For the last few mornings, it has been the gentle touch of sunlight on his face or the soothing rhythm of the ocean that has woken Kurt from his slumber (minus, possibly, the terrible storm of yesterday, but still, waking up on top of Sebastian's body had been its own blessing). But this morning, Kurt is awoken to something better…much much better: Sebastian's naked body lying beside his, an arm draped over his side, wrapped slightly around his waist.
And Sebastian's incredibly hard cock pressing into his thigh.
Kurt turns in Sebastian's arms to look at him, to have his fill of looking at him, caressing every line and curve of Sebastian's body with eyes that are unashamed to enjoy the beauty of the handsome boy in front of him. Why should Kurt feel ashamed? For all intents and purposes, this gorgeous boy is his to look at, his to touch, his to kiss. He never thought he would have these feelings about Sebastian Smythe. Even now, knowing that he loves Sebastian (he mouths the words I love you soundlessly to make sure they still fit his feelings from last night, and yes, they definitely do) he can still see a scintilla of the old Sebastian lurking beneath the surface, but even that has gone from something Kurt once despised to simply another fragment of Sebastian's multi-faceted character. It is part and parcel of the boy that Kurt fell in love with, and ergo it must belong.
Kurt takes his time soaking Sebastian in, not wanting to rush this opportunity, probably the first real opportunity he's had to look, memorize, and catalog every inch of Sebastian with no distractions. He starts with Sebastian's hair – his enviably sexy bed hair. It's not fair, Kurt concludes for the hundredth time. It's just not…well, moving along. Kurt's eyes travel down his forehead, over the arch of his eyebrows, half-cocked as if he can hear Kurt's ridiculous thoughts in his sleep. (He's impressed that there's another boy in the universe who knows how to properly shape his eyebrows. Who knew they existed? Unless that's natural, too…) His eyes slide down the slope of Sebastian's nose and Kurt stops there a moment to count the freckles dotting his skin. He has three that are slightly larger than the rest, but otherwise they sprinkle lightly across his cheekbones - tiny mocha-colored spots faintly darker than the surrounding skin.
Kurt had never really noticed all these freckles before. From a distance, they blend seamlessly into Sebastian's lightly tanned complexion.
In reality, someone would have to be as close to Sebastian as Kurt is right now to notice them.
Kurt loves that he gets to notice them.
Sebastian's eyes are closed, and Kurt kind of hates that. He considers flicking Sebastian a couple of times on the forehead to get him to open his eyes, but decides against it. Kurt always thought that Sebastian had peevish, conniving eyes, but now he can admire their illustrious beauty, their ever changing tonality – their heat and passion.
Kurt gazes down Sebastian's body as best he can with the sheet that covers them obscuring his view (though part of it has been kicked off of Sebastian's legs, and another section hugs Sebastian's lower back, his hips and his ass, which makes up for it). Sebastian is strong - Kurt knew that before – but his muscular physique has always been hidden by the unflattering cut of that parochial Dalton uniform. Of course, Kurt has gotten to see much more of Sebastian's body since they've been at the beach, and he had seen Sebastian in board shorts before, even in his underwear, but it's amazing what a difference removing a few meager ounces of cotton makes. Sebastian is stunning (a word that Kurt doesn't toss around too often, usually reserving it for the latest in Vivienne Westwood or Alexander McQueen's genius), but without sounding too cliché there's no way around it, no other way to describe him, and even then, that single word doesn't seem to do him justice. He's got that mixture of rugged, athletic, all-American effortless good-looks and charm that any human being with two eyes and a brain craves.
Kurt craves him right now. He wants to make up for lost time, dial back denial and reclaim every wasted moment. He wouldn't go so far as to erase all the arguments they ever had or every snarky remark they've ever made to one another. Kurt has to be realistic. There is a good portion of the time that they've known each other (misunderstood or not) where Sebastian acted like an insufferable, selfish, manipulative jerk. But if he could travel back to, say, the fourth of July (knowing what he knows now), Kurt would develop a better appreciation for every one of Sebastian's unaffected laughs, every time he caught Sebastian staring, every phone call Sebastian made or text that he sent where the conversation between them held a veiled double-meaning.
Kurt would follow up every argument with a kiss.
Kurt gets the sneaky idea to wake Sebastian up by reciprocating for last night. He knows that Sebastian said he didn't give Kurt that amazing blowjob in the hopes of getting one back, but today is a brand new day. New day, new rules. He can use that as a plausible argument, right? Flashbacks from the previous evening flood Kurt's brain and he has to take a pause as the images flare brightly in his memory – Sebastian looking up at him with unexpected guileless fervor, the way he reached for Kurt, linking their hands together, the feeling of his tongue caressing Kurt's skin. This was a brand of intimacy that Kurt hadn't expected from Sebastian – not right away, maybe not ever – but knowing that it exists, that it's been hiding there inside Sebastian all this time…
Kurt's stomach flips, and then twists into a tight, tangled mess.
There's such an unsettling duality to their relationship. In some ways, Sebastian has a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde vibe going on, but beyond that, Kurt feels like he and Sebastian are rushing into this thing that he's waited forever for.
The clouds outside, which have been keeping the sky mellow with their grey cover, part ways and the room fills with the golden light of a new day that crept up on them. Kurt sighs when it blurs his vision, rays seeping their way into Sebastian's skin. Kurt turns his head toward the windows with a grimace pushing down on his lips to greet the invasive light. The rays remind Kurt that time marches on. There's a world outside this room that, despite his best efforts, continues to find a way to make its presence known. Kurt could stay in bed all day with Sebastian, but with his boyfriend asleep, this actually gives Kurt a good opportunity to rectify some things he has neglected to do. He wants to record what's left of this amazing trip so that he has more than his memories to reflect on when the time to leave comes.
But first, he's going to make himself a nice, hot cup of coffee, and go sit on Sebastian's porch swing.
It's a difficult endeavor climbing out from underneath Sebastian's arm and removing his stiff ankle from where it's sandwiched between Sebastian's legs. When Kurt moves the first time, Sebastian stirs. He tightens his grip around Kurt's body and makes a small, distressed noise that claws at Kurt's heart and almost convinces him to stay. But the added effect of gravity on his full bladder turns his want into a need, and Kurt finds himself contorting, scooting down the length of the bed on his back to escape Sebastian's arm, then awkwardly sliding off the edge, landing squarely on his ass onto the ice cold floor.
Kurt scrambles to his knees, quietly mumbling ow ow ow ow when he puts weight on his sore leg, and peeks up quickly to make sure that Sebastian stayed asleep. That wasn't Kurt's most graceful moment, and definitely not the image he wants to leave his boyfriend with before he limps away to the bathroom. He raises his eyes to the level of the mattress and sees Sebastian, face half-hidden by his bent arm, sound asleep, breaths quiet and even. Kurt watches him a second before he rises to his feet, unsteady on his injured leg, and hobbles off to the bathroom, his need to pee more urgent than ever since the chill from the floor hit his spine. He thinks he hears a chuckle follow him as he goes, but it must have been nerves because when he returns, vastly more relieved, Sebastian is still asleep. He's moved – rolled onto his stomach, limbs splayed like a starfish. He has Kurt's pillow pulled beneath his head with his cheek resting against it, the end bunched toward his face, his nose buried in the fabric.
Kurt looks at this position, with the pillowcase beneath his nose, and wonders if he unconsciously placed the pillow there to block the sun from his eyes, or did he do it in search of a missing Kurt.
Kurt gathers up the clothes that Sebastian lent him and quickly dresses, sans underwear per Sebastian's request (he didn't exactly give Kurt a choice, but who is Kurt to deny his boyfriend?). He grabs his neglected phone - the message alert light blinking like a frantic warning beacon - and shoves it in his pocket, a sinking feeling following at the thought of unlocking the screen and checking his messages. When he first saw the green light, he could almost hear the bellow of a klaxon whirring in his head, accompanied by a tinny robotic voice screaming Warning! Warning! Angst and drama ahead! The voice reminded him a lot of Rachel Berry, to be honest. He has no other way to take pictures, so glimpsing the alert light or any snippet of his messages is a necessary evil. He tries to ignore it for now, regardless of how heavy its presence seems in the pocket of his pants, and pads his way out to the kitchen. Before he leaves the bedroom, he takes one more look over his shoulder at the exceptionally naked boy sleeping in the bed, grinning to himself at the knowledge that this boy was his.
The kitchen is brighter than the bedroom since the windows that face it capture more of the morning sunlight. Kurt suspects that the house was constructed that way on purpose - with the half facing the ocean in the shape of a triangle to tilt the common rooms toward the sunrise, providing those rooms with more light during the day and directing less light to the bedrooms. That way, the house requires almost no electric light during the day and accommodates those who want to sleep in.
Intelligent planning - Kurt adores it.
Kurt rummages through the cabinets on the hunt for coffee. He's been caffeine-free for a couple of days, and the withdrawal pangs are slaying him. It's gotten so bad that he starts salivating at the mere thought of having a cup. He sifts past boxes of crackers, cereal, tea, cans of vegetables, soup… He whines pitifully, beginning to think that Sebastian purposefully didn't buy coffee when he went shopping, knowing how much Kurt wanted it, just to irk him, until his hand touches a cool, smooth bag that deflates beneath his touch. It makes that telltale crunch noise that bags of coffee make, releasing a pungent whiff of Arabica goodness.
The single short-lived smell opens Kurt's eyes - a Pavlovian response to that bitter fragrance.
Kurt brings down the bag, his eyes opening wider when he sees the red and silver foil packaging branded with a giant number 3 on the front.
It's not just a run-of-the-mill bag of coffee – it's Kurt's favorite brand of coffee. Seattle's Best. That had to be why Sebastian bought it, Kurt realizes promptly and without a doubt. Yes, Seattle's Best is the lowly little brother of upmarket Starbucks brand, but somehow he doesn't see Sebastian favoring a working class coffee. If he can't stand the smell of public school, he probably wouldn't buy a paltry $6 bag of coffee. Sebastian probably drinks that imported stuff ground from beans eaten and pooped out by cats in the Amazon (or wherever they're from. To be frank, Kurt's mind usually switches off at the mention of cat poop coffee).
Kurt mulls ruefully as he looks over the red and silver bag - another detail that he has never thought to ask.
Kurt mentally adds this to the list of things that they hadn't expressly discussed, but that Sebastian just seems to know about him. Though in this case, Sebastian could have simply seen the bag of grounds in Kurt's kitchen when he and Julian wrecked it trying to make breakfast, but the fact that he remembered makes all of the difference.
Kurt pulls out the coffee maker and plugs it in. He fills the glass carafe with water, deciding to make enough coffee for two mugs in case Sebastian should wake up and want some. Then he opens the bag. It feels like a sacred ritual, ripping through the sticker seal, unrolling the top, and tearing it open at the seam. The scent of coffee is stronger now that he's opened the bag. Kurt leans down, sticking his nose in the mouth of the bag to full inhale it, letting the aroma absorb into him, arousing his senses, reviving any part of him fighting for sleep.
It seems like it takes an eternity before the coffee machine starts to steam and drip, and not because he's jonesing for a cup (though he is), but because in the back of his mind, those text messages sitting in his phone's inbox, waiting for him to open them, niggle at his head. As his caffeine fix du jour starts to spit into the carafe, he fantasizes the worst of the most patronizing but subtly cruel messages that Rachel Berry – or any of his other friends – can contrive. They fire at him in the form of bullet points, shooting him full of self-doubt, their true meanings clear:
Traitor
Soulmate
New York
NYADA
Fortunately, the coffee finishes and he fills himself a mug before he considers the fact that he may have to eliminate the last two items from that list. He finds a container of cream in the refrigerator and sighs with relief. He had been afraid that Sebastian had used all the cream making his exquisite leek soup. He locates the sugar and dresses his cup – a splash of cream, half a spoon of sugar. He lifts the cup to his lips as he shuffles back toward the bedroom, taking a tentative sip, then stopping mid-step to fully appreciate the glorious perfection bathing his tongue.
A gorgeous boy, a seaside vacation, and the perfect cup of coffee.
This is definitely a life Kurt could see himself getting used to.
He tiptoes back into the bedroom, cutting across the floor on silent footsteps, headed for the porch door, when the view from the window captures his attention – the pounding surf, the sandy beach, the radiant cornflower blue sky. He has woken to this felicity every morning.
This he wants to remember, from this vantage point, standing just where he is. He puts his cup down on an obliging dresser and fishes in his pocket for his phone. He wraps his hand around it and sighs. Best to get this over with quickly. He reminds himself that he's not going to read the messages. He only needs the phone for the camera app. On the off chance that he should accidentally open his inbox, any words or sentence fragments that slip into his view would be taken completely out of context, so he should purge them from his memory immediately.
Easier said than done.
He pulls out his phone, unlocks the screen, and with his finger hovering over the icon for the camera app, his eyes glimpse the message icon with the big red number plastered above it. He freezes.
It's worse than he thought.
The amount of text messages accumulating on his phone are reaching epic proportions, but he can't bring himself to open them – not yet. Nope, he thinks as he bypasses them. I'm not here. He doesn't need the sting of reality ruining his time with Sebastian, not from anyone. Then again, he knows there must be a message from his father shoved in among them, and he knows his father worries. As a compromise, he takes the initiative to send his father and only his father a message back – a generic all's well, I'm doing great, having a wonderful time, thank you again for understanding, I love you communiqué.
After he hits send, he opens the camera app and turns back toward the window. He holds the phone up, moving it back and forth till he gets the image outside the windows to fill the screen, and takes the shot. His camera clicks softly, but the sound resonates in the quiet room. Kurt stands still, throwing a look over his shoulder, and waiting to see if the sound wakes Sebastian from his sleep. Sebastian breathes in stuttered little huffs, murmurs, then falls back out.
Kurt checks the picture's composition after he takes it, making certain it looks exactly the way he wants – aureate beams breaking through the clouds and glancing across the water, foamy caps of the waves dissolving on the sand. He smiles. This is the view he wakes up to – this is exactly it. He selects the photo, about to upload the image to Facebook, but he stops. He's not sure what Sebastian would say, how public he wants to be about their relationship. It shouldn't matter. Sebastian wants to be with Kurt; he's made that pretty clear. But he might have privacy concerns, other reasons he wouldn't want his face on the Internet. Or maybe he would prefer to tell his friends about their relationship in person.
Kurt finds himself suddenly struck by a paradoxical set of circumstances. He's not Sebastian's friend on Facebook. According to Sebastian's original lie, the two of them have been dating since before the summer. What is Sebastian's relationship status on Facebook? Does it mention Kurt in any way? He would think not. Kurt has a few remaining friends among the Warblers – friends that he and Sebastian share - and he hasn't heard a word about it from them. Kurt's not sure about how some of them might react to the news, but Jeff Sterling and Nick Duval for sure would have sent him a slew of inappropriate text messages by now.
They would have definitely told Bl- the-boy-who-will-not-be-named
Alas, another thing that would have been good for him to know.
Kurt looks at his magical, Hallmark-card-worthy photograph and hits the upload button. Sebastian isn't in this picture, and Kurt doesn't have to mention him. If he captions his pictures with ambiguous comments about the wonderful time he's having in North Carolina without bringing up who he's with, it won't matter. He wants his friends to see the fabulous time he's having. Considering the very public nature of his break-up, he wants his friends to know he's okay, that he's happy, that he's not sulking around Lima, or working at the Lima Bean all summer.
Sebastian makes another noise and Kurt watches him to see if he'll wake. Sebastian rises up on his hands and knees an inch, tilts his head, then collapses back to the mattress, the blanket slipping down his back, exposing it to just above the swell of his ass. His arms sneak beneath the pillow under his head, and he snuggles in against it, taking a breath in and exhaling out, sounding completely at ease and content.
Content because of Kurt.
Kurt is charmed by that thought.
Kurt bites his lower lip and raises his phone, training it on Sebastian lying asleep in bed, and snaps a picture. The image appears on the screen – artistically angled instead of precisely straight, Sebastian's head bowed into the pillow so only a sliver of his face shows, back uncovered, the cut of his muscles throwing shadows across his skin, white sheet wound tight around his bottom half.
It's an awe-inspiring shot.
Kurt stares at the picture while he grabs his coffee mug, the liquid now borderline warm instead of screaming hot, and devoid of its rising wisps of steam, but Kurt is not complaining. His morning has been beyond compare.
He wedges his phone under his chin to free up one hand before he opens the porch door. He lifts the lever lock and slides the door open slowly, the door frame sticking in its rails as if this door hasn't been opened in forever. He shivers as a cold onshore breeze circles around his feet and rushes into the room. Kurt hurries through the narrow opening he's made and closes the door behind him. A blast of cold air invading their warm sanctuary isn't the way Kurt hopes to wake Sebastian this morning.
Kurt takes a healthy sip of his coffee and retrieves his phone, snapping pictures of the swing, the house, and the beach down below. He uploads them to Facebook, adding snobbish captions like I think I'll spend today relaxing on this private beach or Sitting on a swing and drinking my morning coffee with a sublime view of the Atlantic to keep me company. Jealous yet? He finishes typing in his last caption, and then, the long-awaited moment arrives. He turns his back to the swing chair and lowers himself into it, sighing as he sinks into the seat.
"Yeeaahh," Kurt says, drawing the word out until he's completely settled with the mug of coffee up against his lips. "This is the good life." Kurt flips his phone around, holds it out at arm's length, and takes a picture of himself.
"I'm glad you like it."
Kurt smiles, his cheeks pinking at the sound of Sebastian's voice, unable to resist the thought of Sebastian's mouth on him. He's left invisible imprints that Kurt can feel tingle in response when he speaks.
"It'll do," Kurt says, kicking his legs off the deck to start the swing swaying and taking another sip of his coffee.
Sebastian walks over but stops a foot away, staring at the swing, contemplating something before he closes the distance and takes the seat beside Kurt. He sits close, rubbing their arms together, huddled in tight beside Kurt as a shield against the cold.
"You know, I was right," Sebastian says out of nowhere.
"Hmmm?" Kurt murmurs, swallowing another sip. "Right about what?"
Sebastian turns his glassy green eyes on Kurt - green eyes that darken beneath the light of the sun.
Eyes telling Kurt that Sebastian remembers last night as vividly as he does.
"My name on your lips during the throes of ecstasy is hot as fuck," he says unapologetically. Kurt's body overheats at Sebastian's remark, and he hides his face behind the already empty coffee mug. He remembers when Sebastian said something similar to Julian. Kurt thought his comment was crass at the time, but now it has a decidedly different effect on Kurt. It works on his muscles, turning them to jelly.
And it makes him hard – achingly hard – so that he needs to cross his legs to calm himself down.
"I'm sorry if I woke you," Kurt says, putting the empty cup down on the deck and wrapping his arms around himself, rubbing along his skin with his palms to chase away the goose bumps.
"You did wake me," Sebastian confirms, putting an arm around Kurt's shoulders and drawing him into the warmth of his body, "but that's okay. So, you finally made it out here. I know you've had your heart set on coming out here since we arrived."
"A-ha," Kurt says, relaxing into the lee of Sebastian's body. "It's so nice out here. Peaceful…"
"Yeah, it's pretty chill," Sebastian agrees, but it's not all too convincing. The tone of Sebastian's voice strikes Kurt as kind of peculiar.
If Kurt had to speculate, he would guess that Sebastian doesn't actually like it out on the porch.
"You were taking a selfie," Sebastian says, grabbing Kurt's phone with Kurt fumbling to snatch it back. "Here, let me help you." Kurt expects Sebastian to stand up and take a picture of him on the swing, but instead he turns the phone on both of them sitting together. "Okay, say Velveeta."
"Velveeta!" Kurt crows, astonished that Sebastian would want to take a picture with him.
Sebastian flips the phone over in his hand to look at the photo.
"Cute," Sebastian says, handing the phone back to Kurt. "You should upload that one to Facebook."
Sebastian grins, appearing completely nonchalant about the subject, but the tone he uses makes his comment sound more like a dare…or a test.
A test that Kurt is determined to pass with flying colors. He looks down at the phone, selects the photo, and uploads it without batting an eye.
"There," Kurt says, slipping his phone in his pocket before Sebastian can take it again, terrified that Sebastian might stumble across the photo he snapped while he was asleep, "now everyone gets to see how proud I am of my sexy bedhead boyfriend."
Sebastian ducks his head, smiling, and runs a self-conscious hand through his hair.
They swing in silence, cuddled close together, Kurt relaxing into Sebastian's embrace, his head resting against Sebastian's shoulder. They take turns pushing the swing. It's an unspoken arrangement – Kurt kicks off with his right foot, then when the swing returns to rest, Sebastian keeps it going with a kick of his left foot.
"You've been outside, looking at the ocean every morning since we got here. What in the world are you going to do when we leave?" Sebastian asks, placing a kiss in Kurt's hair. Kurt knows he's teasing – not in the least bit sardonically, giddy with the afterglow of a glorious evening – but the comment stings anyway. Kurt tries not to think ahead. He can conceivably see staying in this beach house with Sebastian in North Carolina and living happily ever after. It's a daydream, impractical, and probably postcoitally conjured, he knows, but there it is.
"I guess I'll have to become unnaturally obsessed with something else," Kurt says, doing his best to hide the melancholy in his answer, "and hope that I'll be invited back here someday."
"Of course you'll be invited back," Sebastian says. He holds Kurt tight, in that way that suggests that Sebastian is afraid that if he doesn't, Kurt will simply disappear. "You'll come back for spring break and summer break…"
"You make it sound like I won't have a choice," Kurt laughs, snuggling deeper into Sebastian's arms, catching a soft sigh in Sebastian's throat when he does.
"You don't," Sebastian affirms. "You'll also be here for all the major holidays, like Easter, Thanksgiving, Arbor Day…"
"Thank goodness," Kurt cuts in with a dramatic sigh, putting a hand to his chest. "I was worried I would be the only one without any Arbor Day plans. You saved me from that embarrassment."
"Happy to help," Sebastian says, laughing Kurt's favorite laugh - the one that's spontaneous, carefree, and genuine. "Well, it is fucking freezing out here." Sebastian gives Kurt a squeeze and then stands from his seat, raising his arms over his head to stretch his back. His shirt lifts up a bit just as a breeze swirls around them, blowing underneath and lifting it up farther, causing Sebastian to crumple in on himself. Kurt chuckles at the dance Sebastian does to pull his shirt down, tugging on the hem and holding it close to his body, sealing the wind out.
"We have a big day ahead of us," Sebastian says with a yawn, taking a step backward away from the swaying swing, "so we'd better get started." Sebastian extends a hand his way, fingertips curled, beckoning Kurt to take it. Kurt stares at Sebastian's hand, silently pouting, not quite ready to relinquish his seat even though up on the cliff with the wind whipping their exposed flesh it is getting unbearably cold, the morning sun doing little to keep them warm.
Kurt misses Sebastian's body beside him.
Sebastian's eyes glance down, a little shyly, a little reservedly.
"Come shower with me?" he asks sweetly, eyebrows raised, his smile pleasant with only the faintest shadow of a smirk aimed Kurt's way.
That is an offer Kurt cannot turn down.
"Of course," he says, taking Sebastian's hand in his, letting Sebastian pull him out of the swing and into his arms. "What do you have on the menu for today?"
"Are we talking actual food, or…" Sebastian starts to walk backward toward the house without letting Kurt go, staggering rhythmically in something close to a sloppy waltz.
"I mean, what do you have planned to torture me with today?" Kurt asks, laughing when Sebastian's hand slips down his side and finds a ticklish spot.
"Well, remember the thing I had planned for yesterday that we didn't get the chance to do?" Sebastian asks, running his hand over the ticklish spot again to watch Kurt squirm.
"Yes…" Kurt laughs, grabbing Sebastian's hand and moving it away.
"We're doing it today." Sebastian's eyes sparkle, proud of this surprise, maybe a bit more so than all the others, leaving Kurt implicitly intrigued.
"Should I wear something special?" Kurt asks, grasping for hints. "Or are you going to force your style inept clothes on me again?"
They stop in front of the sliding door, and Sebastian reaches a hand back, preparing to open it.
"Just dress like your usual sexy self, hot stuff," Sebastian says with a sultry growl. "Oh, but you will need this…"
Sebastian releases his grip around Kurt's waist and reaches into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a familiar length of blue and red striped fabric. He holds it up in front of Kurt's face for him to examine, pinched in the middle between his thumb and forefinger.
It's his Dalton neck tie.
"I…need to wear a tie?" Kurt asks, taking the tie from Sebastian's hand and holding the accessory up to his neck, cocking an eyebrow. He didn't like these God-awful ties when he actually attended Dalton. After Dalton, he liked them even less. Besides, it doesn't go with a single thing he packed.
"Not as a tie," Sebastian says, tossing a wink at his confused boyfriend. "You're going to be wearing it…" Sebastian slips the tie from Kurt's fingers and holds it up to lightly cover Kurt's eyes, "as a blindfold."