“I know, I know,” said Gordon. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Gordon stood up then and walked to a bookshelf along the wall. He traced his finger against several books’ spines, stopped at a certain book, and pulled it out. “Here, I want you to have this.” Gordon handed Blaine the hardcover book, a copy of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

“Why?” asked Blaine.

“That was the first Shakespeare we read together. It’s the easiest to explain to a six-year old.” He leaned forward onto the back of his chair, and Blaine noticed for the fist time that he seemed a bit old. “This is my attempt at being sentimental.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he said.

“I’m going to be there.”

Blaine swallowed. “I, uh, only saw one name on the RSVP that Mom sent back.”

Gordon nodded. “I know. If it’s not too late, though, I’d like to be her plus-one.”

“I think she’d like that.” He clutched the book tighter in his hands. “I know I would.”

Of course Kurt liked Columbia. He always knew he would. But what made it extra special was having a certain someone always nearby.

Kurt and Blaine had a few dates in Ohio that August, but the boys both shipped off to New York at the end of the month – Kurt a week earlier than Blaine for orientation – without ever really establishing what they were. Burt had voiced concerns about Kurt sticking so close to Blaine; he worried that he wouldn’t make any friends, and while Kurt dismissed him immediately, he took the concerns to heart. He told Blaine that they should only see each other once per week, at least initially, until October.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Blaine. “October? C’mon. A little sooner than that?”

“It’s not like we won’t see each other. I just think we should keep it limited. You have a group of friends established already, and I need to get one, too.”

Blaine sighed. “Twice a week? Once during the week, once on weekends?”

Kurt bit his lip.

“Okay,” said Blaine. “You can have it your way. But let me know when that gets too annoying to keep up. Deal?” He winked at Kurt knowingly.

Blaine wound up winning. By mid-September, Blaine and Kurt saw each other almost every day. The compromise was that Kurt initiated, and while sometimes they would eat dinner together, sometimes they would just meet up in the mailroom for five minutes. But Blaine was right: when you love someone, and they love you back, – even if you aren’t being explicit about it – it’s hard to stay away.

During midterms, Blaine called Kurt and begged for a coffee break. “I know, I know, you’re supposed to initiate, but I could seriously use some time away from this paper.”

“Now, now, it’s October. And has been for a while. You can start initiating things, too.”

“Great. Then I’ll meet you outside your dorm in seven minutes.”

“Seven?” Kurt questioned, but Blaine had already hung up. He pulled his jacket on and smiled as he inhaled and caught a whiff of Blaine’s cologne on the collar.

They met up and walked to a Starbucks, preferring the overpriced, too-strong coffee to going anywhere near the student union, filled with stressed out students. “Going home for the break?” Blaine asked.

“No. I decided to skip this one and save the money so I can fly home for Christmas. When do you leave?”

“I’m not going home, either,” said Blaine. Kurt looked concerned, so he continued: “Dad’s being a bit of a – well, how should I say this?”

“An asshole?” offered Kurt.

Blaine smirked. “You’re cute when you swear,” he said. “And yes. An asshole.”

“What’s he saying now?”

“He thinks that being in New York is ‘encouraging my behavior.’”

Kurt gaped at him. “That’s – actually ridiculous.”

“Indeed. So, I’m not going home for break. I’ll just chill here. My mom said she might come and visit for a couple of days, but she’d be driving, so it’s still up in the air.”

“Well, we can spend the week together, then.”

“The whole week? Is that too much?” teased Blaine.

“Nobody else I know is staying here. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Neither was sure which boy initiated, but the next thing they knew, they were holding hands.

“So, who did all the planning?”

“Kurt, of course,” said Blaine. “I’m pretty he’s had his big day planned since he was four.”

“Do you get a say in any of this?” Gordon forced a smile. Blaine actually appreciated the effort.

“Sure. I got to pick the cake. Kurt says it’s the last night I’ll ever eat anything so unhealthy, so he let me go all out. Chocolate-chocolate chip,” he said, smiling at the memory of the tasting. “And I got to pick out my tux. As long as he approved it.”

“So you’ll be wearing a tux?”

Blaine’s smile started to fade. “Of course.”

“What’s Kurt wearing?”

Blaine sighed. “A tux, Dad.”

Gordon nodded. “I guess it was silly of me, but I assumed he’d wear a dress.”

Blaine chuckled in spite of himself.

“I’ll never forget that ridiculous skirt at your prom. I guess I just – well,” Gordon mused.

“Now, now. It was a kilt. And very high fashion.”

“I’m trying, Blaine,” said Gordon, “but you’ll have to give me a bit more time to come around to that.”

Blaine nodded. He’d waited this long; he supposed he could wait a little longer.

That summer, Blaine took a job singing at the same restaurant in Ohio again, and Kurt worked part time at his father’s shop while he wrote for a student-run fashion blog. He didn’t think it’d go anywhere, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to rant about fashion. “Besides,” he added, “it’s a resume piece.”

The two of them spent free evenings at each other’s houses, sneaking in intimate moments when they could. This mostly worked at Blaine’s house, where Gordon avoided seeing Blaine as much as possible and Kathleen had become an expert at looking away at all the right moments. But Kurt had mastered lying to his father in the most innocent ways possible in order to get just a little more private time with Blaine. One night, for example, he simply couldn’t drive home from Westerville, because didn’t Burt know the statistics on driving accidents past 8 p.m. on Thursdays? Or, one weekend, Burt had to go grocery shopping because Kurt knew there’d be a sale at one particular store that took an extra half hour to get to. Kurt wasn’t sure if Burt went along with all of this because he believed his son, or because Burt was desperately trying to avoid another sex talk, but regardless of his motives, this all worked out for Kurt and Blaine.

On one particularly humid evening, after Kurt had made up some story about spending the night with Mercedes and Rachel, Blaine and Kurt took the opportunity to laze around Blaine’s air conditioned room in very little clothing. They took turns admiring each other, stealing kisses and flirtatious grabs; and with one whispered question, they gave in to the one urge they’d been suppressing for so long in favor of timing and romance.

While they’d been sweating before, afterwards the two of them were shimmering, but cuddling close anyway; as uncomfortable as it might’ve been to be sticking together, it didn’t seem logical to be far apart after having been so very close. “I’d been wanting that for a long time,” Kurt whispered into Blaine’s ear. They were lying on top of the bed sheets, Kurt sitting up against the headboard with Blaine draped over his chest.

Blaine nuzzled his head against Kurt’s neck, looking up to him, smiling. “Me, too.”

“Good thing you have a single next year,” said Kurt with a giggle.

“Oh?” teased Blaine. “Why’s that?”

Kurt smacked Blaine’s cheek softly. “I love you,” he said.

Blaine laughed, rubbing an Eskimo kiss against Kurt’s cheek. “I love you, too.”

Kurt had declared a French major at the beginning of his third semester, and around the same time, Blaine added a Music major to his Comparative Literature major. (After two years of classes and two summers of performing and writing, he didn’t see any reason not to make it official; he just didn’t mention it to his tuition-paying father.) Being back in New York was a relief for Kurt and Blaine: there was no more sneaking around, no more critical stares. There was just them, and being together. Blaine floated through the first month of school, convinced this semester would be the best yet – socially and academically.

Kurt buried himself in everything the French department had to offer, his goal to be friendly with all of the professors by the time he graduated. And along the way, he met someone named Chase in a study group. Chase was very tall and very skinny, and chose to wear jeans and shirts and other clothes that emphasized his pole-like stature. When Blaine first saw Kurt with Chase, he was taken aback with how freely Chase would touch Kurt – on the arm, on the back, and he would even grab Kurt’s hand every now and then. Flirtatious, thought Blaine, was an understatement.

Kurt asked Chase to come along to dinner with them in the dining hall one night. “You’ll love him,” said Kurt, patting Blaine on the arm. “He’s from Wisconsin, so he gets the whole Midwestern gay teen angst thing.”

“Is that – are we still on that?” asked Blaine.

“Well, no, not really. But the point is, he’s one of us.”

Blaine snorted.

“What?” asked Kurt.

“I just don’t see – never mind,” said Blaine, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s a new friend, Blaine.”

Blaine shrugged.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Blaine, scratching the back of his head. “It’s fine.”

The boys walked to the dining hall holding hands. Chase was standing at the entrance reading a book – probably in French – with his headphones in. Kurt called to him a couple of times, and when he finally looked up, Kurt dropped Blaine’s hand and went in to hug Chase. “Chase,” he said, his hands lingering a moment on Chase’s arms, “this is Blaine.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Chase, smiling, revealing a set of obviously-whitened teeth. He reached his hand out towards Blaine.

He took it and managed to smile back. “Shall we eat, then?” Kurt started telling Chase some story about his French discussion group from earlier that day. Blaine had heard the story once already, so he hung back behind them as they entered the dining hall.

Once they got their food, they picked a small table and settled down to eating, Kurt and Chase on one side of the table across from Blaine. “So, you’re a Comp Lit major?” asked Chase, who was arranging the perfect bite of a salad – the same kind of salad Kurt was eating – on his fork.

Blaine chewed his cheeseburger, nodding. “Yup. And Music.”

“That’s cool. I’m actually thinking of double majoring with French and Comp Lit, but I’ve only taken a couple classes.”

“Which ones?” asked Blaine, trying desperately to hold on to the fact that Chase was being perfectly nice, and there was no need to be immature about this situation.

“Just intro levels, you know. What professors do you like?”

“See? I knew you two would get along,” hummed Kurt, clapping his hands together a couple times.

“Um, well there’s one professor – “

“Oh, my god, wait, I’m sorry, but I have to say this quickly: did you hear who’s teaching Paris Modernism next semester?” interrupted Kurt.

Chase laughed, and Blaine saw Kurt sit up in his seat more. “I did,” said Chase. “I don’t think she’ll be that bad at it.”

“The woman doesn’t even have a proper accent. She’s from rural California,” snapped Kurt.

And off they went on a tirade of who taught best while Blaine finished his cheeseburger in silence.

“Okay,” said Chase, noticing Blaine had no food left on his plate. “We’re not being fair here.” Chase rubbed Kurt’s arm affectionately. “And you never actually told me about Comp Lit professors, so why don’t we switch to that?”

Blaine tried not to glare, though he couldn’t say with confidence that he was successful. He started talking about professors, but Kurt’s and Chase’s eyes slowly glazed over, and eventually he just stopped in the middle of a story about Professor Henley and his obsession with Spanish-English translations. “Well, speaking of Professor Henley, I should probably get going on the reading for tomorrow.”

Kurt sat up, coming out of his daze. “Oh. Yeah. Homework.” He looked at Chase.

Chase smiled at Blaine. “Thanks for filling me in. I’ll let you know if I decide to go through with the major.”

Blaine stood up. “Yeah, no pressure,” he said flatly. He looked to Kurt. “Coming over?”

“Actually,” said Kurt hesitantly, as he also stood up, “Chase and I were going to do some work on this one translation we’re reading for our Lit class. It’s pretty tough to follow the story, what with the phrasing being so off.”

Blaine blinked.

Kurt clutched the strap of his shoulder bag tightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though. Coffee in the morning?”

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed. “See you tomorrow.”

On his way back to his dorm, Blaine talked himself out of his funk; he trusted Kurt, and he was sure he had nothing to worry about.

A few weeks into the semester, over dinner, Kurt invited Blaine to be his plus-one at a French department dinner. Blaine felt an odd sense of relief knowing that Kurt invited him instead of Chase. He was actually quite startled with how much relief he felt; had he doubted Kurt’s loyalty that much? But he pushed the thoughts out of his head as quickly as possible and accepted the invitation with a kiss to Kurt’s cheek. He had been aiming for his mouth, but Kurt seemed to turn his head just a little and made him miss.

Later on, while Blaine was scattering kisses along Kurt’s bare chest, stomach, everywhere, he couldn’t help but feel like Kurt wasn’t all there.

The party was lovely, – albeit not quite as exciting as the Comparative Literature parties Blaine was used to attending for his own major – but he felt desperate to leave. Blaine, Kurt, and Chase sat in a line along one side of a long table that sat 15 people, which meant that once Kurt turned to speak to Chase, all he saw of his boyfriend was his back. He tried to convince himself that his desperation to leave wasn’t at all to do with the fact that Kurt had spent the entire evening like this, ignoring him in favor of schmoozing in French with Chase. No, he thought, it was simply because he couldn’t understand anything that was being said around him, and he was getting tired of being out of the loop. And then he realized it was a combination of the two: he couldn’t understand a word of what Kurt was saying to Chase, and it was infuriating him.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head out,” Blaine said, tapping Kurt firmly on the shoulder after an hour and a half of neglect.

Kurt turned to face Blaine, his cheeks a fierce shade of crimson. “Oh, okay.”

“So soon?” asked Chase, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and leaning forward for a better view of Blaine. “They usually give us pretty good dessert at these things. You might wanna stick around.” He smiled, and Blaine could tell he’d used another white strip recently.

“I think I’ve had enough.”

“I guess it’s more fun if you actually speak French,” said Chase. “I don’t blame you for leaving, really.”

Kurt laughed, placing a hand on Chase’s knee quickly, but pulling it back as he looked at Blaine again. “So, I’ll, um, call you later?”

Blaine shrugged. “Whatever.”

When his phone’s caller ID screen lit up with ‘Dad’ on it a few days later, Blaine choked on the water he had been drinking. “Hello?” Blaine said into his phone’s receiver in disbelief. His father never called him.

“Just checking in,” said Gordon. “Got a letter today saying your tuition’s going up.”

“Oh,” said Blaine, his heart racing.

“You better come home with straight A’s. Get me my money’s worth.”

“I’m doing my best,” said Blaine.

“Are you, uh – still doing the New York thing?” asked Gordon.

A flash of heat surged in Blaine’s stomach. He clenched his free hand in a fist. “Yes,” he said, pointedly.

“Right. That’s all. I’ll – your mother will call you later.”

They hung up. Blaine took another sip of water. He started to call Kurt to tell him about the call from his dad, but realized he’d probably be studying with Chase. He pocketed his phone and started in on a book that was due in a couple of days.