Chapter 9

The celebrations over their win at Regionals carried on for the next two weeks. Revelling in their euphoria, actually practising took a back seat, the group often breaking into as many renditions of New York New York as they could possibly come up with.

And Kurt was there. Sometimes. He still refused to come to after school practice or involve himself too much, but it was more than he used to. He didn't just sit at the piano any more, watching in what would be silence if not for his laughter. Brittany had pulled him up and spun him around one or two lunch times and he'd gladly joined in.

Their sessions in the auditorium continued as normal after Regionals, and Blaine had asked, as carefully as he could, if Kurt wanted to go to Glee with him. His thoughts were still on those booklets he'd shown Kurt all those weeks ago, and the tiny steps they had to take before he could mention them again.

Kurt shook his head, arms tucked around himself protectively.

"Not yet," he told him, with a weak smile. "I'm enjoying this. I love spending time with you all but..." He paused, gesturing uselessly in front of himself. "The thought of going is actually daunting."

He found his hand leaning to grip Kurt's more often than he should, and sometimes he wondered if he really did it for Kurt, or for himself.

March rolled into April, the weather warmer and days longer, before he finally pulled up enough grit to ask Kurt what was really on his mind.

"Are you and Santana alright?" he ventured one afternoon, leaning against their lockers.

"What?" Kurt demanded, head snapping up. "What makes you say that?"

I'm talking about the way she's been glaring daggers at me the past few weeks. I'm talking about how she looked like she was about to burst into tears when you blanked her at Regionals. I'm talking about how she's been silent in Glee Club and how you haven't talked to her during lunch times.

"Nothing," he settled on.

Kurt turned slightly frosty towards him for the rest of the afternoon, and he waited in the auditorium after school, wondering if he'd even show.

He did, shuffling in, cane held out in front, small frown twisting to force back what Blaine guessed would be tears as he slumped into the piano stool and immediately started playing.

Curling up on the floor against the stool almost automatically, he glanced up to watch Kurt play a slow, sad melody from beneath his fingertips. It was beautiful. In a hollow way. Hollow in the way Kurt's face bore no emotion, lips pulled into a full line, eyebrows knitted in only concentration.

When the song came to a close, Blaine lifted his hand up and tugged Kurt's arm, who looked down at the pull, expressionless face now turned into something more sombre.

"What happened?"

Kurt sighed deeply. "I don't really know. I got upset with her and... I said something about her and Britt."

"Oh."

"Oh," he echoed, without emotion.

They hadn't ended up getting much practice done for the rest of the session, talking idly as Kurt played some more melodies on the piano.

When he pulled up to pack away the music they hadn't even used, Kurt gripped at his sleeve.

"Do you want to come over to my house on Saturday?" he smiled, managed with a little force. "Dad and Carole are out until late and Finn's over at Puck or Quinn's. Either way," he raised his eyebrows, grin widening, "perfect for playing musicals very loudly."

Blaine smiled back, the earnest look on Kurt's face pulling at him.

"That sounds great," he answered genuinely. "Musical day it is then."

"Bring your copy of Les Mis," Kurt told him. "Rachel stole mine."

"Get it back off her," Blaine laughed, shaking his head.

"It's not that easy," Kurt groaned. "It's in her clutches and she'll never let go."

When he did turn up on Saturday morning, he'd had to knock very briefly so the coat pulled over his head and the DVDs clutched to his chest wouldn't spill from his hands as he sheltered himself from the torrential rain.

The door was flung open as quickly as his hand left it, dragging himself in, his coat dropping to the floor with a damp smack. Water dripped down from his clothes, his pants sodden through, leaving puddles across the floor of Kurt's hall.

"Don't worry about the mess," Kurt insisted, hands ghosting over Blaine's before taking the DVDs off him. "I've laid you some clothes out in case you were soaking." He directed Blaine towards his bedroom, with a small smile, before he disappeared around the corner into the kitchen.

He rolled up his pant legs, so he wouldn't drip over the carpet as he made his way to Kurt's room, dirty water stinging his ankles. The door to Kurt's room was already ajar, a pair of sweat pants and a white t-shirt folded on his bed. He pulled his jeans off with some effort as they clung to him. Throwing them over the radiator, he moved to Kurt's bed and tugged on his pants, which hung over his feet he noted, rolling them up.

Leaving the t-shirt on the bed, his own still relatively dry, he made his way downstairs, the hall now clean of puddles, the kettle boiling in the kitchen.

"Hey," he greeted Kurt, turning into the room. Kurt was leaning on his elbows against the worktop, chin resting on his knuckles, a small quirk at his lips.

"Hi," Kurt replied, tilting his head a little. "Are you dry?"

"Slightly more, yeah," Blaine laughed, pulling out two mugs from the cupboard and searching for the tea bags. "I hate the rain," he added, mugs clicking against each other as he poured in the water.

Kurt shifted up, eyebrows raised, head cocked. "You do?"

"Is that so surprising?"

Kurt shrugged, lips twisting into a small frown. "You just strike me as one those people who love rain."

Blaine threw his head back and laughed, spoon spun idly in one of their mugs. Of course he would give that impression, Blaine Anderson, the happy kid who finds everything in the world wonderful. His eyes flickered to glance out the window, grey clouds tumbling over ahead, rain falling harshly against the windows and roof with a rhythmic pattering, falling quickly into the pools of water in Kurt's backyard.

"I love it," Kurt said quietly, the sound of the spoon clinking against the mug no longer the only sound between them. Blaine's brow creased, but a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

"Why?" he asked when Kurt didn't continue.

"Why not?"

Blaine froze briefly, gaze drifting out through the window, to the dark and miserable puddles across the ground and lifting to the overcast sky.

It was dark and it was miserable and it was the opposite of the bright colours Blaine loved so much. When his eyes turned back to Kurt, he was leaning with his back against the worktop, knowing smile, eyebrow curved.

He didn't answer, and Kurt sighed, pulling himself up until he was rocking on his feet.

"Do you not think it's beautiful?" he asked, a curious whim to his voice.

"I thought you didn't like grey things?" Blaine reminded him. "Rain's grey. It's dark. Depressing."

"Not always," Kurt pointed out, fingers lacing neatly together. "It can sometimes be beautiful weather when it rains. Not when it's like this, I know," he waved his hand towards the window where the rain was pattering across. "But it's beautiful, can't you tell?"

Blaine paused, shifting his stare outside the window, and he shrugged, humming his disagreement. Kurt's shoulders slumped and he moved towards Blaine, reaching his hand across to find Blaine's and clasping them together.

"Come on," he insisted. "I'll show you." He pulled him roughly, keeping one hand on the worktop to guide him until it ended, fingers then brushing along the short piece of wall until they met the window of the back door, their tea left by the kettle untouched. He fumbled with the key jammed in the lock until it clinked and the door creaked open, a soft spray of rain falling down inches away from them.

A chill breezed in and goosebumps prickled down his arms. A splatter of water sprayed across as Kurt leaned forward and held a hand out, turning so the rain ran across the back of it and along his fingers, dripping to the ground. Blaine watched, an eyebrow lifting as he leant out another hand and cupped them so water pooled in his hands, until he let it fall to the ground and repeated the action.

Blaine dragged his eyes transfixed to Kurt's hands away and glanced up to his face, mouth settled into a sad smile that still looked so inherently happy, as if he was locked in a memory. As odd and as almost heartbreaking as it was, Kurt had never looked so peacefully beautiful.

He shook himself suddenly, pulling himself next to Kurt, shaking away the rush of blood to his head and following Kurt's lead, holding his hands out. Kurt's grin grew a little wider as he felt Blaine brush against his shoulder.

The water that ran down his hands was warm, trickling along his fingers until the droplets fell from them, into the puddles below the door.

He pulled his hands away, wiping them on his jacket but Kurt's remained stuck out, turning over once again, some drops running in wild patterns along the palm of his hand.

"See how beautiful it can be?" he smiled.

Blaine hummed but the sound was lost as a distant clap of thunder sounded.

"Still," he said as Kurt pulled his hands back inside, drying them on his jacket, "What about what you said about colour? I thought the weather you'd love would be something you could imagine the bright colours of."

Kurt's face remained blank, crease in his brow softening, head tilted so it faced outside.

"It's not something to do with... this," he raised a hand lazily to indicate his face. "I've always loved the rain." He paused, leaning back against the worktop, Blaine mirroring the movement against the wall behind him. Kurt curled his head around and smiled. The same eerily sad one he'd worn minutes before.

"It reminds me of my mom," he admitted, voice steady and gentle. There was nothing Blaine could think to say but a soft "Oh" and Kurt's head shifted again so it was turned to the side once more.

"She told me these stories," Kurt told him, fingers curling together in front of him. "Have you heard any Native American stories?"

"I can't say I have," he answered, leaning a little bit further in, in curiosity.

"Well, my mom used to tell me their stories," he smiled softly. "And the one about rain was always my favourite." He paused again, thumb running along his knuckles as he grazed over his bottom lip with his teeth carefully.

"My mom used to tell it," he started off, "by saying there was this Great Spirit who created man, and wanted all his creations to live in peace together." He lowered his head slightly, furrowing his forehead, disdain at how silly a notion that was.

"Anyway," he carried on, hand darting out to feel the rain again, "The story tells of warring tribes, and how the adults there became so enraged with one another, they banned their children from playing with each other."

He caught himself for a second, bringing his hand back from outside.

"One girl, though, couldn't obey, because she was very much in love with a boy she had been friends with her whole life," he let out a sad smile, his voice soft and musical in the way he told the story. "She couldn't stand the thought of never seeing him again and she tried to explain it to her parents. They ignored her, threatening the boy's life and promising her to another man in their own village."

He took a breath, Blaine not missing the emotion hidden behind his blank expression. Or the memories of his mother reading him bedtime stories hidden behind it too.

"And now desperate, she ran away, begging the boy she loved to go with her. They ran off together, not until later realising they had nowhere else to go. And that they could never return home."

Blaine leant towards Kurt, slightly, attention on nothing else- the rain now hardly even a background noise, even though it came down just as fast.

"The girl's parents soon found them, the father tried to kill the boy though he knew his daughter had left willingly. And without thinking, the girl jumped in front of the boy and an arrow pierced through her heart. Before she died, she told the boy she would always love him, and before anyone could stop him he stabbed himself through the heart too."

He reached out his hands again, catching the rain on his fingers.

"And, then, the skies went dark and the sun was gone. Lightning struck through the sky, thunder crashed across the land, awful rains pouring from the heavens. It became impossible to see, and by the time it had died down, the young girl's father saw the children's bodies were gone."

"That's a heart breaking story," Blaine cut through, voice cracking.

Kurt shrugged. "It's my preferred version of Romeo and Juliet. Knowing someone for years is a little more realistic than three days." He paused for a long second before a short laugh escaped.

"Not that it's realistic. The point of the story is meant to be that the 'Great Spirit' had its heart broken, that to this day, when it rains, it is its tears, there to remind us of our jealousy and hatred and what it can do. My mom always said that meant we had to look for the beauty in it too. That we can see love and devotion even when it seems like there is none."

He ducked his head, and Blaine's arm jolted, wanting to lean across and grip Kurt's arm, or hand, or just his shoulder.

But then Kurt shifted up, head tilted to face outside, and Blaine brought his hand back to his side.

"And I don't believe in a God, and I know rain is a lot more scientific than that," he finished with a short laugh. "But I always thought it was quite beautiful."

Blaine's eyes followed the line of Kurt's jaw, the curve of his nose, with his face still turned so Blaine could only take in his side profile, though his soft smile made him look a lot younger than he usually did.

"It is," he breathed, throat dry, heart beat pulsing in his temples as Kurt turned his head to smile, unable to remember that they'd been stood as close together as this.

Kurt bit his smile down and reached forward, fingers locking with Blaine's.

"Let's go play," he laughed, jerking Blaine's hand towards him and jumping carefully from the door into the yard, Blaine stood waiting for a second before he followed the pull of Kurt's hand.

"Kurt, our drinks-" he started, but he was cut off as he stumbled after Kurt until they rammed to a stop, Kurt spinning around, slightly breathless and giddy.

Rain soaked his hair through, running down his cheeks, collecting in his glasses, keeping his fingers locked tightly in Blaine's. He giggled, pulling at Blaine until their wet clothes brushed softly.

"Let's dance," he chuckled, bringing their hands up, loosening his grip on Blaine's other, placing one on his waist and spinning him once quickly before Blaine steadied them both, pulling his hands from Kurt's completely and gripping his waist.

"Kurt, stop," he said. "You'll catch a cold." He expected an argument, a line in his forehead and a complaint, but instead his lips curled, cheeks rising, raindrops catching in the corners of his mouth.

"No, but it's warm," he protested, giggling again. "Please."

Blaine dragged his eyes back along Kurt's face, to see him pull his glasses away and tuck them into his pocket. His eyes were only lightly shut, water now running along the bridge of his nose.

Blaine sighed, the eagerness of Kurt's request, begging him with a hopeful little smile, leaving him unable to say no.

His hands replaced themselves where they'd been and he turned Kurt slowly, eyes catching in the way his hair plastered itself to his face or how his drenched clothes were clinging to him, as were Blaine's.

Kurt tugged Blaine a little forcefully, indicating him to speed up.

"Why did you take off your glasses?" he asked a little breathily, turning them faster, feet splashing through the puddles and water leaking through to his socks.

"I couldn't feel the rain properly," he shouted over a low rumbling of thunder, smile gentle. He felt his own eyes drift shut, taking in the droplets running along his cheeks, his hair loosening, sticking against his face, water tingling as it ran from his hair down his neck. His shirt gripped to his skin, wet through with warm water, the splashes of puddles drowning their feet.

Their spins became less co-ordinated, until it felt like all they had been doing was kicking water at one another. His eyes flew open at Kurt's snorted laughter by his ear, colliding their chests together, his own chest hitching with each trembling laugh.

Kurt pulled himself up, gasping softly, balancing with hands braced on Blaine's shoulders. His eyes stayed closed, and droplets caught on his eyelashes. He studied over Kurt's face, drinking it in, one other rare moment to see as much now as he possibly could.

"This is fun," Kurt thanked him, a few words barely audible over the harsh winds and rain that cascaded from above them.

"You can..." Blaine swallowed, eyes flashing over Kurt's face. "You could open your eyes," he suggested, Kurt flinching and, though his fingers curled a little tighter, his hands staying on Blaine's shoulders. "I only mean... so you're more comfortable."

The constant flickering of Kurt's eyelashes and the twitch of his eyelids had given it away. It wasn't so easy, keeping eyes shut constantly.

He shook his head, small smile shot Blaine's way, arms slipping down to grip the front of his shirt, giving him a little shake.

"I'm fine," he insisted, through a shaky laugh. "It's okay. With my eyes closed, I'm fine. We can prete-" His voice broke, smile still intact, but his chin rising slightly, jaw set.

Blaine couldn't hear anything other than his own heart or the rain pouring down, throat tightening. He didn't need Kurt to finish that sentence.

We can pretend I'm normal.

Blood rushed through his ears, and he swallowed painfully, not knowing if he was blinking to keep rain from his eyes or for the burning in them to stop. His gaze lifted up to follow the line of Kurt's mouth to the bridge of his nose.

"You can trust me, you know," he whispered, a little thickly. Kurt's jaw softened, lips parting before pulling into a thin line, as he nodded. His hands, that Blaine had forgotten were curled in the front of his shirt, loosened their grip; Blaine shifted a little closer.

It was almost with an invisible pull, his hand drifting upwards, until it ghosted over Kurt's cheek.

"I know," Kurt said finally, leaning into the whisper of the touch, shivering in the rain. Blaine's eyes were glued to Kurt's closed ones, focused again on the small flutter of his eyelashes, as Kurt's hands drifted up. They skimmed over his shoulders and snuck around the back of his neck, until they threaded through his soaked hair, tugging softly through.

As mildly uncomfortable as it was being as drenched as he was and this wrapped up with Kurt, Blaine couldn't pull away. Shivering and warm all at once, his eyes were still locked on the trail of rain droplets running down Kurt's now relaxed jaw line.

"I didn't know your hair was so curly." He shivered, his tone flat, as though he wasn't concentrating on the words he was saying, attention turned to the tiny thumb stroke on his cheek deflecting water.

Blaine's breaths came out shallow with each rapid pulsing of his heart. A part of him yearned to pull back and stop poking at why he couldn't tear his eyes from Kurt's face, how his bangs dripped with water that then ran along his nose and fell off the end. Or the way drops slipped down his lips. The biggest part of himself yelled to not tilt his head up so he could feel Kurt's own quick breaths against his cheek, especially when Kurt's fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck.

His eyes drifted shut as he leaned in closer, careful and slow, hand twitching against Kurt's cheek, until he was sure Kurt could feel his breath tickle his lips.

With a crash of thunder, Kurt's fingers ripped from his hair, and he stumbled away. Blaine's eyes flew open, catching how Kurt's had for a slight second before he forced them shut.

"We should get inside," Kurt said stiffly, though his shoulders quivered.

"Kurt-"

"Please, Blaine," he croaked, Blaine hoping he'd imagined the slightly harsh tone in his voice. He reached his arms out for Blaine to take and, after a moment of hesitation, he held Kurt by the hand and led him inside, both dripping puddles along the tiled floor.