Chapter 3

Kurt was staring out the window on the drive home. It wasn't in that absent, lost-in-thought sort of way. Rather, it was with a rapt attention. It was endearing, really. Kurt was like that about New York, back in high school and the beginning of college when it had all been brand new. It made Blaine feel a little closer to him.

"I can't believe I'm here," Kurt whispered. Blaine wasn't sure if it was intended for him or not, but he decided to take what he could get. The silence that had persisted for twenty minutes now was just about killing him.

"I want to be a part of it, New York, New York," Blaine sang, medium-toned, over his steering wheel. Kurt turned to look at him with wide eyes.

"You can sing," he said in wonder. "I know you said you were in a glee club, but you can sing."

It took all Blaine's ability to keep his eyes (mostly) on the road, and not soak in Kurt's look of wonderment, and his blue (usually…sometimes…but definitely right now) eyes. He said casually, "Did you really think you'd end up with a guy who didn't sing?"

Kurt blinked down, and for the briefest second, Kurt's long, dark lashes were against his porcelain, pale cheeks, then up again, and thank God they were at a red light because Blaine could not have kept his attention on the road even if a eighteen wheeler had been barreling down on them.

"I suppose not," Kurt said, and it was all demure and coy, but Blaine knew he wasn't doing it on purpose. Kurt, particularly teenage Kurt, was painfully obvious when it came to flirting, just as Blaine had been painfully oblivious.

The car behind them honked, and Blaine jolted in his seat. The light had turned green.

...

Their apartment was decent-sized, Kurt determined, as he followed Blaine through the front door. That must have meant they were doing fairly well with whatever the either of them were doing with their lives. He didn't know what that was yet. He would have to add it to his mental list of questions, which was already fairly long. But if he asked a question about his life every time he had one, he would never stop asking.

He was itching to get his hands on an iPhone and put them all down in a note.

"Do I have a cell phone?" Kurt blurted out suddenly. He forgot to censor himself this time.

"You did, but it was destroyed in the accident. We'll have to go buy a new one. Really, it was a miracle that you got away with a bump on the head and not a scratch on you… even if that bump on the head has a lot of ramifications…"

Kurt nodded and reached behind himself to pull the front door closed. He took a tentative step forward. Blaine was already over by a coffee table and tossing his keys into a decorative bowl in the center.

"Make yourself at home, because, you know, it is."

Blaine disappeared through an open doorway to what Kurt could see was a kitchen. He decided on taking a perched seat on the camel couch and observe the room. It was decorated in earth tones, mostly concentrated in shades of brown. The TV and its accompanied electronics and DVD collection were on a dark wood cabinet on the opposite wall. On either side were a vertical line of framed photographs that he would have to investigate later. There was a slim, tall bookcase stuck in the corner, all the shelves filled. Behind him was the accent wall, a dark, chocolate brown, with a large, frameless mirror hung in the middle.

Blaine came back and held out a bottle of water to him. Kurt took it and thanked him quietly. He was thirsty and Blaine seemed to know what he wanted before Kurt did and it would have been romantic if it didn't feel creepy. (It shouldn't be creepy. If Kurt had remembered Blaine, remembered Blaine learning everything about him, It was have been sweet, caring, romantic…it wouldn't have been creepy. But he didn't, so it was.)

Blaine sat down on the opposite side of the couch, and there was an entire cushion empty between them. He twisted off the cap of his own bottle and took a few gulps.

"I like the color scheme of this room. It's very warm and cozy."

"It was all you," Blaine said.

"Oh, well, I do have good taste," Kurt said, and it was a touch pompous and a touch joking.

"You do. Wait until you see the rest of the apartment."

"It will a fantastic surprise all day."

Blaine drummed his fingers on his khaki-covered knee. "Do you want to watch TV, well, you probably don't know any of the shows… or we could watch a movie. There is probably a good few in our collection you don't remember seeing."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't really feel like it. I mean, I lost, what, eight years of my life. I feel like it would be that big waste of time they warn us about as kids to watch TV now."

"Yeah, that's fine," Blaine said. "It's still early for dinner, so we can talk, or do, whatever we want."

"Can I look at the…" He pointed at framed photographs on the wall.

"Go ahead."

Kurt approached the wall, and tilted his head up to look at the top of the row on the right side of the television. It was of Blaine and he. They were smiling and had their arms wrapped around each other's waists as they were dressed in pristine white suits. It was odd to see himself so comfortable in the picture. Intellectually, yes, it was him, but it could have been photoshopped for how off it looked.

"Wedding?"'Kurt asked, pointing at it.

"Yeah," Blaine said from the other side of the room.

"We look fabulous," Kurt said, eyeing their outfits again.

"Always." Kurt could practically hear the smile in Blaine's voice.

He shifted his focus down to the next. It was Kurt, Finn, Rachel, Mercedes, and, oddly, those cheerleaders Santana and Brittany in graduation caps and gowns. The one under was Blaine in his high school graduation gown, posing with Tina, Artie, who Kurt knew were a grade below him, and some buff blonde boy he was unfamiliar with. Suddenly he was confused again.

"Wait you're younger? And I thought you said you were in a rival glee club…"

"I'm in a lower grade, but we are the same age…" Blaine started in explanation, but Kurt interrupted with a teasing,

"Did you get held back, Blaine?"

"It's a long story."

Kurt's mood dampened. There was something behind that; something not good. He turned back to the pictures.

"And for the second question," said Blaine, "I transferred to McKinley…to be with you."

"That's sweet," said Kurt, but it was quiet and caught in his throat and he couldn't be sure if Blaine heard or if Kurt wanted to repeat it. He cleared his throat and pointed he picture below, the last one in the column where he recognized Blaine amongst a group of boys in navy blazers with red piping, "This your original school, with the cute little uniform?"

"Yeah, that's Dalton… and I knew you liked the blazer…"

Kurt decided not to ask and went over to the other side of the television. There was another picture of their wedding, this time with the wedding party, which included Rachel, Mercedes, Finn, and someone he recognized from the picture from Dalton. Others were unfamiliar: college friends, New York friends, Blaine's friends, Blaine's family?

The next was another wedding photography, but this time not of his and Blaine's ceremony, but of his father and Finn's mom— Kurt wasn't sure of her name. It was a posed picture, taken in the church, with Finn and Kurt flanking their parents. His family had changed so much, doubled in size. He was glad, now, that Rachel had mentioned it on the phone, or this would've been quite the shock.

The next picture was of New Directions, including Blaine, and most of the faces familiar, and a few unknown.

The bottom most photograph had been taking in a living room he wasn't familiar with, but that was definitely the couch and the lamp from his house, so maybe they moved? There were Burt, Finn's mom (he really out to find out her name if she was his step-mom now), Finn, Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine. They all looked too old for it to have been taken in high school.

Kurt felt a headache coming on.

...

Blaine watched Kurt peruse the photographs and he was happy that he was taking interest. And he was showing some of his attitude in moments. That didn't mean he was remembering, but it meant he was getting comfortable. His self-compliments about his interior decorating had Blaine thinking back to the West Side Story performance, after opening night. "I can't help but steal focus." Blaine would never forget; he had run that conversation through his head over and over again, that, and everything that had followed.

Kurt turned around from examining the photographs, the bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and pointer.

"Headache?" Blaine asked without thinking.

Kurt dropped his hand and gave him a stunned look.

"You always pinch the bridge of your nose when you are getting a headache," Blaine explained sheepishly. He needed to stop predicting everything Kurt was doing or going to do just because he knew him so well. It was freaking this Kurt out. "I'll get you something…" Blaine went to the bathroom and dumped two Advils into his palm and returned to the living room. He held out his hand to Kurt.

Kurt plucked them from his palm, tossing them into his mouth and swallowing them dry.

"I think I will watch some TV after all."

Blaine decided not to say anything.


Aki- Sorry I did not get this up on Christmas like I said I might. Slightly shorter chapter this time. It feels a little filler-y to me, but I think it needs to be there. I want this story to be about the small moments. Next chapter should be up either tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. Reviews?