“He makes Grant look like the Phantom without his mask on,” Valerie explained with a sigh, motioning the poster for the show on the wall behind him.

Kurt hummed to himself, his interest picking up, before thanking Valerie for letting him know. He had been half way through getting dressed so he quickly grabbed his favourite maroon sweatshirt, pulling it on carefully so not to mess up his hair. No matter how gorgeous this man sounded, he doubted he would be gay, or even interested in anything other than an autograph from him. He might even have a kid with him or a wife or girlfriend.

Checking his appearance one last time in the mirror, Kurt ran his tongue over his top teeth and set off for the backstage door, waving off the security guard standing against the wall beside it. When he went into the alley he glanced around in the dark before his eyes fell on the silhouette of a man a few feet away. He couldn’t make anything out other than that he was shorter than Kurt.

Kurt had been out there earlier signing autographs so he was slightly surprised that this man had waited until everyone had gone and the backstage light turned off before knocking for him.

“Hello?” Kurt asked uncertainly, raising his hand slightly. When he realised the man had his back to him, he lowered his hand and frowned. “You wanted an autograph…or something?” He didn’t know why he said or something, what could this man want other than an autograph? Kurt glanced around and saw that they were alone – no children, no wife and no girlfriend. It wasn’t often that people went to the theatre alone – who would they discuss the show with afterwards?

“Hummel, isn’t it?” the man said. His voice was low and it sent a strange shiver down Kurt’s spine. It sounded like he was smirking, but he still had his back to him so he couldn’t be sure.

“Uh – yes,” Kurt said, taking a step closer. He twisted his hands nervously and wondered if he should approach the stranger.

His decision was taken out of his hands as the stranger turned round to face him. Val wasn’t lying about him being gorgeous. The stranger was the very definition of the word. With his loose dark curls and dark eyes. He was dressed smartly; in a three piece black suit without a tie, just the top two buttons undone so Kurt could see a faint tuft of hair above his chest.

Kurt sucked in a deep breath of air, as the stranger shot him a toothy smile. “Oh,” was all Kurt managed to say.

“Yours or mine?” the stranger asked with what was definitely a smirk. He raised his eyebrows and how does he have such long eyelashes? They couldn’t be real.

Kurt choked on nothing and spluttered. “W-what?” he gasped, feeling heat rise up his neck.

The stranger laughed and held up a pen and a programme that Kurt had neglected to notice. He had been so mesmerised by his eyes and smile. “Do you have a pen or did you want to use mine?” he asked. His expression was innocent except for his eyes, which were burning into Kurt’s. He tried to keep the gaze but it was like looking into the sun; bright and overwhelming.

Kurt took the pen and programme. “This is fine,” he said. He paused for a moment, licking his dry lips. “Who shall I uh – who shall I make it out to?” He looked expectedly at the man and tried to rearrange his expression to something close to disinterest.

“Blaine,” the stranger replied. His top lip curled into a smile so only his top teeth were showing.

“Blaine,” Kurt repeated, trying the name out on his tongue. He scribbled, To Blaine, thanks for coming! and signed it before handing it back to him.

Blaine admired it for a moment before tucking it inside his jacket pocket. “Thanks,” he said. He looked at his wristwatch and added, “See you around.”

Kurt gaped at him as Blaine winked and started walking down the alleyway. See you around? What was that supposed to mean? Would he see him again?

***

Kurt’s question was answered the next day when he spotted Blaine sitting in the audience of his matinee show and then at the evening show two nights later. If Kurt didn’t know any better Blaine was coming to see him. Of course that was absurd. Why would a guy like that be interested in a guy like him? Perhaps he just really liked the show. That must be it.

Kurt had a friend in the box office who told him that this Blaine character had seen the show at least four times when he’d been on duty and had always purchased the one ticket. This was interesting information, just how interesting Kurt didn’t know but he really wanted to find out.

It was Saturday night which meant that Kurt had just finished his last show for the week and wouldn’t need to be back on stage until Tuesday. Pulling his black pea coat closer around his body, he pulled out his wallet to see how much cash he had on him. Enough for a light salad at the restaurant around the corner and a diet coke. Perfect, he thought.

Daisy’s was Kurt’s favourite restaurant in the Broadway section of New York. It was what you’d call a diner restaurant, a place where the waitresses probably took orders on skates back in the 60s. It offered good food and a quiet atmosphere that he so desperately needed after rehearsals and one to two shows a day. The fact that it was a five minute walk from the theatre only increased Kurt’s love for it.

He pushed open the door and waved quickly at the young woman behind the counter. Susan, the infamous Daisy’s granddaughter, who part owned the restaurant and who had become somewhat of a friend to Kurt. She didn’t know very much about Broadway, but that’s what he loved about her. They would discuss fashion and celebrities and it meant that Kurt didn’t have to talk about work after an extra long day. She was his escape.

“The usual, hun?” Susan asked, pulling out a small notepad and pencil from her apron pocket. Kurt nodded, removing his coat and dropping it over a stool at the counter before taking a seat on the one next to it.

“And a coke please,” Kurt confirmed. “Diet,” he added quickly. Susan nodded and made her way out to the kitchen.

“Diet huh? I didn’t realise your costume was so tight fitting.”

A deep voice sounded from two stools over. In his tired state Kurt hadn’t realised that someone else was sitting at the counter. Usually people took to the booths and Kurt was able to choose which stool he sat on up front. Looking over, Kurt blinked in surprise as he recognised the man.

Blaine was sitting with his ankles crossed and his arms resting on the counter as he ate his way through a lasagne. His head was turned to face Kurt and he was smiling politely as he continued to fork food into his mouth.

“Blaine!” Kurt blurted out, feeling somewhat flustered at his presence. “I mean, it’s Blaine, isn’t it?” he backpedalled, mentally hitting himself for being so obvious. And Blaine must have picked up on it too because his eyes fell shut for a moment as he chuckled and turned back to his dinner.

“Yeah, it’s Blaine,” he confirmed, speaking to the plate. Kurt thought he saw the tiniest smile perk at his lips but it was gone after a moment.

Kurt hesitated and moved to the empty stool beside Blaine, wondering if this was a good idea or not. What could he possibly say? Are you gay? came to mind, but people don’t just ask if someone is gay. You don’t see people asking, are you straight? It wasn’t the thing to do.

“You must be a really big fan of the show,” Kurt settled on. When Blaine turned slightly, lowering his eyebrows and pouting in a puzzled manner, Kurt’s cheeks turned pink and he hastily explained. “I mean, I’ve noticed you – that is – I’ve seen you at the show a couple of times. Well, maybe three or four times.” He babbled, feeling more foolish by the minute.

He was about to move back to his old seat when Blaine said, “I never fully appreciated what a beautiful story it was until I saw you in it.” His voice was even and unreadable and Kurt couldn’t tell if he was flirting or just being polite. Either way, Kurt suddenly wished Susan would hurry up with his order.

“Oh?” Kurt said, his voice slightly higher than he would have liked.

Blaine dropped his fork on the plate and threw a couple of notes beside it. “The story isn’t the only thing I think is beautiful,” he whispered, his voice almost growling. His eyes were dark and unblinking and this caused Kurt’s stomach to twist uncomfortably under his stare.

“R-right,” Kurt said, his voice failing him again. He licked his lips, feeling his breathing increasing as Blaine leaned in close.

“Are you busy tomorrow?” Blaine asked causally, raising his eyebrows and clicking his tongue as he waited for an answer.

“T-tomorrow, right, yes, I mean no. No I’m not busy.” Kurt was really starting to hate himself now and hated how this stranger, this Blaine, was making him lose all coherent speech.

Blaine’s lips twisted into a smile and he said, “Great, I’ll meet you here tomorrow at say, eight o’clock?” When Kurt nodded in reply, Blaine walked towards the door, turning back at the last second to add, “I can’t wait,” before he was gone.

Kurt turned straight in his stool, putting his face into his hands as he propped his elbows up on the table. “Wow,” he whispered.

***

When Blaine arrived at his apartment he found Jesse sitting on the floor at the door, his arms loosely wrapped around his knees that were brought up half way to his chest and parted.

“Blaine,” Jesse said, standing up the minute he spotted Blaine walking towards his door.

“Jesse,” Blaine greeted, pulling out his key to let them both in. Unlike Quinn, Blaine preferred to travel light. His apartment was small and minimally decorated, with only the basics. He had found the sofa on the side of the street a few months back, heaving it into the main room himself. It stuck out like a sore thumb but Blaine didn’t care. It was comfy and had character.

Despite making a fair amount on the last client, Blaine still hadn’t fixed the cold tap in the bathroom that continued to drip nor had he replaced the peeling wallpaper in the bedroom. Instead he chose to write song lyrics on the faded grey wall underneath.

Having lived on the streets and moving from crappy apartment to crappy apartment, Blaine didn’t see the point in buying too many things or improving it. It was liveable and that was enough for him.

In fact, the only thing he owned, besides his clothes, was his guitar. It meant that if things didn’t work out, he could pack a rucksack with the few clothes he owned, grab his guitar and go.

Every time Jesse came there he would eye the d�cor and lack of furniture and possessions with distaste and what Blaine assumed was compassion, but being Jesse was more likely to be pity.

Jesse seemed excitable. His eyes were wide, a sinister and knowing smile was plastered across his face and he was walking around the room like a little boy at Christmas. “Well?” he demanded, rounding on Blaine.

Blaine raised his eyebrows as he pocketed the key and went into the kitchen for a bottle of beer from the fridge. He didn’t bother getting Jesse one, he wouldn’t be there long.

“Well?” Blaine repeated, drawing out the l’s. He loved playing this game with Jesse, watching him squirm and getting pissed off. Jesse stopped walking and stared at Blaine, a red flush of annoyance creeping up his neck. Blaine rolled his eyes and said, “I’ve spoken to him and asked him on a date.”

Jesse looked livid. His eyes were dark and burning, his lips curling unpleasantly as he took several deep breaths. “Is that it? You’ve been at this for two fucking weeks and this is how far you’ve got? A fucking date? �What are you going to do, hold hands and go to the fair?”

Blaine cleared his throat, wiping his cheek where Jesse had literally spat out the word fair.

“I planted a seed in his brain.” Blaine ignored Jesse’s outburst. “I met him after the show and then made sure I had seats where I knew he would see me from the stage over the past couple of weeks. He’d see me and my little seed would grow.

“Four shows later and he not only remembered my name from our five minute meeting two weeks ago, but I’m sure I could have fucked him tonight if I’d asked him.” Blaine smiled at Jesse dirtily.

“So why didn’t you?” Jesse asked, folding his arms across his chest, his face returning to its normal colour.

“Because you wanted him happy, wanted him smitten,” Blaine said. “And while one night with me would surely make him happy, to get the effect you want, I need to crawl into his life before I make the final move. You wanted him to feel the hope, longing and passion you had when you thought you had the part in the show and I can’t do that in one meeting.”

“How much longer?” Jesse asked, a small whine to his tone. “I can’t stand to see the posters everywhere,” he added quietly, his voice bitter.

“As I said, he’s a sapling right now,” Blaine said, opening his front door to let Jesse out. “I’ll call you when he’s a flower.”