Blaine's curled up on his bed, his face pressed into the pillows. "I'll never be able to go into a GAP again."

Kurt takes a seat next to Blaine, idly placing a hand on his shoulder. His feelings for Blaine have changed a lot in a short timespan, but even though he's totally-mostly-sorta over Blaine, he gets a sort of sick pleasure from watching him get turned down. Maybe it makes him a bad person-no, it definitely does,-but he can't stop feeling that way.

It's funny, he thinks to himself. Only a week ago, he would give anything to be in this situation; sitting on Blaine's bed, comforting him. Hell, he was so smitten he could barely look at it. But he sees now how naive he was. He had built Blaine up so much in his mind, bought into his confident exterior, and fell hard. Blaine's not perfect. He doesn't have all the answers, and he doesn't always say the right things, today being a prime example. Blaine's just a boy, Kurt sees it now. Just a boy who watches bad porn and sings inappropriate songs in public settings to guys he's not dating. He's always going to want Blaine; he's smart and so nice and talented and beautiful, but at least now he doesn't feel like he needs him anymore.

"Well then," Kurt says brightly, "something good came out of this after all."

Blaine turns his head and weakly smiles at Kurt. He'll get over this whole fiasco soon enough, Kurt knows. He just needs to be distracted. Kurt wants to rib Blaine about the TV still hanging on the wall (obviously Blaine had ignored Kurt's speech on the detrimental effects of having it in his room), but he doesn't want to ruffle Blaine's feathers in this state. He goes for a neutral topic.

"You never mentioned you played polo."

There's a flicker of something behind Blaine's eyes, but it's gone before Kurt can place it.

"It's a long story."

Kurt presses. Watching Blaine suffer, while perversely satisfying, is also starting to get depressing. "I have time."

Blaine bites his lip, looking deep in thought, and Kurt suddenly realizes he's not in for the light-hearted tale he expected. He regrets asking now, but Blaine's sitting up, resting against the headboard and picking at lint on his uniform slacks.

"My parents belonged to a country club just outside of Columbus," Blaine starts nervously, "for people with more money than they know what to do with. It's almost obscene.
"Anyways, they have stables there, and whenever I was forced to tag along with them, that was my favourite place to go. So they signed me up for horseback riding lessons. I guess I would have been 8, at the time. The instructor said I was a natural, and wanted me to consider joining the polo league. I wasn't really into the idea. I loved riding horses, but I didn't really like the other kids at the club. In the end, I only agreed to it because my parents offered to buy me my own horse."

Kurt nods as Blaine tucks his legs into his chest. He often forgets that Blaine is shorter than him because his personality seems to add inches to his stature, but right now, it's never been so apparent.

"I played until I was 14." He continues. "I didn't make one friend that entire time, but I enjoyed the game enough that it didn't really bother me. They were obnoxious and rude, and when they found out I was gay…" he stalls for a moment. "They weren't impressed. A few of them got together one night and… well, the next day, my dad was on the phone with Dalton, getting my transfer in order."

Kurt wonders what happened, but he doesn't press for more information. Instead, he crawls up next to Blaine, letting the boy lean his weight against him. He doesn't know what to say, but he hopes this will be enough. For a moment, Blaine just breathes, deep inhales that raise his shoulders and expand his chest, and long exhales that tickle Kurt's neck. He's told his closest friends at Dalton this story, but it's different with Kurt. This is the first time someone's really understood what he was going through. David and Wes were always comforting, always empathizing, but Kurt gets it. Blaine doesn't always want someone to clap his shoulder and tell him it'll get better, or that he's amongst friends. Sometimes he just wants a warm body next to his that will let him flounder in his misery for a minute. Unconsciously, he grab's Kurt's hand in his own and clutches tight. Kurt squeezes back.

"I never went back," Blaine finally says. "My parents sold my horse and cancelled their membership right away. That's when my dad bought the old car. He said real men work with their hands. He started taking me to football games as well, which I enjoyed a lot more than I expected to…"

It sounds like he has more to say, but after a minute or so of silence Kurt realizes Blaine's done his story.

Kurt could kick himself right now. He just wanted to distract Blaine from this afternoon's GAP-Attack (which, he supposes, he did), not submerge him under waves of bad memories. He's afraid to ask anymore questions, incase he unwittingly opens another Pandora's Box buried deep within Blaine. So he sits still, running his thumb over Blaine's knuckles and being there. Like he always will be.

Finally, Blaine begins to stir. He lifts his face from Kurt's shoulder and reclaims his hand. He doesn't say anything, but his half smile and slightly quirked eyebrow speaks for him. Thank you. Kurt shuffles off the bed and grabs his coat, then throws Blaine's to him. The time for moping is over, he's decided.

"Let's go get coffee."