Sunday morning was another lazy, late start. Blaine’s body was still recovering from the party, and that alone was enough to make him not want to drink again for a good long while. Most of the morning was spent cleaning the house. Santana had spent most of Saturday in bed, or on the couch, or just in general laying around, but they’d made a deal that on Sunday they would for sure get the house back to its natural state.

Blaine wanted to ask her so many questions. She’d been dismissive of almost all things regarding Friday night, which wasn’t entirely like her.

“Santana?” He paused in his methodical wipe down of the counter as he heard her come into the kitchen. “When you came into my room the other night, um, was Kurt there?”

Part of him hated having to ask her most things, because he knew there was a good chance that she would turn his question into something she could use as fodder against him. That was why he always hesitated, took the time to think through if he really wanted to know something badly enough. The problem was that when it came to questions about Kurt, the answer was always yes.

“Yeah, he was,” she said, annoyance clear in her tone. “I kicked him out, though.”

“You did what?”

“What? You were passed out and he was creeping. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Santana,” Blaine sighed, rubbing his face. “He wasn’t... I doubt he was creeping...”

“I know what I saw,” she said airily. “So I kicked him out.”

“Did you stay in my room to keep him out?” he asked, the wheels in his head starting to turn. Nothing but silence in response from his roommate. “Santana!”

“What? It’s not like I had anything else to do,” Santana snapped. “Brittany went off with some guy, so maybe I didn’t want to be alone and you, Louis Braille, were my only option.”

“Now who was creeping?” Blaine mumbled.

“Forget it,” Santana muttered, and he reached out to grab her arm before she could storm out but all he got was air. Footsteps pounded the familiar path up the stairs and a door slammed.

It wasn’t often that Blaine ventured to the upstairs of the house. Santana’s room was there, and a small bathroom, and some storage space, but not much else. She liked her privacy and he was more than happy to give it to her most of the time. Except not then.

If there was one thing he’d learned from living with Santana, and he had learned a lot of things, it was that she didn’t admit to weakness or emotions that weren’t centered around anger or snark. Her saying that she hadn’t wanted to be alone, that was something that threw up red flags all over the place. That’s why Blaine made his way up the stairs and into her room without knocking.

“Go away.” Blaine tripped over a shoe as he moved toward her, but he caught himself before he fell. “For fuck’s sake, you clumsy ass...”

“I’m not clumsy,” he said defensively, cautiously making it the rest of the way before sitting on the edge of her bed. “Maybe if your room wasn’t like a minefield...”

“Yeah, well I told you to go away, so that’s what you get,” she spat out at him, but there was no real venom behind her words. He could feel her pulling away back into herself, shutting him out. His hand slid across the comforter and searchers her out, ignoring how she swatted it away and grabbing onto her hand.

“San,” he started, scooting up closer to her. “What’s going on?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she muttered, but she didn’t pull her hand away. Blaine took that as a small victory.

“Liar.”

“Asshole.”

“Am not,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. “Want to talk about it?”

“Was I not clear when I said for you to go away?”

“I was getting some mixed signals.”

“Maybe if your eyes worked you wouldn’t be,” she said. “Because you would clearly be able to see how much I don’t look like I’m in a talking mood.”

“Fine, have it your way.” He moved to get up off the bed, but her grip on his hand tightened.

“I don’t want to talk,” she said quietly, and he could tell the effort she was taking to actually say the words, and especially say them in a non aggressive way. “But maybe you could stay.”

“Alright.” He settled back down on the edge of the bed, but she tugged him down until they were laying beside each other. Their shoulders and arms were pressed together, hands still intertwined, and she shifted her leg over so it was touching his too. “Are you okay?”

“No talking.” She laced their fingers together and let out a sigh. Blaine stayed quiet, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing next to him.

Time stood still, or at least it felt like it did. It was silent in the room, save for their breathing, and the only other movement was in the occasional flexing of Santana’s hand in his. He was half convinced that she’d fallen asleep, and maybe she had. He considered leaving, except she’d wanted him there. After her letting him stay, essentially asking him to say in her own way, he didn’t want her to wake up alone. Except then his phone went off down in his room, and he could faintly hear it.

The second time it went off, Santana groaned. “Go. I’m fine, just go.”

“Let me know if you want to talk later, or just, whatever,” he said, giving her hand a light squeeze before letting go and getting out of bed. It took him a minute to get back to the door, not wanting to trip over anything else, and he made his way downstairs and back to his room. His phone started ringing again, Kurt’s name coming through, and he grabbed it quickly to answer. “Hello?”

“Oh there you are,” Kurt said, and Blaine couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “I swear I wasn’t going crazy and calling you a million times, I just kept forgetting to leave a message.”

“Well now you don’t have to,” Blaine said.

“Very true. I’ve never had to leave a message before, you’ve always just answered right away.”

“Yeah sorry, I was... with Santana.”

“Ah.”

“She’s having a rough day,” Blaine offered in some semblance of an explanation. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“Are you busy?”

“What, right now?” Blaine asked, and Kurt gave a soft ‘mhm’ in response. Even if he hadn’t spent close to an hour laying up in the silence of Santana’s room and had actually been doing something, he was sure he still would have had the same answer. “No, why?”

“You should come hang out with me then,” Kurt said, causing a quick thrill to run through Blaine. “And bring your piano playing fingers.”

“Are you going to sing for me?”

“That’s the deal, right?”

“Right.” Blaine ran his hand along his shirt, trying to remember what he was wearing. “Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll meet you halfway and we can head the rest of the way together?”

“That sounds perfect,” Blaine said, trying to ignore how his pulse had quickened.

“See you soon!”

There was a moment of panic where Blaine considered changing everything he was wearing. He wanted to look nice, but he also knew it would take him too long to change and considering how he already felt flustered, odds were that he’d end up mismatched and much worse off than he’d started. Besides, Kurt had seen him in just jeans and a t-shirt the day before. Kurt had seen him passed out drunk, even. His current clothes would be fine.

The corner where Java Central was located wasn’t exactly halfway, but that’s where Kurt was waiting for him. They walked to the fine arts building, and Kurt checked the schedule on the door before letting them into the auditorium.

“There are usually recitals on weekend nights,” he explained as they went down the aisle and up to the stage. “Thankfully no one wanted to do their recital on the first weekend of the semester.”

“I like playing in here better than anywhere else,” Blaine admitted. Knowing he was on a stage, it made it easy to pretend like he was actually performing and not just playing to himself. It had always been a bit of a dream to perform for real, on an actual stage with an actual orchestra, and even though he knew he was the only one there when he would play before, he could pretend and make the most of what was left of that dream, which usually stayed tucked away back in the very back of his head. The acoustics in the auditorium were better than any practice room, too, but that was to be expected.

“It’s a good space,” Kurt agreed, letting Blaine and Roscoe go ahead of him on the few steps to get up to the stage. Blaine slid onto the bench and Roscoe settled in under the piano like he always did. Kurt sat beside him, hesitating as he lifted the lid off the keyboard. He sounded nervous when he spoke. “No judging my piano skills.”

“Never,” Blaine said, nudging his shoulder gently. He wanted to think that made Kurt smile, but he supposed he would never know if it had. Kurt didn’t say anything, just started playing soft chords to accompany himself. When he started singing, though, Blaine realized he never could have prepared himself for it.

Oh yeah, I'll tell you something
I think you'll understand
When I'll say that something
I wanna hold your hand...

Kurt’s voice was beautiful, clear and pure, exactly how Blaine had imagined it would be except so much more. It was entrancing in a way that made Blaine feel like he was staring, except that wasn’t physically possible. He didn’t even hear the song, the words, register what it was, he was so lost in how Kurt sounded and how he knew he could happily listen to him sing for hours and never get tired of it. Except then he started to pay more attention, and the words slipped into focus, and Blaine could feel himself starting to flush lightly.

Oh please, say to me, you'll let me be your man... The arrangement had been so different than the original, not at all in the same style, it had caught him off guard. It was slower, sweeter, accompanied by quiet chord progressions with little ornamentation. Everything about it made him want to gather Kurt up into his arms and hold onto him.

And when I touch you I feel happy inside... Blaine slowly ran his palms over the tops of his legs, trying to make sure they weren’t sweaty like he felt they probably were. He wasn’t sure if Kurt knew quite how much it meant to him, to hear him sing. Even if it was just a randomly chosen song, even if it didn’t actually mean anything and he was reading way too far into it, it was still Kurt giving him a window to look into and see more of himself. That was what music was, at least so far as Blaine was concerned.

There was a long pause as Kurt came to the end of the song, his voice trailing off with perfect vibrato as the chord from the piano reverberated in the air around them. His foot stayed on the pedal, almost like he was scared to release it, worried for the moment to come to an end. Blaine sat quietly, waiting, listening as Kurt took in a deep breath next to him. He turned slightly, and carefully moved to cup the side of Kurt’s face in his hand. He reached his neck first and slid his hand up, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbone, and if Kurt hadn’t already taken his breath away with his song it would have been gone all over again.

“Kurt...” Blaine barely had a chance to breathe out his name before Kurt closed the gap between them, pressing a kiss against his lips, and Blaine could have sworn the room spun around them.

It was a brief kiss, short and sweet, but that didn’t stop it from being the most incredible few seconds of Blaine’s life. Kurt’s lips were warm, so soft pressed against his, and slightly damp like he’d licked them just before leaning in. It wasn’t the physical feel of it that got to Blaine as much as everything else. The way a rush had run through his entire body, almost like a shudder but without any actual movement. It felt like his nerves were on fire, and in the best possible way. Whatever he’d imagined his first kiss would be like, that hadn’t been it. He never could have imagined something that intensely wonderful even if he had the biggest imagination in the world. It had been so much more, and over so quickly.

There was a pause, a moment of them both taking a breath and sitting and feeling the way the air between them seemed thick with tension and the want for more. Blaine’s thumb ran over Kurt’s cheekbone, earning a soft hitch in Kurt’s breath, and that was all the encouragement he needed to lean in and kiss him again. The second time was just as electric as the first, and Kurt’s hand moved around to the back of Blaine’s neck almost instantly. It was a reassurance, that they both wanted the same thing. Kurt captured his lower lip between his own briefly before pulling back, a gesture that made Blaine feel like he was dizzy all over again, and then rest their foreheads together.

“You move me, Kurt.” They were words that had run through his head and somehow made their way out through his mouth. He didn’t even realize he’d spoken out loud until he felt Kurt’s thumb rubbing against the back of his neck in response. Honestly, he didn’t know if he’d be able to say anything more truthful about how he was feeling than that, so many it wasn’t a bad thing that the words had slipped out before he’d noticed. He knew he was blushing, but for once he didn’t care. “That was... thank you.”

“Now you owe me a song,” Kurt said softly, and Blaine didn’t think he was imagining the slight breathlessness in his voice. He was glad for the slight teasing of the statement, though, keeping him from over thinking the moment.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” he whispered, trailing his fingertips along Kurt’s jaw and trying to keep himself from just touching even more. He wanted to cup his face in both his hands and memorize the feel of it under his fingertips, to kiss him again and for longer so he could feel the touch of their lips together long after they were done. “I can’t think piano when my head is fuzzy.”

“Your head is fuzzy?” Kurt asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Your fault,” Blaine shot back, a smile tugging at his lips. He could feel the hot huffs of Kurt’s breath against his face, playing across his lips, and it just reminded him how close they were. How all he had to do was lean in a little and he would be able to kiss him again. Amazing how something he hadn’t experienced until minutes, moments before, was something he found himself completely addicted to. Then again, maybe it was the Kurt part of kissing that was so intoxicating and making him want more.

“I think I’m okay with taking the blame for that.” Kurt’s lips brushed against his so lightly that Blaine thought he’d imagined it at first, his breath catching in his throat. His hand slipped from where it’d been resting on his jaw as Kurt pulled away, and he felt himself blush a little deeper as Kurt’s fingertips trailed along the side of his face before moving away. There was no way that had helped his head get less fuzzy, but he wasn’t about to complain.

He swallowed hard and turned back to the piano, rubbing his hands over the tops of his legs again as he tried to think clearly. Tried to keep his hands from trembling. Kurt had kissed him. It was like his head had just caught up to the rest of his body. His heart was racing, pounding against his ribcage so hard he felt like it might burst. Kurt’s hand smoothed over his back hesitantly and Blaine felt calmer under his light touch. They just sat there in silence for a few minutes as Blaine breathed deeply, talking himself into the thought that he was perfectly capable of being kissed and then still functioning.

His hands shifted up to the keys, and he scooted up to the edge of the bench. He needed to put a little distance between himself and Kurt if he was going to keep his head straight. If he was going to keep up his end of the bargain, which he pretty much had to do because Kurt had given him so much, he needed his head to be straight. Kurt moved further away, giving him more space. Blaine could feel himself breathing easier, and he had better access to the piano in front of him. His energy, all built up inside of him like a tightly wound coil, needed an outlet.

Maybe that was why he chose the piece he did, fast and frantic and exactly the distraction he needed from the emotions coursing through his body. Plus it was long enough of a piece to give him time to calm down, relax a little, stop thinking about anything but the music for several minutes. His hands were steady, unfaltering as his fingers danced across the keys. It was harder to lose himself in what he was doing with the knowledge that Kurt was sitting right there beside him. Kurt who had sung so beautifully and heartfelt and completely taken his breath away and kissed him.

“You’re incredible,” Kurt murmured when he was finished, before the final notes had died off in the air around them. Blaine gave a half-shrug, but Kurt put his hand on his shoulder to stop the movement. “No, you are.”

“Thanks,” Blaine said, hands pulling back from the keys so he could rub at his face.

“I hope this doesn’t sound horrible,” Kurt started, and Blaine felt his heart sink before he had the chance to continue. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I just don’t understand how you do that.” Blaine tilted his head. Whatever horrible thing he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that.

“Do what?”

“Play like that,” Kurt went on quietly, and he was doing that thing again where Blaine could hear him picking and choosing his words. “I can play simple things and maybe get away with barely any mistakes, but you can play like that and you might have made a mistake but I definitely didn’t notice, and you...”

“...can’t see?” Blaine supplied. Kurt sucked in a breath next to him, and Blaine could almost feel him nodding. “Kurt, if you think that’s a horrible thing to say...”

“Well it feels like a horrible thing.”

“It’s just a fact,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I’m blind, it’s who I am.”

“No,” Kurt cut in, and Blaine’s hands dropped to the piano, accidentally hitting the keys in surprise with how forceful he sounded. “Blaine, that is not who you are. It’s a part of you, yes, but there is so much more to you than just that.”

That stopped Blaine completely in his tracks. He was so used to people categorizing him, easily casting him aside as ‘that blind guy’ and nothing else, and that was it. When people got to know him more, that was different, but the initial snap judgement always stayed. It was the most noticeable thing about him, he wasn’t going to pretend that it wasn’t. He didn’t hold it against anyone, at least not that much, because it was just how things were. It was easier if he let it be. “Kurt...”

“Blaine, you’re incredible. Not just at this, but in general. It’s just that this is so amazing. Watching your hands, your fingers,” Kurt took his hands, his thumbs rubbing over the backs of them. “It looks like the most natural thing in the world, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. There’s not much that could make me look away from your face when you play, but somehow you managed to do that because I could never imagine being able to play like you do. You’re mesmerizing.”

The last words were said in a whisper, and Blaine’s hands twitched slightly in Kurt’s. He was so used to people not seeing him, the sentiment of which he fully understood the irony. Kurt was like a constant breath of fresh air, surprising him at every turn. It was just that Blaine didn’t always know how to respond to him, didn’t know what to say or do. He ducked his head down a little, biting the inside of his lip as he tried to think. “Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“You’re seriously one of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” he said quietly, squeezing his hands. He couldn’t quite get over how natural and right it felt to be sitting there, holding Kurt’s hands. “I know this probably sounds weird, but I feel like you... see me better than anyone else. The real me, anyway. That’s kind of... well, it can be kind of scary but it’s not with you because you’re this sweet, amazing person who sees me and doesn’t get distracted by all my weirdness.” He chewed on his lip, trying to fight off the urge to bolt that seemed to rise up inside of him. It’s not like he could get far fast, or like Kurt couldn’t follow him, but still. “I’m just really glad you found me.”

“Blaine, you’re not weird,” Kurt murmured, and Blaine felt himself blush deeper. “You’re always saying that you are, or that I might think things you say or do are, but none of it is.” There was a slight hesitation, and then a kiss pressed against his cheek. “I’m glad I found you, too.”

Later that night, Blaine found himself sitting in front of his computer, hands hovering over the keyboard and trying to find the words to type. The assignment for his Relationships and Dialogues class had seemed simple upon first glance. He was supposed to write a short essay talking about a movie, quote, book, or song lyric that stood out to him, and he’d been dead set on typing up a paper about Love, Actually and how it was one of his favorite movies. Besides, it definitely fit the theme of the class considering how many different relationships were throughout, all intertwining and going their separate ways all at the same time.

Except then Kurt had sung to him and he couldn’t get that out of his head. At the risk of being a complete sap, and perhaps a little too invested in the moment, he switched his topic. He couldn’t help it, though. He was stuck with Kurt’s voice running through his head, and if he thought a little extra hard, he could even feel the ghost of a press of Kurt’s lips against his. The way he had the first time he’d kissed him there in the auditorium, the same way he’d kissed him after he’d walked with him back to the house and kissed him on the porch before saying goodbye and heading back to campus.

It’s a funny thing how different songs mean different things to different people. Take, for example, ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ by the Beatles. To most people it’s romantic, sweet, maybe even seen as a pure expression of innocent desire. After all, songs these days are all about much more intense wants. All you have to do is turn on the radio to hear song after song about sex, desires, wants… nothing nearly as seemingly minor as hand holding.

Call me old fashioned but to me, there’s nothing sexier than the brush of fingertips against each other. Maybe it’s because I have very limited experience, but I get a thrill every time my hand is held. That might be something that happens to everyone at first, and then as time goes on and hands are held more often it goes away, but I hope that never happens to me. I love that something so small, so insignificant to so many people, means so much to me.

Part of it might be because of how much I rely on touch. Losing my sight was never something I had planned for or even imagined happening. It’s an adjustment, having to rely on your other senses so much more. For me, the biggest one is touch. Sometimes that can be a detriment, if I’m not expecting it for instance. It’s so much easier to be caught off guard, and even the faintest unexpected touch can put me on edge depending on the situation. I never used to be this jumpy, either. Amazing how times change.

Holding hands, though, that’s where it is for me. Fingers laced together and that reassuring pressure of a palm against my own. It’s a personal connection and such a simple one, but it is so much more. Hugs, kisses, sex, they’re all wonderful of their own accord – or at least so I’ve heard, as I definitely have not experienced all of them personally. Yes, those are personal connections, very clearly so. How often do people kiss almost strangers, though? One night stands exist and happen frequently, or so I’ve heard. These are all moments of physical intimacy between people, but nothing that seems quite as personal as holding hands. How often do you hear of strangers doing that? I’m not saying that I’d say no to any of those things, definitely not, but I think I could be quite happy for a long time as long as I had someone’s hand in mine.