The sporadic sob and occasional wail set the scene at the funeral home to be melancholy; the air being thick enough to cut with a knife. Rachel Berry climbed the stairs to the podium that seemed to be decorated in some couture shade of gray. Reaching the final steps of the stairs, she walks to the podium, and finds a crowd of friends, family, and loved ones; All but one. 

She looked down upon the open casket, and saw the pale and lifeless body of her lifelong friend. He looked empty, and cold. She wanted to go down there and shake him, to reassure herself that this was all just a fantasy. Just one big dream, but it wasn’t. 

 “Kurt Hummel was a great man. He was my best friend. He had a great family, and an amazing husband, but he wasn’t honestly happy. Rest in peace, baby. We all love you. Be happy with the one you truly love.” Rachel finally said before breaking down into a sob. 

Many years ago…

“Sir, I believe your father wants your presence in his office.”

“Thank you, Giles.” said Kurt with authoritative tone. “I was bored with looking at my clothes anyway.”

He walked out of his walk-in closet and stepped into his monstrous room decked out with three computers, imported rugs, and a 90-inch LCD television. His Italian shoes clicked every time he stepped on his marble floors. The sound made him feel important. Superior, even.  

He waltzed his way through his father’s mansion grazing his fingertips along the creme-colored wall, passing chefs, secretaries, assistants, and maids. Each giving him an esteemed nod, and a sort of reverent bow. Kurt loved it when they did that.

The butler standing outside his father’s office doors gently opened them revealing a freshly decorated study, full of books, encyclopedias, and dictionaries. Fire place and all. The thing Kurt hated the most about his father's office was the gaudy and downright inhumane deer head hanging about the fire place. Burt had shot it during their annual father-son hunting trip to Canada. But really, how much bonding can a gay teenager and his dad do while massacring young deer.

He walked in and his father was speaking with Mr. Cadbury, head of security. On either side of his father’s desk were the usual troop of drone and emotionless bodyguards, but there was someone hiding behind Mr. Cadbury. Kurt really wanted to know who it was, but couldn’t really see with the big gentleman in the way.

“Hey buddy! There you are!” Burt Hummel shouted with the usual enthusiasm when he noticed his son enter the room. 

“Hey, dad. Did you need me?” Kurt asked his father. Burt was the only person that Kurt didn’t have an attitude with. He knew what he had gone through with the loss of his wife, and Kurt was all he had left. He didn’t wanna break the guy more than he already was. 

“Yeah Kurt! I have a surprise for you!”

“Did the new Armani Summer 2012 collection come in?! I know I said that I wouldn’t wear anymore form-fitting sweaters that end at the knees but it’s ARMANI dad!!” Kurt spurted out without even thinking about it.

“Not at all, no.” Kurt’s face changed from ecstatic to uninterested. 

“Actually,” Burt continued,” I know you know that Hummel Industries has been growing. Just last month we landed the Ironridge deal reeling in a whopping 13 million dollars.” 

Kurt nodded; suddenly interested again.

“With that being said, our enemies have also grown. We’ve become targets for kidnappings and worse. People will do anything for my company and our money; even hurt my own family, and I can’t have that.”

“Dad. Please. Out with it.” Kurt muttered under his breath.

“We’ve hired a new body guard. One to guard you.” Burt stated. 

The room went quiet for a few minutes. Burt looked at Kurt happily, proud of his accomplishment. Kurt looked at his father as if he were completely daft. Everyone else with the same stoic look on their faces.

“What do you mean? I don’t want one. I’ll be fine dad! I don’t want some gross old man within my comfort zone twenty four hour a day.”

“That’s just the thing! I searched all over the place and found someone around your age! Mr. Cadbury?” He gestured at the large man.

“Kurt Hummel, I would like you to meet Blaine Anderson.” The man took a side step. 

Kurt was frozen in his position. He stared into the young curly haired boy’s hazel-green eyes and got lost in them. The kid was obviously fit too. Under his suit, you could see that he spent his extra time taking care of his temple, and what a temple it was. But what Kurt noticed the most was his killer smile. He walked up to Kurt, hand out to shake, and all Kurt got a waft of the Blaine’s musty, deep smell coming from the new bodyguard. Kurt couldn’t handle it. 

“Hey.” Kurt said nonchalantly, still weak at the knees. He was actually surprised he could get even that out of his mouth without sounding like a babbling idiot. Kurt was better than that. Atleast he thought he was. 

Both hands reached out for the hand shake. Kurt made first contact and what he found was that his hands were incredibly soft, yet strong. A very rare sight nowadays. Kurt had always thought that people lost the respect and devotion to a good moisturizing session.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” 

---

The walk back to Kurt’s room was weird. It’s like he walked into his dad’s office alone and left with a puppy. A freaking puppy. And that’s essentially what Blaine was. What with his gorgeous eyes, and his curly locks from heaven. Even the way he walked was so dapper, but Kurt couldn’t think this way. Ya’see Kurt had to keep his all-powerful, I-am-unbreakable façade up, especially with the help running talking about him. But there was something about Blaine. He made him feel something; something other than need for clothes, and expensive things. Kurt hated him for that.

“So, Mr. Anderson. How long have you been doing this?” Kurt demanded.

“Actually, I’ve been a bodyguard for a bunch of people. Nothing this cool though, uh… Sir.” Blaine spat out. 

"Alright. Now tell me Mr. Anderson, what do you think you know about me and my father's company?" Kurt replied.

"Well, I know that your father runs one of the country's biggest petroleum companies, but anything else is just gossip."

"Well, since you're up on all the gossip, tell me! What're they saying about me?" Kurt inquired.

"Do you really want to know? It's not all nice."

"Please! All those bloggers like to do is bash on people when they don't even know half of the story. Tell me."

"Well, okay. Basically saying how you're snotty, and gonna be a male version of Paris Hilton, and that you might become a crack addict before you turn 21."

"Damn them. Slandering my good name with their trash talk. I'm used to it." Kurt shrugged off.

“All you need to know is that I'm your boss, and you do what I say. That being said, I have 2 ground rules. First, don’t touch my clothes, my shoes, my computer, my...”

“Sir, I would never touch anything of yours.” Blaine snapped.

Taken aback, Kurt stammered, “G-good.” Immediately, he noticed in his tone that he had lost control of the situation, so he answered strongly, 

“Glad to hear that Mr. Anderson. Second rule and listen very carefully: DO-NOT-INTERFERE-IN-MY-BUSINESS.” Kurt said in an incredibly condescending tone.

“Wherever I go, whatever I do, whom so ever I talk to, that is MY business and not yours.”

“But sir, I’m your bodyguard. What if these places you go are dangerous, the people you talk to are not who they appear to be? I think I have the right to know that”

“What… What are you talking about? I know those places like the back of my hand. The people I talk to are my friends. I am not a child. I do not need a babysitter Mr. Anderson. “

“But sir-“

“No buts!” Kurt spat.

“Well… If you insist on doing that, it’s my duty to tell your father.”

Kurt stopped, frozen in his steps with a stunned look on his face. He was both disgusted and slightly turned on.

“You...” Kurt was infuriated. He didn’t take defeat easily or often actually, so all he could do was yell,

“Just make sure to keep your distance!” Kurt stormed off, head high, trying to keep his dignity intact.