It was mid-afternoon. The sun was beaming down on the grounds of Dalton with all of its impressive summer glow. Heat waves were rising up from the pavement, visibly blurring the view Kurt had of the courtyard from where he was stood. He couldn’t help but be grateful that the house was so large and cast in just enough shadow by the surrounding trees that it remained cool, even in the intolerably stuffy servant’s quarters.

It was, as he’d grown used to over the past several weeks, a typical afternoon in the house. Lord Dalton was shut away in his study; smoking a cigar, Kurt imagined, and seeing to bills and his professional duties. The lady of the house had taken to the drawing room, sewing at hand, waiting for tea to be served at half past four on the dot. Blaine had returned from his horse ride an hour or so ago, dirty and sweaty, his hair a wayward mess of curls. Kurt had seen that Blaine was changed into afternoon clothing and ensured that his riding clothes were clean and dry again ready for the next day before continuing with his duties around the house.

He made his way to the library, opening the heavy wooden door with a long, loud creak. For a moment the place seemed empty, as though it had been out of use for years. He breathed in the smell of dust and old paper, their pleasant familiarity encompassing him in a warm embrace. And then, to his left - only just in his peripheral vision - a figure shifted.

“Hummel,” came Blaine’s voice, his grinning face peering up over a thick book. Kurt turned around and took in the sight of him, having to fight back the urge to laugh at the image he was presented with. Blaine was all but curled up on the chair in the corner, a small pile of books surrounding him, plenty as his disposal. The gentleman was such a bookworm, Kurt hardily knew how he hadn’t read every book in the library half a dozen times over by now. Maybe he had.

“Master Anderson,” Kurt said, his voice high-pitched with surprise. “I hope I’ve not disturbed you. I can leave, of course.”

Kurt made his way back toward the door, but Blaine shook his head. “No, no, don’t be silly. Stay.” Blaine put his book down and watched Kurt, who, having suddenly forgotten the reason he had entered the library at all, stood unmoving and awkward under Blaine’s gaze.

“The sunshine is beautiful in here,” Kurt noted to relieve the tension that stretched between them. Blaine nodded.

“It is, quite. For a library, at least.”

Suddenly Blaine was on his feet, and he beckoned for Kurt to follow him as he walked along the narrow shelves of books to the end of the room, some several feet away, and disappeared behind one of them. Kurt obeyed, following Blaine’s footsteps and meeting him by a large, ornate window that peered out onto the rose garden below. Some panels of the glass were stained different colors, casting rainbows along the floor, across Blaine’s face and, Kurt suspected, across his own as well.

“The person who designed this room to be a library... I’ve never been able to decide whether he was an idiot or a genius.”

“Why do you say that, milord?”

“This window; the light, the way it floods in - it would have been fine in a dining room where everybody could admire it. When the sun reaches it about this time every afternoon it shines, like so. And certainly it looks over the loveliest garden in the grounds, don’t you think?”

Kurt nodded, eyes trained upon Blaine rather than the window.

“But instead it’s in the library, tucked away at the back behind shelves of dusty old books where nobody ever comes.”

“So what would be genius about it, milord?” Kurt asked, having lost Blaine’s train of thought altogether.

“This is the grandest part of the house by far, Hummel. And nobody knows about it, and neither does anybody care. It’s almost... a secret.”

Blaine smiled, drawing his attention away from the window to focus on Kurt. “And now I suppose it is our secret.”

Kurt still wasn’t entirely sure how a window could be a secret - surely people noticed the very same window when they came to the library, noticed how the light shone into the room in spirals, shadows cast where the glass was cut off by the frames keeping the whole thing together. Surely they noticed the way the floor seemingly glittered underneath the window, patches of red, green, yellow, blue stretching from one wall of the room to the other. But Blaine was looking at Kurt in a way he’d never seen before; his eyes wide, searching for something.

“You can keep a secret, can’t you, Hummel?”

Kurt nodded, and with a final grin Blaine returned back to his books without another word. Quite at a loss as to what his duties in the library had been at all, Kurt took one final look at the window, at the garden below, and left the room. Blaine’s voice echoed in his head, even as he walked toward the dining room to ensure the table was set for dinner.

You can keep a secret, can’t you, Hummel?

Kurt’s mind reeled with questions as he lay down enough silver cutlery for three at the dining table, his hands working by themselves with the familiarity of it all. Had Blaine been referring only to the secret window or had he other secrets that he wanted Kurt to keep?

You can keep a secret, can’t you, Hummel?

Yes, Kurt concluded. He could keep a secret. He would keep any secret that Blaine had to share with him.