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The afternoon after Blaine took his last exam, they went to the beach.
Kurt was waiting for him outside the exam hall. It was blindingly sunny. Blaine felt the warmth envelope him and remembered he was alive.
Kurt was smiling behind his enormous sunglasses. “How was it?”
“I honestly don’t care how I did for once,” Blaine said, following Kurt to the car. “I’m just happy I’m done.”
The drive took twenty minutes. The thing about letting Kurt drive was that he kept glancing toward Blaine in the passenger seat, not actually at him, but to look at the road. Even this nominal attention flustered him. He looked out the window on his side to hide it.
It was a weekday and the beach was relatively empty. There were maybe three families and a handful of people walking their dogs.
The glossy rocks created vague tide pools. Kurt sat on a rock as Blaine waded into the water, which glittered when the sun passed over it.
“Look,” said Blaine. “Tiny fish.” There were in fact pale minnows swimming around his ankles.
Kurt leaned down to look. Blaine flicked water at him. Kurt emitted an impressively high pitched noise.
Blaine laughed so hard he tripped over something. The water was freezing. When he resurfaced Kurt was looking smug. “Avenged without even having to do anything.”
Blaine was soaked and his hair was done for. He shook his head and saw Kurt duck from the flinging water drops. “Wow, it’s like you’re the wicked witch of the west.”
“I’m not afraid of water,” Kurt said, “I would just like to not get wet.”
“Did you know fear of water was historically associated with rabies? They used to call rabies hydrophobia or something.”
“How relevant.”
“It’s not really,” Blaine started to say, then realized Kurt was being sarcastic. “Oh. I think exams made my brain melt into a confusing pool of trivia.”
Blaine was doing premed to satisfy his parents. If he failed to get into medical school he’d be free to pursue something else. It made studying really psychologically difficult.
Kurt didn’t say anything about it even though he had in the past. He just said, “I miss your voice. Sing something for me?”
Blaine did. Kurt had perfect pitch and gave him the starting note. He was able to laugh at himself when his voice cracked because it was Kurt, who was the only one who ever really heard him sing.
Pressed up to the rock that Kurt was sitting on, his face by Kurt’s knee, it was easy to allow the romance of the moment bleed into his voice. It was the part of the afternoon when the clouds would cover and uncover the sun so that the sky would dim and brighten over and over. He was watching the water glitter intermittently and thinking about how every song sounded like it was about Kurt.
Later they were walking up the shore. It was still sunny but windy and Blaine was shivering.
“Just ditch your wet shirt,” Kurt suggested. “You can have this one. Advantage of so many layers.” He undid his button-down shirt and tossed it at Blaine, who caught it neatly. Underneath Kurt was wearing a black tank top, which fit him really well.
Blaine shucked off his wet shirt as Kurt stared into the not-quite sunset. Kurt’s shirt had a fancy black and white pattern. Blaine had seen him wear it often without expecting to ever be holding it in his hands.
He put it on. The material felt expensive and it smelled like Kurt, like his sweat and his sunscreen. Blaine wasn’t expecting it. For a brief moment it was hard to breathe.
Kurt turned. He looked approving. “You should let me buy you clothes sometime.”
“I would never survive shopping with you,” Blaine said, glad his voice came out normal. “What is this, Prada?”
“Nope.”
“Mcqueen.”
“No.”
“Dolce and Gabbana. Vivienne Westwood. Burberry.”
“No luck.”
Blaine gave up when he’d listed every designer and retailer he thought Kurt would deign to shop at. It was Forever21. Apparently Kurt was full of surprises.
On the way back they stopped at 7Eleven where Blaine bought a raspberry slushie. They sat on a park bench outside near the pigeons.
Blaine offered Kurt the cup. “Do you want some?”
Kurt hesitated. He was weird about sharing straws. Blaine began to pry off the lid of the cup so Kurt could drink directly from it.
Something happened. Kurt began to laugh. “Oh my god.”
The lid had spat bits of slushie on Blaine’s face. A wet chunk of ice slid down his cheek. “Oh, come on.”
Kurt didn’t stop laughing but did produce a handkerchief for him. Trust Kurt to carry around handkerchiefs.
Blaine took it and wiped his face. “Just be glad I didn’t mess up your shirt.”
That shut Kurt up. “You’re right. Red40 is impossible to get out of blended textiles.” He looked Blaine over, possibly for signs of slushie damage, seemingly finding none. “The shirt looks good on you,” he said.
“Thanks. I - “ He lost his train of thought. Kurt was staring at him still.
“You have a…” Kurt motioned at his own face.
It took Blaine a while to get it. Then he pressed his fingers to the corner of his mouth.
“Other side.”
He switched sides.
“No - like, near the middle but not - “ Kurt sighed. “Don’t give me that face, it’s distracting.”
What face? Blaine looked at him in confusion, hand dropping to his side.
Kurt’s irritated expression softened. The light of the setting sun was doing something to his face - it made his skin almost luminous, revealing a faint dusting of freckles Blaine had never noticed before. Blaine was so entranced by it that when Kurt kissed him he didn’t react until it was over.
It was a little off center. There was a fleeting impression of a touch to his bottom lip like a caress. Blaine put a hand to his mouth. Oh. Kurt had kissed the slushie off him.
Blaine was smiling. He couldn’t help it. He was thinking about how Kurt had always been unwilling to share a straw, about every imagined glance that might not have been imagined, and the song from earlier was ringing in his head but there was no hopelessness to it anymore.
Kurt looked away like he was embarrassed. “It’s gone,” he said, apparently over it, but his voice was pitchy.
Blaine was okay with letting him pretend. “Okay,” he said. “Thank you.”
Kurt looked up, eyebrow on the rise, but whatever he saw on Blaine’s face made it stop.
It was hard to tell who leaned in first; they met in the middle and then it was the real thing. Kurt tasted faintly of raspberry. His top lip was sparse but his lower lip was full, and he made a pleased sound when Blaine bit it gently. He was cupping Blaine’s face in his hands and Blaine felt like he was submerging in a wash of joy that was the opposite of terrifying, like a tide that returns forever.
“Wow,” Blaine said, when they separated. He said it again.
Kurt was watching him sort of anxiously. “So does this mean - ? If you tell me that was friendly I will combust.”
Blaine tried not to laugh. “Uh, what exactly do you think I do with my friends?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Look. Kurt. They’re all sick to death of hearing about my massive crush on you which I apparently haven’t shut up about all year - “
Kurt cut him off with another kiss, quick, full of intent. Blaine was starting to think he’d never get used to it. It was like stepping out of the exam room and into the sun all over again: exhilarating.