A/N: Flangst ahoy, dear readers! This chapter comes with links for added viewing pleasure: If you want some extra spice in your sauce, direct yourself to .com/watch?v=rmkNBKu2fr0 for the song sung in the first part of this chapter (or, if you're one of those people who dislike genderbending voices in your mind, here at .com/watch?v=oy69cf0uda0 is the same song sung by two guys–although I think the former is the better version and is what I based the scene on). If you don't know the song at the end of the chapter, feel free to visit .com/watch?v=9-8gn6vGu_w. Enjoy!
Blaine was looking at the piano like it was his long lost grandmother back from the dead. He had opened the top the minute he'd walked into the room, poring over the little strings and mallets inside for long, awe-filled minutes before closing it and stroking over the sides, the crown, the lid… Kurt was pretty sure he'd lost a few years of his life from the awful frustration of watching Blaine worship the instrument in front of him.
"Do you play?" he finally found the voice to ask—redundantly, he felt, seeing as how Blaine had already opened the lid and begun caressing the keys (and really, if he continued this any further, Kurt honestly couldn't be held accountable for the things he might do to him).
"I used to," Blaine replied, voice eons away. His eyes embraced the instrument tenderly, like a long-lost lover. "A long time ago." The words floated on the air like vapors and Kurt had to literally restrain himself against the opposite side of the piano in order to stop himself from kissing him.
This boy.
Seriously.
"I've taken lessons for years," Kurt admitted, leaning against the glossy wood. "I wouldn't say I'm that amazing at it, though."
"Do you have a favorite song?" Blaine asked, an endearing excitement animating his features. Bubbles foamed up Kurt's lungs, inflating him with contentment. Blaine grinned back at him and Kurt realized the tickling feeling in his lips was a smile.
"Well…" Kurt began, fighting the blush threatening to stain his cheeks. "There's… there's this one song I've been dying to sing with someone, but…"
"What is it?" Blaine asked immediately, settling himself down on the bench and setting his hands on the keys. Kurt allowed himself a moment of hesitation before plunging his hand into his bag and coming up with his music folder.
"This," he said, handing the sheet music over. His limbs hummed with excitement as Blaine set it down on the stand, scrutinizing a few pages. Blaine let out a quiet laugh.
"This might be a little too difficult to sight-read," he began apologetically, "I haven't played in years." He spread the sheets out, thumbing through to the end. Kurt collapsed a little, dispirited. Then:
"You could play one hand, and I'll play the other?" Blaine looked over hopefully.
Kurt inflated like a balloon. "Yes!" he said, jumping up and clapping his hand together. "Yes, let's do that! You'll sing it with me?" Blaine nodded, hastily moving over and patting the bench beside him, where Kurt happily came to sit. They were a little closer than they needed to be, but Kurt didn't mind—he certainly had no intention of moving, and Blaine looked pretty comfortable where he was.
"Let's try the first page just to get the hang of it," Blaine enthused, placing his hand on the keys. Kurt did the same.
They had to restart a few times to get the rhythm of it, and there were a few clumsy tangling of fingers and even more nervous giggles. But it was the easy action of playing a song together that really mattered to Kurt: the press of their sides together; the light brush of fingers as their parts overlapped; the quiet nod Blaine gave to Kurt as the first verse began.
Kurt took a breath, and, self-conscious, loosed his voice out into the room.
"Let me run through a field in the night
Let me lift from the ground til my soul is in flight."
"Let me sway like the shade of a tree," Blaine sang tentatively, voice small and timid. "Let me swirl like a cloud in a storm on the sea.
Wish me on my way."
"Through the dawning day, I…"
"Wanna flow, wanna rise, wanna spill.
Wanna grow in a grove on the side of a hill."
Their voices together sounded even better than Kurt had imagined they would, if a little too quiet for him to really let loose. They still stumbled on the piano part—nowhere near flawless—but Blaine wasn't kidding when he said he could play. He was incredibly good at sight-reading, barely missing a note, and Kurt wondered, in a distant part of his mind, what it would have been like if Blaine had always been here in the choir room with him—beside him just like this, building this tentative, half-corporeal almost-something. Kurt would've had someone to duet with a few weeks ago. Someone to sing songs to—who might have made him feel like more than just the left-over gay kid.
Letting all of his self-consciousness dissolve, Kurt let himself loose—purging his frustrations and his fear and his fervent wish to just be somewhere else—everything, in song.
"Let me leave behind
All the clouds in my mind I
Wanna wake without wondering why
Finding myself in a burst for the sky!"
And somewhere along an extended note, something clicked—and suddenly the music was flowing between them without pause or stagger, and Blaine was singing with him unhesitating and powerful, matching his voice with every crescendo and decrescendo, every change in intensity, every beautiful harmony—soaring with his over increasingly more sure chords, their hands pounding passion into the keys, the music painting the air around them in broad, lush, electrifying strokes.
"Let me run through a field in the night,
Let me lift from the ground til my soul is in flight!
Let me sway like the shade of a tree,
Let me swirl like a cloud in a storm on the sea!"
"Wish me on my way…" Kurt didn't even have to force himself to look at the sheet music (wish me on my way, he sang). There was something magnetic about the boy beside him—something uninhibited and passionate and—"Through the dawning day…"
"I…"
But they didn't have to look at each other. Whatever it was—magic, perception, something in the music—it flowed between them. In the brush of their fingers…
"Wanna flow, wanna rise, wanna spill…"
In the warmth of the press of their arms…
"Wanna grow on the side of a hill…."
In the rhythm of their playing… In the cadence of their voices…
"Wanna shift like a wave rolling on."
"Wanna drift from the path
I've been traveling upon…"
Blaine's hands slowed, then stopped. Kurt followed, his own fingers suddenly shy of the keys in front of them. In the quiet of the room, without the music, their voices resonated soft and nearly shattered:
"Before I am… gone…"
The room was spun-glass. Fragile.
They sat covering themselves in the feathered down of silence in fear of breaking it.
"You have a…" Blaine's voice dusted the air, "a really beautiful voice."
Kurt couldn't catch his breath. "Thank you," he exhaled. "You're not so bad yourself."
He turned to look at him, finally, and saw that Blaine's face was painted with a subtle, velvet smile. "I haven't done that in so long," he murmured down at the piano, eyes glossed wistful with nostalgia. "That was amazing."
There was a beat of stillness, and then Blaine glanced up at Kurt with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"How long until your singing club starts?" he asked. Kurt felt like the cat that had just been offered extra cream.
"Another hour or so yet," he said, barely restraining his anticipation.
Blaine grinned and they both reached for the music folder at the same time, Blaine laughing loudly in victory as he grabbed it first, holding it above his head in a ridiculously poor attempt to keep it away from Kurt (who was not only taller than him but also significantly close enough to render a move like that pathetically useless). Kurt snatched it back without a problem and immediately started rifling through the sheet music inside, pretending the warm glow spreading down his chest from his cheeks wasn't because of the proximity of their bodies as Blaine leaned over him to point out songs he knew.
What proceeded, Kurt was positive, could have been a deleted scene from Music and Lyrics (Kurt was a slightly less obnoxious and more stylish Drew Barrymore). They sang for hours—sometimes fun and flirty duets, sometimes just Kurt, with Blaine on the piano, eyes more intent on the boy singing to him than the music in front of his fingers. Kurt would have offered to play, but Blaine was so ecstatic handling the instrument in front of him that Kurt was loathe to take the experience away from him. Blaine grew bolder and more vibrant with each song, and Kurt matched him, then outmatched him, then found himself being matched again and it was like they were daring each other to be louder, be fuller, be more exuberant than the other. At some point, accompaniment became extraneous, and they darted around the room, climbing furniture and teasing each other, and Kurt had never felt more childlike in his life. Blaine's eyes were shining with an unrestrained joy that quickened Kurt's heart and flushed through his veins and Kurt wondered if this wasn't a kind of magic after all.
It was quickly becoming one of the best afternoons of Kurt's life—second only to the first time his dad had sat down to pretend-tea with him after his mother died, and a vague memory of seeing The Sound of Music at the local community theater much earlier than that.
They had just finished the most sexually-provoking version of Baby It's Cold Outside Kurt had ever participated in (give Blaine a Gaga classic and he was hopeless, but suggest an Irving Berlin or a Cole Porter and suddenly he not only knew all the words, but executed them in impeccable style), having collapsed laughing against the piano bench and proceeding to pretend nothing else existed outside of their softened gazes and the rise and fall of their chests—when Rachel Berry's applause tore through their fabricated fantasy world like a chainsaw.
Kurt jumped and went to move away, but Blaine's steady hand on the small of his back kept him still.
Right. Other people existed outside of the choir room, Kurt Hummel.
And inside, clearly.
"That was simply lovely!" Rachel proclaimed, skipping into the room in a truly hideous frock and navy knee-highs. Kurt wondered how many people she'd had to kill in order to walk out of the house looking like that. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I just had to get that out. I'm Rachel Berry."
Blaine shot a lightning-quick but knowing glance to Kurt (Kurt's selective memory suddenly decided to remind him of the many, many times he'd come home during the past week to rant at Blaine about the New Directions and their insanity, and he had to swallow an incredibly inappropriate giggle.) He moved his hand from Kurt's back to offer it to Rachel, "Blaine. I've heard a lot about you, Rachel."
They clasped hands.
And Blaine's gaze suddenly sharpened, and he promptly forgot about Kurt's entire existence.
…Huzzah.
Rachel continued speaking as if she didn't realize she was slowly tearing down all of the progress Kurt had made with Blaine in the last two hours (flirty duets! What happened to the flirty duets!).
"All about my superior vocal prowess, no doubt," she stated in a way that really allowed for no argument (despite Kurt's urge to start one). "Mercedes and Tina have told me all about what little they know of you, of course—not like Kurt's going to tell us anything, he's been so secretive—it's really a pleasure to meet you! You have a lovely voice."
"Thank you! I haven't sung in a while; I was just getting back into the swing of it with Kurt."
"Well, you certainly fooled me! You and Kurt sounded wonderful together—it's been a while since we've heard him sing a song like that in glee club. Maybe you can get him to give me some real competition again this week!"
Rachel was talking in that slightly condescending way she did when she was impressed with someone, as if she was astonished anyone could sing besides her. Blaine was grinning in that surprised way he did when he was charmed by someone, as if he didn't expect himself to be quite as taken with a person as he was.
Kurt was staring in that wide-eyed way he did when his ultimate enemy and the love of his life looked like they were about to fall in love with each other, as if by staring he could prevent such a tragedy from occurring.
It didn't work.
"Are you thinking of joining glee club?" Rachel asked, arranging herself next to Blaine on the piano bench. Blaine's hand moved stubbornly to her arm, eyes tracking her as she sat down. In fact, he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her. Kurt's jaw clenched tightly shut and his gaze was toxic as he wondered what the hell could be so interesting about whatever Blaine was feeling from Rachel Berry that made her so impossibly hard to look away from. (He's gay, he's gay, he's gay, he's gay, he's gay, he's gay, he's gay)
"…ust here to visit," Blaine was demurring (and still looking at her, and that stupid hand was still on her stupid arm).
"Well, you really should consider it. Your warm tenor is really just a thrill to listen to." Rachel smiled sweetly.
"That's very kind of you to say."
"I'm just being honest," Rachel shifted closer to Blaine (as if she wasn't close enough already). She could probably catch fruit flies with that smile. "We could use a voice like yours. And you're very charming; you wouldn't need any help winning the judges over." Blaine was blushing, smiling that adorably shy smile,and honestly, Kurt could come up with less generic compliments in his sleep.
"That's—that's very kind, thank you."
"With your old-school allure and my undeniable talent, I can't imagine we wouldn't win at Regionals, and your stature is perfect: you won't tower over me like some of the other members, but you'll still—"
"He's not interested," Kurt interrupted from his seat bluntly. Rachel blinked rapidly in astonishment, and he leaned over and smiled sweetly, wiggling his fingers to wave at the both of them. Just in case they had maybe forgotten he was there. Still. Sitting right next to them. He almost missed it when Blaine's lips pressed together to suppress the laughter that silently shook his shoulders.
Almost. But he didn't.
He also didn't miss it when Blaine decided to assure him of his continued awareness of Kurt's presence by bouncing the foot of his crossed leg against Kurt's own as he continued his conversation with Rachel.
Nope. Didn't miss that.
"How long have you been friends with Kurt?" he asked kindly. Kurt breathed in deeply to give his heart more room in his chest, as it seemed to have swollen a little within the past two seconds.
"Well, we've known each other since middle school…"
And so on they carried, Rachel talking and Blaine listening (and watching), but never stopping the playful toy of his foot against Kurt's, apparently intent on giving him a heart attack before the end of the day.
They were going to have to have a talk about the flirting. Like, they really, really needed to have a talk about the flirting because this had to be classified as sending mixed signals and god, he didn't know his heart could beat any faster.
(Especially the flirting in regards to whatever the hell was going on with Rachel Berry because Kurt would like to know, please.)
"Is that who I think it is?" someone suddenly cried from the door. Blaine's head snapped around in surprise as Tina and Mercedes ran over. "Blaine, right?"
And then there were five, and Kurt wondered if maybe this was too much as Tina and Mercedes introduced themselves and sent pointed looks in Kurt's direction and proceeded to have emotions like normal human beings (Mercedes caught sight of their toying feet and sent him a significant glance that ended up turning into a whole conversation of glances, only ending with an emphatic shake of the head from Kurt). Somehow, Rachel got them conspiring to try to convince Blaine to be an honorary member of the glee club (Kurt had no idea why she was so intent on it, but she kept gesturing to Kurt with her eyes whenever she mentioned it, and really, cryptic planning was just not her forte). Meanwhile, Blaine was looking a little confused, but also a lot amused, and so Kurt assumed the girls' craziness was manageable.
That was when the chaos started.
"Hey, I thought you didn't want him to come today?" Finn asked, a grin spreading across his face as he entered the room. He moved to clap Blaine on the back, seemingly not noticing Rachel until she placed her hand a little possessively over Blaine's and cleared her throat (and Kurt didn't know when Blaine suddenly became the main objective of a territory war, but once Rachel started, it was like a battle cry in a game of I-knew-him-first. Mercedes and Tina kept touching him in tiny moments of ownership, and Finn took everything personally and kept a protective hand on Blaine's shoulder while he gave Rachel a hard look).
"You didn't want him to come?" Tina cried out, scandalized. "What?" She grabbed Blaine's knee from where she was kneeling in protest and Finn patted Blaine's shoulder in what was probably supposed to be a show of support.
"I changed my mind," Kurt said distantly, a little preoccupied with the faraway look creeping into Blaine's eyes.
"Coma-dude!" ("Blaine," Finn corrected) Puck came bounding in, punching him in the arm. "Long time no see! Last night was awesome, man!"
"Who's the pygmy?" Santana sauntered over, attempting to link arms with Finn (and failing).
"He's not that short," Rachel protested.
"Oh please, Dorothy. He's like a member of the Lollipop Guild. Look at that hair!"
"So his hair is a little over-stylized. Do you always have to bring everyone else down all the time?"
"Yes."
"I didn't know Hummel got himself a boyfriend!"
Blaine's expression hadn't changed from friendly grin™, but his foot had stopped bouncing against Kurt's and the hand that wasn't trapped in Rachel's grip was slowly creeping up around his stomach. As if that wasn't enough of a flashing warning sign, the vacancy in his eyes was a pretty clear signal to Kurt that Blaine was no longer in the building.
"—that they're boyfriends, Lauren—"
"Oh, get off your high horse, Berry, it was a joke."
"Obviously. Can you seriously see Hummel getting a piece of that?"
"Are you for real? You were just making fun of his height two seconds ago!"
Kurt's mind was racing. Was this what Blaine meant when he said he got overwhelmed–was this overwhelmed? Should Kurt step in? Or did Blaine have a handle on it, would he just perform another invisible mental technique and be fine in a few minutes? What was he supposed to do? Should Kurt take him out of the choir room? What was he supposed to do?
"So he's small; doesn't mean he don't got a big—"
"Dude, he's like right here."
"Are we at a zoo?" he finally exclaimed. "Seriously? Visiting hours are over for the day." A few people broke off their arguments and glanced at him strangely, and he proceeded to make little shooing motions with his hands. "Go on! The bearded lady is in the other room."
"I think you're mixing your metaphors," Sam pointed out (and when did he get here, anyway?).
"Don't worry, I'm sure someone's feeding her," Brittany told him, nodding in reassurance. Kurt's eyes turned to the ceiling for guidance.
"Hey guys!" Mr. Schuester entered into the room and things seemed to finally have an order again.
Everyone turned to him, the chatter dying down.
"What are we all doing standing around?" Mr. Schue asked. "Take your seats, we're presenting our songs today!"
And finally, finally, everyone moved away, letting go of Blaine and filing into their seats.
(Kurt thanked the ceiling.)
Under cover of their chatter, he leaned close to the still-stunned boy next to him.
"Are you all right?" he murmured. Blaine, thankfully, seemed to be back behind the wheel again. He nodded quickly, breathing in like he had spent the last few minutes underwater.
"Bit of a surprise attack," he told Kurt, looking a little spooked. "F-forgot what those felt like. You weren't kidding when you said your friends were intense."
"Kurt?" Schue interrupted them, looking curiously between the two. "Did you want to go first? Who's your friend?"
"That's Blaine," Finn provided helpfully from his seat.
…And then remained silent, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.
Kurt shook his head in disbelief, questioning his faith in humanity.
"Blaine's living with us for a while," Kurt began. Someone whistled—probably Santana—but Kurt ignored it and continued: "He wanted to come watch glee club, since I talk about it so much. If that's okay?"
"Blaine's cool, Mr. Schue," Puck added. "He's totally not a spy."
Schue blinked and looked towards Blaine, who was currently doing his best impression of an abandoned puppy. He shrugged. "I don't see why he can't stay," he said. Kurt's eyes closed briefly in victory and he grabbed Blaine's hand, leading him over to the least populated seating area. A flash of hurt passed across Mercedes' face as they sat down, and Kurt sent her an apologetic glance. They really would have to hang out soon.
"Mr. Schue, if I may?" Rachel's hand shot into the air. Schue nodded to her. "If Kurt doesn't mind, I have the perfect song to start off today."
"Kurt?" Mr. Schue looked at him.
Kurt gracefully shrugged and gestured to the floor, intending to indicate it was all hers.
"Go ahead, Rachel." Mr. Schue moved to sit in a vacant chair next to Finn. She jumped up excitedly and moved to the piano, where Brad had settled himself quietly when no one was looking.
Blaine placed a warm hand on his knee and leaned in close. Kurt had to force himself to breathe.
"Are you friends with Rachel?" he asked as the girl in question headed up to the center of the room. Kurt raised an eyebrow as Rachel began singing.
"'Friends' is a very broad term," he hedged, wondering where this was going.
"You don't like her?" Blaine sounded confused. (But Blaine was practically glued to her five minutes ago, so that wasn't really a surprise)
"She's the Elphaba to my Glinda," Kurt explained shortly. "Pre-Ozdust Ballroom." They watched as Rachel started singing about people needing people being lucky, somehow both emulating and copying Barbra's singular performance. "The air vibrates with large orchestral chords of doom whenever she enters a room."
Blaine huffed a short, silent laugh, turning to hide his face briefly in the shoulder of Kurt's turtleneck in order to avoid interrupting the performance. Tingles raced up Kurt's spine and prickled his arms.
"Why do you ask?" he whispered, trying to ignore the clash of foreboding and lightness warring inside his chest. "What did you feel from her?"
Blaine shook his head, eyes glued on the girl in front of them.
"She really cares about you," he said. "She's very sweet."
Kurt felt a pang of jealousy hit his gut, in the soured place that kept a tally of every time Rachel had won something over him, or at his expense, and the foreboding won out.
"Is she?" he muttered viciously. "She must be hiding it under the thick layer of obnoxious she assaults everyone with. Is that why you couldn't take your eyes off her?"
Blaine stayed quiet, watching Rachel as she belted out those final powerhouse notes.
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half, now you're whole…
"…She's lonely," he said quietly, compassion and a strange kind of longing etched into his features. "Very much so."
Kurt watched him watching her, feeling hot and angry and confused. He turned away, crossing his arms to stop himself from strangling something. How could Blaine be so flirty and touchy with him, insisting on staying close and holding hands and sending him those looks (and no, Kurt hasn't been completely oblivious, thank you, he's noticed those today), and then turn around and look at Rachel like—like that? Was he missing something?
But first be a person who needs people…
Kurt blinked as Blaine's hand untangled his arm from its rigid pretzel and wove into his fingers, squeezing tightly. He moved to pull away—because he really didn't need any more confusing signals today, his wires were already frayed—when Blaine's grip tightened. Kurt turned to look at him in surprise, but Blaine was still looking at Rachel. That weird echo of longing still—just like with the piano, earlier, like when he'd first met Kurt's dad, like…
Kurt felt something in him uncoil and, at the same time, something begin to swell up inside his throat. He tightened his hand around Blaine's. This wasn't about assuring Kurt of anything. This wasn't about Rachel. This was about Blaine, needing support, because she must be reminding him of someone or something that…
This wasn't about Rachel at all.
Kurt's chest was waterlogged with embarrassment and guilt. This was what happened when he assumed everything was about him: the people he loved would be hurting, and he wouldn't even realize because he was so busy defending himself that by the time he finally woke up, they'd be in the hospital having a heart attack.
Kurt closed his eyes and swallowed thickly as the liquid in his chest sloshed up into his throat.
Rachel finished the song, and bowed—and when Blaine extricated his hand to clap loudly, cheering encouragements that made Rachel's grin light up the room… Kurt stood up and clapped louder.