The haze of faces, too far away to be discernable became nothing to Blaine every time he sat at a piano. He was oblivious tonight as he played, his fingers flying over the keys seemingly without any rhyme or reason but somehow he still managed to create the most beautiful music. Whispers of songs could be deciphered then Blaine would change the tempo or the direction of the song and another memory would flit across the listener's mind. He was engrossed in the keys, barely even registering that there was an audience. It was the particular reason why he loved to play there. The barmen and the owner seemed to understand his need to play and as he was so accomplished he was tolerated and even encouraged to play well into the night, especially if it was quiet. He created the perfect background music and didn't disturb any conversations that were carrying on in darkened corners of the bar. He wasn't Blaine the financier, the dutiful husband in those moments, just simply himself without any restraints or worry. It was the only time he was truly free.

Quinn would often join him later at these times after she had drunk a few polite cocktails with her work colleagues or after important meetings with partners or clients. She would glance at Blaine at his piano, the shiny blackness almost seeming to engulf him, and she would know he was where he belonged and she wouldn't disturb him. If he wanted to be alerted to her presence, he would look for her familiar face.

She entertained regularly and often created dinners or events in public places where she could walk amongst the crowd of people and be known. It also saved Blaine the worry of entertaining in his own home. Their house was private and a sanctuary, all pretence vanished and they could relax. Quinn loved to entertain though, to be the centre of attention, no one knowing the real thoughts that whizzed through her pretty little mind apart from Blaine who often had an inkling that she was one bad moment away from going completely mental. He loved her for it.

Tonight was one such occasion. Quinn had invited several clients to the popular piano bar where the drinks flowed freely and the piano music played on in the background. Rachel and Kurt had been invited too, another pleasant reminder to Quinn that she was successful and envied by her high school friends. They arrived later and although Kurt's outfit suggested he wanted to be noticed, his bright red pants sinfully tight, his black shirt with a matching red collar, he walked in quietly, an unusually shy Rachel next to him.

"We don't belong here," she whispered in his ear as the door closed behind them.

"Yes we do," Kurt said confidently, "Well at least I do."

"I want to though," Rachel said sadly.

"Well then you need to pretend," he said with a beaming smile. "If you don't feel like you belong you should act like you do. Consider it an important acting opportunity. Now become the Rachel I know and love."

He opened his arms wide to let her walk forward so she would be ahead and she took the opportunity for an entrance, her head held high. People instantly turned their heads to admire her stunning outfit and she basked in their admiration. Quinn noticed them enter and waved them across.

"So glad you could make it," she said, rolling her eyes so only they could see. "I'm a little tired of this evening already."

Kurt laughed. At least she was being true to them. Rachel bought them all drinks and Kurt had the chance to finally sit down next to Quinn until someone who she worked with took her attention away and Kurt took the time to glance around the room.

His eyes finally alighted on Blaine at the piano, putting a face to the music that he had not noticed had been playing in the background. Blaine was focused on the task at hand, his fingers gracing the keys only lightly, his lips murmuring whispers of songs. After what seemed an age, Blaine took the quickest of glances toward the audience that had barely noticed him and his powerful melodies and through the haze and crowd he saw Kurt, again sitting next to his wife and staring straight at him.

Kurt almost jumped in his seat at being caught staring as Blaine played and he blushed, taking the time to sip his newly acquired drink. When he did look up again it was to find Blaine still looking at him but more quizzically now as if he was trying to work him out and Kurt felt the heat rise again on his cheeks. He held Blaine's intense stare despite the blush and the nervous twirling in his stomach. Blaine's music finally became something recognisable and despite only playing on the piano before, he now started to sing.

This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us

It's time to make our move, I'm shaking off the rust

I've got my heart set on anywhere but here

I'm staring down myself, counting up the years

Blaine's stance seemed to change, his back straighter, his shoulders wiggled and his hands became as steady as his face appeared to be.

Steady hands, just take the wheel

And every glance is killing me

Time to make one last appeal... for the life I lead

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving but I go nowhere

Yeah I know that everyone gets scared

But I've become what I can't be, oh

People started to notice, conversations ended as they turned to watch the man at the piano, unnoticeable before, now begging to be heard. Kurt continued to stare and Blaine would glance in his direction to check he still had his attention. Kurt's eyes were going nowhere.

Stop and stare

You start to wonder why you're here not there

And you'd give anything to get what's fair

But fair ain't what you really need

Oh, can you see what I see

It seemed Blaine was mocking the people who were watching him, those that had stopped to look, at the same time as he craved it, wanted the attention, couldn't stand to be in the shadows anymore.

They're trying to come back, all my senses push

Untie the weight bags, I never thought I could.

Steady feet, don't fail me now

I'ma run till you can't walk

Something pulls my focus out

And I'm standing down.

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving but I go nowhere

Yeah I know that everyone gets scared

But I've become what I can't be, oh

Kurt really listened to the lyrics and wondered what Blaine was so desperate to say. What had he become that he didn't want to be? Why did he look so tortured but yet so alive at that piano, singing all he had, becoming something new?

Stop and stare

You start to wonder why you're here not there

And you'd give anything to get what's fair

But fair ain't what you really need

Oh, you don't need

What you need, what you need...

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving but I go nowhere

Yeah I know that everyone gets scared

But I've become what I can't be

Oh, do you see what I see...

And Kurt thought he did see, even just a little as the piano music ended and Blaine was left with just his body at the piano, his voice ending, the melody finishing. He looked up just as the applause started and smiled shyly at the audience who had suddenly woken up at his beautiful playing. He simply nodded his head in acknowledgment and got up from the piano stool, walked over to the bar and waited for a drink.

After a while he came over to their table and pecked Quinn on the cheek in greeting. She smiled warmly up at him as he took a seat.

"Hi Kurt," Blaine said quietly, nervous of his reaction but Kurt just sat there in a daze, his eyes directed at Blaine.

"That was amazing," Kurt breathed, his voice barely audible but Blaine noticed and blushed.

"Oh you mean Blaine's singing?" Quinn said as if it had never occurred to her. "Yes he does sing pretty well, he nearly competed against us at sectionals one year as the lead soloist at Dalton Academy."

Kurt's mouth dropped open.

"The Dalton Academy Warblers?" Blaine nodded. "I nearly went to spy on you," he said incredulously and even Rachel looked up in surprise. He turned to her in explanation. "Yeah, Puck asked me but then the running was changed and the need never arose again."

"You wanted to spy on us?" Blaine asked.

"Well yeah," Kurt said shrugging his shoulders, "I mean we had heard such good things about you and I was having a tough time at school so I could have used the break."

Blaine leant a little closer, his chin resting in his hand, his elbow on his knee.

"You had trouble in school?"

Kurt looked carefully for a second, saw the eagerness in Blaine's wide eyes. He really wanted to know. Gone was the professional manner over the telephone, the trepidation on getting too close. Kurt didn't know what had changed but he went with it anyway.

"Yeah there was this one guy who made it his mission to make my life a misery. He'd push me against lockers, throw slushies but eventually it got a little more sinister."

"What happened?"

"He hate-kissed me," Kurt whispered, embarrassment rising on his cheeks in a pink hue.

"What?" Blaine exclaimed, "So he was a closet case all along?"

Kurt nodded. "He struggled with it quite a bit actually. I still see him every so often."

Blaine shook his head, incredulous. He couldn't believe Kurt had been so forgiving.

"I couldn't do that," Blaine admitted, "If someone hated me that much for my sexuality, even if they struggled with it themselves, I couldn't still be their friend."

"Good job you don't have to worry then," Kurt chuckled pleasantly and Blaine went to say something more, but stopped. Kurt waited, wondered what he had meant to say, then continued.

"I guess I'm lucky I got to see what he was really like and I know what feeling messed up can do to a person," Kurt said. "Everyone has that one thing in their lives that can break them, make them doubt and worry. I don't think anyone should have to suffer through that alone."

Blaine suddenly looked like he wanted to cry and Kurt was a little shocked at the sudden change in his expression. He wanted to envelop Blaine in a hug but even as he leant closer a little, he realised he hardly knew him and instead his fingers came nearer and gently touched his wrist.

"Are you ok?" Kurt asked. Blaine could only nod but he blinked a few times and the moment was gone. Kurt's fingers went away and Blaine tried a smile.

"Do you sing?" Blaine asked and Kurt went with the change in topic.

"Yeah although I don't think I've sung in ages. I guess that ship sailed and I never really pursued it. I loved singing in Glee club, even considered applying to NYADA like Rachel but I visited Parsons and enquired about their fashion design course and the rest, as they say, is history." His gaze took on a faraway look, like he could see his dream in the sky and it was just within reach.

"What do you like about fashion?" Blaine asked, his gaze so inquisitive and open, Kurt felt himself sink just a little in those eyes of honey.

"I get to express myself just the way I want to," Kurt said, "And in so many amazing ways. I might feel tired and jaded one day but I can dress to impress and convince the world I'm someone else. Everyday is an opportunity to dress up or play and pretend. I wouldn't want to do anything else."

Blaine smiled at his enthusiasm, at the way Kurt's face lit up and his eyes shone a perfect blue.

"I wish I could be that enthusiastic about something," Blaine said, "I think I must do the most boring job in the whole world."

Kurt's expression softened.

"But you get to play music Blaine," Kurt said quietly so only Blaine could hear. Rachel was talking animatedly to Quinn and didn't seem to be noticing them anyway. "Anyone that hears you sing or play just knows that is where you belong. Your whole body changes and you really are-"

Kurt had just been about to say 'beautiful' but stopped short. He had become so eager to explain himself, so desperate that Blaine would understand and not sell himself short, that he had lost who he was speaking to. Here was Blaine, a very straight Blaine, married to a friend from high school and he was acting like a stupid teenager.

Blaine's eyes flickered with something akin to hope and he leant a little closer.

"Become what?" he whispered.

Kurt hesitated then thought he saw another desperate twinkle in Blaine's eye. He didn't look like the kind of guy that would be scared away by homosexuality or feel it as a threat to his masculinity. He dove straight in.

"I was going to say 'beautiful' but I know that sounds ridiculous," Kurt laughed nervously. Blaine's breath hitched at the admission.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"When you sing, when you play," Kurt said, desperately trying to explain himself, "You become a perfect version of 'you' and I guess that makes you beautiful."

Blaine smiled, his cheeks warm with a feeling he couldn't describe but it seemed to settle comfortably in his stomach and make him feel like he could soar.

"I'd love to get the opportunity to sing with you one day," Blaine said sincerely.

"Well I think that can be arranged," Kurt said with a glint of mischief in his eye and Blaine chuckled.