By the end of January, sharing a room with Blaine turned out to be heaven and hell in equal parts. Blaine was everything Kurt ever wanted in a roommate: tidy, punctual, patient. He was also everything he ever wanted in a boyfriend: charming, honest, supportive and (Kurt would never admit it out loud) incredibly sexy. One second he’d be fussing with Pavarotti, trying to out-chirp the poor bird, his behavior adorably sweet. And the other he’d come out of the shower in his towel, with his hair all messy, curly and dripping onto his shoulders and from there descending slowly on a very exposed and very naked torso, and start obliviously looking for a pair of sweatpants. Kurt seriously considered pre-ordering a grave with “died of sexual frustration” carved on it.

Before transferring to Dalton, Kurt never thought that masturbation would be something he’d be missing so much. He never had any particular craving to fulfill himself that way. He would never gush about boys, not even to his girl friends, and though he sometimes couldn’t help thinking of them that way, dirty thoughts very rarely brought him satisfaction. He considered it something unavoidable and slightly shameful, done under covers, quickly and with the lights off.

But now his need to touch himself grew more desperate with every single day. From that time when he first came to thoughts of Blaine, he’d gradually progressed to accept and open that part of himself. He didn’t feel dirty anymore, only terribly embarrassed. Blaine seemed to be everything he thought of lately, everything he wanted so much. He wasn’t doing any harm by blowing off some steam every now and then, was he?

The hardest task was finding a suitable place. Anywhere in the room would appear like infringement of the unspoken roommate agreement, the one about not-masturbating-to-thoughts –of-your-roommate, especially when he sleeps 5 feet away from you. Kurt wouldn’t do anything that gave away his secret thoughts to Blaine. No, thank you.

He showered in the evenings and by then the pressure of school assignments and tiredness of all the dancing and singing in Warbler practice, homesickness and the constant fear of being too obvious to Blaine were all becoming too much, and his only desire was to collapse and sleep for days. Plus, Blaine’s products were all in there, judging him silently. What if Blaine’s hair-gel could talk to Blaine, and would tell him all about Kurt’s new hobby… Maybe Kurt really was going crazy.

So generally he waited for the weekends to come around, so he could masturbate peacefully in the safety of his own bedroom. By the time he could lock the door and lay under the covers, his insides were buzzing with anticipation, excitement and unfulfilled desires of a whole week. Kurt would slowly peel his clothes off and attempt to take his time. He wanted this to last as long as possible, drag out as much pleasure as he could. He would be imagining the pressure of Blaine’s body on top of his, his wandering hands caressing him everywhere, touching, rubbing, claiming. He would stroke himself slowly, stilling his slicked hand with enormous effort, as his neglected cock throbbed and leaked precome on his belly. He conjured images of Blaine’s lips and tongue kissing him slowly, savoring his skin inch by inch, leaving a trail of hickeys behind. He recalled Blaine’s melodic voice that often made him shiver, fantasized about it being lower and more harsh, whispering words of love and lust in his ears. Hips bucking frantically, hand moving on its own accord now, he couldn’t tease himself anymore. Muscles spasming deliciously, he would come with a muffled moan and a single name on his lips. Afterwards he would often kick the covers away and lay naked on the bed, covered in come, glorious and divine, secretly enjoying his body being exposed like that. He waited for his breath to normalize and listened to his heartbeat subdue before finally falling asleep.

One week before Valentine’s Day, Kurt noticed Blaine’s behavior change to progressively nervous and clumsy. He has spent a few afternoons away from Dalton, without telling Kurt about his intentions. He secretly hoped that Blaine was preparing some grand gesture to confess his undying love. To avoid the persuasion of using the empty room to fulfill one of his currently constant physical needs, Kurt spent all his free time in the library, reading and studying.

That day he couldn’t concentrate. He caught himself doodling his and Blaine’s initials and silly hearts, than reread the same page of the textbook over and over again, without understanding a single sentence. He couldn’t take it anymore. The anticipation made him dizzy and anxious. The text diffused into illegible letters and he thought he might as well be reading something in Chinese with the same progress. He closed the book and thought about going to take a nap. It would certainly refresh him.

He returned to their room, and carelessly pushed the door open. He definitely wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him. Blaine was there, convulsing on the bed, frantically pumping his red curving cock, sweatpants pushed down to mid-thigh, making wanton noises of pleasure, his forehead and chest glistening with sweat.

Kurt froze. His brain froze. His heart froze.

Blaine’s hand froze too. As much as you can freeze when you’re about to reach climax.

Their eyes met, and Kurt’s stomach flipped as he saw that Blaine’s hazel eyes have turned black. They were full of desire, not a hint of shame in them.

And then Kurt slammed the door shut and ran outside, out of the room, out of the hallway, out of the dormitory, away from Blaine’s lusty gaze. He found his car in the parking lot and scrambled into the driving seat, embracing his head with both hands on the steering wheel.

Embarrassment bubbled under his skin. His brain was making him replay the event over and over in his head, his face on fire and legs trembling. Why did he leave the library? Why wasn’t the door locked? Why must it have happened before Valentine’s? He had never seen Blaine so disheveled, animalistic and out of control. Well, he had never seen him mostly naked either.

‘Oh my god, I’ve seen his cock.’ The cock that has always been there. The cock that Blaine touches when he jerks off. The cock he wouldn’t mind touching too. Kurt needed a bucket of ice water or just a forceful slap. He shouldn’t think of any cock, especially his best friend’s and roommate’s cock. And he should stop repeating the damn word!

He took a deep breath and tried to block the image that kept popping in his brain. Sitting in the car was starting to feel cold and frankly quite pointless. Blaine is humiliated now, for sure. He’d better return to their room and tell him how sorry he is and then shut up for the rest of his life. Act like nothing happened. Blaine surely won’t be the one to remind him about the incident in the future.

Kurt hastily returned back to their room, hoping that the faster he would talk to Blaine, the faster he could forget this happened. He knocked three times.

- Come in, - shouted Blaine in a flustered tone.

He’d been obviously pacing the room back and forth, thankfully dressed now. Kurt didn’t look him in the eye when he rambled the apology he’d been practicing in his head.

- Blaine, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I’m terribly embarrassed…

- No, Kurt, I’m the one embarrassed. I hope you still want to be my roommate?

Kurt’s wide eyes met Blaine’s sad and pleading.

- Of course I want to be your roommate. You’re my best friend, - Kurt replied, incredulous this was what has been bothering Blaine.

- Thank god, I thought I’ve ruined everything, - Blaine let out a nervous laugh and played with the hem of his shirt.

- This is incredibly awkward, - Kurt uttered with a hint of a smile.

- Yes it is. Why don’t we just watch a movie or something, and forget about this?

While Blaine was excessively gesticulating and talking about everything and nothing in particular, desperate to alleviate the tension, Kurt settled on Blaine’s bed. Watching movies together was something that Kurt loved immensely, not only because discussing them with Blaine was always interesting and amusing, but also because they could sit side by side and sometimes even cuddle a little, blaming it afterwards on the sleepiness.

Blaine crawled on the bed beside Kurt and adjusted the laptop. Kurt was blankly staring at the screen, his mind elsewhere. With every nerve of his body he felt his side being pressed to Blaine’s, attached from shoulder to hip. Blaine’s body was warm and firm, his breath deep and slow.  After about five minutes, the unusual silence has started to get on Kurt’s nerves and he shifted a little.

- I’m sorry this… this happened, Kurt, - started Blaine all of a sudden in a barely audible voice. His eyes were fixed on the movie, but he wasn’t watching it either, - I usually try to control myself. This won’t happen again, I promise. I’m just a little bit nervous about something.

- What are you nervous about? – Kurt’s voice was close to a murmur. He didn’t want to speak up, because it may startle the magical moment he awaited for so long.

Blaine suddenly looked at Kurt and smiled sheepishly.

- Remember how I told you about singing to someone on Valentine’s Day? I’m totally going to do that, no matter what.

He took Kurt’s hand, something he did often, but only with very close friends. Kurt thought that it meant that Blaine received very little physical comfort from his parents, and trapped in his Dalton uniform he sometimes forgot he was still a boy that needed support.

Kurt suddenly realized that there is so much he doesn’t even know about Blaine. Idolizing his every step wouldn’t help Kurt discover the real Blaine. His flaws and insecurities, his fears and desires, Kurt wanted to be the one Blaine could trust with anything. In that very moment Blaine gently slipped his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt felt so close to him in that moment, the closest he’s ever been.