Kurt can't help but stare at Blaine. He's just— well, there's no words for what he is. Beautiful, maybe, but if he ever said that aloud, he think that Blaine might get the wrong impression. It's just that handsome doesn't do him justice, and gorgeous is so overused these days that it hardly means more than hot anymore.

The light comes in through the glass doors, making his skin glow wherever it touches. Kurt bites his lip as his eyes trace the face from light to shadow, Blaine chattering on obliviously about how 'wonderful' Dalton is, and how much Kurt would love it, and Kurt believes him— not because of the 'zero-tolerance bullying policy', which does sound amazing— but because Blaine is there, and anywhere that Blaine is sounds like a really great place to be, too.

Kurt mindlessly rotates his almost-empty cup of coffee, content to pretend he's listening, while in reality, he's watching the movement of Blaine's lips and the soft, self-assured look in his eyes. It's not cocky, not at all— that's not the kind of guy that Blaine is. Confident, sure. But, right now, it's about Kurt, and Blaine is making it about Kurt in a way that no one else ever has, and the blue-eyed boy just can't get enough.

Blaine has finally stopped talking, now, and is looking at Kurt expectantly. He's obviously either just noticed that Kurt isn't paying attention, or he's asked some sort of question that Kurt didn't hear. He feels his face flush under the thorough observation of hazel eyes— so much more than brown, green, or gray, a combination of colors that swirls and kind of reminds Kurt of how the leaves look just as they begin to change colors—and has to look away.

Movement outside of the glass doors catches his eye, and he watches wistfully as a vaguely-familiar elderly couple holds hands, talking comfortably in the sunlight, unmoving even as others come and go. Somehow, they have withstood the test of time, even while the world changes around them, ignoring everything but love. Because love is really the only thing that matters.

Kurt wishes he knew what that felt like.

"—Kurt, earth to Kurt. Are you even listening to me, because I'm starting to feel kind of stupid."

Kurt startles slightly, his attention returning to Blaine. He almost expects to see an aggravated expression, like Mercedes would have given him, but Blaine only smiles at him with fond exasperation. Kurt's heart speeds slightly, and even though it's much too early for butterflies to even think of fluttering in his stomach, they definitely are. It's barely been any time at all, but Kurt has already fallen, and he's fallen hard.

"Sorry," he mumbles, lifting the foam cup to his lips and sipping the last dregs of his cooling caffeine. "Care to repeat?"

Blaine gives an irritated huff, but his badly-hidden grin kills the effect. "Maybe if you tell me what you were thinking about that distracted you so much from my riveting conversation."

"Riveting conversation? Wow, Blaine, how very dapper of you."

Blaine snorts, and Kurt takes the opportunity to distract him. "Tell me more about Dalton," he insists, ducking his head slightly and looking up at him through his eyelashes, the same way he does whenever he's attempting to soften up Mercedes. "It sounds… nice. To have people that accept you, no matter what."

Blaine blinks slowly, eyes wide, almost as if he's the one distracted this time and not quite sure of what he was just saying. Kurt watches and waits expectantly as the other boy snaps out of it, the faintest tinge of pink high on his cheekbones, and Kurt could barely be sure if it was more than a trick of the light. "Uh, well—"

As Blaine prattles on, Kurt folds his hands and rests his cheek on them, trying and failing to hide his smile and tries his very best to pay attention this time.

And he starts to think that maybe, if all goes well, someday he might know what that kind of love feels like. But, for right now, just watching Blaine talk and feeling the butterflies in his stomach is enough.