It was like a weird moralist tale where a fairy had come and granted him all his wishes, only for them to come true in the worst ways.
His father had remarried, had found someone he really loved and that Kurt liked a lot too. Only Carole wasn't his mom and he felt conflicted about liking her as much as he did and he knew she was trying to respect that and not push his boundaries and it really just made him feel like he had more emotional labour instead of having someone to help him through all that teenage angst he was feeling.
He had a sibling, like he'd always wanted, and his father liked him more than he liked Kurt. Of course he did, Finn was perfect, manly and loved sports, tall and all the girls swooned over him and he had that slight tinge of homophobia that was not enough to call him out on it but that ensured a distance between them and that Kurt could never let his guard down in his own home any more.
He was in New York, where he'd dreamt he'd end up one day, only he was still owed a growth spurt, he had no friends, he was stuck in high school surrounded with people just as bigoted and small-minded as they had been back in Ohio. Only it was worse somehow because there was no one there he knew, no one he could trust.
He had come out to his father and he had accepted it, only he was uneasy about Kurt being out and proud because he worried. And he knew that he was still hoping that Kurt would realise it was just a phase and boobs were great, actually.
Kurt was in New York, surrounded by people. Their place was significantly smaller and he shared his smaller room with Finn. He was literally never by himself any more. Yet he felt utterly alone and completely lost.
He had nowhere to go right now, really. He wasn't even sure where precisely he was at the moment, but he didn't want to go home. He didn't want to lie to Carole about how his day had been yet. He felt so drained. So he had been wandering through the streets, eventually pausing by a few stairs when he noticed people around him getting excited. What was going on, should he be worried? He looked around uncertainly, while everyone else seemed to know what was happening.
Blaine accidentally bumped into someone as he hurried down the stairs. He did a lot of PR for his busking. Very 'cops hate it so you should like it' sort of thing. He put up flyers with times and places and he played. Sometimes a lot of people came, sometimes a handful. It depended on word of mouth, time of day and the weather. Today was cold, it was always cold lately, but the sun was out and people seemed more energised.
Blaine caught himself against Kurt and turned around, smiling at him. He had his guitar slung over his shoulder and he was looking at Kurt with bright, excited eyes. "Oh man, I'm so sorry. Did you come for the show? Cause I heard, it's going to be a really good one. You wanna watch?"
Well, a cute boy was there and he never could help himself. Flirting was too easy and too fun sometimes.
"Wh- What show?" Never in his life had Kurt struggled with proper diction, at least not since he had learned to speak, yet here he was now, stuttering. Because there was the most beautiful boy in the world, with artfully tousled hair that hang into his face in that certain way, with a smile that was making him weak in the knees and then there were the eyebrows, the eyes - damn, those eyes - and he had a guitar.
How was that fair? It felt like a dream. No wonder he could barely remember how to string sentences together. "I can watch."
If this boy was going, he was ready to go watch paint dry. Or football, same difference.
"Okay then come on!" Blaine took Kurt's hand and pulled him along, heading to the crowd and pushing them through the people so Kurt was right in front. Blaine then let go of Kurt's hand so he could drift into the middle of the group, immediately pulling his guitar around and strumming some notes. "Okay, okay! Ladies and gentlemen - I'm Blaine Warbler and I love NYC!"
There was a cheer and Blaine didn't waste any time launching into a fun little Katy Perry number. He had dropped a hat onto the floor to collect money and people were tossing coins as he walked up to different girls (and boys), serenading them with the beautiful lyrics of Teenage Dream.
Though he didn't linger on anyone long. Well, no one but Kurt. He just kept coming back to look at Kurt. He only looked away as he finished the song. "We're here, we're queer and we're not going to stay silent."
Judging by the noise, Blaine knew his audience well. Of course, Axel had helped distribute his flyers. Now he had the crowds attention and, of course, limited time before the cops broke it up, he took advantage and started another song.
A cover of something his brother wrote - Girls / Girls / Boys. Only he was not undressing for it. For multiple, many reasons.
All right. So this really was a teenage dream. The only thing that kept Kurt from entirely getting lost in the fantasy was just how on the nose the whole thing was. He almost felt as if there was a camera focused on him because of how targeted this was, but obviously that was a very egocentric way of looking at the whole thing.
Although he really hoped it wasn't just in his head that the cute boy looked at him more than anyone else. He certainly wasn't taking his eyes off of him for even a second.
And then he sang that other song and Kurt knew the song. Knew the video too, which might explain the sudden redness of his face. It was a difficult image to entirely dislodge as he watched Blaine gyrate his hips like that.
Yeah. Gay. He was gay all the way. If he had had even a shred of uncertainty, it was gone now. And when the number ended, the applause was enthusiastic coming from him.
There wasn't much time left so when Blaine was finished, he held his hands up to try and get some quiet from the people watching. "Okay, you like this? Come to Disco Inferno, see it with way more razzle dazzle on Friday. Oooh, don't tell me you guys have never heard of Disco Inferno? It's a gay bar that has open mic night. 1211 Myrtle Ave! TGIF."
Blaine then sang the address playfully as the crowd started to dissipate, sensing the show was over. Short and sweet was best or the cops would confiscate his cash.
Speaking of, Blaine slung the guitar behind him now so he could grab the hat and swiftly pocket the money inside. Oh man, he saw a ten dollar bill. He could afford dinner today! "They're loose with ID checks, people. Don't let it scare you off."
Blaine looked up from what he was doing and saw Kurt, still there, smiling at him. Blaine smiled back. Well, may as well get some feedback. "So, uh, did you like it?"
"Yes," Kurt said, because he didn't feel it was very romantic to say 'duh'. He got his wallet out, clammy hands - he had been walking around too long, definitely - grabbing the twenty he had stashed there. He handed it to Blaine, feeling bashful. Not surprising, but incredibly inconvenient. He didn't know how bashful, awkward gay teen could ever get from daydreaming to action.
He supposed he'd have to at least try to be daring. "You are amazing," he gushed, realising that he must be told that all the time. Whatever, who didn't like to hear that?
"Your version of Teenage Dream beats the original. Easily. You're... I don't know, you're like some kind of mirage that appears to someone in the desert. Only gay."
He cleared his throat, clarifying. "Which makes it better."
"Woah, are you serious?" Blaine held onto the twenty and looked at it in awe before pocketing it. Well, he had no shame, he needed to make a living and his shoes seriously needed replacing. He tried to make the duct-tape look deliberate, and it sort of worked, but the rainy days were a nightmare. "Thanks, wow, you really know how to flatter a guy."
He was almost blushing now but he hoped it could be mistaken for the chilly wind getting to him. He had to learn a while back that anything like blushing, bowties, softness and being nice would get his ass kicked. Hard. Now he knew what he had to do. It had to be all persona until he got home.
"I think Katy Perry's version is still awesome but I'm glad to know I'm adding my spin to it. I like to take good songs and gay them up." Blaine shrugged and then started to walk. "We can keep talking, by the way, I just shouldn't linger in case someone called the cops."
"Do you guys have anything nice to wash a shirt in? Cause all I have is a very small bar of soap." Blaine asked as he stood outside of Hartley and Axel's apartment, knocking on the door. It was late afternoon so it was considerably quieter than this place could be. No drug deals in the halls, no parties, no passed out drunks.
He just hoped that someone could help him get some laundry done. He never liked it, he could never afford it and a laundromat was a long walk. By the time he washed them, he'd get robbed on the way home and lose all of his clothes.
"Please, guys, I'm desperate." He knocked again, hoping they weren't having sex or he'd never get an answer.
Hartley opened the door, dressed in boxers and a shirt he had just put on. Because they had been having sex but he had been faster with composing himself. He gestured at Blaine to come inside and clammed the door shut again, then frowned at him. He didn't have his hearing aids in, so he hadn't heard him before, but he could at the very least figure out that he had some kind of issue with that that shirt.
"What do you need, baby boy? Axel's naked." He glanced behind himself and called out. "PUT ON CLOTHES OR GET IN BED, BLAINE'S HERE."
That said he looked back on Blaine, so he could actually understand his reply.
"BLAINE, WHY ARE YOU HERE?" The pain in Axel's voice said it all. Yeah, he definitely interrupted during sex. Whoops, he didn't like interrupting them but he was a bit desperate. Tomorrow he saw a pretty, nice and clean boy. And he also needed to be a pretty, nice, clean boy.
"I just need help washing my clothes. I don't have anything and I'm meeting someone Friday so I nee--"
"Oh my God, he has a date." Axel was stumbling off the mattress on the floor, his boxers finally on as he found his feet and came over, grinning. "Oh woah, who is he?"
"It's not a date, just some guy but I want to make a good impression. I don't want him to know." That he was a homeless loser with no money and only one good set of clothes.
"Do you not want him to know that you're gay or that you are poor?" Hartley felt as if he was missing context here. "If you want to make a good impression, push him up against a wall and kiss him."
It worked for him. He took the shirt from Blaine and walked off with it, headed into the kitchen so he could get the detergent they had standing by the sink there.
As he started running water to fill the sink, he looked at Blaine again. "Do you like him, baby boy? In that way."
"That I'm poor, obviously. I don't want him to know. It's only like, you know, a short-term thing but I like the idea of having something like this." Blaine explained and then raised his hands, signing for Hartley. Highschool romance. He wanted to play pretend for a bit and then he would just stop seeing him and that was that.
Blaine watched as Axel flopped onto the broken mess that was kind of a couch and then turned back to Hartley, always more comfortable talking to him over Axel.
"I'm not really looking to kiss yet. I barely know him." Axel giggled. That was why he didn't like talking to him. Blaine blushed a little and looked down at his shoes. "I'm not looking to, you know... fuck."
"I'm impressed you even said that word," Hartley admitted honestly, while he left the shirt to soak and put a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "One second."
He held up a finger and then turned to Axel, signing quickly once he knew he had his attention. Go fuck yourself alone somewhere, I want to talk to Blaine. Get lost.
There was no way he could have a proper talk with Blaine when he was in a mood like this while Axel was there, giggling, grinning and being aggressively sexual.
It's not my fault he's sensitive. Rolling his eyes, Axel nodded and already had his hands down his boxers as he shoved his way into the bathroom and shut the door. Blaine watched, hoping he wasn't too mad at him. Sometimes Axel could be a bit scary. Especially when he got high, then he was a dick to everyone. Even Hartley.
Blaine looked a the closed door and then turned back to Hartley, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry I interrupted you. I spent my money on food and rent." With the word rent being used loosely. A slum lord just went through taking however much he fancied that time. He couldn't evict them, they were squatting, but he could beat the shit out of them and Blaine liked to avoid that. "I can't afford to wash my clothes or get new clothes. I'm hoping I can get more money busking this weekend."
Kurt wasn't bad at making plans. He was always making plans and quite a few of them had worked out perfectly. Such as setting up his dad and Carole. Such as his father getting into politics, even though that had backfired in some spectacular ways that he could not have anticipated.
Tonight the objective was to go to meet a cute boy and head with him to a gay club. So far, the only argument he had to present to his dad was 'it's not a school night'. There was no way that his dad would ever let him go. He only had one other option. He scoured around until he found a sporting event his dad might be interested in, floated it repeatedly - yet subtly - by Finn and then they were all set to watch it together.
Which meant that, to no one's surprise, Kurt elected to stay in their room - throwing a medium level hissy fit to avoid suspicion - and supposedly work on some studying. What he actually did was put together an outfit, after a lot of careful deliberation. Blaine had mostly worn black, so he wanted to match that somewhat alternative vibe, if very elevated. His form-hugging sweater came down to about mid-thigh and had some artful slits in it, he had put on some eyeliner and then immediately taken it off again and he ended up holding the boots he wanted to wear in his hands as he quietly sneaked out of the apartment, so his steps wouldn't be too loud.
Then there he was, nervous and excited, ready to meet Blaine at the subway station. It took him twenty minutes to get there, once he was past the almost hyperventilating phase of this plan. He came to the meeting spot, looking around, suddenly convinced that this had to have been a prank and he was about to be stood up.
Blaine was late. Blaine was always late. He wished he could text ahead but alas, no phone. He managed to run all the way to the subway, make the faster train and after all the stress, he was only ten minutes late.
Thank God that Kurt was standing there when he got off the train. Blaine threw his arms out, so grateful to see that Kurt had waited, sighing loudly. "Thank God. I'm so sorry, I am late. I missed the first train in and -- yeah, sorry. You are my hero for being here. I was so scared you'd just left."
Blaine came over to Kurt and just pulled him into a hug, holding him close. "Glad you made it, man. We're going to have a great night."
About five minutes before Blaine was supposed to be here, Kurt had already convinced himself that either he had either remembered the wrong time, place or possibly reality and he had made the whole thing up entirely. That was five minutes before. At the time he was further convinced that Blaine was hiding out somewhere to laugh at him and then, every further minute, as they ticked down, he promised himself that he had dignity and that he would simply leave, with his head held high.
Somehow, instead, he was still standing there when Blaine came, feeling like a nervous wreck. In spite of that very real feeling, all was forgotten when Blaine actually pulled him into a hug. Held him. He hugged back and barely dared to breathe. Blaine felt amazing. "A great night. Yes."
This was really happening. "I've never been to a bar before."
"It's a nice bar, everyone is super friendly. We're just gonna hop on this train and then it's like a two minute walk." Blaine promised as he held Kurt to the other side of the platform and checked the time. Not long now. He smiled at Kurt and playfully nudged their shoulders together. "You look a little freaked out. Don't worry so much. It's going to be chill and if you don't like it, no hard feelings. I'll walk you home."
Of course he was walking Kurt home. At this time of night? Yeah, he wasn't going to let Kurt go alone. "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I left you to get back alone."
"Really?" Kurt looked at him and hoped that the heart eyes were at least slightly less obvious than the pitter-patter of his heart made him feel they had to be. He stayed close to Blaine, longing to have the nerve to reach for his hand. To do something to make this a date in a more official capacity. "Well, good. Because I have only the highest expectations of my gentleman callers."
Playfulness was cute, he hoped. Or he just seemed like a completely flaming embarrassment, but he was trying to feel more optimistic than that.
"You should. Know your worth. A boy like you should be treated only the best." The subway pulled up and people got off in a hurry, Blaine didn't want to lose Kurt in the crowd so he took his hand so they could get on the subway together, pulling him down onto the nearest empty seats. "You know, I've lived in New York for a while now and the subway still stresses me out. I was hoping I'd be like a cool, chill New Yorker by now that doesn't care."
But he was more anxious than he generally liked to admit. He wasn't wholly proud of himself, he wanted to be hardened by the world already but here he was, still soft and scared.
"I don't think the subway scares me too much... Honestly, the bus back home was even worse." For one thing, there had never been a chance there of a boy like Blaine holding his hands the way it was happening right now. Kurt had tightened his grip on Blaine's hand, rather determined to not let go. This was real and this was happening. He smiled, hoping it would come across as teasing in a charming way. "Stick close to me, I'll make sure to protect you."
At least he could try and remember what stop they were getting off at. "How long have you been in New York?"
"Go to your room!" Burt did not want to have this fight right now. It was late and Kurt was clearly not taking it in. He almost wondered whether he was drunk, on top of all the other rules he'd already broken, but he couldn't smell anything on him. "We'll discuss it tomorrow."
"Can't wait," Kurt said, heading to his room - their room, he didn't get that kind of privacy any more - and closed the door behind himself. He threw himself onto the bed right away, burying his head under the pillow and then all he could do was laugh. He knew he should feel awful, guilty, worried or whatever. But it was like the sun had burst forth inside him. He couldn't help but be happy.
Finn was up, of course he was, they were all up. Kurt was missing and no one could find him. It was 1am and he just lay back, listening to Burt yell. He kind of expected Kurt to be upset or cry or something but no. He came in smiling, flopped on his bed and laughed. It was so strange. Finn sat up, looking at Kurt curiously.
"Dude, are you drunk or ... high?" What was going on with him? Finn hadn't really seen Kurt this happy in, well, in forever.
"I'm not," Kurt replied with a roll of his eyes, but he supposed he couldn't blame Finn for that assumption. Besides, even if he did blame him, he was too happy to be annoyed right now. Apparently his happiness over Blaine simply erased all other feelings.
He sat up, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around him, looking over at Finn with that smile that just wouldn't leave his face. "I'm in love. That's better than any drug."
He had never tried any drug other than an aspirin, but he was still convinced even so.
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choirroom2025-02-06 07:55 pm
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His father had remarried, had found someone he really loved and that Kurt liked a lot too. Only Carole wasn't his mom and he felt conflicted about liking her as much as he did and he knew she was trying to respect that and not push his boundaries and it really just made him feel like he had more emotional labour instead of having someone to help him through all that teenage angst he was feeling.
He had a sibling, like he'd always wanted, and his father liked him more than he liked Kurt. Of course he did, Finn was perfect, manly and loved sports, tall and all the girls swooned over him and he had that slight tinge of homophobia that was not enough to call him out on it but that ensured a distance between them and that Kurt could never let his guard down in his own home any more.
He was in New York, where he'd dreamt he'd end up one day, only he was still owed a growth spurt, he had no friends, he was stuck in high school surrounded with people just as bigoted and small-minded as they had been back in Ohio. Only it was worse somehow because there was no one there he knew, no one he could trust.
He had come out to his father and he had accepted it, only he was uneasy about Kurt being out and proud because he worried. And he knew that he was still hoping that Kurt would realise it was just a phase and boobs were great, actually.
Kurt was in New York, surrounded by people. Their place was significantly smaller and he shared his smaller room with Finn. He was literally never by himself any more. Yet he felt utterly alone and completely lost.
He had nowhere to go right now, really. He wasn't even sure where precisely he was at the moment, but he didn't want to go home. He didn't want to lie to Carole about how his day had been yet. He felt so drained. So he had been wandering through the streets, eventually pausing by a few stairs when he noticed people around him getting excited. What was going on, should he be worried? He looked around uncertainly, while everyone else seemed to know what was happening.
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Blaine caught himself against Kurt and turned around, smiling at him. He had his guitar slung over his shoulder and he was looking at Kurt with bright, excited eyes. "Oh man, I'm so sorry. Did you come for the show? Cause I heard, it's going to be a really good one. You wanna watch?"
Well, a cute boy was there and he never could help himself. Flirting was too easy and too fun sometimes.
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How was that fair? It felt like a dream. No wonder he could barely remember how to string sentences together. "I can watch."
If this boy was going, he was ready to go watch paint dry. Or football, same difference.
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There was a cheer and Blaine didn't waste any time launching into a fun little Katy Perry number. He had dropped a hat onto the floor to collect money and people were tossing coins as he walked up to different girls (and boys), serenading them with the beautiful lyrics of Teenage Dream.
Though he didn't linger on anyone long. Well, no one but Kurt. He just kept coming back to look at Kurt. He only looked away as he finished the song. "We're here, we're queer and we're not going to stay silent."
Judging by the noise, Blaine knew his audience well. Of course, Axel had helped distribute his flyers. Now he had the crowds attention and, of course, limited time before the cops broke it up, he took advantage and started another song.
A cover of something his brother wrote - Girls / Girls / Boys. Only he was not undressing for it. For multiple, many reasons.
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Although he really hoped it wasn't just in his head that the cute boy looked at him more than anyone else. He certainly wasn't taking his eyes off of him for even a second.
And then he sang that other song and Kurt knew the song. Knew the video too, which might explain the sudden redness of his face. It was a difficult image to entirely dislodge as he watched Blaine gyrate his hips like that.
Yeah. Gay. He was gay all the way. If he had had even a shred of uncertainty, it was gone now. And when the number ended, the applause was enthusiastic coming from him.
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Blaine then sang the address playfully as the crowd started to dissipate, sensing the show was over. Short and sweet was best or the cops would confiscate his cash.
Speaking of, Blaine slung the guitar behind him now so he could grab the hat and swiftly pocket the money inside. Oh man, he saw a ten dollar bill. He could afford dinner today! "They're loose with ID checks, people. Don't let it scare you off."
Blaine looked up from what he was doing and saw Kurt, still there, smiling at him. Blaine smiled back. Well, may as well get some feedback. "So, uh, did you like it?"
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He supposed he'd have to at least try to be daring. "You are amazing," he gushed, realising that he must be told that all the time. Whatever, who didn't like to hear that?
"Your version of Teenage Dream beats the original. Easily. You're... I don't know, you're like some kind of mirage that appears to someone in the desert. Only gay."
He cleared his throat, clarifying. "Which makes it better."
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He was almost blushing now but he hoped it could be mistaken for the chilly wind getting to him. He had to learn a while back that anything like blushing, bowties, softness and being nice would get his ass kicked. Hard. Now he knew what he had to do. It had to be all persona until he got home.
"I think Katy Perry's version is still awesome but I'm glad to know I'm adding my spin to it. I like to take good songs and gay them up." Blaine shrugged and then started to walk. "We can keep talking, by the way, I just shouldn't linger in case someone called the cops."
They knew him by name these days. Yikes.
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He just hoped that someone could help him get some laundry done. He never liked it, he could never afford it and a laundromat was a long walk. By the time he washed them, he'd get robbed on the way home and lose all of his clothes.
"Please, guys, I'm desperate." He knocked again, hoping they weren't having sex or he'd never get an answer.
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"What do you need, baby boy? Axel's naked." He glanced behind himself and called out. "PUT ON CLOTHES OR GET IN BED, BLAINE'S HERE."
That said he looked back on Blaine, so he could actually understand his reply.
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"I just need help washing my clothes. I don't have anything and I'm meeting someone Friday so I nee--"
"Oh my God, he has a date." Axel was stumbling off the mattress on the floor, his boxers finally on as he found his feet and came over, grinning. "Oh woah, who is he?"
"It's not a date, just some guy but I want to make a good impression. I don't want him to know." That he was a homeless loser with no money and only one good set of clothes.
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It worked for him. He took the shirt from Blaine and walked off with it, headed into the kitchen so he could get the detergent they had standing by the sink there.
As he started running water to fill the sink, he looked at Blaine again. "Do you like him, baby boy? In that way."
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Blaine watched as Axel flopped onto the broken mess that was kind of a couch and then turned back to Hartley, always more comfortable talking to him over Axel.
"I'm not really looking to kiss yet. I barely know him." Axel giggled. That was why he didn't like talking to him. Blaine blushed a little and looked down at his shoes. "I'm not looking to, you know... fuck."
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He held up a finger and then turned to Axel, signing quickly once he knew he had his attention. Go fuck yourself alone somewhere, I want to talk to Blaine. Get lost.
There was no way he could have a proper talk with Blaine when he was in a mood like this while Axel was there, giggling, grinning and being aggressively sexual.
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Blaine looked a the closed door and then turned back to Hartley, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry I interrupted you. I spent my money on food and rent." With the word rent being used loosely. A slum lord just went through taking however much he fancied that time. He couldn't evict them, they were squatting, but he could beat the shit out of them and Blaine liked to avoid that. "I can't afford to wash my clothes or get new clothes. I'm hoping I can get more money busking this weekend."
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Tonight the objective was to go to meet a cute boy and head with him to a gay club. So far, the only argument he had to present to his dad was 'it's not a school night'. There was no way that his dad would ever let him go. He only had one other option. He scoured around until he found a sporting event his dad might be interested in, floated it repeatedly - yet subtly - by Finn and then they were all set to watch it together.
Which meant that, to no one's surprise, Kurt elected to stay in their room - throwing a medium level hissy fit to avoid suspicion - and supposedly work on some studying. What he actually did was put together an outfit, after a lot of careful deliberation. Blaine had mostly worn black, so he wanted to match that somewhat alternative vibe, if very elevated. His form-hugging sweater came down to about mid-thigh and had some artful slits in it, he had put on some eyeliner and then immediately taken it off again and he ended up holding the boots he wanted to wear in his hands as he quietly sneaked out of the apartment, so his steps wouldn't be too loud.
Then there he was, nervous and excited, ready to meet Blaine at the subway station. It took him twenty minutes to get there, once he was past the almost hyperventilating phase of this plan. He came to the meeting spot, looking around, suddenly convinced that this had to have been a prank and he was about to be stood up.
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Thank God that Kurt was standing there when he got off the train. Blaine threw his arms out, so grateful to see that Kurt had waited, sighing loudly. "Thank God. I'm so sorry, I am late. I missed the first train in and -- yeah, sorry. You are my hero for being here. I was so scared you'd just left."
Blaine came over to Kurt and just pulled him into a hug, holding him close. "Glad you made it, man. We're going to have a great night."
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Somehow, instead, he was still standing there when Blaine came, feeling like a nervous wreck. In spite of that very real feeling, all was forgotten when Blaine actually pulled him into a hug. Held him. He hugged back and barely dared to breathe. Blaine felt amazing. "A great night. Yes."
This was really happening. "I've never been to a bar before."
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Of course he was walking Kurt home. At this time of night? Yeah, he wasn't going to let Kurt go alone. "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I left you to get back alone."
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Playfulness was cute, he hoped. Or he just seemed like a completely flaming embarrassment, but he was trying to feel more optimistic than that.
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But he was more anxious than he generally liked to admit. He wasn't wholly proud of himself, he wanted to be hardened by the world already but here he was, still soft and scared.
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At least he could try and remember what stop they were getting off at. "How long have you been in New York?"
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"Can't wait," Kurt said, heading to his room - their room, he didn't get that kind of privacy any more - and closed the door behind himself. He threw himself onto the bed right away, burying his head under the pillow and then all he could do was laugh. He knew he should feel awful, guilty, worried or whatever. But it was like the sun had burst forth inside him. He couldn't help but be happy.
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"Dude, are you drunk or ... high?" What was going on with him? Finn hadn't really seen Kurt this happy in, well, in forever.
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He sat up, pulling his legs up and wrapping his arms around him, looking over at Finn with that smile that just wouldn't leave his face. "I'm in love. That's better than any drug."
He had never tried any drug other than an aspirin, but he was still convinced even so.