kurt.

It was getting tricky to keep things under wraps. Mostly it was the smell; Kurt had a variety of candles, herbs, and grasses under his bed, all for different purposes and combinations that made more.
It’s something that ran in the family, magic. Less secret worlds with wands(much to his younger self’s disappointment) and more rituals to swede the outcome of a certain event. Of course there were some things that came naturally, like moving objects with enough practice into the ability, or healing injuries faster, but everything took devotion. Kurt loved the practice, he did, but since moving into Dalton it was harder.

The smells, the privacy to keep it secret, neither really worked when he had a roommate who he actually got along with. If they disliked each other it would be easier- the lying, avoiding each other. Instead Kurt had to time it carefully and with the knowledge that he wasn’t fooling Blaine at all. Still, he got away with it until the day Blaine was supposed to be gone and busy and he came walking back in early while Kurt was burning a feather over a green candle.

Blaine was full of energy after an impromptu Warblers performance in the center grounds.  They were done for the day but someone ended up humming a tune. Humming turned into actual words.  Actual words became an actual song and from there?
Someone–it was him–goaded yet another out of everyone before Wes had to go and ruin things by reminding the Seniors they had tests in the morning.  Not one to run out of a buzz of excitement so quickly–he practically bounced up the stairs back to his and Kurt’s dorm room wondering if Kurt would want to go get coffee.  Like Blaine needed it.  Probably not but not having Kurt around when they sang anymore?  Just–didn’t feel like they were truly at their best.

Or–he wasn’t truly at his best..  Food for thought?  A meal that had to wait as he stepped inside the room and—-?  Kurt was over a candle, a smoking feather in hand and the room was full of a pungent, earthy smell that wasn’t terrible–oddly appealing even–just strong.  “Sorry,” was the first word out of his mouth.  He’d felt like he just interrupted something..  He had no idea what–but something.  “I..Sorry..”  Words, Blaine.  Use your words. “Kurt,” he whispered his name as light as the feather in the boy’s fingers.  “What are you doing?”  Not those words!