Kurt gave Hannah a curious look as she sat down on the other wicker chair, a small grin on her face. She was up to something.

Arching an eyebrow, Kurt pinned her with a questioning look. He was getting pretty good at amping up his facial expressions to get his message across. So much so that he was feeling like a cross between someone playing an endless game of Charades and an actor from a silent film. All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close up.

The wattage of her smile went up as she opened her purse and pulled out a mini iPad. She passed it to Kurt and he carefully took it.

It was still strange how his body didn't always do what he wanted, lacking strength and coordination for simple things at times. The physiotherapist told him he had to rewire his neural pathways that had atrophied during the coma, just like his muscles had. But it was getting better, easier, to do things every day.

"I thought we'd give this a go, Kurt. You had difficulty writing with pen and paper. But texting may come easier." Hannah's warm eyes held Kurt's before she reached over to tap the screen to the notes. Holding her finger over a pre-typed message, she picked 'Select All' and then 'Speak' from the options that appeared.

"Arugula, deli ham, feta cheese, shampoo, toilet paper, pens." A robotic sounding voice intoned from the device.

Kurt gave her a questioning glance.

Chuckling, Hannah took the iPad back. "Well, that's just my shopping list, for an example." She clicked on the tablet a few minutes, and held it back towards Kurt.

"What would you like to do today?" The voice on the tablet was now a British female one.

Kurt's eyebrows rose, and Hannah put the tablet in his lap. "Here. You play around with it, see if you like it. Feel free to go into settings and set the voice to whatever you like. I'm going to make us some breakfast."

And as she boiled eggs and buttered toast, she could hear that same sentence being read aloud in different accents.

...

"Hi Blaine. It's nice to actually be able to talk with you finally." Kurt smiled as the device spoke in an American male voice.

Blaine's grin widened, and Kurt could see the genuine delight on his face. After spending so many sessions watching Blaine as he read aloud, Kurt knew his expressions well. "Nice to talk to you too, Kurt. So why do I get a different accent than Hannah?"

Kurt looked down to type his answer. He was getting better, but he still hit the wrong keys at times. Autocorrect had made some amusing errors, so Kurt had learned to type slow and proofread before hitting 'Speak'. "I use different accents for different people. Just something fun for me. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Blaine was shaking his head, just sipping some ice tea.

"I'd like to get to know you better. Where did you grow up? How did you come to do this kind of work?" Kurt had typed up a list of general, getting to know you questions and had used them on all the different health care workers. Everyone had been surprisingly open in their answers. Deanna had told him about growing up in the Philippines and moving to the US for better opportunities, but Kurt could see how she missed her old country and her family. Hannah had told him about working in a busy emergency department, but got burnt out from seeing all the gun shot wounds. She had switched to nursing in private homes a few years ago.

But Kurt had been most curious about Blaine. He wasn't like the other people in the apartment, and Kurt was dying to know more about him.

"Well, I grew up in Chicago and have a music degree. I moved to New York to pursue my career. Played in lots of bands, did lots of gigs. But I had to have a day job too so ended up working eventually for a company that installed closet organizers." Blaine seemed a little shy talking about himself, his eyes meeting Kurt's, but then darting away.

Kurt loved Blaine's large, expressive eyes. The rich hazel changed with the colors he wore, and maybe his moods too. Today, on the sunny balcony, he seemed fairly relaxed and his eyes had more of a mossy green hue. Thick, dark eyelashes and his dark eyebrows framed and made his eyes even more attractive.

His words sunk in, and Kurt tried to picture Blaine as a musician. If he was part of a band, he likely played guitar or drums. Looking at his strong hands, Kurt tried to picture drumsticks there, but it didn't seem right. Picturing Blaine holding a guitar, singing softly, seemed to fit better.

Motioning for Blaine to continue, Kurt took a sip from his cup.

"People in New York have a lot of stuff and tiny apartments. I saw a need and started my own professional organization business. And I've been working steady for the last four years now." He shrugged, but Kurt could see the quiet pride behind his words. He'd started his own business and done well with it. That wasn't easy, and it was a bit transition from being a professional musician.

Kurt's appreciation of this quiet, friendly man rose. Blaine had done a lot in his life. Kurt estimated him to be a similar age, and he'd already switched careers in a major way. Something Kurt knew he'd have to face doing soon too.

Organizer... Kurt glanced around the balcony and then back at Blaine. He typed as quickly as he could. "Did you organize this apartment then? All my stuff?"

It all came together when Blaine nodded. "Yes, I was hired to set up your apartment. Everything was in boxes and shoved into the living room. If you want anything changed, just let me know."

Oh, it made sense now. It was Adam's way of dealing with the messy end of their relationship. Kurt could all too easily picture Adam having his own things packed up and shipped back to England, and waving an imperious hand at the rest. Instructing his staff to deal with it.

Blaine unpacked it all, and worked it to fit into this smaller space. Kurt had noticed that it was done with care and attention. The books arranged well on the bookshelves, with personal mementos and framed pictures tucked into some spaces. The furniture arranged to be inviting, like this large balcony. One end had a barbecue and a small table with four chairs. There was an empty space in the middle, and the end they were sitting at had a wicker lounge chair, two armchairs, and a table. Kurt had often enjoyed sitting out here, looking out over the Brooklyn neighborhood, getting familiar with the energy of his new home.

Blaine looked pleased when Kurt assured him that he liked how everything was set up. Then Kurt asked the question he'd been pondering the most about Blaine. "But, why are you still coming back here?" The apartment was fully done.

Blaine seemed flustered by the question, and it took him a few minutes to answer. "It's hard to explain. I liked working here, getting to know the staff. I liked being able to help you, knowing your backstory and everything..."

Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Kurt's fingers flew over the tablet. "So, it's pity for me, then?" An attractive man, his age, coming to help out the poor invalid. The sad, fallen Broadway star, now with no voice, no chance for a future in the industry. Regaling his friends with stories of the former celebrity who could hardly walk across a room without assistance.

Blaine was shaking his head, holding out his hands in a placating manner. "No, no...not at all. I admired your work in the past, and respect you. I also like Hannah and she suggested reading to you. I enjoy doing it. I'd like to continue, if you'll let me." His large eyes were sincere, full of contrition.

Kurt typed again. "If it's not out of pity, then let me pay you." He tilted his chin up, watching Blaine closely. Too many times, people had been nice to Kurt, but really just wanted something from him. In the beginning, he'd taken their friendly overtures at face value, letting them get close, only to have a few weeks pass before a softly worded request came. A demo CD that Kurt could pass on to his agent or a producer. A plea to accompany him to a big party or event. A kiss in a shady corner, with over-eager hands.

Kurt learned the hard way to not get involved romantically or sexually with a fan. They were enamored of the role, the persona Kurt projected, but not the hum drum reality of Kurt. What was that old quote from Rita Hayworth? "Every man I have ever known has fallen in love with Gilda and awakened with me." There was nothing worse than seeing the excited spark of interest in someone's eyes dim as they got to know the real you. Found out you were just a regular person behind all the hype. Realized that you weren't that special.

Blaine sighed, biting his lip. "Maybe I'm overstepping here, but I'd like to continue coming, visiting you, Hannah and the other staff. But as a friend. Would that be OK?"

Looking at Blaine, taking in his earnest expression, Kurt could feel his default defensiveness softening. Blaine had already signed a confidentiality agreement. He'd been vetted. He'd worked intimately with all of Kurt's possessions, been in his space. He had been around the health care staff, like Hannah, and she liked him. Nothing strange had popped up in all this time.

And, if Kurt was perfectly honest with himself, he wanted Blaine around. He looked forward to his visits. There were times when Kurt wanted Blaine to read on in their book, wanting to find out what would happen next, but feigned getting sleepy. He didn't want the book to be over too quickly, for Blaine to decide he didn't need to come over anymore.

If they called each other friends, Blaine would probably keep coming after the book was done. And Kurt definitely wanted that.

Besides, what could Kurt offer anymore for an opportunistic person? His singinger career was over and any connections to influential people were faded with the long coma. And he wasn't exactly at his sexy best to be wanted for that reason. Kurt chuckled internally at Blaine even thinking of him like that when he could hardly get out of bed without assistance. Plus, he'd seen his reflection in the mirror. Straggly beard, longish hair, atrophied muscles, skin paler than ever from being inside for a full year, light scars from the accident on his left arm and that side of his chest. Kurt had never felt less attractive in his whole life. He hadn't even felt the urge to masturbate since waking up. He felt old and weak, barely alive.

It still seemed a bit strange that a healthy, vibrant, attractive man like Blaine would bother coming to visit him. He had a full, interesting life. Friends, dating, work. But he also seemed to have a caring side. Maybe his offer of friendship was partially pity. But Kurt found himself nodding in response to his question, and felt relieved when Blaine smiled, and acted normal as he picked up their book to continue reading.

As Blaine's rich tenor voice washed over Kurt, Kurt felt a spark of something deep inside. He wanted this friendship. Wanted to connect, be open, learn about each other.

...

-A/N: -"All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close up." This is a quote from the fantastic movie, 'Sunset Boulevard' (1950) about a former silent film star.

-"Every man I have ever known has fallen in love with Gilda and awakened with me." Vivacious Rita Hayworth starred in the 1946 film 'Gilda' and became a pin-up favorite of US servicemen