and Kurt knew he’d been spotted.

   “Who’re you?” she asked, panicking.

   “Ehm… I’m just –I’m–“ Kurt stuttered helplessly.

    Help? How the hell do I talk to a mother?

   “I’m… uh –A friend of Blaine’s,” he decided then.

   “Where is he then?”

   “At work.” Kurt answered quickly, trying to figure out exactly why the hell he was getting so nervous.

   “And he just left you here?” she asked doubtingly.

   “Yes.” Kurt understood exactly why Marcie doubted what he was telling him.

   “I’m calling the cops.” she said with her shrill little panicking voice, taking a step towards the phone.

   “No! I mean –no, there’s no need for that.”

    “What are you doing in my living room and where is my son?” she screamed suddenly.

    “Blaine’s at work –no please, Mrs. Anderson there’s no need for that,” Kurt said desperately when Marcie took yet another step towards the phone, a hand outstretched to grasp it.

    Mrs. Anderson? Really Kurt? Really? Blaine told you what her husband did to her. And since when did you call people Mrs. in the first place?

   “I’m not married!” she screamed, making Kurt flinch. There really was something scary about mothers.

   “What’s your name?” Marcie asked after doing some kind of breathing exercise, seemingly trying to calm herself down.

   “Kurt,” Kurt said, not thinking.

   “Kurt!” Suddenly, every bit of anger washed off her face and instead there was an expression of such happiness Kurt couldn’t ever react to it.

   “…Yes?”

   What the hell?

   “I was wondering when I was going to finally meet you!” She ran a funny little run and placed her little body beside Kurt, a couple of inches closer than he was comfortable with.

   “You –know who I am?”

   “Of course I do!” she smiled at him, almost too much. “Blaine’s been telling me all about you.”

   “R… eally?”

   He tried to convince himself that this was just something that the woman said to try and be polite, that this was something people told other people to try and make whoever it was feel good about themselves. It worked pretty well, until:

   “Yes. I’m so sorry about your mother dying like that. Really a pity things like that happens in the world.”

   Oh, you fucking fuck you said you wouldn’t say anything.

   “It is isn’t it?” Kurt said, putting on his best fake smile, trying as hard as he could to be polite. He had no idea how he was doing though, because it had been years since.

   Kurt had to deal with Marcie for nearly two hours before Blaine finally came home again. Though the sight of him didn’t make Kurt any happier, neither did it fill him with relief. It just made him angrier than he already was.

   “Mom.” Blaine cried, alarmed. He knew that she had a tendency of not knowing how to speak to people and that most people did not really enjoy this very much.

 He quickly got her back in her room after heating some food in the microwave and carrying it up to her room with a glass of water and her medicines.

  “Don’t take your pills I put on the tray until after you eat, mom,” he half shouted once he was halfway back down the stairs. He got a quick ‘I know’ in respond.

  “Sorry ‘bout that.” Blaine breathed, jumping over the back of the couch and landing on one if the armrests.

  “What’s up?” he asked when Kurt wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence.

  “Come again?” Blaine asked when Kurt whispered something too quietly for him to hear.

  “You told her.” he whispered, a little louder.

  “Told her what?”

  “Well, according to your lovely mom, you’ve told her ‘everything about me’.”

  “I didn’t tell her anything.” Blaine said, though looking slightly guarded, like her was thinking very carefully about which words he was to choose next.

  “She knew how my mom died, Blaine.” Kurt snapped, turning and looking angrily at him.

  “I –“

  “She knew I had a little brother named Blaine and she knew what happened to him, as well as the fact that he was supposed to be one of twins.”

  “That was –a mistake–“

  “A mistake?” Kurt laughed a hollow laugh. He wasn’t feeling at all sick anymore. “Yeah, bra-fucking-vo, Blaine. You really couldn’t have thought of any better excuse than that, could you? A mistake? I mean really?”

  “Kurt –“

  “You don’t just –‘woops, just happened to tell my mom this guy’s entire life story, well, whatever, it was a mistake, never mind’.”

  “Would you just –“

  “No! I would not just. I trusted you with more information than I trusted Quinn with. I lived with her for three years and she knows less than you do!”

  “I didn’t tell mom anything –“

  “Blaine, you know what –fuck you.” Kurt stood up. “Fuck you and fuck your lies, because that’s all you are. A bunch of white lies to get people to like you.”

  “I didn’t know she heard me!” Blaine stood up, making a great gesture with his left arm.

  “You didn’t know she heard you?” Kurt articulated every word.

  “She was sleeping.” Blaine explained, still having that look to him as if he picked every word as carefully as he could. “She was sleeping and I like to talk to her then, because then I don’t have to hear her comments on everything.”

  “Well, clearly she wasn’t sleeping, Blaine, since she heard every goddamned word of it.”

  “Then she was pretending to sleep.”

  “Bunch of lies.” Kurt spat.

  “Look –after everything you told me, did you really expect me to keep completely quiet about it all?”

  “That’s what you promised me to do.” Kurt said angrily.

  “I know, but I’m human, Kurt, and human beings break promises all the time.”

  “I knew it was stupid to trust you.”

   Blaine should’ve felt good about the fact that he now knew that Kurt had trusted him for sure, but there was too much going on at the moment for him to give it even a second thought.

  “Look, I know that she never speaks to the outside world, so when she was sleeping –or when I thought she was sleeping; I told her stuff, yes.” Blaine talked slowly, as if he was trying to calm down a wild animal. “I know that it was a pretty stupid move, but I still think it was better to tell a sleeping woman that never goes anywhere but around the house and to the hospital, than to tell someone who could’ve spread it around like wildfire.”

  “I’m done.” Kurt just said, turned around and walked towards the hall, not thinking about the fact that he still wore the ‘I ♥ NY’ hoodie.

  “Kurt, come on,” Blaine jumped forward and took hold of Kurt’s arm, who tried to bend free but failed; the flu or whatever it was still getting the better of him. “I swear I didn’t know she heard me –I –I would never do that to you –“

   Kurt turned around sharply. “And why not?” he asked harshly.

  “Because –I just wouldn’t.” Blaine said honestly, trying his best not to break eye contact, which would probably be seen as a sign of lying from Kurt’s side if things. “I just wouldn’t.”

  “Why not?” Kurt repeated.

  “Look,” Blaine said when he decided that the smartest thing wasn’t to answer the question straight on, since that didn’t seem to work anyway. “I just –would you stop pulling?” Kurt was still trying to break free from Blaine's grasp.

  “If you let me go.”

  “If you don’t leave.”

  “Fine.” Kurt muttered and Blaine let go of him. Kurt backed a few steps so he stood and rested himself against the wall.

   “Okay.” Blaine sighed. “Not to go and be too deep, when I’m with you, when we’re talking and stuff I… –feel like nothing else matters sort of.” He finally had to look away, because the burning heat that was starting to climb up the back of his neck seemed to get quicker by looking at Kurt and the way he was trying to work out what Blaine's word meant. Blaine himself wasn’t exactly sure what they meant either, he just sort of hoped his brain could work out what and how much it was best to say at the moment, with as little active help from Blaine’s side as it was possible.

  “I don’t know why, I don’t know when it happened, but it’s different with you than with any of the friends I’ve previously had.

  “And, the fact that you trusted me with so much so quickly after we met makes me… makes me feel like you know what I’m talking about.” He dared to cast a quick look up at Kurt’s face again, then looked away when he saw the look on his face.

Kurt had always been like an open book to him, just one glance and he knew exactly what he was thinking. But he couldn’t now. Maybe because the look had been so quick, or maybe because there was so much going on, or at least it seemed that way to Blaine. So much going on in his mind Kurt couldn’t keep up with what to do with his face.

  “I don’t… I don’t want to be cheesy –I hate cheesy, but –sometimes it feels like everything going through my mind when I look at you is too cheesy to be said out loud.”

   What was happening? Kurt’d just wanted him to explain why he wouldn’t tell on him to anyone who might make stuff spread. He hadn’t wanted –this, whatever it was.

  “And lately,” he carried on, not being able not to. Once he’d started something it’d always been hard for him to stop. “It’s gotten ‘worse’. And I feel that –maybe it’s your fault, because –because you’ve started to think a lot about what’s going on as well, and that some subconscious part of me can feel that.”

  Kurt opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking his head slightly, making some kind of inward sigh.

  “And, I’ve broken promises before, many times, and it hasn’t been a big deal to me. But –breaking the promise I made to you about keeping quite felt like such a big deal to me. I have no idea why, but the thought of having to look you in the eye after betraying you, I just couldn’t stand it, ya know?”

  Shit. This was getting out of hand. He was going too far. He was going to scare Kurt away with his stupid words.

  “Would you –do you understand what I’m talking about here or am I just trying to catch thin air?” Blaine asked desperately.

  “I –would you just excuse me a moment?” Kurt croaked after a moment, walking past Blaine, but being very careful not to touch him. He went to the bathroom, but instead of the one on the floor he was already on, he almost ran up the stairs to the one on the upper floor.

   Shit. Shit shit shit shit! What was he thinking? What made him think that that had been okay?

   Kurt was standing with his back rested against the locked bathroom door, breathing heavily.

He was trying not to think, at the same time as he was trying to think everything through very carefully. It wasn’t going well.

   What exactly had gotten into Blaine down there? Kurt’d just asked for a simple explanation, and he ran away and made it hurt in Kurt’s chest with his damned words.

How the hell could words hurt anyway?

Things hurt because they’re important. Things hurt because they matter. A voice from somewhere long ago told him. One of his therapists had told him that forever ago, and he’d just thought it was a stupid lie that he didn’t understand.

  He still didn’t understand it.

Blaine’s words didn’t matter. Why would they? There was no reason to –

  But he’d said exactly the right things? He’d put what had been going on in his fucking mess of a brain for weeks now into words. It’d been impossible for Kurt himself to, and there Blaine went and did it, just like that.

   “Okay…” Kurt rubbed his face and walked over to the sink, turned on the water and splashed is face in ice cold water.

  “Calm down, Kurt. Calm down.”

   But I –what is happening? He almost started panicking. He’d never felt like this before. Ever. He couldn’t put it into words because he wasn’t good with anything involving feelings, had distanced himself from shit like that when he’d finally understood that feelings weren’t good for anything, that all they did was keep you away and give you a lump in your stomach that wouldn’t go away no matter what you did.

  And what he was feeling now had kept him awake at night. What he was feeling now did give him a lump in his stomach.
What he was feeling was Blaine’s fault. Blaine’s fault. All Blaine’s fault.

But he wasn’t angry with Blaine for making him feel like a pathetic piece of feelings, not at all. Not at the moment at least. At the moment, with all those things Blaine had just told him, with the exhaustion of the flu still running through his veins, making him unable to think as clearly as he’d want to, with his heart beating in his throat, all he wanted to do was–