The sun streams through the blinds on the window, casting warm beams of light across Blaine's face. He shifts, curling farther into himself, pressing his head deeper into his pillow. It hurts so bad that he wants to scream or recede into himself or just go back to sleep. His head feels like it's about to explode any second, his whole body feels heavy and weighed down. He squeezes his eyes shut, reaching blindly across the bed for someone who is not there. When he realizes this he forces his eyes open, his head pounding. When his eyes adjust to the light in the room they fall on Kurt, who's sprawled across his bed lazily flipping through channels on the TV with a textbook opened in front of him. Blaine tries to sit up and falls back onto the bed, a noise of discomfort coming from the back of his throat. Kurt looks up, startled, and smiles a barely-there smile. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. Or good afternoon, rather.”

Blaine groans and turns toward the clock. It's four thirty in the afternoon. He sits up again, ignoring the pounding in his head and the ache in his body. “Oh god, I”m sorry,” he breathes, rubbing at his temples. “Could you... could you turn that down?” he asks suddenly, gesturing in the general direction of the television. “It's so loud.”

It takes a few moments for Blaine to remember exactly what happened the night before, why he's so tired and why his body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. But he does, because he wasn't too trashed and he hadn't drank that much and... wow, he really fucked up, didn't he? When he thinks of all he has to say, all he has to do, he has to fight the urge to crawl back under the covers and pretend he had never woken up.

Kurt wordlessly picks up the remote and turns the TV off completely. It had been on low, just background distraction while he did his homework. He looks up at Blaine, not sure what to do or how to do it, so he doesn't move. Just speaks, coolly and tonelessly.

“So. It's tomorrow,” he began, closing the textbook and pushing it to the floor. “Think you might want to start explaining sometime soon?”

Blaine nods, resting his head in his hands. He wants to ask if he can maybe go get some coffee or something to help himself wake up a little, but he knows it's probably not the greatest idea. He just doesn't know what to say.

He just sits there.

Across the room, Kurt heaves a sigh.

He can tell that this is going to have to be done the hard way.

“Come here,” he says softly, and Blaine lifts his head from its little turtle shell. When the words process in his brain- which seems to not be working at all- he forces himself up and across the room, sitting down at the end of Kurt's perpetually-made bed. Kurt scoots over to sit next to him, folding one of his legs underneath him while the other one drapes over the end of the bed.

Their actions are stiff and painfully so. And it pains them both to the bone.

Kurt takes Blaine's hand, rubbing slow circles over it with his fingers.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine breathes again, but he's not sure who he's apologizing to.

He's not really sure of anything anymore.

Kurt nods, not saying anything. He doesn't want to say “it's okay” because he doesn't know if it will be or not and he's not one for throwing words out into the air. He tips up the end of Blaine's chin with a slim piano finger, their eyes meeting like the sun meets the sky.

They've always told each other everything. From day one, that's how it's always been. Sometimes with words. Sometimes without. But they always have.

Blaine swallows hard, squeezing Kurt's hand without realizing he's doing it. He can't get himself to talk, which is so weird because he's usually so vibrant and energetic and talkative. But he can't make the words come. And it's not just because he thinks Kurt will be mad. That's only a part of it, just a part, but he doesn't know how to say it. Finally, he bites his lip, takes a deep breath, and talks.

“Kurt.” He whispers the name softly, shifting but not breaking the eye contact. “Do you remember the first time we met? When you were the new kid and you got totally beyond lost and I found you wandering right by the coffee shop?”

“Of course. I'll remember it forever.” Kurt nods slowly. He has no idea where this is going, but it must be going somewhere.

“Remember when we found out that we had the same lunch? And the next day we sat across from each other in the coffee shop and spilled our hearts out onto the table?”

“......Yeah,” Kurt replies, a little uneasily, but still with a tiny hint of a smile at the memory. He would never be able to forget it and he wouldn't have it any other way. “Of course.”

Blaine nods, and the words roll off of his tongue before he can stop them.

“I went to a party last night. My brother.... he's... he's just-”
Kurt cuts him off. Blaine thinks he's going to say something along the lines of, “You blew me off to go to some party?” But he doesn't, not even close.

“You don't have a brother.” He's shaking his head, scrunching his nose up in that one way that he always does that Blaine finds absolutely adorable.

“You don't have a brother,” he repeats, startled and removing his hand from Blaine's without realizing he's doing it. “You told me that you were an only child.”

Blaine looks down, presses his lips together, rubs at the back of his neck.

“I did tell you that,” he recounts, “but it isn't true.”

“So you lied to me.”

“I lied to you.” He doesn't want to sugarcoat it. He knows that will never, ever solve anything.

“Let me explain. Please?”

Kurt meets his eyes. He doesn't say yes, he doesn't say no, he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't get up, he doesn't walk away, he doesn't leave. It's not as if this is some huge deception- yeah, Blaine lied to him, but it's not as if he cheated on him. it's just that as long as he'd known Blaine he's had this picture of him as an only child and it's sort of like he has to go back and fix everything, like when you read a paragraph in a book and you think one person is talking when really it's someone else and you have to go back and re-read the whole thing over in the right voice. He's slipped his hands from Blaine's, and they sit still across from each other, but their knees aren't touching.

“He and I – we don't really get along. I just... prefer not to talk about him.”

“Give me a break, Blaine,” Kurt says coldly. “I know you. I know you inside and out and backwards and forwards and I know that there's more to this than you're letting on.”

Blaine sighs. Kurt is right, of course he is, he always is.

“It's just... he's just...” he sighs, staring at his hands. “Kurt, he has a football scholarship. He was, pretty much a legend here, he was, he's.. he's straight, he's a sleaze, he's everything my parents ever wanted,” he finished, his voice cracking on “wanted.” He knows it was wrong. That coming here and lying about his brother's existence wouldn't make it all go away, not like he hoped. But he could pretend, until, that is, somebody found out.

Blaine's voice sounded so small. Kurt rests his head in his hands, bites his tongue, nods slowly. He doesn't understand why it's so important to Blaine, what awful thing his brother must have done to make him completely write him out of his life. For the first time, he feels that they are on different wavelengths, on separate pages, on opposite sides of the sea.

The swim back is hard, freezing cold, too far and exhausting.

You must be willing to swim it.

Or else, grow wings.

But he knows Blaine inside and out, backwards and forwards, upside and down. He knows how hard Blaine tries to get approval from his father, how much it kills him when he doesn't, even though he's so good at hiding it. It comes with the territory of being an actor. It's the only time Kurt has seen his smile barely reach his eyes and his eyes lose their famous sparkle. He knows it beats him up inside. He knows how much it hurts him, eats at him, devours him from the inside.

Which is why he can't be mad.

But he doesn't understand.

It's been a while since either of them has said anything. Blaine is playing with his hands, a nervous habit that Kurt hadn't caught onto until he had known Blaine for a few weeks. But he knows it now as well as he knows his own name.

“So.. I went to a party,” Blaine continues. “A college party that he dragged me to at the last minute, I promise you that I didn't blow you off for it. I didn't even want to go. And if it makes you feel any better, the party was horrible, the music was horrible, the people were horrible, it was horrible and-and you weren't there. And he kept introducing me to all of these girls and I couldn't tell him- I mean, he doesn't know- and one thing led to another and, my god, college girls are handsy, and I had to leave, I had to. So I walked to that gas station and I called you, and you came and picked me up because you never let me down, ever, and-”

“What do you mean, he doesn't know?” Kurt interrupts, raising an eyebrow.

And of course that's the one thing that matters the most to him out of all this.

Blaine exhales slowly, procrastinating with each second.

“He doesn't know that I'm gay.”

He wishes he could take a picture of the look on Kurt's face when these words process in his mind. Or maybe not, because he never wants to see it again. Kurt just blinks a few times, scrunches up his nose again.

“He what? Blaine... “ He's at a loss for words. He keeps shaking his head and blinking. Kurt Hummel is speechless.

“I know. I know it sounds bad. But please, please listen to me. He was never home. I wasn't lying when I told you I was home alone all the time. He was always out with his friends or at parties or with my parents at their country club or at college. He went to college right before I came out when I was fourteen- and you know how my dad loves to pretend my sexuality is some kind of phase and shouldn't be discussed, ever. If he asked I would tell him, but he's kind of dense, he's kind of oblivious, he doesn't... get it.” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes and wondering why he hadn't just rolled over and slept for the rest of the day. He fights the urge to curl up into himself and fall back asleep and pretend that none of this ever happened.

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes. “I'm not mad.” Annoyed, yes. Confused, definitely. But he couldn't be mad, not really. Blaine's eyes dart to meet Kurt's, surprised.

“I... I'm sorry,” he said again, softly. “It's just... Kurt, if you knew him you would prefer him over me too.”

“Blaine,” Kurt snapped, his heart breaking at Blaine's words. “Stop it. Stop that. I love you, Blaine Charles Anderson, more than anything in the world and more than you could possibly imagine. I will always love you. You're the most incredible person I have ever met and it breaks my heart when you say things like that. You are perfect to me. I love you when you smile and when you sing me to sleep and when you kiss me and when you hog all the covers and when you look at me and when I wake up in the middle of the night and you're just there and when you say my name in your sleep and when you inhale and when you exhale and even when you keep things from me that make no sense whatsoever- I love you even then.”

Their hands were locked together again, their fingers intertwined once more. Blaine almost laughs, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. He doesn't deserve Kurt, he knows it he knows it he knows it.

He takes a shaky breath. He doesn't know how Kurt does this to him, knocks down all his walls with his wrecking ball of words. But he always does.

“T-thank you. God, I love you.” And he closes the space between their lips, kissing him the softest he thinks he ever has, just pressing his lips against Kurt's lightly and softly and barely.

“I'm going to tell him,” he says shakily. “I promise I will. It's just... how do you start a conversation like that? It's not as easy as it was when I was fourteen, and.. it was so hard even then. God, it was so hard. But I will.”

And he's jolted, once again, by that damn cell phone of his and he almost doesn't look at it, but he does, and when he reads the name on the caller ID he squeezes his eyes shut and falls backwards on the bed. Kurt leans over him, presses a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“You don't have to answer that, you know.”

Blaine groans in response. “Yes, I do.” He pushes speakerphone and rolls over to face the wall.

His brother's voice filters into the room.

“Where'd you go last night, man? I swear I can't fuckin' take you anywhere. Lucia was looking for you all night.”

He groaned in response, momentarily forgetting that his brother could hear him too. Lucia must have been the not-blonde girl. He shifted so that his head was in Kurt's lap, sighing against his shirt.

“Come on, don't give me that. Look-”

“Charlie,” Blaine cut him off suddenly, his voice as sure of himself as ever. “Why don't you come over now and we can talk about this, rationally?”

Charlie was obviously taken off guard. He had never been invited inside before.

“Um, I guess if I don't have anything better to do I could drop by. There's really nothing more to talk about unless you want me to to get a hold of Lucia and-”

“No,” Blaine says quickly. “Just you. Come by whenever you can. Room 227. Bye.” He ends the call and throws his phone across the room. It lands safely on his own bed, unscathed. He groans again into Kurt's sweater, and Kurt plays softly with his hair. He has never seen Blaine so vulnerable before, and in a way he was honored. He knew that Blaine didn't show this side of him to, well- anyone.

“You should meet him,” Blaine explains after a moment.

“You didn't have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Believe me.”

And he does.

For the next half hour, they barely talk. There's so much to say, that it's almost funny that they don't say any of it. Instead, Blaine curls into Kurt, Kurt plays with Blaine's hair, occasionally pressing kisses to his cheek.

When the knock on the door sounds, Blaine rolls over, sits up, and stares at it. Kurt nudges him, and they exchange a look. They smile. Kurt nods. Blaine nods. Kurt squeezes Blaine's hand. Blaine squeezes back. He gets up. He walks to the door. He takes a deep breath. And another, and another. And he opens the door.

“Hi,” he greets his brother, plastering a smile on his face. “Thanks for stopping by. Oh,” he interrupted himself, gesturing towards Kurt, “this is my-” boyfriend. Best friend. Love of my life, man I want to marry, entire world. “-roommate, Kurt. Kurt, this is my brother, Charlie.”

Blaine's introduction startles Kurt, and he would be lying if he said it didn't feel like someone had punched him in the gut. He nods slowly from his spot sprawled out on his bed, gets up, smooths the nonexistent wrinkles from his pants and shakes Charlie's hand firmly. “A pleasure.” He can see the resemblance between the two boys in their defined jaw lines, thick eyebrows and honey-golden hazel eyes, although Blaine's are shinier. Blaine's hair is gelled back, as it always is, primp and in its place. Charlie's is about two shades lighter and is left to curl freely around his head.

“Yeah,” Charlie says distractingly, then turns his attention back to Blaine, who is sitting at the edge of Kurt's bed. “Man oh man. Bro, you owe me. You're going to owe me forever and ever.”

Blaine furrows his eyebrows, the gears in his head already turning. “Excuse me?”
“Get ready to fuckin' bow down because I got us a date. With twins.”

Blaine's eyes widen in terror. The tension in the room is almost visible, and he can feel himself being dragged underwater. He keeps telling himself to swim. To keep swimming, keep swimming, always. And all of a sudden he's aware of how close Kurt's hand is, just laying there inches away from his on the bed and he wants to hold it so badly he could scream. His hand flies up to the back of his neck instead. He's freezing. It doesn't help that Charlie is obviously convinced that he's some kind of superhero.

Fast forward, and the world returns to its original pace. Charlie is looking at him expectantly. Kurt is sitting stiffly next to him, holding his breath without realizing he's doing it.

“Um.” He says brilliantly. “I think I'm going to have to pass on that one. I'm just- you know-” not attracted to girls in any way, shape or form “- really busy and-” my boyfriend is sitting right there and I have an inkling of a feeling he wouldn't be too happy with this “midterms are coming up, I just- I'm going to have to pass.”

Charlie gives him a look that screams, You're kidding me, right?

“Come on man, don't give me that. I know you're, like, weirdly antisocial,” (Kurt almost laughs, because Blaine is anything but) “but you're not backing out on this one. I'm picking you up tomorrow at 7 and if you're not ready I'm dragging you out by your ankles. Alright?”

Kurt could have been eating popcorn at that point. This was a side of Blaine he had never, ever seen. A side of Blaine that he was sure he could have gone the rest of his life without seeing. Blaine always stood up for himself. He never, ever, ever let anyone push him around, and to see him like this, so vulnerable, so defenseless, almost made up for the roommate incident.

“Can Kurt go too?” He asks, and Kurt jumps at the mention of his name.

“We were going to hang out tomorrow. It wouldn't be fair to him.”

Charlie casts a look in Kurt's direction, as if he had forgotten that he was there. “Uh, sure, whatever. It's gonna be uneven though.”
“Doesn't matter,” Blaine says quickly.

“Okay. Whatever. I'll see you tomorrow. At seven. Be ready,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Now I've gotta get back home. I don't see why I had to come all the way out here. Whatever. Bye, Blaine. Kirk,” he dismissed. Blaine follows him to the door and closes it after him, then leans against it, sliding down, down, down until he was on the floor. He brings his knees to his chest and buries his face in them.

Kurt is completely torn. One side of him is screaming, what the hell was that? He other one is watching Blaine collapse into himself in a way he has never, ever seen before, and is dying to take him in his arms and hold him there until the sun explodes.

But roommates don't hold each other's hands, don't whisper comforting nonsense in each other's ears, don't kiss each other softly on the lips, don't cry into each other's shoulders, don't fall asleep breathing steadily against each other with their legs tangled up under he covers.

Roommates don't do any of that.

So he inches off the bed carefully, kneeling stiffly in front of Blaine.

“Blaine,” he says, aggravation showing in his tone. “Why on earth did you agree to that?”

It takes Blaine a few moments to answer, and when he does, his voice is muffled and sounds far away.

“I didn't.”

And then,

“I'm sorry.”

'What was that?” Kurt tries again. “Blaine- that wasn't you. That was- that was- what was that?”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine repeated, lifting his head, meeting Kurt's eyes once more. Kurt is tired of hearing Blaine say that he's sorry. He knows that he is. It's just that that might as well have been someone else out there on his bed, rather than the boy who he loved with his whole heart.

Blaine's eyes look so tired. He is so tired. He suddenly reaches for Kurt's hand. Kurt doesn't pull away.

“I wanted to hold your hand so badly back there,” he told his boyfriend. “I hate it. I hate it, and I promise you, I'm going to tell him tomorrow. I promise,” he repeated, and he laced their pinkies together, sealing the deal.

Kurt bites his lip and smiles sadly. He leans forward, wrapping Blaine up in a warm hug and holding him close. He tries to understand, he tries to keep his feelings at bay. Underneath it all, something is nagging at him, something he's dying to let out. But he doesn't. Because he knows Blaine so well. Knows that he's hurting. That he didn't mean for any of this to happen. That he's beating himself up for this on the inside. He would have been able to tell just by the ay Blaine leans into him effortlessly, clinging to him, breathing him in.

“Will you go with me?” He asks against Kurt's shirt. “You don't have to if you don't want to. But I'm going to be miserable without you.”

“I suppose I might be able to squeeze it into my schedule,” Kurt replies, and it's all that he says.

All the insecurities that are creeping up on him like ghosts in the dark that come out and haunt him when they think he isn't looking go unmentioned.

He holds Blaine closer still, he pushes them aside.

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