October 20, 2022

Over the past two months, watching Kurt in the mirror has quickly become a nearly nightly occurrence. Blaine tells himself he is doing this for Kurt, so he can be a better friend to him, to make Kurt happy.

Like the time when Blaine sees Kurt sitting cross-legged on his couch with a mini-keyboard across his lap. He plays a few notes on the keyboard, then leans over it to scrawl in pencil across an individual sheet of paper. Blaine squints to make sense of the lines and dots on the page, but when Kurt picks up a stack of the papers and flips through them, Blaine is able to see the five repeated horizontal lines of the staff paper. He's writing music!

Unsure of how to bring this up in a future conversation, Blaine scrambles up from his bench in the walk-in closet, pausing in front of his bathroom mirror to smooth his hair into place before bounding out the front door. In a few strides he is standing in front of Kurt's apartment and knocking briskly on the door.

Kurt must have looked through the peep hole because he is already saying, "Blaine! How are you?" before he swings the door fully open.

"Hi, Kurt. I'm doing very well, thanks. And you?" Blaine says with a broad smile.

"Pretty good. Um, what's going on?" Kurt asks expectantly.

Blaine peers into the apartment behind Kurt, expecting Kurt to take a step back and invite him in. But Kurt's feet remain planted on the floor, his body blocking the entrance. Searching his mind for an excuse for his intrusion, he blurts out, "Toothpaste!" At Kurt's puzzled look he adds, "I mean, I ran out of toothpaste and was wondering if I could borrow some. I was hoping to avoid a trip to the drugstore until the morning." Blaine smiles innocently, hoping his excuse sounds plausible.

Kurt wraps an arm tight around his waist, clutching his other arm with his hand. Frowning, he steps back and pulls the door a few inches closer to its frame. Kurt opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Blaine cuts in frantically. "Oh, God, Kurt. I'm sorry. I know I sound just like your creepy neighbor who used to ask to borrow weird things all the time."

Kurt relaxes a bit and huffs out a laugh, "Yeah, you kind of do. You don't really need toothpaste do you? At this time of day?"

Blaine hangs his head down to stare at his feet, then looks up at Kurt hopefully. "This might make me sound even worse, but I actually just made that up because I felt silly about why I really am here."

"I'm not sure if that's better or worse," Kurt says slowly. "What is the real reason?"

I can't stay away from you. I think I'm in love with you. I want to know everything about you. "Well, I was wondering – oh God, this is really embarrassing – do you have a scale?"

At Kurt's puzzled look, Blaine continues, "Like a bathroom scale – to weigh yourself with? I'm about to start a new exercise regimen and I was hoping to get a baseline – but I don't own a scale yet." Blaine knows that Kurt has a scale. Kurt had once mentioned that he weighs himself first thing every morning. Asking to use the scale is perfect because it can plausibly be considered an embarrassing request and to use it, Blaine can step into the apartment and "just happen to notice" the music-writing implements in the living room.

Blaine laughs sheepishly and grinds his toe back and forth on the hallway rug. "I didn't really want you to know about it. I was kind of hoping I could use the toothpaste excuse to somehow get myself alone in your bathroom so I could use the scale without you ever knowing. Which is a dumb plan, really. I mean, I don't even know if you have a scale, let alone if you keep it in the bathroom."

Kurt still looks skeptical. "I can tell you where you can buy one around here. Or you know, you can order one on-line."

"Well, I suppose I could..." Blaine drags the sentence out, searching his mind frantically for a way to gain Kurt's sympathy. He looks Kurt directly in the eye. "I guess I'm just not ready to admit to total strangers that I care about my weight. So I don't really want to go to a store. And I did order one online, but I couldn't afford fast shipping, so I have to wait a week or two for it. And I'm kind of anxious to find out where I stand." Blaine bends his head and rubs his face with his hand in what he hopes is a passable imitation of shame. "I can't believe I just told you all of that. It's so embarrassing, God."

Kurt drops his arm to his side. In a gentle voice he says, "Please don't be embarrassed about weighing yourself. I think it's a great discipline. It can help you get motivated when you don't feel like exercising..." Kurt pauses for a moment and his eyes widen. "Oh God, I'm doing it again. I totally lectured a really good friend in high school about her weight and almost ruined our friendship. I really should just shut up and let you in."

"Oh, no, it's okay, really. You aren't doing anything wrong," Blaine says reassuringly.

Kurt steps back in invitation, waving Blaine through the door. "I really am trying to learn my lesson and just stay out of people's business when it comes to their weight and health. Of course you can use my scale. You just do what you need to do and I'll stay out of your way. It's on the floor in the bathroom – right through there and on the right." Kurt points toward the hallway leading from the kitchen back toward the bedroom. "I'm just going to straighten up," Kurt says as he walks into the living room.

Blaine pokes his head into the living room after Kurt and asks with forced incredulity, "You have a keyboard? That's so cool. May I try it out?"

"Sure," says Kurt, following Blaine into the living room. "Do you play?"

In response, Blaine sets the keyboard on his lap and pounds out the opening notes of Billy Joel's "Piano Man".

"You're quite good," says Kurt appreciatively.

"Thanks," says Blaine. "This is a good model. It has a great sound." He plays a few chords and scales before setting the keyboard back down on the table. This leads quite naturally to Blaine discovering the papers covered with musical notes and lyrics. "Did you write this?" Blaine asks, picking up one of the pages to take a closer look.

Kurt snatches the paper from Blaine's hand. "Yes, it's a musical I've been working on."

"You're writing a musical? That's amazing," Blaine gushes. "What's it about?"

"Oh, nothing interesting," Kurt says, clutching the paper close to his chest. "Or at least, I don't think it would interest anyone other than me."

"I'm interested," says Blaine seriously. "Really, Kurt. Please tell me about it."

"Well, I haven't gotten very far with it," Kurt mumbles to the floor, a blush rising on his cheeks. "I have a basic outline of the plot and a few of the songs are almost finished. But I don't even have a title for it or anything."

"You still haven't told me what it's about," says Blaine, intrigued.

"I guess you could say it's about trust and all the different ways trust can be broken – lies, betrayals, secrets."

"Oh," Blaine says quietly, a chill creeping up his spine. His first thought is to change the subject. After all, lies, betrayals and secrets are the last topics Blaine wants to discuss with the friend he spies on. But the desire to know everything about this intriguing man burns deeper than Blaine's fear of discovery. He asks, "What, um, inspired that?"

"It's a bit autobiographical, I'm embarrassed to admit. But that's why I don't think it would interest anyone else. I'm not planning to try to get it produced or even to share it with anyone. It's just cathartic for me to write it," Kurt explains, gathering the papers spread across the coffee table and taming them into a neat pile.

"I dabble in writing music," says Blaine. "Mostly songs that I sing and play on the guitar. But I usually write them with an audience in mind. I don't think I've ever written a song just for myself. I'm not sure if I'd ever need to. That's probably because I think that singing for an audience is the epitome of cathartic."

"Well, maybe I'll share it someday," Kurt concedes. "I'm not sure that the world is ready to hear my sordid tales of failed romance just yet."

"You know, sometimes it helps to just talk about it," Blaine says hopefully. "I would be happy to listen. I can even share some of my own tales of woe." And if I understand what happened to you that left you so skittish about relationships, maybe I can help you move past it.

"That's kind of you," Kurt says uncertainly. "But I really can't imagine that your woes are really anything like mine. At least, for your sake, I certainly hope not."

"I've been stood up. I've been dumped," Blaine insists.

"No, you have nothing on my sad story," Kurt says with a sigh. "I won't bore you with the details, but I've been humiliated, cheated on, lied to, harassed, and betrayed in some pretty horrible ways."

"God, Kurt. I'm so sorry," starts Blaine, reaching out for Kurt's hand.

Kurt steps back before Blaine can make contact, wrapping both arms tightly around his waist. In an overly bright voice he says, "And that's why I don't talk about this. Really, it's fine. I'm over it – mostly. Like I said, writing this helps." He picks up the stack of papers and shuffles through them. "Or usually it does. Sometimes writing music can be so frustrating. I'm completely stuck on this one song. Writing the lyrics is pretty easy for me, but I have a harder time with the music. I just can't get the right melody to go with the lyrics."

Blaine wants to push Kurt to tell him more, wants to comfort him. But Kurt has made it clear that he prefers to move on to a different topic, so Blaine says, "I write music, too. I might be able to help you with that."

Kurt clutches the music close to his chest and steps back again, shaking his head. "Like I said, this is a bit personal. So thanks, but no."

"You don't need to share the lyrics with me, but if you play the melody you have so far and tell me what you think is wrong with it, I really might be able to help you," Blaine says earnestly. "I'm a pretty good composer."

"I'm not really sure if that will work, but I guess we could try it." Kurt shuffles through the papers again and pulls several from the stack. He sits down beside Blaine on the couch and pulls the keyboard onto his lap. After a moment of hesitation, he hands the selected pages to Blaine. "Actually, I suppose I could let you see the lyrics for this one song. It's less about plot details and more about the emotions behind the story."

Today, sitting at his desk in his apartment, Blaine smiles as he remembers several late nights sitting on Kurt's couch, keyboard perched in his lap, their heads leaning in close together as they study the staff paper together or sing snippets of their creation in harmony. And he gained some valuable insight into Kurt's past relationships. Earning Kurt's trust is a daunting task, but Blaine has never shied away from a challenge. Oh right, I really should order a scale, Blaine thinks as he flips his laptop open. Just in case Kurt ever wants to use my bathroom.

Yes, Blaine uses what he learns from watching Kurt to grow closer to him. Watching Kurt helps Blaine get to know him better and to make him happy. Like when he saw Kurt reading Vogue and saw that there was no mailing label on the back. So Blaine scoured searched online to find the stores in New York City that are first to get new issues on their shelves, then took a trip to Manhattan that Wednesday to pick up a copy. The next morning at coffee, Kurt beamed when Blaine presented it to him, days earlier than he would find it at the local convenience store.

Or the time Blaine found a set of high quality sketchbooks at a flea market. He told Kurt that one of the art therapists at the hospital was cleaning out a closet and offered them, and that Blaine had snatched them up thinking Kurt might like them. Kurt's nose wrinkled up in delight and his smile lit up the room.

And when Blaine sits on his bench in front of the glass and watches Kurt touch himself, when guilt starts to creep back into his mind, he reminds himself of that day in mid-August when he saw Kurt crying and knocked on his door with some invented pretext to offer the comfort Kurt was too proud to seek. And if Blaine enjoys watching Kurt's expressive face, tantalizing clothing, quirky habits, and occasional kinky foray, what is the harm in that?

October 29, 2022

As they sip their coffee that morning, Blaine turns his phone toward Kurt. "My friend Wes sent this to me. Check it out."

Kurt dutifully trains his eyes on the latest It Gets Better video while Blaine talks over the sound. "I love this organization and all they've done for people. But seeing this just reminds me that kids are still getting harassed so much for being who they are." Blaine stares at his hands wrapped around the warm cup of coffee. "And that some of them think it's easier to just end everything than to muddle through to the better. It's tragic, you know? It pisses me off that they have to muddle through at all."

Blaine's gaze drifts back to Kurt and he freezes at the stricken look on his friend's face. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt focuses his glistening eyes onto Blaine. With a quiver in his voice he says, "Yeah, I'm okay. This just brings up a lot of old memories from high school."

"You were bullied?" Blaine asks.

Kurt blinks back the tears threatening to spill out and nods. "It was pretty bad." He smiles wryly. "The jocks of Lima, Ohio never really appreciated the full glory that is Kurt Hummel's sense of style. I can't tell you how many vintage pieces I saved up for only to have them ruined when some Neanderthal threw flavored sugar water with shaved iced and red dye number 5 in my face or tossed me in the dumpster with yesterday's spaghetti."

"Kurt, that's awful," Blaine says compassionately. "You didn't ever think about...hurting yourself, did you?"

"No. Not seriously, anyway. I wasn't the only one getting bullied, though I think I had it a lot worse than some of the others." Kurt looks into the distance thoughtfully. "But I handled it okay on my own. I daydreamed a lot about making it big and having all those Neanderthals work for me."

"Did you ever fight back?"

"Not really. Most of them were a lot bigger than me. So I opted for getting slammed against the lockers on a daily basis instead of provoking them. But I had a few fierce verbal comebacks, especially when they tried to push around the girls from my Glee club."

"I take it the teachers and administrators weren't much help?" asks Blaine, leaning forward with interest.

"No, most of the time they didn't notice or they didn't care. My Glee advisor did try to help one time when it was particularly bad. But nothing changed."

"What happened?"

"There was this one bully who was worse than the others. He seemed to target all his hate and homophobia on me. It was really getting me down. The Glee advisor, Mr. Schuester, found me after one of my encounters with Dave and talked with me about it. He took it to the principal and was laughed out of his office."

"Public school, right?" Blaine asks knowingly.

"Yeah, we couldn't afford a private school or I might have transferred after that. It kept getting worse. I felt like I was in some kind of horror movie and every time I turned a corner, there was Dave, ready to throw me against the lockers or fling a cold drink in my face. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I ran after him." Kurt pauses dramatically and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. "I stupidly followed him into the locker room – alone."

"Oh my God. What happened?" Blaine grips the edge of the table hard, his knuckles just beginning to turn white.

"He kissed me," Kurt deadpans.

"What? Are you joking?" Please be joking.

"No. It turns out that his hatred of all things gay was mostly self-directed."

"What did you do?" Blaine asks.

"I kept his secret. And I tried to talk with him as much as I could. I was the only openly gay guy at my school. Dave was a football jock at the top of the social ladder. I thought that if he came out, we could make some real strides toward tolerance."

"Did he? Come out, I mean?"

"No. But we started dating. In secret, of course."

Blaine thinks for a moment before asking hesitantly, "Was that your first..."

"Yes."

Oh God, Blaine thinks. No wonder he's so terrified of dating. "Your first boyfriend physically harassed you every day?"

"It sounds terrible when you put it that way," Kurt laughs mirthlessly. "After we got together, he stopped bullying me and just ignored me at school. And he actually was pretty sweet when we were alone. So it didn't seem so bad at the time, while it lasted."

Blaine just quirks an eyebrow and waits in silence.

Kurt holds Blaine's gaze, locking his face in a stoic expression. The silence continues, and Kurt looks away. "Oh, who am I kidding, it was a terrible idea. It ended in a horrible public humiliation at our junior prom when he, predictably, chose self-preservation over me. It was the first in a short but painful string of extremely horrible relationships, as I've mentioned before. Hence, I'm not interested in dating. Never again."

"Well, yes, that guy seems like a poor choice," Blaine says slowly. "But I'm sure you've learned from the past. It's not a reason to shut the door on dating forever." It's not a reason to not date me.

"No, you don't know the details. And no, I really don't want to go into it right now. If ever," Kurt says, his words speeding up and his voice reaching an ever higher pitch as he continues. "It was bad – really bad. And not just with Dave. If anything, it got worse from there."

"But he was a bully. There are plenty of guys who would treat you right," Blaine argues. I would never hurt you. Just give me a chance.

Kurt laughs dismissively. "Believe me, I thought I was being careful after that. I guess I'm just a magnet for creeps masquerading as nice guys."

Blaine startles as if punched in the gut at hearing Kurt's favorite word for his previous neighbors. Neighbors who watched Kurt through the same one-way mirror Blaine uses almost daily.

"What? What did I say?" Kurt asks.

Blaine realizes he is staring, open-mouthed and silent, at his confused neighbor. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "No, you didn't say anything wrong. I'm, um, just really sorry that happened to you," Blaine says morosely, not sure if he's referring to the bullying, Kurt's sad dating history, the creepy neighbors, or his own violation of Kurt's trust. "And I'm sorry to have reminded you of...all of it...with that video."

"No, I'm glad you showed it to me," Kurt says easily, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture and hands his phone back to him. "It's good to talk about these things and get to know each other better." Kurt pauses, looking at Blaine searchingly. "But why did your friend send you this video? I have a hard time picturing boxer Blaine getting bullied."

Blaine releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding, grateful for the opening to focus on his more distant memories. "Well, there's a reason I took up boxing. I had some pretty harrowing experiences in high school, too. I can't say it ever involved food or drinks, but I did get beat up a few times."

Kurt's mouth drops open. "God, Blaine. That's awful. What did you do?"

"I ran away." At Kurt's shocked look, he hurriedly clarifies, "I mean, I transferred to a private school. Dalton was great. It had a no bullying policy that was actually enforced – and a killer Glee club. I loved it there. But I always did regret running away instead of standing up to the bullies. I really admire you."

"Well, as I said, I didn't really have a choice," Kurt says, looking down and flushing modestly. "Plus, I wouldn't say I stood up to them exactly. Although I did have a few fierce comebacks," he smiles wistfully as he remembers. "But you better believe I left for New York as soon as I could."

"Yes, I'm so glad to be in New York, too," Blaine says, smiling. "And I get to live next door to an up-and-coming star in interior design and the fashion world. I guess they're right. It does get better."

This earns Blaine one of those rare toothy grins from Kurt and Blaine beams back at him, feeling like everything is right with the world once more.

November 8, 2022

Blaine dances from one end of the kitchen to the other, pausing occasionally to squat, push out his ass, and bounce in a rather poor imitation of twerking. He sings out loud with Miley Cyrus on his iPod's nostalgia playlist as he flits from one site of the small kitchen to the other, pulling out a mixing bowl, beaters, sugar, and heavy whipping cream. Blaine has the cream whipped into a beautiful fluffy mound just as the oven timer beeps. Blaine dances over to the oven, opening the door and beaming at the golden crisp crust and the delicate smell of warm apple pie.

He sets the pie out to cool and pulls out a large plate and two forks. He turns off the music before cutting into the pie. Presentation is everything and he wants this dessert to look perfect. He rejects his first two attempts at cutting an even slice and finally accepts the third and fourth pieces, moving them carefully from the pie plate to the dinner plate. He tops each off with a generous tuft of whipped cream and quickly peeks through the mirror one last time to verify that Kurt is still in his living room, pencil moving rapidly across his sketch pad.

Satisfied at last, Blaine holds the plate in one hand and steps out to knock on Kurt's door.

A few days ago, Blaine sat in rapt attention on his bench in front of the one-way mirror as Kurt dipped his finger into the whipped cream on top of what must have been a cup of hot chocolate, and sensually licked and sucked his finger clean while fixing the mirror with a searing gaze.

Blaine also has noticed over the past few months that Kurt seems to have two favorite desserts – cheesecake and apple pie. He has on several occasions enjoyed watching Kurt's face contort in orgasmic pleasure as he savors one of these two delights.

In a moment of inspiration, only somewhat spurred on by a commercial he sees while catching up with Dancing with the Stars on Hulu, Blaine decides to make Kurt a treat. He smiles, silently congratulating himself on pairing one of Kurt's favorite tastes with one of his own favorite visuals.

This time Kurt swings the door open, stepping back immediately and gesturing Blaine inside, staring at the plate with wide eyes. "Ooooh, apple pie!" he squeals with delight. "Blaine, that's one of my favorites. Is it homemade?"

Blaine answers proudly, "Absolutely. I even made the crust from scratch. And I whipped the cream. But stop gawking and start eating, before it gets cold."

"That's so sweet of you to bring me a piece. Let me grab another plate," Kurt says as he skips toward the appropriate cabinet.

"Yeah, it was easier to bring it over this way," Blaine says apologetically as Kurt carefully scoots one piece with a fork and his finger to another, smaller plate.

"Well I certainly wouldn't have wanted you to drop one on the way over. Let's take this into the living room," Kurt says as he leads the way.

Blaine holds his plate in his lap, eyes glued to Kurt, who turns his plate this way and that, studying the piece of pie from every angle. "This looks so good," Kurt says, dipping his finger into the whipped cream. Blaine stares, slack jawed, as Kurt sits just two feet from him, sucking in his cheeks and moaning pornographically. I knew it! It's even better in person. Blaine tucks his hand under his thigh, resisting his brain's loud call to pump his fist in the air in victory.

Just as Kurt pulls out his finger with a loud pop, he realizes Blaine is staring at him, frozen. Kurt's cheeks flush red and his eyes widen. "Oh God, did I just do that?" he asks incredulously, holding his hand over his eyes.

"Oh hey, don't mind me," Blaine teases. "I'm just glad you like it."

"Live alone for a while and you lose all your table manners. Sorry," Kurt mumbles through his fingers.

In an attempt to put his friend back at ease, Blaine asks, "What were you up to tonight, anyway?"

Kurt peeks out from beneath his fingers, and seeing Blaine chewing on a piece of pie, he sags back into his seat and points at the sketchbook, now closed on the table. "I was working on some designs."

"You sketch clothing ideas in there, right?" Blaine asks.

"Yes, and other things," says Kurt. "Sometimes I draw out my designs for spaces, too. That can really help get the creative ideas flowing. Or I doodle various things. I find it relaxing."

"May I take a look?" Blaine asks, setting his half-empty plate on the table next to the sketchbook. "My hands are clean," he says, holding them up for inspection for a moment before reaching for the book.

Kurt huffs out an embarrassed chuckle and shrugs. "Be my guest. There's nothing particularly interesting in there, though."

"I beg to differ," Blaine says sincerely as he flips through the pages, marveling at sketch after sketch. Interspersed among the pencil drawings of jackets, pants, vests, and ties are the occasional flowing lines of a dress, usually filled in with colored pencil. Blaine's eyes widen as he looks at the interior design sketches. These are all in color – some in pencil and others in what looks like watercolor. "The detail is amazing, Kurt. These are beautiful."

Kurt mumbles a thank you with a shy smile and reaches out for the book. But Blaine flips the page and gasps at the sophisticated shading of a self-portrait in charcoal. "Wait," he says, drawing back from Kurt's outstretched hand. "This is amazing. Do you have more of these?"

Kurt half stands and hovers over the book, peering at the page upside down. "Oh, yes. I do portraits sometimes, too."

Blaine turns the page and marvels at several other portraits, men and women, drawn with such lifelike detail, each face expressing layers of emotion. Kurt twists his shirt nervously between his fingers and murmurs, "I draw a lot of my interior design clients. I'll sketch them quickly during a meeting when they aren't looking and then fill it in from memory later. I people watch at the coffee shop and sketch there too, when I'm alone."

Blaine looks at Kurt with awe. "These aren't just sketches, Kurt. Don't sell yourself short. You're an amazing artist."

"Thanks," Kurt says, still looking down, but with the hints of a smile at the edges of his lips. He looks up and meets Blaine's eyes and his smile spreads. "You're an artist, too, right?"

"No," says Blaine. "I can't draw or paint to save my life." He passes the sketchbook back to Kurt and picks up the plate of pie once more.

"I mean your music, silly," Kurt says enthusiastically. "Music is totally art. You play piano and guitar and sing and write music. That's art. And you use it to help people. No one ever sees what I draw. And when I sing I just use it to entertain – or to occupy myself in the shower."

Blaine almost chokes on a piece of pie at the thought of other things Kurt might do to occupy himself in the shower, then flushes with shame at Kurt's next words. "Plus, you're so open about your art, singing and playing instruments with those kids at the hospital. In comparison, I'm a bit creepy myself. When I sketch people, I usually don't ask permission. I just watch them from afar. At least you don't steal people's privacy and use it for your own gratification," Kurt insists.

"Well, I wouldn't describe people watching – or even sketching – as stealing someone's privacy," Blaine says slowly, feeling alternately angry at Kurt's previous neighbor for spying on him and ashamed of himself for doing the same. Blaine is not ready to confess, but he does want to step down from the completely undeserved pedestal Kurt seems to be building for him. "I'm not totally altruistic, either. I like to entertain, too, as you know from our karaoke adventure. And I admit that I like the idea of being famous someday. In fact, I've been checking out bars and coffee houses with open mic nights, hoping I'll be discovered or something."

"Oh, that's a great idea," Kurt exclaims, bouncing up and down excitedly. "And there's nothing wrong with being famous. You can probably help a lot more people that way. So, when are you playing? I've got to come and hear you."

"Well, like I said, I've just started to look into possible venues." Which is particularly difficult when you spend all of your time either watching your neighbor or coming up with schemes to spend more time with him. It really kills your drive to write and perform new songs, too. Blaine clears his throat and adds, "I'll let you know when I book something."

November 15, 2022

It turns out that Kurt's interest in hearing him sing is a great motivator for Blaine. He soon has an open mic night for a local bar penciled in on his calendar.

Over coffee that morning, Kurt asks, "So, what's on your agenda for the rest of the day?"

"I'm hoping for a light day at work. This past week has been tiring." It's pretty hard to keep up a full schedule of practicing guitar, hunting for open mic nights, and watching Kurt as often as possible.

"I've got a crazy day ahead of me," Kurt says, sounding more exhilarated than annoyed. "Three client meetings in three boroughs – and not one of those is the Bronx. And I'm sure there'll be some frantic shopping trips in between."

"Sounds busy – just like you like it," Blaine says, smiling.

"You already know me so well," Kurt says airily. "Do you have plans after work?"

"Are you asking me out?" Blaine asks with a flirty lilt. Kurt glares at him, un-amused.

Hesitantly, Blaine continues. "Well – I might stop by Beckstones to check it out. There's an open mic night there next week."

"You mean that tapas place near the hospital?"

"Yeah, though from what I hear it's more famous for the margaritas than the tapas. Have you been?"

"No, I've just walked past it and remembered the name. When's the open mic night? I'd love to drop by and hear your set."

"It's on Sunday night. I think it starts around eight. I'll only get to sing one or two songs, though, depending on how many other people sign up." Blaine takes a large sip of coffee to keep himself from breaking out into a pleased grin.

"Sounds good," Kurt says. "You can sing your songs and then we can grab some dinner and scope out your competition for the steady gigs."

Blaine can't keep from beaming, but Kurt's gaze is on the table as he gathers up his empty cup and napkins. "See you later," Kurt says distractedly, already halfway to the trash can.

"Okay," Blaine says quietly to Kurt's retreating back. His grin is so wide that he gets comments from passers-by on his way to the subway.

November 18, 2022

On Saturday afternoon, Blaine jogs home from the gym, smiling proudly at the slight burn in his arms and legs. He spends twenty minutes in the shower, at least half of which consists of turning back and forth to feel the pulse of nearly scalding hot water beat against each aching muscle. After patting himself down quickly with a towel, he heads to his bedroom to search for fresh clothes. Still rubbing his hair with the towel, he swings the closet door open and freezes.

Kurt is standing right in front of the mirror, peering into it. Oh shit! Blaine holds the towel in front of his crotch and ducks behind the door. Okay, okay, calm down. I've tried that before. I know he can't see through the mirror.

After breathing deeply a few times, Blaine's curiosity wins out and he peeks around the door. Kurt has stepped back and is now spraying the mirror with a clear liquid from a fancy purple and gold spray bottle. There is nothing printed on the bottle. The clear liquid runs down the mirror as Kurt continues to spray generously. When he reaches for a roll of paper towels on the table behind him, Blaine remembers Kurt telling him that he sometimes makes his own cleansers to avoid any negative affect that harsh chemicals might have on his skin.

Blaine steps back into the closet, still holding the towel in front of him loosely, and watches Kurt with fascination. Kurt is standing close to the mirror, vigorously wiping the mirror clean and dry with the paper towel. As he wipes each section dry, Blaine can see the contrast between what he had thought was a clear, clean image and the much sharper, crisper view he now has through the newly cleaned mirror. Wow, that works really well. It's going to be even more amazing when I clean it from my side, too. I'll have to get the recipe for that home-made cleaner from Kurt.

Blaine takes a step closer to the mirror. He is standing directly across from Kurt now. He's never been this close to Kurt's face and he revels in the new discoveries he makes – the faint freckles that adorn his nose, the length of his eyelashes, the hint of stubble scattered across his cheeks, the tiny break in the line of his eyebrows. Kurt straightens and gives the mirror a sweeping, searching look. Blaine is very aware of their slight difference in height. A thrill vibrates through his stomach as he glances up to look into Kurt's eyes – so very blue in this light.

Kurt glances slightly down, as if he is gazing directly into Blaine's eyes. Blaine's breath hitches as Kurt leans in, eyes fluttering, lips moving toward Blaine's own. Blaine leans closer as well, startled when his nose bumps into hard glass. He draws back and gasps as Kurt's mouth opens slightly and his lips press gently against the glass. Blaine traces the outline of Kurt's lips with his finger on his side of the mirror. He presses the finger to his own mouth and imagines the sweet press of lips on lips.

Kurt has his eyes open as he drags his mouth up and down the glass, watching himself as his lips part and his tongue sweeps slow circles against the cool surface. Blaine doesn't know when he began to grow hard, but he is suddenly very aware of press of his straining erection against the towel he is still holding in front of him. Ignoring a twinge of guilt, Blaine snakes his other hand beneath the towel and pets his cock tentatively with a finger. Kurt continues to mouth at the mirror as he slips the buttons of his shirt through their button holes one by one, slipping the shirt off of his shoulders and giving Blaine a great view of his heaving, sculpted chest. Blaine backs toward the bench and drapes the towel over it before sitting down, never taking his eyes off Kurt.

Blaine grips his hard cock and begins to stroke in earnest, chanting in his head, please, please, please as Kurt alternately licks seductively at the mirror and draws back to survey his full body with a smoldering look. Yes, right there, that's it, come on, Blaine pleads silently as Kurt runs his hands up and down his chest, dipping lower each time until at last, yes, he works open the button of his jeans. He dips his fingers beneath his waistband and back up a few times, fixing the mirror with a sultry gaze. Blaine is panting now, pumping his fist furiously up and down his throbbing dick and carefully keeping his mind focused on nothing but more, more, more. Finally, Kurt pulls down the zipper, hooks his thumbs into his waistband and shimmies free of jeans and underwear in one fluid motion.

Kurt runs his hands up and down his body again, kicking his legs free of the clothing pooled on the floor. He grips his cock with a loose fist and it quickly lengthens beneath his hand. Blaine watches the hole in the tip expand and contract, already leaking a bead of pre-come as Kurt moves his hand languidly back and forth.

Kurt steps out of view for just an instant before returning with a chair from the kitchen in one hand and a small bottle in the other. He pops open the bottle of lube and spreads some generously across the surface of his cock, red and glistening and twitching slightly in the air. He pours out even more lube onto his hand and fixes a searing look at the mirror as he braces his clean hand on the back of the chair, leans slightly back and lifts one leg impossibly high before bending his knee and planting the bottom of his foot squarely on the mirror at shoulder level.

Blaine can feel himself start to salivate at the up-close view he now has of Kurt's hole, wrinkled pink on the outer edges giving way to a glimpse of darkness at the center as Kurt pushes his pelvis closer to the glass, causing his hole to stretch and wink. Kurt's balls swing gently back and forth above his hole as he moves. His balls are full, perfectly round, pink and smooth. He must wax to give himself a better view.

Blaine can barely breathe as he watches Kurt trace a glistening, dripping finger around the outside of his hole. Kurt shivers and sighs and undulates his body as the finger moves in slow, methodical circles once, twice, three times before the tip of a finger pushes as the center. Blaine watches in rapt attention as Kurt's finger suddenly dips in and starts to disappear, sucked in by Kurt's pulsing hole. Kurt's mouth drops open and he tilts his head back in ecstasy as his finger drags against his rim. He pulls the finger all the way out and presses two fingers together at the tip before plunging back in. He reaches and twists his wrist, then cries out. Blaine can see it more than he hears it, but when the faint "uhhhnngg" drifts through the mirror, Blaine shudders, his come shooting into the towel.

Without removing his fingers, Kurt allows the foot against the mirror to drop briefly to the floor and turns, putting his foot on the seat of the chair and leaning forward again. Now free, his other hand wraps around his cock and squeezes. Soon, Kurt is rocking his body back and forth, squirming between the fingers in his ass and the fist gripping his cock.

Blaine gives his sensitive cock a gentle squeeze and shudders in pleasure again as his eyes sweep across Kurt's undulating form. His hand is flying up and down his cock, fingers twisting and plunging in and out of his ass, balls swinging tantalizingly back and forth. As his eyes move rapidly from one delightful sight to the next, he catches a glimpse of Kurt's face and is transfixed. Kurt's eyelashes flutter as if he is struggling between twin desires to watch his body in the mirror or to close his eyes and focus on the pleasure of his hands. His bottom lip glistens with a hint of saliva and his open mouth quivers as his eyes widen. Blaine revels in every expression that passes over Kurt's face as his movements speed up and he cries out, his face alternately scrunching and freezing as he screams his pleasure, catching the streams of white in his hand.

Blaine continues to watch as Kurt pulls his fingers slowly out of his ass. He looks at his hands for a moment and strides off down the hallway. Blaine slumps back on the bench, spent. By the time he finishes getting dressed, Kurt is back in front of the mirror, hair clinging to his forehead in wet tendrils, clad in striped pajama bottoms and a plain grey t-shirt, spraying and wiping the mirror clean once more.

November 19, 2022

Blaine arrives at the tapas bar at 7pm to sign up for the open mic night. A big bearded man brusquely tells him he gets two songs and that since he's new, he'll be third up at around 8:15pm. Blaine texts the news to Kurt, who replies that he'll be there in about half an hour. Blaine finds a table about in the middle of the room and sits down, sliding his guitar case under the table and throwing his jacket across the back of the chair beside him.

Kurt arrives just before eight o'clock and Blaine waves him over with a smile. "Hey, Kurt! I scoped the place out and it looks like we can order our tapas and drinks at the bar and bring them over here."

"Okay, that sounds good," Kurt replies, unbuttoning his jacket and unwinding the scarf from around his neck. He looks around the noisy room, which is about half-full. "When does the music get started?"

"We still have at least twenty minutes. And I'm up third," explains Blaine. "Here, I grabbed a menu earlier." Blaine passes the menu to Kurt.

After discussing the pros and cons of several items, they decide to start with spinach and chickpeas with olive oil and garlic, potato wedges in a spicy sauce, and fresh prawns with garlic and chili peppers. Blaine decides to try one of the margaritas – Beckstones is famous for them, after all. Blaine stands up and says, "Why don't you stay here with our stuff while I order. What can I get you to drink?"

"Club soda with lime, please. Here, let me give you my share," Kurt says, digging into his pocket for his wallet.

"No, it's okay. I've got it covered," Blaine says.

Kurt glares at Blaine suspiciously. "I thought this wasn't a date," he says flatly.

"It's not," Blaine insists.

"Then let me pay my share." When Blaine shakes his head in protest, Kurt says, "It will make me really uncomfortable if you pay. That feels to close to a date and this is not a date."

"You're right. It's not a date," Blaine says as he pushes Kurt's outstretched hand and the two twenty dollar bills out of the way. "That's why you're going to buy the second round. Friend."

Kurt smiles and shrugs, putting the bills back in his wallet and the wallet back in his pocket. "Deal."

Blaine takes a step toward the bar and then turns back to Kurt. "Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger to drink?"

"Oh yes. Trust me. I get a bit too sloppy when I drink and I really don't want to risk that in a place like this. I've had one too many bad endings that started with a drink in a bar – another reason I'm not dating." Kurt says the words lightly, but Blaine can see the pain in his eyes. Did someone take advantage of him while he was drunk? Just how many creepy losers has Kurt had to deal with in his life? Do I count as one of them?

Blaine only takes a few sips of his margarita and a few bites of the spinach and chickpeas before the burly bearded man mumbles an introduction for the first singer.

A petite girl with long, straight honey-blond hair teeters up to the stage in red high heels. She is wearing red capri pants, a white tank top, and a red and white striped jacket. "Hi everyone," she says, simpering and leaning down to speak into the microphone. "I'm Sugar Motta, and I'm totally awesome. I'm going to sing one of my favorite numbers for you." Sugar bounces a bit on her toes and waves at the audience, flashing a sweet smile.

She pounds out a few notes on the keyboard in front of her and swings her hips back and forth to the beat. Blaine is already nodding along and smiling, anticipating a fun performance from this woman who seems like a natural performer. That is, until she opens her mouth again.

The minute you walked in the joint

I could tell you were a man of distinction

A real big spender

Her voice is so grating, screechy and off-key that more than a few people put their hands over their ears discretely. Blaine glanced at Kurt with an apologetic look. Kurt scrunches up his brow in consternation and mouths, "Oh my God!"

Sugar only manages a few more lines of the song before the audience drowns her out with their booing and hissing. "Get off the stage," one man yells. "You suck," calls out another.

The burly emcee walks back up on the stage, holding his hands out in a plea for order. "You all are terrible," Sugar yells into the microphone. "I'm awesome. I'm the best singer in this place."

The next singer is an Asian girl dressed in black lace. She is wearing deep maroon lipstick and heavy blue eyeliner. She brings an iPod with her and plugs it into the speaker behind her. She doesn't bother to introduce herself and when the music starts she practically screams out, "I kissed a girl and I liked it!" As she continues singing, she squats down with knees apart and chops violently at her thighs with her hands.

"Is this supposed to be singing, or performance art?" Kurt asks Blaine with a quirked eyebrow and a superior expression. Blaine nearly spits a gulp of margarita across the room as he chokes down a laugh. "I'm serious," Kurt continues, speaking loudly into Blaine's ear to be heard over the Asian girl's yelling. "This is almost as bad as the tryouts gone wrong on American Idol."

As the emcee calls him to the stage, Blaine resigns himself to the fact that while Beckstones is a great restaurant and a decent bar, it is not exactly a venue for a great singer to be discovered.

Blaine takes a moment to tune his guitar and introduces himself as he strums absent-mindedly. "Hi. My name is Blaine. This is my first time here at Beckstones. Everyone seems to be singing songs from at least 10 years ago, so I'm going to continue that trend with a favorite by the Beatles."

Hey Jude, don't make it bad

Take a sad song and make it better

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Blaine watches the audience as their conversations begin to drop off and more and more people turn in to face the stage to listen in rapt attention. By the time he gets to, "Nah nah nah", some people are actually swaying back and forth in time to the music or even singing along. Blaine smiles, opens his mouth wide and scrunches his eyes shut to belt out the last notes with confidence.

He nods and smiles at the brief wave of applause interspersed with a few hoots and whistles. He beams and says, "Thank you," when he notices Kurt clapping rapidly, hands held up almost in front of his face.

"All right," Blaine says. "So you like the oldies. How about some Billy Joel?" Blaine pauses, and when he hears a few claps and hoots he launches into Uptown Girl.

He gets even more catcalls and whistles at the end of this number. Blaine says a final, "Thank you" and hops off the stage. The emcee grabs his shoulder and says, "You did good, kid. Come back next time and I'll hook you up with a later timeslot."

Blaine makes his way back to the table, interrupted a few times by someone holding up a hand for a high five or grabbing his sleeve and pulling him in for a shouted, "Nice job, man," in his ear.

Two more performers, including a four person band in which each member seem to be playing a different song and another guitar player who pauses both the music and his singing whenever he needs to change chords, the emcee announces a thirty-minute break before the next group of performers. Kurt turns to Blaine and says, "You did great. You were the best one so far by a long shot."

"Thanks," Blaine says, hoping the dim light in the bar covers the blush he feels burning up his cheeks. "Although we both know that's a pretty low bar."

Kurt laughs. "I guess you're right. But you were still great. I love your song choices." He stands up, leaning down to ask Blaine, "What can I get you for a refill?"

"Oh, thanks. I'll definitely have another margarita. They really are good."

"Any more food?"

"Maybe one more plate. Order something we haven't tried yet – I don't care what it is," Blaine says.

Blaine is alone at the table for less than a minute when he hears a voice behind him, close to his ear. "I'm sorry I missed your set."

Startled, Blaine spins around and stares at a tall, attractive man with a thin face and brown upswept hair. He smirks and raises one eyebrow suggestively. "After hearing all the hype, I had to get a closer look at you myself. And I must say, you're even better in person." The man pulls a chair close to Blaine and sits down, leaning in close and looking Blaine up and down appreciatively.

Blaine smiles and feels his heart speed up at the attention. "Well, they say flattery gets you everywhere, but I'm not sure how you could have heard anything about me. This is only my first time performing here."

"Well, my band plays here almost every week. I usually skip the earlier sets – that when most of the loser and freaks – and new kids – perform. But some of my friends were here earlier." He leans even closer, until his breath is ghosting on Blaine's ear, causing him to shiver. His next words are low and guttural, spoken slowly and suggestively. "And they said you're sex on a stick and sing like a dream."

Blaine blushes and looks down demurely as the handsome stranger continues, "You know, your bashful schoolboy act is super hot. What do you say we get out of here so I can show you a good time?" The man has his arm around the back of Blaine's chair and he leans even closer, until their faces are mere inches apart.

Blaine glances down at the man's long, jeans-clad legs for a moment before trailing his gaze slowly back up to his eyes. A hot thrill is pounding in his groin and radiating through his body until every nerve up through his fingertips and toes are throbbing and on alert. Coyly, he says, "I don't even know your name."

The stranger cocks an eyebrow and says, "It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

Blaine's mouth drops open for a moment as he stares at the stranger incredulously. It is rare for Blaine to run into someone so blatant and aggressive in his desires, and something about it fuels that throbbing need within him. It's been a long time since I've had a hook-up. I haven't been out lately. Not since I've been spending so much time with Kurt. Kurt! This jolts Blaine out of his lusty haze. He leans back in his chair, gaining some distance from the other man. "Actually, I'm here with someone."

With no change in facial expression and without missing a beat, the man insists, "It doesn't have to take long. I live just around the corner and I can have you back here before my set starts."

"I can't leave. I told you, I'm with someone. He's at the bar getting refills and he'll be back any minute," Blaine says forcefully.

The other man grins and leans closer to Blaine, whispering into his ear, "Then I think there might be a bathroom stall with our names on it. He won't even notice you're gone."

"Wow," Blaine exclaims. "You're really out there."

"I just know what I want and I'm not afraid to go after it," the stranger replies with a grin.

"Well, I appreciate your offer," Blaine says politely. "But this guy I'm with – he's really great. And I don't want to mess things up with him in any way."

The man nods knowingly. "I get it. You're still trying to get him in the sack." He pulls a pen out of his pocket and scribbles digits on the napkin he pulls out from under Blaine's empty glass. Pushing the napkin toward Blaine with one finger, he says, "Give me a call if it doesn't work out with your great guy." The man leans in again to whisper seductively in Blaine's ear. "Actually, you should call me either way. If he's really so great, all three of us could get together."

Blaine's eyes widen and he freezes as he sees Kurt approaching the table, holding a tray with their drinks and food above his head as he weaves through the crowd. The man continues whispering in his ear as Blaine's panic rises. "You can take him in your mouth while I fuck you, in and out, nice and slow."

Kurt stops in front of the table and gasps, losing his grip on the tray for a moment. The glasses tilt and clatter together, liquid sloshing precariously, but Kurt clutches the tray tightly and manages to lower it to the table before he fixes his shocked gaze on the man sitting beside Blaine.

"Oh my God! You know each other?" Kurt demands in a strangled voice.

"Well if it isn't Kurt Hummel, the ice queen himself. Long time no see. Your friend and I were just getting acquainted," the man says the last sentence slowly, each word dripping with innuendo.

Blaine whips his head back and forth between Kurt and the man beside him and parrots Kurt's words incredulously. "Wait, you two know each other? How?"

Kurt gestures frantically, his hands moving in rapid circles. "This is Sebastian Smythe." Kurt's enunciates the next words in an exaggerated fashion. "My last neighbor. You know, the one who lived in the apartment before you moved in."

Blaine's mouth falls open in shock and he scoots his chair away from Sebastian, forcing his arm off the back of the chair. He snaps his mouth shut and bites down on the inside of his cheek in his effort to keep from saying it's creepy neighbor number two.

"Oh yes," says Sebastian, smirking. "Kurt spent an entire year living next door to me, desperately pretending that he didn't want to ride my dick."

"I would never go near that thing," Kurt spits out venomously. "God, you even smell like Craigslist. Your dick probably requires a toxic waste permit."

"Fun," Sebastian says flatly, flashing Kurt a smile that looks more like a call to war. He stands up and makes a show of tilting his head downward to look at Kurt, who is a few inches shorter. "You can pretend all you want, Kurt. But I know exactly what kind of a kinky bastard you are when you think no one's looking."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kurt growls.

Blaine jumps up from his chair and stands between them, facing Kurt. Oh God, I can't let him find out about the mirror. "Don't listen to this asshole. He's just trying to get under your skin. He's not worth it. Let's just go." Blaine shrugs into his jacket and reaches down to pick up his guitar case from under the table.

Sebastian bursts into laughter. "Oh, wait a second. This is rich. You live in the apartment I used to live in? I think I know exactly why you're in such a hurry to get Kurt away from me."

Blaine freezes, guitar in his hand, praying that the burning he feels in his cheeks isn't manifesting as a visible blush. Kurt fixes him with a questioning look. I'm not going to lose him. Not over this. Blaine turns to Sebastian and argues vehemently. "I don't know what you're talking about. But I want to get Kurt – and myself – away from you because you're a creep."

"Yeah, I don't buy it," says Sebastian dryly. "You're good at playing the nice guy, but I've got your number. You and I have an awful lot in common."

Blaine stares at Sebastian, pleading silently with his eyes. But before either of them can say anything more, Kurt marches up to Sebastian and speaks in a low and dangerous tone. "I don't like the way you treat my friend. He is nothing like you. He is kind and honest and polite and respectful. You, on the other hand, are an utter and complete creep, who wouldn't know respectful or polite if it slapped you in your smirky, meerkat face."

Kurt tugs on Blaine's arm. "Come on. Let's go."

Blaine scrambles to keep up with Kurt's rapid pace toward the door. He reaches into his pocket for the napkin with Sebastian's phone number. He lets Kurt walk out the door and then he turns and locks eyes with Sebastian, who is still standing at their table. He holds the napkin up high in the air and lets it drop to the floor before spinning on his heel and out the door.

Blaine sprints for a few steps, catching up with Kurt and falling into step beside him.

"Oh God Kurt, I'm so sorry about that."

"Well, now you've met creepy neighbor number two. He's a jerk, but at least he wasn't as bad as the guy before him. With Sebastian, it was pretty much the kind of stuff he said just now, but usually dialed up a notch. Most of the time, I just ignored his come-ons and his weird suggestive comments. But it does get tiring to get hit on two or three times a week for an entire year. That guy just wouldn't give up."

"Yeah, he kept trying to give me his number, but I wouldn't take it."

"Good. You really should stay away from him," Kurt says earnestly as they stepped through the turnstile in the subway station. "I wasn't kidding about the toxic waste permit. I'm surprised he didn't install a revolving door with all the hook-ups he had in that apartment. I hope you did a good job cleaning it before you got your furniture."

Blaine nods and murmurs, "Mm-hmm", but shivers a bit at the thought of Sebastian fucking an endless stream of random hookups in the bedroom where he sleeps. I definitely need to get that organic cleanser recipe from Kurt. Maybe I can go over the walls again. Oh God. Kurt. Did Sebastian let his hook-ups watch Kurt, too?

"Thank God you moved in," Kurt says enthusiastically. "I don't think I could have handled another creeper."

Blaine smiles in response and tries to enjoy the sensation of Kurt's thigh bumping against his own as they sit beside each other on the train. But he can't stop replaying Sebastian's words: "You and I have an awful lot in common," in his head. Somehow I have Kurt fooled into thinking I'm respectful, polite and honest. But I know better. And so does Sebastian.

Later that night, Blaine stands in his closet for a long time, staring at the pieces of drywall stacked neatly against the wall and wishes he could be the person Kurt described.

November 20, 2022

The evening after the Beckstone's gig, Blaine is checking his mailbox when he hears a loud thud. Startled, he jerks his head toward the front door. He sees Mrs. Gidly, an elderly woman who moved into an apartment on the first floor a few months ago, struggling to jiggle the door handle and turn the key, a very full bag of groceries smashed between her chest and the window. Blaine leaps toward the door and pulls it open gently, reaching out his hand to catch the grocery bag.

"Mrs. Gidly, hi!" Blaine pulls the grocery bag more fully into his arms as he pushes the door wide open with his back and lets her in. "Let me help you with this."

"Thank you so much. You're a dear man," she says, heading up the half flight of stairs to her landing. She hoists her purse strap more fully onto her shoulder and flips through her keys for a moment before fitting one into her apartment door and swinging it open.

"I can take that from here," she says, gesturing at Blaine to pass over the bag of groceries. He gives it to her and she promptly sets it down on the floor just inside her apartment. "Thank you, young man. What is your name again?"

"It's Blaine. Blaine Anderson. Have a good evening, Mrs. Gidly," Blaine says with a smile and a wave before turning to walk up the rest of the stairs to his apartment.

"Oh, wait," she calls to him. Blaine stops and turns back to face her. "You're Blaine Anderson? I'm glad I ran into you because I would have forgotten to tell you otherwise."

"Tell me what?" Blaine asks.

"Someone was looking for you earlier. Right before I left for the grocery store, in fact. He was standing out in front of the building and he asked for you by name."

A chill runs down Blaine's spine. Sebastian wouldn't show up here, would he? "Wh-what did he l-look like?" he stammers.

"Look like?" Mrs. Gidly sounds surprised at the question. "Well, let me think...he was tall and thin, about your age, brown hair. I don't think he had glasses," she says, a hand on her chin and a look of concentration on her face.

Blaine can feel the blood drain from his face and he grips the banister hard. His next words come out strangled as he struggles to keep his voice under control. "Did he say anything else? Like what he wanted?"

Blaine is already picturing a dozen scenarios, all of which involve Sebastian making a barrage of increasingly sick and sadistic requests in exchange for his silence about the mirror. Lost in horrific imaginings, Blaine misses the first half of his neighbor's response. " – tomorrow night."

"I'm sorry, can you say that again?" Blaine asks in a rush.

"I just said that I told him to come back later tomorrow night. You might want to make sure you're home by five thirty tomorrow. I don't think they make deliveries later than six o'clock."

"Excuse me?" Blaine feels like he is still missing part of the conversation. "Deliveries?"

"Yes. I think he's with UPS, or maybe FedEx. I can never remember which one has the brown uniform," Mrs. Gidly explains. "I told him I'd be happy to pass the package on to you, but I guess he needs you to sign for it."

"Oh," Blaine breathes out a relieved sigh, remembering the scale that he ordered a few weeks ago. "Yes, I am expecting a delivery. Thank you, Mrs. Gidly. I'll come home earlier tomorrow."

December 2, 2022

It takes almost two weeks for Blaine to stop imagining he sees Sebastian on every street corner. There are several heart-stopping moments when Blaine sees a familiar-looking head of hair or a tall, lanky figure walking toward him, before the image resolves itself into just another stranger on the busy Bronx streets.

In an effort to distance himself from Sebastian, Blaine avoids Beckstones and searches for a more upscale venue for his next gig. He also avoids watching Kurt in the mirror, keeping the closet door locked except when he needs to get clothes. He goes out as much as possible, taking walks around the neighborhood, staying late at work, stopping at a bar or a coffee shop for a quick drink or to warm up, logging extra hours at the gym.

Being at home is too distracting. He spends too much time staring at the locked closet door or jumping up from his desk chair, abandoning his computer to tug on the door handle for the eighteenth time in one night. Some nights he gives in, turning the key in the lock with shaking hands, not sure whether he should pray for Kurt to be in view or not. When he does see Kurt, he sighs in relief, sinking onto the bench to watch whatever Kurt is doing – watching TV, reading a magazine, sorting the mail – it doesn't matter because just seeing him lets Blaine breathe again.

Unfortunately, seeing Kurt also makes him think about Sebastian – about how he watched Kurt and got off to him and harassed him. He tells himself that he is different. That he watches Kurt to get to know him better, to help him, to be a better friend to him. It's not until those few moments of lying still in bed at night, no distractions at hand, willing sleep to take him, that he becomes acutely aware of that nagging sickness in the pit of his stomach.

December 10, 2022

"Blaine, you need to keep your arms out and hold still or I'll stick you," Kurt mumbles around a pin in his mouth as he pushes Blaine's arms a little further away from his body. "Okay, right there," he says, pinching the silky fabric together and sliding the pin through. "Now turn around."

Blaine spins slowly to face Kurt, arms still outstretched awkwardly. They are standing in his living room, which is bathed in the light of every movable lamp from his apartment, and several from Kurt's. Kurt insisted on having adequate light to complete this fitting of the suit jacket he is making for Blaine.

"Okay, we're almost done. I just need to take a few measurements, and then I can finish this up with the sewing machine later." Kurt is speaking briskly, using a tone he often reserves for business clients. He unfurls a flexible measuring tape from it's tightly wound ball, and holds it up, one hand hovering over Blaine's armpit and the other pressing the tape gently to his wrist. "Let me jot that down," Kurt says absently, turning to grab his notepad and pencil.

Blaine feels his heart beat speeding up and he struggles to keep his expression neutral as Kurt's hands bump against his arm and wrist. Kurt walks around Blaine, his eyes sweeping over Blaine's chest and back critically. "I need a shoulder width," he mumbles, holding the tape out across Blaine's shoulder blades and leaning in to read the measurement. Blaine shivers a little when a puff of Kurt's breath tickles the back of his neck.

"Last one," Kurt announces, walking back around to face Blaine again. He reaches his arms behind Blaine's back, passing the end of the tape from one hand to the other between Blaine's back and his jacket. Blaine closes his eyes for a moment when he feels the warmth of Kurt's hands through his thin shirt. Blaine relishes the moment that they are pressed practically chest to chest before Kurt steps back and pulls the tape tight, fingers dancing slightly across his stomach as he holds the tape in place and bends down to see the number. "Okay, all done. You can relax now," Kurt says as he jots down the last measurement in his notebook.

Blaine shrugs off the jacket and places it carefully on a hanger that he hooks against the back of a chair. "I don't know how to thank you, Kurt. It's not even finished and it's amazing already."

Kurt smiles at the praise. "I'm glad you like it. When I'm finished with these alterations, it's going to look fabulous on you. You have really good proportions, you know. You could be a model."

Blaine laughs loudly, head thrown back. "Yeah, right. If they ever need models for midget clothing. But seriously, don't make fun of me."

"I'm not. I mean, yes, runway models usually are a bit taller. But you have wonderful proportions – broad shoulders, narrow waist." Kurt looks Blaine up and down, humming appreciatively. "And you're certainly handsome enough. You may not be a good fit for the runway, but I could see you rock a photo shoot – or a commercial."

Blaine's heart stops when he hears this. "You think I'm handsome?" In a moment of ridiculous tension, his brain supplies the lyrics to an old song, You think I'm pretty, without any makeup on.

"Of course, Blaine. You're very good looking," Kurt says sincerely.

Blaine aches with longing. He takes a deep breath, mustering up his courage, and takes a step closer to his friend. "Kurt," he breathes, reaching a trembling hand toward Kurt's cheek.

Kurt shrinks from Blaine's touch and takes a step back, wincing when the back of his calves bump into the coffee table. "Blaine," he says sternly. "What I just said? It wasn't an invitation."

Blaine lets his hand fall back to his side with a sigh. "Kurt, we've been friends since the summer, right?"

"Yes."

"And I know that we've had some rocky times in there, but you trust me now, don't you?" Blaine asks.

"Yes," Kurt blinks uncertainly. "At least, I think I do."

"And you find me attractive," Blaine says, smiling. "At least objectively."

"Blaine, I know where this is leading. Please, just don't go there." He side steps out of the path of the coffee table and puts even more distance between them.

"Why not, Kurt? I'm not Dave or Sebastian or any of those other guys. I really like being friends with you, but I think we can be so much more. I really want to be more," Blaine pleads.

"I like being friends with you, too," Kurt says firmly. "Please don't ruin it."

"But dating me wouldn't ruin anything. It would just make everything better," Blaine insists.

Kurt answers carefully, as if speaking to a child. "Blaine, right now you're my friend and we can talk with each other. If we get together and someone gets hurt – and someone will get hurt, it's inevitable – then who do we have? No one. Now how is that better for either of us?"

"No one has to get hurt," Blaine says softly. Kurt makes no sign of hearing him.

With practiced brightness, Kurt says, "It's late. We should both get some sleep." Kurt grabs the jacket off the back of the chair and walks toward the door. Just before shutting the door behind him, Kurt says, "Coffee tomorrow?"

"Of course," Blaine says, forcing a smile and wishing for the thousandth time that he can someday find the right words, the right combination of things to do and say, to convince Kurt to take a chance.

Later that night, after tossing and turning for an hour, Blaine throws off the covers and wanders back to his living room. He opens his guitar case and lifts out the guitar, then grabs a few sheets of scratch paper and a pen from the sheet music compartment. Sitting on the couch, he places the guitar on his lap and strums for a few minutes, humming along a few different melodies until he comes up with something that fits his melancholy mood. His fingers tap out a beat on the side of the drum as words come to his mind. Alternately, he strums, taps, writes, hums and sings in fits and starts. Glancing down at the page, he starts from the beginning, putting the words and music together.

Don't be afraid

Don't be afraid, I will help you

Open up your heart

"No, that's not quite right..." Blaine picks up the page of hastily scribbled lyrics and scratches out the last line. Staring at the page, he taps the pen against the side of the guitar and thinks for a few minutes before starting the alternating strum, tap, scribble, hum, sing pattern once more.

March 29, 2023

[This section is a continuation from the last section of Chapter 1]

Blaine paces the floor, his heart racing and trickles of sweat carving uncomfortable paths under his arms, as he waits for Kurt to summon him for their morning walk to the coffee shop. Every few steps he pauses, bowing his head and covering his eyes with his hands in an effort to compose himself, but each time he does this he hears Kurt say, "I just wanted to hear your voice," as he slowly strokes his cock.

Blaine jumps and stifles a startled shout at the loud knock on the door. "Just a second," he calls as he dashes to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and smooth down his hair. He has no idea what to say.

They don't talk about it. Instead, Kurt smiles and chatters about his plans for a flea market trip, and generally acts as if not a single thing has changed. Does he think I don't know he was masturbating? Does he not know that I was too?

They continue to not talk about it, even after Kurt calls him again late that night, with a breathy, "I just wanted to hear your voice. Got any more stories for me?"

Blaine stops breathing and has to force himself to inhale.

"Blaine?" Kurt asks.

"I'm here," Blaine replies. Convinced he must have misunderstood what Kurt is asking for, he says, "Did I tell you about the gag gift that Eric gave one of the nurses for her birthday last week? I wish we had gotten her reaction on camera. It would have been a real hit on Youtube."

"You did tell me about that," Kurt deadpans. Blaine cringes a bit, desperate to think of something witty to say to keep Kurt on the phone. Before he can respond, however, Kurt continues with a flirty lilt, "I was hoping you had another story along the lines of what you told me last night."

Blaine sucks in a sharp breath. Is Kurt asking for phone sex? If he is, and if I can just make this phone sex good enough, safe enough, maybe he'll want to be more than just friends. "Okay. Um, yes. A story about someone seeing something naughty..." Blaine trails off as he walks into the closet and sees Kurt kneeling naked in front of the mirror, cock in his hand.

"Now that sounds promising," Kurt purrs, holding his fist loose as he rubs slowly up and down his cock.

Blaine shuts his eyes for a moment to focus. A friend from college had dragged him to a sex club on a dare. It was a co-ed club and Blaine spent most of the time feeling very self-conscious in his underwear – the rules wouldn't allow for anyone to wear much more than that – and trying not to attract anyone's attention. He did hear some pornographic moans and caught more than a few glances of couples making out, including two men. He doesn't really have a good story about the sex club, but it provides a good setting. Blaine searches his mind for a good porno scene he can adapt, but all he sees is Kurt – fucking himself on his fingers, stroking his cock, fucking into himself with one dildo while sucking on another, bobbing his mouth up and down his own cock, and sucking his own come off a finger with a seductive look.

"Are you still there?" Kurt asks, hand pausing on his cock as he fumbles the phone in his hand and scans the screen with searching eyes.

"Yes, sorry." Blaine settles onto the bench. He desperately wants Kurt to touch himself again. "So yes, I have a story like that. I can tell you about the time I went to a sex club."

"Oh my God! You were in an orgy?" Kurt squeaks, curling into himself and staring into the middle distance with both hands frustratingly far away from his body.

"No, no – of course not," Blaine hurriedly corrects. "No, those places aren't really like that. I mean, some people go there to have sex with multiple people. But a lot of people go just to have sex with their partners in a place where they can also see – or hear other people having sex. It's a turn on – seeing. And being seen."

"Yes, I suppose so," says Kurt as he turns to look at himself in the mirror. He stretches languidly and asks, "What did you see?" Kurt's hand is running lightly up and down the inside of one thigh. Then, with a slight hitch in his breath, Kurt asks, "Or were you the one being seen?"

Seeing Kurt's cock stir with interest at this thought, Blaine revises the story once more in his mind. "Um, a little of both. A boyfriend took me there when we were in college. I was a little nervous about being there, but he brought me to this one room that had a few beds and sofas in it. We were naked and he sat me down on the sofa and he knelt down between my legs and started stroking me, soft and slow."

"Mm-hmm," says Kurt, who is now running a loose fist up and down his own cock again. "Was anyone watching you?"

"Yes," breathes out Blaine as he fishes his own hard dick out of his boxers and matches Kurt's rhythm. "There was one guy watching from across the room."

"What was he doing?" Kurt asks slowly, squeezing at the tip of his glistening cock and rubbing a thumb over the head.

"He was touching himself, nice and slow, matching his timing to ours," says Blaine as he traces a curvy pattern across the head of his cock. "Derek – the guy I was with – stood back up for a moment to whisper in my ear..." Blaine trails off as he gets absorbed in the sensation of his warm hand squeezing his shaft.

"What did he say," whispers Kurt in a low voice, flashing a smoldering look at the mirror that nearly causes Blaine to gasp.

Blaine releases his grip on his throbbing cock for a moment and concentrates on the story he is inventing as he goes along.

"He breathed into my ear for a moment, and then he whispered 'keep watching – and tell me what you see.' He dragged his tongue down my neck and my body and then wrapped his warm mouth around my shaft and bobbed his head." Blaine is gripping the base of his dick, trying to keep his voice steady as he watches Kurt trace a hand from his neck down his body to wrap around his own cock, mirroring the story Blaine tells.

"What did you see?" Kurt asks shakily, as he drips lube onto his straining member and starts to stroke it faster.

"First I was watching the guy across the room who was stroking himself and watching Derek's mouth move back and forth on my cock. It felt so good," Blaine groans as Kurt starts sucking on two of his fingers in earnest, his other hand still pumping rhythmically up and down his cock.

Kurt pulls his fingers out of his mouth slowly, dragging his bottom lip into a pout as he stares intently at the mirror. He's facing the mirror at the perfect angle and from Blaine's point of view Kurt's sultry look is directed right at him. "Mmmm, tell me more," Kurt moans softly before plunging his fingers back into his mouth and sucking around them hungrily.

Blaine can hear the faint slurping sounds amplified through his earpiece and his hand speeds up on his cock as he stifles a moan. "Then two more guys came in the room. They were already naked and they had their hands all over each other, roaming up and down the others' bodies as they stumbled into the room and toward the bed next to us."

Blaine watches, entranced as Kurt pulls his fingers from his mouth with a pop and draws wet trails up and down his torso as his other hand continues to pump his dick. How far will he go with acting this out?

"One of the guys was tall, thin and lightly toned. He was in front. Behind him was an even taller, broader guy with bulging biceps and a chiseled torso. The taller guy pushed the other one forward forcefully and bent him over the bed, kicking his legs apart." Blaine speaks rapidly, panting and nearly breathless with excitement as Kurt bends himself over the arm of the sofa, legs held wide apart and ass facing the mirror.

Kurt is panting as well, his quick breathing punctuated by occasional babbles of, 'ungh', and, 'ahh'. When Blaine doesn't immediately continue, he stills the hand on his cock and asks, "What did you do?"

"Well, Derek was still sucking my dick with just the right pressure and it felt incredible. And I was getting really excited knowing that one guy is watching me and now I'm watching these two incredibly hot guys getting it on right in front of me. I gripped Derek's head tight and started fucking in and out of his mouth just as the guy in front of me started to work a finger in and out of the other guy's hole."

Blaine nearly cries out in triumph as Kurt reaches behind himself for the lube and applies some to his fingers before circling his hole with a finger and plunging in. Blaine starts to give a play-by-play, saying, "he pushed his finger in and then slowly drew it out, then in, then out as his partner shuddered and squirmed in pleasure." Blaine whimpers softly as he watches Kurt's finger sinking in and drawing out of his hole in time to Blaine's words. "He adds another finger and now the other guy is hard and trembling, crying out and begging him 'fuck me, please just fuck me."

Kurt bites his lip in an effort to muffle a whine as he plunges three fingers rapidly in and out of his hole while rocking his cock in and out of his tight fist in at a punishing pace.

Watching Kurt's ass clench and tremble around his fingers is too much for Blaine. His cock spasms, shooting in streaks across the floor and spattering drops of white onto his side of the mirror as he comes with a shout.

Kurt's body shudders a second later as he moans out a pornographic, "uhhhngghh," through Blaine's earpiece and slumps against the sofa, three fingers still buried in his twitching ass.

Blaine's gaze bounces from the phone beside him to his dripping and softening cock to Kurt's prostrate form on the other side of the mirror. They remain silent for a long time, just the faint breaths over the phone line connecting them.

As his breathing slows, Blaine focuses on the muscular lines of Kurt's back. He reaches his hand forward and strokes the air, imagining Kurt's smooth skin beneath his hand. He closes his eyes for a moment and he can almost feel Kurt beside him, warm to the touch as his arm closes around him and pulls him close, snuggling beside each other on the bed.

Blaine breaks into a huge grin as scenes run through his mind in rapid succession. Kurt smiling and bouncing excitedly in his chair as they discuss their favorite scenes from the Sound of Music and nibble on delicious appetizers at a candlelit restaurant. Walking down a busy street at night, Kurt's warm hand clasped in his, leaning close together as they whisper about what they want to do to each other as soon as they get home. Kissing sweetly as they stand in Kurt's living room, his fingers in Kurt's hair and Kurt's hands rubbing up and down his back. Wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind and helping secure his tie before leaning in to kiss his neck as they watch themselves in the mirror.

The mirror! Blaine's eyes fly open at the reminder of the barrier between them and of his betrayal of Kurt's trust. Desperate to bridge the gap between the reality of their separation and his pleasant daydreams, Blaine discards dozens of possible ways to start a conversation before finally forcing out with a nervous laugh, "Well, that was – "

"Yeah, but it's late now and we both need our sleep. Good night, Blaine." Kurt doesn't even give him time to say good night back before he has ended the call.

March 30, 2023

Blaine is wrenched from sleep by a jarringly loud beeping sound. It takes his sleep-addled brain a few seconds to register that it is the ringtone he reserved for calls from the hospital's therapy department main line. He lunges for the phone, knocking several other items off his bedside table and sending them clattering to the floor. At last his hand grips the phone and he flips it over, nearly blinding himself with its sharp glow in the dark room. "Blaine Anderson," he answers groggily.

"Hi, Blaine. It's Nancy. Sorry to wake you up, but Janice and Steve are both on vacation and Andy just called in sick. We're going to need you here as soon as possible."

"Oh, wow. I'll get myself together as soon as I can. I can be there in maybe thirty or forty-five minutes," Blaine says sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand and stifling a yawn. "Is Andy okay?"

"It's not too serious. He thinks he might have one of those stomach bugs. They usually go away in one or two days. But in the meantime, we're going to need you to work double shifts."

"Okay, Nancy. Thanks for letting me know. I'll see you soon," Blaine says, jumping out of bed and striding toward the bathroom with the phone still to his ear.

Once on the train, Blaine sends an apologetic text to Kurt, explaining that work was getting in the way of their typical morning coffee excursion. Work is so busy that it is well into the afternoon before Blaine has a moment to check his phone between bites of his sandwich. A thrill shivers through his body and his lips automatically twitch upwards when he sees a message from Kurt. But his smile falters a bit when he reads the text, "Sorry that you had to go in early today. A client is having a party I need to attend tonight. So I won't see you until the morning. That is, if you're back to normal work hours."

Blaine falls into bed almost as soon as he gets home, anticipating another early morning call from Nancy, but his sleep is uninterrupted. After waking to his alarm, he calls Nancy and she verifies that he is back to normal hours.

March 31, 2023

Kurt knocks at Blaine's door at their usual time and they walk dizzyingly close for those first few moments before they get to the stairwell and Kurt steps away. Kurt is chattering nonstop about the cocktail party he attended last night. A wealthy client threw the party to show off her newly designed apartment to her equally wealthy friends and she invited Kurt to thank him for his great work. Whenever anyone complemented her on the beauty of the living space, she introduced them to Kurt. "I'm going to get so much business from this," Kurt squeaks excitedly, bouncing slightly on his toes as they walk. "And all of it in the swankiest part of the Upper East Side. It's amazing!"

Blaine nods distractedly. He only says a quick, "mmm-hmm", or "oh, really", when Kurt pauses expectantly. But Kurt doesn't seem to notice Blaine's lack of rapt attention as he continues to speak at a rapid pace.

When they reach their table, coffees in hand, Blaine interrupts with, "Kurt, I think we need to talk."

"About what?" Kurt asks innocently.

"Oh, I don't know," Blaine says with an edge of annoyance in his voice. "Maybe we could talk about what is going on with our recent late night phone calls?"

Kurt has his coffee cup to his lips and he takes another long swallow before he responds. "I really don't want to talk about it." Kurt looks down at the table and twists his fingers together, his cheeks turning a light pink.

Blaine sighs. "Look, Kurt. I'm trying here, but I really just don't understand. We are great friends, we have this amazing chemistry over the phone, and you know I really want to date you. What are you so afraid of?"

"It's just – you know that my history with dating isn't very good," Kurt bites his lip, gaze still fixed to the table and fingers twisting together more and more violently.

"Hey, my dating history isn't so great, either. But I'm willing to give this a chance. You're so worth the risk to me, Kurt," Blaine pleads earnestly.

Kurt pushes his chair back a few inches from the table, shaking his head. "No, it's different. You don't know. I mean, I told you a little bit, but you don't know the details. You don't really know what's happened to me." Kurt looks up at Blaine with wet eyes. "It's always the same. I think I can trust someone, but as soon as we go beyond being friends..."

"Kurt, I'm not going to hurt you." Blaine places a hand over Kurt's, stilling them.

Kurt startles and stares at their hands on the table for a moment, before sliding his hands from under Blaine's and out of reach, on his own thighs.

Blaine gazes longingly into Kurt's eyes and pleads again. "Please Kurt. Please give me a chance. Please go out with me."

"No, Blaine, I can't."

"But – "

"I can't," Kurt repeats firmly. "Let's talk about something else, okay? Isn't it your regular gig night tomorrow?"

Blaine stares at Kurt, clamping his jaw shut against his urge to keep arguing. But we'd be perfect together. Why can't you just take a risk? Please take a chance on me. Taking a deep breath, Blaine manages to respond with, "Yes, and I'd really like you to come." When Kurt starts to back his chair further from the table and shake his head again, Blaine quickly adds, "Just as a friend."

Kurt stops and hesitantly asks, "As a friend?"

"Yes, as a friend," Blaine repeats. I'll be the greatest friend to you. If you can just see that, I know you'll trust me to be more.

Kurt's shoulders drop and he smiles, making eye contact with Blaine again. "Well, I think I actually can do that. In fact, I think it's just crazy that I haven't been to a show of yours since November."

Blaine laughs. "That open mic at Beckstones? That hardly counts as a show. That was more like two songs worth of struggling to be heard over all the screaming and bottles breaking."

"Yeah, it was pretty bad," Kurt grins, leaning back in his chair. "It would've been bad even if we hadn't run into that douchebag Sebastian."

"Yes, I'm sure glad we haven't seen him around again." Blaine's smile falters for a moment until he reminds himself that he is nothing like Kurt's previous neighbor. "The Blue Lagoon gig is totally different," he continues, smiling again. "I get a full forty-five minute set and everyone either listens or at least just talks quietly while they have some coffee or dinner."

"Haven't you played there three or four times already?" Kurt asks sheepishly. "I feel really bad that I haven't seen the show yet."

"Two times. And you couldn't have seen it. You had rehearsals those nights."

"But I don't have any rehearsals tomorrow night," Kurt says coyly. "So I'll definitely be there."

"I'm so glad you can come," Blaine says sincerely. He pulls out his phone and adds, "I'll text you the address. I'll be starting around nine."

April 1, 2023

"Hello everyone," Blaine gives a little wave and a smile to the audience of about twenty diners scattered throughout the dimly lit restaurant. "I'm Blaine, and I'll be singing and playing a little guitar for you tonight." Most of the people are still focused on their friends or significant others at their tables, conducting their chitchat quietly as a small nod to respect for the guy at the microphone.

"So I'm really excited to be here at the Blue Lagoon for the third time. And I guess it's official now, that you can, uh...," Blaine's heart jumps as he spots Kurt darting in and settling into a seat near the back. He has changed into another spectacularly tailored suit – perhaps another one of his own creations – this one in iridescent maroon. Realizing he has fallen silent, Blaine forces his eyes to the front of the room. "Right. Sorry. I was saying you can catch me here the first Thursday of every month."

Blaine begins picking a soft melody on the guitar as he finishes his introduction. "So I'll start with an old favorite of mine – here's Cough Syrup for all you Young the Giant fans out there."

As Blaine works his way through covers of songs from every era – Frank Sinatra, the Beatles, Billy Joel, and even Katy Perry. Only a few songs into his set, Blaine notices that the patrons have mostly fallen silent and are watching and listening to him with rapt attention. Blaine only dares a few furtive glances at Kurt, who is watching him attentively, leaning forward in his seat, his mouth slightly open in that adorable way.

For the most part, Blaine does that acting trick he learned when he had the lead in his high school musical. He looks at the tops of people's heads and shifts his gaze periodically to different heads throughout the room. He knows it looks to the audience as though he is looking right at them, but he avoids the distraction of looking into anyone's eyes. A few times he closes his own eyes to belt out the notes. When he glances a few times at Kurt, he is smiling his closed-lipped, Mona Lisa smile of mystery.

It takes until nearly the end of the set before he finds the courage to sing an original song. He's not sure when Kurt will see him perform again, so he wants to sing this now. "Here's one I know that none of you have ever heard before. It's a little something I've been working on for a long time. A good friend once suggested that I could write a song just for myself. I've been working on it for a long time, and just put the finishing touches on it last night. I was planning to keep it to myself. But I know that sharing something difficult can be healing. So I'm going to share this song with you tonight." Blaine can't help looking at Kurt as he says, "I hope you like it."

Heart pounding wildly, Blaine closes his eyes as he strums the opening chords and sings.

Well I was thinking, if you'd like to stay awhile

Throw all your bags in the closet, coat up on the wall

And lay your head on this pillow that's resting there next to mine

I'd like to see you with my morning coffee

And hear the laughter inside you fill up all the halls

Come in 'cause I've had this space saved for you from the start

Don't be afraid – I will help you move into my heart

My heart

Well I was thinking, if you'd stay awhile

We'd start a scrapbook of memories, walking down the aisle

Make up this family of you and me intertwined

And be near you, when dark clouds hide your skies

And run my hand through your hair, whisper lullabies

So come in 'cause I've had this space saved for you from the start

Don't be afraid – I will help you move into my heart

My heart

Blaine sings most of this song with his eyes closed or fixed firmly at the back wall, just above the heads of his audience. At the final, "Don't be afraid", he sweeps a gaze across the faces of the audience, ranging from smiles and intent looks to those who are whispering to friends or looking at their phones. But then his gaze locks with Kurt's and Kurt is staring at him transfixed, as if seeing something amazing for the very first time.

Blaine sucks in a sharp breath as the audience claps and hoots its approval. "Thank you so much. Again, I'm Blaine. And I'll be back next month. Hope to see you then!" Blaine waves again and the audience claps again politely.

Blaine is still making his way through the small crowd of ten or twelve people gathered around him in a tight circle offering congratulations, words of encouragement, and requests for him to start selling CDs, when he sees Kurt slip out the front door. It takes another forty-five minutes before Blaine is on the train on his way home, wondering whether he went too far singing that song. Why did he rush out the door before I could get through the crowd? Does he know the song is about him? Will that scare him off even more?

Blaine practically sprints from the subway station to his apartment building, pausing at the top of the stairs to catch his breath. He stands for several minutes outside Kurt's door with his hand raised to knock, heart beating wildly against the walls of his chest. He barely dares to breathe as he strains to hear any sounds or see any light escaping beneath the door. In spite of Blaine's feeling that he will burst apart if he can't speak to Kurt this moment, Kurt's apartment remains quiet and dark.

Blaine shuffles back to his own door and engages himself in an internal debate about whether a few shots of tequila or some Nyquil would be the best way to shut off his churning thoughts and hopefully fall into a coma-like sleep. Blaine is reaching for the bottle of tequila when his phone rings. He answers without looking, assuming it must be Cooper at this time of night.

"Blaine?" It's Kurt's hesitant voice and Blaine immediately stands up straight, fully alert and willing his stomach to stop its dizzying dance of flips and turns.

"Kurt, I'm so glad you called. I couldn't get out of the crowd before you left tonight. Where are you? Are you okay?" Blaine says all in one breath.

"I'm at home. I'm sorry I left so soon. I just..." Kurt's voice trails off.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asks, his stomach now clenching in fear.

"Nothing. I just... oh! Mmm. Wanted to hear your voice," Kurt purrs coyly, the words punctuated by soft sounds of pleasure.

Haltingly, Blaine asks, "What are you doing?" Blaine walks slowly toward his closet door, fishing the key from his pocket.

"You know what I'm doing," Kurt says in a low voice. "I'm taking care of myself. But it's better when I can hear you."

At first, Blaine wonders if this sudden openness about the true purpose of these late night phone calls is Kurt's idea of an elaborate April Fool's Day joke. But he promptly forgets all concerns when he pushes the door open and gasps at the sight through the mirror. Kurt's pale skin is bathed in the flickering glow of a candle on the coffee table behind him. He is naked, straddling one of the straight-backed wooden chairs that normally reside by his kitchen table. Kurt's thighs are straining and his back is arched, his head thrown back, his hands braced against the seat of the chair on either side, and his hard cock jutting out from his body as he slowly moves his body up and down.

Holy mother of God! Blaine's clamps a hand to his mouth before he can blurt this thought out loud. He forces himself to breathe in and out. He feels the blood rushing to his cock and a moan escapes him as he recognizes the large, flesh-colored dildo that is standing straight up from the seat of the chair, alternately disappearing and emerging from Kurt's ass as he works his body up and down.

"Do you like that?" Kurt asks seductively.

Blaine gasps and almost drops the phone as his heart tries to pound its way out of his chest. "What?" he practically shouts, terrified that Kurt has caught him watching at last.

"Well, I heard you moan after I said that hearing your voice makes it so much better. I thought maybe you liked that idea?" Kurt speaks in a slow, seductive tone as he pushes down, the dildo disappearing into his body inch by inch.

"Right. Yes. Yes, I do like it," Blaine recovers, schooling his voice to match Kurt's sultry tone.

"Mmmm, good," Kurt groans as he lifts himself up again. "I thought you would like it. You said we had good chemistry over the phone. Come on. Talk to me."

The visual of Kurt's lithe body tight and straining, moving agonizingly slowly as he fucks himself up and down on the dildo, is pushing all coherent thoughts from Blaine's head. Don't say something stupid. Don't give yourself away. Blaine closes his eyes, covering them with one hand for good measure, and focuses on Kurt's breathy moans.

"Um, okay. What are you wearing?" Blaine cringes as soon as he hears himself. I guess my brain still isn't quite working yet.

"No, we're not doing that," Kurt says firmly. How does he have so much control over his mind and his voice while he's doing THAT? "I don't want to have a conversation. I just want to hear your voice. Got any stories for me?"

"Um –" Blaine is drawing a blank. He wills himself to think, to conjure up images from his favorite pornos, but nothing surfaces other than the image burning into his eyelids of Kurt splayed out and fucking himself on a dildo with abandon.

"Please, Blaine," Kurt whimpers, and Blaine's erection strains against his jeans, pulsing and twitching with a burning need for touch. He puts the phone down for a split second, tearing his shirt over his head and shoving his jeans down to the floor violently before grabbing the phone to his ear again.

"Oh God, Kurt," Blaine moans, pressing his palm against the bulge in his boxers and shuddering with pleasure. "I wish I could touch you. I wish I could just run my hands up and down your body and drag my hot, wet mouth over every inch of your bare skin."

Blaine opens his eyes and sees Kurt biting his lip, straining to hold in his gasps as his cock jumps and pushes his body up and down faster, fucking the dildo in and out of his gaping hole.

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine growls. "Don't hold back. I want to hear you."

"Oh God," Kurt gasps, grinding down onto the dildo and throwing his head back even further. "Uhhh, ohhh, ahhhh!"

"That's right, Kurt. Louder. I want to hear you," Blaine urges as he fishes his cock out of the hole in his boxers and tugs at it hurriedly. "I want to hear you say my name."

"Oh yeah! Uhhh, ahhh, unghhh. Blaine. Oh, Blaine, that feels so good, ahhhh!" Kurt cries out louder and louder as he undulates his body, thighs straining and fist pumping up and down his hard cock. Kurt's shouts devolve into loud, delicious moans.

"Oh God, Kurt. You sound so good," Blaine groans shakily, fucking into his fist. "Please, Kurt. Please, can I come over?" The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and he cringes as Kurt freezes on the other side of the mirror.

Several horrible, silent moments pass as Kurt lifts himself off the dildo and stands, cock still hard between his shaky legs. His face is a stoic mask as he stands silently and still, staring across the living room toward his front door.

Oh God, why did I say that? I'm so stupid. He's never going to talk to me again. Kurt says something, but Blaine can barely hear anything over the pounding of blood in his ears. Blaine is about to ask Kurt to repeat himself when he sees Kurt's mouth open to speak again. And he hears the shy, soft voice through the phone ask, "That last song that you sang. The one you wrote. Was that about me?"

"Yes," Blaine drags the word out hesitantly, turning it into a question. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable – "

"No, I liked it," Kurt cuts in sharply, turning away from the mirror. The candlelight sends flickering shadows dancing across his muscled back and buttocks and Blaine's heart swells with longing. "I mean, it's a good song," Kurt continues.

"Um, thanks," Blaine says, blinking in disbelief that they are talking about this now. Something they could have discussed while fully clothed at the Blue Lagoon. But now they are both naked and turned on and separated only by a pane of glass. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Yeah, it made me think about things..." Kurt says, his voice trailing off at the end. After a beat of silence, he says, "Ask me again."

"What?"

"What you just asked a minute ago, Blaine. Ask me again."

"Can I come over?" Blaine whispers.