These Words Are My Own

Kurt was beautiful when they met, lit up in green and red during the Cheerios' Christmas display, showing off with a smile, high kicks and flips and so many moves that looked physically impossible from where Blaine was sitting. The red and white uniform clung sinfully to his skin, riding up to show a tantalising glimpse of stomach or lower back as he danced.

And Blaine, shy, quiet, intelligent Blaine who hid in homework and alternative worlds, letting the pages soak up his hidden loneliness, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful the day Blaine auditioned for glee club, standing before an eclectic band of misfits, shying instinctually away from the four boys in their football jackets, fearing the judging, quietly assessing looks of the cheerleaders and feeling a warmth wash over him at the encouraging smiles from the traditionally unpopular members, the social misfits who had created the group.

And Blaine, who always sang his emotions far better than he said or whispered or murmured them, finding solace from the stuttering, stumbling words his own mind could produce in the poetry of a songwriter, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful as he first approached Blaine, his onstage confidence seeping from his skin, the stage make-up cracking and giving way to the ordinary boy behind the façade, a shy smile and a soft, intimate conversation to make Blaine feel like the only person in the room, only person in the world, the only person Kurt ever wanted to talk to.

And Blaine, who blushed whenever someone talked to him and had to be convinced by Tina every day that it was perfectly fine for him to sit with the social misfit section of New Directions every day at lunch, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful every day as they became closer, as he teased Blaine fondly out of his shell with jokes left in notes on his locker door, the option for coffee with him and usually Quinn or Brittany and Santana - the two girls came as one - every night, giving him an entourage to protect him and friends to tell his brother about when he called to check in.

And Blaine, who no longer had to hide his loneliness in crinkled, yellowing pages, who could now have a serious conversation with Quinn bemoaning her dating woes or talk to Lauren about how seriously she was considering castrating Puck, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful, dressed in street clothes and showing off his knowledge of designers to Sam, whose head it flew straight over, the day Tina noticed something odd about Blaine and confronted him in an otherwise empty choir room, levelling him with a piercing stare until he finally crumbled into ash and confessed his feelings for the famous head cheerleader, leaving her gaping with suspiciously shining eyes.

And Blaine, who was being given knowing glances from all his closer friends - except Kurt, the closest friend but the one who knew nothing - every where he went and was subjected to long quizzes from Tina, Rachel and Mercedes, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful the day of their first kiss, pressed against his side on the piano stool, silent as their eyes met at the end of the song and desperate a moment later as their lips met, one hand pressing lightly at the back of Blaine's neck and his breath playing out a symphony against Blaine's skin as they parted, fervent as he convinced Blaine he felt to the same degree and heartbreakingly silent as Blaine walked out, leaving him behind and hoping that he would realize that Blaine would wait every day for as long as it took.

And Blaine, who spent three hours being berated by first himself and subsequently his brother and sister in turn, harsh words and so many questions of what exactly had been going through his head to walk away from the boy he'd loved from over a year, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful the day he arrived at Blaine's door unannounced and took him out on a real date, eating brownies in the park beneath a shifting moon, walking with hands loosely entwined and talking quietly beneath the shelter of a tree as rain unexpectedly pelted down, Kurt apologising over and over again for the anomaly of a sudden, unpredicted rainstorm and Blaine smiling at his fluster and reassuring him that it didn't matter.

And Blaine, who was pressed gently up against the pillar on his front porch and thoroughly kissed goodbye, who had Kurt whisper that he wanted everything - but in secret - into his ear, and agreed to it after thinking so long about it and hearing convincing arguments from his siblings, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful a few days later when he stood up in front of New Directions, their closest friend, to confess that they were in a secretive relationship, greeted by resounding cheers, triumphant whoops, the exchange of betting money and a thousand whispers and mutters and shouts that it was about time, accompanied by a slight frustration that they couldn't immediately tell everyone they knew of the happy new development.

And Blaine, who blushed when Sam and Puck both clapped him on the back and congratulated him, when Brittany hugged him with a loud squeal and when he guessed Santana was already deviously plotting ways to tease them with endless innuendoes and suggestive smirks, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful when he peered into the bathroom, his eyes filled with distress and worry, after Quinn tipped him off that Blaine had been slushied, pressing a thousand kisses of apology and sympathy into his skin as he bent carefully over the sink, rinsing red dye and chunks of ice out of his hair and finally bending to kiss his forehead, smiling as he left the bathroom without leaving any sign of ever having been there.

And Blaine, who spent the day walking around in a daze of sheer happiness, holding tight to the knowledge that he had a boyfriend who would do such things for him, a towel around his shoulders and knowing looks being shot his way, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful after the first time they made out, transitioning within a single moment from being curled up together completely innocently on the couch to hot, hungry mouths claiming lips, hands roaming out of control until Kurt pulled away, mumbling that they should cool off and blushing slightly as he shuffled away, trying to brush his hair back into something resembling orderly and focusing far too much attention on the TV screen.

And Blaine, who leant back against the cushions, breathing heavily, raising a hand to disbelievingly trace his tingling lips when he was sure Kurt wasn't looking, heart still thumping too fast against his ribs, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful all summer, bathed in the warm sunlight as the days drifted lazily by, from endless afternoons by the pool with drinks and a barbecue on hand and laughter chiming on the soft summer breeze to musky nights with fireflies painting pictures in the sky, the gentle strum of a guitar filling the back gardens of each performer as they lay, wrapped in blankets and each other, exchanging kisses and words of endearment and singing snatches of songs together, the way it should be.

And Blaine, who fondly watched as Kurt performed cheerleading routines in the pool with Quinn, Santana and Brittany and curled in close to him in the nights, laying his head on Kurt's shoulder and singing softly, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was beautiful the morning after their first time, struggling to yank his clothes on in the back of a parked car, desperately patting his crazed post-coital hair and muttering over and over again about how Cooper was going to kill him, throwing Blaine's clothes at him and going through his phone, worrying at his lip as he found numerous texts and missed calls from Cooper, Natalie, his father, Quinn.

And Blaine, who silently dressed himself while gazing longingly at his boyfriend, leaning over to kiss his temple and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly as Kurt gave him a tight, nervous smile, wanted to tell him he loved him.

Kurt was so beautiful on Monday, when everything came crashing down with the help of incriminating photos and an undeniably bitchy newspaper article, crying and running his hands through his hair, scared and out of his depth, leaving Coach Sylvester's office in tears and whispering that he'd been kicked off the Cheerios, kicked off for loving Blaine.

For loving Blaine.

And Blaine, when Kurt whispered those three words, held Kurt's hand against his heart, tried desperately not to simply burst into incredulous tears and told him he loved him.