It happens on a sunny day, just before middle school.

You've been complaining all morning about moving to another house, because it has a new bedroom, a new kitchen, a new living room… It doesn't feel like home yet, and that scares you a bit.

It's not that the house isn't pretty. Because it is. You stare at it with a half smile, wondering if someday you'll be tall enough to climb to the roof.

"Probably not", says your older brother in a mocking tone. You frown and keep standing there, until your parents tell you it's time for lunch.

You're on your way to the porch when a soft voice stops you in your tracks. You turn around and glance at the boy in t-shirt and jeans.

"Hi."

Your mouth parts and you're pretty sure you already forgot what he just said. Your eyes widen because in front of you is standing the most beautiful boy you ever saw. Is that something normal to think about a boy? You feel like you're too young to care. You feel like you can't look away from his blue eyes so you get lost in them.

Blue eyes? More like grey-blue-green-mix-of-all-the-prettiest-colours-that-could-ever-exist-on-earth. They're kinda widely open, staring at you with the same stunned expression. You wonder if he gets the same funny feeling in his tummy as you do. But maybe that's because you're hungry. You suddenly remember you have get back to your house and- How did you forget about lunch?

"Hi," says again the boy with pretty eyes.

"Hi," you say. A smile spreads over your face. "My name is Blaine."

And just like that, because you really want to reach out and touch his porcelain skin, you hold out your hand and wait for him to take it.

Which he does, ducking his head slightly at the odd behaviour.

"Kurt," he says.

"Kurt," you repeat with an dazzled look on your face. It sounds familiar, like one of those movie character with rosy cheeks and small freckles. You look at your clasped hands, startled by the softness of his skin. They fit so well with yours that you're afraid of letting go.

"Are you hungry?"

He's taken aback by the sudden question but nods slowly. Your smile widens, if that's possible, and an idea crosses your mind.

"Do you want to eat with us? My mom is an excellent cook! She makes delicious pasta, which is my favourite meal, but she also makes some awesome chicken nuggets you can't get enough of and sandwiches when I go to school and…"

He grins fondly, listening to your never-ending ramble about food. His smile makes you feel all warm inside, and you decide it's the way it always should be. He waits until you finished talking to nod and tell you he has to ask his parents.

Which he does, and comes back quickly because his house is just across the street.

Both of you make your way to your house and your parents greet him with a smile, surprised to see a new friend in their house.

You sit at the table and start eating your portion of pasta, occasionally glancing at Kurt. He takes a few bites and grins.

"You were right," he whispers. "She makes a delicious pasta."

You blush slightly and keep eating, until there's not any more pasta for both of you.

"Wanna play soccer?"

He grins. "Sure!"

You both stand and you immediately take his hand, grasping your fingers together as tight as possible. He gasps but doesn't pulls away, so you make a shy smile and excitedly guide him to your garden.

You play all day. In fact, you don't just play soccer. You organize races to see who's faster. You try to find hidden places in your house, even though there aren't any. You go to the park and spend a lot of time on the swing sets, pushing each other higher and higher, like you wanted to touch the sky.

At the end of the day, you build a fort made of pillows in your new bedroom and talk about everything you like, you dislike, and even about what you don't know. You watch him laugh, talk and write about everything, with what could be described as adoration in your eyes.

You get cold and ask him if he wants to snuggle. He stutters, a blush creeping on his cheeks.

"Okay."

As you enthusiastically get closer to him, he whispers that boys don't usually cuddle, or even hold hands. You stare at the ground, biting the inside of your cheek.

"But…we can, can't we?"

You glance at him and his lips form a fond smile that makes you all fuzzy inside.

"Yes."

He releases the breath he was unconsciously holding and tentatively reaches out for your hand. You clasp your hands together and interlace fingers with ease, just like they were the two fitting pieces of a puzzle.

Somehow, his presence makes the house look less scary.

Your arms get tangled around his waist; your head rests on the crook of his neck. He relaxes into your embrace and wraps his cream-coloured arms around your thin shoulders. The smoothness and warmth of his skin remind you of the stout blanket you had when you were younger, but somehow Kurt's arms feel safer. You close your eyes and rapidly fall asleep.

He stares at your intertwined fingers, at the skin colour difference and how well they fit. Then, he rests his head against yours and drifts away to sleep.

It's the first time you ever dream about someone's eyes, and they're the colour of the sky.