If Blaine squints a little, Kurt is just like him.
Sure, he's taller and he's two years older than Blaine was when he was back at his old school, and his voice is higher-pitched, but if you take away the physicality of it - or just squint until everything's blurry - Kurt is Blaine two years ago. And Blaine can't help but look back on himself at that age and wonder if what he's doing with Kurt is really helping.
Blaine had wanted someone to be there for him. He can remember with painful clarity just how much he'd wanted someone to sit with him and assure him that he was normal, that this was normal, that his feelings towards other boys was normal and that he shouldn't be bullied for it. He'd wanted boys to feel comfortable around him, to not be afraid of the little of him that there was. He'd wanted someone to hold his hand and lead him around and protect him.
And Kurt must feel the same way, because when Blaine squints, Kurt is him.
He thinks back to all the times he spent crying his eyes out in the shower - because the pattering of the water masked the noise of his sobs - wanting to drown himself in there. All the times he wanted it to end. All the times he'd told himself that if nobody smiled at him that day, he'd go home and end it. And then his English teacher, damn her, would smile at him and hand him back the latest assignment with praise written all over it, and he just couldn't do it.
Blaine wonders if Kurt's glee director is the same lifeline for him. Maybe Mr. Schuester's smiles have kept Kurt from going that far. Maybe his top marks in Spanish served as a lifeline, just like Blaine's teacher's scribbled words had.
That must be it, because when Blaine squints, Mr. Schuester doesn't look that different from Mrs. Hancock.
And then he remembers all the times he'd fantasized about having someone there with him. His own personal knight in shining armor, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have a notebook full of crappy stories about himself and this unnamed knight riding off into the sunset together. He'd fantasized about someone swooping in to rescue him. He'd thought that Dalton would be that shining knight, but all the boys here are straight and rigid - in both their personalities and sexualities - and while not being bullied is a perk, it still feels like he's lost something.
Kurt has to have fantasized about the knight in shining armor at some point. And even though he's short and has hobbit hair and is wearing a blazer, he kind of fits the bill. So maybe all his shortcomings are okay.
Because when Blaine squints at his reflection, sometimes he does look blurry enough to be a Disney prince. And sometimes Kurt looks like a princess, if he puts his hands on his hips and lets his slightly-too-long blazer flare out at the ends. While Blaine squints, of course.
So he holds Kurt's hand when they walk down the hallway. He takes Kurt out to dinner and movies and musicals, every date he could possibly think of and crossing out each and every story from his old notebook full of self-inserts. He takes Kurt out on every one of his fourteen-year-old self's fantasy dates. He leans in close when he talks to Kurt, knowing how his fourteen-year-old self had written about proximity. He touches Kurt, whether it be a hand on his back or laced fingers or even one time a hand on his thigh, knowing how his fourteen-year-old self had written about physical contact. And when he kisses Kurt for the first time, he makes sure that he is a perfect mirror of what he had written about.
Kurt has to appreciate it. After all, it's easy to see that he's completely taken with Blaine, so he has to appreciate it. Blaine has to be fulfilling all of Kurt's fantasies too, showing him slowly that there is someone out there for him who will accept him and tell him that he is normal and will treat him like a person.
Because Blaine closes his eyes when he kisses Kurt, and he'd be lying if he said he was thinking about Kurt when he kissed him. Instead he was thinking about himself, his sad little fourteen-year-old self who had wanted this so, so badly.