A/N: Based on a very prominent scene from the book/movie. Just a one shot for now, set in present day and not when actual Perks of Being A Wallflower is set. Also, you don't need to have seen/read it to understand! Hope you enjoy

You know when you see a painting, and it's so peculiar and beautiful that you can't help but feel you've been temporarily whisked away to a secret, wondrous place, and it touches you so much that you kinda hate anyone else looking at it because they couldn't possibly understand?

Actually, no, that's not quite right…

Have you ever seen The Princess Diaries? It's kinda like that. Almost too good to be true, but it enchants you, and you accept it.

Santana's house was nothing like I expected it to be. If you ask me what I expected, I wouldn't be able to tell you – but it wasn't this.

First, there were fairy lights hanging everywhere, which made sense because it was Christmas but I'd never seen a house decorated so gracefully in light before. The majority were just light-coloured, although there were a few red and blue ones, too, and some were designed to look like they were raining down while others had bulbs that looked like roses that were yet to come out. There were lots of tall vases and mirrors, and a tall Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room with dainty fairies and baubles hanging off of it. There weren't that many photos, but I noticed a golden photo frame by the window that had a younger Santana in it, standing hand in hand with who I could only assume was her brother. She looked a lot less intimidating there.

I must've been the last to arrive, because everyone cheered when I finally got there. Santana stood up and dragged me over, not letting go of my hand until she had me seated between herself and Sebastian. In all honesty, I wanted to move up one more to the left so I could be in between Santana and Kurt, but I didn't say anything.

"Cool bow tie, man!" Sam called from across the room. I noticed the bottles of some kind of alcohol on the table before I had any idea they weren't all particularly sober.

"Thanks," I said, and I meant it – I was picked on for my fashion decisions far too often. "My sister got it for me."

"Rachel?" Noah Puckerman perked up, and I again reminded myself that just because he had big arms and a mohawk, it didn't mean he was going to beat me up. "Your sister's hot, dude."

"Uh, thanks," I stuttered, trying to smile. "But she has a boyfriend."

"She could do better," he said, and I was silent. I agreed.

"Now that Blaine's here, shall we do presents?" Tina asked, looking at Santana and no one else. I turned to look at her, and she laughed, standing up and getting a bunch of presents from under the tree to dump in the middle of all of us. I quickly added mine to the pile, and Santana smiled at me thankfully, before placing her forefinger and her thumb in her mouth and whistling to get our attention.

"It's time to get down to what Christmas is really about," she teased, raising her eyebrow. She looked at me for just a moment, before turning her attention to Quinn. "Ladies first," she said, sitting back down and crossing her legs. I could tell she was smirking about something without even looking at her.

Quinn's Secret Santa was to Tina, and I'm still kinda in shock so I won't say what she got her, but I think it was a joke. Tina got Puck a CD, which he hid super quickly once he'd unwrapped it, but not before I saw it was the greatest hits of Frank Sinatra. He just stared at her afterwards, but Tina had a small smile on her lips. I guess she must've known him better than I thought. After a few more entertaining gifts, including Kurt getting Sebastian a lump of coal to insinuate he was on the "bad list" and a statue of a Meer cat, and Artie giving Sugar something so fluffy, I still don't really know what it was, Santana turned to look at me.

"Your present's under that coffee table," she told me, and nodded to the furthest end of the room. I caught Kurt's eye for a moment, and his own gaze was shining. I was suddenly very anxious.

The whole room was watching me as I went to retrieve my own Secret Santa gift, making me feel nervous even though I wasn't sure what for. I bent down when I got to the coffee table, and reached under it, pulling out a box that must've been about three quarters of my own height. Although I guess I'm not the tallest person.

"Open it!" Santana said excitedly, when I looked up again. The box itself was a kind of triangle shape, and as I opened it, I felt my mouth go dry – it was a guitar. And not a small, beginners guitar like my beaten up one at home. A real, freshly varnished, freshly stringed, acoustic guitar. I was so shocked I barely heard the happy round of applause from the rest of the room.

"Santana…" I started, but she was already approaching me, her hands coming to grip my forearms as she looked me right in the eye.

"It's from all of us," she told me. "Well, mainly me and Kurt, but the others did kinda help. You deserve this, Blaine. I've never seen anyone with talent like yours."

I felt my eyes tear up, unbelievably glad when Santana pulled me into a hug but the moment was short lived when Mike and Sam yelled "play us a song!" in unison. I laughed, pulling away from Santana and standing, with my guitar, in the middle of everyone, where the presents had been. Kurt looked at me with completely undivided attention – and, if I wasn't mistaken, there were tears pricking at his eyes, too. I didn't break his gaze when I spoke.

"Just one song," I said, and everyone cheered again. I bit my lip, averting my attention to the guitar and how different this felt to the one I'd outgrown. I strummed it once, just an open chord, and winced at how it wasn't quite in tune, glad when everyone laughed with me because I didn't want to come off arrogant. Once I'd tuned it, I'd decided what to play. It wasn't maybe the best song for that situation, or for that time of year, or for that crowd of people – but nonetheless, these people were my friends. I had friends that didn't judge me on my bowties, or my sexuality, or my music taste that varied from awesome to downright awful. So, I played Teenage Dream. Because that was the song that played the first time I really sawKurt. And that was the song that reminded me of the time when hope had first properly pierced the veil of the darkness that was hanging over me, just like how hope was winning over, now. And as I looked up, letting myself pour my heart into the lyrics, I knew Kurt knew, too. I used to hate it when people heard a song and claimed it as theirs, but this was our song. And now, I could play it to him.

When I was done, everyone got up and hugged me, but a hand grabbed mine in the crowed and before I knew it, Kurt was steering me away. I didn't have the guitar, anymore, but I guess that didn't matter.

I still couldn't get my head round it, that Kurt and Santana were related. It was a weird relation, because Santana's mom's first husband's wife's sister or Santana's mom's sister's first husband was Kurt's side, but at any rate, he was living with her, now. It hit me as we approached the stairs that Kurt was probably taking me to his room, and I suddenly got butterflies. Not because of what happens in bedrooms sometimes, but because this, what I was about to see, was Kurt's sanctuary. His own space. I couldn't help feel honoured he was letting me see it.

"I'm sorry for dragging you away like that," Kurt said, leading me down the hall. "If anyone asks, just say I was showing you where the bathroom is."

"Okay," I said. My heart was beating very fast.

He opened the door to his room; a white painted door at the end of the hall. The first thing that struck me as he led me inside was how many photos there were – photos of him and friends, him and family… I felt a dull pain in my chest whenever I caught site of a photo with Kurt and a boyfriend, but I didn't let it show. I knew I wasn't allowed to feel like that.

"I had to take you away because I got something else for you," he started, sitting down on the bed. He waited a long time to keep talking, and I wondered if I was meant to be trying to find it or something, but my eyes darting around the room must've given me away because he started to laugh.

"Blaine," he said, standing up to take both my hands into his. I looked at him, knowing there was a small frown on my head. "I just want you to sit down."

"On the bed?" I asked, as he started pulling me back.

"Yes," he chuckled. I could feel the blush on my cheeks, but I tried to act like it wasn't there. We both sat down, and he only let go of one of my hands, and I couldn't keep the smile on my face from growing just a little bit. I could sense Kurt was suddenly nervous, though, so I did all I could to be comforting, stroking my thumb against his hand like I saw people do in movies and not daring to look away. Kurt finally smiled up at me, squeezing my hand before getting up to retrieve a box from under his bed. "Blaine," he started, slowly sitting back down. "Do you remember that day… we both discovered we consider Moulin Rouge one of our favourite movies, and I said I bet you don't know all the words to the Elephant Love Medley?"

"You mean the day I proved you very, very wrong?" I asked, and Kurt chucked, looking down at the box before back up at me again. I still remembered that day so well. It was one of my favourite memories.

Kurt and I had been talking a lot, especially since he'd got me to join Glee club, and one day, after Glee club had ended, he challenged me. I think he knew deep down really that I did know all the words, but he led me into the empty auditorium, holding my hand the entire way and leading me to the centre of the stage, where I began the dialogue that lead into the song. It was very gracious of Kurt to take Satine's part, I think – but more than anything, I was completely overcome at how we connected. Our chemistry was amazing; the way there was nothing I could do that would make Kurt embarrassed, and nothing he could throw at me that I couldn't ping back. We used the whole space, dodging between seats and belting on top of staircases, prancing around the stage because we could. I never wanted it to end.

"This was what we were originally thinking of giving you," Kurt told me, extracting a camera from the box. "Because you were talking about how you wanted to record yourself singing so you could get your voice out there that way. But as it turns out, we weren't as alone as we thought we were that day in the auditorium."

"…What?" I asked, but Kurt's smile told me there was no need to worry.

"Santana, being the sweetheart that she is, had taken the camera out because… I don't know, it was something for Brittany's talk show," Kurt shrugged. "And we didn't see her because she was being very incognito. But… she was there. And she got the whole thing on camera."

I gasped, and Kurt turned the camera to me just in time for me to see two small figures on the small screen, standing on the stage in mid dialogue before my camera self raised his arms in musical over enthusiasm. The quality wasn't amazing, but it wasn't at all bad, either, and I watched as the two of us flew all over the auditorium, thriving in the moment. If I wasn't myself, I still would have fallen in love with what was happening on the camera.

"I can't believe it," I whispered, and Kurt squeezed my hand again, shuffling closer to me so he could watch it, too. "We look so…"

"I know," Kurt replied, hooking his chin over my shoulder. "I thought the same," he said much quieter. I wondered if he really knew what I was about to say. How we looked like we could be in love.

It wasn't long before I turned to Kurt and wound both my arms around him, completely overwhelmed by the affection that had been shown to me through the whole day and what I was seeing on the camera. I think he knew, too, shutting the camera off so he could hug me back properly. I felt tears prick at my eyes again for the second time that day, but I didn't want to cry them out, not wanting to ruin the moment. Instead, I just held him tighter, burying my face into his neck so that everything was Kurt.

"Thank you," I murmured. I heard Kurt take a shaky intake of breath, like there was something he wanted to say, but he didn't say it. He pulled away, looking at me so intensely I was taken aback.

"Blaine… have you ever… kissed someone?" He bit his lip. "I mean, another guy."

"No," I told him, shaking my head. He looked at me so sadly.

"Not even as a dare? Or… as a friend?"

I shook my head again, and Kurt nodded, looking down.

"I had my first kiss at the beginning of High School. And it was a bully. But the worst part was, he wasn't even kissing me to bully me. He was kissing me because he liked me. But it felt…" he shook his head, and looked at me thoughtfully. "I think it's why I'm such a screw up, you know?"

"You're not a screw up," I told him, but he dismissed it quickly, like that wasn't the point.

"I know… I know I have a boyfriend." He swallowed thickly. "And I know I've told you not to… think of me… like that. But… just for now… I want you to forget that. Just for now."

"Okay," I said.

"Because… Blaine, I just want the first person that kisses you to love you. To really love you. Okay?"

"Okay."

He bit his lip, and I could see tears in his eyes a lot more clearer, now. "Because you're an incredible person, Blaine, maybe the best person I know, and you deserve that. You deserve someone who loves you. So you don't become a screw up. Okay?"

"…Okay," I said, and he nodded. I watched as he took three deep breaths in front of me, and then his hand cupped my jaw, looking at me with such a vulnerable gaze I was sure I could see into his soul. And then he kissed me.

Every song I'd heard about love, every experience someone had told me, like the first time they kissed someone, suddenly didn't matter. It was all redundant. Because I was there, and I was feeling it for myself, and it was incredible. And it wasn't because he was a good kisser or not – it was because he cared enough to make this moment perfect for me. But that moment was far too precious to do anything with it other than keep it to ourselves, and I knew he knew that, too.

His forehead leaned against mine, and I was sure with him so close to me, he would hear my heart hammering frantically against my chest.

"I love you, Blaine," he whispered. And then he kissed me again, so I couldn't say it back. But I did.

I loved him.