It's all I can do not to fidget uncontrollably as I wait outside of the little French restaurant the next night. I'm early, by about half an hour, but I couldn't sit around my apartment anymore. There were papers and things I tried to organize, left over from the hurricane my apartment apparently went through during exam time, but they couldn't distract me from the way my insides were jumbling up.

I debated picking up some flowers or something, but decided that that might be too much. As well, with Kurt meeting me here, they might be in the way during dinner. And then I got a bit panicky, trying to figure out if I should bring anything at all or if it was too forward.

I have to stop myself and sit down on a bench. My mind's running rampant and I'm not sure what protocol is. If I'm being honest with myself, I've never really been on a date before. Not one that counted, not since the Sadie Hawkins dance back in high school. It's something that used to plague me and I'd wake from dreams feeling lonely and full of worry, but whenever someone would ask me out, I couldn't find it in me to accept. Something always seemed to be missing. And so now my brain's working overtime, hoping that I haven't pushed too much or done something wrong.

I'm taking a deep breath when I see Kurt walking down the street towards me. He's stunning. He captured me every which way at the coffee shop, and now he's capturing me in ways I didn't know someone could. His outfit is nice but not too dressy, and it looks as if it was made for his body. I can't quite catch my breath when his eyes fall on me and his face lights up.

"Hi," he says a little breathlessly. His eyes trail over my face; I always get the feeling that he's memorizing me, like he thinks I'll blink out of existence if he stops looking.

"You're early," I comment.

He smiles and something in my stomach shifts, flutters, does something it's not used to but feels so familiar. "So are you."

I laugh and make a motion towards the doors with my hands that seemed a lot smoother in mind. "Shall we head in then?" I ask, my face heating in my nervousness.

Kurt's face softens and the way he looks at me strikes something in my heart.

We head into the restaurant and sit at a table I reserved when I called earlier. It's off to the side, so that we're not in the middle of everything and can enjoy a little bit more privacy.

We make small talk for a bit, talk about the weather, how nice the restaurant is, "It's actually one of my favourites," Kurt comments offhandedly.

When it comes time to order, I pick something randomly off the menu, only to have Kurt lean forward and settle one of his hands on mine while pointing at an item on the menu, "Actually, I think you'd prefer this." I shrug and oblige. Kurt smiles and leans back, removing the warmth of his hand, and tells the waiter, in perfect French, what he'd like to order.

"So, you speak French?" I ask once the waiter has left us alone again.

He laughs lightly and waves it away, "Yeah, it's nothing really. Just something I picked up when I was younger."

I feel my forehead crinkle, "You just 'picked it up'?"

Kurt shrugs with one shoulder, "I thought it was a lovely language, so I surrounded myself with it whenever possible."

I nod and accept this information. "What else? Tell me more about Mr. Kurt… Kurt… Well, it seems I don't know much about you at all," I laugh.

"Hummel," he says with a strange smile, "Kurt Hummel."

"How very James Bond of you," I joke, "Blaine Anderson."

He laughs and I swear the sound of it sets sparklers aflame in my heart, then he puts on a very serious face that holds only a hint of the amusement I can see in his eyes, while holding out his hand, "Very nice to meet you, Blaine Anderson."

I return the shake and then question again, "So, tell me about yourself."

"Oh, what's there to say about me," he starts, "You already know I'm a fashion intern."

"That's just what you do, though. Tell me about who you are."

"Well, what I do is part of who I am, Blaine," his voice sounding fond as it rolls over my name, "But, I guess you need something else to satisfy your curiosity, right?"

His tone is playful, and I feel more comfortable than I ever have been with anyone. With family, friends, strangers. I smile and give him an affirmative nod.

"There's not much interesting about my life before university," he states, "Just another kid from small town Lima, Ohio–"

"Small world," I interject wondrously, and the smile that plays on Kurt's face borders on pained, and I wish I could take back the words and never have caused that look. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

He shakes his head, "No, no. It's nothing. I just…" he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth for a second, "I just always feel bad for anyone from around there."

"Oh, alright," I say, not sure if I believe the reason, but I let it slide anyways, "Tell me more then, about you." I lean forward on the table, resting one of my elbows on it, and placing my head in my palm.

"Well," he says, flushing lightly at my interested posture, "I'm not quite sure what you want to know."

"What's your favourite colour?" I shoot out immediately.

He lets out a small laugh and looks at me so fondly that I'm afraid he's going to melt, "Red."

"Why is that?" I ask, tilting my head. Red doesn't seem to suit him.

Kurt's eyes dart away and down, his voice softening when he replies, "I guess, someone I used to know… they wore a lot of red, and they were really special to me. I guess I just… red makes me think of them."

I instantly want to kick myself in the forehead. The look on his face is heartbroken as he lets it take over for a moment, before neatly folding it and tucking it into his back pocket, like he must always do. "I'm sorry, Kurt–"

"It's not your fault," he says, cutting me off, and it's so fierce that I feel myself recoil a little. Then he smiles and changes the subject, "What else do you want to know?"

I push away the heavy topic and decide it's something we might come back to another day, "Favourite house pet?"

"I like cats," he answers, "but I'm partial to puppies sometimes, as well."

"Alright," I say, "What about your family? What's your dad like?"

"My dad's great. He is the one constant in my life, always loving me and caring. I don't know what I'd do without him," Kurt replies, a small smile on his face before he quietly adds, "Please don't ask about my mother."

I'm not sure how to respond to that, so I just lightly nod my head, "Okay."

"I've got a step-brother, Finn," he carries on before I get the chance to ask anything else, "I went to highschool with him, and then my dad married his mom, and by funny chance, we became brothers."

I'm still reeling from his earlier comment, my brain trying to place the story of his father marrying when Kurt was in highschool with him not wanting me to ask about his mother. My mind provides many options for what it might be, but I try to push them back until he tells me, refusing to believe the worst.

"Sounds like an interesting story," I offer.

He smiles, "Maybe for another time."

My heart leaps suddenly, into my stomach and then immediately into my throat, trying to jump out of my chest.

Kurt takes my silence as a cue to continue, "That's the basis of my family, just my dad and me for a while and then the addition of Finn and his mom. Got by most of the time with friends."

"Good friends?"

His face turns thoughtful and far away, remembering the past, "They became good friends. We were in a Glee club and therefore banded together, but at the end of high school… we went our separate ways, but that's when we became closer."

I straighten up in my seat and try to figure out which question to ask first, "Isn't it supposed to be the other way? That you grow apart when you go separate ways?"

Kurt blinks hard and picks up a fork on the table, finding something to fiddle with, "It's just that… something happened around graduation and… we realized we all cared about each other more than we thought."

"Can I ask…?" I trail off, not knowing if this is first-date material to get into, or if I just shouldn't push it.

He shakes his head, putting the fork down, "No. Not today. Not right now."

I nod my head once, "Alright. Tell me about this Glee club then. You sing?"

Kurt laughs and we talk music for a bit, him telling me things that he's performed and seeking my opinion and thoughts, and I start to pitch in with the things I've learned in university so far. This is a comfort zone for us. We don't deviate to whatever it is that Kurt doesn't want to talk about, and while I'd like to help him feel better about it, I know it's not my place right now.

A quiet lull falls over us as the waiter returns with our food. When he leaves, Kurt picks up his drink and watches as I pick a piece of food off my plate and pop it in my mouth. I have to admit, Kurt was right. Whatever it was I was going to order before couldn't be better than this.

I make a noise of appreciation and Kurt's laughter fills my ears again before he's saying, quite smugly, "I told you that you'd like that."

I simply nod and make another noise of satisfaction. I feel like I should be nervous under his watchful gaze, but instead I preen a little. Knowing he wanted to pick something I liked, and that he wanted to make sure I actually liked it as well. I feel safe in his eyes.

Kurt places his drink back down on the table, "Now that I've been thoroughly interrogated, what about you? Tell me everything."

I laugh nervously, feeling my insides twist, so I stick to the things that are easy to explain, "Well, I, too, am from Lima. You think I'd have seen you around or something before." I stop at the look on his face, filled with such determination not to fall. He's smiling, but it looks hard for him, and I figure it's because of his previous statement. He just feels bad for kids from Lima, and I can understand that from what I've seen.

"My family?" I continue, "Well, my mom, she's great. She doesn't work much anymore, but she used to be a chef. But she hasn't worked since… Since around the time my little sister started highschool. I think she felt bad for not being home when we were kids."

"Kids?" Kurt asks, "How many of you are there?"

I huff out a laugh, "Okay, I probably shouldn't say 'kids' per say, there's a lot of age gaps in my family, we were never all kids at the same time."

He tilts his head and his expression says for me to continue.

"My brother, Cooper," I explain, "He's an actor in LA, in a few commercials. We used to have some issues, but… he's not as bad as I once thought. Really caring. And there's my sister, Emily. She's 5 years younger than me. Actually starting university this coming year, I think it's going to be great for her. She'll have fun." I realize I've trailed off talking fondly about my siblings. Cooper and I had troubles since we were kids, but Emily and I were always close due to her endless amount of energy and overly accepting nature.

He nods but doesn't add further comment about it, instead opting for lighter things, "Well, you got to know, so what's your favourite colour?"

"Blue. Kind of like your eyes," I answer immediately without thinking. Kurt blinks a few times in response before I realize what I've said and start to stumble in repair, "Uh, strange coincidence, I guess. I swear that wasn't some cheesy come-on line."

I worry that I might have said the wrong thing but he just blushes, lets a small smile take over his face, and looks down at his food, as if he suddenly just realized it there. He lifts some of it on his fork and before popping it in his mouth, asks, "Favourite house pet?"

"Well, I am a dog guy," I answer, "But I guess I could be partial to cats sometimes. If persuaded appropriately."

He grins and I can't stuff down the giddy little kid in me who just want to jump on the couches and scream off of rooftops about this feeling in my heart.

We talk about life in university, his life out of it so far, and occasionally return to the topic of the Glee Club Kurt was in, while we eat. It's easy and I feel so relaxed around him. Like he enjoys my company and not someone he's expecting me to be. Too soon we've finished eating and are standing outside the restaurant, both pretending about how we really don't want the night to end.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" I suggest.

"Yeah, sure," he replies, and I like to think that he looks faintly relieved because he didn't want the date to end yet either.

"There's a park just a couple blocks from here."

"I know, Blaine. I live here too." He starts walking down the street and I shake my head and the combination of my foolishness and the fondness in his voice. I run to catch up with him.

"Oh, yeah, sorry."

When we get closer to the park, I feel the back of his fingers graze across mine. I look out the corner of my eye and he seems almost unaware of what's happened, but I get the sense that he did it on purpose, so I take it as an invitation. I slide my fingers into the palm of his hand, and while I was aiming to simply hold on, our fingers end up twined together. When I look at him now, he's got a small smile on his face.

We slow to a stop in the middle of the park. There's a clearing in the middle of the trees and the moonlight is shining down like a spotlight. I look up and imagine that I can see the ocean of stars that are blocked out by the city lights. The slight breeze is warm and that accompanied by the feel of Kurt's hand in mine settles me. Before I realize it, I'm humming a tune that I've never heard before, but promise myself to call "Kurt's Song."

I feel his eyes on me before his unoccupied arm slinks under mine and rests against my back. Instinctively, I raise my hand and grip his shoulder as I look back into his eyes. He raises our twined hands and starts to spin us slightly to my humming. I feel so calm.

I'm not sure how long we sway in the moonlight, but eventually I feel the song come to a close, as if that's the spot where it must end and I can't drag it out any longer just to prolong this moment. I pull us to a stop, but don't move to retract my arms, and neither does he.

The quiet stretches on before I know what I must do. My eyes dart from his down to his lips, and I know he hasn't missed the action from the way he's intently staring at me. "Kurt," I whisper, my voice coming out lower and more haggard than I expected, "May I kiss you?"

He smiles that sad smile of his, and pleads when his lips part, "Please."

I prolong the moment, looking from his eyes to his lips and back again, but I feel myself being pulled in, and I can't help but lean into him. I shift up a bit on my toes and arch my head up to him, letting my eyes drift shut.

The second my lips brush his, I know this is it. I know this is what I haven't been aware I was missing. What I've been looking for all my life. It's silly and ridiculous to fall so deep after so little of an action, but I can't seem to help it.

He gasps softly, and I wonder what it would be like if we were actually kissing. If this was more than just the electricity running back and forth between the lightest of touches. Before I can ponder it any longer, Kurt's taking over, pushing forward and claiming my lips with his own. I'm suddenly light-headed, but grounded more than I've ever been. I feel like I'm his.

Kurt's fingers let go of my hand, and I temporarily mourn the loss before they're reaching into the hair at the back of my neck. His hand on my back tugging me in tighter. I allow my now free hand to slide onto his other shoulder and pull him as close as I can.

I feel like I'm melting. With our lips moving slowly against each other's, our bodies trying to mold together. And then his tongue plays across my bottom lip and I'm on fire. Everywhere his skin touches feels like flames and I'd be happy to burn to ashes.

I want to grasp at him more, pull him closer and never let go, but he's retreating, and so I let him. When his lips part from mine he gives a small sound that sounds so broken that I just want to hold him and tell him everything will be alright. He hasn't let go of me, just standing with his mouth so close to mine that I can feel every breath on my lips, and it feels like we're magnets, the way we're both trying not to dive back under.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" Kurt trails off, and I assume he means for the direction he had taken the kiss.

"Please don't apologize," I plead, my voice gone breathy, "please just kiss me again."

And so he does, without another word he presses back in and I surrender to him. Every piece of me is no longer mine, and I should be scared of how easily it was to place my heart with him, but I don't feel empty, I feel like I gained something, and I hope I'm not fooling myself when I feel the weight of his heart pressed back into my hands.

"He's… he's wonderful," is what I say when I'm on the phone with my mother later than night.

I'm back in my apartment after Kurt protested me walking him home and ended up with me at my doorstep, kissing again under the streetlights, afraid to let go of what had felt so magical.

I had almost forgotten that it was a Tuesday night, and that I call my mother every Tuesday since I left home. It's something she insists on, prepared to let her baby bird fly, but not quite ready to cut the ties. And so after wandering through the rooms of my apartment in a daze, caught up in the daydream of my head that surrounded Kurt, my phone rang and I picked up to hear my mother in a slight panic. When I hadn't called her around our usual time, it must have freaked her out.

And somehow we made it from the topic of calming her down to explaining where I was and why I didn't call, and that I'd met someone. I talked around him for a moment before deciding to give up and in to my mother's questions. I heard my voice go dreamy, but I didn't have the heart to school it and not let on to my mother how infatuated I was.

And then I dropped all pretence and just started talking about how wonderful Kurt is.

"I'm glad, honey," her voice coming through the line, "What did you say his name was?"

I smile, and I can feel the force of it splitting my face, "Kurt."

There's silence for a moment, and when my mother's voice comes back, it's stressed, concerned, with a touch of confusion, "Kurt?"

I'm too lost in his name to really pay much attention to the change in her voice, and I figure I'll call her on it later. I know how she gets, and she's probably just worrying that I'll get my heart broken. "Yeah," I answer, "And at the risk of seeming cliché, and like every rom-com, he's… I don't know, mom. There's just something about him."

She doesn't respond, and after a minute I hear a small sniffle, and her voice is thick when she answers, "That's great, Blaine."

"Mom… Are you crying?"

There's a pause, and then, "I just realized that I've made some mistakes in my life."

A flare of anger licks through my body before I can contain it, and I'm not sure what she's referencing, maybe dad or something else, but I can't help the slight edge in my voice, "That's what you're thinking about right now?"

But she doesn't reply to that, she simply says, "I'm just so happy for you." And despite the thickness in her voice, I can tell it's sincere.

"Thanks mom," I reply, and I find it too hard to be angry with her right now when I can still taste Kurt on my lips.