5.06 reaction fic. A follow-up to Blaine’s conversation with Kurt about his fears over getting into NYADA. Spoiler for the end of West Side Story. Thank you nachochang for the beta and the silly title brainstorming! PG, 1,000 words.
Night is so different here from what it is in Lima: brighter and more alive. Light from the pale streetlights and the red “Automat” sign on top of the building across the way filter through the curtains and onto Kurt’s bed and onto their bodies. Blaine looks down at his own arm, watches the light shift over his skin, making it glow soft whites and oranges like a hearth fire.
It’s not just the lights and sounds of the city that make it more vibrant, of course. Lima has felt this way sometimes, too, when Blaine’s been wrapped in Kurt’s arms the way he is now: skin against skin, warmth stoking warmth. Blaine is home now.
He pulls Kurt’s hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Kurt stirs. He wasn’t asleep – Blaine could tell from his breathing – but he was drifting somewhere near it. Maybe Blaine should feel guilty for disturbing him – but no, Blaine can feel a smile against his skin as Kurt nuzzles his nose into the back of Blaine’s neck.
“What was that for?” Kurt says, hushed and not quite sleepy, but something close to sleepy that feels both ethereal and permanent.
“For everything,” Blaine says. He turns onto his other side so he can see Kurt’s face.
“OK,” Kurt says, his tone half-question. He’s still smiling, and the light from outside glints in his eyes. Blaine can’t make out their color, but he can tell that Kurt’s eyes are on him.
“For seeing inside of me,” Blaine says. “For helping me to see my own heart.”
Kurt leans forward and kisses him on the nose. His eyes are so close to Blaine’s forehead he feels Kurt’s lashes bat against his skin. “Is this about the talk we had today? About your NYADA audition?”
Blaine nods. “I’m still scared.”
“I know,” Kurt whispers reassuringly. It’s the kind of voice that parents use to soothe their kids to sleep after nightmares. Kurt’s going to be such a good dad. An ember glows in Blaine’s chest.
“How did you know? I mean, that I was just scared?”
Kurt’s smile fades. It’s still there, but there’s a sudden sadness to it, a wry quality it lacked a moment before. He reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind Blaine’s ear. “I’ve known you for a while. And I know how much it scares you to really want something. So you pretend not to want it. But that never works out too well for you.”
The memories that flash into Blaine’s consciousness are more visceral than visual: the unforgiving twist in his gut that afternoon last fall, moving against an unfamiliar body in an unfamiliar bed, his heart beating out Kurt, Kurt, Kurt in a desperate plea; the cotton-wool fog in his brain last spring every time Kurt mentioned New York, as Blaine tried to turn himself into a self-sustaining island that needed no one and nothing; the odd pull in his chest that Saturday two years ago at The Gap, telling him to turn around – You’re singing the wrong song to the wrong guy. Open your eyes. – and the fierce burn of pride when he resisted it.
“Or for you, either,” Blaine whispers.
The pillow rustles as Kurt shakes his head against it. “It’s not just in our relationship, though. I’ve seen it with Cooper, too. It’s easier for you to act like you don’t care about him so you can’t feel how much his being gone has hurt you. And last year when we tried out for West Side Story – you really wanted Tony but you were afraid something bad would happen between us if you got it. And I think … I think you were also afraid you couldn’t be as good as you wanted to be in the part. So you pretended not to want it.”
Blaine chuckles wryly and buries his face in the pillow. “I was terrified I’d bomb the whole thing. I’m still not completely convinced I didn’t.”
Kurt nudges Blaine’s chin. “You definitely didn’t bomb. You know how my dad says even Coach Sylvester pulled out a Kleenex when your Tony died. That takes chops, kid.”
“I love you.” Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s back and holds him tight, drapes a leg around Kurt’s legs and pulls him even closer. The rise and fall of Kurt’s chest against his, the steady rhythm of breathing together – it’s so good to be able to have this again. “And I’m so sorry for all the damage I’ve done to us just because I was scared that you couldn’t possibly love me back the same way.”
“I know.” Kurt soothes a hand along Blaine’s spine. “But I’m not flawless, either.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Blaine says, a teasing half-smile curling the edge of his lips. “I’ve been to Florence and even Michelangelo’s David is garbage compared to you.”
“Oh, shut up.” Kurt buries his face into Blaine’s neck; Blaine can feel the flushed burn of Kurt’s cheeks against his skin.
Kurt tilts his head back and presses a laughing kiss to Blaine’s lips. “Fine. I’ll concede that my skin, at least, is flawless. But I am not.” His tone goes suddenly solemn. “We’re both still growing up. We’re going to keep making mistakes along the way. And there’s no one I’d rather make my mistakes with than with you.”
“I hope I learn to make fewer mistakes with you.”
“Well, that too. But we’ll still make them sometimes, and it will be okay. We’ll catch each other when we fall.”
Warmth expands in Blaine’s chest. “I love you so much.”
Kurt sighs and pulls Blaine more snugly against the curves of his body. “I love you more than you can imagine. And it scares me too sometimes. It’s a lot, to love one person this much.”
“It is,” Blaine whispers. “But it’s a fear I’d rather face with you than without you.”