Chapter 5: Flames

Let me give you something that is real
Close the door, leave your fears behind
Let me give you what you're giving me
You are the only thingthat makes me want to live at all
When I am with you,there's no reason to pretend
-Flames by Vast

The air in Blaine's house was so tense when he walked in that he almost turned right around and headed back out again. Of course, if he didn't deal with his mother now, it only meant he would have to deal with her later instead. He turned around to look out the window. It was still a perfect afternoon outside, the wind just gently tugging at the trees, the sun still lingering in the slowly cooling sky. He could go skateboard for a while, clear his head some. His encounters with Kurt throughout the day had left his head feeling fuzzy and his whole body confused. He couldn't tell whether he was dreading spending time with the boy while working on their community service project together or if he was excited about it. And that bothered him.

Before he had a chance to make a decision about whether to face his mom or flee the scene, his mother made the choice for him.

"Blaine," his name resounded from the kitchen in a piercing tone that bounced off of all the walls and seemed to rattle the photographs on the walls. Photographs of their "perfect" little family. Most days Blaine wanted to take the photographs and chuck them at the walls.

He sighed. "Yes Mother Dearest." He knew his snarky comment wouldn't help him much but he couldn't stop himself.

"Don't give me that Blaine Devon Anderson. Get in here immediately."

He dropped his skateboard and backpack by the door, knowing fully he'd be scolded for that later too.

"What?" he asked with a sigh, annoyance evident in his voice. His mother was sitting at their kitchen table with her hands folded in front of her, lips pressed thinly together. She wore a pristine white pantsuit and a lavender blouse, all complimented by silver jewelry and perfectly straight blonde hair. Blaine wondered often why she went through so much effort to keep up the façade, that she was some sort of perfect, elegant housewife, when really they were poor and pathetic. But he supposed he knew the answer: she needed this, this was all that she had.

"Blaine," she said to him, blue eyes cold under her thickly-coated eyelashes. Blaine didn't fail to notice the nearly empty glass of red wine that sat next to her on the table, the top of the glass smudged with the slightest of pink lipstick stains.

"I just got a call from your principle."

Blaine's shoulders slumped at the words. He had been hoping against hope that his mother wouldn't have to find out about this.

"He told me you were in afighttoday. With that little gay boy."

Blaine's eyes flashed suddenly at the latter statement. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"You will not use that language in this house Young Man," His mother said angrily, before taking another long sip of her wine. She closed her eyes "I just want to say this once and then we won't talk about it anymore."

That's a first, Blaine thought, but didn't voice his thoughts, knowing they might very well earn him a back-handed slap to the cheek. And his mother, while small, had some force behind her hits. Not to mention her bulky rings could really sting.

"I understand why you would want to beat that kid up. I do Blaine. Especially if he was...if he was trying to make some sort of...pass at you. You're a very attractive boy Darling and I know you get a lot of offers. I always did too."

Blaine narrowed his eyes, trying to understand what his mother was saying.

"And trust me, I know what it's like. To get hit on by thosegaypeople. God, there was one girl back in high school who was so relentless," she laughed, the sound a hard one when it came from her humorless mouth.

"But anyway. The point is that, I know it makes you uncomfortable, as it should, and I'm proud of you for standing up for yourself. But, Honey, you've got to do it more subtly next time. Or just report him to a teacher for harassment. I know that's not 'as cool' and God knows I've taught you well enough that you're able to defend yourself against that sort of unwanted attention, but it's just not worth risking your future-our futuresfor. Now I talked to Principle Higgins-"

"What the fuck Mom!" Blaine had clenched his hands into fists at his sides and was now breathing heavily through his teeth. He could feel the vein on his forehead begin to throb painfully. He couldn't remember being this angry with his mother in a long time, and that was truly saying something.

"Excuse me Blaine!" His mother gasped, a hand flying to her chest in horror at the language that had just been directed at her from her teenage son's mouth.

"Cut the shit Mom. Where do you think I learned that word from in the first place? Certainly wouldn't have been all the screaming matches with Dad, would it have been? Or should I have called them attacks, since that's what they mostly were anyway- you screaming and belittling my father for trying to do some goddamned good in this world." Blaine held up a hand when his mother tried to speak and was surprised, with no small amount of delight, when it actually silenced her.

"But after all of thesmall, ignorant, disgustingthings I've seen you do over the course of my childhood, this is really the lowest of them all. I cannot believe you think that I would beat up another kid just because he's gay- that you wouldencouragethat behavior. It genuinely makes me ashamed to be related to you."

His mother sat speechless, the last swig in her glass of wine left completely forgotten. She sat there, breathing hard for several moments, staring hard into the glaring, dark eyes of her teenage son, before managing to speak again.

"How dare you talk to me that way. I am your mother!"

"Yeah I'm aware of that unfortunate fact."

"Oh my God," the woman said, more to herself than Blaine. "Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening. Blaine," she said, and he noticed the note of desperation that was suddenly present in her voice. She stood up and walked over to her son, reaching out a hand to grab his own.

"Blaine you're not- dear God please tell me that you're not-gay, are you?"

"God, Mom, no!" Blaine dropped his mother's hand in disgust. "I'm dating Quinn for Christ's sakes.

His mother took a few shaky breaths and sat down again.

"I know that, you just seemed so impassioned...for a moment I wasn't sure if maybe that Hummel boy hadn't infected you or something." She sipped the rest of her wine.

"Infected me?"

"Well yes." His mother looked up at him innocently, clearly having no idea what she might have said to make her son so upset.

"You're sick," he nearly spat at her.

"No Blaine! It's that gay boy that's sick! Him and his father and all the teachers at that school of yours who allow people like him to walk around openly. This is what I hate most about you having had to leave your private school Blaine. Iknowthe kids you have to interact with at your high school are beneath you and I'm sorry for that. Your father doesn't understand how important it is for you to be surrounded by the right kind of influences. But Ido," she insisted, getting up to grab the bottle of wine off the counter and refill her glass.

Blaine was so infuriated that he was genuinely scared of what he might do if he didn't get out of there immediately.

"I'm leaving," he muttered heavily, turning on his heel and reaching the door he had just entered through in mere seconds.

"Blaine!" His mother called from the kitchen. "Blaine come back here! I wasn't finished discussing this with you!" But Blaine had already opened the door, skateboard in hand, and was down the street. He had made it a couple blocks before he felt calm enough to tug his cell phone out of his pocket. His breathing had mostly returned to normal.

He stopped to sit on the curb, turning his forearm so that he could read the numbers written on the inside left, punching them shakily into his phone. The phone rang three times before the voice on the other end picked up. Blaine felt physical relief fill his body, the tension from his shoulders dissolving almost instantly at the sound.

"Hello?" Kurt said. His voice was so light and relaxed, so different from the tension filled one that had been laced with bitterness and pain back at school. The indifference and toughness was gone too, revealing, simply, Kurt. Kurt how he must have been before, before all the heartache of this world had started to seep into his veins. Not that Blaine blamed him- if the way his mother had just spoke to him was the way Kurt got spoken to on a regular basis- he took a deep breath. He couldn't evenimagine...

"Hello? If this another one of those creepy pervert calls where all I'm going to hear on the other end is heavy-breathing, I'm hanging up now and I'll block this number just like I did the last one." The edge was back.

"No wait Kurt, it's me!" Blaine was embarrassed by how desperate he sounded but he didn't have time to dwell on that.

"Curly-Q," Kurt replied, his tone softening with a trace of a smile coming through. Blaine's stomach curled a little bit, thinking about how it had beenhimwho had caused that softening, that small smile, and then shook his head in disbelief at the path his own thoughts were taking. It was just nice to know that he was someone Kurt might be starting to feel safe with, after all the guards he usually had up with everyone else.

"It certainly didn't take long for you to call. I thought it'd be days at least before you worked up the courage," Kurt said with a good-natured sounding smirk in his voice.

"Yeah well, I needed to get out of my house. You were the first person that came to mind to call."

"I was, was I?" Kurt sounded vaguely interested in that comment, but Blaine didn't question it.

"Well your number was on my arm after all. Listen, do you think we could meet up right now or something?"

"Meet up? To talk about the community service project?"

"Sure. Yes," Blaine said, not wanting to admit that he mostly just wanted to meet up in order to listen to Kurt's voice some more, always so certain, so calming, to maybe look into his eyes once again and see if they held what he had thought they did earlier.

"Mmkay," Kurt hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I expect being seen around in public with me might destroy your reputation once and for all and we certainly can't have that. No one's at my house right now, so I'd suggest coming here, unless it's too freaky for you."

"No, that's perfect."

"Not worried you're going to get raped?" Kurt replied edgily but Blaine knew there was more than a little sincerity to his question. It made him sad, to think about what had put Kurt so on edge like this, made him so hard and distrusting, when Blaine could tell it was in his nature to be soft and genuine.

"Shut up Hummel. Just give me the address."

x-x-x-x-x-x

When Blaine showed up at Kurt's house, he had to admit, it wasn't really what he was expecting. Well, he wasn't sure quitewhathe'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this. It was cozy, sweet, the house painted yellow and surrounded by rose bushes. Blaine somewhat warily followed the stone path that was arched half-way through by an intricately carved trellis. What was he doing here? Kurt was only going to belittle him; he would probably do something to embarrass himself. Like say aloud one of the weird thoughts he'd been having ever since he'd seen Kurt for the first time. He'd have to make an extra effort to think before he spoke.

He finally reached the door, knocking tentatively. No one answered. Was this some sort of prank? He'd thought he and Kurt had reached a kind of truce earlier. He knocked again louder. Nothing. But Kurt's Harley was parked clearly outside. And when Blaine pressed his ear up to the door, he could hear something faintly, music, drifting through the house and out of the front door. Like a man possessed, Blaine did something he would never have dreamed he would do; he pushed open the door and walked in without waiting for an invitation.

The inside of the house wasn't much different from the outside in that it too, was tasteful, yet cozy and welcoming. Badass Kurt Hummel who drove a motorcycle and wore leather and chains livedhere? Blaine was still having trouble wrapping his head around it. He found it charming though. Someone cared about Kurt. His home looked like a real home, certainly much more than anywhere Blaine had ever lived. It was nice.

He was so lost in this reverie that it took Blaine a few moments to notice that the sound of the music was louder now. It was coming from the basement. The sounds of a piano playing and drifting, floating on top of it: a boy singing.Kurtsinging. It sounded almost ethereal. His voice was so perfect, so pure, unlike any voice Blaine had ever heard before. It didn't even seem possible, for anyone to have a voice that angelic.

Blaine followed the sounds, stopping in front of a partially-open door that led to a downstairs room where the music was clearly coming from. Going down would be a huge invasion of privacy, might even cause Kurt to stop making the beautiful music, but then, Blaine couldn't help himself. He was drawn to it, like sailors drawn to the call of the sirens. He moved as though in a trance. When he finally made it down the stairs, he found himself in a decent-sized bedroom, presumably Kurt's, with a small upright piano tucked in the corner. And he inhaled in amazement. Because there was Kurt, bent over the instrument lovingly, his hands flowing across the keys like they were water and he was swimming through the ocean of it all. His head was tilted back slightly and while Blaine couldn't see his face, he could tell his eyes were closed as he poured his heart into the words of the song:

Death is a cold, blindfolded kiss; it is the finger pressed upon our lips

It puts an unwanted emphasis on how we should've lived

Life is a gorgeous, broken gift: six billion pieces waiting to be fixed

Love letters that were never signed, sent to where we live

The sweetest thing I've ever heard is that I don't have to have all the answers

Just a little light to call my own

Though it pales in comparison to the over-arching shadows

A speck of light can reignite the sun and swallow darkness whole

Blaine didn't realize until Kurt had finished the song that he had been holding his breath the whole time he had been standing there. He released his breath as quietly as he could...but not quietly enough.

"What the fuck Anderson?" Kurt had leapt off of the piano bench and was now standing next to his bed, arms crossed defensively across his chest, eyes watching Blaine coldly, almost...fearfully.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said immediately. "I knocked, but no one answered. I really don't know what came over me. I know it was wrong but no one was answering and I knew you were home and then I heard the music..."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "How much did you hear?"

"Most of it," Blaine admitted. "But I was only really down here for the end."

"Get the fuck out."

"What? Kurt-"

"I said. Get. The. Fuck. Out."

"Please Kurt, don't send me away," Blaine was begging and he knew it, but he didn't care. "I'm sorry, I intruded. It's just...that was beautiful," Blaine felt his face flush as he heard his voice crack at the end, his last statement a near-whisper.

"What?" Kurt seemed genuinely shocked at the statement.

"It was beautiful Kurt. I had no idea that you could play like that, orsinglike that. What song was that?"

"It's called 'Emphasis' by Sleeping At Last," Kurt said quietly, his arms still crossed, stance still clearly on the defensive. "Why do you want to know?"

"Believe me when I say Kurt, I've never heard a voice that perfect in my entire life."

"If you're fucking with me..." Kurt began severely.

"I would never fuck with you. Not about something like this," Blaine said, hating himself once more for how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Well thanks, I guess," Kurt finally replied, awkwardly shrugging his shoulders.

"You're welcome," Blaine said reverently. "I just- I don't know why you keep that hidden."

Kurt laughed, that scornful, jaded laugh that Blaine had already come to recognize. "Not everyone is as full of praise about my singing voice as you are Blaine. I get enough shit about my speaking voice. When people hear me sing...let's just say, I give them a whole new outlet to bully me through. Peoplehatemy voice, Blaine."

"People hate what they don't understand, Kurt. And more than that, they hate it when something is beautiful when they feel like it shouldn't be. It makes them feel stupid and inferior. Your voice ismoving. It doesn't even sound like it's from earth. And that, scares the shit out of people. And so they take it out on you."

The smallest bit of a smile was visible in Kurt's demeanor now. His face had softened as Blaine had been talking and Blaine felt his heart squeeze inside his chest. How quickly Kurt had tensed up, how quickly he had gone on defense. The most awful part of it was that Blaine had been able to see traces of fear through the mask. Kurt had been afraid- trulyafraidof what Blaine would do when he heard him singing. It made Blaine's insides ache.

"Well now that you've invaded every corner of my personal life, let me ask you something Blaine Anderson."

"Sure." Blaine nodded.

"Why did you want to get out of your house so badly earlier? And why was I the person you called? I find it hard to believe that working on a community service project would be that enticing to you that I'd be the first person you rang up."

Blaine shrugged. "I didn't really have anyone else to call."

"Bullshit. You're the most popular guy in the school; you said so yourself."

It was Blaine's turn to laugh scornfully. He moved to sit on the edge of Kurt's bed, not even noticing the way Kurt's eyes widened at the intrusion. "As if being the most popular guy in school is any sort of guarantee that I have friends. I mean, sure, I have 'friends'. But people to talk to? People who understand me, care about me? Yeah, that's a good laugh."

"What about your girlfriend?"

"The girlfriend I'm not fucking?" Blaine looked up to see shock painting Kurt's features. "Yeah. You were right earlier. Quinn and I- we don't have sex. And I don't even honestly knowwhy. Anyway, she's not exactly the person I go to with all my personal problems."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"You asked."

"That doesn't mean you had to answer."

"Would you rather I didn't?"

"No," Kurt said, moving to sit down beside Blaine, still keeping a good foot and a half of distance between them. "I just don't understand why you...trustme."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't really understand it either. But for some reason I just do."

"You're a goddamned idiot Curly-Q," Kurt said laughingly. "But I can't say I'm unhappy about it."

"You don't trust me though," Blaine replied, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

Kurt didn't say anything for a while. Then, "It's notyou. I just have trouble really trusting anybody. It usually bites me in the ass. And not in the way that I like," he said with a wink, making reference to Blaine's harsh comment from earlier that day, and causing Blaine to blush scarlet.

"I didn't really mean that, earlier. I know I said I'm sorry but I hope you believe me."

"I believe you. And like I said, I've had much worse. I can tell you're not really homophobic. If you were, you wouldn't be here right now. Or maybe you're just trying to get some sort of dirt on me, get close to me, so you can hurt me later. But if that were the case, I'd have to warn you right now that no one fucks around with Kurt Hummel. Used to be, I'd just let people walk all over me. But I've grown up a lot since then and most people know better now than to try something with me." He looked Blaine up and down, his words semi-playful, but still defensive again. "I will fuck your life up."

"Dude. What in the hell happened to you to make you so hard around the edges?"

Kurt's face was expressionless but his eyes were cold when they met Blaine's and Blaine instantly knew he'd said the wrong thing. He wished he hadn't opened his mouth.

"You don't want to know," Kurt said, leaning in to whisper threateningly. "It would give you nightmares."

Blaine knew he was supposed to be intimidated-and he was- but his head was also swimming, because he had just felt Kurt's breath, hot on his face, smelled him, lemony and minty and clean, had seen those eyes close up once again, blue like ice, but then almost green, and so full of light, even when they were hard and closed off.

"Let's take the attention off of me," Kurt said when he realized Blaine wasn't going to say anything. "And put it back on you. That's where it belongs after all, isn't it?"

"Would you believe me if I said I hated attention?" Blaine asked, finally regaining his senses.

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet." Blaine noticed then that somehow, he and Kurt had closed the gap between them so that only a few inches remained now. God, Kurt's jeans were so tight. Blaine could easily make out the bulge of his crotch that he had noticed earlier, only now, so close to him, it seemed even more prominent. He had the inexplicable urge to reach out and grab it. He wished...

The doorbell rang and Blaine heard a sharp whistle overhead as someone stepped inside. Blaine took a second to wonder if Kurt had noticed him staring at his crotch before a voice grabbed his attention.

"Kurt!"

"Ah, fuck." Kurt muttered, a look of realization dawning on his face. "Hold on one second." He bounded up the stairs and Blaine couldn't stop himself from watching the way his ass moved as he walked. He also couldn't stop himself from catching what Kurt was saying to the stranger upstairs.

"I thought I told you to use the downstairs door."

"Yeah but your dad's car wasn't here, so I figured it'd be fine. The door was open a little crack."

"Jesus. This is what I get for telling you could come over to my house. Fine. I was hanging out with a friend..."

A friend? Kurt was calling him his friend now? Blaine couldn't help that his heart did a little dance for joy against his ribcage.

"Baby, we had plans. You told me to show up at 5 o'clock."

Baby?What was this- did Kurt have some kind of boyfriend?

"Yeah well my life doesn't fucking revolve around you okay? God, the things I have to put up with to get a good lay these days. Come on, I'll send him home."

Blaine heard two sets of footsteps descending the stairs to the basement, but he didn't stick around to be "sent home." Instead, he quickly slipped out of the door in the corner of the room, shutting it quietly behind him and jogging lightly around front before realizing with a groan that he had left his skateboard leaning against the stairs to Kurt's bedroom.

He noted with some disgust the fancy-looking red car that was now occupying the driveway and decided that there was no way he was going back in there. It looked like he would be walking home.