Written in these walls are the stories that I can't explain
"Do you think if the walls could speak they would tell our secrets?" Kurt said quietly after a while. His breathing had returned to normal but he still lay naked against Blaine's chest on their bed, one of Blaine's arms loped lazily across his shoulders. Blaine looked around at the walls, their beige creaminess offensive to Kurt's taste though he had grown to accept it.
"I think they owe us their allegiance," Blaine said, a hint of a joke in his light voice. "I think they would keep our secrets until we die here, then it's a free for all." Kurt smiled.
"They would be able to tell stories that even we can't explain," Kurt said, "The laughter, the sadness, the in-jokes, the worry, the staying up late – they wouldn't make sense unless you saw it all. Our lives…"
"They make us, don't they?" Blaine said after a while, feeling along warm skin and smelling coconut shampoo. "All those moments, all that time – we think it's just mundane but it's everything."
"It's us." Kurt scooted closer. They were buried in tiny moments and normal moments but right now Kurt wanted to bury himself in Blaine's neck where there was warmth and soft tanned skin.
Time could carry on, they would just be.