Happy Wednesday!

Thank you so much for all the amazing comments on the last chapter. I hope you're not mad at Blaine anymore.

Love, love, love for my beta Christine.

Lyrics for this chapter come from the song Honest Man (it's so good, I wanted to use this one for every chapter, but obviously... couldn't).

Oh, and there's a little Easter egg in this one. Let's see if you can find it :)

Enjoy!

'Cause I see every part of you
And I can tell you see me too
By the way that you say my name

Everything seemed to go back to normal after that night. Despite the pending conversation hanging over them, heavy and capable of changing everything, they were so happy to have each other again that they didn't make any extra effort to bring it up.

Kurt was glad they could put the embarrassment of sharing that kiss behind them, buried his broken heart deep within him and focused on everything else – rehearsals, which were getting more and more intense, and his friends.

Blaine knew he was supposed to say something, but he didn't. Not yet. He felt as if he was tilting towards something, something that was just out of reach and he couldn't see yet, and he didn't want to say the wrong thing, didn't want to risk hurting Kurt's feelings if... if... if what, he wasn't sure. He felt confused and lost, split open like a wound.

For now, he was happy, or happier than he had been recently, especially when he sat next to Kurt on the couch to flip through the channels on the television at night, or when he saw him come through the front door, tired but satisfied, or when he woke up every morning to the scent of fresh coffee and the sight of Kurt working at the stove, spatula in hand and gorgeous smile on his face.

The apartment wasn't empty and silent anymore. It was back to being a home, and neither of them wanted to give that up.

Hurrying down the last set of steps, Kurt entered the platform and looked around for a familiar face. He spotted him near the end, in the already familiar green peacoat, a totebag hanging from his arm, as he typed something on his phone. Kurt made sure the box of cupcakes he was holding was in perfect conditions before he navigated through the throng of waiting New Yorkers and towards Blaine.

Blaine looked up, a smile already pulling at his lips as his eyes found Kurt. "Hey! You made it! I was about to text you."

"Sorry, rehearsal ended a little later than planned," Kurt replied. "And I wanted to get something at this bakery near the theatre."

Blaine glanced at the box curiously. "Oh, what is it?" He leaned closer as if he could smell the treats through the cardboard, mostly only giving Kurt a chance to breathe in his raspberry gel and cologne.

"Cupcakes," he said as the train entered the station and everyone started shuffling closer to to the edge of the platform. "They make these really exquisite cupcakes with a hint of honey in the buttercream and some drips of syrup over them... they're delicious."

"Can't wait to try them, then," Blaine grinned.

They got on the train before the doors closed and found a spot where they could stand. It was really crowded though, and people seemed to keep pushing them closer and closer until Kurt was practically plastered against one of the walls, and Blaine's chest was only an inch away from his. He could feel Blaine's warm breath against his neck when he laughed or talked, and he tried to focus on keeping the cupcakes safe instead, but it was really hard.

"So what did you bring?" He asked, to try and find a distraction.

"Sloppy Joes and cole slaw," Blaine said, beaming. "Sam and I used to make them all the time when we lived together and I haven't eaten them since."

A curl had broken free from the gel on Blaine's temple and Kurt was dying to tuck it back into place. "Sounds delicious."

Blaine began telling him about one of his students of the day, a girl he was sure would be a piano prodigy one day. Kurt loved his enthusiasm as he talked, the softness of his voice, the little huffed out laughter. Blaine had always been interesting to him, from the very first moment they had met, but lately... lately he seemed so enticing that Kurt could barely bear to take his eyes off him.

The train gave a little jolt and Blaine tilted forward, grabbing onto Kurt's waist as not to fall onto the person standing next to them. Kurt also instictively reached out and wrapped his arm around his shoulders to keep him from falling. The small, almost private smile that Blaine flashed at him then threatened to turn his insides into molten lava. But Blaine simply kept on going with his story, as if nothing had happened, his hand still curled around Kurt's waist, fingers digging just a bit more firmly than necessary, so Kurt allowed himself to keep his arm around him.

He was sad when the train finally made it to Bushwick.

Everyone was already at the loft when they arrived, and the whole place smelled of food and was filled with laughter and conversation. Blaine held the box of cupcakes carefully, inspecting they hadn't gotten crushed on the train ride over, while Kurt removed his coat and scarf, and then Kurt grabbed Blaine's coat and his own and took them into Rachel's room to drop on her bed, with a whispered thank you from Blaine as he moved towards the kitchen to help with dinner.

Kurt had barely made it past the curtain that poorly acted as walls when Santana, Mercedes and Rachel cornered him.

"What's going on?" Mercedes asked in a hushed voice.

"You and Blaine seem super cozy together, did something happen?" Rachel almost squealed.

"You don't have that sweet after-sex glow, so I guess you two are still being idiots," Santana commented, earning a quick glare from Kurt.

"Can you all shut up?" He said, tugging on the curtain to make sure it was properly closed, as if that would be able to stop the sound of their voices from carrying out into the rest of the apartment. "Nothing happened. We just... made up, I guess. We're good friends. That's all that matters."

"Those sweet little touches? That's not something you do with a friend," Mercedes insisted, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow at him.

"What sweet little touches?" He asked in confusion. "Are you insane?"

"Oh please!" Santana exclaimed, and the others tried to shush her. "He brushes against you like a cat in heat."

Kurt tried not to think about the way they had held onto each other in the subway. "Don't be ridiculous. He's made it abundantly clear that he's not interested."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Mercedes said. "Kurt, there's so much chemistry between you two, it's amazing. And I think he and Sam talked about you, but he wouldn't tell me anything..."

Kurt couldn't deny that his interest had been piqued, but he tried his best to hide it, because he didn't want to have to deal with any false hopes that would get crushed more easily than a box of cupcakes on a crowded train. "Look, I appreciate that you all had my back while I was a little upset after our kiss, but honestly... Blaine and I are friends, best friends, even. That's not something either of us wants to risk, I think."

"But you like him," Rachel said, her big eyes on him, capable of reading even the best kept secret.

He let out a little sigh. "Of course I do. He's amazing."

"Then don't be so afraid to take another step that you end up losing something that could be so good for you," she said softly. "You and I both know those chances don't come around too often. Life's fleeting, Kurt. Don't waste time on being afraid."

That made all of them pause. Kurt looked at her – really looked at her in that way that spoke of too many years together, too many heartbreaks shared. She hadn't really dated since Finn – only a guy or two here and there, but none had been around long and she had never looked happy. He knew she wanted to move on, wanted to be happy, but the weight on her heart was still too great. It was still so, so heavy on Kurt's heart, too.

He grabbed her hand and pulled gently until he could press his lips to her forehead.

Before any of them could say another word, Brittany pulled the curtains open and looked at them quizzically. "What are you guys doing? Is this some sort of secret meeting? Because Santana said I wasn't allowed to join a cult."

Santana immediately wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and began explaining that this was most definitely not a cult, as the others followed them out of Rachel's room.

Rachel held on a little tighter to him for a few more seconds, and then walked away to help the boys in the kitchen.

After they finished eating, Sam said he wanted some fresh air and went out into the firescape, not without shooting a meaningful glance at Blaine first. Sighing, Blaine stood up and followed him outside.

There wasn't much room on the firescape to sit, so they stood instead facing each other. Blaine wrapped his arms around himself – it was a chilly night and he hadn't grabbed his coat – and leaned against the fragile railing, hoping it wouldn't give way and send him to his death.

"So, you look a little better," Sam commented, failing at being nonchalant. "Are you dealing with the Eli thing okay?"

"There's no Eli thing," Blaine groaned. "It wasn't even a real break up."

"But you still have to see him in class, so I guess that's no fun," Sam said.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, it kinda sucks. Not because it hurts or anything, it's just... so awkward."

"Because he's seen your booty?" Sam asked with the most childish grin known to human kind.

Blaine rolled his eyes and shoved him a little, mindful of the railing (he didn't want to kill his best friend, after all). "He's done more than simply see it."

Sam cackled so loudly everyone inside glanced at them with their eyebrows raised, as if wondering what the hell those two were getting up to. Blaine shrugged at them, and he could see Kurt bite a smile as he helped Brittany carry the desert from the kitchen.

"You and Kurt made up?" Sam asked, obviously catching the look.

"Yeah, we're fine," Blaine replied, and it felt like that word – fine – wasn't enough to describe how good everything felt when he was with Kurt, how relevant each smile, each touch, each word shared with him was...

"You two look..." Sam began to say, and then paused, as if he wasn't sure how to continue. "Blaine, there's something there..."

Blaine didn't say anything. He was still looking inside the loft, and now Kurt was laughing, the sound high and delighted, at something Brittany had just said to him, so carefree and open, happy and simple, and Blaine's heart fluttered in his chest, almost painfully so.

There was something there, he knew it. He had known it for a while now and had kept pushing it down and down and down, out of sight, out of mind, but it was beginning to reach the surface and Blaine didn't know what to do. There was something there and it scared the living shit out of him, but as long as he could keep seeing Kurt laughing just like this, happy as if there was nothing wrong with the world, he would be able to deal with it.

Sam patted his back, as if his silence spoke louder than words, before he went back inside.

On Thursday, there was an insistent, annoying little drizzle that Kurt tried to shield himself from as he rushed the last couple of blocks to the bar. He walked inside and sighed gratefully – his hair was still pristine, thank you very much – as he made his way to an empty table just to the left of the stage, where he could already see Blaine setting up his equipment for his gig.

The table was small and there was no need for a larger one this evening, since all of their friends had plans. Sam and Mercedes were celebrating some sort of anniversary, Rachel had to work late, and Brittany and Santana had travelled to Ohio for Santana's mother's birthday, and wouldn't be back until Sunday. Kurt had complained about everyone abandoning him, but he knew deep down inside that he wouldn't miss Blaine's show without a good enough reason. He actually enjoyed seeing him play, even though he could listen to him all he wanted at home. It was different here, where Blaine had an audience, something that fed his passion and energy. It was sort of mesmerizing. And he knew it made Blaine happy when his friends came to see him, so there was no way Kurt was skipping only because he didn't want to have to sit alone.

Kurt ordered a virgin Shirley Temple, as he had every Thursday since he had started rehearsals, because there was no way he was getting drunk when he needed to do an elaborate Grand Jeté early the next morning. It was too late into rehearsals to fall flat on his face. He was supposed to be getting better, not worse, and he wasn't taking any chances.

Blaine caught his eye as he accepted a beer from a waitress and placed it on the floor next to the piano. He gave him a little wave, his smile warm and his eyes sparkling, and Kurt felt himself sighing in response. Damn Blaine Anderson for being so damn cute.

Kurt sipped on his drink and texted with Carole for a moment, who had a bit of a fashion emergency. He helped her pick a dress for her dinner out with his dad, shaking his head fondly at how much effort she still put into looking a bit better even though they would probably end up at Breadstix for the millionth time. But it was a long way from acid-wash denim, so he was glad to help her out.

The bar was suddenly filled with some random chords as Blaine settled at the piano and smiled at his audience. "Hi guys. I'm Blaine, and I'm going to play for you tonight," he said, before he launched into a cover of an Ed Sheeran song.

Kurt nodded along to the music as he continued to sip his drink, ordering another after the third or fourth song. He clapped for Blaine enthusiastically after each one, earning a wink or two from him, and enjoying the way he blushed and looked down at the keyboard when the audience was particularly loud in its appreciation for him.

He began to hum along to the next song – a stripped down, piano version of Something Coming from West Side Story that Kurt had heard him play at home and absolutely loved – when a guy stopped by his table. Kurt looked up at him curiously. He had green eyes and a cute smile, his brown hair tousled out of his face as if carelessly.

"Hi," he said, his voice a little shy. "I'm Luke. I don't really do this often but... well, my friends were giving me a hard time so I thought I'd give it a shot." He took a deep breath. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Oh," Kurt said a little breathlessly. "That's really sweet of you, but I just got a refill, so I think I'm fine."

"Okay," Luke murmured, without really losing his smile. He reached for a napkin and took a sharpie out of his back pocket. "Well, if you change your mind or if you want to maybe get a coffee or go out for dinner... here's my number. You are... well. You have to be one of the most beautiful guys I've ever seen. I would hate myself if I didn't at least try to talk to you."

Kurt smiled back at him, honestly pleased. "Again, you're really sweet. My name's Kurt."

Luke shook his hand a little longer than necessary. "It's so nice to meet you, Kurt. I hope you use that," he said, with a little nod towards the napkin, and then walked away towards a table near the back.

Kurt stared at the digits for a little while, then folded the napkin and slipped it into his bag, just as Blaine's song came to an end.

Blaine's fingers faltered on the keys, his voice wavered slightly, but he recovered quick enough, he thought. No one had noticed, he promised himself, as he glanced around the bar swiftly, and then back to the one table his eyes had been drawn to all night.

He struggled to remember the lyrics, where he had to place his fingers next. He was lucky his body seemed so in tune with the piano at this point, it directed his hands without him having to actively think about it. He closed his eyes for a moment, the lyrics just there on the tip of his tongue. This song was so familiar. He was not supposed to forget.

The tall, attractive stranger that had been talking to Kurt, so clearly flirting, turned around and walked away.

There was a knot in Blaine's stomach. It was making it really hard for him to control his breathing, to keep singing.

Kurt lifted the napkin where the man had written down, presumably, his phone number. Blaine watched him study it for a moment and Blaine's head filled with the same thought, over and over again: throw it away, throw it away, throw it away...

Kurt put it in his bag.

Blaine finished the song, forced a smile on his face, leaned into the microphone. "Thank you, everyone. My next song is a little less show tune and a little more pop," he said, always the showman, always with perfect poise, because he couldn't let anyone see how he was crumbling down inside.

He began to play the next song – a Jonas Brothers cover that he had been working on for a while now, that he had been so excited to finally play now, to see people's reaction when they recognized his mellow version, but now... now he couldn't remember what he had been so excited about.

Maybe it had been the way Kurt had burst into laughter when he figured it out, how he had turned on the couch to look at Blaine as he played it, a huge smile on his lips. Maybe it had been the way Kurt had teased him, called him ridiculous and sappy, before he walked into the kitchen to get started on dinner. Maybe it had been the way Blaine felt so, so at home when he was with him.

Kurt smiled now, too, and Blaine wondered if he was remembering that night at their apartment or if he was smiling because of the stranger and his number carefully tucked into his bag, like a precious gift he wanted to keep safe.

He played a few more songs, smiling after each round of applause though it felt painful to do so. He joked around with the audience, tried to be as charming as he could, but he felt off. He just wanted tonight to end, wanted the spotlight to stop focusing on him, too afraid its brightness would reveal all the ugliness, all the doubt and all the fear he held inside.

He finished off his beer, which was warm and disgusting by now, before he got off the stage. Kurt was waiting for him at his table, so Blaine approached it and sat down on an empty chair across from him.

"You were wonderful, Blaine," Kurt said warmly, still smiling, though it seemed a bit uncertain now. "Are you okay? You look a little... off, I guess. Do you feel alright?"

"Just tired," Blaine replied. "Thank you for coming, Kurt. You didn't have to, since everyone else was busy..."

"You know I wouldn't miss it for the world," Kurt reassured him, and began to gather his stuff. "Come on, let's go home so you can get some rest."

As they walked towards the exit, he saw the stranger sitting at a table in the back, his eyes fixed on Kurt as they left, and Blaine had to resist the urge to press a hand to the small of Kurt's back to guide him and, at the same time, to make sure the other guy noticed. He could have punched himself – I do not own him. He can flirt with whoever he wants. We're just friends.

For the first time, that word sat heavily within him, insufficient.

The weather outside was a stark contrast from the warm, almost suffocating inside of the bar. It had stopped raining but there was a cold humidity hanging in the air like a mist. They began walking home – it would be too much of a hassle to hail a cab for just a few blocks – and Blaine was quiet, uncharacteristically so and he knew it. He was usually so chatty after performing, still happy and energized from it all. But he didn't feel like that tonight, not at all.

He looked down at Kurt's hand, swaying gently beside him as he walked. Blaine felt the aching need to reach for it and grab it, hold it as tightly as he could, make sure he never had to let go...

"Blaine," Kurt murmured, breaking the silence that had settled over them. Blaine glanced up and found his blue eyes fixed on him. "Are you sure everything's fine and you're just tired?"

How could Blaine explain that seeing a man giving Kurt his number had turned sour every moment of joy he had felt as he played? How could Blaine summarize what his heart and his head couldn't yet agree on, what they had been fighting about for a few days now? How could Blaine find words to describe that with Kurt he felt complete and happy in a way that terrified him?

"Kurt..." Blaine whispered, because that seemed to be the only word in his vocabulary that made any kind of sense.

He stopped abruptly, not caring where he was, because he couldn't take another step unless he was holding Kurt's hand, and he couldn't breathe unless he was looking into Kurt's blue eyes, and he couldn't think unless they were together, and even then, even then everything was confusing.

But the reason was right there, just close enough for him to grasp it, and he didn't dare to.

There was so much he could lose...

"Blaine," Kurt said again, his voice soft, a little worried, as he tilted his head to regard him when Blaine turned to face him.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him again, kiss him in a way he wouldn't forget in the morning or in any morning that would come after that.

I want everything with you.

Blaine's heart skipped a beat and then another. Love had always seemed such a foreign thing...

"Blaine, we can't stay here," Kurt said, now with a bit of a nervous laugh, but there was worry underneath. "We should..."

"Kurt," Blaine repeated, his voice cracking on the one word, the most important he had now. His hand moved forward, just a few inches, just enough to brush the tips of Kurt's fingers.

It could be the first step, if he grabbed it. And if Kurt held his hand in return, there could be so many more steps ahead...

But what if Blaine ruined everything? What if he was just a fool for thinking there could be more? What if he gave in only to see Kurt walk away when it was the only choice left?

And as he asked himself these questions, almost shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation, of hope and despair, he stood in the middle of a New York City street, oblivious to his surroundings, oblivious to anything that wasn't Kurt's eyes, and didn't see the yellow taxi that turned the corner and headed straight towards them.

At least Blaine seems to be figuring things out? Yay?

… I'm going to very slowly back away now.

SEE YOU ON SATURDAY, BYE.

Love,

L.-