Rain fell outside Blaine's window, heavy and chilling in mid-autumn. The sky was simply a grey haze, crying teardrops onto orange, brown, and yellow leaves, pouring over the vast expanse of the backyard that led to the edge of a slight forest, land his parents owned.

But while the rain poured outside, inside Blaine's rainstorm darkened room it was warm and Kurt was sighing against Blaine's lips.

Kissing felt like magic, Kurt decided. As soon as Blaine's lips touched his, when they moved, so slow and sure, Kurt felt these hot tendrils, sparks unraveling through his veins and twinkling out to his fingertips and down to the tips of his toes. Blaine's breath ghosted over his face and slipped into his mouth, surrounding him with the scent of peppermint mocha and something else distinctly Blaine, distinctly charming and familiar and so achingly sweet that it made his toes curl.

They kissed for literally hours on end, the house empty and quiet all except for them and the sound of the rain drops against the window and on the roof.

Kurt adored kissing. He adored it when Blaine's fingers tangled into his hair and he melted when Blaine caressed his neck and his clavicle. His breath turned into a shudder when Blaine's hand dipped under the hem of his shirt to trace tiny little circles onto the skin of his stomach.

But he was terrified to go any further than that.

Absolutely, incomprehensively terrified.

So when Blaine's hand crept just that much lower, palming the undeniable bulge in his jeans, Kurt froze beneath him.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, voice ragged from disuse. "Is it…is this okay?"

No, Kurt thought in his head. No, it wasn't okay because he wasn't okay and he didn't quite know if he was ready to be touched there or not. It wasn't like he didn't know what to do anymore. He'd read those pamphlets his dad had given him and he actually studied them to make sure he understood every last detail. So it wasn't that he was a completely naïve, uninformed virgin.

But there were parts of him he wasn't ready to let anyone else see yet. Even if he and Blaine had been together for five months now.

But if he said no…Blaine might stop kissing him.

If he said no, Blaine might…might…

What if Kurt wasn't good enough for him anymore?

"Kurt?" Blaine asked again.

Startled from his reverie, Kurt gulped and attempted a smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's okay."

Blaine stared down at him, eyes full of caution as he let his thumb caress Kurt's hip bone through his jeans.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Kurt whispered, pulling Blaine's head back down so he could kiss him again.

Because kissing was safe, kissing was nice, kissing was something he could do. But Blaine's kiss turned heated and kind of feral now that he had Kurt's permission to go a bit farther. His tongue darted into Kurt's mouth, swiping at his own and pressing against Kurt's teeth and Kurt couldn't help but gasp into the sensation. Sure, they'd French kissed before, but it had never been anything like this, all hot and hard, with Blaine growling in his throat, pressing himself up against Kurt's thigh.

Blaine took Kurt's gasp as a very good sign and began sliding his calloused fingers under Kurt's shirt, tugging it up and up, fingertips trailing over Kurt's ribs and passing over one of his nipples and holy hell, that was an interesting sensation and he couldn't stop himself from arching into it. Kurt wasn't ready to do this, wasn't ready to go this far but somehow Blaine knew exactly what he was doing, knew how to pluck Kurt's strings as if he were a guitar. Lost in some purgatory between heaven and hell, Kurt, for some reason, allowed Blaine to tug his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere. Kurt didn't see where it went because Blaine's lips began pressing wetly against his jaw, licking at his neck and continuing south and god, it felt amazing but Kurt was shivering and panting for all the wrong reasons. His shirt was gone and he was suddenly exposed in a way he did not want to be and then one of Blaine's hands slid under him to press his palm flat against Kurt's back between the bed while his other hand slid down to palm at his erection again and oh no, oh no, oh, no, Kurt lost it.

Because he couldn't do this, he wasn't ready, he wasn't ready at all.

Kurt shoved Blaine away with a shaking hand and a bony elbow, not even bothering to look at Blaine's face as he scrambled off the bed and onto the floor, his legs nearly giving out from under him. His heart was racing, adrenaline and fear pulsing through him, his head fuzzy and Blaine's voice was muffled in his ears. He couldn't stand this, it was warm, too warm, and it smelled like Blaine and he loved the smell of Blaine but oh god…he couldn't be in this room and he couldn't look at his boyfriend who was obviously disappointed in him because he was a stupid virgin, he wasn't read for any of this, wasn't – wasn't –

Kurt ran.

He raced out of the room, down the stairs, and he was barefoot and shirtless but all he could feel was too much heat, too much everything and he saw the rain through the back windows. So he rushed through the hallway, vaguely hearing his name coming from Blaine's mouth as he rushed down the stairs after Kurt. But Kurt threw open the large back door and stumbled onto the back patio, off the steps, and his bare feet collided with wet grass and mud but it didn't matter. It didn't matter because he could still hear Blaine calling after him and he couldn't bear to face the awful look on his face so he kept running. It was freezing out here and the rain was still falling from the grey, intense clouds above and the drops mixed with his tears, hitting his back so hard that on occasion he felt like his skin was on fire.

But he didn't stop running until just before he reached the line of trees on Blaine's property, mostly because he couldn't breathe right and he was crying so hard his chest was hurting. The heavy rainstorm washed over his pale, shaking frame and soaked through his jeans and his feet and the cuffs of his jeans were slathered in mud and grass blades were itchy between his toes. He hunched over, falling to his knees and then he heard Blaine's voice again.

"Kurt!" Blaine was shouting. "What're you doing? Come inside!"

Blaine rushed over to him, barefoot as well and his grey t-shirt was wet and stuck to his chest. When Kurt finally turned his red, stinging eyes towards his boyfriend, he was shocked to see a look of overwhelming concern gracing his features, rain-soaked hair, eyelashes blinking rapidly to stave off huge rain drops, and thick brows furrowed in confusion.

"Kurt…your back…"

His back.

Kurt stood precariously, but his feet slipped in the mud and he attempted to crawl away, pulling away from Blaine's hand on his wet skin.

"What're you – stop!" Blaine shouted as Kurt tried to scuttle away from him. "Kurt!"

Blaine finally got a hold of Kurt's slick arm, yanking him back towards him.

"Leave me alone!" Kurt yelled, ripping his arm from Blaine's grasp.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I can't – I can't-"

"What?" Blaine had to yell to be heard over the sound of rain and thunder. "What is going on?"

"Just leave me alone!"

"I'm not leaving you alone! It's fucking freezing out here! And you just flipped out and ran out of my house!"

"Because I don't want you to touch me like that!"

Blaine froze. "Wha – what?"

"I can't do it!"

"But you said-"

"I know what I said!" Kurt cut him off. "Because I knew if I said no that you wouldn't want me anymore!"

And as soon as those words tumbled from his lips, Kurt broke down, his now muddy hands coming up to cover his ashamed face. He knew he was overreacting, he shouldn't be crawling around on the fucking ground in the middle of a thunderstorm; he should be inside having a calm conversation about this. This whole situation was dramatic and useless and he felt like such a child but he couldn't handle the thought that Blaine would just drop him like a stone over a cliff and watch him fall into the crashing waves below. Because the thought of losing Blaine made his heart shatter into a billion tiny shards in his chest.

"Kurt…no," Blaine stated firmly, kneeling next to Kurt on the muddy ground, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's shivering body. "I'll always want you."

"I'm not good enough," Kurt said through his hands, his voice cracking, barely audible over the sound of a thunderclap. "I can't give you everything you need."

"You do, though," Blaine attempted to assure him.

"I can't – I don't want you to…there are things I don't want you to see," Kurt admitted. "I can't…I can't!"

"What things?" Blaine asked as gently as possible, pressing his palm flat against Kurt's back. "These?"

Kurt cried loudly into the autumn rain, leaning heavily into Blaine's embrace, completely horrified that he'd left himself so vulnerable, so completely open.

"They're just scars," Blaine said directly into Kurt's ear.

"They're awful."

"They're part of you," Blaine said. "And that makes them beautiful." He reached up to pull Kurt's hands away from his face to reveal muddy cheeks, cut by tracks of tears and red, swollen eyes. His fingers slid over the wet skin of Kurt's back, tracing the raised scars. "You got them at your old school, didn't you?"

Kurt nodded slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as Blaine cupped his dirty face, his thumb wiping through the mud. "It was every day," he whispered. "I couldn't stop them shoving me or throwing me around."

"And you – you think that makes you less?"

"It makes me ugly."

"No," Blaine said, shaking his hand. "It makes you stronger than you think."

"I never wanted you to see," Kurt admitted. "I never wanted anyone to see."

The rain continued pouring, washing away most of the mud on his face and it was getting colder. His teeth began to chatter and he pressed himself against Blaine, so incredibly thankful that he was still there, that he was still solid, and that he wasn't letting go.

"Come on," Blaine insisted, tugging him up to stand. "You're going to get sick, let's go inside."

Unable to really argue the point, Kurt allowed Blaine to lead him back into the large house, shutting the door behind them. They were wet and dirty but Blaine didn't seem to care as they walked through the house, watery, muddy footprints trailing behind them as they went up the stairs and back into Blaine's bedroom and into his bathroom.

"Take a hot shower," Blaine said, opening a cabinet and setting a white, fluffy towel on the edge of the counter. He moved back over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of clean sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Throw these on." He fiddled with the shower tap and hot water began to spray. "We'll talk when you're done."

Kurt nodded, sniffling as he watched Blaine exit the bathroom and pull the door shut. Kurt turned to look at his back in the rapidly fogging mirror, hanging his head at the sight. The scars weren't plentiful, they weren't long and craggy; they were simply four or five raised white marks, paler even than his skin.

And he hated them.

They're part of you, he heard Blaine's voice echo in his thoughts, and that makes them beautiful.

Kurt bit his lip, unsure exactly how he should feel about that statement at this point, and peeled his wet jeans and underwear down his legs and climbed into the steamy shower. He let the heat seep into his skin, staving off the chill in his bones as he stood under the warm spray. His eyes slid over the various bottles Blaine had on his shower shelves and when he finally picked one, he popped the cap open and almost started crying at the scent of the shampoo because it was so, so Blaine and he wanted to be back on his bed, under his heavy body with their lips glued together.

But now he felt like he'd broken something and it was irreparable.

He washed his hair and his body, scrubbed at his face and lingered there under the showerhead, unwilling to step out and have the inevitable conversation. But he knew the water would eventually run cold so he shut the shower off, climbed out, dried off, and pulled on the borrowed clothing, pulling the collar of the shirt up to his nose and sensing a bit of laundry soap and Blaine and he sighed into the fabric.

He opened the door to see Blaine sitting on his bed, cross-legged, also clad in a pair of sweatpants and a fresh shirt.

"You showered?" Kurt asked hoarsely.

"I used the guest bathroom," Blaine nodded. "Come sit." He patted the bed next to him.

Kurt shuffled over, settling himself on the edge of the bed.

"Kurt…I'm not going to jump you."

Kurt hung his head, but scooted closer, though not allowing his knees to quite touch Blaine's.

They were silent. Neither of them really knew how to start and Kurt snatched a pillow up and put it in his lap, hugging it tightly.

"I'm not going to leave you just because you aren't ready for certain parts of intimacy," Blaine finally said. "So you can get that idea out of your head right now."

"But you're…"

Blaine tilted his head to the side. "But I'm what?"

"You're more experienced than me," Kurt whispered into the pillow. "You've done…stuff and I haven't and – and you deserve to be with someone who can give you everything."

"I've never had a boyfriend, I told you that."

"But you've done stuff."

"I've fooled around, yeah," Blaine sighed. "But I've never had sex. At least not, you know, intercourse."

Kurt blushed furiously. Blaine moved closer cupping Kurt's hands that were fisted into the fluffy pillow.

"Kurt…I'm going to be honest with you. And I'm going to pray to everything holy that you won't run out of this room," Blaine began. He didn't continue speaking until Kurt raised his eyes to meet his. "I want you. I want to kiss you and I want to touch you and I…I want to see you come completely unglued right in front of me."

Kurt's breath hitched at the honest statement but it didn't…terrify him or make him want to run out. He was shocked that Blaine wanted him that much but he still felt horrible because he couldn't give Blaine all of what he so desperately seemed to want.

"But I'm not going to do anything that you don't want to do," Blaine stated. "I will not do that to you. Because if I…if I ever tried to do that, I'd lose you and I don't want that. I'm perfectly okay with doing whatever you're ready to do, Kurt. I'm not going to rush you. I'm not clueless; I understand that you've never done anything before. It's been over five months and we haven't done anything more than kissing. Have I complained?"

"What if I'm never ready?" Kurt couldn't help but ask softly.

"I think you're underestimating yourself," Blaine replied with the slightest of smiles. "But if you aren't…then you aren't. And I'll kiss you as often as you let me."

"I like kissing," Kurt admitted. He felt small. He felt so young.

"I like it too," Blaine smiled, his thumb brushing over Kurt's knuckles. "And I think you'll like other things, but I'm not going to force you into them."

Kurt nodded and Blaine pushed a few pillows up against the headboard, maneuvering himself to lean against it and urging Kurt over with him. He pulled Kurt into his lap, pillow still held tight to his chest, but didn't allow him to lean back.

"As for your scars," Blaine said quietly, hooking his fingers under Kurt's shirt despite Kurt's whimper of protest, "I don't mind them at all." He lifted the back of the shirt and began pressing feather-light kisses to the thin bits of raised skin. He kissed each and every single scar, refusing to neglect a single inch, and Kurt's body shuddered.

The tension in Kurt's shoulders slipped away and he melted against Blaine's careful lips and into the tentative touches. Suddenly…he felt…safe. He felt precious and cared for and he felt like…like he mattered.

You matter, Kurt.

And wasn't that the problem? Wasn't that was he was afraid of? He was afraid of giving his heart to the wrong person, of being tossed about like he was some toy, of heartbreak?

"In fact, I love them," Blaine said from behind him as he let Kurt's shirt fall back down. He wound his arms around Kurt and the pillow he clutched like a lifeline, pulling Kurt back against his chest and leaning against the headboard of the bed. He nuzzled his nose into Kurt's still-wet hair and Kurt wondered is Blaine could smell his own shampoo there. Blaine rained dozens of tiny kisses over Kurt's scalp, holding him even closer.

Kurt sighed happily, bliss washing over him almost like the rainstorm but it felt nothing like pinpricks against his skin. It felt wonderful and for once…he felt like this was where he actually belonged; he belonged right here, in Blaine's strong, capable arms, right against his chest under his chin.

"Kurt…"

"Hmm?" Kurt responded, almost sleepily.

"…I love you."

And if Blaine was expecting some huge exaggerated argument or if he expected Kurt to run out again, Kurt surprised him by snuggling closer.

Because it was okay now.

"I love you, too."

Because this was exactly where he was supposed to be. And one day they'd move on to other things, Kurt assumed. Maybe even next week. But for now, the rain was still falling and he was in a pair of Blaine's sweatpants and Blaine said he loved him.