Blaine’s lips look soft and plump and a little slick with too much balm. Kurt noticed immediately, of course, when Blaine walked in with that look on his face, but then he forced himself to look Blaine in the eye and only in the eye, as he’d been training himself to do ever since Valentine’s Day. And then Blaine started saying these lovely fantasy things, things Kurt had hoped to hear when he fell for Blaine, but had locked away when he realized that Blaine wasn’t going to catch him. Kurt hears the words, but he has no time to understand them, because Blaine has stopped talking and keeps moving closer, closer–
Those lips are pressed against his own, now, and while Kurt’s heart tries to break out of its cage in delighted panic, his mind goes completely still. Every disjointed little thing he has understood about himself and Blaine up until this point finally settles in neat layers of comprehension with each second their mouths spend in contact with each other.
He sees me.
He feels me.
He wants to be with me.
God, Blaine’s confession was beautiful, but Kurt didn’t need it. When he lifts his hand to Blaine’s cheek, mirroring Blaine’s own on his, and he pulls Blaine in and Blaine just gets impossibly closer in response–Kurt knows.
The truth is never that complicated.