AN: Firstly, I am super sorry that this took me so long to get out, it was exam week and then there was all this drama… Basically, I'm sorry.

Secondly, I made a tumblr so you can bug me about writing more if you're that way inclined. ./

Also, there is lots of crying in this chapter. Yay!

ONE MORE THING, the song is Green Finch and Linnet Bird and I recommend you go listen to it right now. :)

Thanks, as always, to everyone who bothers to read this drivel.

It was approximately seventeen minutes past five o'clock in the afternoon when Blaine Anderson realised that he had feelings for Kurt Hummel.

Not the good kind of feelings, the bad kind. The kind that make you feel nauseous and anxious and all shivery when he looks at you.

The kind that make you re-evaluate every touch, every look, every tiny little detail to try to find out when it started happening, so that you can build a time machine and go back and stop yourself from ever feeling like this.

The kind that make you feel a little queasy, a little dizzy and a little stupid all at the same time because you don't quite know what you're doing, you just know that you're doing it for him.

Seventeen minutes past five was – approximately – the time that Kurt Hummel-Hudson, after listening patiently to all of the official Warblers business that had to be covered that day, stood up to sing.

Blaine stared at Kurt unabashedly, glad that something had given him the excuse to look at his best friend and be able to just look, to drink him in with his eyes.

He marvelled at how incredibly calm he appeared, his hair neatly slicked back, his bright eyes shining with something Blaine couldn't quite put his finger on. Determination, maybe? Or strength?

No, that couldn't be it, because those were the things Blaine saw in Kurt's eyes every single day. This was something different; something new; a fierceness that he couldn't believe he'd missed before.

It suddenly struck him that Kurt was beautiful. Really, really beautiful. Not just his glittering crystal eyes or his radiant pale skin. Not just his delicately flushed cheeks or his perfect, rose-petal lips. But all of him; every cell in his body, every thought in his head; every little bit of him was beautiful.

It also struck him that this was a very dangerous thought to think, and he frantically wracked his brains to find one of Kurt's flaws. Kurt was cynical and catty at the best of times, he was cold and haughty.

But while Blaine could acknowledge these flaws, he could also admit that these were some of the things he loved most about him.

Kurt nodded to Nick, who stood at the stereo and pushed play on the backing track.

Blaine didn't know what the elegant boy was going to sing before the stereo let out the opening notes; Kurt hadn't let him hear him practise. He'd always disappeared off to the senior commons to rehearse, or sang when Blaine was at football or fencing. He was dying to know what Kurt had chosen.

His eyes widened in surprise when he heard the gentle music of the flutes. He was singing Green Finch and Linnet Bird from Sweeney Todd, one of Kurt's personal favourites. He had transposed the song to a lower key than the original, but still, he was pushing himself, stretching his falsetto above and beyond.

Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
how is it you sing?

How can you jubilate, sitting in cages,
never taking wing?

Blaine tore his eyes from his room mate to take a quick glance around the room at his fellow Warblers. They were sitting, slack-jawed in amazement, just as he had expected them to be. Yes, Kurt Hummel-Hudson was beautiful in every way, and his voice was no exception. It could leave a room full of boys positively speechless, and it was doing just that.

Outside the sky waits, beckoning, beckoning…
Just beyond the bars.

How can you remain, staring at the rain,
maddened by the stars?

How is it you sing...
Anything?
How is it you sing?

He moved gracefully through the room of his stunned team mates, walking to where Pavarotti stood chirping in his cage over by the window. He stayed there, staring at the bird, and Blaine looked into his eyes once more.

There was determination there, yes, but now there was something else. The fierceness had cracked and another emotion was trickling through.

My cage has many rooms,
damask and dark.
Nothing there sings,
not even my lark.
Larks never will, you know,
when they're captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive
Ah...

Sadness. The other boys may not be able to see it, but Blaine could. It almost hurt him to look at his friend and see sadness in his eyes. It gave him a raw, vulnerable quality that Blaine had never seen in him before; he was so strong, so tough, so hardened by the cruelty of men that Blaine never thought he'd ever see this quality in him.

Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing.

That's when it hit him; why Kurt chose this particular song to sing.

He felt trapped. Dalton was his cage. The uniformity, the rules, the sheltered nature of it all; they were just bars to hold him in.

Kurt was a bird. Yes, he was safe behind these bars; protected in his cage; nothing could harm him here. But he was a prisoner, held captive in blue blazers and just try to fit in attitudes. He was scared of life outside his sanctuary but he'd rather have fear and freedom than this suffocating safety.

If I cannot fly…

Kurt lifted his head and looked out the window with a gut-wrenching sense of sheer longing, fighting the tears in his eyes.

Let me sing.

He finished softly, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

The room burst into thunderous applause, and Blaine determined, right there and then that he would do everything in his power to make sure that not one more tear would fall from those beautiful eyes ever again.

After the meeting, when they returned to their dormitory, they did so in silence. Not an awkward or tense silence, but a gentle one. The kind of silence Kurt needed.

And when they closed the door, they stood, face to face, staring deeply into one another's eyes, a little too close for friends, but not enough for more.

There was a challenge in Kurt's gaze, daring Blaine to say something, to reproach him, to make some kind of comment. But beneath that, if you looked closely, there was a hint of desperation; a plea crying out please, please understand. I don't hate it, I don't, how could I? It brought me you. But please, please understand that I feel so confined here, and I don't know what to do.

In Blaine's eyes there was compassion, and empathy, and pain because he could see that his friend was being stifled. The blue blazer was clipping his wings and there was nothing Blaine could do to stop it. But behind that was please, please, I want you to be happy, I do but…Please understand. Please don't leave me, please.

They stood like that, in their silent, frantic appeals, saying nothing until Kurt finally cracked and snaked his arms around Blaine's neck, pulling him close.

"I'm not going anywhere." Kurt whispered, and Blaine felt a little embarrassed. He should be the one comforting Kurt, not the other way around.

But that was the way things were with them, they seemed to inherently understand what the other person needed.

Blaine said nothing, but gripped the other boy tighter to him, his strong arms curled around his waist. He didn't trust himself to speak out loud and swallowed thickly as his eyes began to well up.

"Besides," Kurt continued. "I can't go anywhere. Karofsky's still at McKinley, and while I'm certain he's found another punching bag by now, I don't think he'll let me go all that easy."

He tried to keep his voice from shaking, praying to god that Blaine didn't notice when it did.

"I'm sorry." Blaine whispered, clinging on to Kurt, desperately trying to tug his friend even closer to him than he already was.

He didn't quite know what he was sorry for; nothing, everything. Sorry that he was trying to make Kurt feel better but failing miserably. Sorry that he had to make Kurt feel better in the first place. Sorry that he couldn't be everything that Kurt needed.

He was sorry that Kurt had to leave McKinley, sorry that he was glad Kurt did, sorry for what Karofsky did to him, sorry that there are people in the world who can be so incredibly cruel, and even more sorry that he couldn't do anything to stop them.

Sorry that he felt so helpless.

"I know." Kurt whispered back, giving the shorter boy one last, bone-crushing squeeze and pulling away.

"Hey." He said softly, gently moving his thumb across Blaine's cheek to wipe away the tear that had escaped.

Blaine thrilled at the touch, his body instinctively leaning into Kurt's hand, both self-conscious and grateful.

"Why don't we go get some dinner?" Kurt said, reaching his hand out for Blaine to take. "You can tell me what to pack for this Anderson spring-baseball-grill-train-wreck-thing."

And as Blaine took Kurt's hand and let himself be led along the corridor, he realised that this was the first time Kurt had held his hand without Blaine taking it first. He smiled then, because yes, that sadness was still there in his eyes, but it was being overshadowed by other things; friendship, excitement, affection.

And Blaine knew that, over time, if he tried hard enough, that little trickle of sadness would be completely engulfed by happiness.

This chapter was really hard to write because it's a lovey-dovey chapter and I was most definitely not in a lovey-dovey mood when I wrote it, so most of the time I wanted to punch Blaine in the face. Sorry if that came across.

Green Finch and Linnet Bird just seemed so fitting I couldn't not use it.