Chapter 6

It could actually be said he was seething with annoyance, stood dumbly in the middle of God knows where, after Kurt ran off.

"Kurt!" he shouted sharply after him, followed by the sound of laughter from ahead , alongside an excited bark from Patti. He scowled in their direction and remained rooted to the spot.

"Move forward a little," Kurt called to him. "Come on. I'm right here. You'll find me." Blaine blinked rapidly behind the tie Kurt had attempted to wrap around his head. It was coming loose a little, so Blaine tightened it, pulling at his trapped hair.

Kurt's attempt at tying the thing around his eyes had failed the first few times, but they were better attempts than Blaine's had been. The amount of loose curls that had been caught painfully while he pulled it the first time had near enough ripped some hair out, while Kurt laughed from beside him.

"How do I look?" he'd asked.

"I imagine pretty stupid," Kurt chuckled in reply, sliding over to Blaine and tying it himself.

He'd pulled him out of the house, Patti guiding him, one hand holding Blaine's, ignoring the grumbling objections that this wasn't a good idea, they were going to hurt themselves or Patti would run off and "What good would come of that, really, Kurt?"

"Blaine," Kurt sighed, with a tug on Blaine's arm. "Shut up and stop leaning into the road."

How he'd ended up standing alone, eyes blacked out and completely unaware of his surroundings or where they'd even walked to, had been Kurt's brilliant idea. A really funny joke, he seemed to think. He'd slipped his hand out of Blaine's for a second and broke off into a short run, Patti leading his way.

"Kurt, just come back here!" he yelled, trying (and then failing) to stop his mouth curling at the sound of Kurt's laugh. "I have no idea where I am," he added, trying to keep the laugh out of his voice.

Kurt Hummel usually had a way of crushing those attempts.

"In a field!"

"That's not vague at all," he shot back, forcing an irritation to his tone that died at the sound of Kurt's snorted laughter.

"Take a few steps forward," he instructed. "And you'll be with me again." He didn't move. "Come on, Blaine. What's stopping you?"

"The fact my guide can't see," he muttered.

"Shut up," Kurt laughed. "I just walked that way. I walk this path all the time."

Blaine wouldn't admit to anyone he'd stood still a little longer, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly, trying to think of a good enough comeback. In the end, he shuffled forward slowly, with a few grumbles, until his fingers were twisting back around Kurt's and they set off again, Kurt laughing every few moments when Blaine swore at another branch he tripped up on.

"I thought you'd be more sympathetic," he mumbled, hearing something like "Baby!"covered by an exaggerated cough a little later.

Their walking turned slower, movements veering off to the side every few moments. It was strangely comfortable walking with Kurt like this, even if he wasn't sure why he'd had asked him to do it in the first place. When they'd arrived at his house after school the day after Kurt's request and Kurt had presented him with the tie, Blaine had had no idea what he wanted.

When he'd explained, Blaine had shaken his head a few times still not understanding what Kurt wanted from this. Or wanted from Blaine, to be more exact.

If it was some kind of proof that Blaine was willing to help Kurt with anything, then did he really need it? Hadn't he proven himself enough?

He could understand it a little better walking alongside Kurt, most of the time in complete silence. The constant mystery of what Kurt was doing, whether he were smiling or biting his lip or knitting his brows together in concentration, had driven Blaine to nearly tear the tie away from his eyes many times. The light that filtered through the gap at the top had forced his eyes to roll up to strain for a tiny glimpse, until he shut them tightly and concentrated on his footsteps.

Even if he couldn't see Kurt's smile or reactions, there was an odd calm about being oblivious to the potential judging looks of people he heard walk past them. Whether their eyes passed briefly over his and Kurt's linked hands, or whether they greeted them with an unappreciative scowl on their faces, didn't matter. He could close his eyes and ignore the rest of the world- the rest of this town at least- and focus on Kurt. Focus on the steps he took as Kurt guided him down winding paths and back into what sounded like an open street. Focus on Kurt's mindless chatter as they made their way back to his house, both desperate for a drink of something warm after the gnawing frost outside.

The rush of warmth that greeted them as Kurt finally fumbled his front door open forced him to falter slightly, feeling the side of Patti brushing against his leg as he stepped carefully in. He heard Kurt shut the door and the click of the lock.

After the first few seconds of bumping against each other softly in the tiny hallway, Blaine finally tore his blindfold off, blinking several times adjusting to the sudden light. While Kurt busied himself with sorting Patti out, Blaine offered to make some tea, his freezing hands begging for something to help warm them up.

He could hear Kurt laughing in the other room at the dog and scolding her playfully, the two of them joining him in the kitchen as he poured the steaming water into their mugs. Kurt scuffled around in a cupboard, Blaine catching the sight of him feeling around for Patti's food.

His eyes never left him while he idly turned the spoon in one of the mugs, as Kurt reached over and ran fingers through Patti's fur, smiling as she responded happily to him pouring food into her bowl. His stomach squirmed and he tried to pull his focus back on to the tea.

He blinked again, rapidly, suppressing any moisture from building up. Kurt had taken him out, blinded, holding his hand and it had been... it had been strange and wonderful and like Blaine had a sudden sense of exactly what this was for Kurt.

Except then they returned to Kurt's, he pulled off the blindfold and after a couple of seconds he could return to seeing, to watching and studying, and Kurt couldn't. He could hide that fact behind a smile and a pair of darkened glasses, but the fact was he'd never be able to. Blaine couldn't understand why Kurt had taken him out in the first place.

When he finally shook himself out of his trance, he found Kurt in the living room, fluffing up a cushion repeatedly. He put it back down, picked it up again, smacking his hands against it and placing it back in the exact same spot. Before he could reach for another thing to busy his hands with, Blaine startled him with the clattering of their mugs against the coffee table.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Kurt grinned. Or grimaced. It really could have been either the way his face strained at the question. He sat down quickly, folding his hands in his lap.

"I'm fine, I'm good. Awesome," he assured Blaine, hands fidgeting in his lap, voice breathier and higher than usual. Blaine frowned and sat tentatively next to him, only then noticing how Kurt's fingers were digging into his palms.

"Hey," he reached across and pulled one of his hands towards him, cupping it in both of his. "You don't have to talk to me about this if you don't want to." Kurt pulled his hand away instantly and waved it in front of him.

"No!" he insisted. "No, I'm okay. I just need a moment. I haven't... it's been a long time since... you know." His words were broken and cut off, pausing and swallowing every few seconds, hands fidgeting against his legs.

Blaine leaned over and passed him his tea, guessing it would be better if he had something to do with his hands. He watched over Kurt's face carefully as they sipped their tea in complete silence. His head was turned down, staring towards the mug he couldn't see in his hands. Eyes blocked from Blaine's view by the glasses, there was no way of telling if he was sad or lost in thought or even angry. Kurt's emotions- every one of his thoughts- were usually written across his face and even Blaine, who had difficulty reading Kurt when they had first met, could figure out how he was feeling. And yet, with his face drawn into a blank expression, his eyes hidden from view, Blaine couldn't read anything.

He waited. Not knowing what to say, they fell into a painful silence. Kurt's fingers began to trace lazily around the rim of the mug. With a heavy weight against his chest, Blaine wanted nothing more than to reach across and take his hand and lace their fingers together, just to hold it and reassure him he didn't have to worry.

His eyes lingered on Kurt's hand before following the line of his arm and the curve of his shoulder back to his face, now twisted into a small scowl.

If the silence had been his to break, Blaine would have spoken up.

Instead he moved to sit back, away from Kurt to give him some distance and ready to content himself waiting until Kurt was comfortable enough to continue, before Kurt raised his head and took a deep breath.

"She played piano a lot," his voice was clear, fighting to keep it strong, and he carried on, "And she taught me how to play. Mostly." He paused, turning his head in Blaine's direction, lips pulling up into a small smile. Blaine's hand reached across almost of its own accord, giving Kurt's a reassuring squeeze before pulling back again.

"She had this habit," he continued softly, "of only playing happy songs when we played. She always said she wanted to see me laugh. But she'd play by herself sometimes and they'd make my heart ache and I'd... I would sneak into the living room and listen to her play."

Blaine nodded, humming in response. Kurt shifted so his body turned around to face Blaine fully, their knees brushing.

"She was my everything," Kurt whispered brokenly. "And she was wonderful." He took a deeper breath, but it shuddered as he did and Blaine ached to scoop Kurt in his arms, dreading exactly what Kurt was about to say. He'd clicked on already, he'd suspected it for a while what it was, but Kurt had been talking about her in the past tense for too long for someone not to catch on.

"She died when this happened," he waved to his face, his voice surprisingly emotionless. "I don't think I ever told you that."

Blaine's stomach dropped, the heavy weight against his chest and heart seeming five times heavier.

"I'm so... Kurt, I'm so sorry."

It was pointless and Kurt shook his head at him, a petty effort at an assurance that it was okay. Of course it wasn't okay, Blaine was sure of that. Kurt's face drawn again with no emotion was enough of a giveaway sign.

"We can stop, Kurt."

"No," he shook his head adamantly. "I'm fine, I swear. I want to talk about this."

"I know," Blaine replied gently. "I just mean, whenever you feel you can't go on, even if you're near the end, you can stop." A breathy laugh escaped from Kurt as he pulled up his glasses and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

There was another long breath from Kurt, exhaling slowly.

"She was the last person- the last anything- I ever saw," he admitted, voice quiet. "It still sticks out to me. That image- more than any other." The shake of his breath, followed by his hands vibrating, was all it took for Blaine to slide over, take the mug away and place it down with his back on the coffee table. Now sat close enough their hips were grazing, he lifted his hand up to stroke Kurt's bangs from his forehead, before hesitating and settling to wrap his arm around Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt sniffed loudly, rubbing the side of his nose absently. Squaring his shoulders, tilting his head up a little higher, there was an extra defiance about him, even if Blaine could see the cracks he was struggling to hide.

"I can't remember it. I can't remember how it happened."

His body may have been pulled up straighter but his voice wobbled, giving him away. Blaine tightened his arm briefly around him.

"We were driving home. I... apparently I suffered some head trauma," he swallowed, trying to find the rest of the words, "which resulted in some kind of pre-accident amnesia or something? I don't really know." He shrugged, Blaine's arm falling back down to his side, hands curling in his lap.

"I've heard of that happening." It was a completely useless thing to say, needless and pathetic, but he had to say something, instead of nodding dumbly to someone who couldn't even see him responding.

"Yeah, well," Kurt sighed. "I can't remember the last few minutes before it happened. Apparently... apparently a truck rammed right into us and..." His words trailed away, taking a breath as his fingers shook. His voice sounded thick, holding back, but his face remained surprisingly dry.

Blaine reached out tentatively, fingers brushing over Kurt's hand faintly before Kurt turned his palm up, allowing Blaine to take hold of it and pull it into his own lap.

"I'm glad I can't remember," his voice shook in no more than a whisper. "The last thing I can remember is her laughing. And her hair was in this really loose bun and falling out. She-" the laugh that escaped felt out of place, genuine but sticking out amongst the thick emotion between them. "She was laughing about..."

His hand pulled away from Blaine sharply, Blaine recoiling automatically while Kurt muttered, "Laughing about... about... I can't remember... I can't..."

His fingers slipped beneath his glasses and Blaine didn't know if it was to rub them out of weariness or to brush away any escaped tears.

"I can't remember," Kurt repeated, voice thick. "It's so hard to."

"Kurt," Blaine started.

Kurt shook his head forcefully, scowling in Blaine's direction and Blaine felt himself not shrinking back but leaning his body in closer and nudging Kurt with his side. He left his words unspoken and waited until Kurt brought his face back to look in the direction of his properly. He wet his lips before speaking.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"I must have... I don't know," Kurt shook his head again. "It wasn't much, but there were tiny shards of glass embedded in my eyes. The doctors suspected I must have aggravated it by blinking so much. They were incredibly deep." His hand lifted to touch the frames of his glasses with his fingers lightly, before letting them fall back. "My corneas were pretty much scratched to hell. The doctors keep telling me I was lucky I couldn't remember the pain or when it happened." His voice stuck as he let out an aggravated scoff, fingers curling in on themselves.

Blaine measured him with careful eyes as his face twisted darkly.

"I can remember waking up, though," he told Blaine. "They put me into surgery immediately and God, can I remember that." His voice was cold, fingers digging into the palm of his hand. Blaine hardly registered taking hold of it again.

Kurt froze, his next words leaving slowly.

"My first instinct was to open my eyes," he muttered. "And if you've ever tried to open your eyes after eye surgery...well, that's the last thing you're meant to do. Especially when there are thousands of tiny unhealed scratches all across them, let alone having had them cut into for God knows how many hours."

Bile rose in Blaine's throat from the way Kurt's voice twisted achingly.

"I was screaming. For my mom. My dad. I'd opened my eyes and everything was dark and I couldn't stop because I was scared and my eyes felt like they were burning out of my head."

"Shit," Blaine breathed, hands clasped too tight over Kurt's. But he couldn't pull himself away, take his hands off Kurt when if he did, Kurt would fall apart and crumble without him there to secure him to something.

"I was in pain for so long," Kurt admitted, hands warm and dampening in Blaine's. "On as many pain meds as you can put an eight-year-old on. Without them, every time I blinked was like..." He paused, head tilting down breathing slowly.

"They'd warned my dad there was next to no chance of me still having my sight but he was terrified. When he told me Mom had died, he... he said he was sure my eyes would heal up. I was eight and scared and he was hysterical. They made me stay in the hospital for longer than usual because they didn't think he was in the right state of mind to take a blind child home.

"But I started having nightmares. And woke up screaming every night for my mom and dad and he demanded I came home." He leant into Blaine, holding himself against him, as if making sure he was still there.

"I carried on having nightmares. I kept dreaming about crashing and once..." his voice faltered and his head turned upwards.

Blaine's hand must have crushed bones in Kurt's, surely, the way he was gripping it so tightly. The words he was dying to say stuck in his throat. And he watched with a terrified wonder as Kurt seemed to have second thoughts and checked himself, shaking his head.

"Dad spent most nights calming me down."

He loosened his grip on Blaine's hand, but kept them together.

"I started never opening my eyes," he barely breathed, "because I could remember people's reactions, could always hear the pity in their voices. My dad told me I couldn't sit with my eyes closed all the time. But I hated it. God, I hated it."

He spat the last part, hands pulled away from Blaine, shifting his body so it tilted away, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands.

"I hated everyone seeing me and instantly pitying me," he shook, "I hate it now. I got the glasses and it makes it less noticeable." His head lifted up, his expression fighting to remain blank.

"I heard my dad talking to the nurses. My eyes were in pretty bad shape and... I know they look bad. People only have to look at me once and feel sorry for me. It's their first thought."

Blaine lifted himself up, Kurt following the movement with his head and Blaine could see the tear tracks down his cheeks. Standing above him, he studied his face, pale and a few tears still trailing down, his hair windswept and falling in his face, and then his eyes. Covered up and hidden.

"It's not," Blaine told him tenderly, kneeling down so he was level with Kurt.

"Not?"

"The first thing everyone thinks when they see you," he repeated, slowly.

"How do you know that?" Kurt sniffed, pulling himself up. Blaine shifted, raising his hand slightly to take Kurt's again but stopped himself and reached for his arm instead.

"Because I didn't."

He didn't miss Kurt's sharp intake of breath, or the way his shoulders fell from the tight position Kurt had held them in. He didn't miss how Kurt's fingers rested delicately against his own hand lying on Kurt's other arm or how he pulled them away almost reluctantly.

He shook his head and wiped his cheeks roughly, dislodging his glasses for a second before fixing them. Blaine didn't know what to say or what to do but whatever he was doing felt right. He couldn't bring himself to talk or ask questions, but he let Kurt carry the conversation and with a soft grasp of his hand on Kurt's arm, Blaine hoped he was able to keep him anchored. When Kurt opened his mouth he thought for a moment he was going to ask him what he did think when they met, but his eyebrows furrowed, drawing his mouth to a frown instead.

"I'm pathetic," Kurt scoffed, ignoring Blaine's disagreements. "I am, Blaine. I just... I feel so exposed. I feel so sorry for myself all the time and yet I hate when people feel sorry for me. I used to spend so long asking why me, I ended up a pathetic whiny child."

"You aren't, Kurt," Blaine insisted, the grip on his arm a little tighter.

The smile Kurt flashed Blaine was small and incredibly sad, the kind expected to be followed by tears, but it was tender and did all it could to tear at Blaine's heart.

"You've know me for less than two months," Kurt reminded him, head turning away. "Your mind could easily change."

The weight of Kurt's words hit him hard somewhere in his lower abdomen. Had it really only been two months? That didn't seem a long enough time for him to know all the things he knew about Kurt. Or was this what it felt like when you made true friends? Like you'd known them as long as you'd known yourself even if it was only really a barrel of information compressed into a few short weeks.

He wanted to reach up, take his glasses off and hold his face softly in his own hands, look him directly and have him see the sincerity in his own eyes, that he would never do that. That Kurt could never chase him away.

He couldn't. He'd never be able to get Kurt to see.

Maybe this was what it felt like when your heart broke.

"I don't care if missing her is pathetic though. I wish she were here, Blaine," he sobbed, throat sounding as though it was closed up and his shoulders shaking. "I keep thinking... I'm going to forget."

His hands flew up to his face, fingers underneath his glasses and pressing into his eyes, forcing more tears back.

"I miss... I miss her," he choked out, holding an arm around himself. "I can't even remember her properly and it's awful." His voice shook but Blaine could tell how hard he was suppressing hysteria rising in it. "I can't look... I can't see pictures of her and even if I close my eyes and pretend I can see her... I can't. I can't." He shook his head and Blaine caught the few tears rolling down the side of Kurt's nose before he could brush them away hurriedly.

His hand that wasn't resting on Kurt's arm itched to lift up and take the glasses off once again but he refrained, even though it must have been uncomfortable to cry with them on. It was Kurt's choice and he'd let him have that.

He shifted up, pushing from the couch and sitting back down. His arms wrapped lightly around Kurt's waist, who tensed under his touch, before relaxing into it. Blaine pulled him slightly, directing him where to go, and Kurt got the message leaning into Blaine's side, tension rolling from him as he melted against him. He felt Kurt shiver and drew an arm further up to rest against Kurt's, tilting his head so Kurt's could rest his on Blaine's shoulder, hair softly brushing against his cheek.

"I can't remember the exact colour of her hair," he mumbled through the thickness in his throat. "Or eyes. And Dad describes them sometimes but it's not... it's not..." Another few helpless sobs escaped and Blaine wrapped his arm tighter around him.

He stroked circles into his arm slowly, listening to Kurt's soft breathing of repeated words as he said to himself, "It's not the same... not the same." The mutters softened and were followed by weak shuffling as he pulled his legs up onto the couch and curled into himself. Blaine wasn't sure if what he was doing was working, or if Kurt understood completely, but he kept him wrapped up against him, familiar patterns traced against his arm, reminders of how he was here and not going anywhere. Never going anywhere.

"You're so brave, Kurt," he breathed softly against his hair. "So brave."

The soft pressure left his shoulder with the tickle of Kurt's hair brushing against his cheek, but the rest of his body stayed pressed against his side apart from the hand that lifted up to pull his glasses off.

His eyes stayed tightly shut. Head resting back against Blaine's shoulder, he drowsily mumbled, "Uncomfortable."Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt, and felt his throat stick as the moisture evaporated.

His eyes remained closed, and tightly too, his glasses chucked carelessly beside his feet. His eyelashes were stuck together with tears, cheeks blotched and blushed red, and with the ever present pain in Blaine's stomach, he looked at Kurt with the hollow realisation that there were more times than a person should count that he'd looked like this. He closed his own eyes and rested his cheek against Kurt's hair and his breathing slowed to the pace of Kurt's soft breaths and he lost himself in the sound and feel of it.

When he opened his eyes, he'd fallen back across the couch, Kurt lying on top of him, chest rising slowly as he dozed against him. The sun had completely sunk from the sky now, no more dying streams of sunlight through the window across the living room. Patti had already made her way in, curling herself by the couch underneath Kurt. Shifting up, blinking sleep out his eyes, he caught a glimpse of Kurt lying against him, features barely visible in the faint light.

His hand traced without thought along Kurt's hairline, softly stroking the hair out his face. His cheeks remained bitten red and the tears had dried there now. His eyelashes had dried and were fanned out against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply, lost in sleep. Pulling soft strands of hair from his forehead, Blaine scanned over Kurt's face slowly, appreciating this moment before Kurt woke up and put the glasses back on, obscuring his eyes.

His thumb traced softly beneath them, freezing for a moment as Kurt stirred. There were bags there, but any stress they usually held had dissolved as Kurt dozed, face softer than he had ever really noticed it to be before.

Lifting his eyes to stare at the ceiling, blinking a few times as he adjusted to the light, Blaine let his fingers trail over Kurt's bangs, trying to ignore the prickling heat behind his own eyes or the erratic beating of his heart as he'd studied Kurt. He felt Kurt's fingers dig into his shirt as he slept and his eyes fell back down to his face. He tried to tear them away another few times but they always ended up focusing on the line of Kurt's nose, or the curve of his jaw, or how his head lifted slightly as Blaine's chest rose from his own breathing.

When Kurt's dad returned home a while later, he pulled himself out of Kurt's grasp, sending a few apologetic glances Mr Hummel's way, surprised Kurt only curled up on the couch without so much of a stir. He tried to rush out of the house, despite Burt Hummel's invitations to stay for dinner and he assured him he had to be getting back home. Blaine found himself covering up in his jacket not long after at the front door, stroking the top of Patti's head as she said goodbye in her own way.

"Um... say goodbye to Kurt from me," he asked timidly and Burt nodded in response, Blaine swearing he could see the faintest of smiles playing at his mouth that was met with a poignant look in his eyes.

"Sure thing, kid. Drive safe."

He could have driven safer. But thoughts of soft breathing and fingers digging into his side running through his mind every few seconds couldn't have done well for his concentration.

He was curled up with a coffee and the book they were meant to be reading for English, his eyes dragging over the words and then back again as they all blurred into one while his stomach kept squirming, when his phone rang.

Reaching blindly to his dresser, he put his coffee down and answered without looking at the caller or taking his eyes from the page.

"Hello?" a voice mumbled from the other end, followed by a small yawn.

"Kurt?" The book landed on his bed with a soft thud and he shot up, curling his legs up to his chest.

"Hey, Blaine," he laughed tiredly, Blaine smiling at the image of a rumpled Kurt, hair sticking up at odd angles and rubbing his eyes.

"Did you just wake up?" he asked, leaning over to pick his coffee up, sipping if only to reduce the dryness suddenly forming in his throat.

"Yeah," he mumbled in reply. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine!" Blaine assured him. "I fell asleep too for a while. I know you're tired." Kurt hummed slowly. Blaine rested his forehead on his knees waiting for an actual response, fingers playing nervously in his bed sheets.

"I wanted to thank you," Kurt finally spoke up, clearing his throat. "You've been really good to me. Too good."

Blaine shook his head, to himself more than anything.

I haven't been good enough to you, Kurt.

"Don't be silly," he muttered but Kurt laughed, crackling slightly through the phone.

"I mean it," he told him, voice steady. "When you were... before when I was cr- when I was upset, you told me I was brave. Well, you made me realise I'm not."

"Kurt-" Blaine started, sternly, head aching and not wanting to start another argument.

"Hear me out, Blaine," he cut across. "I'm not brave. And I want to be."

He paused for a moment, Blaine sure he could hear him moving around, maybe sitting some place more comfortable.

"I carried on taking piano lessons for my mom, because I knew I'd have broken her heart if I hadn't. I love it and I know how upset she'd be if I gave up something I love."

Blaine nodded, pressing the phone to his ear, not even caring if Kurt couldn't tell what he was doing, because he would know he was listening anyway.

"And I realised... well you made me realise," he carried on, "That she wouldn't have wanted this either. I love singing too. You've reminded me how she'd hate that I'd given it up."

He should have stopped nodding because it was pointless but he couldn't think of a word to say even if his throat wasn't already painfully dry. He took another long sip of his coffee.

"So," he started slowly. "Are you saying you'd like to come to Glee?"

"No," his reply was too quick, like the question had been expected, but firm. "Not yet anyway. I'm not ready to come to Glee club." His voice was a little shaky, mumbling slightly and his breaths were shallow before he finally asked, "But can I carry on practising with you?"

Blaine let out a strangled laugh, relieved. "Of course, Kurt." His mouth curled up, face breaking into a wide smile. "I'd love it if you did."

"Me too," he admitted, Blaine hearing his smile down the phone. "It's better than math at any rate."

Blaine chuckled, fingers playing idly with the pages of his book.

"That's not hard though."

"True," Kurt laughed. He paused.

"Blaine?" he ventured.

"Hm?" he replied dreamily, leaning against his pillows.

"Thank you for today," he whispered, quiet enough to make Blaine wonder if there were other people near him. "For everything."

He smiled softly against the fabric of his pillow, stomach fluttering at the sound of how sincere-how grateful- Kurt sounded.

"Any time, Kurt," he whispered back, though there was no one to listen in on him.

And after they bid each other goodnight, and Blaine dozing off, his phone dropped lazily by his side and his light still on, he repeated the words in his head, churning them over until he let his eyes fall completely shut and let sleep take over.

Any time.