“Don’t be nervous, okay? You’ve done this multiple times; you got this.”

Kurt Hummel nodded his head and looked in the direction he heard Santana’s voice come from. He stood up and felt his cane hit the ground, vibrations moving up the white stick and his arm. In his free hand he held his violin case, where his name was carved on the back, bottom right hand corner in gold writing. He had gotten it carved before the accident, and he knew just how beautiful it looked against the wooden case. He let out a sigh and handed his cane to her.

“Thanks, Santana.” He said, smiling fondly at her. She ushered him to the stage and helped him take his seat, center stage.

Butterflies were building in the pit of his stomach. He could feel stares from people in the audience of the Lima Bean boring into him and his every move as he tucked the violin under his neck and heaved in a deep, calming breath.

And, he started playing.

Blaine Anderson opened the door to the Lima Bean, the local coffee shop in a town known as Lima, and rubbed his hands together, trying to warm up from the biting cold air just outside the door. His brother Cooper followed suit, mimicking Blaine’s hand rubbing action.

He approached the counter and asked for a Medium Drip for himself and a Chai Tea Latte for Cooper. Just as they reached an empty table towards the middle of the room they were no longer chilled to the bone. Blaine took a cautious sip of his Drip and smiled as the warm liquid ran down his throat.

“How’re you liking Lima, so far?” his brother asked.

Blaine shrugged and replied with, “It's alright.”

Cooper nodded and patted his brother’s hand. He opened his mouth to say something back, but before any more dialogue could be passed between the brothers, a boy—Blaine couldn’t tell how old he was, or might be—wearing dark shades mounted the stage, a girl with long, dark, hair accompanying him. He took a seat on the stool in the middle of the stage and sat a wooden case on his lap. The girl swooped down and gave him a peck on his cheek before walking off the stage, the slits in her skirt moving with each step she took. The boy sitting on the stool pulled a violin out of the case, which he then carefully bent down and sat on the stage floor.

Blaine tried to hide back his wonderment as he took in the violinist. His brunette hair was styled just so, and his skin was so pale, so translucent. His lips were a light pink, as were his cheeks. He was wearing skin tight black pants with combat boots and a white long sleeved shirt with a black vest over it. He had some kind of broach on the right side of his vest, but from the distance between them, Blaine couldn’t tell what it was. Blaine was overcome with awe as he watched the man tuck the violin under his defined jaw line and pull back the bow and start playing a beautiful melody.

The music the boy was making was echoing around the room and Blaine smiled to himself. He stole a glance around the now packed café and took in every look on every person’s face. A blonde teenager, wearing some sort of cheer uniform—much like the girl who walked the violinist on the stage—was smiling proudly and nodding her head to the music. A gruff looking bald guy wearing a plaid shirt, which was undone, with a grease covered tee-shirt was sitting up towards the front with tears brimming his eyes. Many people were simply staring at the boy on stage in shock with pure awe sketched on their faces. Then, Blaine turned to Cooper who was staring at him with a smile playing on his lips.

“He’s cute,” Cooper mouthed and Blaine could feel his face redden.

Curse Cooper and my easy-to-read facial expressions, Blaine thought to himself as he devoted all his attention to the violinist and his beautiful music.

Slowly, Kurt finished playing the last note and was bathed in applause. He smiled proudly to himself and his audience and was surprised to hear a few whistles. He took a little bow once he was standing and searched around for the violin case. Once he had the case in his hand he felt the familiarity of Santana’s hand wrap around his wrist in assistance.

“Do you want your cane?” She asked.

Kurt cringed, “No. Can you just help me off stage? It’s embarrassing enough having to walk around school and town using that thing; I just want to walk off of the stage with some dignity left.”

“Understandable,”

The pair slipped off the stage and a few people in his audience remained clapping. Santana ushered Kurt to a cushioned chair and he relaxed as soon as he was seated. He took a deep breath and rested his head on the back of the chair.

After a few moments of relaxation Kurt could hear giggling not too far off in the distance. He knew immediately who the giggles were coming from—Santana and Brittany. Santana and Brittany have been dating since September and Kurt couldn’t remember a time when either of them had been so happy. Much like himself, they both went through an identity crisis, but found their love for each other much stronger that any amount of hate inflicted upon them.

Thinking of the hatred that had led up to his… attack, if you want to call it that, only saddened him, so he shoved those thoughts far away in his mind and reached for his cane, which Santana had sat up against the wall for him.

The performers that went on after him were finished and he could faintly hear applause. He started making his way to where he could still hear the girls’ giggles coming, violin case in hand, when he felt warm hands wrap around his wrist, and an arm slide through the crick in his elbow. “Here, let me hold your violin for you.” Brittany offered.

Kurt, not being able to bring his violin up to his chest like he wanted too, handed it over to Brittany. “Just, please be careful with it, Britt.”

“When have I not been?” she asked, a giggle rushing past her lips.

“Please,” Santana said, laughing along with her, “I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve almost dropped his baby.” Both the girls started laughing then, so Kurt did too.

His violin means the world to him. When he was getting bullied, and his father still wasn’t sure how to handle the situation as he does now, he would play his instrument for hours upon hours, singing along with the song he learned how to play from time to time. It relaxed him and became his favorite pass time.

Once the accident happened, he was afraid he was never going to be able to play again because he wasn’t able to see where he was placing his fingers, or where he was putting his bow and if he was holding the violin or bow correctly. But, one day a few weeks after he got released from the hospital, his violin instructor had assured Kurt he was so experienced he had nothing to fear. His instructor was correct—Kurt never misplaced his fingers or the bow.

Burt, his father, had been so proud of him for overcoming a barrier—especially a barrier like Kurt’s. It hadn’t been easy, getting use to the blackness that surrounded him, not being able to see what was only centimeters ahead of him, and having to walk around with that damn cane.

His feet started moving in the direction Brittany and Santana were pulling him in. He heard a few whispered sentences, and then the warmth from both girls left Kurt. Then, he felt the warmth from another hand. The sensation was different from his friends, but familiar all the same. He heard his violin case being sat down on a table and felt his dad pulling him in for a bear hug. Kurt nuzzled his face into his dad’s shoulders and breathed in the smell of his cologne. He smiled.

“You did amazing, Kurt.” Burt said, pulling away from the hug slightly.

Kurt nodded his head and smiled. “Thank you so much. I was so nervous, but I pulled through. I secretly dedicated that to you.”

Burt patted his son on the shoulder and Kurt could feel tears brimming his unseeing eyes.

“Ready to go home?”

“Yeah,”

Burt held onto Kurt’s hand and started walking him to the front door of the little town coffee shop. “Here, wait by the door. I accidentally forgot your violin—sorry.” He said, and Kurt could hear a sheepish smile in his voice.

“Okay, dad.”

Blaine stood up and walked over to the nearest trash can to dispose of his empty coffee cup. Cooper came up behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. “Look, Blainey! Cute, blind, violinist, over there. Here’s your chance!” He sing-songed.

Laughing, Blaine stole a glance the way Cooper had said the gorgeous man was standing. And, there he was. Blaine took in a deep breath and looked at his brother, asking for a push. His brother obliged, and gave him a teeny shove. Blaine took little steps across the room, his nerves sitting on edge.

He let out a shaky breath as he was only about a foot from the violinist.

Scared he was going to startle the man, he cleared his throat. Blaine saw him turn his head in the direction he heard the noise coming from and smiled. Then he said, “Hi… I’m Blaine. Blaine Anderson.”

“Kurt Hummel,” He said, extending his long, slender arm.

Blaine slid his hand into Kurt’s and they shook. Blaine could feel himself flushing slightly at the feel of Kurt’s soft skin against his roughed, calloused hand.

“Would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

Kurt nodded his head. Blaine held onto Kurt’s hand and led him to the back of the line.

With almost all of his nerves gone, Blaine never let go of Kurt’s hand as they inched their way forward, to the front of the line.