His nerves were all over the place, his hands were sweaty and he couldn't stop shaking like a leaf.  It was his first day of work and he had to make a good impression. 

Working for a top fashion magazine like Vogue didn’t exactly get handed to you on a plate every day.  He’d excelled in his interview and he wanted to carry that over into his first day.,  Fashion it was something he was passionate about, something he knew about and he wanted to share his knowledge to the world.

He walked into the building, saying his name to the receptionist (a young girl with her hair tied in a bun and large glasses, playing on the geek-chic look to the max),  who told him to wait in the sitting area to the left of the desk she was sat in. 

Sitting down on the white, square sofas he waited to be greeted by whoever he would be working with or for, or whatever, he wasn’t exactly sure.   As he was waiting he took in his surroundings, he found himself thinking how trendy this place was, before berating himself.  Of course this place was trendy, it was the most fashionable place, like, ever!

The reception was very light and airy.  The glass windows reached from the ground right to the ceiling, which then curved into skylights.  The furniture was all white, even the desk which the receptionist was sat at.  On her desk sat two yellow pots, with green grass growing out of them, making a bold statement.  The glass coffee table that sat in front of him had magazines laid out, but they were fanned so they were showing the exact amount of page each, all showing the dates which were, of course in order.

As he was taking in his surroundings he didn’t notice the gentleman that had come to greet him. 

When he finally noticed the man, he had to catch a breath.  This was the most beautiful glamorous man he’d ever seen. 

He stood up suddenly, feeling a little flustered.  His nerves had almost quadrupled since he’d seen the man, he’d now got butterflies in his tummy and felt slightly sick.  After, straightening his bowtie (which didn’t need to be straightened) and wiping a sweaty palm on his trousers, he held his hand out to the other man. 

‘I’m Blaine’, he introduced himself.

‘Kurt’, said the other man, taking Blaine’s hand in his.  This other man, who had the most beautifully melodic voice Blaine had ever heard., the most beautiful eyes Blaine had ever seen and the softest skin Blaine had ever felt.