Blaine sat serenely at the piano, playing softly over the excited chatter of Kurt and Arabella drawing idly on the living room floor. Things hadn't felt so blissful for years, like he simply provided illustration to their fairytales or the soundtrack to whatever epic adventure Arabella was enthusiastically acting out as Kurt looked on in amusement. It was family, it was comfort and familiarity and it was strange. He shouldn't be this calm, this happy to have a practical stranger playing childish games with his niece who was more of a daughter to him. They spent hours like that. Being silly and laughing giddily as Blaine made up little songs as the finale to every story Arabella managed to convince Kurt to co-star in.

Finger paint was banned when Belle got a little overzealous when decorating her unicorn picture and managed to land a tiny bright pink hand print on Kurt's sinfully tight grey designer jeans. Kurt looked momentarily horrified as he fully surveyed the damage but smiled widely as Blaine and Belle stumbled over apologies. Blaine blabbering through mortification and Arabella's eyes wet with tears as she mumbled out an "I'm vewy sorry I ruined your pretty clothes Mister Kurt" from where her face was buried in her uncle's shirt.

Eventually things settled down. Bed by seven and Kurt hovered outside the door to Blaine's bedroom when he settled her in, her small frame swamped by bedding. He watched and listened, transfixed as Blaine sat on the edge of the bed and told her a story he only half understood because of the intermittent sentences in Italian and others in pure giggling. When Arabella's eyes drifted close and Blaine's soft adoring smile looked fit to bursting Blaine brushed away stray curls with the back of his hand and kissed her forehead with a whispered "Ti amo, Arabella".

Later, Kurt and Blaine sat together in eerily comfortable silence, not a whispered word spoken and not a sound to be heard apart from Blaine's gentle melancholy melody caressingly them both into a stifling sense of calm. Having this stunning man smile shyly at him as he sat delicately next to him on the piano bench seemed so dreamlike and unreal. As time wore on though, Blaine grew restless again, feeling the beginnings of that scratching need creep back under his skin. He continued playing, for Kurt's sake, a soft sigh escaping him as he came down from his superficial high. He wasn't sure, but it was possible it felt worse than the real thing.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Kurt whispered from beside him "Music, art, Italian, seduction."

"Cook, I'm a fucking terrible cook," Blaine said quietly, fingers still caressing the keys with expert ease as he held Kurt's gaze "and juggle, I can't juggle." Kurt giggled quietly leaning into Blaine's shoulder, the sound sweeter than any music Blaine had ever heard or made. They lapsed back into easy silence. It seemed so bizarre to Kurt that they had spent the day together with Arabella, and then just them, so intimately.

"This place is magical, Blaine." Kurt said in awe, taking in the decorated walls and floor for the thousandth time since he stepped through the door. Blaine simply shrugged and Kurt stared at him bemused.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Blaine muttered distractedly looking back at Kurt with guarded eyes.

"Shrug everything off, like you don't even care." Blaine stopped playing abruptly.

"I'm sorry?"

"This place is a paradise"

"Funny," Blaine laughs bitterly as he paces away from the piano "feels like a prison the majority of the time".

"Blaine I-"

"It's getting late, Kurt."

"Yeah- Yeah it is, maybe I should go..."

Kurt gathered his things and walked to the door casting a worried look at Blaine. He was shivering a little, head resting in his hands as he leant his elbows against the kitchen island. "You're welcome to stop by any time tomorrow if you wanna start this thing?" sounded Blaine's muffled voice as Kurt's hand landed on the doorknob.

"Sounds perfect" he whispered smiling tentatively, "goodnight Blaine."

The door clicked softly as it closed behind him.

"Goodnight Kurt"

.oO0Oo.

With the apartment empty and silent once more Blaine wandered aimlessly throughout it, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. The feeling of being restricted within his own body overwhelming him like it had been fighting to all evening.

He dragged himself to the bathroom for a shower. Under the spray he prayed that the scorching water would wash away the itch. The hot water cascaded down over every inch of him, loosening knotted muscle as the steam cleansed all trains of thought. All except the one that lead to Kurt. His voice as he hummed along to Blaine's subtle melodies, his smile as he beamed and applauded Arabella, his face as he sketched and his body as it swayed to an imagined beat.

Blaine stumbled from the bathroom in a haze of sudden aching exhaustion, grabbing some sweats and a sheet from the hallway cupboard and heading towards the living room. He curled up by the floor to ceiling windows, staring out at the teeming streets of a night time Manhattan. His eyelids were heavy and every blink came accompanied by singular images: Kurt, Arabella, Cooper, his father, a trio of faceless men, a flawless expanse of skin, crystalline powder, a pink hand print, parted lips, blue eyes, a lone wolf.

Worlds swimming and colliding between imagined and real, Blaine slipped into a fitful sleep as he did every night; seeing and feeling everything in a realm between fancy and clarity. He slept with a weight in his chest and a name ghosting his lips.