Sorry for not writing this sooner, I was actually waiting for inspiration! Hope you enjoy this.

The lyrics used in this chapter are from "Born To Die" by Lana Del Rey which is pretty much my iPod's new whore-song.

Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, every single character on the show would be gay. Except for Blaine, who would just get slushied every now and them. And Will, 'cause he's just a pedo.

Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes, I'm quite tired and find it very hard (i.e embarrassing) to read myself.

When igniting a lighter, it takes less than a second for the gas to reach the spark and burst into a flame. It took about the same amount of time for Kurt to recognize Sam, sitting by himself at a table by the window in the school library. Only a flame could not begin to describe the fire that erupted within Kurt at this sight. The heat could not compare to the one that animated his lungs, his throat, his stomach and left his fingertips burning. Did his head feel so dizzy because he hadn't eaten anything consistent since Wednesday or was it because of what he was seeing? The world stopped. So did Kurt. He fingered the strap of his Mulberry shoulder bag. Should he turn around? Flee? Or was he going to listen to that part of him, the bigger part, the one that longed for pain, hurting, completeness: any excuse to interact with him.

Sam ran his hand through his hair and looked around. He was expecting his tutor. Did he know it would be Kurt? Was this a cruel game of fate?

Feet don't fail me now
Take me to the finish line
All my heart, it breaks every step that I take

Kurt answered his strongest desire, a concoction of lust and masochism, and walked forward.

But I'm hoping that the gates,
They'll tell me that you're mine

"You cut your hair." he said to the blond. School had started months ago yet this was the first time Kurt had addressed him. Sam said nothing. He opened his French textbook. Kurt could tell it was second-hand by the circled answers that were scribbled across the exercise on page 134. He sat down.

Avoiding eye-contact as much as possible, Kurt told Sam all about the passé simple and even started on the subjonctif. The whole time Kurt felt hot and cold, he shivered and sweat.

As both were gathering their things to leave an hour later (by then the library was emptying), Sam looked at Kurt and opened his mouth slightly. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked for the rights words, like a chess player ponders before setting a last pawn on the board to win the game.

"Que faisez vous ce soir?"

The French was all wrong. Kurt couldn't bring himself to care.

They had drunk in Kurt's car. Two bottles of Tariquet (he liked to think the fact that the wine was French gave the situation more legitimacy). They were mostly quiet, handing the bottles back and forth until they were empty. Kurt spent the whole time staring at Sam's lips. Sometimes they would move but he couldn't make out any sound.

By the time they got into Scandal he was drunk. He could tell because the way the man across the dance floor was staring at him wasn't bothering.

Sam licked his lips before pressing a bottle of beer to them. He didn't know why they'd decided to go there. They wanted a loud place. A crowded place. A place where they could do, and not think.

They had come to the right place.

Kurt wondered how the evening would end. He hated himself for hoping it would be in Sam's sheets. Hopefully not the motel's, those were scratchy.

Sam emptied his bottle and stood up from the stool he was perched on and offered Kurt his hand.

"Come dance with me." he yelled into his ear.

Wieniawski couldn't have sounded half as sweet.

The club was playing some new Black Eyed Peas song Kurt hated but he didn't mind. Sam's body was so close to him the music couldn't quite seem to reach his ear, getting lost in the maze of his feelings.

Keep making me laugh,
Let's go get high
Road's long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime

How many calories were there in a mojito? Was Sam hard or were the flashing lights playing tricks on him? His breath left Kurt's ear flushed. He tilted his head back and waved his finger in the air to the beat. At the time it hadn't looked ridiculous.

Kurt felt stupid. He felt hopeful. He didn't think of Blaine.

Sam was too drunk. He was peppering Kurt's neck with soft kisses. The sheets weren't scratchy. They were Egyptian cotton. Thank God Kurt had remembered his keys. Sam bit his neck softly and moaned. Kurt dig his nails harder into his back.

When he woke up Sam was gone. The spot where he'd been lying was already cold. So was Kurt.

Choose your last words,
This is the last time
Cause you and I
We were born to die

I have so many feelings about Kum, and in my head their relationship is so complicated, I have absolutely no idea where this story is going. Bear with and we might find out :)

Also, what are your thoughts on Samcedes?

It made me cried when watching the last episode. Just saying.