"Do you still love him?"

"No."

"Do you still have feelings for him?"

"I don't know."

"What did he want?"

"Money"

"What for?"

"To pay someone back"

"What did he-"

"Enough. Kurt okay, please. I'm-I'm tired."

Even though Kurt just wanted the full picture, to be able to help Blaine in anyway he could, the stream of questions still felt like an interrogation. He appreciated it, he really did, but he couldn't bear to turn around and see the pity haunting Kurt's eyes. He couldn't fool himself into thinking that the anger and bitterness he heard in Kurt's voice was anything more than friendly concern. He just needed to be alone and sleep.

Kurt tried to cajole him into hanging out with him with Chinese food, hugs and Project Runway but Blaine declined, pointedly ignoring his disappointment and biting his lip. He hurried to his room, shutting the door firmly behind him. The room was strewn with sketches and pieces of art littered the walls, some framed neatly, other's hastily tacked to the too thin walls for future reference. An old desk resided in the corner by a window, rickety and wobbling and covered in paint. His fingers brushed across the notches in the wood work as he sat down with a hitching breath, eyes welling up with tears and the lump in his throat burning with the effort to hold them back. He reached for a discarded sketchbook and ripped it open, grabbing the first graphite stick his fingertips came into contact with and sketching like if he didn't, his mind, heart and soul would fall apart.

His shaking hands flit angrily across the page, lines jagged and thick and messy as his eyes stung. He drew Jonah, never slowing his hand or loosening his grip on the graphite. He was breathing harsh as he detailed his eyes and he was crying silently by the time he outlined his lips. The final product was menacing and sinister, it was a paper personification of all the hatred and all the fear and all the bitterness he had ever felt with or toward the man. He stared at it for a long time before he pinned it to the wall, a reminder that no matter how much someone says they love you, it's still a lie, and repetition can fool even the most sensible of people into thinking truer words have never been spoken.

He took to the page again and again, faintly registering the click and clack of Kurt's typewriter coming from the lounge. He wondered briefly what he was writing about, fairytales and romances or tragedies and poems about lost boys without love or a muse.  The evening dragged on and Blaine sketched until the final remnants of the sun's rays had slunk below the horizon. Eventually he noticed with a start that his hand and heart had slowed, his tears ceasing to fall. It was no longer Jonah's eyes gazing back at him from the smudged and crinkled page in front of him. They were Kurt's.

~*~

Blaine woke slowly and reluctantly, unwilling to leave slumber's safe grasp so soon. He lay with his head pillowed on his arms; eyes still tightly shut against the bright morning sunlight he knew would be streaming through the small window. He was calmer, head clear and heart lighter. He supposed it was as a result of his drawing the night before; he snorted, smiling wryly as his cheek pressed into the unforgiving wood.

"Either you're feeling better or you've finally gone mad." A voice Blaine recognised as Kurt's came from his left. One eye popped open and saw him leaning a hip against the desk whilst thumbing through one of Blaine's sketchbooks, dressed impeccably in gun metal grey slacks, a navy button down and silver waistcoat. Blaine didn't move for a while, just stared up at him studying his reactions as he flicked through the little book.

He was silent as he closed it, eyes wide and lips parted as he smiled down at Blaine still sprawled across the desk. "You- You're amazing. These," he said tapping the cover "are amazing you're insanely talented Blaine."

"Thank you." Blaine mumbled, picking his head off the wood and rubbing his check "Are you- how long have you been here?"

"A while," Kurt said slyly "you talk in your sleep."

"I- really? I haven't done that since I was eight." Blaine blushed, silently panicking about what he had let slip whilst he was unconscious. "Don't look so terrified" Kurt smirked "I thought it was cute."

"What did I even say?" Blaine blinked slowly as Kurt stroked the heated skin of his cheek. "Oh nothing much," he replied airily "just something about shading, some mumbling about money and you were strangely crystal clear about how gorgeous you seem to think I am." Kurt laughed, bright and loud at the look of pure mortification on Blaine's face, his sparkling eyes free of malice or cruel intention. "So I was wondering, would you like to go to dinner with me?"

~*~

"Stop fussing, you look unbelievable Blaine." Tina admonished half-heartedly, her smile bright as she saw the happy light in her friend's eyes.

"I'm not fussing," Blaine muttered fiddling with his emerald green bowtie for the hundredth time "I'm just-"

"Nervous! Aww you're nervous because you're going on a date with your crush!" She squealed, kicking her feet in her excitement.

"Tina, God anyone would think you were going to dinner with him. And it's not a date it's not. He's just trying to cheer me up after everything with Jonah."

"He said that did he?" She asked softly, a gentle, knowing look in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist, hooking her chin over his shoulder and meeting Blaine's gaze in the full length mirror.

"Well - no but-"

"Then who's to say it's not a date?"

~*~

"You look" Kurt breathed "unbelievable." Blaine laughed nervously, looking down briefly at his silver pants and black button down. "Thanks." He replied breathlessly "you're not too bad yourself." Kurt smiled toothily and took his arm.

Kurt's wealth had been considerably underestimated. Admittedly Blaine had never read anything he'd written, which had been a mistake. Not only was Kurt talented, he was a popular author, not quite famous, but popular. With popularity came a certain amount of wealth, he wasn't rich by any means but by the look of the restaurant they had reservations at he was reasonably well off. Blaine, on the other hand was anything but. He'd saved up for weeks, just to make sure he could even go and once they'd been seated there was little he could do but pray that the menu offered something he'd be able to afford.

Kurt watched warily as Blaine took a full twenty minutes deciding what to order, squinting down at the menu and worrying his bottom lip. It was simultaneously adorable and heartbreaking to watch him so studiously agonise over a simple meal out. "Blaine" he called softly, tapping the menu Blaine had been holding close to his face "did you forget to put contacts in?" A flush bloomed high on Blaine's cheeks as he finally put down his menu. "I err lost them and I didn't want to wear my glasses they're so chunky and-"

"Sexy? Blaine, really? You hate them so much you thought you'd get through tonight with partially impaired vision?"

"That and maybe a little dishwashing" Blaine's mumble did not go unheard. "Oh sweetheart did you honestly think you'd be paying tonight?" Blaine nodded sheepishly "No way silly, I asked you out, tonight's on me."

"It's really no trouble" he protested "you've been so generous already it's the least I can do."

"And the most you can do" Kurt continued gleefully, pausing to relay their orders to the waiter "is let me do this and love me for it in the long run." After a lot of consideration Blaine agreed "I think I can do that."

The food Kurt had ordered was delicious but they barely paid any heed to the meals in front of them. Blaine was fascinated by the light blush that trailed from Kurt's cheeks to the tips of his ears and Kurt was mesmerised by Blaine's wide eyes, alight with joy and laughter. It was with shy smiles, coy glances and Kurt's foot brushing his ankle that Blaine had it confirmed. Yep it was definitely a date.

Blaine laughed brightly, loudly, embarrassingly so in fact and he tried to stifle it behind his hand. Kurt tilted his head and stared quizzically, eyes curious and fond "what are you laughing at?"

"N-nothing," Blaine stammered "I'm just happy."

"Well good. I'm glad Blaine because after what happened with Jonah I-"

"Kurt-" Blaine interrupted warningly.

"No Blaine I really need to say this."

Blaine sat back, pushing his plate away from him and interlacing his fingers on the table top. Kurt could see that a little of the light that had been so present in his eyes early had been extinguished but not entirely. Blaine was allowing him to say his piece, to listen even if it wasn't something he particularly wanted to hear. "I know that you gave Jonah all the money you had for rent and I don't know what kinda shit he's in but one thing I do know is that you did it because you care. Hell even though he's been nothing but an ass you still care, so much. I asked you out tonight because I've seen that. You're kind and passionate and smart. I've seen you struggle this past week going from class, to work and back again, barely sleeping or eating in between. I really like you Blaine, and I wanted to let you know that you don't have to do this on your own and if you're ever in any trouble I'm more than willing to-"

"That really isn't necessary." Blaine said, smile falling from his lips.

"Blaine- please"

"No I- you're very sweet Kurt and I appreciate your offer and support but I don't need your charity or your pity."

"It's not-" Kurt protested imploringly placing a hand over Blaine's that was picking at the table cloth. "But it is though Kurt. I- um I really like you too Kurt but I came to New York to make a life for myself, to be free and to make art and be happy. I won't feel like I'm doing any of that if I'm relying on you constantly." Kurt looked sheepish, his blue eyes dark with worry and concern.

"I won't be the protagonist of one of your stories Kurt. I'm not the poor, lonely, down-on-his-luck boy that features in every cliché romance novel, the Cinderfella to be whisked off his feet by the talented, beautiful and experienced Prince Charming. I know you mean well but I have to do this myself." Blaine took a deep breath and looked away, waiting anxiously for Kurt to respond.

Kurt's hand twitched on top of Blaine's, slotting their fingers together with a sigh before tilting his head to meet Blaine's gaze. It made sense, what Blaine had said, it really did and Kurt felt infinitely guilty. He had tried to appear sincere, he was just trying to help after all but in hindsight his insistence had been overbearing. Blaine had been distant and cautious lately, working himself into the ground just to get by and doing nothing of a night time but working on school projects, writing papers, painting with pure magic onto canvases and materials he could barely afford. He understood completely though why he felt so strongly about having so little help.

Living with Kurt made him self-conscious, he wasn't a child, he didn't need to be dependent on anyone let alone Kurt. Half of Blaine realised that his refusal may have just been his pride, his adamancy to show Kurt that he can cope and that he has everything under control. Of course the other half believed he was completely justified, thinking that Kurt must think he's incapable of taking care of things himself.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said vehemently "you're right, you aren't a child, you're nineteen and doing perfectly fine, thriving almost. Just- if something ever gets to be too much I'm here Blaine, I get that you want to do this by yourself but at the very least I want to be a friend to you." Kurt snapped his mouth shut, realising belatedly the implications of what he had let slip. Blaine's smile, however, was always worth it.

"At the very least huh?" He replied cheekily, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched up. "At the very least"

~*~

After desert and a few too many glasses of wine they unlocked the door to their apartment, giggling their way into the living room with arms around waists and faces too close. Kurt huffed out a breath, eyes still sparkling with mirth and face flushed from a little too much alcohol. "You know," he began turning Blaine to face him and fiddling with his bowtie "you're beautiful B." Blaine's breathing hitched, a reply caught in his throat as Kurt's eyes drifted down to his lips. "Uh B h-huh?" He stuttered as Kurt undid the knot at his throat, tugging on the loose ends causing him to stumble closer. Kurt didn't reply just wrapped his arms around his neck.

City lights streamed through the windows and the sounds of car horns and merry New Yorkers blared through the thin walls. Time seemed to slow as they began to sway, tipsy movement that crudely imitated dancing to nothing but the music of the city below, just beyond the cracked brick and fogged up window panes. "Did Jonah ever tell you that?" Kurt whispered, eyes slightly glassy but boring into Blaine's own "did he tell you that you're beautiful Blaine because you so are" Pressure began to build behind Blaine's eyes, the threat of tears evident in his dark tea stained eyes. He found himself compelled to look away, to step out of Kurt's hold. He couldn't though. He was warm and all encompassing and he thought he was beautiful. Blaine was beautiful.

Jonah had told him the same but it felt different. The first time he'd heard it was spread out on a tiny dorm bed, shivering in anticipation and nervousness as he laughed breathlessly, blush colouring his cheeks as he buried his face in his arm. He remembered it fondly but he no longer flinched at the memory of Jonah's face, his voice or his body. He remembered the feeling, the warmth that had spread from his heart and rushed through his veins. There was always doubt then. Beautiful? Blaine? No he couldn't possibly be. With Kurt, even through the haze created by too much rose, he could see Kurt believed it, could see himself believing it, eventually.

The sights and sounds of the outside world began to fade into white noise, the score and soundtrack to the epic finale found only in storybooks. Kurt tilted Blaine's head up with his thumb and fore finger, eyes sweeping his face with something akin to a look of awe. He leaned down as Blaine's neck craned up, lips meeting softly somewhere in the middle, their eyes closing involuntarily. Softly, slowly they kissed chaste and sweet like children playing playground games, like kiss chase though it was always unclear just who had to do the chasing.

Kurt pulled back gently, thumbs brushing Blaine's hot cheek bones as his eyes fluttered open, focusing on nothing but Kurt's eyes and small contented smile. "Beautiful" he whispered.