It wasn’t his astounding good looks. Ok, actually, it was somewhat about his looks, but there were other things too. Things that made Blaine’s heart beat faster and flutter against his ribcage erratically, like it wanted to burst from his chest. As if his heart itself couldn’t stand to be trapped in it’s cage, away from Kurt, for one moment longer. He was turning into such a girl, and the worst part was that he didn’t have any real problem with it. He was already in that deep.

He cursed Kurt Hummel’s beautiful cheekbones.

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Starting a conversation had proved to be mistake number one. Not wanting to waste the hour Blaine’s mother’s insurance company had already paid for, Blaine had casually suggested that they just talk for the remaining time. Besides obviously being an excellent listener, Kurt was also vastly interesting to listen to. In their short hour together the younger man learned that Kurt had skipped Kindergarten, third, and sixth grade, and that his favorite color was green because when he was younger his favorite older cousin had decided he hated green M&M’s and would give them all to Kurt, who adored chocolate in any form, in his disgust. Blaine learned that Kurt, though a Broadway junkie, held a special place in his heart for the Blues because when he was four that same older cousin had told him the musicians playing the music spilling out of the club they were passing had sold their souls to the devil to play so well, and this appealed to a young Kurt in some na�ve, awestruck four year old way.

But even if listening to his doctor’s endearing anecdotes had been his first error, Blaine’s second miscalculation, being lulled into enough comfort to actually start telling the man some of his own not so endearing tales, soon eclipsed it in stupidity.

“You should have seen her face when I told her I was going into music education instead of premed in the fall. She was so happy I was dropping Musical Theater, but so pissed off I wasn’t going to become the kick ass emergency room hero cum money making machine of her dreams, I don’t think she actually knew what to do with himself.” Blaine’s eyes had lit up with a bitter fierceness even as he lay back on the couch across from Kurt, “Like I chose education as my second choice just to stick it to her, and not because I have an overwhelming fear of vomit. I mean she should have just been happy I dropped the major I really want. For her, no less.”

Scoffing slightly in disgust, Blaine had looked up abruptly and caught Kurt’s gaze. His own eye’s widened slightly as he saw a trace of his own intensity blazing in the face of the other before he noticed Blaine watching.

It was here that Blaine first started his decent into the role of love struck teenage girl. His heart sped up a little bit, his eyes took on a slight glassy tint, and the young singer felt his hold on his own heart loosen as the fierceness ebbed slowly away from Kurt’s eyes to be replaced by cheerfulness as he abruptly changed the subject.

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It was to an empty house that Blaine arrived that afternoon, which wasn’t all that unusual. He had no siblings and his parents were corporate lawyers, usually only home on weekdays between the hours of midnight and six in the morning.

As he punched in the gate code in front of the pretentious house his mother’s old money had purchased, his phone buzzed by his side. Parking and sliding his finger to open it he saw a new text message flashing. ‘Good you’re home! We’re coming over.’ it read. A second later another came in; ‘And no, we were not just sitting in the car across the road waiting for you to get back, because that would be stalker-ish. We just happened to be driving by and see your car. Honest.’

Blaine smiled and hurried to unlock his front door, retreating to the safety of his entrance hall to watch his two best friends speed up his drive, tumble out of their car and race up the steps into his house. The routine hadn’t changed much in the three years they had been best friends.

“I won!” David shouted in triumph.

“No… effing… way.” Wes panted, “I so crossed the line first…. like two seconds before you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night kid.” The other condescended.

“Shut up. I must celebrate my victory with food!” The winded boy huffed away the competition forgotten.

“Hey Blaine, how’d the thing go this morning?” David asked as they followed their ravenous friend to the Anderson’s spacious kitchen.

“Um. It was… You know, it was-”

“Yeah how’d your crazy person meeting g- OW David! Come on was that necessary?”

“It was fine.” Blaine interrupted before his friend’s could begin another of their pointless arguments. “The doctor had the same opinion we did of my supposed ‘psychosis’”

Here he stopped to roll his eyes and Wes took the opportunity to interject, “You mean he thinks the mental illness actually belongs to your mother.” To which Blaine nodded.

“So that’s it? Is he going to tell your mom that there’s no problem, other than the fact that she’s a loon? In more professional terms of course.”

Blaine pulled the refrigerator door open, simultaneously slapping David’s hand away from the open package of Oreo’s on the island. “Stop that, you’ll ruin your lunch. Yeah, I mean, hopefully that’s it. Kurt said he would talk to my mom for me, tell her there’s nothing to freak out about but- What?”

Turning from the fridge, ingredients for sandwiches piled in his arms, he stopped as he observed the strange looks on the faces of the other two boys.

“Kurt?” David began, frowning quizzically.

“Who’s Kurt?” Wes finished his thought, an identical expression on his face.

Blaine blinked. “Kurt, he’s… That’s my doctor’s name. Dr. Kurt Hummel.”

“He told you to call him Kurt?” they spoke together. He hated it when they did that. It was very disconcerting. Also unsettling was the fact that their twin quizzical frowns were morphing, at roughly the exact same rate, into something more suspicious.

“How old is he?” “So you’re not seeing him again right?” Not the same question, but still somehow in harmony. It was freaky how they did that.

Finally seeing what they were hinting at, Blaine let out a small sigh and turned to the counter to drop the food in his arms.

“26. And like I was saying, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to have to see him again. Ku- Doctor Hummel is going to give my mom his professional opinion that I don’t need therapy, that this isn’t a problem, and then she will take it and I will be happily shrink free.” He wrinkled his nose, a sudden thought occurring to him as he started making sandwiches, “Or, well, worst comes to worst, she’ll decide that he is the loon and transfer me to another one. Either way I won’t be going there again.”

He felt a tentative hand touch his shoulder and he stiffened, determinedly not looking up from the ham he had begun slicing, his mood swinging from upbeat to closed off as the weight of what his two best friend’s were implying bore down on his shoulders.

“And anyway,” he continued, shaking off the hand and he turned to the pantry for chips, still not looking at either one of them, “it’s not like he was cute or anything. Christ he just told me to use first name because he’s less than a decade older than me, he wasn’t coming on to me for god’s sake-”

“That’s not what-” “We were just-” “Jesus Blaine we just don’t want-”

“I KNOW!” Blaine whirled around, startling them into silence. “I know. You don’t mean to upset me. You’re just looking out for me. You just don’t want what happened with Mark to happen again… Well it won’t. Ok? I’m a big boy now, a grown ass man. I’m not sixteen. I can take care of myself. Besides it wouldn’t even be illegal anymore.”

The two people closest to him in the world flinched (in unison) at his flippant tone, but backed off. As the two people who knew him better than anyone, they knew when continuing on a topic would do more harm than good. There was a long pause as the three boys cooled down.

“Sooooo…” Wes began, some time later, “Did you catch the Teen Choice Awards? Harry Potter huh?”