When Blaine emailed his paper to Dr. Birk, he felt exposed. Maybe he should have stuck with his original topic instead of writing on something so impulsive and completely personal. He could have waxed poetic about Love, Actually for pages and pages, despite the fact that there was no length requirement. What if she’d been looking for something more in general and not at all as personal as Blaine had given her? Not that he was worried about his grade, which he was, but more so he was worried about what she would think of him. It was too late, though, and he’d just have to wait for her to grade it and get it back to him which wouldn’t happen until the middle of the week.

The best distraction from his concerns was Kurt, who was at Java Central every morning to meet him for coffee and the occasional biscotti or croissant for breakfast. Kurt, who slipped his hand into his at almost any given opportunity – while they were sitting there, or while they were walking onto campus if Blaine had finished his coffee and didn’t have the cup to hold. It was comfortable, and Blaine couldn’t help but feel like it had been happening for much longer than it actually had. That was how it felt when it was so natural, he supposed.

Starting his days with Kurt was easily the best way to head into the day in the greatest mood possible. Blaine always headed off to class with a smile on his face, his heart feeling light. That was why when Wednesday came, he didn’t even realize that he was going to be getting his paper back from Dr. Birk. He was too busy remembering the way Kurt’s hand had felt in his, the soft trace of fingers against his arm as they’d walked down the sidewalk. He’d never tried to kiss him goodbye before class, a point for which Blaine was glad, not feeling comfortable with that much a show of affection out where anyone could see them. He was even gladder that he hadn’t actually had to tell Kurt that.

He settled into the same desk where he’d sat for every class prior, glad that people were creatures of habit and had the tendency to do the same as him. Knowing that he had his normal desk, he didn’t have to try and find someplace else, it was a small comfort. He liked sitting off to the side, not really in anyone’s direct view. It made it easier for Roscoe, being able to lie down between his chair and the wall of the classroom, not being in anyone’s way in case they needed to get out.

It wasn’t until Dr. Birk started passing back everyone’s papers and talking about how much she’d enjoyed reading them that Blaine remembered. She paused by his desk, quietly telling him that she’d emailed him back with her comments. It was something he’d gotten all of his professors to agree to, since them writing on a hard copy of his work wouldn’t work. Her fingertips brushed lightly against his shoulder as he nodded, and then she moved on to the students in front of him. Of course she’d emailed him, but he hadn’t taken the opportunity to check that morning. He could tell from the pit in his stomach that he was going to be anxious all day until he knew what she’d thought.

“Alright, so now that you all have your papers back, do we have any volunteers to read theirs out loud for everyone else? No need to be shy, they were all insightful.” Blaine figured he should have taken that as a reassurance, but he didn’t. He wasn’t able to read his out loud for the class, so that statement might not have applied to him.

Surprisingly, several of his classmates volunteered. He heard a girl named Sarah talk about how her favorite movie of all time was Stardust and how the relationship between Tristan and Yvaine was one of the most beautifully developed she’d ever seen on film. There was then an argument made for Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice thanks to Maria, who specified that movie-wise the newer version starring Matthew McFayden and Keira Knightly was definitely inferior to the Colin Firth BBC miniseries. The book, she conceded, was the best version of all, but if they were looking at film then obviously Team Firth was the winner. When someone else started quoting Taylor Swift lyrics, it was all Blaine could do to stay in his seat and not just flee the room.

He’d overthought the assignment, just like he knew he had the second he’d sent it in to Dr. Birk. Everyone else, their papers were good and slightly generalized but definitely not as introspective as his had been. The ones he heard, they had written in a way that applied what they were saying to the population as a whole. Relationship X in movie Y could be seen in real life if you just went to location Z and looked around for a while. His had been too personal, too much only about him and not in a way that could apply to anyone else. He spent most of the class slouched in his seat, skimming his fingers along pages of the book that they were going to be reading for that coming week.

Class was dismissed and he quickly left the building, heading across the quad for the fine arts building and going straight to the elevator and up to the second floor. He went into the hallway of practice rooms, disappearing into the first one he found that didn’t have someone inside. Blaine felt like he had when Kurt had first found him in the auditorium, exposed and raw and needing something to hide behind. That was why he’d headed there instead of straight to his next class, where he would have had extra time to just sit and stew in his thoughts. He had a little time to kill and he needed to shut down his mind and lose himself until he had to go.

He didn’t think, just played. The practice room was loud and the acoustics were horrible compared to the auditorium, or even the classroom where he and Kurt had been over the weekend. There was someone next door practicing their clarinet, which Roscoe didn’t seem to care for if the thwacking of his tail against Blaine’s leg was any indication. None of those things mattered as his fingers flew across the keys, pounding out notes and rhythms and keeping him from focusing on anything else.

Cooper had always joked that the reason Blaine sometimes had trouble expressing himself through words was because he thought more in music than vernacular. Blaine had always shrugged it off, saying that he was perfectly capable of using his words. Deep down, they both knew Cooper was right. Anytime Blaine got flustered, got overwhelmed, got emotional, there was only one thing he wanted. Either he needed to play or needed to put his headphones in and block out everything else, but no matter what it was always music. It didn’t always have to fit the mood, sometimes it was better if it didn’t, but what mattered most was that it was there to take him away.

That was why the clarinet being played in the next room didn’t matter. Why Roscoe’s tail hitting him over and over in the leg didn’t matter. The way the piano had a slightly different timbre than any other than he’d played there, that didn’t matter either. Nothing mattered except the music, and that alone made him breathe easier and quelled the anxiety that had been knotting up inside of him for the entire hour and a half he’d been in class. At least it did, right up until he’d finished and lifted his hands off the keys long enough to think of something else to play, but before he could start up again there was a sharp rap on the door and it swung open with no other warning.

“Mike, that sounded fantas—oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.” His head snapped up and he took in a sharp breath, the intrusion shocking him back to reality. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, despite the fact that it felt anything but. “I shouldn’t… it’s fine.” He shook his head, grabbing his bag up off the floor.

“You don’t have to leave,” she said, but Blaine hooked the strap of his bag over his shoulder anyway.

“You’re allowed to practice, I interrupted, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not practicing,” he mumbled, getting to his feet and reaching down for Roscoe’s harness. “Just playing. I… have to go.”

“O-okay,” the woman stammered, and Blaine could feel his chest and throat tightening as he brushed past her and back down to the elevator. His hand clenched and unclenched at his side as he tried to keep his emotions in check. The last thing he needed was to start crying just because he was having an off day and had gotten startled. At least, that’s what he kept repeating to himself as the elevator took him back down to the main floor and he tried to leave the building as quickly as possible.

“Blaine?” He stopped at the sound of Kurt’s voice, his hand moving up to clutch the strap of his bag. Kurt’s hand rest against his back, right between his shoulder blades, and Blaine took in a deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Blaine said, feeling the exact opposite. His voice wavered, even just on those two words, and he squeezed tighter at the soft leather of the strap in his hand. He cleared his throat, hoping to sound more believable the second time around. “I’m fine, I just have to go to class.”

“Okay,” Kurt said quietly, his thumb rubbing against the soft knit of his cardigan. Blaine swayed a little on the spot, wanting to stand there and let Kurt do that for the rest of the day if he could, but he knew he had to go. As much as that small contact made him start to relax, he wasn’t lying about having a class. “We’ll talk later?”

“Yeah.” He nodded and Kurt moved his hand up to give his shoulder a light squeeze before letting go and letting Blaine head out of the building.

Classes the rest of the day felt like torture. There weren’t many of them, a fact for which Blaine was grateful. Sitting through lectures and group discussions were not his favorite past times when his head was so full of other thoughts. Part of him knew he was being ridiculous, that he should just wait and see what Dr. Birk had to say before he let himself react, but he wasn’t wired that way. He made assumptions, he reacted proactively, and he had trouble unwinding when he got caught off guard.

Santana had a night class on Wednesdays, which meant Blaine had the house entirely to himself when he got home. He was glad for it, the peace and quiet and not having to deal with her for the time being. He didn’t mind her, not normally, but she’d been in a mood ever since the party and refusing to talk about it. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he had been in a good headspace but as matters stood, he was grateful for the empty house.

He settled in at his desk, turning on his computer and logging in to check his email. His fingertips rest over  the braille display that translated what was on the screen for him, and he deleted several mailings from the school before he got to the response from Dr. Birk.

Blaine, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me. That is one of my favorite Beatles songs, and I’m glad to know that you enjoy it as much as you do. You bring up a very good point, the intimacy of hand holding, and I wanted to thank you for sharing your personal views with me. Out of everyone in the class, I believe that you’re the one who delved the most into themselves with this assignment, which is something I always look forward to reading. My normal method of grading is drawing smiley faces all over the papers when I read something I like, so I guess I should say to consider your paper completely littered with my doodles and smiles, because it truly was a joy to read. I look forward to reading your assignments for the rest of the semester.

He felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. She’d liked his paper, even though it had been different than all the other ones he’d heard in class. He’d spent the entire day thinking he was going to get home and read an email about how he’d missed the point entire, but it was the exact opposite. All the feelings of self-doubt and anxiety about it had been completely uncalled for, and he wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse. He felt completely exhausted after being on edge for so long, and it had all been for no good reason.

Not wanting to waste any more of his day, he got out a book for one of his classes and folded the front cover back, setting in to start reading. He barely got through the first chapter before he lost focus, unable to pay attention long enough to decipher the words beneath his fingers. That was when he decided to change into more comfortable clothes, because he didn’t plan on leaving the house again that evening, and crawl into bed for a while. He tried calling his brother, just for someone to talk to about his day, because Cooper at least made a good effort to understand how his head worked most of the time, but he didn’t get an answer.

Blaine was halfway to dozing off when his phone buzzed beside his pillow. He groaned, annoyed that he hadn’t remembered to switch it back from silent after he’d gotten home, and reached to answer it. “Coop?”

“Blaine?”

“That’s me…”

“Did I wake you up?” Blaine blinked a few times as he became more aware of the fact that it most definitely wasn’t his brother on the other end of the line. “Blaine?”

“Oh, sorry Kurt. I was just… lying down for a few minutes.” He cleared his throat, trying to sound less groggy. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m sorry for waking you up,” Kurt said. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m alright. Are you fine? You seemed a little out of it earlier.”

“Oh yeah I’m… I’m fine. I was having a moment, being stupid.”

“Dr. Salido says she’s sorry for interrupting you.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Salido… she saw me talking to you before you left and she told me what happened. She feels bad for scaring you like that; she thought you were one of her students. Apparently you were playing whatever he’s working on for his recital? She asked me to let you know.”

“Oh. She’s… I should be the one apologizing, I think I was rude.”

“Are you going to make her dinner, too?” Blaine almost smiled against his pillow at that, but shook his head. It took him a few seconds to remember that he was on the phone and that wasn’t a helpful response.

“Nope, she’s not my type.”

“Well thank goodness for that, because I don’t like sharing.” Kurt sounded vaguely amused, and Blaine couldn’t help but blush slightly. They hadn’t exactly defined anything, and that was fine, but he liked when Kurt said statements that were possessive sounding like that. It reassured him that he wasn’t just making things up. “That means you’re free for dinner tonight then?”

“Um, yes?” Blaine rubbed at his eyes and sat up, untangling his legs from the blankets on his bed.

“Perfect. I’m going to invite myself over, but I’ll order us in something to make up for my rudeness in doing so,” Kurt said. “When can I come over?”

“Anytime,” Blaine said, his hand moving up to smooth down his hair. It was all mussed from how it’d been pressed against the pillow, and he made a face as it wouldn’t stay down. “Just let me know when?”

“Well I just got out of my rehearsal, so I’m going to swing by my room real quick and then I’ll head your way. So it’ll be about fifteen minutes tops, does that work?”

“That’s fine.”

“See you soon!”

Blaine dropped his phone back onto the bed as he heard the silence of Kurt hanging up. He grabbed it again quickly to turn the volume on, and then shuffled his way off to the bathroom to get his hair under control. Normally he would consider hopping in the shower and just starting from the beginning but he didn’t have that kind of time, so he made do with a little more gel and crossing his fingers that it didn’t look horrible. The doorbell rang and he went to answer it, pulling it open to let Kurt in.

“Fencing?” Kurt asked in a form of greeting, and Blaine cocked his head to the side. “Your shirt.”

“My shirt,” Blaine repeated slowly, wondering if he was still trying to wake up or if he just plain was missing something. Kurt poked him in the chest, or at least that’s what it felt like he was doing, and Blaine took a step back. The sudden contact had sent shivers through him, but at least the feel of Kurt’s finger tracing along his chest made him realize what he’d mean. “Oh! Fencing, yes.”

“Now there’s a hobby you don’t hear of often in Ohio.” Blaine shut the door behind him, and then the realization hit him and he felt a bit of color drain from his face.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, I’ll go change.”

“What?”

“I’m… pajamas.”

“Pajamas,” Kurt repeated, reaching over and touching his arm. His fingertips were cool against Blaine’s skin, which was still warm after being nestled in under the blankets of his bed. “You don’t have to change if you don’t want. This is your house; you can wear whatever you want. It doesn’t bother me.” Blaine fidgeted a little, tugging at the hem of the t-shirt. “If it helps, I think you look completely adorable right now.”

“That helps a little,” Blaine mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to fight off the blush he knew was coming. He never let himself be so undone around people. It had taken weeks before Santana had seen him in anything but the clothes he wore on normal days, and that had only happened when it did because she’d sleepily stumbled her way into the bathroom while he was brushing his teeth one morning. His appearance was something he could control, which is why he always did everything he could to present himself well every day.

“I wouldn’t want to change, if I was wearing that,” Kurt offered. “It looks really comfortable.”

“It is.” Blaine decided to just leave it, since Kurt didn’t seem to care. It made him feel fairly self-conscious, Kurt seeing him in his pajamas, but he just reminded himself that there were far worse things that could happen. Soft flannel pants and a worn t-shirt were hardly a crime. “I didn’t fence.”

“Hm?”

“The shirt,” he said, gesturing toward his chest where he knew the logo was. “I didn’t. This was Cooper’s.”

“Who’s Cooper?”

“My brother.” Blaine settled in on the couch, sitting cross-legged. “He wanted to audition for some production of The Three Musketeers and convinced our parents that he should take fencing lessons so he could be more authentic.”

“Did that work?”

“Well he didn’t get the part,” Blaine offered with a shrug. “He did spend a lot of time following me around and challenging me to duels, though.” Kurt laughed, dropping down next to him on the couch.

“He sounds like a trip,” he said, and he turned to sit sideways, his knee bumping against Blaine’s leg. “I ordered us Chinese, by the way. I probably should have asked first but it sounded really good.”

“No, Chinese is fine.” He tried to ignore how his breath quickened when Kurt fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt, unfolding it from how it had gotten cuffed when he was in bed.

“So,” Kurt said, his tone conversational. “What was going on earlier?”

“I was being stupid,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “It’s not… important.”

“Well I don’t believe for a second that you were being stupid,” Kurt said, hand resting on his shoulder and thumb tracing circles along it. “That seems like a very un-Blaine like thing to be. You don’t have to tell me,” he continued after a moment of pause. “I’m here if you want to talk, though. I was worried. You seemed really upset.”

“I think too much sometimes,” Blaine said quietly, figuring that was a safe way to phrase it. “I let things upset me before they even happen and it just kind of eats away at me from the inside.” He shook his head. “That was what happened today. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Kurt said gently.

“It feels like it is,” he went on, shaking his head. “It almost always ends up being for no reason, and then I’ve gone through all of that for nothing. Then I went and was awful to, um, Dr. Salido? That was her name, right? I didn’t mean to be, I just don’t really… do well when people surprise me.”

“I kind of got that after our first encounter.”

“It’s worse when I’m playing,” Blaine admitted, his hands clasped in his lap and fingernails bluntly digging into his palms. He knew he wouldn’t normally talk about it, but Kurt’s thumb was still drawing against his shoulder and it was oddly comforting and disarming. “Because I feel… I mean, I do that to get it out. That anxiety and all those things I feel, that’s how I try to get rid of it.” It felt ridiculous to admit it out loud, and he was barely even scratching the surface of what he meant. “So when people catch me like that, it makes it all so much worse.”

“You feel exposed,” Kurt said, and it was all statement and no question. Blaine nodded, swallowing hard. “I get that. When I sing, when I’m not practicing for my lessons and I’m just doing it because I want to or need to, I feel like that.”

“Kurt?” Blaine said softly, nerves taking over again as he mustered up the courage to ask what he wanted. “Can we maybe, um, hug?”

Touches between them were almost always so carefully place. Holding hands was normal, by that point. Kisses still caught Blaine off guard most of the time, but in the best possible way. The rest were light, barely there presses of fingertips, always careful, always hesitant. Blaine knew he was a little skittish and unused to being touched, and Kurt had apparently picked up on that, but the more he sat there next to Kurt the more he realized that all he’d wanted since sitting in his first class of the day was to be held.

Kurt’s hand moved off his shoulder and slid across his chest, thumb catching on his collar for a moment. He scooted in, both arms wrapping around his shoulders and hugging gently as he rest his forehead against Blaine’s temple. It felt warm, so comforting, and it only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away and Blaine’s heart sank.

“This is not an optimal hugging position,” Kurt said. Blaine’s brow furrowed, but he knew it was true. Them sitting beside each other, it didn’t really work. He just wished it had lasted a little longer before it ended. “Here, move up a little.” Kurt nudged his hip lightly, and then pressed his hand on Blaine’s back as he moved up toward the edge of the cushion, uncrossing his legs and letting his feet drop to the floor. “There, much better.”

Blaine sat still as he felt Kurt move, the cushions shifting under his weight as he slid in behind him and let his legs hang on either side of his. Strong arms curled around his torso and pulled him back, and he tilted his head back to rest against Kurt’s shoulder as he pressed back against his chest. It was like a wave washed over him, all calm and comfort, from the feel of Kurt wrapped around him.

He couldn’t help but try and memorize the feeling. The way his hands were splayed out, one against his side near his hip and the other on his chest, fingertips reaching up to his shoulder. The rise and fall of Kurt’s chest against his back as he breathed, and how he could feel each exhale against the skin of his neck. He tried not to focus on how Kurt’s legs were against his, how he was in between them. That was a bit too much for him to handle, and he just wanted to think about how nice it felt to be there in his arms.

There were no words, just touch. He turned his head and his forehead rest against the crook of Kurt’s neck, a place that he desperately wanted to kiss but not right then. Kurt’s thumb rubbed gently against his side and he thought he might burst from the sheer amount of Kurt touching him. He felt like he was tingling, like he almost always did when Kurt touched him, but it was different. It wasn’t the intense, blush inducing fire spreading through his body like usual, it was much more of a quiet buzz of energy that didn’t at all diminish how relaxed and calm he was feeling.

They stayed like that, and Blaine honestly thought he was about to fall asleep from how comfortable he was, until there was a sharp rap on the door. Kurt pressed a soft kiss to his temple before carefully untangling his limbs from around him and climbing over the arm of the couch to get to the door. Blaine just stayed perched on the couch, coming out of his sleepy haze, as Kurt paid for the delivery and got them both drinks and utensils from the kitchen. They ate in near silence, and Blaine had never been happier to have sweet and sour chicken in his life. He’d skipped lunch, but hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the food was right in front of him.

When Kurt finished with his food, he moved back to how he’d been before, sitting behind Blaine. He didn’t wrap him up in his arms right away, waiting for him to finish eating. Blaine set down the carton he’d been holding, turning a little so he could tilt his head back at him. “You don’t have to…”

“What if I want to?” Kurt countered softly, his hand cupping Blaine’s jaw as he ran his thumb along it. Blaine took in a sharp breath, trying to remember how words worked as Kurt’s thumb brushed against his lower lip. “Why do I feel like you’re constantly waiting for me to push you away?”

“I-I’m not,” Blaine said quickly, shaking his head. Not constantly.

“I like you, Blaine.” Kurt’s hand moved to rest on his shoulder, turning him a little more so he could look at him more fully. “There’s not any kind of qualifier that follows that, either. It’s not ‘I like you, but…’ it’s just… I like you.”

“I like you too,” Blaine murmured, bringing his hand up to cover Kurt’s, squeezing it a little.

“But…?”

“No buts,” he said, shaking his head. “I really like you. I just have some trouble believing someone as amazing as you would like me.”

“Oh please,” Kurt said, and Blaine could almost picture him rolling his eyes. Except he realized he didn’t know what color his eyes were. “You’ve got that a little backwards, but I’ll forgive you.”

“I can’t help it,” Blaine said. “I’m not used to this; it’s a little hard to believe.”

“Would it be easier to believe if you were my boyfriend?” Kurt question was asked so softly that Blaine truly believed he’d imagined it. He just sat there, mouths slightly agape, trying to convince himself one way or the other. “Oh God, I didn’t mean to push, I’m sorry.”

“No no, Kurt, you’re not,” Blaine stammered, reaching up and slipping his hand around to the back of Kurt’s neck. “You didn’t push, I just… Yes, I want, I mean… I would like that. A lot. If, um, as long as this isn’t just so I’ll believe you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kurt said with a laugh, leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. Blaine flushed, ducking his head away. “Completely ridiculously adorable. No, this isn’t just so you’ll believe me. I want you to be.”

“Oh, well then yes,” he said, nodding and biting his lip as he grinned. Kurt kissed him again, this time full on the mouth, and Blaine couldn’t help but think that it was incredible how one single day could have such big ups and downs. As long as Kurt was there at the end of it, he figured he could put up with most stress and anxiety that piled up inside. There was something about kissing Kurt that erased all of it.