Chapter 2

There was a pause; a tiny moment when the only movement was the gently evaporating steam as it curled towards the open door. There was the smooth expanse of pale, porcelain skin, almost translucent in the distorted haze of the steam. There was the slightly frantic scrabbling for a towel clutched at the clearly naked lower half of the stranger's body. There was the mouth pursed somewhere between indignation and horror amidst the high cheekbones and almost elfin features.

But none of this registered with Blaine in that tiny pause. The only thing he connected to, that drew his breath out of his throat in a strangled gasp was the eyes. Vivid, pale, startlingly bright eyes that stared at him with an intensity he'd never felt before; that made him feel naked, vulnerable, exposed.

And then the tiny moment was over.

"Who the fuck are you!"

Blaine blinked for a moment thinking the expletive had come from him but instead found himself staring, open mouthed at his intruder who stood, hand on hip having summoned all the indignation that Blaine had himself failed to muster.

"You just going to stand and stare or are you going to get the fuck out of my bathroom?!"

With the last furious exhale of breath, the stranger shoved his hand at Blaine's chest, propelling him backwards through the door and slamming the wood in his face.

Like a guppy, Blaine stood, mouth opening and closing in an attempt to form words through his blinding rage.  How dare he? HIS bathroom! This was a whole new strain of breaking and entering that Blaine had obviously missed the memo on.

He knew he should be cautious, arm himself against his clearly insane assailant, but he couldn't see past his seething anger. His fists clenched as he pummelled the door. Angry Blaine had finally been unleashed and he thought back to his Dalton fight club days as he pounded on the wood.

"You get the fuck out of there now! Who the hell do you think you are? I've got a 9 and a 1 already dialled into my phone and my finger's dangerously close to hitting another one if you don't get the hell out of my bathroom!"

"I didn't realise burglars called for their own arrest these days, must be a new public service I've not been made aware of."

The voice screamed back at him dripping with sass. Blaine scrunched his face up and willed himself to calm down. Something was definitely not right here; even aside from the whole gorgeous, singing intruder in his shower part. My apartment. Why did he keep saying 'my apartment'? Gathering his slightly calmer breath and realising a new approach might be necessary Blaine lowered his voice a fraction.

"Look why don't you come out here to talk to me face to face. I think you might be a bit confused and I promise I won't hurt you" despite the thick door between them, Blaine raised his hands in a motion of surrender.   

"Oh and I'm supposed to trust the guy who broke into my apartment and then pervs on me in the shower. Well of course, I'm just dying to sit down. Go put the kettle on. Let's chat!"

The sarcasm dripped under the firmly shut door but Blaine could detect a hint of a quiver in the voice giving away the underlying fear in the stranger's retort. Blaine leant against the frame and suddenly felt an ache of pity for the clearly deluded man in his bathroom.

"Please. I think there's been a misunderstanding. Can we just talk?"

"How did you even get in here?" the voice was still hard. Still searching for answers. Reassurance. He paused,

 "I have a key." Blaine sighed." I live here..... I moved in today."

Silence greeted Blaine's response and he reached his fingers out to slide down the wood gently before the door was abruptly wrenched opened from the other side and Blaine was staring into those eyes once again.

Still wearing only a towel, secured a little more tightly around his hips now, the intruder moved purposefully past Blaine towards his wardrobe and flung the doors open, rooting around.

"What have you done with all my clothes? You better not have chucked anything out, that stuff is priceless. Where's my Alexander McQueen shirt? Where's everything"

Blaine found himself staring once again. The intruder seemed to have totally ignored his previous comment and although Blaine knew he should be angry at watching him root through his closet, instead he found his eyes trained on the movement of the muscles in his back and his narrow waist above the towel and the droplet of water that was running a path down the alabaster indentations of his spine. He shook himself. Now was NOT the time to be thinking things like that!

The stranger seemed to have slowed in his frantic rifling through the wardrobe and Blaine watched him falter for a second and then turn around to stare searchingly at Blaine.

 "Where is everything?" he said again, almost pleading for answers, something to make sense.

Blaine moved towards him gently and reached for his own dressing gown off the back of the door. He held it out to him in a silent peace offering all the while keeping steady eye contact so as not to spook him. The stranger darted his eyes around the room one last time, as if for the first time noticing all of Blaine's new things scattered around in boxes, picture frames that dotted the walls and sheet music strewn across the floor. His eyes lighted on the acoustic guitar in the corner and that seemed to be the final decider. He reached for the robe as his eyes filled with tears, and looking down, shrugged it on to his shoulders.

 "This doesn't make any sense" he said resignedly, sinking down onto the edge of the bed and hanging his head. Blaine crouched down beside him and touched his fingers lightly to the man's clasped hands.

 "Why don't you tell me your name and we can start to unravel this." he spoke softly, cautious not to spook the other man. The stranger looked up and met his gaze unnervingly.

"Kurt. My names Kurt Hummel" he whispered. All the previous fight seemed to have evaporated out of him along with the steam from the bathroom and now he just looked frightened and vulnerable. Blaine smiled gently at him in encouragement.

 "Ok Kurt. Good. Well I'm Blaine. Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand in an over the top display of chivalry which was intended to lighten the mood. Kurt smiled briefly and took his hand in a half-hearted response, then dropped it immediately.

"Kurt can you tell me why you thought this was your house. Did you used to live here or something?" Blaine spoke softly, ever careful not to alienate the other man who was looking even more lost and frightened as the moments passed.

"I DO live here." he said although lacking the conviction of his earlier indignation. "I've lived here for 2 years. I bought the place with inheritance money my mother had left me. I've always lived here. Ever since college. I know this house. I know it."

 Blaine moved to say something; to interrupt the torrent of words spilling out of the other man's trembling lips but Kurt carried on, eyes darting around the room desperately.

 "I know this place." He repeated. "There's a hole in the bathroom wall behind the mirror from when my dad tried slipped with the hammer. There's a coffee cup stain on the table in the living room from when my brother Finn forgot to use a coaster. There's a creaking floorboard in the entrance hall, three boards in from the door. I know this place. It's my home." He spoke pleadingly, as if convincing himself rather than Blaine and the effort of it all seemed to take all the remaining fight out of him. He stared mutely at his hands after his outpouring.

Blaine could only stare open mouthed. None of this made sense. This guy clearly had lived here at one point, Blaine had already noticed all of those things Kurt had mentioned, in the few hours he'd been in residence. Kurt didn't seem crazy. He appeared sad. Lost. It seemed odd Blaine thought, how much he wanted to reach out to him; how little he was scared of this unknown man discovered in his shower.

"I moved in today. My realtor Eddie Monroe sublet this place to me saying the current owner was in hospital. Maybe he's been scamming us both....?" Blaine offered.

Kurt's face suddenly turned an even whiter shade of pale, his eyes shot up to meet Blaine's and he grabbed his hand.

 "What? What did you say?"

Blaine stumbled slightly on his haunches at the intensity with which Kurt gripped his hands.

 "I ..I said I was let the apartment today"

"Not that bit. " Kurt interrupted. "The bit about the previous occupant"

"The poor guy was in a car accident. He's in a coma apparently and his families sublet the place to me. That's what I was told by Eddie but he must have been messing coz that doesn't make any sense with what you've told me..."

 He trailed off, looking at Kurt's crumpled facial expression. His eyes had clouded with tears again and this time he didn't seem to make any attempt to hide them as one trickled slowly down his cheek. He was frozen; suspended in some insular moment as if remembering some incident in time. He seemed totally separate from the bedroom, from Blaine.

"What is it? Kurt? Are you ok?" Blaine reached out and watched, with surprise, as his own fingers trailed down the broken face in front of him. "Tell me what's going on." he said gently. Kurt locked eyes with him for a moment,

 "I remember it" he whispered.

"Remember what" Blaine looked quizzically at him. None of this was making any sense.

"The accident" Kurt breathed. "I remember the car accident"