Those small simple things
Scarily large, kind of stupid and with no fashion sense at all. Kurt seriously questioned his sanity after falling head first for that jock with two left feet and limbs too long to control. He could not dance, five minutes in math class gave him a headache and hello, Kurt's dad wore flannel – so not okay, Finn Hudson. Those pee balloons had forced him to repeat his moisturizing ritual three times that night and it had been a real hassle to get the lawn furniture down from the roof.
Sure, he had saved his bright blue, absolutely divine Marc Jacob's jacket before he ended up in the dumpster. He had apologized for idiotic Noah Puckerman's lack of impulse control when Kurt suddenly had gotten shoved into the nearest locker, but (and this was a big but) that still did not make up for the fact that he had been tossed into the dumpster and gotten slushee facials countless times. So why did he have such serious trouble breathing while that total idiot took Hello, I love you to a whole new level? Why did he find his naïve stupidity so endearing, just as he found his ridiculous, uncoordinated dance moves absolutely adorable?
It might be the way he looked at him, with eyes brown and sweet as chocolate. Gentle and kind. Clueless with that uncertain smile upon lips in serious need of this fabulous mango-papaya lip balm Kurt had found the other day while cruising the mall with Mercedes.
Perhaps it was the way his face crinkled in a frown when he concentrated on something difficult, or the fact that he mumbled every word under his breath while learning new lyrics. Kurt liked to watch his lips move. He had memorized their exact shape and color, pondered about their taste and softness. He wondered how they felt against his.
Maybe, just maybe, it was that slight blush upon his cheeks which appeared whenever he was flustered or embarrassed. It made him melt and wish, wish so dearly, that he was allowed close enough to decide exactly which beautiful shade of pink it was. Peach? Deeper, like raspberry? Or was it a unique nuance of pink, a Finn-shade? Oh, how he wondered. Though, that was just another of the great questions of life - a question with an answer he would never get to know.
Finn had wanted to name his unborn daughter Drizzle. It sounded like something a celebrity would name their kid. Like Apple and Zuma. And drizzle was by far the best kind of rain. Especially in spring, when you could smell the new season arriving in the light drizzle… Perhaps Finn had thought about this when he decided upon that name. If so, Kurt would only fall in love with him more.
Kurt could recall just how it had felt to sit tight together with him upon the piano stool in the auditorium while rehearsing their ballads. Finn had been so distraught about the whole baby drama thing and no matter how hard Kurt tried, he still was unable to completely concentrate at the words leaving Finns' perfectly shaped lips. All he could do was to inhale his scent, feel his warmth and enjoy that one time opportunity when he was finally able to close his hand around his broad shoulder. How he had wanted to close his arms around him. How he had wanted to lean his head against him and just… sit there. It had been plenty enough.
So what was it that made him so incredibly weak towards him? Everything. All of it. It was all of those small, simple things which made Kurt so desperately, irrevocably infatuated with Finn Hudson.
