Quinn returns the next day with freshly cooked food. There’s a pulley system with a basket over the ledge of the porch, and Kurt’s mouth is watering from the smell as it lifts higher and higher. They don’t talk while they eat - bird of some kind and roasted vegetables – and Kurt is so hungry that it’s difficult to remember his manners.

“I told Blaine I’d warned you about going into the jungle, so the rope ladder will be there from now on, okay?” Quinn says when she seems to have had her fill of sweet potato.

“How benevolent of him,” Kurt says dryly.

“Now, don’t be like that. He was a little sore I hadn’t told you a few other things, though. So, he asked me to relay this message.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, indicating that he’s listening.

“Blaine would like you to be his mate, and he wants you to understand that he’s leader of our community,” Quinn says.

Kurt balks. “That’s never going to happen, and why should I care that he’s the leader? Is he trying to order me to be with him?”

“No, don’t be dramatic.” Quinn smiles fondly. “I think he wants to…impress you.”

“Why would being the leader of a group of primitive tree-dwellers impress me?”

“Look, Kurt. I understand you didn’t ask for this. I understand you’re homesick and probably scared—” Kurt huffs. “—But this group of ‘primitive tree-dwellers’ saved my life, and more than likely saved yours, so you need to start showing a little respect. We aren’t animals.”

Kurt’s face heats up to hear Quinn’s voice raised, for her to scold him like he’s a child. He runs a hand down his sleeve, and then the other, folding his hands primly on his lap. He puffs up his chest with faux bravado.

“I’m not scared,” he says haughtily. “And besides, it’s hard to find respect for a man who keeps trying to force kisses on me.”

“He tried to kiss you?” Quinn grimaces and sighs. “I’ll tell him to stop.”

�“Yes, well.” It’s all Kurt can find to say at the moment, not wanting to admit that Blaine hadn’t merely tried, he had, complete with inappropriate touching.

“There is a distinct difference between the way people here view coupling and the way you’re probably used to. It was a bit of a surprise for me when I was new here, too. People here are very…open. There isn’t a lot of shame involved with those matters,” Quinn says, and Kurt can tell she’s struggling to explain.

“I would just assume a person should ask another if they want such things. It’s only polite,” Kurt says importantly, hoping he isn’t blushing.

“Of course, Kurt. I’ll let him know,” she says, settling in her rocking chair. “Shall we get on with your lesson?”

Kurt listens, repeats, and memorizes to the best of his ability, scribbling much of it down with the ink and parchment he’d packed. He pays close attention, his mind wandering just a few times. He doesn’t know what to make of Blaine wanting to be his mate. Is it really so simple here? A person merely picks another, and that’s that?� Kurt always assumed marriage, unless it was arranged, was a decision made over time, and that it required love, or at least good breeding. That last one was what Sue said, anyway. Men can’t carry children, so genes can’t be a factor for Blaine, and Kurt is fairly certain Blaine can’t be in love with him. Blaine hasn’t even brought him flowers or candy. Kurt would probably accept a poem. Or…

“Quinn,” Kurt interrupts. “Do you have tea here?”

“Yes, would you like some?”

“Not at the moment, but maybe when we’re finished.”

�Quinn opens her mouth, presumably to continue his lesson, but Kurt speaks up again. “Quinn?”

“Yes, Kurt?”

“Is there someone named David here?” Kurt asks, the question coming out in a rush. He’s been afraid to ask, too afraid the answer will be no. “He would be new by a few months.”

Quinn’s eyes lower, lips pursing, and it tells Kurt enough. His heart sinks.

“There hasn’t been anyone new in at least a year—hey,” she says, reaching out and laying a hand on his knee. She gives it a light squeeze. “He could have gone in another direction.”

Kurt nods, but all he can picture is David out there alone in the Wild, lost and scared.

“He’s a friend?”

“Of a sort,” Kurt says.

“I had to leave behind some dear friends as well,” Quinn says, absently rubbing a hand over her belly. “One was like a sister to me. I had an actual older sister, but it wasn’t the same. She didn’t know me like my best friend did, you know?”

Kurt nods like he does, but David was probably his only friend, and that wasn’t saying much. The only time Kurt had actually spent with David, thwarted tea party aside, were the walks to and from choir practice. That’s a lousy excuse for friendship. Kurt wanting it to be real hadn’t made it so, much as he tried. Friends were supposed to talk about anything and everything, share experiences and understand each other. Kurt realizes with a sudden, sharp pang that he’s never had that. Since the death of his parents, which feels like a lifetime ago, Kurt hasn’t had anyone.

The emotion must be showing on his face, because when he looks up he sees Quinn’s expression is one of abject sympathy. His cheeks flush and he looks away. He doesn’t want that from her.

“I don’t miss anyone,” he says stubbornly.

“It’s okay. You’ll make new friends here, if you let yourself,” Quinn says in this annoyingly gentle voice that he hates.

“I’ve had enough for today.”

“Kurt—”

“I have a headache,” he snaps.

There’s a long moment of silence between them, and then Quinn gives in. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.”

Kurt doesn’t answer, and only when she’s out of sight does he finally allow himself to sink to the floor, arms wrapped around his stomach as though he’s holding himself together. He can still see her face in his mind and he curses softly under his breath that he can’t rid himself from the image of it. He doesn’t want her to look at him that way, like there is something wrong with him, like he is so inept he can’t even make a friend. The worst part is that she doesn’t even really know, mistaking his loneliness as something new when it’s been here the whole time. It’s just harder to ignore -- heightened tenfold, here -- where he can’t speak the language and doesn’t know the culture.

Back home he told himself he was better than everyone, that they didn’t deserve to speak to him. He thinks back to their disdainful looks he’d dismissed as jealousy, their snickering and whispered comments as he passed. He allowed himself to be flattered that he was so above them that they wouldn’t even approach him. He had believed them to be envious. Hadn’t he?

It hits him like a punch to the gut. They weren’t intimidated by him, they simply didn’t like him. They didn’t. He knows the truth now, remembering how Randall’s nose wrinkled in disgust when Kurt asked him a question about their calligraphy assignment, remembers how Susan wouldn’t pass him a book when they were being handed out, how no one would sit by him, how no one would pass to him in lacrosse. The only time anyone had shown a sliver of interest in him was after they found out about his scandal with David. He thought those boys liked him, but wonders now if it had been more of a dare for them, some kind of thrill. Kiss Sue’s favorite and see if you get away with it. None of them had asked for his company afterward.

Kurt finally picks himself off the floor. He crawls into bed, burying himself in the soft animal hide blankets. It’s hot and humid and sweat is already dotting his hairline, but he doesn’t care, he wants to hide away and be forgotten. He hates the world all the more for hating him. The feeling of desolation is enough to make his eyes burn with the promise of tears, but he won’t let them out. He cried that first night in the Wild and he won’t repeat it. Kurt Hummel does not cry. Not for anyone, certainly not for himself.

After hours of willing himself to sleep, and failing at it, the smell of cooked food wafts along in the breeze. Kurt ignores it. He has no appetite and no desire for looks of derision from an entirely new group of people. As dusk falls Kurt finds himself unable to get his mind away from these lonely thoughts no matter how hard he tries to think of other things. Thoughts of David make it worse, thoughts of his parents unbearably so. Kurt squeezes his eyes closed and casts his mind away, toward chess moves and fencing strategies.

It is no use, and when he feels at the absolute lowest point of despair, there is a sudden pressure around his middle, dragging him from his thoughts and from the haze of impending sleep.

“Wha—” Kurt rolls to his back, pulling the blankets from over his head, confused.

“Kurt.”

Kurt is met with Blaine’s smiling face, nestled in next to him under the hides. He hadn’t even heard him climb up. Blaine’s arm is around him and his eyes are filled with a warmth Kurt can’t define. It takes the fight right out of him, inexplicably magnifying his heartache to the point that he’s finding it hard to breathe. When Blaine urges Kurt onto his side so that they’re face to face, Kurt lets him.

Kurt simply stares, unable to say anything meaningful in Maelin. Blaine gazes right back, his strange gold-brown eyes somehow bright in the darkened room. Blaine’s eyelashes are especially thick, framing his eyes in broad sweeps of black. Kurt is so close he can see everything, and he lets himself look this time, ignoring the small voice of dissention in the back of his head.

“You can kiss me if you want,” Kurt whispers.

Blaine can’t understand him, but maybe he sees something in Kurt’s eyes. He reaches out and touches the tips of three fingers to Kurt’s mouth, tracing the shape of his lips. His fingers trail feather-light up his cheek, along his cheekbone, to his temple. Everything inside Kurt aches, Blaine’s tender looks and touches make Kurt ache for what he’s never had. But Blaine is here. Blaine has brought him into his own home, he wants Kurt to be his. With Blaine, Kurt isn’t alone.

Kurt swallows past the small lump forming in his throat. “Maybe you aren’t so bad. I haven’t decided yet. It wasn’t nice of you to try and kiss me when you hadn’t asked, you know.”

Blaine just continues to look, slightly quizzical, his arm coming to rest around Kurt’s waist.

“But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to kiss you,” Kurt murmurs, eyes lowering to study Blaine’s mouth. It is awfully pretty for a Wild man.

“So bad…to kiss you,” Blaine says, and Kurt’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You know what I’m saying?”

“You know what I’m saying?” Blaine mimics slowly. He smiles cheekily, like look what I just did, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“You’re awful, Blaine.”

Blaine looks absolutely delighted when Kurt says his name, and is quick to repeat him. “You’re awful, Blaine.”

Kurt snickers, smiling a little. “You’re magnificent, Kurt.”

“You’re magnificent, Kurt,” Blaine says, returning his smile.

Kurt laughs quietly, and Blaine’s smile brightens even more. Kurt finds himself smiling too, gazing at Blaine’s face, and clears his throat a little, blushing. “Anyway…”

Blaine opens his mouth to copy him. Kurt presses two fingers to Blaine’s lips to stop him. “No, shh,” he says in Maelin. “No more. We should just. Sleep.”

Blaine’s eyes follow Kurt’s movements as he lowers his hand. Slowly, Kurt scoots forward until his head is tucked under Blaine’s chin, face against his chest and body flush with Blaine’s. Blaine hugs him even closer than before, makes a soft, short humming sound. Kurt can hear Blaine’s heart beating and his body slowly starts to relax. He has never been held like this and he has to close his eyes against the way they sting.

“Good night, Blaine,” he whispers with feeling.

“Good night, Kurt.”