|
|
Post by BLAINE ANDERSON on Jan 23, 2012 3:22:23 GMT -6
CAN HOLD MY BREATH ONLY FOR A LITTLE WHILE
BEFORE REALITY STARTS SINKING IN [/font]  turn the page and skip to the end[/SIZE][/color][/font] TO WHERE I SWORE THAT I WOULD TRY
SINCE THE LAST TIME I CROSSED THAT LINEin the back of my mind I know
it only hurts when your eyes are open • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •[/color][/center] [/i] feel severely persecuted when it comes to my clothes,”[/b] he said, smirking faintly. “My style is charming, Kurt. Charming and sexy. Come on…” He bounced once in his seat and rested his chin on his hands, staring earnestly at Kurt and trying to get him to agree through sheer charm. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but it was always fun to try—assuming he could keep a straight face, which he wasn’t sure he could. He ducked his head, trying to hide a short laugh. Did this count as flirting? It didn’t feel any different from their normal banter. …Had he always been maybe-sort-of-flirting? Kurt knew not to take it that way, right? Would he know if he crossed the line into statements that could be taken that way—a growing risk now that he knew that he wanted Kurt to want him that way? “You think I should head that way and audition after high school?”He gave a short guffaw at the pose. Definitely not one of his more attractive laughs, but oh, well. He thought of Phantom’s infamously tone-deaf diva and smiled teasingly. “Maybe La Carlotta, with that attitude.” “If that’s really what you want to do, I think you’d be amazing,” he said, sincerely believing it. “You’re already one-in-a-million, so that’s in your favor.” There were so many times in his life he’d complimented someone merely to be flattering. This wasn’t one of them. It just slipped out of his mouth, simple and frank and followed by an earnest smile. He glanced away. “I’m sure you could pull it off.”Blaine blinked. He’d never seriously thought about performing as a career—well, never admitted to himself that he’d thought about it. It was kind of too late for that, wasn’t it? He was pretty sure he wasn’t even remotely good at acting; there were things you had to know to be an actor, and well, you had to stand out. His voice didn’t really have the whole Swedish Nightingale wow-factor that Kurt’s had, did it? “Swedish nightingale” was a reference to… Barnum, which was connected to Phantom because…Michael Crawford and a forbidden affair with a younger Swedish singing sensation. Right. Kurt could be the next Michael Crawford, actually. Blaine could see that. A brilliant comic performer with a voice like an angel. Great, now he was comparing Kurt to an actor he’d had a crush on since he was six. “Oh, you’ll see everything.”He wasn’t sure why he clenched his teeth just a little bit harder at that. There hadn’t been the remotest trace of innuendo around the statement, honestly, hormones sucked, and they picked up on the stupidest things. He threw himself into examining the nearest rack of polo shirts with almost religious attention. Maybe he should be a bit more religious... Except he liked being attracted to guys, thanks very much—just not cute best friends who’d recently announced that they were happy with someone else. Had he really just stopped himself from blurting out something innocent-if-redundant like “Good. Show me.” that would have made the whole conversation ten times worse in his head? He took a quick little break from reality for another of those nice moments when their arms were pressed together—like being in bed on a Monday morning and vowing to spend thirty more seconds denying that it was time to get up. “All you really have to do is hold your arms out like this, and I’ll hang the clothes on them.”He quirked an eyebrow. “If you want me to.” Okay, maybe he had almost put his arms out before realizing that Kurt was probably joking, but he was fine with playing along. “I’m just kidding.”He just smiled with a courteous little nod. “Sure you are. My offer still stands.” Maybe this counted as flirting. Maybe he couldn’t help it. Maybe there was a reason his mind kept returning to that “completely whipped” conversation with Wes and David he’d revisited earlier. He regarded Kurt's obvious excitement with an unshakable twinge of amusement. Apparently, he couldn’t resist dressing whoever he was with. Theatre might be an option, but 'Blaine would actually be a bit surprised if the boy didn’t end up doing something with fashion. He took the clothes Kurt had picked out and draped them over one arm. “Kurt,” he groaned, unable to fight a grin. “You and your impeccable fashion sense are going to make me buy way more than I actually need.”He ran his hand lightly across a row of folded sweaters in several colors and came to rest on a soft sage green. He picked it up and examined it more closely—simple, with a wide neckline and a small, unobtrusive row of buttons running along one shoulder. Light material. Probably clingy. Cute, definitely cute. But he already had too many sweaters, and it wasn’t his color, and he’d picked it up because he knew whose color it was…He sighed and glanced over at Kurt, wondering. It was just a sweater. Kurt couldn’t disapprove of it too much. It wasn’t like he’d picked out a dress or something. Besides, he needed more thin sweaters that hugged his torso. Not that he didn’t have them, but half the time, he still wore about five layers or bulky jackets he insisted were highly fashionable (well, mostly in winter, but still). Okay, snap out of it. Why was his subconscious making such a big deal out of this? He’d gravitated toward one of the most boring things in the store. Symptom of some sort of bizarre sweater fetish? Probably not, unless he had a corresponding fetish for vests and knee-high boots and everything Kurt wore (except the bulky jackets and five-layer sets). Kurt just had…well, a nice body. Nope, still not over him. Not helping. He noticed that his lips were dry and wet them anxiously. Kurt just pretty much told you to back off and you still can’t go five minutes without spacing out over him. Blaine’s stomach twisted. Staring and speculating and wanting were morally unacceptable now, weren’t they? Even if Kurt wouldn’t know. He should feel guilty, shouldn’t he? He felt guilty. It wasn’t his fault, really. He forgot where he’d first heard it, but the principle of “If I tell you not to think about cats, what do you think about?” came to mind. For instance, if you’ve started constantly reminding yourself not to think about kissing your best friend, what do you think about?…Kissing him. Whether his hands would be on your shoulders and your hands would be on his face and maybe he’d be up against a wall with your mouth on his neck and his voice in your ear and maybe it wouldn’t matter if your arms kept him there because he wouldn’t want to leave. Maybe he’d like being that close to you. Maybe his heart would be beating as fast as yours is right…now.Oddly specific daydreams aside, he was crazier about Kurt than he’d ever been, but looking at him hurt. He handed the sweater over. “Here. I…it would bring out your eyes.” The selection of pants didn’t exactly jump out at him screaming Kurt’s name—metaphorically of course—although there was a nice bright yellow pair that he rather liked, but he settled on a slim, pale gray pair of dress jeans. “And…these? You’d probably punch me if I tried to guess your size, wouldn’t you?” He smiled and moved back to the shirts; ruling out the high collars and button-downs almost immediately. The long-sleeved shirt with a wide collar and black horizontal stripes was nice. It wouldn’t look too preppy under the sweater and hopefully wouldn’t clash with it. He unhooked one of the hangers and passed it to Kurt. Nothing in this store was quite dramatic enough for Kurt’s usual taste, but seeing him in something simpler, something softer could be a nice change. Maybe only sort of appreciating the clothes and mostly noticing Kurt, who was, well, beautiful… Or something like that. He really wasn’t the right person to convey ideas through outfits. Maybe he should start making a list of things not to think of, like holding hands and brushing noses and thumbs circling gently on hipbones and lips pressed just below a cautiously attentive ear. Maybe he could take a savage pleasure in how thorough he’d been, all the things he’d been certain not to dwell on, all the pleasant little pinpricks of exhilaration as he dragged up new things to shut out. Somehow, that felt very underhanded.[/blockquote][/SIZE][/ul] • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • [/color][/center] one word would end it [/color][/font] IF YOU EVER TEAR THE PAGE OUT THAT REMINDS ME
WHEN I SWORE THAT I’D BE STRONGnow the next time has come and gone[/center] word count. 1,432
lyrics. "It Only Hurts" - Default
notes. Sorry it took so long!
credit.La-La-Lia @ Caution. |
|
|
|
Post by KURT HUMMEL on Feb 1, 2012 22:35:00 GMT -6
EVERY TIME I SEE YOUR FACE ; I NOTICE ALL THE SUFFERING [/font][/b] just turn to my embrace, i won't let you come to [color=072a35[/color]nothing[/color][/size][/font][/center][/b][/i] • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
”My style is charming, Kurt. Charming and sexy.”
Kurt would swear against it, but he blushed about ten shades of red at that moment. He bit hard on his tongue, resisting the urge to blurt ’You don’t need the clothes to look like that, silly.’ Honestly, Blaine looked good. It was safe to say that Blaine was toned, at the least. Nobody could go through all of those 2-steps and shuffles that the Warblers were so amazing at without gaining a pretty slim body from it. Although they weren’t as vigorous as some of the New Direction’s numbers… they were always enough to get your blood pumping.
Was that too much? To think about Blaine in that way? Kurt blinked a few times and decided that no, it wasn’t, because he could think Blaine was hot without acting upon it. He had spent months fantasizing about Blaine’s lips grazing along his cheek, sliding across his collarbone… he tilted his head to the side and wondered exactly how that would feel. Sam wasn’t incredibly touchy-feely with him because being in a relationship with a guy was really a new thing, and it was different… Kurt was perfectly fine with going a little slower with Sam. Although, he couldn’t hold himself back from wondering what it would feel like to lean down just a fraction of an inch and kiss the tip of Blaine’s nose, and then press his cheek to the other boy’s and wrap his arms tightly around his torso, vowing to never let go.
Of course, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Kurt gazed down to his feet for a moment as they walked and let the slightest grin grace his face before looking back up to Blaine.”I’m afraid I can’t agree with that, mister. You sport the blazer far too much.” He hesitated for a moment before punching Blaine playfully in the arm and straightening up a bit. ”I still don’t know how you’ve managed to dance in that thing for so long – I only lasted a few months.” He chortled and rolled his eyes in a sarcastic-like way.
”If that’s really what you want to do, I think you’d be amazing.”
Kurt looked up to Blaine a little wide-eyed and smiled fondly. He had heard the same comments from many others before. Mostly family members because it was easily noticed that some people were a little cautious about his voice. Hearing that from Blaine actually made his mood skyrocket. Not that it was bad before, but it seemed like the awkwardness had finally vanished in his mind. ”Thank you.” He quipped lightly and folded his arms loosely across his chest. ”I could also see you pulling off the whole ’teenage heartthrob’ persona. You’re lead-singer-of-a-boy-band material.” Kurt snorted as he put emphasis on the teenage heartthrob part and raised his hands up to gesture air quotes. Blaine had the looks, and he most definitely had the talent.
“Sure you are. My offer still stands.”
Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine for probably the tenth time today and huffed a little. Blaine was so chivalrous sometimes it hurt. ”Well, in that case..” Kurt freed one of his arms from the weight of three pairs of jeans and tossed them over Blaine’s half-outstretched arm with a smirk. Blaine was always so willing to help out with anything, and sometimes Kurt couldn’t hold his snickers back. He wasn’t being contemptuous about it, but actually quite flattered. Honestly, Kurt was used to the whole ”I’m fine doing this by myself – I don’t need help”, and that usually caused people to back off. Blaine wouldn’t stop asking if help was needed until he was satisfied with an answer.
”You and your impeccable fashion sense are going to make me buy way more than I actually need.”
Kurt dropped an itchy-looking sweater he had been observing and looked over to Blaine, raising his eyebrows. ”You know that was the original plan, right?” He was joking, of course. Kurt wouldn’t care if Blaine didn’t buy anything Kurt dressed him in; window shopping was perfectly fine with him. Besides, hanging out with Blaine was always an enjoyable event for Kurt. Just as long as Kurt had his friend by his side for a few hours, he would be alright.
Kurt placed his hands on his hips and sat the clothes down on the table for a moment. He somehow turned a little bit too sharply because his shoe collided with the edge of the a pole which supported the edge of the table, and tripped. He made some odd, muffled scream and literally landed onto Blaine’s chest. He wrapped his arms around the surprised boy’s torso quickly because he would’ve somehow tipped over and fallen on the floor if he didn’t. Kurt tried not to notice how warm Blaine was, and the feeling of his own head tucked under Blaine’s chin. He slowly caught his footing and opened his eyes wide, finding himself level with Blaine’s mouth. He tilted his chin to the side and accidentally skimmed his lips along Blaine’s chin as his breath hitched.
”I-I..” He stuttered and his gaze flickered up to Blaine’s eyes, trying to search for some type of reaction in the few seconds that had gone by. He didn’t want to remove his arms. Blaine’s face was just so soft, and Kurt randomly wondered how it would feel to curl up on the couch with him and watch whatever the hell was on TV just because they could. His fingers were splayed across Blaine’s back, and he realized that he had been forcing Blaine to press against him. He straightened himself up and forcefully removed his arms from around Blaine, sticking them behind his back and glancing to the side while jumping back. ”I’m sorry-I.. I lost my footing.” His gaze moved to the floor and he bit the inside of his lip, stepping back to give Blaine some actual space.
“Here. I…it would bring out your eyes.”
Kurt stopped biting the bottom of his lip and his eyes lit up. ”Oh, yeah. You’re right – I’ll try that on.” He flashed his best grin and cleared his throat a little nonchalantly, trying to register what had just happened. ’God, I need to stop. This isn’t supposed to keep going on, I’m supposed to get over Blaine. Because I’m with Sam now. I’m with Sam.” He repeated in his head and tried not to frown. Why did everything right have to happen at the wrong time? ”I-Thank you. And no, I wouldn’t kill you. Unless you were a few-too-many sizes off.” He grinned and almost reached forward to pat Blaine on the shoulder, to obtain some type of physical contact again because he wanted it suddenly.
”Should we try these on?” He gestured to the pile of clothes draped over both Blaine’s arm, and the table that Kurt had sat the rest of the outfits on before he tripped. His skimmed the store, looking for a dressing room hidden among the racks of clothing. ”I’m pretty sure they’re right in the back..” He spoke, suddenly finding something else to concentrate on. He needed a distraction before he lept forward against his own will and wrapped himself around Blaine once more.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •[/center] WORDS! 1265 NOTES! </3 TAGS! Blainers. INSPIRATION! this  TEMPLATE CREDIT! Arro @ Caution 2.0[/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by BLAINE ANDERSON on Feb 10, 2012 4:30:40 GMT -6
( shop displays; near-lovers meet, )
I FEEL THE GRASP OF YOUR HAND STILL B E N T S O C L O S E W E N E A R L Y K I S S ;
A L T H O U G H W E N E V E R W I L L- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/color][/size][/font][/center] “I’m afraid I can’t agree with that, mister. You sport the blazer far too much. I still don’t know how you’ve managed to dance in that thing for so long – I only lasted a few months.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my blazer. At least it’s not plaid skirts and knee socks like Crawford. How long would you have lasted in those?” His lips twitched a little as he imagined all his friends in the Crawford uniform. Kurt would probably be the only one who could pull it off—if only because he had a knack for wearing the most outlandish things with confidence as long as they were turning heads. Not that he needed an outlandish ensemble to turn heads. He sighed. If this was a movie, there’d be more than enough shots of him accidentally watching Kurt while rifling aimlessly through clothes. Time to get in a few good, long Studiously Taking Note of the Sales shots.
Nope, not on sale.
“I could also see you pulling off the whole ’teenage heartthrob’ persona. You’re lead-singer-of-a-boy-band material.”
He grinned at the jeans he was Studiously Taking Note Of and shook his head, setting the clothes Kurt had handed him down on a display before moving on to sweaters, which were softer and more innately fascinating. “Screaming girls are not my thing.” Well, they sort of were. Attention was flattering. But not on a daily basis.
“You know that was the original plan, right?” Kurt quipped, and Blaine glanced up at him without meaning to, raising his eyebrows.
“You’ve got so many plans, I’ve given up trying to keep abreast of them. I’m just along for the ride,” he deadpanned, launching forward instinctively to catch Kurt’s waist as he fell, pulling him in. “Careful!” His heart leapt, and he shifted to hold the other boy up.
Kurt, for his part, latched onto him for dear life, and when his heartbeat had finally slowed at finding the other boy safe, it tripped and fell to pieces at the pressure of Kurt’s fingers splayed across his back.
(And he refused to think about Kurt leaning into him, about their bodies flush together, and wasn’t that lasting longer than it should have? Whose fault was it—Blaine and the tight circle of his arms on Kurt’s waist as he tilted back ever so slightly to support him, to let him fall against his chest—or Kurt, and his too-fierce, too-thrilling grip, and God how tense he was, probably a little shaken…)
“I’ve got you, alright?” Blaine murmured just above Kurt’s ear, trailing one hand up to rub gently, briefly at his shoulder blade. “You okay?”
Kurt raised his head, maybe to answer, and Blaine jerked his chin up immediately with a sharp intake of breath. It took him a moment to realize that he’d been startled by Kurt’s nose bumping his jaw (and ohgod that brief, feather-light touch that had to have been his lips). Oh my God. His heart took off and went tearing around the building, announcing to everyone in earshot that holy shit this was the closest its dear, virgin face had ever been to another boy’s and it was Kurt, who was, well, kind of important. He already knew he’d be replaying this moment constantly in his head and feeling hellishly ashamed every time.
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. There was nothing unusual in being a little flustered that an attractive boy had basically fallen on top of him. And Kurt wasn’t the only attractive boy in the universe, as vigorously as Blaine’s body—starting with his palms, which were warm and tingling and longing to gently massage Kurt’s back (wow, the boy was still so tense)–was campaigning to award him the title.
But that swoop of concern…the stab of something akin to panic…the flash of relief at finding Kurt secure in his arms…would he have felt that for anyone else? …The short answer was no. It’s the short answer because there’s no way to make it any less incriminating.
Blaine lowered his eyes again, slowly, lips parted slightly as if something acceptable would just fall out on its own.
“I—” Kurt’s blue eyes were enormous, and his eyelashes had never been notably thick or dark, so how close were they if he could make out every one of them…and Kurt’s gaze was rising to its normal level, still trained on his, and that was…He looked away hastily, swallowing hard, eyes flicking automatically to the other boy’s mouth. “Sorry!” he blurted, with a strained laugh. “Wow, I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for—that he could admit to, anyway—but he couldn’t leave it at just “wow.” Wow…because he’d never dreamed Kurt would look at him the way he…certainly hadn’t been looking at him, because that moment of electricity he’d imagined had been just that…imagination.
He wasn’t sure when it had sort of become a hug, but they were sort of hugging now, and it was sort of awful, because friends didn’t hug this tightly, and he’d have to loosen his arms, and if he loosened his arms, he’d have to acknowledge that he was, in fact, hugging Kurt just for the sake of hugging Kurt, which was too many levels of painful and embarrassing. He started to let go altogether and his stomach lurched as he accidentally locked eyes with an older shopper over Kurt’s shoulder. Her gaze was wary, maybe a little disgusted, and she reached down and grabbed her son’s arm before returning to a row of dresses. He was used to it, really, but for some reason, it still hurt.
Still trapped between the desire to sink through the floor and the rebellious wish that he and Kurt had committed the unspeakable acts of sexual depravity for which they were undoubtedly being judged, he realized that he’d kept a loose hold on Kurt’s arms in an unconscious attempt to keep him from turning around and let his hands drop, forcing a small smile.
“I’m sorry-I.. I lost my footing.”
“Yeah, I…Yeah, it’s alright.” More than alright in some ways, and so goddamned inconvenient in others.
“This is a safety hazard, you know.” Frowning, he dropped to his knees and examined the base of the offending clothing rack. It really didn’t leave enough room between two displays, if someone wasn’t looking. He pushed experimentally at it and rolled it back a few inches, hooking the wheel behind the leg of the display he’d been examining.
The hem of a polo shirt caught the top of his head as he straightened up, and he lifted his hand to push it away, returned to the sweater he’d dropped, stammered something about bringing out the color of Kurt’s eyes because he could not get them out of his head.
He hefted Kurt’s selections back into his arms, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, I think we’ve got enough.” Dropping his voice conspiratorially, he added, “If they’ve got an item limit, I’ll tell them half of it’s mine and smuggle it under your door, okay?”
He nudged Kurt’s arm with his elbow, suddenly longing to regain some of the contact he surely hadn’t fully appreciated a minute ago and shifted everything to his left arm so he could snag the pair of bright yellow pants he’d eyed earlier. Those would look okay with a leather jacket, right?
The dressing room, it turned out, did not have an item limit, but there was a sign reminding them to please hang everything up (he blinked, because he’d always kind of taken that responsibility for granted).
He glanced around for somewhere to set everything while he figured out what was his and what was Kurt’s and tried desperately not to think about having thought about kissing his friend in a dressing room earlier in the day, or the fact that kissing someone (someonesomeonesomeone) against a mirror would be even better—despite the fact that he hadn’t always found that idea insanely hot—just like he didn’t find Kurt insanely hot—or if he did, he definitely didn’t love him…
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
N E V E R G R O P E D F O R A C O N N E C T I O N
N E V E R H O P E D F O R M O R E A F F E C T I O N
I'M YOUR FRIEND, ONLY YOUR FRIEND
( I've no intention of confessing today ) [/i][/color][/font][/center][/size] |
|
|
|
Post by KURT HUMMEL on Feb 23, 2012 0:07:07 GMT -6
EVERY TIME I SEE YOUR FACE ; I NOTICE ALL THE SUFFERING [/font][/b] just turn to my embrace, i won't let you come to [color=072a35[/color]nothing[/color][/size][/font][/center][/b][/i] • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Kurt pursed his lips and directed his gaze up to the ceiling, pretending to think for a moment. ”Hmm. I’m sure I could pull the skirt off. I’ve sported a kilt before, you know?” He allowed a smile to twitch upon his lips while thinking about prom the last year. He had sewed the kilt himself for about three days, but didn’t end up wearing it. Instead, he rented himself a nice tux and had a pretty good time at the dance… minus the obviously drunk football players who walked by and asked him where his date was. It was such a low blow, especially for the occasion. He wondered why they were always so satisfied with bullying him, when they could be spending precious time trying to get into a girls pants or something. He made a mental note to bring that up next time someone slammed him into the lockers.
Kurt watched Blaine lay the clothes on the display, admiring the way that his lips curved up into a smile. ”Screaming girls are not my thing.” Kurt’s eyebrow shot up. ”Oh, really? You enjoyed ”Animal” last year, if I recall correctly.” He snickered and caught sight of himself in a mirror behind Blaine, trying to straighten his hair a little and contain his laughter. That whole performance was such a mess to clean up… Kurt really hadn’t taken a bubble bath since. He picked up a red, blue, and white striped t-shirt and considered it for a moment before adding it to his pile. ”Well,” He started, walking a little closer to Blaine in order to look at the price on a pair of jeans. ”I’m kind of playing this by ear, too.” He let his gaze linger on Blaine’s eyes, almost reluctantly, before looking back down to his feet and blushing a little.
”I’ve got you, alright?” Kurt held his breath and balled a fistful of Blaine’s shirt into his hand, feeling bad for being so clumsy. The way Blaine murmured that – just above his ear and rubbing his shoulder – made Kurt’s stomach loop up into a million knots. As he raised his head and his lips barely made contact with Blaine’s chin (which, was completely an accident… at least.. that’s what he told himself.), he remembered to breathe again. ”Uh… yeah,” He whispered, his voice either cracked or sounded strangled, he didn’t know. ”Fine… I’m fine..” God, why did Blaine’s breath have to ghost over his ear like that, sending shivers down his spine? He wasn’t growing angry at this situation, not at all. Just a little too perplexed as to what he actually felt for these two boys.
Two hours ago, he was positive that he had this situation under control. Screw that – two hours ago, he had decided not to tell Blaine. He closed his eyes and leaned into Blaine’s embrace, admiring the way his warm hands rubbed his timid back A small, almost squeaky laugh erupted from his mouth and he blushed, clearly embarrassed and in a slight state of shock. He frowned a little when Blaine started apologizing. ”No, it’s alright. You’re fine – thanks for catching me so quickly.” He reached forward for a moment, to touch Blaine’s arm as a kind gesture, but pulled back. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, still feeling the heat pooling in his face. His eyes widened, trying to comprehend what exactly had just happened, and why he felt that way. Of course, Blaine had confused the hell out of him since day one, so he probably wasn’t going to be able to see Blaine’s emotions right out in front of him.
”That’s a safety hazard, you know.”
His gaze snapped up to Blaine and he nodded in agreement. ”They shouldn’t cram so much merchandise into stores like these. Honestly, it makes them look a little… uninviting sometimes.” He shrugged, trying to get the tension to subside. He needed to think about other things, like clothing trends and prices, and what his budget needed to be because he didn’t want his Dad after him. No need to trigger another heart attack, he reminded himself. Kurt glanced around the store, trying to see if any employees were even working. Of course they would be, but he hadn’t really noticed any while they were there.
”…half of it’s mine and smuggle it under your door, okay?”
Kurt laughed when he caught the last part of Blaine’s hushed comment, nudging Blaine back a little too eagerly and suddenly feeling bad for making Blaine carry everything. ”Here, let me take some of those.” He grabbed a pair of jeans and a few t-shirts from the pile, hopefully lightening the load for Blaine. ”I’ll ask if we need a key or anything…” He said before walking to the register, finally spotting an employee. It was a younger woman, but she was a little older than Kurt. Or, at least, she seemed to be. He asked about a clothing limit or keys, because they usually required that in most stores, but she simply waved them on and said something about ”Only one person to a room.”, causing Kurt to blush furiously and stammer something along the lines of ”O-okay, got it. One person to a room – thanks.” before taking off to the dressing rooms.
When Blaine sat his small pile of clothes down, Kurt lay his on top and started pulling the things that were his aside. ”Okay, I think that’s all.” He smiled at the bright yellow pants Blaine was holding because of course he would pick something like that. ”Just… tell me when you’re dressed and we can tell each other what we think, alright?” He grinned and turned to walk into a larger dressing room. The small ones made him a bit claustrophobic sometimes, he had to admit… especially with the heaps of clothes he sometimes carried in with him.
He dressed in an outfit that he had picked out for himself first, intending on saving the outfit that Blaine had picked out for last. The jeans fit pretty nicely – they clung where they needed to, and the striped shirt made him look a little narrower than he actually was. He looked at himself in the mirror again for another long moment, wondering if he actually liked it or not. ”Maybe…” He turned and grabbed an interesting dark grey jacket/cardigan that looked pretty cool on the mannequins. Ah, that was it. Perfect.
”Okay, I’m done!” He said over the dressing rooms, only loud enough for Blaine to hear, before stepping out and looking into the 360 mirror.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •[/center] WORDS! 1103 NOTES! Sorry for any excessive flailing because of the gif. alkdfdjf. TAGS! Blaaaine! INSPIRATION! This amazing song.<3TEMPLATE CREDIT! Arro @ Caution 2.0[/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by BLAINE ANDERSON on Mar 3, 2012 2:10:17 GMT -6
( shop displays; near-lovers meet, )
I FEEL THE GRASP OF YOUR HAND STILL B E N T S O C L O S E W E N E A R L Y K I S S ;
A L T H O U G H W E N E V E R W I L L- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - [/color][/size][/font][/center] Feeling Kurt’s eyes on him, he glanced up, then decided he must have been mistaken because Kurt was absorbed in a rack of shirts. He feigned interest in the same pair of jeans he’d been considering for a while, suddenly self-conscious.
“Oh, really? You enjoyed ”Animal” last year, if I recall correctly.” Kurt had caught sight of himself in a mirror and started fiddling with his hair, and Blaine stifled a laugh because really, how cute was that? His nose was cute, especially when he wrinkled it, and those long fingers currently sweeping strands of hair into place were somewhere between “cute” and “unfairly sexy.” And then Blaine realized that he’d have to make a point of not thinking about all the ways he found Kurt Hummel endearing—not just blocking out the thoughts that would have embarrassed him even if Kurt hadn’t been someone else’s.
“Well, I mean, all the teenage boys in Westerville either hate me or know me so well they’ve ceased to be impressed,” he said lightly, thinking about his friends at Dalton and former friends at Westerville High. “I guess I’m more tolerable in…small quantities.”
…If this whole situation hadn’t been so damn confusing, he’d probably be at that giddy-heady stage of his crush where he wanted to whirl around his room holding his pillow and just hope, because wow—he liked someone, and that wasn’t an emotion that he was used to experiencing on a daily basis. He’d gotten excited over his feelings for guys before, because there was a chance he might have an honest-to-goodness boyfriend who was handsome and kind…but why did Kurt have to be so much more? Why did Kurt have to be made up little, specific, personal things like the shape of his mouth and the gentleness in his voice and the way he adjusted his hair? It wasn’t getting over Kurt; it was getting over the ten thousand perfections and imperfections he’d fallen in love with.
“Well I’m kind of playing this by ear, too.”
“Really? Oh, come on, Kurt…don’t shatter all my illusions,” he groaned, breaking into a laugh that softened into an easy smile. …Oh. What was that? His stomach flipped ever so slightly as his eyes met Kurt’s, and the tentative curiosity pooling in his stomach slipped into his expression, widening his eyes and parting his lips. There had always been moments when their gazes locked just…so and they broke off mid-conversation—but he’d never thought about them before.
”Uh… yeah. Fine… I’m fine…”
“Good,” Blaine mumbled, smiling a little. There was a brief flash of warmth in the pit of his stomach at hearing Kurt say he was alright—even though he’d already known. It occurred to him that he should stop the lazy, almost reflexive movement of his fingertips on Kurt’s back. He really just wanted to calm his friend down, but if he got too creepy or something, he’d have the opposite effect without even having thought about it. He broke off the light caress and flattened his palm.
He strove desperately for the decency to not feel so…pleased by the weight Kurt’s head on his shoulder. God, he wanted to run his fingers through the other boy’s hair; it was gorgeous. And it probably took forever to style in the morning, which meant interference wouldn’t be appreciated; plus, of course, he couldn’t come up with a suitable platonic context for running his fingers through Kurt’s hair—just like there was no platonic context in which he could reach out and tip Kurt’s chin up and kiss softly at that bottom lip that was just…
God, his heart was pounding just on account of being close to the other boy. He was suddenly painfully aware of his own inexperience. Kurt wasn’t reacting like this; Kurt didn’t feel like this about their proximity…about him. He almost flinched.
Maybe if he was taller, more muscular, straighter hair, wider eyes… He put effort into his appearance, yeah. But he rarely considered whether he was…attractive. He really couldn’t judge. The face that appeared in the mirror every morning just looked like…itself. He was satisfied with it. He wondered how Kurt liked it, if there was something about it he could fix. Or maybe he should try being different. Braver? More considerate? Football instead of fencing?
Just to see. He’d already made the decision not to pressure Kurt to change his mind. He wouldn’t hope for anything major, just…well, if he was more what Kurt wanted, maybe he’d be more…wanted. In a general sense.
They’d hugged before, but this…holding him like this was inappropriate, was unacceptable, was…wonderful. Especially because Kurt wasn’t crying into his shoulder. On those very rare occasions, he’d been far too concerned to consider whether or not their position was compromising. (He was always wary of touching people who were upset—Kurt in particular, because Kurt was such an incredibly strong, independent person and he didn’t want to come across as patronizing—but once or twice he’d just had to.)
…Wonderful. He sighed, an admission of defeat. Maybe it was time to accept that he had feelings for Kurt, accept that it was driving him crazy, and dedicate himself wholeheartedly to the task of covering that up. Cognitively, he knew it really wasn’t ideal to be around the other boy right now. Part of him—the part that kept scolding him and demanding to know what the hell he was doing—began churning out helpful excuses to leave. However, the path of least resistance, resting his cheek against Kurt’s hair, won him over for the moment—like promising that he’d really start studying for Calculus…but tomorrow. At first metaphorical glance, it seemed like a pretty useless promise, but it succeeded in tinging every wasted moment with guilt.
“No, it’s alright. You’re fine – thanks for catching me so quickly.”
“Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” he said, echoing Kurt’s strained laugh. …He’d meant it as a joke. It hadn’t sounded like a joke. Oh, God.
The prominent flush on Kurt’s cheeks as he returned from asking about keys made Blaine smile perplexedly. “What?” The “aww” was there, unvoiced though it was—an unwanted, warm lilt to the question. Time to add “Kurt blushing” to his blacklist of endearing things.
As he latched the door of his stall and hung up the few items he’d picked out, he sighed and stared morosely down at his shoes. He’d always hated trying on clothes because he’d have to take his shoes off, and for some reason, he’d always found that a hassle. The tennis shoes were ultimately kicked off after he’d determined that, no, his jeans were not going to come off over them. They weren’t even tight jeans. The yellow pair he was currently buttoning were a bit more form-fitting, and he consoled himself with the knowledge that he definitely wouldn’t have gotten those on without removing his shoes when Kurt called out that he was finished.
He rolled his eyes a little, reminding himself to find Kurt something a little more complicated in the next store. Of course the boy was already done; he considered knee-high lace-up boots and absurdly complex vests normal, everyday wear.
Blaine tugged his t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. …Oh, God, Kurt had probably folded his clothes and he was still faster. Not fair. It wasn’t like Blaine was slow…he’d developed a habit of dressing and undressing rapidly with his eyes fixed downward—one too many locker room insinuations that he was looking. (God, like he’d even been attracted to anyone in that hellhole of a gym class at Westerville. He’d once pointed out, voice shaking, that he wasn’t the one who went around grabbing and shoving people when they were half-dressed. It hadn’t been the best idea.) Then again, Kurt had probably been through all that as well.
He glanced over at the rest of the clothes he’d brought into the dressing room—the ones Kurt had suggested and one more pair of jeans. That gray t-shirt would just look…off with these pants. He could have sworn he’d picked up something more dressy-casual—or maybe he’d forgotten in the wake of the lightheadedness had overtaken him after he’d broken Kurt’s fall.
He cracked the door open and scanned for Kurt, figuring there would be no harm in asking. “Hey, do you have any other shirts? Maybe a polo shirt? I…only have the first one you gave me,” he admitted, sticking his head around the door at an angle and clinging to it so that only his arm and shoulder were visible. “Oh, hey,” he added, suddenly distracted. “You look good. I, um…” Come on, be polite, name one thing that you like…
…I like your neck. Your breathtaking, kissable, perfect neck. “Um. It’s good. Really good.” Suddenly embarrassed, he ducked his head.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
N E V E R G R O P E D F O R A C O N N E C T I O N
N E V E R H O P E D F O R M O R E A F F E C T I O N
I'M YOUR FRIEND, ONLY YOUR FRIEND
( I've no intention of confessing today ) [/i][/color][/font][/center][/size] |
|
