Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
He's drunk, Kurt thinks. He's also in love, or so he says, but where's the proof in that anyways?
He walks through the doorway, his eyes bloodshot, like he hasn't slept in days, Kurt holding onto him because he knows the second he lets go, Blaine's going to fall over.
It's two in the morning, or it was last Kurt checked and it doesn't make much sense.
"Dizzy," he mutters. "God, I... need to sit down. I stood up too fast," Blaine explains.
Kurt's never seen Blaine drunk, at least not this drunk and it's kind of scaring him now, because there's no way he could be sober, could he?
The throwing of the stones started around 1:45 and Kurt had opened the door nearly ten minutes later to find Blaine sitting on the front porch, throwing up in the bush.
"Blaine?" he had asked.
And Blaine had turned around, and then stood, looking dazed.
He had stared at Kurt, as though in awe of him before Kurt had grabbed his arm to keep him from falling and they had made their way into the house.
Kurt closes the front door quietly before opening it again. Blaine follows him back outside and to the side of the house, where they sit down, their backs against the house, their minds wandering.
"What happened to you?" Kurt asks, turning to face the other boy.
Their eyes meet and Blaine inches his way forward, touching Kurt's cheek.
"You're perfect Kurt," he says, putting his hand back down to his side.
"Blaine, why are you here?" Kurt asks because he doesn't know what else to say.
"Seeing you here... In Lima... It— I made a mistake, Kurt. I just—"
Tears are streaming down his face now and he shakes his head and turns away, closing his eyes.
Kurt looks away, not sure what's coming next.
"I made a mistake," Blaine says again. "And I miss you," he says leaning his head against the side of the house.
Kurt looks at him again. "You're drunk, aren't you? You were trying to get away from everything? The break-up?"
Blaine shakes his head again before catching Kurt's eye. "I'm sick," he says, "but I had to see you. I couldn't take it anymore."
"You're sick?"
Blaine nods. "I've been running a high fever for… a few days now. I haven't slept, haven't eaten."
"And you've been vomiting?" Kurt asks.
"What?" Blaine says, confused. "Oh, right. Sorry… about that."
Kurt looks over at him. "I wish I could kiss you right now," he says because it's the only thing he can think of that seems right.
"You could," Blaine says, shrugging, "But I— I wouldn't if I were you," he says and the conversation suddenly feels awkward, like they're just meeting for the first time.
Kurt smiles at Blaine, shaking his head. "That sounds like a good idea," he says and that's when he sees Blaine's bare feet.
"It rained earlier," Kurt says, looking down at his feet and Blaine sighs.
"I had to see you," he tells Kurt.
"And shoes weren't necessary?" he asks not unkindly.
"I didn't care," he says, coughing. "I had to see you."
Kurt stands up, looking down at him. "Blaine, you have to get inside. You're... freezing."
"Kurt, I'm fine."
"You were throwing up in the bushes not ten minutes ago. You have to get warm."
Blaine looks up at Kurt, his legs still sprawled out in front of him, and shakes his head. "If you cared about me, you would stay here. Stay with me," he says.
Kurt sighs. "Blaine..." he says, but sits back down grudgingly.
"I don't want to get you sick," Blaine says, "but I want to stay here... with you. Can we? Stay here, I mean? Just the two of us until morning?"
Kurt looks over at him, and their eyes meet. Kurt leans back against the house, laughing. "You're not going to stop, are you? Until I give in?"
Blaine smiles. "You know me so well."
Kurt gets up a few minutes later, leaving Blaine alone to soak up the moonlight.
He returns with two blankets, a bottle of water, and two Advils. "Take it," he says, "It'll be better than nothing."
Blaine takes it rather reluctantly and gulps down half of the water bottle along with it.
"Kurt," he says, looking longingly at the other boy. "I'm so in love with you, it hurts."
And then they are kissing, their backs still up against the side of the house and who know what sort of racket they're making because it doesn't matter anymore; none of it does.
Blaine pulls away first. "Shit," he says. "God, I'm so sorry, Kurt. I shouldn't have done that."
"No, don't apologize. Please. I wanted it too. I don't want you blaming yourself, not for this."
"Then for what? Everything else? Because I messed up everything, Kurt. Everything. You were the best thing that's ever happened to me and I screwed it all up. And I deserve the blame."
"Blaine," Kurt says, smiling. "I don't blame you. Not for this. And about... everything else? Well, I'm not going to say that it's easy to forgive you but I get it and I've had more than enough time to think it over. I get what happened, and I forgive you. I was going to tell you tomorrow when I came to McKinley."
Blaine cracks a smile. "I'm not going tomorrow. I've been out all week and you've been here for a day and I... got you sick, I'm sure."
"You're forgiven," Kurt says. "Even for this."
"So... everything else...?"
"History," he says and Blaine falls back against the side of the house, the moonlight shining down on both of them and nothing matters to Kurt or Blaine anymore because they've recaptured each other's lips.
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