Okay, I have a bunch of things I want to say, so apologizing in advance for what will probably be an obnoxiously long author's note: first of all, a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed the first chapter of this story. Your feedback made me so happy and also really encouraged me to continue writing. Keep it coming! I'm sorry that it took a whole week to update - I needed some time to map out the story in my head, but now I have a pretty good sense of where I want it to go (at least for the next couple chapters). I'm pretty excited about it, so I hope you'll all keep reading! Also, it's going to take some time to get there, but I promise there will be smut eventually.
Alright, that actually wasn't so bad... OH ALSO: the title comes from the song "Such Great Heights" by the Postal Service.
By the time Kurt arrived at work the next morning, he had convinced himself of two things: 1) that being interested in a resident of the building he worked in was a terrible idea for a number of very convincing reasons, and 2) that Blaine couldn't possibly have been that attractive. In fact, he was feeling so confident in his ability to overcome this silly little crush that he barely even reacted when the bell rang for the 12th floor.
And then the doors opened, and it all went to shit.
Blaine was standing in the hallway, fiddling with the strap on his messenger bag and looking - how was that even possible? - even more gorgeous than Kurt remembered.
"Good morning!" he greeted cheerfully, smiling widely as he bounded into the elevator.
God, his eyelashes were like a fucking mile long.
"Good morning," Kurt replied, determinedly ignoring the butterflies that had suddenly begun swooping around his stomach.
"How are you?" Blaine asked, and it sounded like he genuinely wanted to know.
"I'm good, thanks, how are you?"
"Not bad."
"Where are you headed?" Kurt asked, then silently panicked that that was too nosy of a question to ask someone you had just met.
Blaine didn't seem to mind. "Just off to work. I got a job at this coffee shop a few blocks from here."
"Oh, nice. What's it called?"
"Julie's? I don't know if you've heard of it."
"Sounds familiar, but I've never been," Kurt said. He and Rachel had stumbled upon a cozy little cafe during their second week in the city and had been loyal (almost fanatically so) customers ever since, so he hadn't spent much time in other coffee shops.
"You should stop by some time," Blaine suggested. "It's pretty good. And I, uh - I perform there sometimes. They have open mic nights on Thursdays."
"Do you sing?"
Blaine nodded. "Yeah. I play guitar, too."
Of course.
"That's really cool. I'll definitely have to check it out."
(And swoon pathetically in a corner while I watch.)
Blaine beamed at him.
They had reached the lobby, and Blaine stepped out of the elevator. "Thanks, Kurt." Oh, his name sounded so nice on Blaine's tongue. "See you around."
"Bye," Kurt replied, cursing himself internally.
God, he was so screwed.
When Kurt left work that afternoon, it was drizzling lightly. By the time he reached Washington Square Park ten minutes later, the weather had progressed from a drizzle to a torrential downpour that now seemed to include - though Kurt was baffled by how this was even possible when it was so hot out - hail. Needless to say, his small umbrella wasn't really cutting it anymore.
He was debating seeking refuge indoors - his and Rachel's cafe was only a block away - when he saw a small and thoroughly drenched figure rushing through the park, arms thrown protectively over his head as the rain and hail pounded down on him. A moment later, Kurt realized that it was Blaine.
"Blaine!" Kurt called out before he could stop himself.
Blaine spun around, smiling when he recognized Kurt. "Hey!" he said, hurrying over.
"God, you're soaked," Kurt said, eyeing Blaine's dripping hair and definitely not noticing how tightly that wet shirt was clinging to his chest. "Here, come share my umbrella."
"Thanks," Blaine said gratefully, huddling close - so close - to Kurt and wiping the water off his face. "Can you believe this?"
"It's crazy," Kurt replied, shaking his head. "Since when does it hail in the summer?"
Blaine laughed. "I don't know. Lucky you thought to bring an umbrella, though. Clearly I wasn't so smart."
Kurt made a split second (and probably rash) decision.
"If you want to dry off a bit, there's this cafe around the corner that my roommate and I always go to," he offered. "I was thinking of hiding out there until this storm dies down."
He could practically hear Rachel's sigh of resigned disapproval as the words left his mouth.
Blaine looked pleased. "That would be great."
"Yeah?"
"Lead the way."
They crouched under the umbrella and moved along as quickly as possible, shoulders rubbing together perhaps a bit more often than was strictly necessary (although maybe Kurt was just imagining things). They chatted easily, and Kurt learned the limits of Blaine's affinity for extreme weather:
"I normally kind of like being caught in the rain, actually," he said. "But even I draw the line at falling balls of ice."
Blaine held the door open when they arrived at the cafe, and Kurt briefly felt the rush of butterflies returning from this morning. But the swooping sensation abruptly turned to an unpleasant twist of nerves when he saw the person standing at the register.
He had completely forgotten Santana worked this shift.
"Shit," he swore under his breath.
"What's wrong?" Blaine asked curiously, running a distracting hand through his hair.
"Oh - nothing. Just, the cashier is a friend of mine. She's, ah - you'll see," Kurt muttered.
"Hummel!" Santana called as they approached the counter. He watched the trademark smirk flash across her features at the exact moment she realized he was there with Blaine.
"Hey, San," he said warily.
"Who's your friend?" she asked bluntly, giving Blaine an approving (and rather obvious) once-over and quirking an eyebrow at Kurt.
He was never going to hear the end of this.
"This is Blaine," Kurt said. "He lives in the building I work in. Blaine, this is my friend Santana. We went to high school together."
"Nice to meet you," Blaine said politely.
"Pleasure," Santana replied, shooting Kurt another look. Kurt countered with his own trademark bitch face and prayed that she wouldn't do anything too terrible.
She was reasonably well-behaved as she got them their drinks, limiting the Santana-ness to throwing gleeful smirks at Kurt whenever Blaine was busy squeezing water out of his t-shirt. When Blaine wandered off to get them a table, she grabbed Kurt's arm and put her lips to his ear. "Well done, Hummel," she purred. "He is one fine piece of ass."
"Santana!" Kurt hissed, blushing. "Shut up, it's nothing."
"Like hell," she scoffed. "I expect all the dirty details later. Now go play." She patted his arm and pranced off to greet another set of dripping wet customers.
Kurt rolled his eyes and trudged over to the table Blaine was sitting at, grinning when he saw that a small puddle had already formed on the floor beneath Blaine's seat.
"Sorry about her," Kurt said, sliding into the chair across from him.
"I like her," Blaine announced. "She's feisty."
"I suppose that's one way of putting it."
Blaine chuckled. "So you guys went to high school together?"
"Yeah. And with my roommate Rachel too, actually. We were all in glee club together."
Blaine's face lit up at the mention of glee. "You sing too?"
"Not as much as I used to, but yes."
"Why not as much as you used to?" Blaine asked curiously.
"I still love it, but I have more things in my life that make me happy now," Kurt explained. "I needed it more in high school. It was... a refuge for me."
"You had a hard time in high school?" Blaine asked quietly.
"For my first three years, I was the only out gay kid in the entire school," Kurt said. Blaine's eyes widened. "Not an easy road, especially in Ohio."
"Wow," Blaine said softly. "But you had the glee club?"
Kurt nodded. "They were great. And my dad was - is - so supportive. But no one really understood. It was just... lonely."
He glanced down at his steaming coffee mug, suddenly very aware of the fact that he was pouring his heart out to a relative stranger. When he looked up again, Blaine was watching him carefully, his expression sad.
"I know," Blaine breathed, his voice almost a whisper. He cleared his throat. "I mean - I'm gay, too." He bit his lip, clearly steeling himself for something. "The bullying got so bad I had to switch schools."
Kurt fought a sudden impulse to reach across the table and take Blaine's hand.
"I'm sorry," he said instead.
Blaine shrugged, smiling faintly. "I'm fine now."
"Things got better after you transferred?"
"Much. I made some great friends, started singing in places other than my shower." He paused and sipped thoughtfully on his coffee as Kurt giggled. "My dad's not so supportive," he said rather bluntly. Kurt stopped giggling abruptly, and Blaine hurried to add: "But other than that, things are good."
"What does your dad do?" Kurt asked tentatively, wary of pressing too much.
Blaine sighed. "He just... he ignores it, mostly. We don't talk about me being gay, ever. It's like he thinks it's not real if we don't address it."
Kurt felt his heart break just a little bit. "Oh, Blaine," he murmured.
"It's alright," Blaine said, perking up again. "I'm moving into NYU dorms in August, and I'm making money of my own now. I'll be on my own soon enough, and then it won't matter."
Kurt felt privately that it would probably always matter, but he sensed that Blaine wanted to move away from the subject.
"So, Tisch," he said, smiling brightly. "Talk to me about it!"
From there, the conversation veered into happier territory, covering NYU, classes, music, and much more. By the time they got up to leave, the rain had stopped and Blaine's shirt was nearly dry.
"It was really great talking to you, Kurt," Blaine said as they stepped outside. "Thanks for saving me from the hail."
"My pleasure," Kurt laughed. "My umbrella is yours to share any time."
"I appreciate that."
They stood looking at each other for a moment, suddenly awkward in their parting.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Blaine said, tucking his hands into his pockets.
Kurt nodded. "See you."
And then they headed off in opposite directions, both of them fighting the urge to turn and look back.
So there you have it... I hope it lived up to your expectations :). And I appreciate you pulling yourselves away from Box-Scene craziness (most beautiful thing ever, seriously) to read my story. Also, this is kind of ridiculous, but question: does anyone have suggestions for what Santana should call Kurt? I feel like she would never just call him Kurt, but I'm having a hard time settling on a nickname that feels right (hence the Hummel). So feel free to share if you think of anything brilliant!
Okay, I'm done now. Again, thanks for reading!