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Part of the reason why Kurt enjoyed classic Hollywood films was definitely the portrayal of romance. Beneath all of the critiques that people liked to make in modern times about how problematic chivalry could be, Kurt just loved the idea of that level of consideration. Of being pampered for a time, shielded for a time, liked the idea of little touches and subtler ways of asking permission. Loved the aesthetic of it, the image of two people walking a step slower than the rest, closer than the rest, the world halting around them as they headed down a busy street. He loved the way that the romance could often be the center of the picture, no need for action, no need for explosions or giant, dystopian societies. Just two people gravitating towards one another in a world which stopped for no one.
It felt true to life, perhaps. Understated and intimate.
In Darrow, he's made sure to set aside plenty of evenings to share such stories with Blaine. Not every night has to be a date night, with the both of them heading towards the swankier restaurants in town — no, sometimes evenings are best kept casual between the two of them, both having gone their own way for the majority of the day, then coming back together to share their experiences, murmured stories rising above the volume of the television. Oftentimes, they start while seated primly on their own cushions, but only manage to meld together over time, hands intertwined and feet bumping against one another — sometimes purposefully, sometimes by accident. Perhaps more than anything else, Kurt likes it when they rest their heads on one another's shoulders, close enough to press a kiss at a second's notice, or to share whispers in close confidence. Today, he's the one who's taken up space on Blaine's shoulder, nudging his nose occasionally against the line of Blaine's jaw, planting a kiss there when Breakfast at Tiffany's reaches one of its slower scenes.
What he might love most about these films now, Kurt thinks, is the fact that he doesn't have to sigh in longing when they reach their end. Not anymore. Not when he has the real thing by his side, day after day. The fact that they'll probably be taking the next step in only a matter of hours thrums through his chest, skin tingling with excitement. But for now, Kurt keeps his kisses light, chaste, never wanting to pressure Blaine. After all, they have plenty of time.
It felt true to life, perhaps. Understated and intimate.
In Darrow, he's made sure to set aside plenty of evenings to share such stories with Blaine. Not every night has to be a date night, with the both of them heading towards the swankier restaurants in town — no, sometimes evenings are best kept casual between the two of them, both having gone their own way for the majority of the day, then coming back together to share their experiences, murmured stories rising above the volume of the television. Oftentimes, they start while seated primly on their own cushions, but only manage to meld together over time, hands intertwined and feet bumping against one another — sometimes purposefully, sometimes by accident. Perhaps more than anything else, Kurt likes it when they rest their heads on one another's shoulders, close enough to press a kiss at a second's notice, or to share whispers in close confidence. Today, he's the one who's taken up space on Blaine's shoulder, nudging his nose occasionally against the line of Blaine's jaw, planting a kiss there when Breakfast at Tiffany's reaches one of its slower scenes.
What he might love most about these films now, Kurt thinks, is the fact that he doesn't have to sigh in longing when they reach their end. Not anymore. Not when he has the real thing by his side, day after day. The fact that they'll probably be taking the next step in only a matter of hours thrums through his chest, skin tingling with excitement. But for now, Kurt keeps his kisses light, chaste, never wanting to pressure Blaine. After all, they have plenty of time.