Blaine looked back at me as if to smugly remark, "that was good, wasn't it?" as soon as our number was over. I met his glance with a grin, and looked to the audience again, continuing to take in their appreciation. Performing was the only thing in my life that gave me this kind of high, really. Even though I was not a featured soloist on the song, I still enjoyed taking my share of the glory in the applause and reveled in the faces of my closest friends smiling back at me. And of course, I couldn't help but smile back at Blaine. Even through the ache nagging at me from recent events. Even when I wanted to hate him, I lost every battle when it came to returning his smiles. Gosh, I loved him so much.

I really wanted to hate him, though. The last couple of days had been bliss, and then torture, and then the worst of all: uncertainty. I thought knowing Blaine was in love with someone else was the worst feeling of all, but this knew kind of fragile waiting I had not anticipated, and it was beginning to gnaw at my nerves even more than the constant idea of loving him unrequitedly had. So Blaine had discovered he didn't have a chance in hell with Jeremiah. Great. But that still left me wondering if he would ever love me like I loved him. And even though my worries were irrational, some part of me felt like time was running out, as if the longer we went on being "just friends" the more likely it was that we would be stuck there forever. And I did not know how long I could stand that. The last couple of months I had been content being good friends; after all, I had never felt so close to someone in my entire life and it already felt like we were intimately connected even though we were not officially together. During that time, however, the thought that we were acting like a couple and we were on our way to being one was always lurking in the back of my mind. Maybe that was what kept me content with acting the way we did and not being greedy for more.

But not anymore. I could not find myself okay with merely using the word "friends" when the label was so casually tossed around every day. Blaine and I had to be more than that, even acting the way we had been which included no absolutely clear indications of romance. We were something else. Something in between perhaps. And I could hardly stand keeping my intense love for him a secret anymore. Now that some of my thoughts were out in the open, my assumptions that he liked me at least, I had come too close to spilling all of my secrets of us to go back to a time when everything between us remained unspoken and unofficial. I wanted to tell everyone that I finally really understood what love was and that I would do anything for him (even serenade another boy). I was tired of pretending like he wasn't my world and like it did not bother me that he was so uncertain of his feelings when I had known about mine for several months.

So I waited. And it was agonizing.

The applause, meanwhile, had died down and the Warblers were scattering, so I made my way down the stage to greet Rachel and Mercedes.

"Aww boy, you did great!" Mercedes pulled my into a giant hug and Rachel joined in, promoting it to group hug.

"You guys really were awesome," Rachel added, somewhat anxiously. But then she smiled and I knew she had successfully fought the desire to make this about competing choirs and instead chosen to focus on how much this meant to me.

"Thanks, guys," I looked over at Mike and Tina as well who were looking very couple-y indeed with their arms wrapped around each other and Mike kissing Tina on the cheek.

Just that small gesture of romance brought me down from my high from performing and I added quickly, "Well, I think I'm just going to go home, guys."

Clearly disappointed, Mercedes countered, "But we're all going to hang out for a while longer…don't you want to sit down for a bit?" She lowered her voice a little. "I know it's not the same, but it'll be fun. Come on."

"Thanks, Mercedes. But I'm just not really in the mood," I sighed and she and Rachel looked at me understandingly. "I'm calling it a night. Maybe I'll go home and watch a movie and eat some icecream or something." I laughed in spite of everything and my friends just smiled sadly at me.

"If you're sure I guess," Mercedes said. "See you tomorrow, Kurt." She squeezed my shoulder and I was suddenly aware, as the girls were leaving, that a hand had grasped my other shoulder.

"Kurt." Blaine. Dear God I hoped he had not been waiting behind me for long and heard that entire conversation. I turned around quickly and smiled as if nothing was wrong.

"Hi!" I tried to sound chipper. "What's up?"

"Well, I was just wondering…you wanna hang out after this? Like watch a movie or something? Just chill out?" I must have looked upset or at least surprised at this inquiry because he quickly added, "I mean, I totally understand if you want to just go home, but I thought…since we've both had kind of a disappointing Valentine's Day…"

I could feel my eyes growing wide at the elusion to the conversation that I had been certain we were going to pretend never happened. Suddenly, I laughed at the weird surprise and in relief that we were, at least, still close enough to act comfortably around each and not hide from the truth.

"Sure," I smiled as I fought a losing battle with my heart. Damn it. I could never hate him, who was I kidding?

"Come on. Let's go." He grabbed my hand and I stopped breathing for a second.

We walked silently to his car, but, for once, I detested the lack of conversation. Being left alone with my thoughts was usually something I didn't mind, but this time my thoughts were too bitter to dwell on. Once we got in, I tried to make small-talk, something we were entirely past in our relationship, and apparently Blaine was aware of this.

"Nice job on the song," I tried to recreate the smile of before, but it was half-hearted now.

"Kurt." He paused and I held my breath. "Kurt, I really do care about you. A lot."

"I know," I cut in quickly.

"No, listen. You are my best friend. Seriously. And you mean so much to me and that's why I'm just…confused about this whole thing because," he scrambled for words and I stared, hanging on his ever word. He took a deep breath. "I just don't want to lose you, ok?"

My heart beat accelerated and I turned my gaze to the window instead of the face of the boy I loved so deeply. Neither of us spoke for a few seconds.

"Ugh! I don't know what's going on right now. I really don't," he continued finally, so frustrated that I almost giggled because, while I did not revel in his pain, at least he was finally having to face everything that I had already been struggling with for the last couple of months.

"Look," I finally interjected. "It's ok." I grabbed his hand, but only for a couple of seconds before letting go. "I don't want to push you into anything or whatever. I just wanted to be honest with you." I paused. "Because you're my friend, Blaine." I tried to look supportive. This was gracious. This was what it meant to really be a friend to someone. But was I being honest with him and myself at this point? I wasn't sure.

Regardless of whether or not my statements were genuine, Blaine seemed to be reassured and we rode the next few minutes to my house in comfortable silence.

"My dad and Carol are out on some romantic excursion," I explained as we walked up to the house and into the front door. "And I don't know where Finn is."

"Finn?" I called as we headed into the living room. No answer. "Hmm…oh well. So what do you want to watch? What are you in the mood for?"

Blaine began removing his jacket and tie, something that should not have been cause to stop what I was doing, but, at this point, everything seemed like a big deal and I struggled not to stare. "Well, this is weird, ok?" He started. "But ever since you mentioned When Harry Met Sally the other day I realized I hadn't seen that movie in years."

Once again I was surprised that we were talking about everything so openly and I stared at him for a bit too long without answering. Then, eventually, hesitantly, "Good choice. I'll go get it."

I turned to our movie cabinet and was sifting through the titles when Blaine announced, "I'm gonna go get something to drink."

"Oh I'm sorry, I should have offered—"

"Kurt, it's fine. I'll be right back."

This should not be awkward, I sighed. I suddenly swelled with pleasure, however, at the thought that Blaine was so at home in my home that he knew where things were in the kitchen. Finding the movie, I placed it into the DVD player and then took off my own jacket and loosened my tie. After placing them carefully on a nearby chair in order to guarantee a lack of wrinkles, I fell into the couch, exasperated, and lay down on my side. I let me mind wander to how awkward this movie was about to be. It was me, after all, that had noted its resemblance to our own relationship. How would he react when the plot unfolded and the conflict was presented between two very close but confused friends? And watching anything with any kissing in it with Blaine, as childish as it may have sounded, had become uncomfortable for me. There was something about watching two people participate in something I so desperately wanted that put me on edge, to say the least. I closed my eyes, wishing my feelings away. Wishing that I could be content merely with being with Blaine, being there for him, loving him as an intimate friend.

"Um," Blaine's voice broke my trance. I opened my eyes and saw him eyeing the couch, the entirety of which I was currently occupying.

"Oh. Sorry. I'll sit up." I shot up but Blaine's hand was on my shoulder again, prohibiting me from raising my body more than a couple of inches.

"You're fine. Just lift your head a little so I can sit and then you can go back to the way you were."

This was not part of the plan. Nonetheless, I did as he asked and suddenly my head was in his lap and I was lying down again and we were so close and I was absolutely in love with him and this was so not a good idea. We had watched movies like this before a couple of times, but everything was different now, right?

Right?

Blaine grabbed the remote from the arm of the couch, turned on the television and pressed play. Once again I was struck by the familiarity and comfortability he had in my house and I tried to pretend like I wasn't breathing abnormally or that I was tenser than usual. I attempted to calm myself down and not be intoxicated by the fact that my head was being supported only by his legs, but hearing the word "intoxicated" in my brain had the opposite effect. This simple act somehow seemed more intimate than ever before, and I was ever aware of every detail of the situation: the warmth of his body through his slacks, the texture of the fabric against my cheek, my own breath on his legs, which I was desperately trying to control.

It's a good thing that I had seen this movie about a hundred times because I found myself hardly able to pay attention to the colorful flashes and voices coming from the television. I decided in that moment just to bask in purely being with him. This very well might have been the closest we were ever going to get, and there was no reason why I should not enjoy it, even if the pleasure was accompanied by the acute pain of the potential we were not exploring. I sighed and relaxed my neck, snuggling slightly into him as if he were a pillow.

We didn't talk much during the movie, which was unusual but not unheard of. It was a little strange not being able to see Blaine's face to witness his reactions to the movie; I had to admit that sometimes when we watched movies I mostly was just watching him watch the movie out of the corner of my eye (I didn't want to blatantly stare, and I mostly avoided that). After a while, however, I decided this was for the best when it came to this particular movie. If he really had not seen it for years, a part of me did not care to see his reactions to certain scenes, especially in light of recent conversation when I directly compared us to the title characters. It was unlikely that he would analyze it as much as I had, but I felt like the comparison immediately became awkward when you learned that the characters had sex in the movie. The thought made me blush and I found another reason to be grateful that Blaine and I were not able to see each other's faces this particular night.

We must have had about 20 minutes left in the movie when I felt fingers tentatively run through my hair and I thought I might not make it to the credits. Part of me screamed, "What the hell are you doing?" while the other part begged him to continue because this felt so intensely right. I compromised by not saying anything, but I must have reacted physically somewhat because Blaine stopped suddenly and asked if what he was doing was all right.

"It's fine." I tried to convey my approval with the least amount of words possible, wondering if I could get even those out at this point.

Immediately his fingers were back in my hair and I closed my eyes in pleasure, taking note of the fact that he would not be able to tell whether or not I was watching the movie. His hand continued to stroke my hair, completely messing it up, but I could not have cared less, even though, if I thought about it, if anyone else had pulled such a stunt, I would have karate-chopped them by then.

But Blaine, Blaine was different. I could not complain about Blaine touching me in any way, no matter how small of gesture it might have seemed to someone else, or to him. In that moment, even though a part of me was completely miserable and knew that allowing this kind of intimacy to take place was a bad idea in the long run, I could not think of a time when I felt safer and more perfectly content to stay exactly where I was forever. The only thing that could have made it better was if Blaine actually knew how he was making feel and was delighting in that gift he had, purposefully making me the happiest I had ever been.

And with that thought, without warning, a tear silently slipped down my cheek, and I could not tell if it was a result of the relief in finally being touched in a way I had so desperately craved or of the agony in knowing that Blaine was not touching me in passion at all, but instead as a "friend."

Either way, one by one, more tears streamed down my face and I worked to remain silent; for once that night, I was successful in hiding my feelings and continued to cry subtly to myself for several minutes while Harry and Sally made love, fought, and, ultimately kissed and lived happily ever after. How frantically I wanted that. But, for now, I took what I could get and took comfort in the fact that, while Blaine was not aware of what he was doing, he was still physically comforting me in my despondency.

That's what best friends were for, right?