💚 …because they were dared to during a game
It was on record, that once upon a time, Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were honest to god best friends. It was because of this fact, that Kurt found some comfort, or truth in the multiverse theory Sam had presented him with ages ago, stuck in the back of French class with Sam scrambling to scribble off his page — the right answers. In this day and age, he would absolutely never allow said friendship, or see it because who was he? See even at a young and vulnerable age, Kurt knew far better than to give Sebastian the weapon of information that he held dear. This said tidbit was the fact that Kurt might have been in love with Blaine. And maybe he had been ever since they’d met. But Sebastian? With that news? Well, Sebastian would have made comments loud enough for the other to hear every time he passed. Not only that, that was of course over looking the fact that Seb had his own fascination with the bright eyed wonder. Much to Kurt’s absolutely not at all obvious dismay. One Sebastian since began thriving off of, longing for, and everything in between.
But this wasn’t the story of what went wrong with the fallen friends, no. This was the story of the first kiss, the first perfect (and not at all awkward) kiss shared between Kurt and Blaine.
Ah yes, Blaine Anderson, the keeper of hearts. Or, at the very least, the central nervous system and star of spank banks everywhere — Sebastian-love-is-a-joke-Smythe included; no matter how hard he had once tried to deny it. Dibs had been claimed and shot after shot had been downed. Simpler times. And yet it was that little moment that came back to haunt him; even if it was the fate of the bottle that had put him in the situation, not by his own doing either— it was Blaine’s fault if he had to be bluntly honest. And despite that, Kurt wouldn’t change a damn thing because it had only solidified the fact Prince Charming was real. He did exist and the fantasy wasn’t purely for torture purposes.
It was less of a dare, and more of a spin the bottle situation. Rachel Berry’s basement (which unbeknownst to Kurt was the only reason the red envelope decorated with medium drips and Warblers, and a wax navy seal found a home between the fingers of Blaine Anderson) that their first kiss was shared. The audience wasn’t needed but it was hard to acknowledge them with a drunken Blaine pressing closer with a grin, the fruity air wafting from his tongue, lips laced with sugar and utter bliss, along with the faint undertone of alcohol that he’d strayed away from for the evening. Didn’t want to get too sloppy, but boy, he wouldn’t have minded if they had.
For a whole two seconds, seeing Blaine brought that back along with the warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach, right before it sank out of his body at the realization.… Good god. No.No. Absolutely no. This wasn’t happening. Well, no, it was happening right before his eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for his eyes to wander to take in the details of the day, especially from those of which he admired. Blaine was one of the best dressed and seeing him sans uniform was always a sight for sore eyes; although this was pushing it. A simple once over had alerted him of a far bigger problem. In no conceivable Universe was Blaine Anderson supposed to ever ever so much as know it existed, let alone have the visibly open letter in his hand.
Kurt’s eyes snapped up to his, and the world had long since went to an odd sort of quiet. It was as if Blaine was talking underwater. He could see his lips moving, faintly take in his expression— but no matter what he was saying, Kurt still couldn’t quite get enough oxygen in his lungs to keep up with the demand of his heart which rivaled, if not surpassed, that of a hummingbird. Maybe it was that that caused his eyes to flutter, lips parting to excuse himself, but nothing came save from the swooping darkness that slowly took hold, sending him falling straight back against the polished floors of Dalton Academy.
Rachel Berry had sent the letters.
Finn. Sam. Blaine. Cedric. Simon.
Well, if she had any common sense, the letters to the apparent straight boys would be tucked away within the vintage Gucci box in the top of his closet, but he wouldn’t be able to confirm nor deny until he suffered through the awkward motions with Blaine, nor the horrendous run in with Sam that was hot on their tails. The one that undoubtedly push him deeper into the void, next to pinning Blaine on the ground in a heated kiss in attempts to stave off that conversation.
