Boarding at Dalton Academy turned out to be cheaper and much easier than making the trip there and back from Lima every day, so that’s just what Kurt did. Five nights a week he stayed in a dorm with other Dalton students. He liked it well enough- he made friends with several of the boys in his hall, and Blaine’s room was just down the hallway and around the corner. The dorms were fairly nice, situated on the far side of the campus, housing a good number of the boys who attended Dalton(there was a surprisingly large amount of out-of-state students, which made Kurt feel that much more special for attending the high-class school). Most of the rooms were doubles, with the occasional triple. Kurt’s room was a double, and about 50% larger than the room he had at home, so he fit comfortably. Kurt didn’t have a roommate, but that was subject to change-which Kurt sometimes passively worried about, because he was frankly not ready to share a living space with anyone who wouldn’t respect his carefully-organized closet, skin care products(arranged by necessity and height), or study schedule. Most the time, though, he worried about his academics(which were slipping after he humored a pathetic Ohio public school curriculum for over ten years and was then thrust into an elite private school set of courses) and impressing Blaine(which was a sort of confusing, day-to-day ordeal that Kurt himself didn’t even understand).

One part of dorm life that Kurt did not enjoy were the communal bathrooms situated at the center of each floor, expected to be shared by all the boys in the two halls each story contained. They were big enough, but Kurt was perpetually dubious of how sanitary it all was. They weren’t nearly as bad as the McKinley locker rooms that Kurt had been forced to spend a few days in surrounding his dance number and subsequent field kick with the Titans(and those weren’t even his worse memories from that locker room), but the bathrooms still gave Kurt an icky feeling.

Every morning Kurt would scurry down the hall very early, clutching a bag full of skin care products, hair serums and a towel, intent on getting to the bathrooms without being seen by any of his classmates. It was a pain to wake up while it was still dark outside, but Kurt deemed it a necessary sacrifice to prevent being spotted before he was properly coiffed and exfoliated. Then there was the added plus-that when Kurt had the bathroom to himself, he could sing.

Everyone sings in the shower, right? You do too, don’t deny it. And while Kurt is, obviously, a bit of a diva…showers were different. Many people who claim they can’t sing at all sing in the shower. It’s almost the opposite for Kurt-he had a beautiful voice and he knew it, but what he sang in the shower was different. He would never, never sing in the shower with his schoolmates around, even if many of the boarders were Warblers. It was more private, more personal. Kurt couldn’t explain it himself-that’s just the way it was. But when he showered at five thirty in the morning, no one was around to hear him. So he could serenade and rock out all he wanted within his three-by-three foot curtained, blue-tiled stall.

Kurt had been at Dalton for about six weeks when Blaine first heard him. Blaine stayed in a double room with his friend David. Blaine had literally been up all night, finishing a Physics project that was worth a good chunk of his grade. He finished it but couldn’t sleep, and could no longer stand tossing and turning in his bed. So he got up and left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He went downstairs and wandered around the entrance hall on the ground floor, looking at photos of past principals and high-contributing alumni. Eventually he became bored, and his feet got cold-the entrance hall floor was tiled and he was barefoot-so he headed back towards the stairs, planning on walking around the halls until he got sleepy or it was time to get ready. He smiled to himself, thinking of someone blearily leaving their room to go to the bathroom and happening upon him-he would be the pajama’d ghost of the Dalton dorms.

He got up to the third floor, where his room was, about twenty minutes later. He passed by his own room and came to a supply closet. That’s when he heard it: water. Running water. Blaine glanced at his watch and saw that it was still much earlier than anyone needed to be up. He began heading towards the bathroom, but what he heard was definitely a shower, not just a sink. Confused, he came to the bathroom and pushed open the door. Light spilled out, leaving Blaine standing in the doorway for a moment, blinking. Along with the light came that steamy smell that only shower water could make.

Now he could hear something else, too, besides the water. Was that…singing? Blaine closed the door slowly and continued forward past the urinals and sinks, around the bend to the line of showers.

Steam was emanating from the second-to-last one, and a towel was hung on the peg next to it. Now that Blaine was closer, he could hear the singing clearly.

“But there were nights in bars that I recall

Your breath was courage laced with alcohol

You leaned in, you said,

‘Make music with the chatter in here,

And whisper all the notes in my ears.’ “

Blaine raised his eyebrows. He didn’t recognize the song, but he did in fact know who the singer was-Kurt had the highest voice of all the Warblers, making it rather distinct. Blaine glanced at the counter that ran against the far end of the wall and sure enough, there was a light blue bag sitting there, with the initials KH embroidered on it. Blaine smiled and listened to Kurt a bit more. Then he yawned, suddenly tired. He turned around but then hesitated. Should he say anything to Kurt? It was kind of creepy to just listen to him shower and then leave. But for some reason, Blaine kept his mouth closed, and walked quietly out of the bathroom. He felt his way down the hall to his room, silently slipped in, lay down on his bed, and fell asleep within minutes.

Kurt shut off the shower two minutes later, dried himself off, and began styling his hair.

It was about a week later when Blaine woke up suddenly, the last wisps of a nightmare fading into his head. He couldn’t quite remember what it was about, just that it was dark and cold and lonely. He looked up at his alarm clock and saw that it was about an hour before he needed to wake up. He flipped over his pillow and lay down again, about to fall asleep, when there was a whoosh! noise from the wall above him. Blaine groaned, propping himself up on his elbows, and realized it was the pipes. What on Earth? Then he sat all the way up, remembering something that had been playing in his mind all week, that made him smirk a little whenever he saw Kurt, that even made him go online and discover the band Blind Pilot after Googling some of the lyrics he remembered Kurt singing. Again? Blaine wondered. He’d never asked Kurt why he’d been up so early-he couldn’t find a way to do so without letting slip that Blaine had accidentally spied on him. Driven by a curiosity that washed away any semblance of sleepiness, Blaine pushed off his covers, got up, and left the room.

It was the very same shower that was occupied, and the same bag that sat on the counter. The towel was different, this time a sea-foam colored one. And this time, Blaine knew the song that Kurt was singing.

“Can’t read my, can’t read my, no you can’t read my poker face…he’s got me like nobody…”

Kurt sang it slower, giving it more emotion and a bit more gravity than the original version. He played around with the notes, making changes here and there. Blaine strained to hear it all, trying to tune out the sound of the water splashing. It was much more carefree than Kurt usually was. Typically Kurt was strict about sticking to the prewritten music. He was all for pizzazz, but not straight-up modification.

Blaine smiled and leaned against the wall, taking in the soapy smell and the sound of Kurt’s voice. Kurt finished the song with a long, unwavering note that faded off. Blaine froze, suddenly afraid that Kurt would come out, but after a moment he began a rendition of Modern Nature by Sondre Lerche. Sighing in relief, Blaine carefully left the bathroom and went back to sleep.

The next day Kurt and Blaine sat at lunch, surrounded by other boys. Kurt was having a conversation about Oscar nominees with a tall, skinny boy named Paul. Blaine tried to look at Kurt noncommittally as he thought about that morning. He wanted to ask him about singing, how he was so loose and creative when he sang by himself. It was beautiful in a different way from his normal singing. But Blaine, of course, kept all these thoughts to himself.

The next two days, especially at Warbler’s practice after school on Friday, Blaine thought about Kurt’s singing all the time. He said goodbye to Kurt as he left with his red duffel bag, heading back to Lima for the weekend. But even after Kurt was gone Blaine would think about it, before shaking his head and telling himself to let it go.

He couldn’t let it go.

It went so far that on Sunday evening he set his alarm clock for 5:30 AM. Five minutes later he changed it back to its normal time. A half hour after that, it was back to 5:30. And so on. It was switched back and forth three times before Blaine finally fell asleep.

A loud beeping noise filled the dorm room the next morning. There was no sunlight coming in through the window. Blaine sat up blindingly fast, and from across the room, David groaned.

Blaine reached over and pressed the Snooze button. He rubbed his eyes.

“What the hell?” David muttered. “It’s early.”

“Sorry,” Blaine replied, his heart rate a bit above normal. “My alarm must have gone off at the wrong time.”

“Mmmmrrrrg,” was David’s reply. Blaine saw him roll over, taking a pillow and putting it over his head. Within minutes soft snores came from that side of the room.

Blaine let his breath out and ran his fingers through his hair. Decisions, decisions…but Blaine found himself getting up oh-so-quietly, sure not to wake David again. His decision had been made ages ago.

After that morning, and Blaine’s awful oversight about David being in the same room, Blaine had to use his watch’s alarm, which was much quieter, to wake up predawn. Every morning he’d get up, walk to the bathrooms and listen to a song or two, then leave and sleep until his second alarm went off. After a week of this he tried to stop, realizing how stupid and creepy it was, but by then he was in the habit of waking up early, and there wasn’t much else to do at five thirty. So Blaine would effectively stalk Kurt every morning. He felt bad about it, but also…he loved it. It was a side of Kurt that the rest of the world never saw. Kurt held it tight to himself and while Blaine knew he was probably unknowingly wrenching this from Kurt, he couldn’t help himself. 

Some songs Kurt would sing often, at least once a week. But mostly it was a wide range of things, and songs that Blaine wouldn’t think of as suiting Kurt would suddenly become perfect for him, because of the way his voice manipulated them. It was incredible, really. It made Blaine see his friend in a different way all the time. When the Warblers rehearsed and Kurt would stand straight, taking orders and blending in with the rest of the choir, it almost hurt Blaine. Kurt could be so extraordinary, but there he was being like everyone else. Assimilating. Blaine remembered when he told Kurt to blend in, when he first came to Dalton. He sighed, slightly regretful. Fitting in was one thing, but flat-out hiding talent? That was something else all together.

Weeks had passed, and Blaine never altered his schedule. Once or twice David woke up to find him gone, but Blaine easily explained it with a, “I had to go to the bathroom,” which was basically true. There were a few close calls with Kurt himself, when he’d reach out of the shower to get shampoo or soap he’d forgotten, and Blaine would duck around the corner as fast as he could, holding his breath as he waited for the coast to be clear again. A couple times Kurt had finished early, turning off the water and forcing Blaine to escape silently while Kurt dried off.

It was a Thursday morning, just as spring was starting to be apparent, when something didn’t go according to schedule. There had been a sunrise out the window that morning, which brightened Blaine’s mood even more than usual when he got up. He saw himself in his mirror before leaving the room, and happily noticed that his hair looked great for just waking up-still wavier than he liked it, but lying in place and not sticking up everywhere. He walked down the hallway with a smile on his face. It was barely daylight, but he already felt great. Today held promise, he thought.

He crept into the bathroom to hear the end of Animal by Neon Trees. He grinned, and leaned against the wall at the entrance to the shower room, per usual. After Kurt hummed a few lines of a vaguely familiar tune, though, Blaine decided to sit down. He usually didn’t, for fear of being caught, but today he was tired and figured it couldn’t hurt. So he sat down, settled himself in, and closed his eyes as Kurt began to sing again.

“You sit there in your heartache

Waiting for some beautiful boy

To save you from you old ways…”

Blaine nodded. He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus…he sang along in his head. The sound of the water was a constant beat to Kurt’s singing and the steam was so soothing, so lazily comforting…

“Um, Blaine?”

Blaine’s eyes shot open, only to be accosted with the sight of Kurt Hummel standing over him, with a towel around his waist. Kurt’s hair was dripping, and his eyebrows were drawn together.

Blaine stood up as fast as he could, clutching the wall for support.

“Hi,” he said, stupidly, once he was facing Kurt.

Kurt stared at him for a moment. “What are you doing?” Kurt inquired.

“Um,” Blaine said. “I was, um…” several excuses came to mind. Most of them were stupid, but some of them might get him out of this. Then, though, he looked at Kurt, into his clear blue eyes. “I was listening to you sing.” He said it very quickly, before he could change his mind. Courage, he told himself, snickering at the irony.

Kurt’s expression changed from perplexed to startled. He broke eye contact, looking down. “You…you heard me?”

“Yeah.” Blaine replied. “I was just…you’re amazing, you know. Well, obviously you know. But here, it’s…” He was, for once, at a loss of words.

“Don’t even try,” Kurt said. “I know I’m awful. I just, when I’m alone I can…it’s not how I usually sound.”

Even with his face downturned, Blaine could see Kurt’s cheeks coloring.

“Kurt.” Blaine said firmly. He thought about reaching out and grabbing the shy boy’s shoulder, but Kurt wasn’t currently wearing a shirt, so…”What are you talking about? You’re incredible. The way you sing here, is…it’s so different, but it’s better. I love it. You sing with more emotion.”

Kurt looked up at him, his face red. “No, no, you don’t mean that. No one would want to hear me sing like that. It’s just silly stuff, you know.” Kurt bit his lip.

Blaine sighed. “You’re crazy! Plenty of people would like to hear that. I’d want you to sing to me like that.”

Kurt’s mouth opened a little bit, surprised. Blaine’s mouth shut closed though, horrified. He’d just wanted to comfort Kurt, but then he’d said that and it had come out completely the wrong way…

After an awkward moment, Kurt smiled. “Really? You’d like me to sing to you?”

Blaine shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Well, yeah. As much as the next guy, I guess.” His voice cracked a little on the last word. He wanted to die, right then and there.

Kurt’s smile didn’t fade. “Okay. I mean, if you really want me to.” Then he turned around, heading towards his bag and pulling up the striped towel that Blaine had just noticed was starting to slip-

“Wise men say, only fools rush in…” Kurt began as he walked away. “But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

It was slow and sweet and beautiful. Blaine’s breath caught.

“Shall I stay?” Kurt continued, singing it like a real question. “Would it be a sin…if I can’t help falling in love, with you.”

Kurt reached the back wall and turned around, leaning against the counter. His eyes looked straight at Blaine.

“Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling, so it goes,” His tone turned from playful to serious, “Some things, are meant to be.”

Kurt pushed off the counter, walking towards Blaine again. “Take my hand, take my whole life too, if I can’t help falling in love, with you.”

Kurt nodded to Blaine, who took a deep breath. “Like a river flows, surely to the sea,” Blaine sang tentatively, an octave lower than Kurt. “Darling, so it goes,”

“Some things,” they both sang, “Are meant to be.”

“So won’t you please-“ Kurt interjected.

“Take my hand” Blaine continued. “Take my whole life too…”

Kurt reached Blaine again, and they finished the song face-to-face.

“For I can’t help falling in love with you. I can’t help…falling in love, with, you.”

It was silent then, except for their breathing, and they stood there for a few seconds.

Blaine gazed into Kurt’s innocent blue eyes, so clear and deep. Then he leaned even closer, because everything about this moment seemed so right. He waited a second, hesitating so Kurt could pull back or look away, but he didn’t. So Blaine closed the short distance between them, and pressed his lips to Kurt’s.

The kiss was soft, gentle. It lasted a few seconds at most. But it was the best moment of Kurt’s life. When Blaine pulled away, Kurt followed him, and they kissed again. This time it was longer, but no less tender.

They separated, and stood there staring at eachother for a full minute. Then they heard a noise. Footsteps, from outside. The other students were waking up.

“I…” Kurt started, but couldn’t figure out how to finish.

“Go put some clothes on,” Blaine told him firmly. “I don’t want to get past first base before I take you out on a date.”

Kurt’s face cracked with a smile that spread from cheek to cheek, brightening his whole body(much of which Blaine had a nice view of).

“Sounds like a plan,” Kurt replied. He picked up his bag and turned to go, but then paused. “By the way,” he said slyly, “Nice pajamas.”

He walked away as Blaine realized with disdain that he was sporting the Rugrats pajama pants David and Wes had gotten him as a joke for Christmas. Blaine leaned back against the wall and slid down it. Of course, when he finally makes his move, Kurt’s wearing practically nothing and he himself was wearing the dorkiest thing possible. He ran his fingers through his unstyled hair and sighed. Despite his mortification, he was still happier than he could ever remember being. Funny how love works like that.