Kurt decided that the best therapy was French pastry therapy. 

He smiled down at his chocolate cake, eight macarons, lemon tartlet, and eclairs from Le Panier and suddenly the world felt light again. Like life was worth living.

It didn't matter that there were fucking letters on buses now instead of numbers, because he had pastries from his favorite bakery.

He was going to be okay.

He crossed the street to push through the main market area, weaving past the dozens of Seattlites and tourists. Unable to wait, he took the succulently delicious lemon tartlet out of the box and flicked his tongue over the curd on top, a smile perking his lips as the sweet and sour and sunny taste melted in his mouth. 

He was knocked off balance slightly by someone walking past him and he stumbled back, trying to catch his balance before two large and warm hands steadied his shoulders.

"Kurt!"

Kurt blinked in surprise, looking up at the man from Miro. His hair was a lot more orderly but the scruff remained.

Against his will, he felt his cheeks begin to heat up and he took a large bite of lemon tart to distract himself.

“Uh, I know Quinn, from Miro Tea, and you stopped by last night?” the man tried again with a half sorta-smile.

Oh, Kurt remembered. It's not like he'd asked Quinn a million questions when she'd gotten home about what the man in all black had been doing there--author writing a book--and what he'd been drinking--Earl Grey tea, straight up.

He opened his mouth to say something. Anything.

“Have you ever had any of the pastries from Le Panier?”

Well...that would have to do.

The man looked taken aback. "I--"

“Because they’re really very good,” Kurt said. “Here, try.” He jammed the rest of the lemon tart into the man's mouth.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Kurt said dryly, panicking internally at what the hell he was exactly doing before he turned on his heel and rushed off through the crowd, weaving as he headed back around through the market towards 1st Street.

"Hey!" he heard the man behind him, catching up as they passed the donuts, putting a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Why aren't you in school?"

Kurt ignored him, as well as the low swooping in his stomach from the man's hand.

“It’s just past noon and it’s Friday,” the man tried again. “Don’t you have high school?”

“I don’t go to school,” Kurt said in a clipped voice. “It’s not really the thing for me.”

His homeschooling had been...limited to say the least. And he'd never been to public school

“But you’re…” the man panted behind him. “How old are you exactly?”

Kurt turned, nearly causing the man to run into him as he looked up into his big hazel eyes, feeling the air stand still between them. “I’ve lived a thousand horrific lives by now, each more terrifying than the rest and this one is but a mere respite, the eye of the storm before I let oblivion take me again.”

The man stared at him like he was crazy.

Kurt sighed. He'd had such high hopes for this writer. “I’m sixteen. Honestly. Adults have no concept of humor nowadays.” He turned to the massive magazine stand and started plucking up volumes. “And this is all I need to learn, right here.” He piled his arms high with various Vogues and Ws and GQs and Elles, a small smile gracing his lips as he stroked over the glossy covers.

“Isn’t it the law that you have to go to school?” the man protested.

Kurt shifted the magazines to one arm and reached up to tap the man’s nose cheekily. “Ah yes, but therein lies the problem.” He leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest as he breathed over the oddly perfect ear, his lips nearly grazing the skin. “I can’t go to school because I don’t exist.”

Kurt leaned back, putting his hand in his pocket hurriedly as he internally cheered at the man's blown pupils.

“Thanks for paying for my education, Mr. Earl Grey,” he grinned before turning quickly and leaving, adrenalin pumping through his veins as he shifted the magazines under his arms. 

He waited until he got to 4th and went several blocks south until he was standing in front of the fairytale dresses on display in the windows of Luly Yang before taking the credit card he'd lifted off the man from his pocket, smiling down at the gleaming metallic gold plastic.

Blaine Anderson

Kurt licked his lips, trying the name out on his lips, liking the familiarity of it and also wondering vaguely why it reminded him of Baa Baa Black Sheep. 

He tucked the card back into his pocket before heading over to 5th to shop.

"Thank you, Blaine Anderson," he grinned before pushing the door to Barneys open.