Blaine had rung the doorbell three times, and was thinking about throwing caution and his manners to the wind and going for a fourth, when Finn had finally granted him entrance into the Hummel-Hudson residence. Blaine bid Finn the necessary greeting and all but pushed past Finn as he walked brusquely toward the stairs.

Now, slightly breathless and standing in the doorway of Kurt’s bedroom, Blaine’s suspicions were confirmed. Kurt was brooding. Again. Blaine would have to do something. Kurt had been in his own head for the past week and there was just no reason for it. Kurt was flawless. Plus, he missed Kurt’s smile.

Blaine closed the distance between them and tentatively placed his hand on Kurt’s shoulder.

“Babe, are you okay? You’ve seemed extra stressed this week.”

“Oh, hey,” Kurt said, snapping his head to face Blaine, his eyes adorably large in his surprise. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Finn let me in. I almost had to ring the doorbell four times.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You must have been one step away from climbing the terrace and breaking into my bedroom.” Was that a smile?

“Anything to be close to you.” Yep. That was definitely a smile.

“You’re sweet.”

“And you’re amazing, and a talented, and wonderful, and sexy, and –“

“Stop it,” Kurt interrupted. The smile was gone. Blaine didn’t understand. His gushing over his boyfriend never failed to bring out the smile that Blaine swore gave him heart palpitations.

“What?” Blaine couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice.

“You’re the only one that thinks so,” Kurt rolled his eyes, lifted his eyebrows and put on his patented, superior bitch-face.

“Okay, Kurt,” Blaine said, his voice so tender on his boyfriend’s name it sounded more like a private endearment than something everyone’s allowed to call him. “What’s really wrong?” And to make it clear that he’s ready to listen and he’s not going anywhere until Kurt comes clean, Blaine plops himself down on the floor and sits cross-legged at Kurt’s feet, his chin on his hands and his eyes fixed firmly and adoringly on Kurt.

“It’s the election.”

Blaine offers a hum of understanding, but stays quiet. Now that he has Kurt talking. he’s here to listen.

“Well, both of them. Sue’s being an even bigger bitch than I thought humanly possible, and her lies about Dad are sticking like the trash that passes for food is sticking to our arteries. And now Brittany who is either suffering from a severe case of multiple personality disorder or has simply forgotten that she was once my campaign manager, which wouldn’t be a surprise since she’s also forgotten that her campaign was supposed to be about female empowerment & not the promise of topless teens, is spreading ridiculous lies about me to win a damn election.”

A pause.

“That’s not all.” Blaine encourages. It’s a statement, not a question.

“No one seems to care about my campaign to help curb the obesity epidemic at our school even though half the student body gets winded walking from class to class and suffers fatigue just standing in the lunch line. I mean, have the lunch ladies heard of non-fat anything or seen a recipe that isn’t half lard and Crisco? All I’m asking for is a damn salad bar. Just another option! I’m not trying to start another tot war.”

Another pause.

“That’s still not all, Kurt,” Blaine whispers. Kurt needs to say it.

“It’s Rachel.” Kurt lets it slip out. Blaine can hear the hurt in his voice, but Kurt lifts his chin and purses his lips trying for haughty-angry but Blaine can see the tears brimming at Kurt’s eyes. Blaine reaches out and caresses Kurt’s knee, willing him to continue – to get it out. “I just don’t understand how she could do this. We all know she’s ambitious but I didn’t think she was capable of doing this…to me. And she’s still doing it, even after she got Maria. She can’t share the spotlight, not even for me…for us. We were supposed to go to NYADA together. I just didn’t think she was capable of crushing my dreams just to achieve hers.”

“Your dreams aren’t crushed.”

“Blaine, I need this. There’s no way I get in without this on my CV.”

“You’ll get in.”

“Blaine, no. I wo-“

“Stop, Kurt,” Blaine says as he rises because now it’s his turn to talk. “You’re going to get into NYADA. You’re going to get into NYADA because they’re going to see in you what I see in you - what everyone sees in you. Kurt, you’re amazing. I stand in awe of your talent, heart and ambition every day. You don’t have to scream to get noticed because the sheer magnitude of your talent fills rooms and knocks people over. You don’t need to be class president, although you will be, to get into NYADA. All you need is to sit in the room with those admissions officers and let them get a healthy dose of Kurt Hummel.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says through a smile.

“Don’t thank me for something you deserve.”

“And just what do I deserve?” Kurt asked, trying to sound coy.

“A boyfriend who loves you enough to tell you you’re wrong, especially when it also involves telling you how incredible you are.” Blaine leaned in for a kiss and just then his stomach made an embarrassing and very inopportune noise.

“I’m sorry I made you eat salad all week,” Kurt giggled. “You must be starving.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. I’d eat salad for the rest of my life if it meant you would win.”

“You’re the only one. Sue’s right about one thing – I’m going to need a new campaign. Who knew not everyone would be as enthused about cucumbers and carrots?”

“I’m sure your brilliant mind will think of something. But right now, I think you need a little distraction.”

“Oh really? And just what did you have in mind?”

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hand, pulling him up from the vanity and toward the bed. Blaine preferred to show not tell.