I was five, he was four

by abbbie

Kurt and Blaine have been inseperable ever since they were five and four. But what happens when they grow older and the desire to experience new things begins?Or more importantly, what happens when neither of them can admit that it's with each other they want to share these experiences? A series of firsts told as flashbacks from Kurt's POV from ages 5-20. Rated M for eventual smut.

1. Prologue

I was five, he was four.

Prologue.

I was five, he was four. It was my first day of kindergarten. Most of the other kids started when they were the latter, but not me. It wasn't because I was a slow child, not because I was unwilling or just too precious to be thrown out into the big, scary world of preschool, nope, not at all. It was much more complicated than that, more complicated than even I could understand. And too be honest? I don't really understand now either.

Then again, who does? Who can ever explain why a loved one dies? Why a four year old kid should have to sit and watch his mom clutching onto his tiny hand, wondering why she wouldn't loosen her grip when he told her she was hurting him. Then something clicks. Your dad stands behind you, picks you up from the huge chair you're drowning in and sits you in his lap, placing his hand just as tightly over the interlaced ones sitting on the hospital bed. You realise that this is nothing. The pressure on your hand as your parents' significantly stronger ones clutch each other's and yours for dear life. It's nothing. It's preparation, almost. Preparing you for the rest of your life without your mother, this pain preparing you for that pain. A pain much deeper. Watching that one last peaceful tear drop down her cheek, noticing that her grasp loosens, and your dad's tightens, and her chest stops rising and falling and then a huge man comes in, touches her wrist in a weird manner and just.. Nods. From then on, it's you and him - or rather, it's me and dad.

I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm twenty years old and I live in Lima Ohio. My mother, Elizabeth Hummel died when I was four years old if you didn't catch that, leaving me and my dad, Burt. Me and dad? We couldn't be more different. He likes monster truck rallies in Dayton, I like the idea of a bike ride around Paris. He likes burgers and full fat Coke, I like salads and Diet Coke. He likes women and well - I don't. We couldn't be more different, but it works. The juxtapositioning works.

I came out when I was fifteen. Sort of early some would say, but for me? It was so late. So incredibly late. Personally, knowing I liked boys wasn't much of an issue. And that's where this story begins, that realisation, that first boy. And in my case? The only boy. Wow, I sort of side-tracked huh? I do that a lot, you'll get used to it, or you won't - that however? Is not my problem.