Tucked away safely behind an old CD player, under a blanket in the corner of his rather extensive wardrobe was a shoebox. Painted over was the brand and size, the magazine clippings that covered the box had begun to curl at the edges. The box itself, despite the countless hours Kurt had spent decorating it, held little importance when compared to its contents. Small mementos of a young boys life, symbols of innocents and moments that were worth dog-earing. He now sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor with his battered 'treasure box' in front of him, Blaine beside him.

"Nobody has ever seen the inside of this box." Kurt mentioned as he dragged his knuckles across the curled images before fingering the lid off. "I had no idea I was dating a closeted hoarder." Blaine's cheeky smile was met with a glare. "I'm trying to be serious here." Blaine chuckled softly and placed his hand on Kurt's knee. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm honoured. Please keep going." His expression softened and he lifted the first object out of the box.  

The pebble was cold in his hand; he closed his fingers around it before opening up his fist so it lay in the middle of his palm. He offered the pebble to Blaine and he gently took it. As Blaine rubbed the unbelievably smooth pebble with his thumb Kurt took a breath and began speaking. "The summer before my mother died we went camping at Indian Lake. It rained the whole time..."

It was quarter to eleven on a humid Tuesday night and memories came alive in his bedroom.