last_fm

Kurt Hummel had listened to music through the night ever since his mother had first rocked him to sleep as an infant, when she'd played the lifting melodies of Bach to help soothe her child. He grew to need music in order to sleep because he couldn't relax in the quiet; he'd think about school assignments or songs he'd like to sing one day or the cute boy in his class and his mind would just not stop thinking. But the background noise couldn't be the sounds of a fan or an air conditioner because he found them annoying. Instead he kept his iTunes shuffling through a playlist he'd made for the occasion of sleeping.

He woke up that Thursday morning to the soft guitar strumming of Jack Johnson's Constellations, which was curiously the song that he'd fallen asleep to the night before. Cool. How often does that happen in a playlist of 75 songs?

Kurt pushed the covers back and sprung out of bed. He showered quickly and brushed his teeth in the sink before shrugging into the Dalton Academy uniform that defined his wardrobe. It was the thing he hated most about being at Dalton – the repression of his individuality for the sake of unity. He was a Daltonite now and he needed to look the part. But at least at Dalton he was safe. That's what really mattered.

Plus, he found out that the boarders like Blaine were only required to wear the uniforms during school hours and for formal extracurriculars, including Warblers practice. The first time Kurt had stayed late at Dalton (it had been for a study session or something) was the first time he'd seen many of his peers in their out-of-uniform styles, while Kurt, fashionista extraordinaire, was stuck in his Dalton blazer. For the sake of comfort, Blaine had loaned him a pair of jeans that were a little too big around the waist and a little too small in height, hanging about an inch above his ankle. He was pleased to see, though, that Blaine owned a nice collection of sweaters, and at the time Kurt had grabbed a navy cashmere which he knew would pull out the blue in his eyes.

Once he learned that he could change clothes, he started carrying a spare outfit to school. But now that he and Blaine had finally become boyfriends, Kurt stayed late more often and Blaine had allowed him to store some of his spare clothes in his closet.

Kurt began his morning skin care routine, humming along to the song playing on his iTunes.

…and skipping just like the stones they threw their voices echoed across the waves. It's getting late…

That was Constellations again. Surprised, Kurt rubbed his lotion-covered hands in a towel before sitting down in front of his computer and removing the screen saver with a touch of a button. He clicked over to iTunes and his eyes drifted to the bottom left corner, where he noticed the number 1 resting on top of the repeat symbol.

He'd clicked the repeat button one too many times the previous night. He'd had Constellations playing all night.

Kurt glanced over at the play count – 243. He clicked over to his top 25 playlist. Constellations was 5 plays above Teenage Dream and 13 plays above Defying Gravity. Kurt giggled at his own idiocy.

Blaine also listened to music to go to sleep. The difference between him and Kurt, however, was that Blaine never put his music on repeat. He'd just choose an album and let it run. And he always fell asleep before the end of the album.

While Kurt jerked awake when his environment shifted to silence, Blaine was never awoken by the quiet. But he was a heavy sleeper, so Kurt's habit of keeping music playing through the night never bothered him, until the morning when the noise pulled him into awareness a good half hour before he wanted to be awake.

Of course, if this were the case, Kurt was there and Blaine spent the extra half hour watching his boyfriend sleep and luxuriating in the feeling of Kurt's body in his arms. So he didn't mind too much.

Or at all.

Yes, they'd slept together, and he meant that in the most literal way possible.

Blaine had been surprised the first time Burt had let his son sleep over at the Dalton dorms, but there had been a snow storm at the time so he didn't really have much choice. The real surprise had been when Burt had let Blaine stay at the Hummel-Hudson house for the first time. He missed Kurt when he didn't stay over. He'd never told Kurt, but the first thing he did on those days was check to see what Kurt was listening to.

So he woke up that Thursday, missing his boyfriend like nobody's business. He logged into facebook, which was his homepage, before typing last_fm into the browser. He was already logged into the site – BAnderson2, a username which he'd take from his school email. It made things easier to remember. Kurt was a little less traditional, though.

Blaine clicked into the account name, FashionistaKurt, grinning at simply seeing the letters K, U, R, and T spelled out in front of him.

He noticed that Kurt was currently listening to Constellations, which was one of Blaine's favorite songs. Except all of Kurt's recently listened tracks said, "Jack Johnson – Constellations." He clicked next button and the list mirrored the previous, as did the following page.

Blaine texted Kurt, laughing: So. I hear you like Constellations.

The reply was quick: Shut Up. -.-

He replied: Put on Candles? He let his cursor hover over the song in iTunes, and waited for it to pop up on Kurt's current listening. He hoped they'd pressed play at the same time.

Teenage Dream was Kurt's song because that was when Kurt fell in love with Blaine. Blackbird was his song because that was when he fell in love with Kurt. But Candles was theirs. Because that was when they fell in love with each other. The song was really about a break-up, but somehow they had made it their own. It had become less about losing someone they'd once loved and more about learning to stand tall in the face of their demons, living their lives and erasing the remnants of their past. It worked for them, and they did it together.

Blaine sang his part, comforted by the fact that he knew Kurt was doing the same from home. After the song, Blaine got a shower and finished up some reading while he waited for Kurt to arrive at the campus coffee shop before classes started.

Kurt swung his car into an open spot in the commuter lot, which was much closer to the center of campus than the boarder lots that surrounded the dorms. It was a short walk from the parking lot to the little coffee shop adjacent to the main dining hall. From a distance he could see Wes panicked and running towards the music building – he must have woken up late for class again.

Kurt entered the shop, breathing in the pleasant aroma. Blaine was sitting at their usual table, his book dog-earred and placed to the side as their friend David chatted amiably with him. Kurt could only see the back of David's head, but he knew it was him because he was observant. David always talked with his hands.

Blaine threw his head back, laughing at whatever David had said. Kurt loved Blaine's laugh. He smiled when Blaine's honey eyes found his boyfriend's hazel ones. Immediately, Blaine held up a finger to David, standing up from his chair to attack Kurt's lips with his own.

"I missed you too," Kurt said as they pulled apart. Blaine grinned cheekily, but he took Kurt's bag for him and pulled up a chair at their table while Kurt ordered his coffee. He could still hear Blaine and David laughing and was glad that his friends were in such a good mood this morning.

It would come in handy when they had to deal with a frazzled Wes.

Kurt thanked the girl working the counter with a smile as he reached out for his mocha, letting the warm cup heat his fingers.

"Hey, David," Kurt said when he sat down beside him.

"Heya, Kurt!" David said. "So I hear you like Constellations."

Kurt choked on his drink. Blaine immediately clapped him on the back, but laughed along with David when Kurt's coughing subsided.

"You're horrible," Kurt said.

"You love me anyway," Blaine replied, his eyes twinkling.

"Maybe," Kurt said. He sipped his drink.

All too soon, David was checking his watch. "Alright, boys. Sorry I can't stick around, Kurt. I need to print some stuff at the library before my class." He pushed his chair back. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

With David gone, Blaine and Kurt looked at each other. Simply looked.

They both smiled.

"I can't stay late tonight." Kurt said. "Come home with me this weekend?"

"Of course!" Blaine replied.

Kurt walked into the Hummel-Hudson household with a spring in his step and right in time for the dinner Carole had prepared. He was in a good mood, despite the stab the Warblers had made about his evening mishap.

He'd walked into Warblers practice a few minutes before the actual meeting started, but many of their members were already there, and Wes had been informally taking recommendations for possible songs for them to sing. Kurt had sat down next to Blaine who'd swung his arm around Kurt's shoulders.

"…it might be hard to do a cappella with the entire group. But I know a lot of people like the song…" Jeff was saying, rambling as he explained that it would be a good song to have in their repertoire, even if it was just a solo performance by one of their members.

And then he was singing the first line of Constellations: The light was leaving in the west it was blue. He hadn't gotten to The children's laughter sang because the Warblers all had burst out into their own fits of giggles as the tips of Kurt's ear turned red. Blaine had pulled Kurt closer, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Despite his embarrassment, Kurt had found himself laughing into Blaine's jacket, because his friends didn't really mean anything nasty by their jokes.

He could smell chicken grilling on the stove in the kitchen. He dropped his bag off in his room and slid out of his uniform. He put on something a little more him, fixed his hair to perfection, and then went back into the kitchen. Carole was humming as she flipped the chicken breasts. She turned when she heard Kurt's footsteps.

"Need any help?" Kurt offered.

"Thanks, hon, but no." Kurt shrugged, sitting down at the kitchen table anyway. He knew Carole liked the company. "Did you see Blaine today?" she asked.

"Yep. We had coffee this morning. He's been a little stressed out because he has two tests tomorrow. It's probably good I'm home. He'll actually be able to focus on studying, I hope."

"He'll be fine, honey. Blaine's a smart kid. I'm sure he's just worrying for nothing."

"Yeah, he does that." Kurt bit his lower lip. "We're skipping coffee tomorrow morning too. I won't be able to see him until after classes let out. At least we'll have the weekend."

Carole painfully turned to her step-son, "Kurt? Did you forget about this weekend?"

He looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

She hated this. She'd seen how hard the week had been for Kurt and she knew how much he needed Blaine this weekend. She sighed. "My mother is visiting this weekend. Blaine can't come over."

Kurt continued to bite his lip. "When?"

"The entire weekend. Your father is picking her up from the airport Friday afternoon. She's staying until Monday morning. I am so sorry, sweetie. I know how much you wanted him to stay."

"No. It's my fault," Kurt said, trailing his finger between the tiles of the kitchen table. "I should've asked first. It's just gotten so normal, you know? I didn't even think there'd be a problem. I should've remembered that too. It's just…"

"What's wrong, honey?"

"I've just been having a hard time sleeping…when he's not there beside me." He looked up at Carole, hiding his insecurities behind a tiny laugh. "It scares me a little."

"You're young and in love, Kurt. Of course you're scared. It's normal." She hugged him."Do you want my advice?"

"Yes please."

"Smell has always been comforting to me. Does Blaine ever leave any of his clothes here?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. He always packs an overnight bag. He knows how I am about keeping my room clean and organized."

"Okay, ask him for a sweatshirt or something. I don't think he'd mind."

"Really?" He was unsure.

"Really, I think he'd gladly give you a sweatshirt if it meant you'd sleep better. Now, go get your father and brother down here for dinner."

That night around 10:00 he texted Blaine: No go for this weekend. Family coming in. Sorry, babe.

Blaine responded 20 minutes later: : ( I'll miss you.

Kurt typed: I'll miss you too. Is there ANY way I can see you tomorrow?

Blaine responded immediately: I want to, but I can't. I really need the morning.

Okay I love you, Kurt replied.

Love you too. Txt me.

Kurt sighed, picking up the novel he had to read for his English class. He put on his playlist for sleeping, making sure not to hit the repeat button more than once. He let the book's complex words lull him to sleep, his heart aching at the empty space beside him.

Blaine had set his alarm for 6:00 AM the next day, after having gone to sleep at 1:00 to the strumming of an acoustic guitarist he admired. He'd been asleep before the first song had ended. As usual, that morning he quickly logged into facebook – nothing had really changed since the last time he'd checked. His switched over to last_fm . It was early, but he knew Kurt would be getting up soon anyway. Kurt was listening to the RENT soundtrack, which meant he definitely wasn't sleeping. La Vie Boheme wasn't the most relaxing of songs in the world. Kurt was probably awake and enthusiastically dancing around his room.

Blaine decided he liked the image.

He rushed through his morning routine, showering in double time and brushing his teeth forcefully. The library was closed that early in the morning, so he moved his work into the Common Room where he cracked open his textbook and began highlighting the information he'd need from Chapter 4 to write that essay question.

He studied until 8:30, at which time he packed his stuff up and walked to his first class. They had four classes daily. The day's exams were in the third and fourth classes. He wished that they were switched so he could take the tests and be done with it. Having the two classes before them was only going to make him anxious and he knew that.

And his Spanish teacher just had to pick that particular day to give them pop quiz on the previous chapter's vocabulary. He found himself guessing for more words than he cared to admit. By the time he got to his last exam, his head ached, his fingers felt stiff, and he couldn't see straight. He painfully wrote about Romanticism and Keats, hoping that the connections he'd written about had made sense. He hadn't had the time to look back over his work before the class ended and time was up. He hadn't even had a chance to finish the conclusion!

Blaine's back cracked as he stood up from his bent over position, allowing the teacher to pick up his test as he left the room. Blaine sighed, picked up his shoulder bag, despite his aching back, and blearily made his way to the room, using his hand to steady himself along the wall.

When he got to his room, he dropped his bag to the floor and collapsed into his bed. He turned to his side, curling his body into the fetal position, grabbing one of his pillow and clinging to it as tight as his pained hands allowed him.

He'd left his laptop open on the floor, and the light pained him. Groaning at the movement, he carefully pulled the laptop beside him and lowered the lights. He glanced at his iTunes. He needed music. He clicked on his Beatles playlist, which only included his absolute favorites. He started with Blackbird, pressing the shuffle button, before he carefully placed the computer down on the ground again.

When Blackbird started over, Blaine realized he'd clicked the repeat again, not shuffle. He didn't have the strength to change it. Besides, it was the only song he wanted to listen to anyway.

"Kurt," he breathed as he closed his eyes, hoping that it would block out the elephants stomping around in his brain. No go. He whimpered as his head throbbed in time with his heart.

Kurt hadn't heard from Blaine all day. His Friday had been considerably uneventful, especially in comparison to the day he knew Blaine had had. He'd sent two texts to his boyfriend all ready, asking how his tests went, but he'd gotten no response.

When he arrived at the home, Carole's mother had already arrived and was entertaining Finn with a story of "back in the days" that had Finn's eyes rolling. He'd obviously heard the story before and was looking for something to distract the woman. Anything. He waved Kurt over.

"Grandma, you remember Kurt? From the wedding?"

"Kurt? Of course I do. The effeminate fellow, right?"

Finn spared a look at Kurt's slightly hurt face. He almost regretted drawing attention to the boy. "Yes," he drew out. "Though I think he'd prefer to be called Kurt."

Kurt held out a hand to the woman. "Hello ma'am."

"I can't see you, boy. Come closer." Kurt lowered his hand, stepping in front of the woman's sharp gaze. "Oh, a uniform! Back in the day we always wore uniforms. Not the rags you children wear nowadays." She glanced at Finn. "Delightful things uniforms. You look sharp like this, boy. I bet you just have the girls fawning all over you." And to Kurt's horror, she pinched his cheeks between her rough fingertips.

Sorry, Finn. There's only so much I can take.

Kurt squirmed out of the way. "...homework to do," he mumbled, running up the stairs and skipping a few steps.

There was nothing to do, so he pulled out his homework assignments and began working on those. It knew it was lame of him to do homework on a Friday night, but it would free up his weekend, at least. Work first, fun later. And it didn't hurt to get started.

He opened his iTunes, picked a playlist. He checked Blaine's last_fm account and noticed he was listening to Blackbird on repeat. Giggling, he texted the boy again: So I hear you like blackbird…

He hoped for a response, despite that Blaine hadn't returned his other messages yet. After five minutes, Kurt decided Blaine had his phone on silent or something. I miss you, he typed. He would leave it at that for the evening.

He was halfway through his readings when Carole called him down for dinner. Friday nights had always been important for the Hummel family. Burt had made it the one night a week that Kurt had to be home for dinner. Since they'd brought Carole and Finn into their family, they also made Friday night the Hummel-Hudson game night. When Blaine stayed over, he joined. Kurt loved that his family already considered Blaine part of the family. It left him with a warm feeling inside.

Dinner was lovely. Carole had made spaghetti and a caesar salad. Kurt forced his father to have a decent portion of the salad before he could stab into the spaghetti. And as he ate, he watched his father's portions.

Carole's mother filled her plate with the entrée, mumbling happily as she bit into it. He grimaced. "It doesn't taste right."

Carole flinched. "What's wrong with it, mother?"

"Something's off in the spices. Did you use my recipe, dear?"

"Yes."

"Where's the garlic?"

"It's there. I didn't put as much in. We've been trying to watch Burt's health."

"Pasta needs garlic. The noodles taste off too. Honestly, Carole!"

Kurt spoke up, "They're whole wheat. It's better for you."

"Don't tell me what's better for me, boy." She twirled the spaghetti around her fork, oblivious to the glares being sent her way from Burt's direction. Kurt smiled at his dad, telling him to calm down before anything happened. "I don't waste food, so I'll eat it. But you need to follow the recipe next time, dear," she said, patting Carole's hand affectionately.

"Well, I think it's great, Mom!" Finn said as he stuffed a breadstick in his mouth. His grandmother immediately started lecturing Finn on the evils of talking while chewing. He winked discreetly at his mother. Finn was a lot smarter than Kurt gave him credit for.

He saw his father's arm twitch and Kurt knew that he and Carole were holding hands underneath the table. Kurt smiled, face down-turned towards his spaghetti.

Blaine awoke early the next morning, his sleep pattern confused by his early evening the previous day. He groaned, still feeling a sharp pressure behind his eyelids, but the pain had definitely decreased. He flexed his fingers and grimaced at the disgusting callus that had hardened on his right hand where he rested his pencil.

It was 4:00 in the morning. He reached for his laptop, turning Blackbird off with an embarrassed smile. Kurt was going to love that.

Kurt. He hadn't heard from Kurt at all. He blindly reached for his phone, but it wasn't resting at his bedside table as he'd expected. It had to be in his uniform, then…which he was still wearing. Gross.

He found his phone in his pants pocket. It was turned to silent, and he had 5 missed texts, 4 of which were Kurt's. He read through the messages.

He didn't want to wake Kurt up, so he didn't respond. Instead, he busied himself with a shower, taking off the dirty uniform and changing into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was comfortable, and judging by the way his head pounded (fiercer since he'd awoken), he wasn't going to be leaving his room anytime soon.

He checked his email. He'd gotten a message from his history teacher.

Dear Students,

You're exams have been graded, and they were less than stellar. Grades have been posted online. As you know, I don't curve the exam grades, but I will offer a new opportunity to pull the overall grades up.

I'm adding an assignment to the syllabus. Information is attached. Have your essays ready for Monday's class.

G. Shawl

Blaine panicked. Sick to his stomach, he clicked the link that would take him to his grades. He signed in, and found the exam in question. He closed his eyes as the page loaded, and, then, there it was, glaring at him.

The C+

His hands shook. He tried to remember what it was he'd written, but he was shocked to find that he had no freaking clue. He racked his brain, trying to remember what had happened in the day prior.

He already knew he did poorly in Spanish and now he had this C+ in History of all things! What if he'd done poorly in Romanticism too! It had been his last class, and it certainly was when he was feeling the worst. There was no way he'd done better…

And that professor had no sympathy for grading.

There was no way. And now he had this essay to write on top of everything else. His hands shaking, he clicked the attachment that would reveal the assignment to him.

Oh God.

A 10 pager.

He had 2 days to write a 10 page paper good enough to bring his grade up. His stomach protested, and Blaine sprinted to the toilet, his hand covering his mouth. He gripped the seat, weakly trying to brace himself.

When he'd finished, he curled up on the bathroom floor, hoping the cold floor would keep his head from spinning.

It didn't.

Kurt was worried. It was one thing not to hear from Blaine over the course of a single day. Not hearing from Blaine for two days was unheard of. By mid-afternoon, Kurt was going a little stir crazy, both from Carole's mother's rants about the Jeopardy marathon on TV and from the fact that he missed his boyfriend. At 3:00 PM, he texted Blaine one more time: Are you ok?

He waited five minutes. His phone vibrated. Fine. Sorry it took so long for me to respond. Lots of work to do.

I'm sorry, baby. He wrote back. Finally!

"What are you doing over there?" The older woman snapped.

"Texting, ma'am," Kurt explained quietly.

"How rude! We are sitting here watching TV, boy. Put that thing away and join us." Kurt nodded, placing his phone back in his pocket. It vibrated soon after, and Kurt tried discreetly to check the message Blaine had sent him.

I wish you were here

The old woman hissed. Kurt slipped his phone back into his pocket and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the couch. Finn mouthed his apologies silently from across the room. Carole's mother chatted on about Alex Trebek.

Dinner was tense that night. Carole was tired of cooking, and they all agreed for her sake to go out for dinner. Except her mother, who complained about being dragged along. The old woman was in a terrible mood and, while at the steak house, she made a point of harassing their young waitress about the right way to cook a slab of beef.

It had been cooked too long. It was seasoned wrong. Why didn't they have Worcestershire sauce?

It was embarrassing and ridiculous. Kurt instinctively looked down at his phone, disappointed at the blank screen.

"Who are you talking to, honey?" Carole asked curiously next to him.

"No one. Well, I was hoping to hear from Blaine."

"How is he doing?"

"I'm not sure. It worries me."

"Who's this Blaine kid?" Carole's mother said, perking up after her latest round of arguing with the waitress.

"He's a friend of Kurt's," Carole said.

At the same time, Kurt replied, "He's my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Oh dear." She leaned forward to speak to Burt directly, though her voice carried across the table. "And you haven't tried to fix him yet?" Burt reddened, dropping his fork to his plate with a clatter loud enough to startle Kurt. Carole protectively placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder. But the old woman had continued to speak, "I know plenty of camps that can help. I can give you pamphlets."

"Kurt!" Burt said. "We're leaving." He got up from the table, followed by Kurt. "Carole? Finn?" he said, holding a hand out to his wife.

"You can't leave me here!" Carole's mother said.

"Watch me," Burt said. And the Hummel-Hudson family left, leaving Carole's mother with the bill. In the car, Carole cried softly, continuing to apologize for her mother's behavior. Burt hugged her to him, assuring her that it was going to be okay. Finn and Kurt both remained silent, Finn shifting awkwardly in his seat while Kurt leaned his head against the window.

"You need to go get her," he said, eyes closed.

"What?"

Kurt laughed in discomfort. "You can't leave those poor restaurant folk with her. I can stay at Dalton tonight. Blaine will pick me up. Just drop me off at the graveyard. And then you can circle back here."

"But Kurt -" Finn protested.

"I'll be fine. Go on, dad."

"Call, Blaine first." So Kurt dialed Blaine's number, listening to it ring a few times. There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line.

"Kurt?" Blaine said.

"Can you pick me up?" he whispered.

"Yes. God, Kurt. What happened?"

"We'll talk about it later. Just meet me at the graveyard."

"Yeah. Okay, Kurt." Kurt pressed end, giving his father a signal thumbs up from the back seat.

The graveyard was only a ten minute drive from the restaurant. Burt pulled over by the main gate, reluctantly allowing his son to leave the car. "Are you sure about this, Kurt? You know you come first, right?"

"Yes, Dad. Just get her out of the house for me."

Carole continued to cry softly. Kurt walked around to the other side of the car, signaling Carole to roll down her window. "I'm so sorry, baby," she said to Kurt. "You shouldn't have to deal with this."

"I deal with this every day. I'm used to it." Kurt leaned in, kissing Carole on the cheek. "It's not your fault, Carole. Don't worry, Blaine will be here soon."

With that, he let his family drive away.

Blaine had worked on his paper all day, only stopping to answer Kurt's texts and for food when he realized that he was hungry. He hadn't thrown up since the morning, and he successfully managed to keep down the chicken noodle soup he'd prepared in his dorm. This was a good thing, indicating to him that he felt so off because of stress, and not as a result of an illness.

He was tired and miserable though, and his head still ached something fierce, but when he got the call from Kurt, he didn't think for a second that he should stay in the dorm to rest. Kurt needed him and, to be honest with himself, he needed Kurt too. Blaine grabbed a sweatshirt and raced to his car, his heart beating quickly. They only met at the graveyard when things were roughest. Those were the times when Kurt spoke to his mother.

He knew where to go; he'd been there before. Blaine parked his car along the side of the road and walked quickly towards the back of the cemetery. And there was Kurt, his head resting upon the gravestone as he sat cross-legged in front of it, the orange rays of the sunset framing the tableau.

"Blaine," he breathed, hearing the soft footfalls of his boyfriend's tennis shoes through grass. He kept his face hidden, reaching a thin arm to his love. Blaine grabbed the hand, kneeling down beside him. "You feel warm," Kurt said, finally glancing up at Blaine's pale face. "Oh, sweetheart, you're sick! Why didn't you tell me?" He pushed a sweaty curl behind Blaine's ear.

"I'm not sick," Blaine said. "It's just stress, I promise. Now, what happened?"

Kurt sighed. "Let's just say Carole's mother isn't my biggest fan. The sad thing is – I'm not even mad about her nasty comments about my sexuality. I just hate how she was treating Carole like she was nothing. She made her cry at dinner. If you had heard the woman…" He looked up into Blaine's hazel-brown eyes, Blaine's incredibly sad, hazel-brown eyes.

Blaine knew. Kurt hated himself for ranting to Blaine about bad parenting. Blaine (of all people!), who only saw his parents once a year at Christmastime and only received a single card on his birthday.

Yeah. Blaine knew.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said. Blaine simply swallowed, nodding for Kurt to continue. "The worst part is that Carole just kept apologizing to me as if it was her fault. It made me feel awful." A pause as they reveled in each other's touch. "What happened with you?"

"Friday's tests didn't go so well. Farlow sprung a pop quiz on us, and then I just didn't do well on my exams. I had the worst stress headache of my life and my sleep schedule is all screwed up. And then I woke up this morning to a message from my teacher about the C+ I'd gotten on my exam and an impromptu 10 page paper due on Monday. I've been working on it all day. Kurt, I'm so tired." He ran his free hand through his thick hair, sighing. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

They quietly watched the last explosion of color before the sun hid its face underneath the horizon, their hands clasped and their shoulders touching. Color faded to the black of night, and Kurt shivered in the evening air.

"You're cold," Blaine said, pulling off his sweatshirt,

Kurt protested. "You're sick."

"I'm not. Take the sweatshirt." Kurt did so, pulling the warm material over his head. He breathed in the scent of Blaine.

"Can I keep it?" Kurt asked boldly. "I've been having trouble sleeping too," he admitted, softly.

"Of course you can keep it," Blaine said, nuzzling his nose against Kurt's neck and liking the way Kurt smelled in his clothes. "You only ever had to ask."

"Mhmm. You're going to get cold. Are you sure you don't want to go back to Dalton yet?"

"No. I want to stay here for a bit longer. Here. Lie down with me, Kurt." Blaine situated himself on the ground, facing up towards the sky. Kurt rested his head on Blaine's stomach, stretching himself out, perpendicular to his boyfriend. Blaine brought one hand up to behind his head, and then started threading his callused fingers through Kurt's smooth hair.

They looked up at the stars. Blaine giggled suddenly, which jostled Kurt a little.

"Hmm?" Kurt said quizzically.

"I heard you like constellations," Blaine said, singing:

And it was just another night
With a sunset and a moonrise
Not so far behind to give us just enough light
To lay down underneath the stars
Listen to all translations
Of the stories across the sky
We drew our own constellations

Kurt laughed too. "Let's do that, then. That one there looks like the birds I used to line-draw in elementary school." He pointed up to a 'w' in the sky.

"That's Cassiopeia," Blaine said.

"I don't care. It's our bird now." He grinned, hoping Blaine could hear it in his voice. "It can be a blackbird. I heard you like blackbirds."

END

A/N: Well. Wasn't that an adventure? I'm actually kind of proud of this one, so I'd appreciate if you'd take the time to review. Please? Pretty please. I had a pretty crappy week and could use the pick me up.

Disclaimer: I do not own recognizable Glee characters, Jack Johnson, La Vie Boheme, Blackbird, Candles, Teenage Dream, Facebook, or last_fm