AN: Thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers who are following me through this story. Please, please keep your faith in me!

*ducks under a table to hide*

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


Blaine hurries down the winding staircase, glancing at his beloved silver pocket watch. It tells him he's ten past late. He soundlessly scolds himself for being so reckless and losing track of time. He promised Wes to help the Council clear the room, but of course the research he did in the library took longer than expected. Blaine sighs at his own idiocy, and increases the pace, politely passing the hesitant Freshmen in front of him.

"Excuse me?" a very familiar voice asks behind him. Blaine stops, turns, and smiles at Kurt.

"Can I ask you a question? I'm new here," Kurt smiles hesitantly, as if he's not sure how to approach, using a joke to ease the potentially strained tension. There's a faint teasing glimmer in his eyes, so familiar from Kurt's rare playful side.

They haven't really talked or hung out lately. It's more than a week since Blaine supported Kurt in coming out to Nick and Jeff. Ever since, Kurt has seemed distant, lost in thought, scrutinizing. As if he has been evaluating his surroundings, or looking at them in a new light. Blaine has also seen him spend time with the two boys. Blaine is glad Kurt is more relaxed, daring to open up, making new friends. He had to force himself to ignore the little green monster, reminding himself Nick and Jeff are very much in love and he has nothing to fear from them.

Blaine smiles sincerely at him, and nods, as if to egg Kurt's question on.

"So what exactly is going on?" Kurt finally asks, gesturing at the stream of uniform clad teenagers scurrying down the stairs.

"The Warblers," Blaine says happily, as if it is obvious. But then he remembers Kurt really doesn't know much about Dalton's Glee club. "Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the Senior common's. It tends to shut the school down for a while," Blaine winks, proud of what his friends are able to encompass in otherwise disciplined and behaved surroundings. "Come on, I know a shortcut."

Impulsively, he takes Kurt's hand, and yanks him with him. Blaine does know a shortcut. When crowded hallways and a strong need for personal space clash, it's good to know his way around the school. The days Blaine is feeling particularly vulnerable, and his intimate radius increases, it comes in handy to know which hallways are populated like the 71 during rush hour, and which hallways are more or less deserted. And today it can actually buy him some time, to take the unrestricted, empty hallways out of the west wing, and the lesser used gravel path to the dormitories.


They reach the Senior common's just as the Warblers are beginning the electric organ and drum-sounding intro. The boys are dancing around, aiding the drum beat by using their fists loosely on a couple of tables.

"I want to break free!" Sebastian sings, and Kurt tries to watch the performance without prejudice. He's apologized for how he treated Sebastian, but the boy is still rubbing him the wrong way. Kurt should be seasoned enough to recognize true talent, though.

Kurt leans against the wall, trying to watch the Warblers objectively. Blaine is standing a few feet in front of him, pulled and pushed forward by the eager and ecstatic crowd. Everyone knows he's an honorary Warbler, nobody understand why he isn't part of the performance. He knew about this before anyone else outside of the group of singing young men, and he's been part of arranging the song in beats and harmonies. Blaine's an invisible force behind their technical quality.

Sebastian saunters forward, stepping right in front of Blaine.

"I've fallen in love. I've fallen in love for the first time. And this time I know it's for real. I've fallen in love, yeah. God knows, God knows I've fallen in love."

His flirting is painfully obvious, but the way he's eyeing Blaine and grabbing his tie seems more like lust than love. From his position, Kurt can't see how Blaine reacts, and he's surprised to acknowledge he wants to know. Is there something between the two of them?

Sebastian moves on and whisks Trent off in a waltz, spins him out from his body, lets go of his hand, and moves on to the next boy he passes, who happens to be Jeff.

"But life still goes on. I can't get used to living without, living without, living without you, by my side. I don't want to live alone, hey. God knows got to make it on my own. So baby can't you see, I've got to break free."

Sebastian engages David in a tight tango, and Kurt can see Blaine laughing at the sight, wiping his eyes.

If Kurt hadn't already been leaning against the wall, he would probably have been floored. An openly gay guy is blatantly flirting with other guys during a school performance, both queer and straight. It's one thing that Nick and Jeff can date without repercussions, but to actually shove "the gay" down people's throat during a public performance?

Kurt surreptitiously takes in the faces of the Dalton students he can see to garner their reactions to Sebastian's almost demonstrative performance. The kick in the head is how into the number they all seem to be, clapping and dancing on the spot, fists raised in the air, cheering and grinning.

Can it be that this isn't Sebastian being demonstrative and forcing out a point? Can it be that this is Sebastian taking the same obvious and unquestionable liberties Kurt's seen everyone but him within New Directions act on? Can it be that this isn't any different than Rachel playfully chasing Finn around Brad by the piano, or Puck wooing Mercedes through song, or his own disastrous attempt at serenading Finn? Except Kurt could never have done that during a school assembly, which this more or less is; attendance optional, but obviously eagerly complied. So maybe this is somewhat like – good gods – Push It?


The cheering is gratifying, but Sebastian smirks coolly to his fellow Warblers, pretending it doesn't get to him. He's untouchable. Unwillingly, the song reminds him of Jacques, and maybe it was a unconscious reason when suggesting this song after the Council announced they needed to prepare for their upcoming impromptu performance (God, the irony!).

There's an annoying ache in Sebastian's heart, and not even staring at Blaine's pretty face and toying with him and his tie could sooth the pain.

Sebastian would like to retreat to his room and spend some time on his own in the darkness with Jacques' ghost. If it was later in the afternoon, he might have gone to Scandals. He needs something to distract him, someone to do. But the Council had decided they should all go out for team spirit-building pizza after the performance. This lesson was already a lost cause for the teachers, and apparently, nobody will expect the Warblers to show up for the next class before the day is over. For some reason Sebastian cannot fathom, the students aren't the only perceiving the Warblers as some kind of rock stars. The administration keeps giving them all kinds of leverage, as long as they contribute to the stellar reputation the school holds. Whatever. Sebastian is just happy to be doing something he enjoys.


Over the modern speaker system, a clear voice without the usual metallic rasp dismisses the student body for the rest of the day. Kurt hears his roommate and said boy's boyfriend talk about pizza with the rest of the Warblers, and he notices them leave the room, obviously high on the response to their performance.

It doesn't take much brain activity for Kurt to realize both his and Blaine's rooms should be empty for the next few hours. His eyes scan the room for his friend, and they land on the familiar shape of Blaine. Even in a crowd of blazers, he stands out. The boy is literally cornered by Sebastian, who's leaning on his elbow against the wall, fingers scratching the back of his neck. One ankle crossed over the other, tapping some whimsical rhythm, and he's just looming into Blaine's personal space. Blaine gives that polite smile Kurt has begun to recognize as plastered on and not entirely truthful. But at the same time, he's looking at Sebastian through his eyelashes, and it's such an endearing sight when Blaine does that, regardless of how much taller Sebastian is. Blaine has looked at Kurt like that sometimes, and it does something to Kurt's stomach.

It also does something to Kurt's stomach to see the boys so close. Kurt is considering how ignorant and naïve he can pretend to be, walking up to them and interrupt whatever is going on. Before he can make up his mind, Thad pats Sebastian's shoulder in a light and friendly manner, saying something to him Kurt can't hear, and the two boys walk out of the room together. Probably for pizza.

Sebastian looks back at Blaine, and waves with his fingers and mouths a "toodeloo." Blaine blushes and ducks his head. Kurt glares in Sebastian's direction, and walks purposefully to Blaine.

"I seem to have some unexpected free time. Would you like to hang out, watch a movie or something?"

They end up in Kurt's bed, The Notebook on his laptop.

It's nice, spending some quiet time with his friend. It's nice not having to talk all the time, without it getting awkward. It's nice having someone to have this ease with. Even though he's getting closer to and more comfortable with Jeff, and thus Nick, it's far from the same.

There's a lot of thoughts and impressions forcing their way to the forefront of Kurt's mind, but he does his best to push them back. He just can't deal with anything serious and soul searching today. He just wants to relax with Blaine, he just wants uncomplicated and safe.

Kurt's seen the movie several times before; it's food for his romantic soul. Whenever Noah is reading to Allie, he can't help the few tears escaping his eyes. He cries silently, so Blaine doesn't notice in the beginning, but when he does, he wraps an arm around Kurt's waist and wordlessly pulls him closer until Kurt is resting his head on Blaine's chest, right over his heart.

The movie ends, and Blaine sighs deeply, audibly. Kurt lifts his head to look at him. Blaine smiles at him, but his eyes are moist. They don't say anything. Blaine's lips are slightly parted, and he looks so sad. Kurt hates seeing him like that. So he kisses the sadness away. He kisses him until he's smiling against his lips. He kisses him until he's sighing and gasping for entirely other reasons. He kisses him with his entire body, until Blaine is writhing under him. He kisses him tenderly while his body is obeying its animalistic instincts. He kisses him until Kurt's unable to get enough air to his lungs, and collapses sated on top of Blaine's pliant, spilled body.


They are in Blaine's room a few days later, Wes busy with the Warblers. Kurt is bent over the guitar, trying to make his fingers curl and hit the right strings between the right frets. Blaine is simply watching, letting Kurt use his musical ear and intuition to find the right chord. The tip of his tongue is poking out by the corner of Kurt's mouth, his forehead is wrinkled, and his eyes are fixed on his less than cooperative ring finger.

"This hurts," Kurt eventually complains, shaking his hand and flexing his fingers. "You make it look so easy," he pouts.

"That's because you didn't see when I first sat down with a guitar. It literally cost me blood, sweat and tears. I made my finger tips bleed," he adds at Kurt's questioningly face.

Kurt extends a hand to take his, and examines his fingers.

"They've healed by now," Blaine chuckles.

"I hadn't noticed how different they feel," Kurt murmurs, sounding fascinated and dazed. He lightly runs his index finger along Blaine's fingers, tracing the calloused skin, the evidence of Blaine's relentless guitar playing through years. His finger tips have in common this permanent dip, narrow groove, etched into his skin after a countless number of hours with the instrument. It's as if his body has been sculpted for the guitar, it's as if the flesh and metal is made to fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle. The guitar is an extension of him. Or maybe he is the needed gadget for the guitar to bloom. Sometimes, the guitar is his voice when he can't phrase his emotions on his own. Sometimes, the guitar is his shield when he feels naked and vulnerable on his own. Sometimes, the guitar is his diary when he needs an outlet for his busy mind. The guitar is almost as old as he is, and has a few scratches; war wounds from a reckless kid-Blaine, and from a few unfortunate accidents during some wilder Dalton episodes. There are a few words scribbled hastily to the back of the guitar, from when a perfect sentence forced its way out, and Blaine had neither paper nor his phone to dot it down on. So he marked his guitar, the same way it has marked his fingers. They fit. They belong.

"I'm sorry I'm such a freak," Blaine says teasingly, aiming for humour, but silently worrying if Kurt's repulsed by it. Kurt's own skin is so soft and smooth.

"No, not a freak," Kurt inhales and blushes, and that peaks Blaine's curiosity.

"What?"

"Nothing," Kurt shakes his head, blushing even more.

"Come on," Blaine encourages, prodding his foot against Kurt's. Normally, he wouldn't be this insistent, but Kurt has tickled his curiosity, and he thinks they are close enough to tell each other everything and be at ease with each other. And if there's something about playing the guitar Kurt wonders about, Blaine is happy to assist.

"It's silly," Kurt murmurs, staring intently on Blaine's fingers, and still running his index finger along the skin.

"Nothing's silly when it's from you," Blaine assures him.

Kurt looks up at that, a small smile tugging at his lips. He blinks slowly, and looks away.

"I was just thinking about how…"

Blaine hums encouragingly.

"…How they would feel, against skin," Kurt rushes out, blushing furiously, and Blaine wonders exactly where the skin Kurt's thinking about is. "I mean, the touch of a fingertip can be so sensual if done right. And I know how my fingers feel on me… when I do my skin care regime," he hurries to add, too rushed to sound like an explanation, more like an excuse. "But I've never really paid attention to the feeling of… You know… Different hands on me," he stutters, caressing the dips and hardened skin on Blaine's finger tips.

It's not as if they haven't touched each other over the clothes when they've made out. But they've both been so blindfolded by hormones, dizzy with the overwhelming reality, and stumblingly rushing - like the teenage virgins they probably are - towards the goal, forgetting about the journey.

This is also the closest they've ever come to acknowledging what's been going on between them. Neither has ever mentioned nor initiated a conversation about it, rather, they've simply gone with the flow.

Talking about what they are doing is daunting, even though it may be what they need. But Blaine is still working up momentum to something like that, and tonight is not the night. Somehow, doing is easier, and he leans in to run his fingers down Kurt's cheek.

Kurt closes his eyes, taking controlled breaths. Blaine can see his chest sink and rise in an even rhythm. He cups his cheek briefly, before trailing a finger along his jaw line, and down his neck, peaking down the collar of his shirt.

A shiver runs through Kurt, who blindly lifts the guitar away from his lap and manages to place it safely on the floor without looking.

"Is this different from your fingers?" he whispers.

Kurt simply nods, lips parted and tiny huffs of breath escaping his mouth.

With the guitar no longer a barrier between them, Blaine shuffles closer.

Slowly, Kurt reaches out a hand, and hesitantly traces his fingertip across Blaine's face. As he is acquainted with the dips, curves and particularities of his face, his finger grows more and more confident. Blaine can feel it as a firmer slide, skin on skin. He sees it on Kurt's face, which fades from uncertainty to marvelling, to something that looks like adoration.

Kurt stops by Blaine's shirt collar, just as Blaine's own hand is resting against Kurt, feeling his pulse thrumming under his finger. But unlike Blaine, Kurt's hand moves to the Windsor. He tugs gently, not firm enough to really loosen it. He looks up at Blaine, smiling crookedly. Blaine runs a thumb across Kurt's naked skin above his tie, and Kurt's breath hitches.

Blaine thinks about how brave Kurt is for coming out to Nick and Jeff, and he thinks about how much progress he's showing. He thinks about how he's searching for the right time, and then he'll ask Kurt to be his boyfriend and show the entire school what an amazing boy he is. In the meantime, they have private moments like these.

So he closes the distance, and kisses him sweetly. Kurt gasps against his lips, and grabs at his tie. Blaine cups his cheek again, to steady himself, to steady Kurt, he doesn't know. The kiss heatens, and can't be described as anything but dirty.

Somehow, Blaine's tie is pooled between them, and his shirt is half unbuttoned. More surprisingly is it that Kurt's shirt is on its way down his shoulders. Blaine pants, staring wordlessly at Kurt, eyes flickering between the fabric fisted by his fingers and Kurt's eyes.

"Blaine…"

"Kurt?"

Kurt moves his hands from Blaine's button placket, and eases them out of the sleeves of his own shirt. Blaine stares reverently at him. He's never seen the other boy shirtless before, and he doesn't know if there's enough hours in the future time span until doomsday to take in all the beauty and marvel that is Kurt's body.

But Kurt fidgets under his scrutiny, so Blaine places a hand over Kurt's heart.

"So gorgeous," he murmurs, and kisses Kurt again.

With closed eyes, he lets Kurt take over the kiss, and simply succumbs to the more familiar motions, while focusing on ten fingers and two hands roaming slowly over the bared, firm, spectacular plains that are Kurt, and what they discover.

Kurt pants, unable to maintain the kiss, and is simply leaning his forehead against Blaine's. He pants, gasps, hisses, hums and moans as Blaine explores him. He lifts one of Kurt's limp arms, kissing it tenderly on top of the leather cuff he knows is hiding the scars that would reveal Kurt as a survivor and a fighter.

He jerks the hand out of Blaine's loose grip, and busies himself with unbuttoning the rest of Blaine's shirt. It's Kurt's turn to run his fingers all over him, and Blaine can't decide between closing his eyes to not be distracted from the sensations of being touched, and keeping his eyes open to see what Kurt is doing and watching the awed expressions on his face, which Blaine is pretty sure he is mirroring.

Somehow, they end up with Blaine on his back, Kurt straddling him. He's running his fingers through the narrow, scarce happy trail, and it's making something really happy.

A thumb is resting on Blaine's belt buckle. He looks silently at Blaine, the obvious question screaming from his eyes. Blaine swallows, and nods minutely. He can't deny Kurt anything, and he probably isn't able to deny himself this either. And Kurt smiles, almost tenderly, as he swiftly opens the belt and pops the button. It's as if Blaine can suddenly breathe freer, with less restricting material to his lower regions. Kurt swallows audibly, blinks four times, bites his lower lip, but is determined, firm and gentle as he lowers Blaine's pants down his thighs. There's no way Blaine can hide his obvious excitement now.

Kurt softly rests a hand on top of Blaine's excitement, only the thin fabric of his boxer briefs separating skin from skin. And why did Blaine have to wear turquoise briefs with colourful balloons today, of all days? But Kurt doesn't say anything, he doesn't laugh, he's simply caressing Blaine. He toys with the elastics, and quirks an eyebrow at Blaine, and that makes Blaine laugh. He's not going to stop him now! Kurt laughs with him, and it's the boy's beauty that takes Blaine's breath away, not how his underwear is suddenly removed.

It's not the first time Kurt's had his hand there, but it's the first time in such a bared position. Blaine feels naked, feels exposed. He feels overwhelmed, he feels as if this is too much, but it isn't enough when Kurt slows his pace and watches in amazement as his hand runs up and down the shaft, and how the head disappears into his fist and then pops up again.

If Kurt hadn't been straddling him, Blaine thinks he would float, and then he'd disappear with the barely there-breeze the air conditioning is making. He'd be taken down the hallway, out through an unfortunately open window, and just disappear. Blaine needs to ground himself, so he places his hands on Kurt's thighs. He needs to feel him, he needs to be present in the situation, and not simply observe what happens to him. His eyes land on Kurt's crotch, and Blaine isn't the only one with obvious excitement. He tightens his hold, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then allows himself to succumb to the sensation of Kurt's hands on him.

Like a rocket, Blaine explodes fast and overwhelmingly. There are fireworks and every single cliché in the book. Again, he's glad Kurt is on top of him; otherwise, he would be gone with the wind by now.

As he slowly lands, feeling the bed solid under his back again, and his heart running at a healthier pace, he manages to focus his eyes on Kurt. The boy is looking quizzically at his hand, come slowly drooling between his fingers down to the white, sticky spurts on Blaine's abdomen. Blaine can't help but laugh, because Kurt looks utterly confused, as if he doesn't know what to do with that kind of body fluids. He looks around to find anything Kurt can wipe his hands with, but comes up with nothing. Blaine usually does this in the shower. But Blaine didn't spend two years as a boy scout for nothing, so he grabs one of his pillows, and quickly peels off the pillow case, thrusting it into Kurt's hand. Kurt's about to argue, but Blaine shushes him, and the damage is already done, so.

Kurt barely manages to wipe off Blaine's stomach, before the boy surges forward and kisses him. Without grace and elegance, he yanks them 180 degrees, Kurt on his back. Blaine's hands are trembling, but it's of anticipation, and nothing else. He gives Kurt a moment to object, before removing enough clothes so he can return the favour.

He uses his left hand, which is the one the most marked from his guitar playing. It's a bit awkward, considering he's right handed, and the angle is slightly different. But from the way Kurt is visibly concentrating to keep stiff still and muffling his sounds, Blaine assumes he must be doing something right.

"Does it feel different?" he murmurs, running his callused fingertips along the shaft. It had been what Kurt initially thought about, wondered about, and Blaine is curious. He already knows that Kurt's pristine, delicate and untarnished hand feels different on him from what his own does.

"Hnngh," Kurt answers.

Blaine smiles sweetly at him, at what they have and do. It's just a matter of practicalities and some more planning, before he can ask him out. Enraptured, he listens to Kurt, who's struggling with keeping silent as Blaine wraps his fingers around him, and moving along the warm and hard silk of Kurt's extended member. He brushes a thumb over his head, once, twice, to gather the moisture to help make the movements more fluid.

Kurt's sounds are music to Blaine's ear, and it suddenly strikes him. He should sing something to Kurt; serenade him when he asks him out. Music is important to the both of them, and some of their bonding moments have been through music. Why hasn't he thought about it before? Find the perfect song, ask the guy out, and live happily ever after. For once, Blaine's life looks like a fairytale.

He smiles, and locks eyes with Kurt. He shifts somewhat closer in his straddling position over Kurt's thighs, and gets a better hold of Kurt. Kurt is fisting the bed sheet so hard his knuckles are white and pronounced. Blaine leans down and kisses him deeply, rendering him breathless and ragged. He swallows Kurt's moans as he spills between them.


"J'ai repensé," Kurt hums to the by now familiar dog. They're both sitting on one of the white benches, soaking up some early spring sun. Kurt's just out of class from a double of French, and even though it's his favourite subject, and nothing that usually requires a lot of brain activity from him, it's still an effort to concentrate on what the teacher says. It's a huge difference between rambling on and on in French, and to say what the teacher needs to hear. It always takes a moment to switch to a different mind frame enabling him to think in French instead of English. Likewise the other way around. He's so immersed in everything French it takes a mental reboot to go back to English.

The dog is waiting patiently for Kurt to talk, head tilted and ears pointing forward in attention.

"Je t'appelle Inferno," Kurt declares. He's been thinking about it for some time, how weird it is that a dog could weave its way into Kurt's consciousness like that, but the fact is that the dog has been on his mind from time to time, and Kurt's grown to rather expect the dog whenever he ventures into the park by now. But it feels so impersonal to call the dog The Dog. So he needed a name. From the way the dog stands when it pees, Kurt assumes it's a male. Not that it matters. Kurt's not opposed to untraditional naming, and it's not as if the dog will object or anyone know. The dog's flaming coat and rapid speed prompted the name Inferno.

Kurt quietly hums, and Inferno jumps down from the bench to sniff the grass, or as Kurt has come to think about it – check his Facebook for what's new, what's happening, who's around, what did he miss and what can he catch up on.

If this was a normal park where dogs are usually walked, and not a painstakingly well maintained recreational area within school grounds, Inferno would probably have more Facebook updates and requests to check out. As it is, his work is quickly finished, and he comes back to rest by Kurt's feet.

Kurt realizes he's been humming on I want to break free. Again. Maybe, just maybe, he should dare to think about what it could mean.

"What do you think, Inferno? Should I break free?"

Inferno barks, and wags his tail eagerly, sending gravel in every direction.

"Walk with me," he encourages as he gets up from the bench. They walk slowly along the path, further along than Kurt's ever been. It's okay, he doesn't have any more classes today, the only thing waiting is dinner if he finds any appetite for it. It's nice to walk, to move around, to use his body. It's a pleasant day, so he can explore the literal path less walked. Inferno is trotting by his knee. Now and then, he'll make a detour to check out a new update or tag himself in an uploaded picture in his version of Facebook, but he always comes back to his position by Kurt's knee.

"I guess," Kurt says slowly, "maybe it's about time I challenge myself. If I want to get off the pills, I have to show Christy some progress. And from what I've seen in this school the last weeks… Maybe I really am safe here?"

Inferno pokes Kurt's limp hand with his muzzle, and licks it thoroughly. Kurt takes it as Inferno likes his status update.


It's to be said that when Kurt Elizabeth Hummel has made up his mind, it's borderline impossible to stop him. His fierce determination could probably move mountains, if it ever was in his interest. He just has to remember how bold and headstrong he once was.

It's merely a few hours since he left Inferno, and he's sitting opposite Blaine in the dining hall. Blaine is eating chicken breast with brown rice, salad and a spicy sauce. Kurt is poking in his salmon stew with beans, mushrooms and salad.

"I want to audition for the Warblers," he says bluntly, after giving up his inner search for a more delicate approach to the subject.

The food falls off Blaine's fork. He coughs, daintily presses the napkin against his lips, making sure to wipe the corners, before taking a sip of his water.

"Excuse me?"

Kurt sighs, and sits back in his chair, pushing his plate away.

"I miss singing," he says, which isn't false. "I need to make more friends," he says, which is also part of the truth. "I should push myself more to make progress," he says, which is the biggest part of the truth. Christy's conditions to take him off the pills have been churning on his mind ever since they made the deal, and he thinks joining the Warblers might be the easiest of all the difficult options in this school. He knows how to sing, he used to enjoy it, he already knows Jeff and Nick, and it will require less from him than for instance joining the debate team, taking up sports or starting a book club.

Blaine smiles fondly at him.

"You're amazing," he gushes. "Remember I told you at Bellefontaine how strong you are, and what a fighter I see in you?"

Kurt nods, slowly.

"You still are. I know this is difficult for you, and I admire that fighting spirit. I'm proud of you, Kurt."

Kurt doesn't quite know what to say to that. The smile Blaine is giving him is almost blinding, and his words are overwhelming. Kurt doesn't understand how Blaine can see all those things in him.


That night, Blaine keeps thinking about Kurt's words, how the Warblers' impromptu performance of I Want To Break Free had made him think, had encouraged him to break free of his own constrictions, challenge himself to make progress, work on himself to be wholer, better, happier.

The irony is, Blaine is doing the same to himself. He has his issues, he has his fears and worries, and he sometimes lets them dictate him. After the dance, he's afraid of being in public places, he needs his personal space, he does everything he can to blend in and avoid pulling attention. Taking part in a student group, and especially one as popular as the Warblers, will shake up every single part of his strategy to stay safe.

But Kurt, who is still wary of his new school, who's still learning to regain his footing, who's still figuring out how to trust, is boldly and fearlessly deciding to join the Warblers.

There's an audition between Kurt and Kurt Warbler, but Blaine has heard him sing, and knows he's got this. For him, it'll merely be a formality.

The real question is: Should Blaine ask for an audition too?


Lyrics from:
Queen – I Want To Break Free