Chapter 4

Sometimes things in life just click. Things you struggled over for months suddenly make so much sense and those things you kept hidden don't seem so awful anymore. Smiling isn't something that makes your face ache, laughing isn't something to force out when really you'd rather wrap yourself up and cry.

When Blaine had finally accepted to himself who he was, it was like a weight completely lifted, and he remembered lying in bed looking up at the ceiling, laughing genuinely for what felt like the first time in a long, long time. Fighting with himself, convincing himself with lies, for years had been exhausting. And when he finally accepted it, realised it wasn't actually the worst thing in the world, smiling didn't seem so hard. It was the fighting that hurt, being ashamed of himself that frustrated him. So that night when he was fourteen, when he first let himself think about a man in that way and enjoy it- and when he came down afterwards- he told himself he'd never fight over what he wanted or who he was again.

It was why, despite a night at a Sadie Hawkins dance where his memories were ones he'd rather keep deeply buried, he didn't try and pretend to be someone different. It was why he'd joined a Glee Club after he transferred to Dalton. He had something to hide behind: a performing persona he could become, but the boys were accepting, not caring, even looking up to him. It was easier to be that person around them. Breaking down his walls and becoming the scared fourteen year old lying in sticky sheets, crying, wasn't an option. To them he was Blaine Anderson, brave and smart, and so very sure of himself.

And this was why, a month into his second year at Dalton, he walked into the living room and asked his parents if he could transfer back to public school.

The safety he had at Dalton was something he desperately wanted to cling on to. He didn't want to leave his friends, didn't want to leave the place he'd considered a home for the past year. But there was that part of him slipping away, he could feel it. It was exhausting trying to be perfect. In a perfect school. He was sure of himself now- sure that other people's comments wouldn't hurt him like they had when he was fifteen.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wanted a reaction from his parents, for them to argue with him before finally giving in. He'd be lying is he said he hadn't expected it either. But when he'd told them, his mother had looked right up at him, shock written all over her features, eyes wide and mouth open, and Blaine had thought for a moment she would say something. But then his father had interrupted.

"Anything you want Blaine," he said, barely looking up from his newspaper. "We want you to do whatever you want. If you think this is the right decision, we completely back you on it." He looked up to give a brief smile to his son, Blaine glancing at his mom to see what she would say. She was looking at her husband, her lips pulled into a tight line, before turning back to look at Blaine and giving a curt nod.

Of course, Blaine's parents let him go on his own way, make his own decisions, but they'd pretty much cut themselves out of his life to do so.

Learning to deal with this, he'd transferred after the Christmas holidays, subject to a lot of shocked and sad faces, and "But why, Blaine?" and "Where are you going to go?" questions when he'd left. He felt terrible for bailing on his friends, but he had to do this. He wouldn't let his fear hold him back again, and hiding away at Dalton was exactly that.

The last thing he had expected was to actually make friends at McKinley so quickly, not when making friends in the past had been so hard. He certainly hadn't expected to meet someone like Kurt, only halfway into his first day at a new school. Spending months worrying over moving to a new school, churning over thoughts of is this the right choice? What on earth am I doing? Why am I doing this again? when they turned out to be something lifted after only a day.

Sometimes things in life just click. So perfectly you wonder why you even worried over them in the first place.

He wasn't worried anymore. Not over his parent's lack of interest (or not for the moment at least), not over burly football players (they seemed to have been a bit better towards Glee since Saturday's game), not over petty glee club fights and not over Kurt. There was no reason to be worried about Kurt. Because Kurt Hummel didn't need someone else to worry about him. He didn't need anyone to worry about him.

He needed someone to help him, but he was to God damn proud to ask... or to even admit it.

When Blaine walked into the choir room the following Thursday, everyone was already there, turning instantly to look at him when he entered. He smiled at them all, but faltered when he saw their faces. Some of them sat, folded arms, brows furrowed in frustration and others watched Blaine steadily, almost tentatively.

It was Finn who walked up to him and stared him down, and despite how tall he was, how he towered over Blaine, he wasn't intimidated. But he got the impression he was meant to be.

"What's going on?" He looked around the room briefly, catching Santana's eyes for a second before she shifted her gaze somewhere else, her arms folded but not looking at Blaine the way everyone else was. Looking up at Finn, he raised his eyebrows in question. Finn sighed, rubbing his temple before answering.

"We have to talk," he said, and Blaine had gathered as much, so waited for him to expand, "About Kurt."

Oh.

Blaine swallowed and bit down on the inside of his lip. Trying to keep eye contact with Finn, he took a step back.

He cleared his throat. "What about... what about Kurt?"

"Don't act like you don't know, Blaine," Rachel cut in, stepping forward. "You need to stop asking him about Glee Club."

Blaine stared right at Rachel, shrugging his shoulders. "What about you? You're always asking him to join." Her face fell and she threw a quick look at Finn before answering.

"That's different," she insisted, staring right back, and it didn't matter if she was a foot shorter, she was just as- if not more- intimidating as Finn, and Blaine would rather have skulked to the back of the room than have this conversation with her. "I ask him sometimes but I don't keep going on at him like you are."

"I don't understand why what I'm doing is different to when you harp on at others when they refuse to join," Blaine shot back, wincing at the tone of his voice. He hadn't meant for it to come out so harsh.

"I don't-" she started, but Blaine cut across.

"Mike told me when Finn," he nodded at him, and Finn raised his eyebrows at the mention of his name, "left Glee last year, you wouldn't stop going on at him until he rejoined."

He didn't miss how Finn had moved back, leaving the argument between Rachel and Blaine. He was being ridiculous and Rachel must have thought so too as she threw an exasperated scowl towards him. Neither he nor Rachel had raised their voices, yet Finn looked as though he best get out the way.

"That was different," Rachel insisted. "I wasn't upsetting him by doing so, was I, Finn?"

Before Finn had to struggle out an answer, Blaine retorted, "Well, you probably made him uncomfortable."

"Like you're doing with Kurt?" Quinn pointed out. Blaine had hardly noticed she was in the room, wearing her normal clothes leaving her to blend in with the others now without her cheerleader's uniform.

"Well, I'm only doing what Rachel's done to Finn," he replied, looking at them all briefly seeing Santana's eyes were focused on Finn.

"Why is everyone making this about me?" Finn mumbled. "I said let's talk to him- not throw me in there."

Rachel folded her arms, turning her head up defensively.

"That's only because Finn is-" she started, but Blaine didn't want to listen, knowing already what she was going to say and not wanting to hear it.

"What?" he asked, raising his voice slightly. "He's not blind? He's not different? He doesn't need to be stepped around lightly because we aren't going to offend him if we don't?"

He looked around them all again, catching Artie's eye this time, and holding his gaze for a long second before turning to them all. He knew how stupid he sounded to them all. If only he could just sing about this, it would a lot less nerve wracking than talking to them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after they'd looked at him in silence for long enough, "I just wanted to help."

He moved to his seat, feeling their eyes on him again and when he glanced up as he sat down, he could see Artie looking at him like he wanted to say something, but then Mr. Schue had walked into the room and he closed his mouth. Blaine shot him a weak smile and then tried to concentrate on what Mr. Schue was saying.

Oh his way out, Artie grabbed him by the elbow, and he stumbled to a stop.

"I agree with you by the way," he smiled. "So does Brittany. I mean, she says it's because she really wants Kurt in the club but I get where you're coming from." Lifting his head up to quickly look at Brittany, who was talking to Santana on the other side of the room, he caught her eye and she waved brightly back at him. Feebly waving back, he turned to Artie.

"Thanks," he grinned, as they made their way out the room together. "Nice to know I have some people on my side." Artie cleared his throat, sounding, once again, stuck for something to say.

"Finn and Rachel care about Kurt a lot though," he told him, "Don't take it personally what they said." He turned on his wheelchair directly in front of Blaine, preventing him from moving any further. "Rachel tried ages ago to get Kurt to join and he got really upset with her. She's known him for a long time- since they were really young, I think. I don't think she's ever gotten over the fact that one day Kurt was fine and the next he..." his voice drifted off, unable to finish.

"Were they close?" Blaine asked, almost tentatively.

Artie shrugged. "I don't know. But I know she knew his mom pretty well." Blaine inhaled sharply. Kurt had never mentioned his mother, and Blaine had never asked. He knew his Dad was with Finn's mother, and had never brought up the topic of his own mom before.

"Do you know Kurt well?" He tried to sound like he wasn't deliberately changing the subject.

Beginning to spin on the spot again and carry on moving towards the exit, Artie replied, "The school tried to get us to hang out and talk to each other when I started last year. To talk about our experiences. Because we were both in accidents when we were young and I lost the use of my legs and he lost his eyesight. That's pretty much where similarities stop though. He told me he wasn't comfortable talking about it so we left it like that and haven't really spoken since."

Blaine nodded, holding on to the strap of his school bag, staring at his shoes. Artie turned off at the next corner and Blaine bid him goodbye as he carried on towards the library lost in thought.

There were times when Blaine would be dying to ask Kurt about how he'd lost his sight. The long pauses they had between them were usually filled with Blaine opening, and then swiftly closing, his mouth to try and ask, thankful Kurt couldn't see. He'd decided time and time again it wouldn't be fair to ask, even if he was dying to. Because not even Rachel really knew everything and she seemed to have known him the longest.

Kurt was tapping idly at one key on his laptop over and over, face pressed against his other hand.

"Bored are we?" Blaine asked, sneaking up behind Kurt and looking over his shoulder to see a word document page half filled with the letter 'B'. He shot up, shutting the laptop promptly, Blaine noticed covering the movement with a breathy laugh.

"Whoops," he giggled. Blaine smiled down at him, and squeezed his shoulder.

"Are you ready for some more math?" he asked, guessing that Kurt would groan before he did, his head collapsing into his folded arms as he slumped on the desk.

"Don't make me go," he mumbled into his sleeve.

"What if we go for coffee and study," Blaine suggested, "Coffee makes everything better."

"Even calculus?" he grumbled, lifting his head up.

"Even calculus," Blaine smiled, giving Kurt's shoulder another squeeze in mock support. "Come on, you can do this."

Kurt smiled up at him but his brow creasing. He fumbled with his laptop, trying to stand up. "Can we just get this over with?"

"You lied," Kurt muttered, elbowing Blaine playfully as they walked out the coffee shop. "Coffee didn't make Calculus better."

"That's because nothing makes calculus better," Blaine admitted. "Except my excellent company."

"You have a high opinion of yourself," Kurt snorted.

"I aim to please," he laughed in return, giving his arm a light squeeze. Kurt swallowed thickly before attempting to smile, worried it came out wrong. "So which way is it?" he asked, breaking the short silence.

"When we get to the next turning we go right," he replied, imagining Blaine was nodding along. "Thanks for this," he added. "I couldn't get home by myself without a few knocks and bruises... and you know, crossing the street would be difficult." He gripped onto Blaine's arm him to the side- "Sorry- trashcan."- letting himself stroke his thumb softly over his exposed wrist when his arm slipped. He sucked on his bottom lip, thinking of anything else but how warm Blaine felt pressed this close.

"Well, I hope Patti feels better soon," Kurt heard him reply, trying to concentrate on the steps he was taking at the same time as talking. "Left or right?"

He unlinked their arms and pointed in the direction with their entwined hands. "Left- No, she'll be fine. She's just under the weather and I didn't want her out in the cold." Blaine hummed in agreement, pulling Kurt in closer suddenly, linking his arm with his a little firmer. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Blaine muttered. "Just keep walking." Their footsteps more hurried, Kurt craned his neck to look over his shoulder, remembering with a pang that he wouldn't see whatever Blaine was trying to get away from.

But it all felt too familiar. He felt seven years old again, wondering why he was being pulled away so quickly when he didn't even realise anything was wrong. They hurried along in silence apart from a short direction question from Blaine, and once they'd turned, his arm relaxed in Kurt's and Kurt could almost feel tension rolling off his shoulders. He opened his mouth, ready to demand an answer when Blaine cut across. "Talk about it later. Let's get you home first." Giving a stiff nod in response, he let Blaine lead him.

Apart from asking "Which way now?" and short responses from Kurt every now and then, they walked in silence, Kurt's mind going over anything and everything he could say to break it.

"You should come over to my house some time," he told him, in a way just to break the tension, but hoping he'd accept.

"Really?" Blaine asked, voice brightening. Images of what his smile looked like flooded through Kurt's mind. Was it small and shy, or wide and toothy? Did he sometimes smile smugly at him or roll his eyes fondly as he grinned?

Once again reminding himself to stop wishing to know what those looked like on Blaine, he forced himself to answer.

"Yes, I'd love you to," he tried to sound bright about it, forcing a smile, although it felt more genuine after he heard Blaine laugh. "We've been hanging out for month and you've still not been around. My dad wants to meet you." Blaine pulled Kurt to a halt.

"Road," he informed him, before setting off again after, Kurt assumed, looking across the street, "And really? You talk about me a lot, do you?" he teased.

"All the time, obviously," he joked.

Blaine halted again, steadying Kurt before he tripped. "Sorry," he apologised quickly, "I'm just... looking at where we are." He paused a moment, Kurt feeling him shifting against his side as he guessed he was looking down the street. "What did you say your house number was?"

"415 Whitman Avenue," he replied shortly, "So do you want to come over then?"

"I'd love to!" Kurt heard the smile in Blaine's voice. "I think this is it." He stopped suddenly, steadying Kurt. "When would you like me to come over?"

Kurt realised he was his arm was still tightly linked with Blaine's, and that even though he didn't need to hold them there any more, neither of them were making a move to pull away. He knew he'd have to and walk up to his house but he didn't want to miss the warmth holding Blaine gave him. He felt Blaine's arm tighten round his while he waited for his response.

"Sunday?" he stuttered out. "I think Sunday's good for us. And Dad and Carole are making Sunday dinner. Oh, are you a vegetarian? Or allergic to anything?" He shut up the moment he realised Blaine was laughing at his excited rambling. Looking down at his shoes and scuffing the ground, he bit his lip. Maybe he should just shut up, maybe he should never open his mouth again, maybe that was the only way he wouldn't look like such an idiot.

"Sunday?" Blaine checked, a laugh still in his voice. "This Sunday?" Kurt nodded, tilting his head back up. "Well I definitely don't have anything to do then," he laughed again, and Kurt forced a smile, even though he wasn't exactly sure what was so funny, "So, sure. I can't wait." He squeezed Kurt's hand in what Kurt supposed was a way of telling him he was happy. "And no to both those questions," he added.

"Great," Kurt breathed, finally pulling his hand away. "I'll tell Dad and Carole."

He hesitated a moment, about to turn into the house and instead he moved forwards slightly, feeling out where Blaine was by placing his hands on his shoulders, and then wrapping his arms around his neck, Blaine returning the embrace. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, so he pulled away quickly, instantly missing Blaine's arms around his waist.

"Bye, Blaine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Kurt," he mumbled, with a breathy laugh as they fully broke apart.

It wasn't until Kurt was in his bedroom, with the door closed and his bag and coat hung up, that he realised the upcoming Sunday was February fourteenth, collapsing on his bed with a groan, muffled by his pillows as he wished the earth would stop waiting and just swallow him up before he made a bigger idiot out of himself.

It wasn't fair Blaine was so easy to like. It wasn't fair he could make Kurt feel so easy all the time, even when he brought up Glee club.

They hadn't talked about it since the previous week, both avoiding the topic until the other brought it up again. Blaine hadn't even mentioned it after the football game, when Kurt was so sure he would have. Instead he'd run up to Kurt cheering, "We won! We won, Kurt!" and then catching him in a tight hug, laughing like Kurt had never heard before. Soft and breathy and musical. And so happy.

He'd wondered if his hair was coming loose from the gel Santana said he always wore- or if he was even wearing it all because he'd been playing in the game for the first half with all the glee girls. He wondered if it was long enough so that it fell in his eyes when he laughed. He wondered if his eyes shone brightly, light dancing in them as he smiled. And he wondered what colour they were. More than anything that's what he focused on. Because they were something he never could see, not even if one day he was comfortable enough to lean across and feel Blaine under his fingers, he still couldn't begin to imagine his eyes.

He never asked what people looked like. He let his imagination carry him along, building from their personality, their voice, their laughter.

Other than his Dad, Finn and Carole were the only other people in his life that he knew exactly how they looked. He could imagine what an older version of the Rachel he could remember from years ago looked like if he tried hard enough.

And then there'd been Santana, who he'd waited two years to ask. Sat drinking coffee in his room while she described the dresses and outfits in Vogue to him. And he'd put his cup down a little too forcefully, trying to get out words stuck in his throat because he didn't think he could carry on not knowing much longer.

"Can I see you?" he'd asked. Santana had been very quiet. Unnerved because he couldn't hear a thing or even imagine what she was doing, he'd shuffled uncomfortably, unable to say anything until she did.

He'd heard her shuffling the magazine, putting it down and then crawling over to him. Placing her hand softly over his that lay folded in his lap, she'd whispered, "Are you sure?" She lifted his hand up slightly and waited for his answer.

He nodded stiffly and she moved his hand up until he was tracing her face with his fingertips. People said a lot about Santana Lopez, there were times when Kurt could come up with a few choice things to say about her, but he'd never forget how she'd been that day, making the awkward situation not just bearable but enjoyable. Sitting through Kurt's questions as he ran his fingers across her cheeks, her nose, and her lips- taking everything he could in- and she patiently sat while he asked her to do different facial expressions.

When they'd finished he'd muttered a thank you, still too embarrassed to look in her direction. He'd expected something sarcastic in response, something he could laugh off because that was what they'd built their relationship on. It was something Kurt appreciated deeply. Because, sometimes, most people thought twice, or wouldn't dare talk to him like Santana did. It was a trait he supposed made her so alike to Sue Sylvester, the Cheerleading coach.

But before she could say anything, before he could let her, something else slipped out.

"You really are very beautiful," and he'd heard a staggered breath, automatically looking in her direction when he did.

She leant in and brushed the hair off his face, and whispered back to him, "You are too, Kurt. I wish you could see it." Kurt ignored how she'd choked up. They never brought it up again. Kurt knew how equally hard walls were to build up and equally so to break down.

Kurt wouldn't say their relationship had changed. But something after that day was different.

And it only took two years, Kurt scoffed at himself.

And it was going that way with Blaine.

Except it hadn't progressed this fast with Santana, he reminded himself.

Kurt didn't even know if he could ever feel comfortable enough to know what Blaine looked like. Blaine, whose emotions were always so transparent, didn't keep any walls up around Kurt. Kurt wished he could keep his down as well as Blaine did.

He couldn't keep down his excitement for Sunday. If Blaine mentioned it, he'd start grinning and nodding, fidgeting with his hands under the table, bubbling over and rambling eagerly. Telling Blaine his parents were going to love him, because how couldn't they when he's so easy to like?

Not that he'd say that out loud.

By the time Sunday had come around, he was sat at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. He heard Carole pass him, humming, asking him quickly if he was okay. He nodded, still fidgeting while he waited for Blaine to come over.

"What time is it, Carole?" he called as she walked by.

"Quarter after eleven," she told him, "What time is your friend meant to be here?" It couldn't be more obvious she was grinning at him, the way she sounded so happy when she spoke to him. But then he supposed he couldn't be more obvious he was excited.

"Half past," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm. He ducked his head so she couldn't see.

She laughed as she walked past him, leaving Kurt to wait anxiously alone, drumming his hands on his knees and breathing slowly. He heard a loud groan from upstairs as Finn moved around the landing to get to the bathroom. It was silent before he heard a few more groans and the sound of his brother collapsing on the tiled floor.

"Finn?" he called up the stairs. Hearing a groan in response, he relaxed once he knew Finn was still conscious. "Are you okay?"

"Do I sound freaking okay?" he moaned, Kurt hearing a splash of water from the bathroom.

"Well that's what you get for kissing someone who has a boyfriend," Kurt snapped, as Finn turned the water off.

"Wait how did you-" he called down, panicked.

"Santana told me."

"Oh my God. She's such a-" he cut himself off, groaning again, Kurt hearing another splash of water as he assumed Finn dampened his face again. Kurt moved up off the staircase, unfolding his cane, and made his way towards the kitchen. Anything to get away from the retching noises from upstairs.

There was a knock at the door before he'd even had time to sit down. Clambering back out into the hall, already hearing other footsteps moving towards the front door, he felt the cool air against him as someone opened it, quickly followed by Blaine's voice, coming out breathily from the cold.

"Um... hi, Mr Hummel? Is Kurt in?" Kurt smiled, biting at his bottom lip. Blaine sounded so young; he could almost see him looking up at his dad with wide, scared eyes.

"Blaine, is it?" his Dad asked, which must have been replied with a nod from Blaine as Kurt listened in. "He's right here. Come on in, kid."

He heard footsteps as his Dad and Blaine moved around each other, Blaine's feet rubbing roughly against the door mat, and the wind outside caused Kurt to shiver before the door was finally shut, followed by soft laughter.

"Kurt!" Blaine greeted him brightly, causing Kurt to bite his lip down again before he grinned back at Blaine a little too enthusiastically. He bumped into him to hug him, hands brushing against Kurt's arms, Kurt flinching back at how icy they were against his skin. "Sorry, it's cold outside..."

"No kidding," Kurt remarked, frowning. "You need something warm in you," he added, reaching forwards and hoping he'd find Blaine's hand, which he did, and led him to the kitchen, ignoring how icy they were in his.

Half an hour later, spread out his bedroom floor with cups of coffee, Blaine was babbling happily about the past week in Glee, Kurt trying not to pull a face every time the topic of love songs came up. Blaine hadn't even started his coffee, he'd told Kurt after he'd already finished, telling him he was using the hot mug to warm his hands up. Smiling fondly at the image he could at least pretend to see, he pulled himself up off the floor to put his mug on his dresser.

"You know," Blaine began slowly. "That's amazing." Leaning back against his bed, Kurt sat back on the floor.

"You're going to have to be more specific," he joked, "There's a lot about me and my bedroom that's amazing."

Blaine chuckled, finally taking a sip from his coffee. "That is true," he agreed. Kurt waited for him to add something, hardly noting he was leaning towards Blaine while he did.

"I meant how you know where everything is," he continued, still speaking carefully, but there was something else in his voice that Kurt couldn't put his finger on-something close on admiration. "How you can get around everywhere and know where everything is. It's amazing."

"Actually, we've only lived here since after Christmas and I still don't know where the kitchen table is. I've stubbed my toe six times alre-"

"Kurt."

Kurt shut up, his mouth turning up to one side. "Thanks, Blaine," he mumbled, not really sure what to say.

"Blaine?" He raised his voice a little.

"Yeah," he responded after another sip of his coffee.

"Do you remember the other day when you walked me home?" He waited for an answer but could only hear a soft "Mmm" in reply. "When we started walking quickly and... did you see someone?"

Kurt could hear Blaine swirling the last of his coffee in his mug.

"Yeah," he admitted slowly. "Some football kids from school. But it was okay. I think they're laying off on the Glee kids for a while."

Kurt nodded, desperately wanting to ask why he'd wanted to get away so quickly if he knew they weren't going out for him any more. Or for a while at least. But the question died in his throat and he let it stay there.

"I have something for you," he heard a scuffle, Blaine moving along the carpeted floor and then a zip and him fumbling around with his bag.

"Blaine, why have you got me something?" he asked warily, moving over to where Blaine had crawled over to. Blaine's breath hitched and then something fell to the floor with a thump.

"Well, it's for both of use really," he admitted. "Go on- feel it." He took Kurt's hand, placing it on the thing he'd put on the floor between them.

Kurt didn't have time to say anything before he felt the cool, glossy magazine cover beneath his fingertips. His lips parted, ready to ask a question in confusion.

"It sounded heavier than a magazine," he wondered aloud, and Blaine shuffled again. Kurt wasn't sure if he making it up in his head, but Blaine sounded excited for something, and it was eating away at Kurt's curiosity.

"Well, um..." he paused a second, taking the magazine away. "I added a little something to it."

Kurt cocked his head, waiting for him to expand.

"You know how you told me that sometimes you'll sit with Carole or Santana and they'll describe the clothes in Vogue?" Blaine began to explain, beginning to skip pages. Kurt nodded. "Well, a couple of weeks ago I was thinking-" he paused while he turned another page "- what if we went one better than that?" Kurt opened his mouth to ask what Blaine meant but he'd already dropped the magazine back in front of him. He took Kurt's hand again in both of his, now warm from holding the coffee.

He brought his hand down so it was nearly touching the copy of Vogue again before pulling his own away.

"Go on," Blaine encouraged him. "I want you to feel it yourself." Kurt tilted his head towards him but his curiosity got the better of him and he leaned his hand forward until it met the glossy page of the magazine again.

Except he didn't feel that. His breath drew in, his fingers curling into the fabric beneath them, the warm wool taped to the inside of the magazine.

His other hand moved to cover his mouth, and he could feel himself shaking, but he couldn't stop it. It felt like he was experiencing this from somewhere else, he wasn't even there at all. Not even when he couldn't stop his shaky breaths. Because if this was just the start of what he thought Blaine had done, he didn't know if he could take the rest.

"I... um," Blaine started, "I remembered how you talked about clothes. And how you like to feel them." God, he sounded so worried, as if he didn't think Kurt liked it.

I bet you look like you've seen a ghost, that's why, he thought, fisting the hand over his mouth.

"And I remembered those fabrics you had in your locker and I thought... well, what if I read out the description of the clothes and you can feel the fabrics and... I thought you'd like it. Do you not like it? I'm sorry, I-"

"Blaine, no," Kurt half sobbed, pulling his hand away from his mouth, but keeping his other on the wool. "Blaine, this," he paused, his voice coming out shakily. "This is the nicest thing anyone has ever- I can't believe you did this." He moved his glasses up quickly to wipe the few tears that had leaked out. Turning to Blaine and giving he what he guessed would be a very watery smile, he laughed unsteadily. Ignoring more tears building up, he tried to hold himself steady.

"Of course I would," Blaine laughed. "I... I really care about you." Kurt's fingers that had been lazily running across the wool froze. "Um... do you," Blaine continued, clearing his throat, "Do you want me to describe the one made of what you're touching right now?"

Kurt nodded quickly, another sharp breath as Blaine flicked through pages of something else he was holding.

"I bought two copies," he told Kurt quickly, and began reading the description of the fabric Kurt hadn't been able to take his hand away from. "Escada Wool/Silk Blazer and Matching Trousers," he read. "If you lift up the wool I've taped," Kurt did so and felt underneath it, now running his fingers along the soft silk. "Yeah, there's some silk. It's black. The wool is grey- I know, not your favourite- and it has two rows of two buttons and cross hatching design on it. I don't think it looks too bad."

"It feels..." Kurt paused, swallowing thickly, "It feels beautiful."

"Move your hand to the right a bit," Blaine instructed, and Kurt did, soft silk replaced by cashmere that he'd recognise anywhere. "Pringle Cashmere twinset," he read again. "It's like a... dark beige colour? An undershirt and long sleeved shirt. They look a bit thin for my taste. That and it is women's clothing so..." he cut himself off with a short laugh, Kurt getting the impression he was being watched over.

"How did you get all these?" he laughed breathily, hands wiping tears away again before Blaine could see them.

"A good allowance and a fashion savvy mother," Blaine told him. "She helped with the materials."

"Tell her thanks from me?"

"Of course," he replied softly.

The next few hours were filled with endless descriptions, and questions ("Yes, but how low is the neckline? Low or pretty high? Yes, that's important, Blaine.") and different materials under his fingers as he tried to guess what they were when they weren't familiar. Kurt's head was so full of descriptions of woollen skirts and silk dresses, denim jeans and cotton shirts by the time dinner came he was sure he's have dreams filled with piles and piles of clothing that he could never afford to buy.

Blaine had given some pretty opinionated comments on some clothes had Kurt rolling his head back as he laughed at the image of Blaine's face contorted with disgust. Other times he'd shake his head fondly, reminding him, "It's fashion, Blaine." And usually, Blaine would scoff in reply.

His dad and Carole talked animatedly with Blaine at dinner. They asked him what he liked in school and what he didn't, where he wanted to go when he'd finished school and what his parents did for a living. Kurt felt bad for not speaking up, telling them to stop grilling him, but Blaine seemed to enjoy talking to them, and Kurt would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in listening to Blaine talk.

Finn was still upstairs, bed-ridden, so Carole went up to see if he wanted any food, leaving Blaine, Burt and Kurt at the table.

"So, Blaine," Burt started, "Kurt said... Kurt said you're gay too."

"Yes, I am," he replied quickly.

"Good, good," Burt started, "I mean that I think it's good that Kurt has someone he can talk to and... you know relate to."

"I do too," Kurt said from across the table. "Or did we forget I'm here?" He smiled to tell them he was joking, taking a sip of his water.

He hadn't realised how quickly dinner had gone, how the hours holed up in his bedroom had flown so quickly by that it was nearly time for Blaine to leave.

"Thank you for having me over, Mr and Mrs Hummel," Blaine thanked them, Kurt hearing him pulling his coat on, fumbling with the buttons. Kurt let his eyes close, though it made no difference, and built the picture up. Wrap the scarf around his neck, then pull his coat on, buttoning it slowly as he smiled at his dad and Carole, then pulling his bag over his shoulder, fidgeting until it was comfortable.

"No problem, Blaine," Carole laughed. "You're welcome here any time."

Kurt walked with him to the front door, opening it and they both stepped out into the early night time chill.

"Thank you so much," the words fell out his mouth before he'd thought them through, choking on them. He wrapped his arms around his body tightly, shivering from the freezing breeze. He sucked on his bottom lip, willing himself to finally say what he wanted to since Blaine had said it.

"It's... It was nothing," Blaine mumbled shyly. Was he ducking his head, or smiling softly? He imagined Blaine was doing both.

Kurt smiled sadly at him, unable to believe Blaine could think it was nothing. That it was something that didn't send thrills in Kurt's stomach every time he thought that Blaine had done something like that- spent time over something- all for Kurt. His breathing shook while he formed the words on his lips.

"I really care about you too," he admitted, the words coming out too fast and too jumbled together, but Blaine seemed to understand from the soft Oh in reply,which Kurt believed was accompanied with a small nod. "And it wasn't nothing," Kurt continued, slower. "It meant a lot. Thank you."

"Thank you too," Blaine replied, "For having me over."

"Any time," Kurt shrugged, and Blaine stepped forward and hugged him, knocking the wind out of him in shock before he relaxed into it, face burying into Blaine's thick scarf, taking in its smell so he could now memorise that part of him.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine mumbled, lips moving against his neck, shivers shooting down his spine as he let go and stepped back into the house.

"Bye, Blaine." He held on to the door handle, smiling at where he'd left Blaine. He could still feel where Blaine's mouth had been on his neck, still feeling warm compared to the rest of him. "See you tomorrow?"

"I'll bring the coffee!" he called as he walked down the path.

"You better!" he shouted back, closing the door behind him and leaning his back against it, not able to wipe the smile off his face even if he'd even tried.