I'm so very sorry for the late upload but it is not enterely my fault, till two days ago FanFiction didn't let me get inside my account. Everytime I tried to enter it go to error.

This is chapter 3 for those who will be awesome and forgive me for being so incredibly late, if I can I will post chapter four, which is long yeeey, as soon as posible.

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 3

Kurt's back was pressed against the wall near the small door, his hands were laying at his sides, knowing nothing better to do as both of my arms finished the prison my body was making to his own. Yeah. The cupboard was that small.

We listened as Rachel's steps came towards the door and we both held our breaths as the handle shacked violently, being rotated from the outside. She gave up a few seconds later, realizing that the door was actually closed, and I almost could heard her saying something about corrupting her best friend under her breath, but Rachel was already far enough to give my ears the credit of listening properly; even if I perfectly knew that that was exactly what she was speaking on her anger.

I stayed still, waiting for a her to comeback, but when I realized she wasn't going to do so I let out the air in my lungs, letting myself inhale again, realizing that the air inside the cupboard was perfumed with a colony that wasn't my own.

And then, with a simple move of my head, the closeness Kurt and I were wrapped in hit me: Our noses were almost touching, as our breaths mixed with the proximity, our legs were intertwined, and his chest was slightly pressed against mine, under the thin fabric of his dark-blue pajamas and the cotton from my shirt. The warmth coming from between us was suffocating, and either way neither spoke a word in protest.

Kurt was just staring at me, with those big light blue eyes and green touches in the iris, announcing the change of the it's color any time soon, inspecting any sudden movement or just waiting for me to back off and leave him a little space.

I didn't.

We held each other's gaze for what seemed like hours, as if memorizing our eyes would be helpful on something or if it was relevant to the situation we were. Although nothing in the situation was.

In a few minutes, or seconds (or hours) the noises from upstairs died down. No Mercedes calling on Rachel to stop walking in circles while swearing, claiming making her dizzy with her walk, neither the loud music that could trespass the walls with facility.

The only sound surrounding us was the calm inhale of our breathings and every other car from the street.

Without noticing I leaned over Kurt, taking a bit more of the reduced space we were confined, even if the one who had more space at his back was me.

But then, I made a stupid, oh so stupid, mistake: my eyes fell from his gaze to his mouth. It had been just a second, but it had been enough for him to put his hand on my chest and made me move backwards a little bit.

The warmth of his body provoked a craving feeling.

"I should go" he said, clearing his throat after, his voice sounding rough for the lack of use. He didn't make an attempt to leave and I frowned at the same time I smiled. Kurt chuckled, surely because of the stupid grimace on my face, and bent down my arm to free himself at last. Oh, right.

"Coming?" he said, not louder than a whisper, which made the click of the door unlocking fill the room as the noisiest sound in the world. I mumbled something like «in a minute», which, apparently, was enough for him to smile and get out.

I didn't notice I was on the same position until I let my body fell to the wall Kurt's body had been pressed to. A bit of light entering from the little space where the door was now open.

I put my arm under my eyes as the air seemed like something solid, the realization of the acts drowning on me.

What the hell had just happened?

I saw something sparkling in the dim light from the living room; sighing I took the silver necklace from under the door, inspecting its damage. It was totally broken.

Maybe I shouldn't have ripped it off, but the adrenaline running through my body didn't think about breaking the piece of jewelry once the idea of hiding in the cupboard popped inside my head.

When I finally got out I didn't feel like going to my room, the music now louder than before, followed by screams that sounded way too high to consider it singing.

Instead, I decided to prepare myself something to eat, because even if I had been pressed (if I had pressed, in this case) against a wall by another man, my stomach wasn't going to take that as food.

There were tons of things to satisfy my hunger; taking in consideration that neither Leroy nor Hiram would think we should spend the money they left us for grocery but for emergencies. I took cold chicken and put it onto a plate, then in the microwave; not feeling like preparing something fancy just for one.

The clock read five minutes, five minutes that I used for pouring me a glass of soda, grave a knife and fork and think about Kurt Hummel.

There were just five minutes, but they seem eternal.

I thought of that first time he came over as Rachel's play date, twelve years from now; my sister wouldn't let me play with them, calling me a baby for adult games, and the second time in which they were the ones asking me to play, I should have known that I was going to play the baby of their family.

I thought of the time Kurt's dad would leave him with us, in order to go to the hospital to see Elizabeth, ten years earlier it didn't make any sense to either of us. Burt visiting his wife as Kurt was forbidden to see his mom. I would found out later that those were the days she wasn't on her level and wouldn't recognize her own son, even if she fought the medication and the sickness to do it.

I thought of the funeral and how Kurt let himself cry on my chest after the comfort on Rachel's would disappear as she went to the bathroom, I remembered how he was shaking and sobbing and how I held my hand towards him, without saying a word and letting him hug me as my arms surrounded his body seconds after.

I thought of the time he went to the hospital after the… dance, how he had took my hand in his and smiled at me, there were words on that memory but that moment had been dark enough to block it out.

The timing alarm woke me from my dream as I took the chicken and ate in automatic mode. I couldn't think straight, all of the memories where he appeared replaying on my head like a new, contagious, song, there weren't that many but the idea of creating more opportunities as the one in the cupboard scared me.

Why was I thinking that way?

There were giggles, and shushed noises. I frowned at the interruption of a dream I couldn't quite remember, the sounds being too distracting and the position I was laying too uncomfortable.

"Oh, dear god, it can't be" an unfamiliar voice prayed a little louder. I felt a hand on my shoulder, cold against my skin, shaking me and asking for me to wake up.

"No, I have to" a yawn interrupted "save China" came out in a mumble, and the laughter after my words was enough for me to brush the sleepy state I was.

Three people were laughing out loud, surrounding the couch where I was sleeping, the last thing in my brain was the theme song of Mulan as the tiredness and dreams made me close my eyes for a second.

"Berry, your little bro' is adorable" Mercedes voice sounded again between giggles.

"Blaine, you know I love you, but my friends don't have the habit of waking up and found a guy in boxers on the couch"

And that was what took away every ounce of tiredness in my system. I sat, covering my bare chest with my arms as I looked to the people in the room. It was hot inside the house and a shirt wasn't exactly part of my regular pajamas.

"Oh, that's not a problem. At all. You don't mind, I don't mind and I'm pretty sure Kurt doesn't mind either." The black woman said, extending the vocal on the «pretty» and on Kurt's name.

Kurt.

The boy I thought about before falling asleep, and probably part of the dream I couldn't place right away, was standing there, looking everywhere but the place I was sitting; an uncomfortable expression on his face. I frowned. Was I that disgusting?

I had been told of been a dapper, prep school young boy who was appealing. Someone who could get the boy he wanted if I tried hard enough, and that every girl would be on my hand with just a look, but of course, every time a girl gave me her number or flirted deliberately with me, I had to explain that their team wasn't the one I played for.

"Blaine, are you listening?" Rachel said, taking me out of my mind. I nodded, but her glance told me I was supposed to do something else.

We stare at each other for a couple of seconds before she snapped "Go put some clothes on!" was yelled in my face.

I took the blanket I covered myself with in the couch (which I kicked off in the middle of my sleep) while I stood up and hurried to my room. If he didn't want to see me, I would please his wish.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, it drawn on me that I had the clothes from last night somewhere in the living room. I face palmed myself before taking a towel and crossing the hall to the bathroom.

When I finished my shower and open the door of the bathroom there would be a top five things of what I would expect on the other side: An alternative universe where police officers, with guns raised and pointing my chest with red lights, called my name out loud, proceeding to arrest me and sent me straight to court, just dressed in a towel, for a sequel of horrid crimes that not me but my third personality (named Carlos) had committed.

My parents, coming back from the trip earlier and talking to me about the realization that they had never –and hopefully never will have- had "the talk" with me. And Michael would take a plastic penis from his pocket as Hiram took condom and a lube from the inside of his jacket. I would have every single detail about preparation, the location of the prostate, and a search of a new boyfriend for put in practice my new knowledge.

Disneyland.

A new dog! Whose name would be a total mystery, because I sucked at names, and the poor creature would have to go to therapy because an excess of name-changing in less than a week.

Rachel, dressed with one of those colonial dresses and a wig from our performance in Maria Antoinette, her face totally paint in white and her lips red as cherries as she told me my hatter had asked me to go downstairs for tea.

But I did not except seeing the boy who was getting under my skin. Kurt moved his eyes to the ceiling, avoiding me and my body, completely; I would be rushing again to let him away from my ugliness, but then I saw it. His cheeks were tainted with a pink flush of embarrassment, it looked practically as if it was the first time he saw other guy apart from himself almost naked. It couldn't be, right? It didn't seem even possible.

"Kurt, you are blushing" the phrase slipped my lips before I could give it a second thought. And, damn, that sounded like flirting.

"Yeah, well- you- you are-err-" the pink on his cheeks turned red, his eyes still avoiding me. I passed him in order to enter my room, letting the door slightly open.

I had just put on my boxers (towel still wrapped around my waist) when Kurt closed it behind him.

"What can I help you with, sir?" I opened my drawers, taking as much clothes as possible, looking for something fashionable and, at the same time, comfortable to wear inside the house. It wasn't like I was going somewhere, anyway. "Isn't my sister that appealing as a friend since our escape from last night?"

And we both fell into an awkward silence. I cursed myself internally, feeling the tension almost palpable in the air.

Someday, a voice whispered inside my head, I was going to buy a filter.

I couldn't help but raising my head from the clothes spread all over my bed, just to find Kurt's eyes fixed on me. I gulped loudly.

"That was- fun, actually" his voice was so soft I almost missed he talked. "I came here to tell you Rachel said breakfast is ready and that she needs to talk to you, and I quote, extremely urgently"

"Did she say what for?" I asked absently while pulling on a with V neck shirt, a simple black jeans would go perfectly with it and I could use flip flops if everybody else in the house, except for Rachel, weren't a few inches taller than me.

Maybe he shook his head no, but I couldn't see it. My back was in his direction as the towel slid off my body, just the boxers covering my half-down body. I was used to it by now, to people, boys, been there while I was in underwear and talking to me as I changed clothes.

This, in some random way, felt totally different.

I could hear Kurt's heavy breathing on my side of the room, and the sole idea of him been there, dead silent and possibly staring at me made my heart race. The mystery of his train of thought was enough to catch my breath in my throat.

"Iwillseeyoudownstairs" he said as I spun around, zipper up and jeans buttoned. The door was left open in the rush.

Was he really that uncomfortable around me?

"He wasn't last night" I whispered to myself; the empty room being the only witness of my testimony.

When I was downstairs, prepare to head directly to the kitchen, the other three individuals that were in the house caught my sight. Mercedes, Rachel and Kurt were sitting on the couch, the coffee table in front of them full with cups, plates, cookies, yogurt and a kettle that exuded the distinct scent of coffee.

As I sit down next to my sister neither of them appeared to notice my entrance, and I soon as I glanced to Dream Girls on TV I completely understood. Taking a cup of coffee I let myself fell into the magic of the songs and the story that I knew by heart since I was twelve years old.

Once the movie ended I didn't expect for Rachel to tell me the thing she did.

"I'm going to make another party in the house" there was no place to discussion in her tone, so, there was none on mine either.

"Alright. I get to get in and drink"

If I had unstuck my eyes from the television I might have seen Kurt's smile and Mercedes knowing smirk.