July 17th, 1941

The 1940’s were a horrible time to be different.

While women had gotten the vote in 1920, black men and women alike were often restricted from voting by the poll tax, literacy laws, threats, intimidation and often, outright violence. To be anything other than a white male, (within a certain religious bracket to boot) would mean that certain things would simply be harder for you. Procuring steady employment, admittance to the military, good social standing and fundamental freedoms were usually only guaranteed to any man who fit this small percentage.

At least the battle for the rights of women, blacks and other racial demographics, Jews, Muslims and oriental religions raged on. The First World War had helped cracks to widen in many social divides in Europe, but change across the world was slow. Even more slow for one social issue that was still classified as sodomy in America and was a punishable criminal offense.

The term homosexual was first published in a major literary publication in 1926, by The New York Times. The 1930’s and 40’s saw a flurry of countries decriminalizing homosexuality, but it wasn’t until 1961 that Illinois became the first American state to remove sodomy from its criminal code. For a long time, this small, but definitely present, percentage of the population of America were simply forced to hide their secret, for fear of criminal charges, expulsion from society and exclusion from job opportunities.

So when Kurt first saw Mr and Mr Berry kissing through a tiny crack in the curtains, needless to say, he panicked. Every rational thought in his fifteen year old brain screamed for him to run because he was witnessing something illegal, something evil, something unnatural.

And yet, his feet had refused to move. A small weight lifted off his chest and escaped through his throat with a soft gasp and the thought I am not alone.

Then, he had run. Legs pumping, heart flying, adrenaline coursing, he had run. He ran until he reached the edge of a field. A little stone wall ran through the middle of it, until it reached a beautiful oak tree. Settling on the ground between large gnarled roots, Kurt had cried.  He cried because he missed his mother, who’d loved that tree. He cried because he’d felt anxiety and fear whenever he caught himself looking at Finn Hudson, the hulking school quarterback. He cried because this was something that he couldn’t tell his dad, however much he wanted to. He cried because if he had been alone with this situation, he could have ignored it, squashed it, forgotten it existed. Instead, the image of Mr and Mr Berry, Rachel’s supposed father and uncle, smiling softly at each other before embracing, replayed in his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Rachel’s mother had died in childbirth. Her brother, Leroy, had then moved in with Hiram and little Rachel to help raise the tiny girl. The three of them lived on the edge of town, crafting beautiful furniture and rarely venturing far. It was always said that Hiram Berry was so heart-broken over the loss of his beloved Shelby that he couldn’t stand to live alone. His talented daughter, who was so much like her mother in many ways, was his only company, and Hiram couldn’t handle the loss. Thus, Leroy had entered to helped.

That was the story, at least. Kurt knew better.

Becoming friends with Rachel Berry had happened slowly. Their relationship didn’t start out particularly well, mostly with her shoving her large nose in his business and with him imagining creative ways he could kill her and make it look like an accident. Slowly, though, they opened up to each other over the course of high school. Carefully they let their guards down, until they realized they were far more similar than either of them would care to admit. Kurt found they could be friends, if he didn’t listen too attentively whenever Rachel talked.

And now, as Kurt walked down the street, he wished he hadn’t befriended Rachel and her very unsettling home situation. Apart from the two months after he saw her father and uncle embracing, he was able to simply not think about his situation. He wasn’t exactly ignoring it, after all he was only nineteen and he when woke up in the middle of the night, painfully hard, there was just no denying that his dreams had featured broad shoulders and narrow hips. But even in these dreams, the objects of his fantasies remained vague, featureless and almost sexless. Except, if he hadn’t befriended Rachel Berry, he’d never have met anyone with golden eyes and an infectious laugh that had echoed familiarly through his dream the night before. A dream that explored the doors opened by Rachel and her family.

What if… a small, hopeful voice trailed off inside his head.

“Ugh, stop it!” Kurt mumbled angrily at the small voice. It cowered, but by no means disappeared.

“Sorry?” a confused voice asked in front of Kurt. “Stop what?” The small voice in Kurt’s head perked up immediately.

“Oh, Blaine! Good morning,” Kurt smiled. Of course, Blaine Anderson was walking a bicycle across the road. He was the only person within ear shot of Kurt, so obviously he’d assumed that Kurt was talking to him. “You know, those are for riding,” Kurt said, gesturing to the bike, and attempting to fight down the need to flush with embarrassment at having been caught talking to himself.

Blaine looked amazing. A light striped grey cardigan hugged his shoulders, but he’d rolled up the sleeves of it and the white shirt underneath, probably because the day was already on the hot side, and it was only mid-morning.

Blaine smiled. “Thank you for the tip, but one usually needs a bike without a flat tyre before it’s possible to ride it.”

“Ooh, that makes sense. I thought maybe the fireworks last night had dazzled you to the point of dizziness and you were no longer capable of maintaining hand-eye coordination,” Kurt teased. What the hell? Where did that come from? He thought. When did they start having a teasing sort of friendship? No, scrap that. When had they developed any sort of relationship beyond acquaintance?

But Blaine just laughed. “Well, I’d definitely put some stock in that if the fireworks hadn’t begun forty minutes late and then stopped abruptly halfway for no apparent reason.” Blaine stopped laughing and his tone became serious. “I really love fireworks,” he confessed in a hushed voice.

“Oh, Lima, it’s lucky then that you have small town charm on your side.” Kurt laughed, causing Blaine to smile again. Unconsciously, his eyes lingered on Blaine’s, neither boy looking away. The moment lengthened until Blaine tore his gaze away clearing his throat softly.

“Well, I should get to the tyre store,” Blaine said, extending his hand towards Kurt. “I’ll see you around, Kurt.”

“Yeah, see you around, Blaine,” Kurt replied. He slowly took Blaine’s hand in his own. It was larger than his own, and Kurt could feel calluses on Blaine’s fingers. Blaine gripped Kurt’s hand tightly, his thumb trailing softly over the back of Kurt’s hand. The movement left a tingling sensation in its wake, and Kurt wanted to chase the feeling, but suddenly Blaine’s hand was gone. Their eyes locked one last time and then Blaine turned away, retreating down the street.

~~~~~~

“Kurt! KurtKurtKurt! Kuuurt!” Rachel came storming into the shop, way too enthusiastic as usual.

“What’s going on, Rachel? Did Macy finally kick you out for hogging the piano?” Kurt asked, smiling around several clothes pins in his mouth. He was carefully measuring soft cotton, pins leaving his mouth and securing fabric as he went along.

“Are you kidding me? I know she’s threatened to do that, but I have a dedicated audience who only go to her bar and not Joe’s because they like to hear me perform,” Rachel said, placing her hands on her hips. “And anyway, she knows that I need applause to live. She wouldn’t be so cruel as to take that away from me.”

“I don’t know, Rach, you did attempt to sing four songs in a row last Friday. She didn’t seem too pleased,” Kurt replied, letting his measuring tape fall to the floor. He stepped back to survey the summer dress pinned onto the mannequin. “What do you think about this dress?” he asked, stabbing the excess pins into his pin cushion.

“Is your client comfortable with wandering around with her bosoms on display?”

“It’s not that low!”

“Kurt, I have less revealing bras.”

“In that horrible smock, you also have about as much sex appeal as a baby penguin.”

“Ouch, somebody’s in a foul mood,” Rachel frowned, tugging self-consciously at her outfit. Kurt felt a stab of guilt, and berated himself internally. It wasn’t Rachel’s fault that he had been dwelling on his thoughts from earlier all day, nor that she was born without his fantastic sense of personal style.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “It’s just… Mr Philips won’t let me make anything by myself.  You’d swear that a sewing machine was more complicated than fixing a car, and I’ve proven I can do that.” He took a deep breath. His boss probably had some reason for restricting Kurt to alterations and finishing touches, but he was bored. He wanted to create something. By himself. Preferably before he went crazy obsessing over Blaine Anderson.

“Well, it’s a good thing that I came hurtling in here when I did, then. You sound like you need a night out!” Rachel smiled maniacally. Kurt was glad that her emotions had a three-second rebound rate, because he knew he could be a bit of an ass sometimes.

“Oh, right. You sounded like you were about to be named Queen of England. What’s up? Should I be readying myself to be your personal tailor?”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. How much would you charge for something like that?”

“Rachel, focus.”

“Well,” she started, drawing out the ‘l’ sound as if gathering steam. “Finn invited me out to the movies tonight, and at first I got really excited at the prospect of a date, but then he mentioned that Quinn is going to be there as well. So, because showing up by myself would scream desperate charity case, I should probably bring a friend along too,” she said in a rush.

“Aw, thank you, Rach. Your selfless motives almost move me to tears.”

“Look, you know I love you, but right now I need your help showing Quinn Fabray that I’m not that unpopular, annoyingly-loud Jewish girl from high school anymore. Come on, Kurt. What are friends for, if not to help you seem cooler?”

“God bless you and your twisted sense of logic, Rachel Berry… Of course I’ll go with you. But… why is Finn even bringing Quinn along?” Kurt asked. He slowly started writing down details for the dress he’d pinned in place. With any luck, he’d be able to make a decent pattern for it and keep it for a day when he was finally allowed to create his own dress for Mr Philips.

“To torture me, I’m sure.” Rachel said, rolling her eyes.

“Drama queen.”

“And proud.”

~~~~~~

Kurt smoothed down his perfectly tailored waistcoat as he walked down the street leading to the movie theatre. He could already see the lights of the big display, announcing that Lil’ Abner was still playing. His hair looked absolutely dismal after a day spent inside the sweltering shop, so he’d carefully brushed it back and stuck it under a cap. It wasn’t like the movie theatre was place to dress up for anyway.

“Rachel! Hey!” He called, spotting her standing just off the curb, as other people bustled around, buying tickets, heading inside or simply moving past to the restaurants set a little further down the street.

“Hello! The others are already queuing for popcorn. Come on.” Rachel said, leading the way inside.

“Am I late?” Kurt asked.

“No, it just turns out we’re a bigger party than I thought and we wanted to get seats together…” Rachel mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

“A bigger party than you thought? Rach, I thought it was just You, Me, Finn and Quinn?” Kurt said.  Ugh, he groaned internally, I really don’t feel like sitting with a million people who are going to talk through the entire movie and my hair looks like a mess.

“Well, it turns out that Quinn found a date by herself. And then another date decided to cash in on a promise and… well, yeah. Here we are.” Rachel gestured to a group of people who were standing next to the queue for the concession stand; most of them looking like there was a very large elephant in the room, and already clutching buckets of popcorn.

“You found him!” Finn said by way of greeting, kissing Rachel on the temple. He looked at Kurt gratefully for a second, as if silently trying to congratulate him for showing up right on time.

“Good evening… everyone,” Kurt said, his eyes drifting around the group.

Quinn stood just to the left of Finn, with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. The source of her annoyance was unclear for a moment, until Kurt saw Blaine, standing awkwardly behind Finn with none other than Puck, between him and Quinn.

“Good evening, Kurt,” Quinn said, stepping forward. She kept herself firmly turned away from Puck, who was trying to sneak his arm around her shoulder.

“Kurt!” Blaine said with a smile. His eyes seemed to sparkle a little brighter as he walked around Puck to stand next to Kurt. Or maybe that was Kurt’s desperate imagination. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Kurt said smiling. “Work-filled. How about yours? Did you manage to get that tyre fixed?”

“Yeah, it took less than an hour actually. I spent the day biking around Lima’s limited downtown,” Blaine said.

“Sounds thrilling. How did you ever tear yourself away from such an enthralling experience to join us for something so mundane as a movie?” The lightness of their conversation swelled like a balloon in Kurt’s chest. It was so easy to just talk to Blaine.

“Well, my mother always says that it’s rude to say no to an invitation from a pretty girl, so when Quinn phoned the house earlier, I couldn’t refuse.” The balloon popped.

“Oh, of course,” Kurt said.

“What I wasn’t expecting, of course, was for a certain cretin to claim his idiotic promise tonight,” Quinn said firmly, glaring at Puck.

“No, problemo, good lady,” Puck said, “I was only too happy to learn that I’d be saving you from such tedious company.” Puck glanced over at Blaine, who shook his head at Puck’s alpha-male attitude.

“Well, this has been delightfully awkward,” Rachel interrupted. “But the movie is about to start, so everybody grab your refreshments and let’s go.”

She and Finn led the way into the theatre. Quinn sighed and hoisted her bag higher up her shoulder, clutching her popcorn closer to her chest. Blaine made as if to follow her, but Puck quickly jumped into action, ensuring the seat next to her. Blaine grinned slightly, watching Puck’s antics with an emotion Kurt couldn’t quite place. He smiled and gestured for Kurt to proceed into the theatre first.

“He really doesn’t have to try so hard,” Blaine whispered to Kurt as they filed along a row of seats.

“What?” Kurt asked, settling into his seat.

“Puck. He has nothing to worry about. It’s obvious Quinn likes him. It’s expected that girls like Quinn have to marry into a nice rich family, but that doesn’t mean she can’t like anyone else.”

The movie theatre darkened suddenly, which was probably to Kurt’s advantage as he was staring at Blaine with his mouth slightly open. Did he really not care that he was being passed over for someone like Puck? Quinn was beautiful, how was he taking this so calmly?

Kurt was spared having to organise his thoughts into some sort of coherent reply, when a flickering report about the progress of the war in Europe started. Amidst shots of flying planes and marching troops, smiling British pilots and busy factories, a horribly enthusiastic voice over urged the audience to buy war bonds. It was nothing new. All of the newspapers and advertisements around Lima were littered with pleas to help the Allies against Hitler’s steady march across Europe, but it still felt strangely unreal to Kurt. He couldn’t merge the horrifying war poetry he had read with the chiselled smiles of the men on screen. He could only pray that it ended soon.

When the actual movie started, Finn and Rachel, who sat on his far left, quickly abandoned all pretence of watching the film, and used the darkened theatre to their advantage instead. In the middle of their group, Puck kept sneaking his arm around Quinn’s shoulders. The blond girl made a show of being annoyed, but Kurt now got the feeling that Quinn secretly enjoyed the attention. Puck was confident in a way that very few men were, and he didn’t simply give up when she shook his arm off of her shoulders with an exasperated smile. Instead he coughed a little to hide laughter and tried again.

The most distracting part, however, was not the footage of waving soldiers playing on loop in Kurt’s mind, the crazy antics of Puck, or even the very disturbing slurping noises that Finn and Rachel were making.

On Kurt’s right, sat Blaine. He was leaning with his arm on the armrest that he shared with Kurt and staring intently at the screen. Kurt’s breathing sounded loud in his own ears as he tried to calm his racing pulse. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and brush his fingers along Blaine’s; to see if that same prickly feeling from their handshake earlier would return. He contemplated Blaine - a gentleman, obviously, well-bred, and, other than the fact that he had a strange love for sweater vests and hair product, he was a complete mystery to Kurt. Kurt wanted to shift in his seat until his shoulder bumped into Blaine’s and until their arms were lined up. Instead, he kept his arms crossed and shifting his weight away, refusing to move, long after his left butt-cheek fell asleep.

There was a smattering of applause that finally tore Kurt out of his fixation with the arm only three inches away from his own. He blinked rapidly as the lights came on and people started talking again. Had he really just spent over an hour quietly obsessed with an arm and the boy attached to it?

“Well, that was a great movie,” Finn said loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, I’m sure the tonsil tennis with Rachel only enhanced the comedic timing,” Kurt said snarkily.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rachel said innocently as they stepped into the lobby and started making their way to the exit. Her angelic smile was completely ruined by the fact that her hair was rumpled and skew.

“Come on, Q, I’ll give you a ride home,” Puck said, reaching out to take Quinn’s hand. She swatted it away, but smiled at him.

“Very well, if Blaine doesn’t mind,” Quinn said, looking over at Blaine.

“Not in the slightest,” Blaine smiled, charmingly. Kurt couldn’t help but wonder if he really didn’t care, or if he was simply being polite. He really didn’t know anything about him.

“Come on, Kurt. You can have a lift with me and Rach.” Finn said. “We can drop you off, too, if you want, Blaine.”

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude like that,” Blaine started to say, shaking his head slightly.

“How about we walk?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Kurt wanted to punch himself in the face. Repeatedly. Who offers to walk a guy home?

Blaine’s reply almost knocked him over. “That’d be great,” he said, smiling brightly. “It’s dark… I could get lost.” Kurt’s returning smile was slight and unsure.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” Finn’s voice trailed off, his sense of chivalry obviously warring with his desire to take off, alone, with Rachel.

“Yeah, it’s a nice night,” Kurt supplied. He shook Puck’s hand goodbye and hugged Rachel tightly before she jumped into the car with Finn.

“See you later,” he called after Finn. “Don’t come home too late!” He shook his head as his step-brother sped off in completely the wrong direction for home.

Kurt turned and suddenly he was face to face with Blaine. Blaine had a nervous-looking smile in place, and his eyes sparkled with some unnamed emotion when suddenly he shook his head a little.

“This is not exactly how I thought tonight would go,” he said.

“Oh, shi-. I mean, of course you’d expected to be going home with Quinn right about now—and then I just assumed that—I should have thought—“

“Kurt,” Blaine cut him off. His tongue emphasising the “t” on the end of Kurt’s name. “I’m glad you offered to walk with me.”

“Oh.” Smooth, you idiot.

They started off down the street, heading for the edge of town where Blaine’s family was renting a large old townhouse. They walked side by side, quickly making their way past the busier centre of town until they found themselves completely alone, wandering down the large main street that ran through Lima.

“That was fun,” Blaine said, breaking the silence.

“It was?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah… I haven’t seen a movie in ages.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” Blaine dug his hands into his pockets and sighed a little. “Not since I was a little kid.”

Kurt laughed, a little shocked. “What?”

“Nope,” Blaine shrugged. “I’m busy, you know… I don’t have a lot of time.”

“You’re busy?” Kurt knew he sounded sceptical.

“Yep, I have a very strict schedule. My days are all planned out. I get up in the morning, breakfast, math tutor, Latin tutor, lunch. Then tennis lesson or science lesson—sometimes both, French lesson, history lesson and then I eat dinner and spend some time with my family. After that I… catch up with some reading.” Blaine recited this slowly, going through his days in his head.

Kurt couldn’t help but gape at Blaine a little bit. “Wow.” He managed after a moment. He turned and walked backwards so that he could face Blaine. “That sounds like the road to success.”

“Mmm, you bet,” Blaine nodded. “I’m applying to all these colleges; Yale, Columbia, Harvard. Those are the ones that we want.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“What?”

“You just said, ‘those are the ones that we want.’ Who’s ‘we’?”

“Oh. Well, my mother and father. We decide everything together.”

“Everything?” Kurt knew his tone was slightly mocking and he saw Blaine get a little defensive.

“No, not everything,” he emphasized. “But the important things.”

“And everything else you get to decide all by yourself?” Kurt teased.

“Don’t be rude,” Blaine smiled, he punch Kurt playfully on the arm. It wasn’t exactly the sweet tingling sensation Kurt had been imagining.

Kurt laughed a little. “Well, I’m sorry,” he said, letting his voice trail off. He cocked his head at Blaine. “I’m just trying to figure out what you do for fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I don’t know—like all those things you mentioned. Those are all things you do because you have to do them, right? So, what do you do because you want to?” Kurt stepped around Blaine, twirling until he was walking right way round again.

“…I just told you?” Blaine said. He sounded slightly confused, as if the thought had never really crossed his mind.

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied sceptically. He was unconvinced that Blaine even knew the answer. Kurt had specifically quit his job in his father’s automobile garage so that he could do what he wanted to: sew. How had Blaine never even thought about it before? “Huh. I guess I was wrong.”

“Wrong? About what?” Blaine asked.

“I guess I just figured that you were… I don’t know…” Kurt struggled to find his words.

“What, Kurt?”

“Free.”

“What?”

“Free.”

Blaine stopped walking and looked at Kurt, his eyes guarded.

“I am free...” he said slowly.

“You don’t seem like it,” Kurt said.

“Well, I am.” Blaine said, shrugging.

“Hm,” Kurt considered the boy standing before him. The boy with the beautiful eyes, that caused him to feel things that he really shouldn’t be feeling. Kurt wanted those eyes to be happy.

“Come here. I want to show you something,” he said, leaving the sidewalk and strolling to the middle of the street.

“Kurt, what are you doing?” Blaine asked, looking up and down the intersection.

“Just come on,” Kurt said coming to a stop, facing the currently green streetlight.

“You’re gonna get run over,” Blaine said, not moving away from the sidewalk. He sounded suddenly nervous.

“By all the cars?” Kurt asked, gesturing to the empty streets. Towns like Lima didn’t have much traffic, even at midday. He tugged his jacket off his shoulders and spread it on the street, sitting down on it gently, and then laying back, his left arm tucking under his head.

Blaine moved slowly towards him. He had the strangest look of disbelief on his face.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“My dad and I used to come out here,” Kurt said after a moment. “We started coming shortly after my mom died. We would lie down and watch the lights change… going from green to red to yellow…” Kurt smiled as memories came flooding back to him. “You could try it, you know? If you want to.”

Blaine shook his head, walking in a small circle. “No, thank you.”

“Why not?”

“Because… I don’t know—would you just get up?”

“That’s your problem, you know that? You don’t do what you want to,” Kurt said firmly, not knowing where his sudden need to be honest with this boy came from.

Blaine narrowed his eyes slightly before turning to look down the street. He seemed to decide something suddenly because then he said, “Okay,” before lying down next to Kurt. The light changed to yellow. Several heartbeats passed in silence and then he asked, “What happens if a car comes?”

“We die.”

“What?” Blaine yelped, his head turning to look at Kurt, who gave a short bark of laughter.

“Just relax. Trust me,” Kurt looked at Blaine and they shared a small smile before looking back at the lights.

Slowly they turned red and then green again. Kurt’s mind wandered as he lay next to Blaine. Thoughts of his father and then his mother drifted past. And then he started thinking about how much he wanted to take Blaine’s hand again. He squeezed his eyes shut and started counting to ten. When he got to seven, Blaine’s hesitant voice broke his rhythm.

“Music,” he said.

“Hmm?” Kurt asked, turning his head to look at Blaine.

“You asked me what I do for me,” Blaine clarified. “I like music. I like to practice the piano… and sing.”

“Really?” Kurt asked. He couldn’t imagine Blaine singing. He was simply all charming smiles and polite replies. But suddenly, desperately, he wanted to hear Blaine sing.

“Yup,” Blaine closed his eyes. “Most of the time, I have all of these thoughts bouncing around in my head, but when I sit down at the piano, the world just gets kind of quiet.” He sighed, smiling.

Kurt chewed his lip, nervously. He opened his mouth to ask Blaine something, when suddenly a light that was not red, green or yellow started lighting up Blaine’s face. A car horn hooted, and Kurt was up in a flash, grabbing his jacket and Blaine’s hand, pulling him out of the street.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice from the car yelled, as it zoomed past.

Kurt closed his eyes, doubling over as he breathed heavily through his nose. Shit, that was close, he thought. He only looked up when he heard a very unexpected sound. Blaine was laughing.

Blaine was laughing.

He was doubled up, nervous laughter bubbling up and making him sound a little crazy as he laughed at their narrow escape.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked, a smile tugging at his own lips. Blaine continued to laugh. “Why are you laughing?” The situation was so ridiculous that Kurt started laughing too. They just stood there for a moment, letting the sudden tension flow out of them through great waves of joy.

When it died down, they were both breathless, cheeks flushed red and their eyes locked on each other. Kurt couldn’t believe what he was seeing before him: a wonderful, beautiful boy, smiling back at him with new trust in his eyes.

“That was fun,” Blaine said, moving to stand next to Kurt. He was so close Kurt could have reached out and tucked a stray curl back into place. Instead he carefully put his hands into his pockets and turned to walk down the street again.

“Come on,” Kurt said, slowing his pace until Blaine was walking beside him.

They continued down the street, passing closed stores and darkened houses.

“Will you sing for me, Blaine?” Kurt asked eventually, voicing the question that had been building since Blaine’s confession.

“There’s no music…” Blaine said, quietly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

It was quiet for so long that Kurt thought Blaine wouldn’t sing. But as they turned down the street where Blaine was staying, Kurt heard a soft hum and then,

“I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places. That this heart of mine embraces,…”

“I think I know that song,” Mr Anderson said, after Kurt had stopped singing.

“It is a lovely old tune,” Kurt replied, wiping neatly at his eyes with a handkerchief. He closed the notebook he was reading from and blew his nose.

      “This story means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Mr Anderson asked.

         “Yes, I dare say it does.”

“So? Did Kurt kiss Blaine good night?” Mr Anderson’s innocent tone was so hopeful that Kurt couldn’t help but laugh a little, even with the sudden weight on his chest.

      “Oh, no. Kurt wasn’t ready for that, yet. Neither was Blaine.”