Contrary to anything Wes and David might say, Kurt and Blaine really aren’t doing anything scandalous alone in his room, though if that were to happen – not that it will, ever, but if it did, well, Kurt wouldn’t exactly complain. Blaine had actually meant it when he asked if Kurt wanted help studying for their French exam, all charming smiles and little glances from the corner of his eye, because he’s such a proper gentleman that he doesn’t even realize when he’s being flirtatious.

Kurt absolutely does not want to study for his French exam, in fact, he would do just about anything to avoid it, but when Blaine comes in with his textbook and notes he finds himself reading over them anyway. He keeps getting distracted by wondering why the hell Blaine keeps giving him that look if he isn’t going to throw that textbook across the room and pull Kurt into his arms and kiss him passionately and…

A small cough from Blaine pulls Kurt from those thoughts. He bookmarks the page and sets the book off to the side. “Maybe we should take a short break?”

“I’m fine.” Kurt half-lies.

“You just conjugated the wrong verbs three times in a row, and you know it’s bad when I notice that.” Kurt can’t help but smile – French is one of the few subjects Blaine isn’t perfect at, another reason why he’d assumed that his new friend had some other motive for offering study help.

“Long day,” Kurt says, which is true, but he’s not tired. He just can’t keep his mind from wandering. “Okay, maybe we should take a bit of a break.”

“Excellent.” Blaine grins. “Anything in particular you’d like to do?”

You, he automatically thinks, then wishes he hadn’t because now he’s blushing, and wow, when did he become such a pervert? “Oh, um… whatever you like, I don’t care.”

“Hm.” While he’s thinking, Blaine grabs his iPod from its dock and flips through it, looking for something to replace the quiet instrumental songs that he’d been playing to help him focus on homework. He puts it on shuffle, and wouldn’t you know it, the very first song is Katy Perry. Not Teenage Dream – Kurt isn’t sure which one – but still. “Oh, shut up; don’t think I don’t see you rolling your eyes.”

“If you were straight you would probably marry Ms. Perry,” he teases.

“You can’t deny that we’re meant to be. One day she’ll notice me and we’ll fall madly in love and have lots of babies or whatever those weird straight people do,” Blaine replies, his voice very serious, making Kurt burst into a fit of giggles, which only intensify when Blaine jumps up and starts singing along, loudly and obnoxiously. Kurt doesn’t know the words, so he doesn’t join in, but when the next song ends up being Boys Boys Boys by Lady GaGa (a song Blaine hated until Kurt forced him to listen to it over and over as revenge for being subjected to California Gurls on repeat all day long, thank you very much), he feels obligated to make it a duet.

Surprisingly, Blaine does listen to more than just Katy Perry. He has the widest collection of music Kurt’s ever seen, from Broadway soundtracks to Jimi Hendrix to Hollywood Undead, of all things, (the first time Everywhere I Go came up on shuffle Kurt spat Diet Coke all over his newly finished algebra homework), and so nothing he listens to really surprises him anymore, especially not The Beatles. It’s not the band but the song that catches Kurt off guard, making him freeze in the middle of some ridiculous dance move he can’t really pull off anyway.

I’ll tell you something, I think you’ll understand, when I say that something, I wanna hold your hand…

The emotions only show on his face for about two seconds before he hides them, his mask slipping back into place, but not before Blaine notices. Blaine always notices.

“What’s wrong?” Blaine asks, stopping in the middle of belting out the first line. Kurt swallows. Even with the bounciness of the original song he still hears his own much slower rendition of it from what seems like years ago and just yesterday all at once.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Kurt bites his lip and sits down on the edge of his bed.

“Something is definitely wrong. Come on, talk to me.”

He takes a deep breath, avoiding Blaine’s eyes. “Oh, it’s just… I have some… weird memories related to this song. It’s still hard to listen to.”

Blaine immediately turns off the iPod, which is good because now Kurt can do important things like breath properly, but the silence is almost as bad. Blaine sits down, too, next to Kurt but still with a few safe inches of distance between them. “Like what kind of memories?”

He doesn’t want to talk about it, not really, because it’s stupid that he’s still all worked up over this, but he sneaks a glance at Blaine, who’s watching him closely. There’s no judgment there, just curiosity and genuine concern. Kurt swallows again, shifts around uncomfortably. He wants to time travel back to one minute ago when there were still having fun and acting ridiculous.

“Well, it was my mom’s favorite song, for one thing,” he blurts out. “Favorite band, too.” He’s never told anyone this, not even Mercedes or Finn. They don’t really listen to the Beatles at home anymore, not since he was eight years old, but sometimes Burt lets it play on the radio when it comes on, in the car or in the kitchen making dinner. They get very quiet and listen, soaking up memories, and then it’s over and everything goes back to normal. And they never, ever talk about it.

“She had good taste.” Blaine offers a small smile. He knows about Kurt’s mom, just from her death being mentioned in passing, but they haven’t talked about her, which is good in a way – often people start apologizing when they find out, trying to get him to open up about it, which is stupid and frustrating because he doesn’t need to ‘open up.’ But for some reason Kurt feels like he should. Talk about his mom with Blaine, that is. And his dad, too. No reason why, either, it just… he talks about so much with Blaine that he can’t find the courage to say to anyone else, and it just seems right.

“My dad had a heart attack a few months ago,” he continues, and now his voice shakes. Blaine doesn’t reply.� “I held his hand a lot, in the hospital. Mostly while he was asleep. And I… I sang that song in Glee Club. To him. Or for him. And I guess…” he only continues because there’s no way he can leave a sentence hanging like that. “Whenever I hear it now, I just see him, when I thought I would lose him, so thin and weak. And I see my mom, and how she looked when she was dying. And I remember trying to sleep in that stupid hospital, and waiting to become an orphan and… deciding that if he did die, I would never listen to The Beatles again.” He lets out a watery laugh at that, even though it’s not funny, but he wishes that it were.

Blaine stays silent, for a little bit, but Kurt hears him let out a deep, shaking breath. “Wow. I… I had no idea. That’s… a lot to go through.”

“It’s so stupid.” Kurt mumbles. “Because Dad’s going to be fine, right? Carole takes care of him, and the doctors say he’s getting healthier faster than expected, and they think he’ll be fine. But it’s really hard not to be there.”

“That’s… I would say that I’m sorry, but that’s not what you need to hear, is it?” Blaine asks softly.

“No, not really.” Kurt lies down on his bed, curling into sort of a fetal position and hugging his pillow and trying really hard not to cry. He hates crying, and especially hates crying in front of Blaine, but the universe at large hates him and gives him reason to cry in front on Blaine as often as possible. “I’m sorry I ruined our fun. I’m being stupid.”

“Don’t do that.”

Kurt frowns. “What?”

“Apologize. Try to hide yourself away. Don’t do it. It’s not wrong to have feelings, you know?” Kurt’s only response is to hide his face in his pillow. “It’s okay to talk about things like this when you need to. And I think you need to.”

“I don’t know what to even say.” He can’t help but think that Blaine should take his own advice. When they’re alone he’s perfect and sweet and kind. When they’re with the Warblers, he’s uptight and closed off and… kind of hurtful, really. It’s something he keeps meaning to mention. But not tonight.

“That’s okay, too.” He feels Blaine move on the bed, sitting on the other side of Kurt now. “Do you want me to leave you alone now, or…?”

“No,” he replies, too quickly, and blushes. “No, I… I mean, if you need to go, that’s okay, but I…”

“Don’t want to be alone,” Blaine finishes softly. Kurt rolls over and looks at him. He has this look on his face, distant and strange. Kurt doesn’t know a lot about Blaine outside of school, hasn’t met his parents or heard his life story. But something about that look makes Kurt think that he gets it, somehow.

Maybe that’s what keeps him so attached to Blaine. He gets Kurt, he notices everything about him, and he hasn’t run away screaming yet.

“Yeah.” Kurt whispers, barely audible, and when did tonight turn so intense?

Before he knows what’s happening, Blaine lies down, too, facing Kurt and smiling a little. Very close, so that he can feel the other boy’s breath on his skin. For one insane moment, Kurt contemplates telling Blaine to get his absurdly gelled hair the hell off his silk pillowcase, but he dismisses the thought as pure insanity, because hello, there is a really hot boy in his bed, if not for the reasons he’d fantasized about just a short time ago.

“Um,” he says, stupidly. “What…?”

“This okay?”

“Uh.” Breathe. “Y-yeah. Of course.”

Blaine smiles, and then reaches over to where Kurt is gripping his pillow tightly in his hand, lightly stroking his fingers and getting them to relax. “I guess I identify with the song too. For different reasons, though. I guess holding hands is really important to me in some weird way.”

“I get that.” Kurt hates the way his voice shakes. “It’s kind of… intimate, I guess.”

“Yeah. Trusting. The first boyfriend I had – only one, actually – wouldn’t hold my hand in public. It was this really weird thing. I probably made a much bigger deal out of it than I should have, but… I don’t know. It was like he was ashamed of me. And to me handholding is like… almost as important as kissing. I don’t even know why.”

Kurt can’t reply, because Blaine is still touching his hand. Just a little, feather-light, like asking for permission.� He stares at it, heart pounding, wondering what to do. He has held hands with him before, of course, within moments of meeting him, but this feels different, and so important. When he looks back into Blaine’s eyes, he realizes that Blaine is singing softly under his breath. “And please, say to me, you�ll let me hold your hand… now let me hold your hand… I wanna hold your hand…”

He laughs a little, through the tears that are still threatening him. Blaine is trying to give him one happy memory associated with this song, one memory that doesn’t bring him to tears, and it’s working. Without hesitation, he takes both of Blaine’s in his, entwining their fingers and squeezing tight. It’s all worth it for Blaine’s smile, wide, genuine, and infectious.

“Thank you,” they both whisper at the same time, and burst into quiet laughter.

Contrary to anything Wes and David might say, Kurt and Blaine really don’t do anything scandalous while alone in his room. They just lay there talking about everything and nothing at all for hours. They don’t even kiss, unless you count the little one on the cheek before he left (it’s far past curfew, so maybe it is a little scandalous, and Blaine’s little whisper of “I’ll see you soon, I mean tomorrow, I mean…” before he does this and then tiptoes back to his room are so cute he can’t even handle it). Or even better, the time in the middle of a conversation when he just lifts Kurt’s hands to his lips, lingering there for a long moment while just staring into his eyes. Now there’s a happy new memory to go along with the song.

They don’t kiss on the lips, though, and Kurt’s almost glad. Well, not glad, but content. Because handholding is important to him, too, and it wouldn’t be the right time for making out the way he’d planned, and really, they’ve shared something even more important tonight.

Kurt lies there after Blaine leaves, flexing his hand and remembering the feel of Blaine’s fingers twisted around his, and smiles at the happy memories he’s made and the ones he know yet to come as he drifts off to sleep.