Blaine felt Kurt watching him, a tingle on the back of his neck that didn’t disappear until he got inside a building that was definitely not the dorm building and definitely not where he had been intending to go - although now Blaine thought about it, going back to his dorm room, the room he shared with Kurt, was probably not such a good idea. Kurt needed his bed and a warm jacket more than Blaine needed solitude. Kurt had been freezing out there, Blaine himself had felt his icy cheeks under his hands.

Blaine pushed that image away as soon as it surfaced, only to have it replaced with another - Kurt slumped against the wall, cold and alone, miserable, feeling like no one cared about him or even knew who he was anymore. And way he’d smiled at Blaine - and then the way that smile had instantly disappeared when Blaine started walking away and Blaine had made it worse. Blaine had left him alone again. How could he have done that to Kurt? For so long, all he’d wanted to do was make Kurt happy, to make all of his problems go away, and now Blaine was one of his problems.

But he wasn’t his only one, Blaine consoled himself.

Because Kurt had kissed him, not the other way around. Kurt had been the one who leaned in, who moved his mouth over Blaine’s. Kurt had done it first. So what did that mean?

And what did it mean about Blaine that, as Kurt had pulled away, as he’d had the opportunity to stop this entire thing before it spiralled even further out of control, Blaine had practically forced Kurt’s mouth back onto his? And... Blaine couldn’t even think about the whole love thing - because where had that even come from? He didn’t love Kurt, did he?

No - no, no, he wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t going to let himself think about that. Not yet. Love was too much to deal with - Blaine was still trying to wrap his head around liking Kurt.

He’d liked kissing him. Blaine had liked kissing Kurt, kissing another boy. He had proof now, that he wasn’t making the whole liking a boy ordeal up in his head as some sort of sadistic plot on behalf of his subconscious to get himself declared too insane to go to college. He’d liked the feel of Kurt’s face in his hands and Kurt’s arms wrapped around him and being so close to him, and how warm Kurt’s mouth had been on his compared to the rest of his body, how he’d been able to taste him, how he was could still taste him several minutes later.

And, Blaine realised, he wanted to do it again. Because he was wondering - what would it feel like if Kurt cupped Blaine’s face in his hands? What would Kurt’s waist - or his hips - feel like under Blaine’s hands? Blaine thought of all of the places Kurt’s hands could go - tangled in his hair, on the back of his neck, around his shoulders - and thought about all of the places he wanted his hands to go on Kurt.

Blaine wanted to know all of these things - and he hated himself for it.

Because it was wrong, he told himself. He had to keep telling himself that, to try and push down the bubbling excitement at the realisation that - hey, Kurt had kissed him. That meant Kurt liked him that same way he liked Kurt. It was wrong. Those feelings, both of their feelings, were completely and totally negated by the fact that they were both boys.

And, of course, it was too scary. Because it was real now. Blaine liked Kurt and Kurt liked Blaine and they both knew that the other liked them, so - but what if Kurt thought Blaine leaving, running away again, meant that Blaine hated him? That he didn’t feel the same way?

Blaine had to get back to Kurt. He had to put this right, once and for all. He had to get back to their dorm room, and that meant he had to stop mindlessly wandering and think about where his feet were carrying him. But where was he? He thought he recognised the corridor he was standing in, but he poked his head through the nearest open doorway to check, and yes, he was right.

He took a few steps forward to stand in the wings of the stage in the school hall.

~

Kurt, after watching Blaine storm of across the quad, had hurried back into the dorm building, shaking harder than ever, chilled to the bone and with his entire body running purely on nervous, terrified energy that was making it hard to get a steady grip on the banister as he pulled himself up the stairs.

It was too much.

Kurt had seen it in Blaine’s eye as they’d joked over the birthday card that Kurt now realised he’d left on the ground in the quad where Blaine had dropped it. He’d seen Blaine looking at him in a way no one ever had before. Kurt’s heart was still thumping in his ears the way it had been as he’d leant in the first time, his body not quite having caught up with what was going on.

Both of them had been unsure, but for different reasons. Kurt knew what he was - he’d certainly been taunted about it enough at his old school for the message to sink in even if he hadn’t already accepted it about himself. He had been almost certain Blaine wasn’t the same as he’d leant in, and had, most regrettably, been proven right a minute later when Blaine had stormed away.

But Blaine obviously felt something, even if he wasn’t going to admit it to himself, because just as Kurt had been pulling away from Blaine’s unresponsive lips, thinking that he had made a terrible mistake, that he had moved too soon and should have at least said something first, Blaine had slid his hands up to Kurt’s cheeks, held his face like it was the most precious thing in the world for a second, before pulling him close again.

Kurt kept that image, that feeling, on repeat in his head and it was the only thing that kept the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from not spilling over until he reached his dorm room and closed the door behind him.

He blinked rapidly and tried to keep his breath steady as he sat down on his bed and looked at himself in his mirror. His face was almost deathly pale, the only colour in it the red framing his eyes and his bright pink lips. God, no wonder Blaine had run away so fast - he looked a mess. He rubbed at his face with the starchy cuff of his shirt and then leant forward, his elbows propped up on his knees, and rested his forehead on the heels of his hands.

He couldn’t believe he’d done it again. When he’d arrived at Dalton, he’d promised himself he was just going to get through the year, graduate, and get into a college in New York City, so he could get into the music scene there liked he’d always dreamed of. He’d looked at this year like a dry run for what it might be like living somewhere that wasn’t Lima - but he wasn’t stupid. He knew this was a strict boarding school in the mid-West. So he’d promised himself - he was going to focus on getting grades good enough to get into one of his preferred schools and get used to not having parents for extended periods of time, and he was just going to forget about the fact that he was romantically attracted to anyone, let alone that it wasn’t girls.

But that resolve had weakened the second he’d noticed Blaine looking at him on the front lawn on his first day here, and had all but disappeared completely when he’d found out they were roommates. He’d tried to convince himself that he just wanted to be friends with Blaine - just because he liked some boys didn’t mean he liked all of them! He didn’t want to kiss Wes or David or any of the other boys in his class - but it was that realisation that had made Kurt sure that he did like Blaine, because he felt differently about him than he did about anyone else.

But then Kurt had gone and acted on his feelings, like he’d been trying to train himself not to do, and now it was just going to be history repeating itself. People were going to find out, like they had in Lima - everyone there had known about what happened in the locker room with that stupid blond jock that Kurt had been so convinced he’d been in love with. People would stop talking to him, avoid his eyes, go out of their way to not bump into him, until eventually it would reach breaking point, someone would realise just how disgusting he thought Kurt was, and he’d get shoved. Except this time his dad wouldn’t believe it was just because Kurt looked different and had a quick mouth. His dad would find out the truth about his son.

But what Kurt dreaded about all of that was that the person who finally snapped would be Blaine. Kurt wouldn’t blame him if it was - he’d learnt the hard way that boys didn’t really appreciate being kissed by other boys. But Kurt didn’t know if he would be able to take Blaine telling him all of the things he’d heard every day back in Lima. Sure, Blaine had said that he didn’t think Kurt was weird or bad or stupid, but that had been before Kurt had gone and kissed him. He was sure Blaine must think all of those things, and worse, about him now - Kurt only hoped maybe he’d be able to get through this entire ordeal without Blaine saying any of those things to his face.

And, Kurt realised, that was what was scaring him the most of all - just how much Blaine could hurt him, if he wanted to.

~

Blaine stared out at the darkened stage, silent and still. This was where everything had started, where he had first noticed Kurt in way that was different to how he’d ever noticed anyone else before. Even just standing there, he could remember the way he’d felt that day again - the desperate need he’d felt to see Kurt, the real Kurt, not just an act or a persona. It was now blindingly obvious to Blaine why Kurt kept his barriers up so much, and he wondered how much of the real Kurt he’d seen.

He wandered out into the centre of the stage, replaying every conversation he’d had with Kurt in his head. All the sarcasm and the jokes at his own expense - that was a defence, Blaine was sure. But the way Kurt had looked when Mr Keating had been talking about performing during their first Music lesson, scared and almost helpless, that was real. The hurt deep in Kurt’s eyes after Blaine had pulled away and told him no earlier that evening, that was real. And the wide grin Kurt wore after he’d hit the high F, that was real too.

Blaine took a few steps forward so he was closer to the front of stage, his chest a little lighter at the memory of Kurt’s smiling face until he heard a voice. ‘Mr Anderson? Shouldn’t you be in your dorm?’

Blaine felt his stomach jolt, his eyes frantically scanning the shadowy room until he saw movement up the back of the hall, behind the rows of chairs, and Mr Keating stepped forward. ‘Sir?’ Blaine called.

‘What are you doing here?’ Mr Keating asked, his voice laced with concern.

‘I-I’m sorry, I know I should be in my dorm, Mr Keating,’ Blaine stuttered, making to leave the stage.

‘Wait!’ Mr Keating called, and Blaine turned around again in time to see him hurrying down the aisle between the seats. Blaine paused. ‘Come down here,’ Mr Keating called, gesturing to the front row of chairs.

Blaine did was he was told, descending the stairs at the side of the stage and walking across to take the seat next to the one Mr Keating had settled into. ‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be out of my dorm after-’

‘Blaine!’ Mr Keating snapped, the use of his first name making Blaine jump. ‘I don’t care that you’re not in your dorm. Just sit down. You look upset.’

Blaine sat down stiffly. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, his voice wavering and giving him away.

Mr Keating gave him a pointed look. ‘What’s wrong?’

Blaine resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands and cry.

'School? Stressing about college applications?' Mr Keating suggested.

Blaine shook his head. 'No,' he said, his voice coming out scratchy. 'No, nothing like that.'

'Well, what is then?' Mr Keating asked.

Blaine stared up at the now empty stage, picturing Kurt again. 'I'm having some...uh... some feelings - feelings I don’t understand,’ Blaine said shakily.

Mr Keating was silent for a second, and Blaine looked over to see him squinting back. ‘Okay...’ Mr Keating started, and Blaine braced himself for what he thought Mr Keating’s next question was going to be - what were these feelings? ‘What... what exactly don’t you understand about them?’

Blaine was surprised, and actually had to think for a moment before answering. ‘I guess... I guess it’s not so much that I don’t understand them,’ Blaine conceded. ‘I just... can’t accept them.’

Mr Keating continued to consider him, his gaze almost challenging. ‘Why not? What’s so unacceptable about them?’

Blaine’s heart started thumping, the blood rushing in his ears and distracting him from trying to come up with a coherent answer. They were getting dangerously close to Blaine admitting everything. ‘I - I don’t - I can’t -’ Blaine couldn’t think of a way to say what he was thinking - mostly because he didn’t know what he was thinking.

‘Can I give you some advice?’ Mr Keating asked, waiting until Blaine nodded to continue. ‘Whatever these feelings are - and I’m not going to ask, that’s your prerogative, to tell me if you want.’ Blaine breathed a quiet sigh of relief. ‘But whatever they are,’ Mr Keating went on, ‘I don’t think you should... deny them. You’ll only hurt yourself. Even if the rest of the world thinks they’re wrong, if they’ve taught you that they’re wrong - they’re still your emotions. You have every right to them.’

Blaine looked up at Mr Keating then, wondering - his advice was scarily specific to Blaine’s situation, almost like he knew. Blaine forced himself to smile gratefully at him.

Mr Keating smiled back. ‘Now, you should get back to your dorm - it’s almost lights out. And I think maybe your friends could be a bit more help in this situation than your old wrinkly Music teacher,’ Mr Keating laughed.

Blaine smiled again, standing up. ‘Thank you, Mr Keating,’ he said quietly.

Mr Keating continued on with his previous thought like Blaine hadn’t spoken. ‘Yes, I think your friends would be much more use than me - and who’s your roommate again?’

Blaine swallowed. ‘Kurt. Hummel. Kurt Hummel. Sir.’

Mr Keating grinned at him, his eyes sparkling with something that, to Blaine, looked almost like cheekiness. ‘Yes, of course. Take it to Mr Hummel. He’ll help you sort it out.’

~

Kurt was still sitting on his bed, his face buried in the pillow he had his arms wrapped around like he was hugging it, when he heard footsteps and the door opening. He looked up with wide, watery eyes to see Blaine leaning stiffly against the back of the door, his eyes unreadable and lips pressed together in a tight line.

Kurt forced the gears in his brain to turn until he could get his voice to work. ‘I’m really sorry.’

Blaine looked surprised by this, and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but once Kurt had started talking he didn’t seem to be able to stop.

‘I - I totally understand if you never want to talk to me again or see me again, I do, and I - I - we can change dorms, I’ll move dorms - I mean, I don’t even know if you’re allowed to just do that but - but I’ll convince them, I’ll tell Nolan whatever I have to, I promise. And - and I won’t tell anyone what - what really happened, I promise -’

‘Kurt-’ Blaine tried to interrupt, but Kurt kept going, not meeting his eyes.

‘I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise, and I won’t tell anyone you kissed me back, because... because well I understand - that - that’s what you do if someone’s kissing you, I mean, it’s all my fault, obviously it’s all my fault, and I’m so sorry -’

‘Kurt!’ Blaine said again, louder this time. Kurt looked up, and his heart stopped at the serious expression on his face. His mouth, however, did not.

‘I understand if you hate me now - and... and I know what you’re thinking. That I’m disgusting and a disgrace and it’s unnatural. I know that, I know I am - but - but please don’t - don’t say it. Please just trust me - not that you have any reason to, but, please, just do for a second - because I already know I am all that stuff - so please, please don’t say it, I don’t think I could take it -’

Kurt had started to cry again, hiccuping over his words, and Blaine’s face fell. He stepped forward, reaching out towards Kurt, and Kurt’s sob caught in his throat and he drew backwards. But Blaine’s hands didn’t go for Kurt - instead, they reached out for the Dalton gym sweatshirt hanging on a post at the end of Kurt’s bed. ‘Lift your arms up,’ Blaine said.

‘What?’ Kurt asked, eyes flickering over Blaine as he stood above him, not looking him in the eye.

‘Lift your arms up,’ Blaine repeated, and Kurt did what he said. Blaine pulled the sweatshirt over his head, muttering, ‘You looked cold,’ as his hands hovered at Kurt’s hips for a second longer than necessary.

‘What - Blaine, what - you mean you don’t -’

Blaine shut him up by pressing their lips together again.