i love to spread positivity and light!!!! i love making someone's day or helping their journey through life become a little easier. if i make your day better, that is a victory for me and i couldn't be happier. i love you all so much.
28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.
Oh wow, this is hard. Three???
The first that comes to mind is Rainjoy because I love her characterisations of Kurt and Blaine and their relationship in general. She writes Kurt so well! Everything is always so in character and her writing style is gorgeous.
Second, daswarschonkaputt. I think she is one of the most underrated writers in this fandom seriously, everyone should go check out her writing. I fell in love with it started out with a kiss (how did it end up like this?) because the plot is fantastic and her writing is spot on (especially for Blaine) and it's one of my favourite fics ever! I would list basically all of her fics here and tell you how much I love them. I literally cannot stress enough how much you should read her fics because they are all so beautiful and amazing, I could go on for hours talking about them! Go read them all, you won't regret it I promise!
Thirdly, the amazing Kayla (holdingdaylight / colfergust). Her fics literally make me squeal and die a little inside because they're so amazing. Her Heartstrings verse is literally one of the best things I've ever read. The way she writes is so so beautiful and literally makes me cry. Also, her new fic The Air That I Breathe is so gorgeous I cried a lot, read it!!
Okay I was supposed to do three, but I'm gonna list a few more because of reasons; princehummel because of her fic the colour of souls (oh boy that's amazing), chatterboxrose, scentofsummerain/colfhummel and inkystars because I reread Endymion Fell the other day and holy hell, it's so amazing.
{inspired by moonrise kingdom} After meeting at a church in the summer of 1965, two teenage boys make a pact, run away together and fall in love. // AO3 ~ 7k+ [notes: because elsa got me to watch moonrise kingdom and we basically headcanoned a klaine fic as we watched it. also, you don't have to have seen the film to understand this fic.]
i.
The air is still as the sun beams shine brightly across the meadow, the long dulled green grass barely moving and the tall, rustic windmill stands still in the absence of wind. The only sounds to be heard are the quiet, quiet rustling of the leaves on the trees on the surrounding perimeter and the louder crunch, crunch, crunch of the grass and leaves being squashed underneath feet; the sound deafening in the silent atmosphere.
And there, in a empty meadow stands two boys one hundred yards apart. There’s a boy scout in his green uniform, badges plastered all over along with a small crest on the arm; a navy blue shield with an artistic D inside. His yellow neck scarf is trapped underneath the bulging backpack, looking like it’s about to burst as it’s packed to the brim. A bronze compass is draped around his neck and a brown, leather case holding a water bottle is slung over his shoulder. Dark brown curls are peeking from underneath a large, furry, brown hat perched on his head with it’s tail dangling down by the side of his face, almost touching the dark, thick frames sitting atop his nose.
The other boy stands there in matching shorts reaching just above the knee and a shirt with three-quarter length sleeves. It’s an outfit entirely of pink barring the stark white of the collar and the folded white of the end of the shirt’s sleeves. He has a set of black binoculars sitting around his neck and a wicker basket, the strap slung across his body. In one hand is a brilliant blue record player along with a red tartan satchel and by his feet sits a dull, mustard yellow suitcase.
The two boys look up and catch each other’s gaze, small smiles spreading across both of their faces immediately. There’s a quiet meow, ringing through the field and the boy scout squints his eyes, smiling even brighter; “Is that a cat in there?”
The other boy nods, the smile now giddy as his eyes glisten with happiness with the suitcase in his hand as he walks forward closer and closer and closer.
“Can you read a map?”
The cat meows and the boy shrugs. “Never tried.”
“That’s okay,” the boy-scout says, “I can teach you.”
They’re face to face now, and they both look shyly away.
“Hello, Kurt Hummel,” the boy scout says, his eyes wide, as he holds the flowers in his hands out directly in front of him.
Kurt’s eyes grow bright as he realises the flowers are for him; setting his suitcase down he plucks them from the hands softly, and holds them to his nose. “They don’t smell,” Kurt says and the boy shrugs; “But that’s okay. They’re pretty enough that I can imagine their scent and I believe that if they did have a smell, they would smell beautiful.”
The other boy grins, the motion lighting up his face and subsequently Kurt’s; “Are you ready to go?”
Kurt nods his head. “With you, Blaine Anderson, always.”
Blaine grabs the dull yellow suitcase from by Kurt’s feet after giving Kurt the map tucking into his shirt pocket. As Kurt unfolds the map, Blaine tries to explain and help Kurt to understand it. They start making their way through the tall grass and into the dark trees with only spots of sunlight breaking through the gaps in leave, shining bright and looking like magic.
+
It’s in a church that it starts, in the summer of 1965; pews filled to the brim with people, flowers and candles decorating the aisle. The crowd is humming along with the song the small brunette girl is belting from the stage - her voice magnificent and sending chills through Blaine’s spine. But his attention is elsewhere - on glimmering, bright blue eyes, hidden under the black headwear of a bird. He follows the movements of the boy as he flies his way around the stage in a dance and singing back-up.
As Blaine watches, his heart beats erratically and his breath comes out in short bursts as butterflies shoot around his stomach.
By the intermission, his head in spinning and he can’t get the image of those eyes out of his head, so he sneaks away from his scout group, ducking behind the pews making his way backstage.
He knows he won’t be missed.
Blaine squeezes his way through a costume rack, emerging on the other side to a group of girls and a boy sitting in the middle. They’re all in front of the mirror in quiet whispers as they draw their eyes black and their lips red.
He takes a breath before clearing his throat.
They all turn at once and Blaine’s breath catches as his gaze connects with his. There he is. The one with the glistening blue eyes.
“What kind of bird are you?” He asks, his gaze never faltering.
“I’m a sparrow,” the brunette with the amazing voice says, pointing down the line; “She’s a dove-”
“No,” Blaine says, his eyes still caught on the boy’s. “What kind of bird,” he asks, “are you?”
And he knows that the boy understood with the way his eyes grew slightly wider in realisation. There’s a short pause and both boys hold their breath before; “I’m a blackbird.”
“Boys aren’t allowed in here,” the sparrow grumbles as she looks at Blaine pointedly.
Blaine’s eyebrows furrow in confusion; “He’s a boy,” he says, motioning towards the blackbird.
“I’m an exception,” the boy says and a small spreads across his face and Blaine can’t help but think that that is the saddest smile he’s ever seen. “You should go.”
“Ok,” Blaine says, taking one last look at the boy before stepping back through the costumes of feathers and glitter.
He doesn’t get far back down the corridor when he hears footsteps racing behind him and he smiles as he turns; “Write me,” the boy says, handing Blaine a piece of paper and by the time Blaine’s unfolded it; he’s gone.
All that’s left is a name; Kurt Hummel, and a memory.
+
“Dear Kurt, you have a superb voice even if I could only hear it in harmonies, but you also have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Please find enclosed -”
“Dear Blaine, thank you very much. I got replaced as the blackbird because there were complaints that - ”
“Dear Kurt, I don’t think anyone else could play the blackbird as well as you. I’m sorry people treat you like that, they don’t understand -”
“Dear Blaine, you are an excellent composer. I played ‘The Scout and the Blackbird’ on my father’s piano. I particularly enjoyed -”
“Dear Kurt, I’m trying to do what you said and make friends with my fellow Warbler Scouts but I am scared that they don’t like me and -”
“Dear Blaine, no one at my school likes me and I’m scared my dad will find out. Do you have any methods of covering bruises because -”
“Dear Kurt, I am sorry you are scared of your dad, but I am sure he still loves you. That is the most important thing, if -”
“Dear Blaine, even if I don’t believe it, it’s comforting to think of your parents watching over you and protecting you. You should think of them everyday and -”
“Dear Kurt, here is my plan -”
“Dear Blaine, my answer is yes -”
“Dear Kurt, when -”
“Dear Blaine, where -”
“Dear Kurt, I will meet you in the meadow. Yours, Blaine.”
+
“I wish I had been able to bring the piano,” Kurt says as they sit cross-legged in the middle of their camp with the record player between them. Their yellow tent is pitched under the canopy of trees, surrounded by fallen leaves and sparse patches of grass. Twigs and rocks underneath them isn’t as comfortable as Kurt had imagined, but it’s enough.
Enough to help Kurt remember how to breathe again. He’s so glad to be away from the strong arms of the football players in his school who like to throw him around and away from the judgemental eyes of the entire student body as they laugh and giggle and spread rumours (however true) that he hasn’t even told anyone about.
So he sits there on that old rug they have spread over the rocks by the sea where Blaine had taught him to catch fish and where Kurt had caught Blaine before he fell into the dark waters below. He sits and breathes and when Blaine looks over to see him smiling, the smile shining as bright as the sun glistening in the sky and thinks to himself that that smile is the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen.
“Why?” Blaine asks.
“So that I can see if you are as beautiful playing as your compositions are,” Kurt says, smiling shyly as he looks down at the ground; “Also, I want to sing to you as you play.”
Blaine smiles up at Kurt from under his eyelashes and reaches over to tangle his fingers with Kurt’s. He watches as Kurt’s eyes flicker up to Blaine’s in surprise but Blaine just keeps the smile on his face as he says, “One day, Kurt Hummel, we will.”
Kurt forgets how to breath for a split second but then he turns his palm upright, and tightens his fingers around Blaine’s in an act of affection.
Blaine sits back up straight, one hand tangled with Kurt’s, a huge grin spreading across his face, brightening his round, hazel eyes in the sunlight; “So, tell me what you brought with you?”
“Why?”
“So I can get to know you even better than I already do,” he replies as if it’s obvious.
Kurt leans away, missing the warmth of Blaine’s hand in his as he grabs his yellow suitcase and his bag, dragging them over.
“So, obviously, there’s my cat,” there’s a loud meow from the tent where she’s sitting and Kurt smiles at her, “But you’ve already met her.”
As he opens the suitcase, he reveals books upon books and looks sheepishly up at Blaine. “These are my anthologies and books of poetry,” Kurt says, watching as Blaine carefully picks one up, “My mom gave me that one.”
“It must be special to you, then,” Blaine says, placing it carefully back amongst all the other books.
“Yeah,” Kurt says, a sad smile spreads across his face so Blaine leans over and rests a hand on his knee in comfort.
“It’s okay to be sad, you know.”
“I know,” Kurt replies, “I just don’t like it.”
Blaine nods, not moving his hand until Kurt moves to open up his satchel to pull out the first few items; “I brought a comb, some spare batteries, my mini sewing kit-”
“Why?”
“If I rip this outfit, I don’t have a spare,” Kurt says, shrugging. “Also, I would like my clothes to stay in good condition.”
“You like clothes?” Blaine asks.
“Of course,” Kurt replies, tucking the kit back into his satchel, “I like to look good.”
“Why?”
“It makes me feel better.”
“Oh,” Blaine says, “Are you depressed?”
“I don’t think so,” Kurt replies, “I just get sad sometimes.”
“Why’s that?”
“Here,” Kurt shrugs, as he pulls a black leaflet out of his satchel, holding it up for Blaine to read: Coping With The Very Troubled Child. “My dad got it from school one day when I almost got suspended because I was thrown in the dumpster and late to class - they thought I skipped. I found it on the fridge the day after.”
Blaine’s lips turn up into a smile and a small bout of laughter breaks free. Kurt’s face drops in surprise; “Are you-” he begins, “Are you laughing at me?”
Blaine doesn’t say anything as Kurt gets up and storms into the tent, the leaflet still in his hand. It’s a few minutes before Kurt hears the rustling from outside and then the tent moving as a body squeezes in next to his. “I’m sorry,” Blaine says, “I didn’t mean to laugh.”
Kurt huffs, looking away from Blaine and outside, where the sun is starting to set.
“It’s just,” Blaine starts, “Kurt,” he says, lightly brushing the edge of Kurt’s jaw with his fingertips, getting his attention, “Your dad obviously cares, Kurt.”
“How do you know?” Kurt says, slowly turning his head to face Blaine, the fingertips running across his skin.
“He wants to help you, Kurt,” Blaine says, his eyes wide as he stressed his point, “Don’t you see that?”
“But, why?” Kurt asks, his breath hitching; “Why would he want to help me? Especially once he finds out what I am! How I’m sick and not worth the space on this planet; how I don’t like girls like the bible says but I like boys , Blaine.” Tears are threatening to fall from Kurt’s eyes as he tries to take deep breaths; “I am a homosexual and it’s not right.”
“Kurt,” Blaine says, softly, his own eyes glistening with wetness; “There is nothing, I repeat, there’s is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
Kurt shakes his head, ignoring Blaine’s words as tears fall from his cheeks, dripping from his chin. Blaine lifts his hands gently, framing Kurt’s face with them, before brushing the tears away slowly with his thumbs, the barely of touch on Kurt’s skin as if he may break at any moment. “There is.”
“No,” Blaine says, his touch getting stronger, more certain; “What’s wrong with love?”
Kurt eyes grow wide and he doesn’t respond so Blaine sighs, pulling Kurt close and wrapping his arms tight around his neck. Kurt rests his head in the crook of Blaine’s neck, breathing in the sweet scent of earth and flowers and nature.
Blaine feels Kurt’s shoulders drop and his breath on his neck so he says; “So, are you going to read me some of those poems?”
He feels Kurt nod against his neck and they pull away slowly and Kurt looks down at the ground, before looking up into the hazel iris’ of Blaine’s eyes; “Thank you.”
+
“Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.”
And Kurt reads and reads, his back resting against a tree with the book propped up on his folded knees, his crystal clear voice ringing through the air like a song. It flows perfectly, punctuated and articulate as if this is what he was born to do. The summer air is a warm breeze, carrying Kurt’s voice across the dark waters.
And Blaine listens and listens, laying down with his head almost touching Kurt’s leg, watching the stars above shining brilliantly as they twinkle in the black, night sky. He feels at home, here, in a forest in the middle of the night as he listens to a now-familiar voice lull him to sleep.
He thinks to himself, as he lets Kurt’s voice and the words of poets wash over him, that maybe, just maybe, this is what love is.
+
They both wake in the early hours of the morning with the rising sun, slick with sweat in the humidity of the tent. It’s bleary eyes and sleep-ruffled hair as they yawn as stretch before making their way out of the tent. Blaine trips as he catches the edge of the tent and Kurt automatically holds out an arm for Blaine to hold onto.
They laugh as Blaine blames it on the early morning and that he hasn’t woken up properly yet. Packing up their camp doesn’t take long once they have woken up and eat the rest of their leftover dinner from the previous night for breakfast.
By the time they set off, the sun has fully risen in the sky, shining brightly and causing sweat to drip down the backs of their necks as they make their way further and further into the forest and towards their destination.
Blaine tries to explain the map once again as they walk and Kurt tries to understand but he’s much better with words. So he nods his head and agrees with everything Blaine says. Their hands brush against one another; their skin prickling as they do. They both ignore it and keep moving, keep walking as the sun rises higher and they get closer and closer to their destination (and each other).
+
Kurt watches as Blaine sets up their tent again, this time on a wooden platform in the middle of a cove. He stands by the shore, the sand sticking to his feet as the water washes over his feet every second.
He’s happy to watch - happy to see the way Blaine’s muscles moves under his shirt and watch him as he assembles the structure. Kurt knows he’ll slow it down if he tries to help, so instead he stands with his cat perched on the crook of one arm and a book in the other hand, the sun high in the sky, beaming across the bright blue waters.
He reads aloud, above the crashing of the waves around his feet;
“here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”
Kurt doesn’t look up until he’s finished reading (even though he’s read it a hundred times before) because he loves the way it looks and the way it’s printed. And now, standing here, the words mean to much more.
When he looks up, it’s to see Blaine finished building their camp, his hat thrown in the tent along with his backpack. His sleeves are rolled above his elbows as he jumps down from the platform, walking towards Kurt.
“That sounded beautiful,” Blaine says, a blush covering his cheeks and Kurt knows that he knows that Kurt was reading it both to him and about him.
So Kurt just shrugs, looking over at Blaine with the hint of a smile on his face causing Blaine to grin a contagious smile as Kurt lets the kitten free from his arms and she runs back into her basket.
A mischievous glint sparkles in Blaine’s eyes and Kurt takes a step backwards, almost tripping backwards into the water. “Woah,” Blaine says, grabbing Kurt’s waist, and pulling him closer, “Wouldn’t want you getting wet, would we?”
Kurt squeals as he realises what Blaine’s about to do; “No! Blaine, please,” he laughs as Blaine lifts him into a fireman carry.
“Wait!” He shouts, eyes closed tight; “Let me put my book down!”
Blaine’s eyes go wide as he lowers Kurt down onto the rocky sand, away from the water; “Wha-” he begins, watching as Kurt begins to untuck his shirt from his shorts, popping the buttons as he lets the shorts fall to the floor in a heap. He ducks his head, not looking at Blaine as he bends down to grab the shorts and put them in the tent along with his book.
The shirt covers his boxers, Blaine only able to see glimpses of black fabric underneath. With his back turned to Blaine, Kurt pulls the shirt over his head, leaving him in only his boxer-briefs, the black material clinging to his body and Blaine can’t help but stare.
“Ready,” Kurt says, shrugging, a blush covering his cheeks as Blaine stares.
Blaine surges forward, touching Kurt’s face gently, tracing his cheekbones, looking into the depth of his crystal blue eyes; “You’re beautiful.”
He takes a small step backwards, unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall open against his chest and Kurt takes a deep breath. He watches as Blaine throws the shirt into the tent and soon along with his trousers.
It’s then, that Blaine picks Kurt up, but in a bridal carry this time, and he runs towards the water, Kurt shouting and laughing as they go. Until Blaine trips when he’s waist deep, causing the both of them to fall under the water in a tangle of limbs.
As they both come up for air, gasping for breath and shivering slightly at the cold, they both have matching wide smiles plastered across their faces as they splash around in the water, laughing.
And Blaine knows for sure, this time, as the sun beams bright on the back of his neck, that this is what love is.
+
The sit on the rocks above their camp, overlooking the vast, empty sea as the sun begins to set, the sky a mixture of orange hues. Kurt’s legs are crossed, a book resting there as he reads the poems and Blaine listens from where he’s perched behind Kurt, up on his knees as he rests a daisy crown on the top of Kurt’s head. They’re back in their clothes, the cool air causing too many shivers.
Kurt reads, his voice melodic and songlike as he voices the words that aren’t his own. The sounds floating through the air, the crashing of the waves, dulled in the distance. He sits down, happy with the placement of the crown on Kurt’s head and he thinks that if there is anyone that deserves a crown, it’s Kurt.
He rests his back against Kurt’s, feeling the faint thrum of the vibration as Kurt reads;
“This lunar beauty
Has no history
Is complete and early,
If beauty later
Bear any feature
It had a lover
And is another.
This like a dream
Keeps other time
And daytime is
The loss of this,
For time is inches
And the heart's changes
Where ghost has haunted
Lost and wanted.
But this was never
A ghost's endeavor
Nor finished this,
Was ghost at ease,
And till it pass
Love shall not near
The sweetness here
Nor sorrow take
His endless look.”
Blaine looks up at the merging colours in the cloudless sky; “That’s beautiful.”
“It’s sad, Blaine,” Kurt says, as he flicks the page over, the sound loud in the quiet atmosphere.
“It’s still beautiful,” Blaine says, his head resting against Kurt’s, dark black curls tangling with short brown hair, contrasting. Blaine turns his head, looking over his shoulder at Kurt and loses his breath; forgets how to breathe as his heart beats erratically in his chest.
The setting sun in the horizon is casting a golden light over Kurt, his profile dark as he looks down as he’s reading. His cheekbones are highlighted and his eyes reflecting the orange and yellows of the sun. Blaine remembers how to breathe, catches his breath just so he can say; “You’re beautiful.”
A dark red blush spreads across Kurt’s cheeks and Blaine feels himself falling that much further in love. “Thank you,” Kurt replies, his voice soft, moving a hand so that it covers Blaine’s, their gaze catching in the soft light.
Blaine’s stare is intense, a fire burning behind those eyes as Kurt’s shine and sparkle, his heart fluttering - feeling like it’s about to take off.
“I still think that poem is beautiful,” Blaine says, “Even if it is sad, there’s a beautiful kind of sadness to it.”
Kurt furrows his eyebrows; “I love you, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He doesn’t even think - doesn’t have to think. It’s in the blink of an eye that he replies, before the panic begins to filter into Kurt’s eyes; “I love you, too.”
+
In the darkness of the night sky with their feet covered in sand as they try to avoid the stones and rocks buried underneath, they stand in front of their tent by the crashing waves as the music from Kurt’s record player plays loudly in the silence of the night.
Their hands are clasped as they dance together to an upbeat song, laughing as they drag each other round in circles - gasping for breath. Blaine spins Kurt under his arm before Kurt dips Blaine and they almost fall over, together.
Their giggling and laughter is louder than the music so they dance out of time, prancing and leaping, sand flicking up from their feet as they move with the occasional splash from the waters edge.
The song transitions into another, and they slow down. Blaine’s arms grasped tight on Kurt’s waist with Kurt’s draped over Blaine’s shoulders as they sway to the music. They can feel the cold water splashing up against their feet as the waves crash with varying strengths; and the only other sound to be heard is their breathing.
They’re standing close as the music plays in the background, skin on skin as they dance on the spot. Their gaze meets and they both lose their footing for a moment, standing still as Kurt’s eyes twinkle in the night as they slowly inch forward.
There’s an electricity buzzing around them, sizzling as if a single spark could set it all of.
(It does.)
Blaine pulls Kurt closer by the waist, and Kurt tilts his head so that their lips can meet. The soft press of lips on lips is all it takes for the sparks to fly as they dance together.
And for once in his life, Kurt doesn’t think - he just acts. Opening his mouth slightly, letting Blaine press his tongue forwards. They tilt their heads, pressing deeper and deeper, and closer and closer.
All Kurt wants is Blaine. Everywhere.
And he is - covering all of his senses; on his touch as Kurt tangles his fingertips into the curls on the nape of Blaine’s neck, pulling his face closer even still - feeling the touch of his eyelashes against his cheek and wonders if Blaine can feel the same. (He can.)
Blaine’s all he can smell, that sweet scent of earth and flowers and the salt from the sea. He can taste the rich juice from the berries they picked on their hike down to this cove on Blaine’s tongue as they tangle and wind together in a delicate dance.
The music has finished but they keep on kissing and kissing, neither wanting to stop; wanting to soak in this moment. Wishing it could last forever as their lips press closer, Kurt’s hands now framing Blaine’s face, his touch precious and soft, but firm as he pull him in.
Under the shining, bright stars in the night sky with water crashing at their feet, there are two boys; one still in a scout uniform missing the neck scarf and another in a matching pink outfit. Their lips dance as they fall deeper and deeper, trying their best to live in this moment forever despite knowing that it won’t. But they don’t worry and focus on the present - on what’s happening now and just live in their own magical world for the time being.
ii.
Kurt doesn’t sleep.
He sits awake all night sitting on the bench by his window with his knees tucked up to his chest. The yellow suitcase is sitting in the middle of the floor, along with the record player, his satchel and the basket.
Kurt startles as there’s a soft meow before a thump as the kitten lands on the bench. She pushes her head into Kurt’s hands from where they’re draped over his knees and he instinctively curls his hand up to stroke her.
He sighs as tears drip from his chin and stares out into the darkness; his chest aching with longing and his head spinning with fear.
For a fleeting moment he wonders if it was worth it.
But then the moment is gone and he doesn’t even think before he answers himself because, yes, of course it was.
+
The moment they get into the campsite, Blaine crawls into his tent; flopping onto his bed, flinging an arm over his eyes and tries to pretend that there aren’t tears there - that the wetness on his arm is from the sea splashing up from the side of the boat.
He waits there, waits to be called out and to be lectured by Wes, their scout leader, but it never comes. So he stays there, in his bed until he falls asleep - exhaustion from their days of hiking catching up to him.
He dreams of late night swims, dancing in the sand and that melodic voice ringing out in the darkness; making Blaine’s heart beat just that tiny bit faster in his sleep as he remembers.
+
His dad hasn’t said a word to him since they were found in their tent early in the morning. His dad with a shocked expression on his face standing in front of them with Scout Leader Wes standing next to him just as surprised.
There has been no interaction, even as they sit at the same table at breakfast, Kurt nibbling on his toast as his dad reads his newspaper.
All of a sudden, Kurt gets up - his chair scraping and screeching loudly against the tiled floor.
Kurt’s dad doesn’t even look up.
+
The morning is the same as every morning; sitting at the long wooden table underneath the large oak tree, between Thad and Jeff. Wes sits in the center - reading the paper as the boys around whisper as they eat.
The only difference is their short, darting gazes, staring at Blaine. He shakes it off as he eats his food and pretends that everything is okay - that everything is normal.
+
In the bright, early morning sun, Kurt steps outside, his head reeling as the weather outside contrasts so deeply with the feelings inside his heart. He has a book in his hand and he paces the garden as his eyes skim over it, before he starts to read, his voice starting in a soft whisper;
“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”
+
“Why don’t you like me?” Blaine asks, as the boys crowd around him, the questions on their tongue halted when Blaine speaks.
The boys mumble and splutter before Nick speaks; “We don’t - we didn’t.”
“But you do now?” Blaine says, a sad smile spreading across his face. “Why?”
“Because -” the boy stutters, not knowing how to respond.
+
Kurt keeps reading; his voice growing stronger and louder as he paces along the grass, leaves crunching underneath his feet and he fails to notice the open window above him and the fluttering curtain;
“The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.”
+
“Why?” Blaine repeats.
“I -” Nick stutters, “I don’t know, because we’re supposed to and because you’re wrong.”
“I’m wrong,” Blaine says; mostly to himself, taking a deep breath and looking up at the sky, and tries to take himself back to those precious moments with Kurt. (It doesn’t work.)
+
“I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”
+
“But why don’t you like me?” Blaine says, his voice growing frantic.
“Because -”
Blaine cuts in; “Is it because of who I am?” The boys recoil at the outburst, looking at each other in confusion. “Because I’m diseased?!”
The boys shake their heads frantically, watching as Blaine’s eyes fill with tears.
+
Kurt’s voice grows in volume as he recites, frantically reading the words, passion coating every syllable;
“God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.”
His eyes begin flow with tears at the last few words and he takes a breather as the tears fall from his overflowing eyes, running tracks down his cheeks and off of his chin.
+
“I don’t want to be diseased!” Blaine shouts at them; “You think I asked for this? For my parents to die and for me to grow up wrong and unhappy. To grow up different to everyone else because of who I love and because of who I am.”
Nick steps forward, but Blaine throws an arm out to stop him; “I’m just in love, don’t you understand?” He wipes the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes, smudging the tears across his face; “We’re in love and we just want to be together. What’s wrong with that?”
+
Kurt’s shouting by now; the tears are streaming down his face as his father watches in from the kitchen - his face full of a multitude of emotions but Kurt’s too busy drowning himself that he doesn’t see;
“I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”
+
“I think,” Blaine says, wiping his eyes of tears, “I think people forget that I’m still human.” He shrugs; “They forget that I have feelings too, just like them.”
“Blaine,” Jeff, a blond-headed scout, says, “We didn’t realise.”
“I know,” Blaine says; “No one ever does. But it’s okay.”
“Why?”
“Because I met Kurt,” Blaine says, his eyes dry; “He helped me learn how to love myself and even if, all along, we knew we would only get a few days together at most, if that’s all we could get, well, I was sure as hell going to take it.”
+
“I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.”
He closes his eyes, and lets the book drop to the ground, standing still as he breathes; the last line he knows off my heart, he’s analysed every word, every letter for years, but it’s only now that he understands it. That he truly gets it and feels his heart breaking in his heart;
“(I think I made you up inside my head.)”
Maybe he did, maybe it was all a dream because there is no way that Blaine is real - that Blaine exists. And there is no proof, except the memories in his head and the sand in his suitcase.
+
Something changes after that. Something in the atmosphere and the way that the sun doesn’t feel too hot on Blaine’s neck anymore as he works with other boys. As they build the steps up to that treehouse and try to fix Nick’s bike.
For the first time since setting foot in this camp; he feels lighter - he feels happier. And it’s not because of Kurt.
And he knows that they don’t understand him - they don’t get why he is who he is, but they’re trying and that, well, that means to world to Blaine.
Sometime during the day with the shining sun beaming down on their backs, Blaine tells Jeff that he never even got to say goodbye. They were ripped apart on the beach of their little cove and Blaine’s last memory of him is them being dragged away - to opposite sides of the beach before making their way home.
And when Jeff just tells him that “they’ll work something out,” Blaine isn’t sure how to believe him.
+
He’s so lonely in this house, as the insects crawl through the grass beside him and the leaves on the trees rustle from the wind blowing it’s way through the air, with only the words of dead poets to keep him company.
Kurt’s lonely without his dad’s familiar voice vibrating through the air - reassuring him with a certain calmness.
The silence from his dad scares Kurt, he’s scared of his dad’s opinion and he’s scared of how he’s going to react - when he reacts.
Up in the branches in their old apple tree, Kurt reads and reads and pretends to hear his mother’s voice in his head; a reassurance and a comfort. Instead of facing his own fears, he faces other people’s fears; spiders and insects and heights.
+
“Dear Mr Kurt Hummel,
We (the Warbler Scout Troop) wanted to give you -”
+
It’s in a meadow that it ends. Where the clouds are dark as they open up and rain falls down in cascades, flooding the floor and causing mud to spray up everywhere. Where the tall stems of grass are slouching with the weight of the raindrops and the large, rusty windmill at the edge of the meadow is creaking as the wind picks up causing the blades to spin and spin. Where the air is dark and there’s no hint of sun anywhere to be seen.
And there, in that empty meadow stands stands two boys one hundred yards apart. There’s a boy scout still in that green uniform with a multitude of badges plastered to his shirt. His dark, curled hair falls flat on his head with the weight of the rain. It drips off the curls and onto his already soaking wet shirt. The big, thick frames on his face are covered with rain water but he doesn’t care.
The flowers in his hand are drooping - the white daisies facing the ground as if in sadness.
The other boy stands there with his shorts and shirt matching pink - the white of the collar and the folded three-quarter length sleeves contrast brightly. The black binoculars are there as always, hanging from his neck. He wears bright yellow wellington boots; the colour of the sun (if it were out), reaching his knees and specked with mud. He holds in his hand a matching yellow umbrella - covering and protecting him from the rain.
The outfit stands out brightly on this dark and gloomy day, looking to happy to be there.
They look up and as their gazes catch, small, sad smiles appear on both of their faces, but before either moves, the boy with the curled hair takes a piece of paper from his chest pocket. The rain soaks it wet with large splatters of water, the ink starts to run, but the boy reads;
“'Love has no ending.
'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,
'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.
'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'”
“Blaine,” the brown-haired boy whispers and he’s not sure Blaine has heard it; the sound being drowned out by the roar of the rain.
Then, all of a sudden, as a flash of lightning flies through the sky and the booming rumble of thunders shouts across the air, the two boys run. Tripping and stumbling as they skid on the wet mud, brown flying everywhere as they crash. Their lips find each others instantly, pushing and pulling at one another as their lips move together; finding a rhythm.
“Kurt,” Blaine gasps as he pulls Kurt closer, his hands gripping at his face - needing the skin on skin contact, needing to know that this is real.
Kurt grasps at Blaine’s waist as Blaine reaches up on his tip-toes and their kisses deepen; Blaine opening his mouth to let Kurt’s tongue slide in. It’s soft strokes and frantic hands, closed eyes and no sense of reality. Because it feels like a dream - like something that doesn’t happen in real life. The sparks are flying around them like electricity, as Kurt’s hand goes lax and the umbrella drops, not covering either of them but they don’t care.
They kiss and kiss, as the rain falls, dripping down their faces and off of their eyelashes. There’s sighs and light moans as hands wander.
And when they pull back with their foreheads touching as water tries to fall between them, they hold each other, both knowing that this is goodbye.
“I love you,” Kurt says, “I’ll always love you.”
“And I’ll love you for all of eternity.”
+
“- and Blaine a goodbye.
Best wishes,
Warbler Nick Duvall, a fellow scout, confidant and friend of Blaine Anderson.”
+
When he gets home late that evening, the umbrella closed as he drags it along the ground - the tears in his eyes hidden by the raindrops, he slams the door shut.
The moment he does, his dad is standing in the hallway, his fists clenched together and a broken look in his eyes; “Kurt,” he croaks, rushing forward before pulling Kurt into a bonecrushing hug.
“Dad?” Kurt says, his voice breaking as he grasps his dad’s back tight.
“Don’t -” Burt says, “Don’t do that ever again.”
Kurt shudders, emotion welling up his eyes; “I’m sorry,” he whispers. There’s a few moments of silence before; “I was scared.”
“Of me?” Burt says, taking a step back so he can look Kurt in the eyes. “You were scared of me?”
Kurt nods his head in shame. “I thought -” he begins, wrapping his arms around himself; “I thought I was diseased, Dad. I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought you would hate me.”
“Kurt,” Burt says, looking him directly in his eyes, “I could never hate you. You’re my kid. I don’t care about that - I just want you to be safe and happy. I didn’t know how to handle it - it was a shock so I didn’t say anything at all. But I realise now that if I don’t want to lose you, I’m going to have to deal with it. And I don’t want to lose you again. I can’t lose you as well.”
They’re both silent for a while before Burt talks again; “I love you, kiddo.”
“Dad,” Kurt says, his voice trembling as tears fall from his eyes, relief filtering through his body and he shudders as he takes a deep breath. And for the first time in days, Kurt smiles - finally feeling that huge weight be lifted from his shoulders.
+
At breakfast the next morning, before the boys start their jobs and repair damage from the storm, Blaine gets up. He stands tall amongst the Warblers and speaks; “Thank you,” he says, not looking anyone in particular, “Thank you for everything.”
And they all know, they know that this is meant for them.
iii.
He wonders, sometimes, how he is where he is. How over the course of eighteen months, he managed to find acceptance and love when all his life he’d imagined having a lifetime of neither.
He’d expected to spend the rest of his life lying about who he is and pretending to everyone he ever met that he was someone that he’s not.
But all he needed was that catalyst - that spark - to set everything into motion and turn everything upside down. As Kurt looks in the mirror, wearing a navy blazer with red piping and his hair styled to perfection, he doesn’t recognise that boy he was before. Before the summer.
So he sets off, softly closing his dorm room door behind him as he shuts it with a click of finality. Walking down the corridor, he shivers with excitement and nervousness, a tremor making its way through his body.
He’s still smiling.
He thinks of his dad, and how much they really misunderstood each other, how they’re both trying now and that’s all that matters. Maybe things are uncomfortable and stilted even still, but it’s better - the best it’s ever been since his mom died.
He thinks of Blaine and how he hasn’t seen him since that rainy day in the field. He thinks of the way he gave Blaine his book - his one prized possession in the hopes that he will be remembered.
He wonders if Blaine still reads it and thinks of him, wonders where exactly he is and what he’s doing. If he’s okay or if he’s not. (He really hopes he is.)
The bell rings just as Kurt’s about to make his way down the staircase - his hand trailing along the cold, black railings. He knows he needs to ask someone what to do and where to go but instead he marvels at his surroundings; the paintings on the walls and the bustle of the boys running up and down the staircase.
But as he’s almost at the bottom, he taps a boy on the shoulder, the words on his lips when the boy turns round.
He looks up and … oh.
“There you are,” Kurt murmurs, his voice soft and sweet. The boy stands still with his hazel eyes wide open, sparkling and glimmering in the light, darting over Kurt’s entire body. Kurt knows that’s they’re both thinking the same thing; wondering if this is real.
And all Kurt wants to do is throw himself forward, gripping and grasping at the boy’s body and never let go - never again. He wants to attach their lips in a fierce embrace and dig his hands into his hair.
But he can’t and he knows he can’t because it’s neither the time nor place.
The is hall now void of students rushing to their next class, so he reaches forward gently and brushes his hand against Kurt’s, the slight touch of the fingertips is all Kurt needs.
It’s all that he needs to know that it is real and he lets out a soft breath of air, loud in the silence of the atmosphere watching with bated breath as Blaine’s fingers intertwine with his; “I’ve been looking for you, forever.”
{for kayla because she had a bad day and also for elsa because she said she wanted blaine to sing kiss me by ed sheeran and then this happened} a wintery klaine reunion with tentative smiles and cold lips dancing together in the snow under fairy lights.
He’s playing with his bow tie as he walks around the hall; trying to loosen it even slightly so that he can stop feeling like he’s suffocating. Christmas decorations are still up, tinsel and fairy tights sparkling on the walls as people dance underneath mistletoe.
He can’t avoid it anymore and he knows he can’t. He’s spoken to everyone here - everyone else but him - at least twice. He’s danced so much that his feet are aching and the night isn’t even half over yet.
So Blaine straightens his bow tie as he crosses the room, ignoring the butterflies jittering in his stomach and the way his hands won’t stop shaking. Grow up, he tells himself, be a man; But he can still feel his palms sweating as he gets closer.
His breath catches in his throat when he spots Kurt, he’s in a form fitting silver suit that’s creasing at the elbows from where he’s leaning against the wall. His eyes are still as bright as ever and the way the light is shining on him, highlighting his cheekbones makes Blaine’s heart stutter in his chest.
“Hey,” Blaine says, walking slowly towards Kurt, who turns round with surprise written all over his face.
Kurt looks down at the floor before replying; “Hey.”
“Are you - uh,” Blaine begins, stuttering and falling over his words. He takes a breath; “Are you okay?”
Kurt nods, a smile on his face that Blaine sees right through. “Yeah, and you?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
It’s awkward - so very awkward - and Blaine cringes at the way they’re catching each other’s gaze before their eyes dart quickly away, pretending it didn’t happen.
“Do you wanna go outside?”
Blaine’s eyes shoot up in surprise; “Outside?” Kurt nods and tilts his head in the direction of the doors. “Sure,” Blaine replies.
So they make their way through their old school hallways of Dalton Academy; their hands brushing before they’re both quickly moved away. Kurt pushes the door open for Blaine who follows Kurt outside - the cold air suddenly hitting them both, goosebumps prickling up on their skin but they ignore it as they sit on that old marble bench they always used to sit on in front of the hedge and under the fairy lights.
Snow is falling from the sky, piling up on the floor - untouched. All they can hear is the muted beat of the music and chatter from their former classmates, it feels like they’re in a different world.
“I lied,” Blaine says, looking down as he rubs his hands together between his knees, trying to keep himself warm. “I’m not okay.”
Kurt chokes out a breath, blowing out of his mouth in a thick cloud in the cold, winter air.
Blaine looks up at the dark sky, the fairy lights above them looking like stars and he chokes out a depreciative laugh; “I feel like I’m lost, Kurt and that I have no where to go from here, from this place. I feel trapped and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
Kurt grabs Blaine’s hands, pulling them into his; rubbing them together. “I want to be back in New York. I want to be at college or auditioning for roles, even working at a coffee shop and playing at small bars trying to get gigs. I want to be struggling. I don’t want this; working at my old school, teaching glee club. I don’t want to be apart from you. I don’t want to be on a break anymore, Kurt.”
His voice breaks and Kurt’s heart drops to his stomach at the pain in his voice but relief fills his head; “Me too.”
He laughs quietly; “I waited all those years; studying and performing and doing my best to get out of here, yet, here I am - still in this backwards town.”
They’re both quiet for a moment, before Blaine asks, his voice quiet; “What are we doing, Kurt?”
Kurt shrugs, neither of them knowing how to answer that question when a soft beat comes through the door and Blaine recognises it instantly. He stands up, grabbing Kurt’s hands and pulling him up along with him.
“Dance with me?” Blaine asks, his voice soft.
“Always,” Kurt replies, resting his hands on Blaine’s waist as Blaine winds his around Kurt’s neck.
Snow is drifting down from the clouds, landing in their hair, causing it to shimmer and sparkle before melting. They can feel the cold, running through their clothes and with every breath they take they can see it in the air. But they just pull each other closer as they sway to the beat.
Blaine feels his heart race at their proximity; at the way it seems so very delicate, that there’s a spell on them that could break at any moment.
So they sway, barely moving in the light of the twinkling fairy lights above them; but they’re there. They’re together and that’s all that matters.
And Blaine lifts his head, so that he’s looking at Kurt in the eyes, their noses brushing as he loses himself in the glimmering blue eyes in front of him; “We’re falling in love,” he sings. He feels Kurt’s sigh with the warm breath on his lips.
Everything is Kurt, Kurt, Kurt and Blaine feels like he can’t breathe. He feels like there is electricity flying around them, dancing as it sparks everywhere. All it needs it one spark to set it off.
So Blaine lifts himself slightly onto his tip-toes, unable to take it anymore and presses his lips to Kurt’s. It’s ice cold but Blaine just pulls Kurt tighter, brushing his fingertips against Kurt’s cheek in a soft caress.
Kurt sighs into the kiss as Blaine’s hands rest on his face. He grips Blaine’s waist tighter because he finally feels home again and he’s missed this so much.
And maybe, maybe at the time a break seemed like a good idea - that space and time would heal them. And maybe it has. Maybe it’s helped but right now, in this moment under the lights in the snow, Kurt can’t think of why they ever stopped this.
All he feels is Blaine and it’s so precious to him - so special that he doesn’t know why they didn’t keep trying because it’s worth fighting for.
They pull away slowly, only enough so that Kurt can rest his forehead onto Blaine’s. A spark of hope ignites in his chest as Kurt’s lips turn up into a tentative smile and Blaine knows that everything is going to be okay as long as Kurt looks at him like that for the rest of eternity.
{skank!kurt/badboy!blaine au - verse } Because Blaine needs Kurt (not just to fix his car) and Kurt can’t help but always give Blaine what he wants. // AO3 ~1.1k
With hands covered in grease and oil – the grime sticking underneath his fingernails – and his coveralls wrinkled, the bell above the door rings. His hair is a mess, sweat causing the pink strands to stick up from where he’s ruffled it.
“Sorry, I’m about to close up,” Kurt says without looking up from the car he’s working on.
“Hey,” Kurt hears and his gaze moves to the doorway where there’s a boy standing there wearing a school uniform, his hazel eyes flickering in Kurt’s direction. He’s standing with his shoulders wide; an air of confidence radiating off of him.
“Blaine,” Kurt rolls his eyes, wiping some of the grease off of his hands and onto the coveralls. “What are you doing here?”
Blaine stays silent, looking anywhere but Kurt as he shrugs his blazer off of his shoulders.
“Again?” Kurt says, slamming the hood of the car he was working on shut; “Are you serious?”
“Look, man, can you help or not?” Blaine groans; “They keyed the body and it’s not running properly - won’t accelerate.”
Kurt sighs, “Fuck, fine. You owe me though.”
Blaine smirks as Kurt walks towards him, “Don’t I always?”
Kurt smiles as he walks up to Blaine, looking down into his golden eyes, so close that he can count every eyelash and feel Blaine’s breath against his lips.
Just as Blaine leans closer, their breath tangling together, Kurt whispers, “Don’t forget it,” before stepping past him and through the door towards Blaine’s bike.
+
Fifteen minutes later finds Blaine sitting on the hard, cold floor with his legs crossed and a cigarette dangling from his lips as he watches Kurt work on his bike.
Without looking back Kurt says, “Stop staring at my ass, Anderson.”
Blaine just laughs as he takes the last drag from the cigarette before stumping it out on the ground, “Am I not allowed?”
Kurt grumbles, “No, your privileges have been revoked until you get rid of this god damn fucking bike,” he slumps down onto the ground, throwing his tools back in the box before saying; “Fuck this. I can’t fix it tonight, Blaine.”
Blaine groans, “You’re serious.” It’s not a question.
“Whoever messed with it did a good job - I need to order new parts and they won’t come until next week.”
“Fuck,” Blaine says, “I need to get back to school or I’m going to get suspended. Again.”
Kurt rolls his eyes, “Were you even supposed to be out?”
“Well, technically - no. But I signed myself out,” Blaine says; “My parents are going to fucking kill me if they suspend me.”
“For fuck sake -” Kurt says, standing up and moving towards Blaine, “Give me your phone.”
“What? Why?”
“Give me the phone, Blaine.”
Huffing out a sigh of annoyance, Kurt dials a number as Blaine hands him the phone.
“What are yo- Who are you calling?” Blaine says as Kurt holds the phone up to his ear only to get Kurt’s hand in his face, telling him to shut up.
“Hello, this is Marie Anderson,” Kurt says, holding his breath as he makes his voice even higher than usual, “I just wanted to let you know that Blaine’s staying home this weekend due to a family emergency, so he won’t be back until late Sunday evening.”
There’s a moment of silence and Kurt breathes, “Thank you for understanding. Bye,” before hanging up and throwing the phone in Blaine’s dumbstruck face.
“No need to thank me,” Kurt says, smirking as Blaine get’s up off of the floor, “You can stay at mine - Dad’s in Washington.”
Blaine laughs, “I guess your high voice does come in handy sometimes.”
Kurt punches Blaine in the arm, “Shut up, asshole.”
+
Blaine sits in that old treehouse in the back of Kurt’s garden, leaning against the wooden wall with a cigarette in hand and a half-empty bottle of whisky between his raised knees. His gaze is trained on Kurt, whose hair has gone even more of a mess, the floppy pink strands falling onto his forehead from the way he’s been running his hands through it as he paces backwards and forwards. He’s ranting about the guys that keep messing with Blaine’s bike; “You can’t keep riding that death trap, Blaine, it’s going to kill you one day.”
And Blaine just smirks lazily up at Kurt, “Babe, you’d care if I died?” He says, taking a drag from the cigarette, “I’m honoured.”
Kurt rolls his eyes, crouching down to snatch the bottle from Blaine’s knees, “Of course I do, asshole.”
He stares into Kurt’s eyes, that fire inside roaring as he shrugs.
Kurt, after taking a gulp from the bottle, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before his grabs Blaine by the collar of the leather jacket that he stole from Kurt, hauling Blaine towards him.
Before their lips touch and just as Kurt can feel the brush of Blaine’s eyelashes on his cheeks, he says, “You’re the only thing in this damn town worth caring about.”
And their lips crash together, Blaine’s hands resting on Kurt’s waist underneath the oil-stained t-shirt, skin on skin, as Kurt cups Blaine’s face, pulling him closer, closer, closer.
Kurt sighs into the kiss as Blaine opens his mouth; their breath tangling together along with their tongues. They battle for dominance - Kurt pulling his mouth closer and Blaine pulling his hips; laying his legs down flat so they can fit closer.
Kurt’s knees frame Blaine’s legs as they mouths move together, tasting whisky on Blaine’s tongue and the stubble on his neck. They kiss and kiss until they can’t feel their lips and Blaine’s grabbing at the buckle on Kurt’s belt - wanting more and more.
They keep pushing and pulling at each other until the alcoholic haze has worn off and the stars are shining bright outside and the night air is silent around. The cool air barely noticed by the two boys as they lay in a heap on the floor, gasping for breath.
They breathe in tandem; their legs tangled and Blaine’s arm thrown over Kurt’s waist until they slip away into unconsciousness.
+
And on Sunday, Kurt drives Blaine back to school, who’s wearing Kurt’s too big shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his tie is askew from the way Kurt has tugged at it because “You need a break, Kurt,” lead to making out in the backseat amongst whispered confessions of “I’ll miss you” and, “I hate that you’re so far away” - things that they don’t dare to say out in the open or away from ecstasy.
But when they finally arrive at Dalton and Blaine get’s out of the car, Kurt rolls the window down and leans out of the window slightly before tugging Blaine into a searing kiss - full of heat and passion.
When he pulls away there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes and Blaine smiles slightly. But then the spell is broken and Kurt steps on the accelerator and drives away - leaving Blaine on the steps of the school, his fellow students staring in disbelief as Blaine walks up the steps, shrugging his blazer on his shoulders, a smirk crossing his face.
colfergust replied to your post: i’m about to eat my last greentea kitk...
that does not sound like it would be good
it does though! like at first i was so weirded out when my friend was making me eat it but then BOOOM, best strangest taste ever. it's still weird but it's so good and I just finished eating my last and I don't know what to do anymore
