The next day, after a quick kiss to Blaine's sleepy head and a promise to be back as soon as possible, Kurt went to an early morning audition his former agent, Sue – despite their estranged relationship – begrudgingly informed him about. The peace offering likely doubled as a way to sidetrack him from working with Schuester. It felt like cheating on his own show but practicality – or deep-set paranoia about good things happening to him and sticking – won out. He couldn't hang all his hopes on one show like he had before Schuester came along, the one that closed the same night he met Blaine and Schuester and thought they were the same person. Brittany still intended to audition for the Rockettes now that it was spring. Santana agreed to her car dealership in a bikini ad after stipulating that no one was allowed to so much as touch her this time. He had more experience on his resume since his last audition and he wanted to know, for his own sake, if he cut it this time.

Blaine looked beautiful with the first hints of morning light filtering in to cast shadows around his features. For all his unrest the night before, he slept soundly now. Kurt couldn't even muster a little annoyance at how many times Blaine kicked him in his sleep once he finally drifted off. Kurt could get over a little lost sleep and bruises on his shins for Blaine. He skipped on his way to the subway.

He knew when he left the audition he wasn't getting a call back. Something about him never fit with what the casting directors wanted, and he could see it plainly on their bored faces. Even with how long he waited for an audition to come along that Sue thought he had a shot at, he still didn't come close to cutting it.

With a "hmph," Kurt noted that his bed was empty upon his return, making crawling back in much less appealing. "Blaine?" Kurt called even though there was nowhere for Blaine to be within hearing distance. The audition lasted too long. Blaine must've left.

Kurt wandered back out to the kitchen to see if he could get away with some emotional eating instead. He unearthed a Tupperware container of cake hidden in the back.

"That bad?"

He turned, guiltily, at Rachel's greeting.

"I thought an audition might make me feel better. It didn't." He popped the lid open and ran the tines over the cheesecake, creating grooves. "I don't know why I bother when the answer's always the same."

Rachel retrieved her own fork and made a grabbing motion at his cake. "Have you given up on yourself?"

Kurt dodged her and leaned back against the counter so she couldn't sneak cake by surprise. "I'm trying not to." The audition sucked. Enough to make him want to eat the rest of the cake he shouldn't have made in the first place or crawl back in bed with a boyfriend who wasn't even there. He could take a positive audition as a sign that someone might hire him on merit alone, even if it ended up conflicting withLoser Like Meand he couldn't accept the offer he didn't get.

Rachel frowned. "You gave up months ago, didn't you? That's why we're doing this show with Schuester. You don't think you can make it on your own."

Kurt looked back down at his cake. Would Schuester have taken a chance on him if he'd kept his pants on in their first meeting? He hadn't wanted to take the chance. When he planned to seduce Schuester into financing his show he didn't picture such a drawn out ordeal that continually reminded him how much he hated what he was doing – what his friends and hisboyfriendwere actively preventing him from doing. All the hiding and worrying. He couldn't just let the glow of finally getting to do what he wanted for his career wash over him when it also caused the most stress and self-loathing in his life.

"You'll get thatyesyou deserve. We all know how good you are."

Kurt rewarded her cheering attempts with a weak smile. He wished Blaine hadn't left while Kurt was auditioning across the city.

He decided to allow his boyfriend space until the evening's rehearsal. And allow himself more cheesecake. He had the whole rest of the day to not squander on feeling sorry for himself. If he couldn't have Blaine, he'd conjure his alter-ego for the afternoon. Work a few more silly, sentimental lines to into Blaine's version of the script, the one where his affections are returned rather than ignored.

"What's this?" Rachel asked with a gesture to the folder Kurt retrieved from his satchel and dropped to the dining table to work.

"Blaine's version." He slapped a hand over the cover at the same time Rachel greedily reached for it. "It's too ridiculous to be seen."

"Sounds promising. If it's for Blaine, don't you like this one better than the actual script?"

Kurt shook his head. "I don't want to ruin a perfectly good story by weighing it down with some run-of-the-mill romance. That's not what I want to be known for. I want to do something that hasn't been done before."

"Clearly, if this is your idea of wooing someone with words . . ." Rachel scolded. "I realize you're lacking practice at this whole having a boyfriend thing, but no one wants to hear that they're ordinary."

"I think love stories are only interesting if you're part of them. Blaine understands the difference between what's silly and what is work I could put out there for the world to see. Me, in a love story, pretty much appeals to an audience of one." A very enthusiastic or indulgent audience, who eagerly grabbed for each new page. Kurt thought he would just write a few pages, just enough to change the ending to one Blaine would like, but Blaine kept wheedling more romantic drivel out of him. At this point Kurt didn't know who indulged who more.

"You'd have an audience of at least two," Rachel declared. "I like this side of you too."

"What, am I less uptight?" Kurt returned dryly.

Rachel was too used to Kurt in his snappish moods to be put off. "Happier, sometimes. Presumably not just because of the orgasms."

Kurt looked up from her script to give her an appraising look. "Santana is rubbing off on you."

Rachel leaned in conspiringly. "How is it? Worth the wait?"

"I don't kiss and tell," Kurt responded with more primness than he felt.

Rachel settled next to him, undeterred. "That's fine, I'm not asking about the kissing."

Kurt shrugged her off playfully. "Still private."

"I'm your best friend!"

"I'm not sure what you think that entitles you to, but I can assure you thatdetailsisn't one of them."

Rachel's eyes flicked down to the table where Kurt had his hands folded protectively over the script and back. "It's in the script, isn't it? That's why you won't show me. Kurt Hummel, you wrote porn!"

She sounded so genuinely pleased at the prospect.

He renewed pressure on top of the folder so she couldn't pry it away. Blaine's powers of persuasion broke through Kurt's sense of propriety and he had the dirty play-by-play to prove it. Their "rehearsal" made one of their more memorable afternoons, with Blaine deliberately flubbing lines so Kurt would make him start over, Blaine's eyes twinkling at his own cleverness and soothing Kurt's exasperation with unscripted kisses. Teasing Kurt to focus when he diverted from his own script. Blaine penciled in his own additions and told Kurt that he wanted to know when they next draft would be ready. Only in scriptwriting could they relive a moment over and over until they perfected it. He had an endless supply of chances to get it right.

When Kurt's silence dragged too long Rachel bumped his shoulder again but made no move for the script. "Keep your secrets, then. As long as you're happy."

Kurt couldn't help the self-satisfied grin. "Very."

Rachel hugged him and ruffled his hair as she stood up. Kurt returned to his script, taking her at her word that she wouldn't get in the way of his attempts to write.

One night of unconscious shin-kicking didn't hint at a deep-rooted issue, and neither did one night of unspoken worry – he expected Blaine to be back to his usual bubbly self by the time they met again in the evening – but if that wasn't the case Kurt would do what he could to bring a smile to Blaine's face. He didn't have much to offer Blaine, but he had words.

***

The last of the fabric for costumes came in. The official fitting wouldn't happen until the next day, but Tina pleaded with Kurt to let them open the shipment early once rehearsal was over. A "quick peek" at the unfinished costumes morphed into all the women in the cast dashing and twirling to their hearts content on the stage despite Kurt's attempt to pin the clothes first so the dresses would at least fit properly. Brittany pulled Santana into a dip and they both dissolved into giggles. Mike and Artie pulled Blaine, still in his quiet and unexplained funk from the day before, to join them.

A sense of satisfaction washed over Kurt. The finishing on the pieces he purchased left a lot to be desired and they wouldn't fit properly without being heavily tailored, and most of the fabric was ridiculously cheap quality that wasn't the weight or texture he wanted, but he'd forgive them anyway. It didn't take much to make his friends happy. Later, when no one was watching, he'd do his own running and twirling in mediocre clothes that wouldn't mean anything to him if not attached to his show.

"Kurt, are you listening?" Schuester asked.

"I can't meet you anywhere tonight," Kurt told him matter-of-factly. "We're working against a hard deadline for the costume fittings."

His tolerance for his benefactor was wearing down. Their strained relationship – and Kurt's resistance to being anywhere alone with him – made collaboration next to impossible. Will Schuester was always demanding something: usually Kurt's attention when he wasn't inclined to give it. There was too much to do even without taking placating Schuester into account, and he still wanted a few hours just to himself and his boyfriend (he still wasn't convinced Blaine was okay, functioning again though he was after a fitful sleep). As opening night drew closer Kurt took to multitasking during the rehearsals that didn't require his presence onstage. He straightened the seams of the vest spread under his fingers and realigned the pins.

Schuester crossed his arms. "You set the deadline yourself."

"And I set it in stone." Kurt returned his attention to his sewing machine. If he wasn't careful the material would snag. He needed to focus.

"Kurt." Schuester's tone chastised.

"Will," Kurt snipped right back. He quickly corrected himself. "Mr. Schuester." He didn't like the silence from his benefactor, like the calm before the storm. He didn't have to see Schuester behind him to feel his anger.

"There's always something," Schuester fumed. "The script demands your attention. The costumes. The interviews. Thecast. TonightIdemand your attention."

His voice escalated as he spoke, clearly losing patience as Kurt ignored him in favor of continuing to sew. Parts of the cast turned from the chorus scene they started rehearsing on stage to see what the trouble was now. He could see Blaine stutter in his movements.

Ignoring Schuester never paid. Kurt would ruin everything if he didn't turn and look up at Schuester as patiently as possible. He forced his expression into something more dutiful than irate.

"I expect to see you tonight. You can decide how much you really care about this show by then."

***

Red curtains swirled around them as Blaine pulled Kurt back further into the wings, heavy velvet blocking them from anyone lingering on the darkened stage after rehearsal.

Kurt looked around to see if they were being followed. "We shouldn't talk here." Sound carried well in theatres like this; that was the point of their design. Kurt didn't have time to go elsewhere, somewhere more private where they could actually be alone.

"Don't sleep with Will tonight," Blaine pleaded in a way that shocked Kurt with its urgency, his voice on the break. Blaine's fingers worked under Kurt's shirt collar to hold him close. "Or any night. I don't want you to."

Kurt stilled Blaine's grasping hands under his own. His breath was compromised enough by rising dread without exacerbation from Blaine. "Do you think I want...?" He never regretted changing his relationship with Blaine to something more intimate than friends, but he could cope better with Schuester if he had the older version of Blaine that didn't fret over him and instead said it would be easy for Kurt to sleep his way to fame and fortune if he put on the right face. If he thought of someone else he wanted.

He kept his tone wry rather than unkind. "Did you change professions and forget to tell me?" He hadn't permitted himself to be jealous, or at least not express his jealousy, when Blaine was at Dalton instead of with him. He promised Blaine he wouldn't ask too much of him. They supposedly had an understanding about not interfering with the other's work.

Blaine's voice was tinged with sadness when he mutedly replied, "Dalton's my home."

"Broadway's my dream."

"You're so talented. Kurt, you know this can't be the only way to make this happen!"

Kurt pulled out of his grip. Blaine hands clutched at empty air.

"You're better than that. I hate that he's put you in this position, playing to your anxieties about not being good enough, and I know you like to frame it as your choice but if you were thinking clearly you wouldn't choose to do this to your career!"

Kurt's voice grew colder. "I haven't complained once about your profession. I don't make demands of you. You knew I intended to follow through on this before we started dating. I don't know why this even matters to you. It's just sex."

Blaine's eyes filled with tears. "How can you say that? You don't believe that."

"My body's not a fucking temple, Blaine! How's it different than what you do?" If Blaine was going to cry then Kurt couldn't. Someone had to function, and someone had to follow through, and everything was just going to be hard for him and Blaine made it harder. "You knew this was going to happen," Kurt repeated. "You knew."

His friends helped him put it off for so long. He knew. He knew they couldn't keep postponing. Everything had its cost.

"Don't. Don't do anything you'll regret."

Kurt whispered furiously in return, "Mr. Schuester holds the key to everything in this performance. Without him there's no funding, no theatre, no names attached to it that mean anything. We go back to having nothing. We've come so far." He knew when he chose Schuester producing his show over no production at all that Schuester would make demands of his own. All the support – the connections, the publicity, the funds to buy costumes and sets and lights – didn't come freely.

Kurt couldn't stand those dark, sad eyes fixed on him. Kurt liked Schuester's demands even less than Blaine did. Couldn't Blaine appreciate that? But everything had its cost.

"I love you. You know I love you. That has to be enough."

Blaine nodded despite how little he agreed with nearly everything Kurt just said.

***

Blaine hated the way he left things with Kurt, both of them distracted by what was to come until Blaine let Kurt slip away to get ready and then Blaine bolted to the subway and prayed Kurt took as long as Blaine anticipated. He had to be faster than Kurt.

He blamed his own inability to express his wants, even to himself, for this mess. He told himself he was fine. He told everyone else the same. Everything seemed under control until it wasn't in a staggering way that made clear he should have both seen his own unhappiness coming and avoided having a direct hand in exacerbating it.

He could let Sebastian continue to use the council to toy with him in safe obscurity that would give him a few months to a few years before Kurt realized Blaine was an unnecessary liability. He could let Hunter use him, lose Kurt even quicker, and gain fame in a way he didn't want. Or he could try for something completely different and hope all the moving pieces aligned.

That night, Schuester opened at the insistent pounding on the door that came earlier than expected. On the other side, Blaine pleadingly looked up at him.

"I need your help."

He loitered outside the building for what couldn't have been more than ten anxious minutes that seemed like forever alone in the dark, waiting to slip in behind someone else entering in hopes that Schuester wouldn't be able to say no to his face.

Schuester blinked at Blaine in surprise. "I'm supposed to be meeting Kurt."

Blaine slipped in before Schuester could turn him down. "Please. I can't wait another day. You're the only one I could think to go to. I didn't know what else to do." Blaine backed into the room as he spoke and invited himself to sit down on the couch. Schuester had to entertain him now. He crossed his ankles, hands folded in his lap, and waited for Schuester's White Night Syndrome to kick in. It didn't take long. Schuester hurried into the kitchen and back to hand Blaine a glass of water.

"I'm sorry for barging in on you. This isn't like me. Nothing I've donefor yearsis like me. I've came so far from what I wanted for myself. This isn't the life I wanted to have." A lump rose in his throat. He tugged at the collar of his constricting button-up. Schuester's eyes followed the movement. "I didn't want this."

Schuester slid next to him on the couch. "You can tell me about it." He sat closer than was strictly necessary.

Blaine gulped down the water. "I ran away when I was 16. I arrived in New York from a small town where I'd never seen anything so decadent. I had no money, no plans, and nowhere to go but I just . . . I wanted everything. I've been selling my body ever since. I don't want to live this life anymore. You can help me. I want out. Ineedto get out."

Schuester leaned forward in intrigue the second the wordsselling my bodyescaped Blaine's lips. "That's terrible. Blaine, you know you can always come to me. Helping young people like you is my passion."

"ThewhorehouseI'm in found out about the show." Blaine spit the words vehemently. "They're furious. I don't know what'll happen to me if I stay in the production. I can't risk everything for a bit part but you, you could prepare me for something more. I don't want this to be the end. I've had a taste of what my life could be like if I were free. They're afraid of publicity, but that's the one thing that will keep me safe. They wouldn't dare harm me then." He reached for Schuester's hand but pulled back before they touched. "Make me a star."