That is when Kurt Hummel died. The funeral was kept quiet, just like his death. Kurt Hummel died silently, without fireworks. No one noticed his disappearance. Besides, his friends and family were sure that the boy is still living and he's good - perfect student, who was making his way up the success ladder.

They didn't know one thing. Kurt Hummel didn't even put a foot on the first rung.

You see, the world had a lot to offer to Kurt. However, it had a lot more to offer to Roxanne - at least, that's what Kurt thought.

Don't get me wrong, Kurt Hummel was never proud of his profession. Nevertheless, in some twisted way, he enjoyed it. Sex has never meant a lot to him, but he liked to feel wanted. Wasn't it what he wanted his whole teenage life?

No. That's bullshit. Really, Kurt Hummel hated Roxanne. He hated Roxanne even more than the guy who made him do THESE things in THAT toilet. This, those, there. Kurt would laugh, hearing those terms. Life taught him to get rid of the euphemisms, just like it taught him that innocence is not a feature that it'll come in handy with his profession.

Kurt also learned how to distinguish things. He could be a gentle lover, if that was what his client wanted, just to forget about them behind the closed door and coldly cross out his name from the list. Kurt was a professional. He couldn't allow himself to feel. Kurt believed that sex has nothing to do with love. No, not Kurt.

Roxanne.

Kurt was a whore, nothing else. Some time ago, at the beginning, he liked to convince himself that it's different. Those were the times, when sex meant something. Those were the times, when he didn't treat it as a job. However, he got used to the thought that he'll spread his legs for anyone who isn't Jack the Ripper and has some dollars in his pocket a long time ago.

Then the money. Kurt didn't earn too much, considering that he's a pretty good prostitute. Maybe it was the agency's fault, or maybe he simply didn't care. Maybe it was both.

Kurt knew that he was good. He was good from the beginning. His customers liked his innocent appearance, beautiful voice. One of them even called him an angel once. But Kurt didn't like this pseudonym. He preferred Roxanne. However, Roxanne's wings were simply different than angelic ones. But if what is true?

Kurt hasn't thought about it much. Sometimes he would like to live without past, without the realisation that somewhere behind him, there's something as trivial as the past. You see, Kurt didn't remember his first customer. That was, at least, what he was telling himself, but in the end, if we're doing something for the first time, involuntarily, we remember it. But Kurt didn't want to remember. He didn't want to think. He ignored this silent thought in his head, telling him that if the really didn't care about what he was doing, he wouldn't try so hard to erase the bad things. Actually, since he first got paid for sex, Kurt started to ignore a lot of things.

At the beginning, Kurt didn't work for any agency. He worked on his own, using sex as additional profit. He didn't remember the moment, or a particular reason, for why he did it for the first time. In his memory, everything was a series of random and chaotic events.

Don't judge Kurt too quickly. It's not like he left his dreams. It's not like he didn't try. You see, Kurt still studied. Ultimately, his parents spent a lot of money, to provide future to him and his step brother. Kurt could be barely a shadow of his past life, but he still cared. And he couldn't, he just couldn't use the situation.

Of course, somewhere deep down, he still dreamed about Broadway, acting and a lot of magnificent masks he could wear. Clearly he didn't go in this direction. Maybe it never was fulfillment of his dreams, or maybe he was just scared. Anyway, he's studying journalism. Partly, he hoped that he'll be able to fulfill his second passion, which was fashion. However, Kurt lost his hope, when he was still in high school. He left his studies after a year, but he felt obliged to tell about it his family. He told them, that he needs to understand who he wants to be and what he wants to achieve. It was only partly a lie.

After leaving studies, Kurt stopped pretending that he took care about himself and he gave in to the simplest thing he could - decadence. It was also one of the reasons why he earned that little. He should respect his body (If you can say this, considering his profession), at least just to not scare his clients. He still heard it. Meanwhile Kurt's body was a wreck and he didn't have a strength to take care of it.

Kurt was skinny. Stridently skinny. This, combined with his pale skin, gave a terrifying effect. His hair was matte, his lips were always chapped. Sometimes he forgot about meals - despite his financial problems, he happily said goodbye to the times when he couldn't afford food - he gradually replaced them with alcohol. When he was lucky.

The different thing was that Kurt barely slept. If you think about it, he didn't sleep since three years. Impossible? Kurt stopped believing in this after the first year, when he realised that in his case, sleeping means only lying on the bed with his eyes closed. Sometimes, however, he was lucky enough to dream. Falsely. Kurt's brain was like television, which after some hour was repeating the programs. It gave him the projection of former memories, happy or not. Beautiful ones were the nightmares, the tragic ones gave him solace. Sometimes he didn't know, what really happened and what was the product of his sick mind.

***
Kurt is crying, crying very bitterly. He realises that Blaine is talking to him, but the words are passing him by. Does it really matter? Blaine probably tries to comfort him. Yes. He feels that familiar hand, stroking gently his back, trying to calm him down. Finally, something is starting to kick in.

"…and you know it doesn't really matter to me. I love you and I don't need these kind of… assurances from you. I mean…"

'Stop it, Blaine', he wants to say. He made such a fool of himself. He let him down. He's a horrible boyfriend, he doesn't deserve Blaine. He really wanted to give him something… his. He didn't even know why he reacted that way. He loved Blaine. He trusted him. And he was so sure he was positive about all of this. He was still sure, when he felt Blaine's clumsy fingers unbuttoning his cardigan. He didn't hesitate. However, the tears running down his cheeks said something completely different.

"I'm sorry, if I did something that made you…" Blaine stops. "You know, I wouldn't do that on purpose."

Kurt can't stand this.

"Can you stop?" He hears his high voice.

Blaine looks at him, looking confused. He seems to be a little hurt.

"Stop what?"

"Being so freaking perfect and gentle, when I…" He can't find the right words. "I can't believe, you still want to look at me. I'm ugly. I let you down. And you can say that sex doesn't matter, but we both know it's not true. I beg myself, so you won't hate me, but you take all responsibility on you and it's so…"

Blaine stops him, kissing him gently. His lips hardly touch Kurt's, knowing how sensitive they are. He cups his cheeks and then laughs quietly and speaks, buttoning up Kurt's sweater.

"Obviously, we were both very lucky to find each other."

Kurt opened his eyes.

He didn't feel anything, but deep down he knew he should. Times when the memories involving Blaine caused him pain were gone with high school. He hadn't thought about him too much, except for the moments when Blaine was visiting him in his dreams. And even then, they were cold.

This time, something didn't let him get up from the bed and forget, as always. He was still thinking about his dream, or more like a memory, so distant, that it seemed like from his past life.

'Don't, Kurt. Forget about it.'

He got up fast and run under the shower, which wasn't his best idea. When he was washing his hair, he heard that quiet voice in his head, again. That voice which he tried to ignore for so long.
'Maybe if that evening looked a little bit differently… Maybe if Blaine was the first, not some nameless boy… Maybe then his life would look completely different. Maybe something could be saved.'

He shook his head. No. He didn't have time to think about this. Stuff like that was making him laugh; besides, he wasn't that boy anymore, he couldn't turn back in time. Thinking about this won't be helpful.

Kurt left the shower, watching critically his scars and bruises, covering his whole petite body. Well. You don't choose clients. Kurt didn't like to look at himself in the mirror (He stopped doing that when he first saw that he can count each and every one of his bones.), and his reflection scared him so much, he had to turn his eyes away. After a while he heard a ringtone coming from the other room. He quickly dried himself off, put on his clothes and left the bathroom.

Kurt's apartment was rather small, but Kurt loved it - in the end, it was the only substitute of the home, he had (but considering high rent, he wasn't sure for how long). His neighborhood wasn't the worst, but it also wasn't the safest place during nights. That's why Kurt didn't invited his customers here, and even if, it happened quite rarely. Besides, Kurt appreciated privacy, so he preferred not to associate his work with the normal life.

His apartment was pedantically clean, so finding his cell phone didn't take him much time. Kurt quickly accepted the call. Before he could even say 'Yes?' he heard familiar voice.

"Student, twenty years old, doesn't have special requirements. Are you in?"

Kurt sighed, feeling a little vexed.

"Do I have another choice?"

"Not really," Arlette stopped for a moment. "Hey, cheer up, at least you'll earn something, Roxanne. Oh, by the way, you could change your name. I'm getting tired of explaining to everyone that you're not a woman."

Kurt shook his head, even if the woman on the other side of the line couldn't see it.

"Pseudonym stays," he said firmly.

He was sure that Arlette rolled her eyes.

"So fucking uptight… as always. Never mind. I'm giving you the address."

Kurt wrote down the informations on the little piece of paper and ended the call, sighing.

Showtime.