***

Blaine wakes up somewhere in the middle of central park. The trees are browning and leaves are surrounding him. The sky is darkening and, even though it isn’t dark enough yet, he can see the outline of the moon in the pinkish-orange sky. A gust of wind rolls by and knocks a pile of leaves into Blaine’s direction. He tries to swat them away but he gives up and stands. He looks down at himself and tries to pick off the pieces of multi-colored leaves. He walks over to a random tree and leans against it. He puts his black leather jacket over top of his black hoodie and zips the jacket up. He then pulls the hood over his dark curly hair.

He reaches into his jean pocket and pulls a small vile out. Blaine pops the cap and dumps the white powdery substance onto his pinky finger. He closes the vile, still balancing the contents on his pinky, and puts the vile back into his jeans pocket. He brings his pinky up to his nostril and snorts the white powder into his nose. Blaine then rests his head against the bark of the tree and closes his eyes.

Five minutes later and Blaine somehow stumbles out of the park. He walks down endless streets, not even knowing where he’s going. Suddenly, he finds a street lamp pole. He snorts a little bit more cocaine and starts giggling and swinging around the pole. The city lights begin to blur together with the car lights and the car lights begin to muse together with the stars. The moon reflects off the street puddles and plays hop scotch as cars splash by.

Blaine starts shouting, “And in all of my melancholy life have I ever seen a night so transfixed on trying to make something new.”

Then, everything stops. Blaine looks down an alley to two men standing next to a Mercedes. Blaine pulls his hood over his head and puts his hands in his pockets and starts walking towards them. The shorter, scrawnier, one is leaning into the taller man. He lets the back of his hand smooth against the other man’s face. The taller one whips his head away.

In the distance Blaine can start to hear the conversation. “C’mon, sugar, I’ll show you a good time.”

The taller one backs away and tries to get his keys out to open the door to his car, “I said no.”

“God get that cock out of your ass, will you? Have sex with me. I’m cheap. You look so uptight, like you need it.”

“I said-”

It takes Blaine five seconds to recognize the shorter one. He struts over and puts his arm around the taller ones waist. “Fuck off, Jake. This is my client tonight. I’ve already claimed him.”

“C’mon, Anderson, give it up, just this once.”

“I said,” Blaine steps in front of the taller man and growls at Jake, “fuck off.”

“Fine,” he spits out and then leaves.

Blaine turns around with his head down, “Sorry about that. The guy is a total asshole.”

“I…thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Blaine keeps his head down and starts to walk back, away from the man.

“It’s just-”

“Like I said,” Blaine turns around and everything stills. He finally looks at the man and he starts to get dizzy. It’s the man from the park, with the piercing blue eyes that Blaine has never seen up-close except for in his dreams, the strikingly beautiful face, the rich suit, and graceful voice. “…don’t um…mention it.”

“I’m Kurt.” He sticks out his hand and gives a small smile.

“Blaine.” He takes Kurt’s hand and shakes it firmly, letting himself linger a little longer than he should have and then pulls away.

Kurt blushes and turns back to his car, “So um…I’ve got to get going.”

“Oh…yeah it’s pretty late.” Blaine gives a quick upturn of the corners of his mouth and looks down at the ground again.

“Goodnight, Blaine.” Kurt unlocks his car and opens the door.

Blaine looks up at his eyes once more, “Goodnight, Kurt.”

With that, Blaine turns on his heel and walks away. He can hear the car engine in the distance start to roar. He starts running until his legs are numb. Then he starts sprinting.

***

The first thing Blaine does when he gets back to his apartment is strip his clothes off and masturbate. He doesn’t know if that makes him cheap or just desperate. But he can imagine those blue eyes staring down into his as he’s coming completely undone.

When he finishes, he reaches over his bedside drawer and pulls out a tin box. He opens it and takes out one joint. He puts the box back and blindly tries to find his lighter. When he gets it he sits on the edge of his bed and lights it. He takes three hits before falling back onto his bed. Blaine takes his notebook from off his coffee table and grabs a pen.

He takes a couple more hits and then opens the journal. He stares at the blank page. And instead of a piece of notebook paper, it’s a blank canvas. Instead of writing a poem, Blaine draws a flower, and names it Kurt.