At the edge of the high plateau, Blaine stands staring down at the fall of the water. The ceaseless roaring rush of it down into the pool below transfixes his attention. It soothes. Lunch rests heavily in his stomach today, the richness of the menu—velvety soups, buttery sauces, and foods with crisp fried crusts—its more than hes accustomed to. He sips a glass of a greenish yellow fruit juice, and its astringency helps ease his discomfort. In his peripheral vision comes movement and presence, withdrawing Blaine from his contemplation. He turns to see Tina, pretty in an eye-catching violet dress thats gathered at her throat and bares her shoulders. She carries a small plate of spice dusted chocolates, and she smiles as she offers him one. He declines.

With a shrug, Tina pops one into her mouth. She savors the mouthful with relish, which Blaine observes with curious attention. As much as hes been enjoying the variety and quality of the food, hes unsure his constitution is such that a regular diet of such luxury would suit him. His stomach grumbles a quiet agreement, and Blaine wonders if theres a discreet way to loosen his belt.

"Would you like to go down below?" Tina asks him once shes swallowed. "We could walk together."

"Oh," Blaine says, and hesitates. "Do you literally mean a walk?" he asks.

"Just a walk, I promise," she says, amused.

"Id like that, but first I wanted to speak to Kurt about something. Would you please excuse me for a moment?" Blaine says.

"Ah, my stalwart competition," Tina says with sufficient humor and a self-deprecating roll of her eyes, that Blaine laughs. "Its fine, Blaine, Ill wait here," she assures him before waving him off and selecting another chocolate for herself.

Blaine turns and heads back to where the kitchen is. He expects to find Kurt doing whatever he does at the end of a meal service. As Blaine comes to turn down a short corridor leading to the kitchen doors, he hears Kurts voice ahead of him. But the tone of it makes him halt and step back. Its not Kurts professional voice, but his intimate one, a soft playful murmur. Blaine cannot easily discern the words from this distance. It roots him to the spot, and his breath catches in his chest.

Then another mans voice replies, speaking more quickly, cajolingly and—if Blaine understands correctly—flirtatiously. The white shock of that numbs Blaines mind for an instant. With a frown he wills himself to turn around and leave. Hes not one to eavesdrop, but he doesnt recognize the voice, and a dread filled curiosity overrides his sensibilities, urging him to look around the corner.

A quick peek shows Kurt standing in the middle of the corridor, his back to Blaine while he speaks to an intent-eyed blond man in a white chefs jacket. Theyre standing close, their heads bent near. The blond mans hands are upon Kurts neck and upper arm, and Kurts hands are at the mans waist and beneath one of his elbows. Blaine hears Kurts laughter at something the other man says, and then Kurt bends his head and releases the other man, who then shrugs and leans closer with a tilt of his jaw. And Blaine doesnt wish to witness anymore of this exchange.

A chill sinks in Blaines belly, solid as a stone. Quickly, he backtracks to the plateau. Whatever he saw, its none of his business. Of course Kurt will have other friends, some of them intimate. Like Elliott. Isnt that how it is here? The Elyssians are different, free with their bodies and affection. Blaines got no right to the wrinkle of unease in his belly, or the cold creep of—what? He shouldnt feel so affronted; its not rational.

And yet, he does, for the unexpected wave of disjunction between what he thought he understood about Kurt and what he apparently still doesnt, even though he shouldnt be surprised. He knew enough to anticipate this, surely. But knowledge isnt always understanding, he concedes to himself with chagrin.

He spies Tina where he left her, and he waves as he approaches her, forces himself to smile his best smile. Turns his attention to her.

"You okay?" she asks him with a sly smile and a raised eyebrow. "You look flustered."

"Im fine," Blaine says. "Shall we?" he asks, and offers her his bent arm.

.

They walk in silence for a while, beneath the arching trees. The cool breath of the breeze, gentled by the foliage is welcome. Blaine tips his head back and looks up through the lattice of branches to the sky Kurt made for him, and he reminds himself that Kurt did make it for him. That must mean something. A yellow bird darts overhead, and it shines so brightly against the indigo, Blaine blinks reflexively and turns his attention back to the path.

Ahead of them, upon a white blossom laden branch perches an iridescent blue bird, singing cheerfully. "Are they real? The birds?" he asks Tina.

"They are," she says. "Theyre bred especially for this environment."

Songbirds on a warship—its bizarre. He expected theyd be some technological marvel. "Are they happy living here?"

She considers the question with a thoughtful crinkle of her nose. "They have everything they need," she replies. "And they dont know any differently, so Id say yes."

Blaine nods and they continue to walk, following a branch off the path that leads through beds of colorful flowering shrubs, and the swaying heads of what hes sure are daffodils. Its springtime in a bottle.

There are others here, and this time he doesnt look away when he sees people together, touching, kissing, and embracing. Its all fairly chaste he realizes, shared moments of affection and connection—nothing like what he saw at the dance, and nothing like what he imagines may happen here at night. Which leads him back to what his mind cannot seem to avoid.

"May I ask you something about Kurt?" he ventures.

"Looking for the dirt, huh?" Tina says with a grin. "I could definitely tell you some stories."

With a chuckle Blaine replies, "No, nothing like that. I just, um. Earlier? I saw him with this other man? Blond in a chefs uniform? I guess I was wondering… who that might be? They looked very familiar with one another."

Tina purses her lips and frowns in thought. "Oh," she says after a long moment. "Adorable and energetic?"

Blaine shrugs. "I only caught a glimpse of him."

"It was probably… hmm. Chef Kiyas saucier. Chandler I think his name is? Kurt was bedding him last week, so yeah, thats probably who it was."

"Oh," Blaine says as his pulse leaps and he goes cold all over again at the confirmation of his fear. (But is it fear? He cant tell.) "Bedding as in—?" He wants to be sure hes not misunderstanding.

He receives a strange look from Tina. "Taking him to bed. You know, sex?"

"Right, of course," Blaine says quickly. "I wasnt familiar with the colloquial use of the word. " He forces a smile that feels horribly fake, and he gives in to his insistent dreadful need to know, for knowing seems preferable to ignorance: "Is he still?"

"Oh, grief, Blaine. I dont know? I dont even try to keep up with who Kurts with anymore, because hes, well—thereve been a lot of very lovely boys in his bed. But I doubt it? He usually keeps his affairs brief."

"Does he?" Blaine asks, and he assiduously refuses to let any particular thought form in the wake of that revelation. He wont assume. He shouldnt.

Tina nods. "Is that—?" She looks at him, confused. "You came here with Kurt the other night, didnt you?"

"Um, no?" Blaine says. "There was a misunderstanding, and we didnt in the finish."

"Oh, thats too bad," Tina says, as they stroll past a pond with crimson and black spotted fish swimming lazily.

"Why do you say that?" Blaine asks.

Tina lets go of Blaines arm and crouches beside the fish pond. She turns her head and looks back up at Blaine. "You seem like the kind of guy hed really like. Sweet and earnest, and," she adds with a hopeful smile and direct gaze, "so very cute."

"Are you flirting with me now?" Blaine asks.

"The depends, do you want me to be?"

"Oh, I…" Blaine blushes and looks away. Tina is lovely, and she has a manner about him hes enjoying. Shes frank and refreshing in a way that forces him out of any complacency. But hes not certain he can think of her that way, the way he thinks of Kurt.

"Sorry," she says as she moves to stand up again. "Its okay if you dont."

"Its fine," Blaine reassures her, offering his hand. "Im not used to this." Blaine tilts his head and considers what to tell her. He doesnt want to tell her about Kurt, because hes unsure what he could tell her. Or what would be appropriate. Hes too unsettled by the uncertainty of what their relationship even is. A very brief affair or a new friendship? He doesnt like the way the worry nettles at his heart. "Ive been celibate my whole life," he says at last.

Tinas eyes widen and her mouth forms a small o. She lets Blaine pull her up. "Oh, I didnt know, but now that you say it, that explains a lot."

"How so?" he asks.

"Youre kind of uptight, you know?" she says, and then adds quickly, "Not that theres anything wrong with that! I mean, its great if thats what you want to do. I just couldnt do it myself. No sex seems like such a drag." She rolls her eyes.

Blaine laughs.

"You should talk to Mercedes though. Shes the same way. Shes been saving herself for marriage. Poor Sam, though. That guys really devoted."

The personal gossip is discomforting enough Blaine makes no comment, but he makes note of the information.

"So what do you do for fun then, Blaine," Tina says. "It cant truly be all work and no play for you? Youve got to unwind sometime?"

"Well," Blaine says, thinks. "I do enjoy my work. I spend free time extending my studies. I also exercise and meditate to relieve tension."

Tina makes a derisive sound. "Those are far too constructive. You must have crazier things you do to blow off steam, something thats just for fun?"

"I like music, um, to perform?" Blaine says. "But I dont have many opportunities to practice. It was an interest I explored more when I was young."

"Music, huh? Me too." She brightens. "Do you play an instrument? Or sing?"

"Yes to both," Blaine says. "I played the piano growing up and would sing to accompany myself. My family used to enjoy my performances."

"Past tense?" she asks. "Does that mean you gave it up?"

"I became an adult, and I no longer had the time," Blaine says simply, to dodge having to explain the reasons in more depth, for he senses Tina would argue with him if he did tell her that such pursuits are, in Apathea, considered childish. And its then that his rig dings with an alert. Its ninety minutes until the afternoon session.

"And speaking of time," Blaine says. He reaches behind his ear to quiet the alarm. "I was hoping to use the gymnasium before the afternoon meetings begin. Its been lovely talking with you today, Tina." He gives her a short bow.

"Likewise," she says. And then, as hes walking away, she calls out, "Hey, Blaine?"

He turns. "Yes?"

"There are pianos on the ship, you know," she says with a cock of her head thats almost shy.

"Oh?"

"Id love to hear you play sometime. We could sing together?"

"That sounds— Id like that," he says. He loves her smile.

.

Blaine pushes himself into a workout with single-minded focus. He refuses to let his thoughts stray beyond the demands of breath, balance, and motion. After the rowing simulator and a circuit of weight training, he finds a sparring dummy, and runs through a basic practice form of kicks, punches, and feints. He hasnt dedicated very much time to the maintenance of his martial skills since leaving the Academy. Today, its a satisfying meditation and release for his body, even if he ends his workout with aching knuckles.

In the shower after, he has less luck keeping disruptive thoughts and questions from surfacing. Its as if his doubts and fears have their own voices, and hes grossly misjudged so many things in his restless desire. Its led him to confusion. How does he untangle it?

.

On the way back to his quarters, Blaine remains disoriented. He knows neither how hes supposed to think or feel about Kurt being with this other man, nor can he find a place to anchor himself to begin working through an understanding. Whats actually true here? What can he rely on outside himself to work his way to a solution. Is there anything? None of the rules or standards of his world apply here. If they did—if they had—he wouldnt be in his current situation, lost and unsure of how to find his way back to clarity. He knows neither what he wants (within the realm of what may actually be possible) nor what expected of him. He cant even guess at what Kurt wants. He thought it was more than this though.

Is he meant to pretend he doesnt know about Chandler—and potential other brief affairs? Act like he doesnt care if thats what this is between him and Kurt? If the Elyssians truly value honesty, can he share his discomfort? Can he ask Kurt for... what exactly? For Blaine to be more? Its not a question that even makes sense in this context. Kurt may not view what he and Blaine shared last night as anything more intimate than sharing a meal. The recollection of what had seemed so intimate and important—life altering for Blaine, but merely a pleasant trifle to Kurt—makes Blaine flush hot in sickening realization of his own foolishness. He cannot undo whats been done.

And then, "Blaine!" Its Kurts voice, behind him. Blaine runs his hand over his hair. Its still damp from his post workout shower. He stops, turns, and closes his eyes at the inevitable response from his body. Its becoming exhausting, losing that portion of his self-discipline every time he sees Kurt. And he resents the irritation and indignation that fuse and crawl under his skin. The combination is unwelcome and disorienting.

"Yes?" he asks cautiously.

"Hey," Kurt says, and his smile is bright and wide. "Im sorry I missed you after lunch. Id hoped to catch up, but I saw you walking with Tina. She told me youd be at the gym."

"Just on my way back," Blaine says.

"I wanted to ask, how are you today?" Kurt asks, stepping close into Blaines personal space; he runs his hand up Blaines arm to his shoulder. "Do you have time to… dally?"

Even though Blaine expects the rush of warmth and dizziness at Kurts proximity, he keeps his breathing even. "The next meeting is in half an hour," Blaine says. "I dont wish to be late."

"Mmm, thats more than enough time for something quick and satisfying." And Kurts fingers are at his collar, tugging it open, and Kurts body is warm and inviting, moving closer into contact, pressing Blaine to trip a step back until his back is against the wall. Kurts lips skim his cheek, smooth and soft. "You smell so good," Kurt whispers. "Ive been thinking about you all morning."

The back of Blaines head collides with the wall and Kurts lips catch at his earlobe. Blaine shivers and forces his eyes to stay open. "Im sure thats not true," he says, and gently pushes at Kurts shoulder. Even without his present reservations, the corridor is not a place for this. They could be seen by anyone. "Please, Kurt, wait."

"We can go somewhere else," Kurt offers. "The spas not far from here, they have private rooms. I could help you relieve any…" Kurts hand drops to his waist, his fingertips skim lower, a fleeting caress. "…tension left over from your exercise?"

Sudden laughter bursts up Blaines throat, bringing with it a tinge of hysteria, and Kurt presses closer again, as if invited by the sound. Its all so shameless and brazen, and neither Kurts words nor his touch are making Blaine feel special.

"Please, Kurt, I shouldnt—" Blaine says. "Not like this."

Kurts hands leave his body and he steps back. Cool air wafts between them, and Kurts expression is drawn into concern. "Shouldnt? Does that mean you cant or you dont want to?" Kurt asks.

I dont know? Blaine wants to say, for part of him wants Kurt to interrogate him until he understands his own distress and ambivalence better, wants Kurt to tell him what this all means, and wants to know what he means to Kurt—even as he dreads the truth. But instead he blurts out an unintended question with the force of accusation: "Whos Chandler?"

"What?"Kurts head jerks up. "Why are you asking me about him?"

Blaine swallows and stares up at the tapered arch of the corridor above him. Its pearlescent glow is steady, but he is not. He swallows again before he speaks, forcing the words out before he can repress them. "Tina said you were bedding him. And I… I saw you with him, after lunch."

"Tina said—?" Kurt sighs. "I wish she wouldnt." Kurt steps back and Blaine risks looking at his face, sees his scowl.

"Only because I asked her. Was what she told me wrong?"

With a shake of his head, Kurt replies, "No, but…" Kurt sighs again. "Look, Blaine, Im not oblivious to how this all may seem to you, and I wanted to talk to you about it. The right way, not like this."

"You looked very intimate when I saw you with him."

"Youre upset about this. I understand," Kurt says, but Blaines not convinced he does. Mutual understanding may be impossible here, and Kurts tone rankles instead of soothes. Blaine doesnt need to be talked down to.

"Are you still with him?" Blaine asks. "Did you, um…with him this afternoon?" He cannot make himself say the words to fill in the question.

Kurt shakes his head. "No. He asked me if I was interested in being with him tonight. I told him no, I was content with how we had left things, and I had plans with someone else."

"With me?" Blaine asks.

"I hoped so, yes. I want to take you to dinner tonight, and maybe to the Garden after, if you wanted to do that."

Blaine drops his head and his gaze. "Tina also told me you like to keep your affairs brief."

Kurt swears softly, words Blaine doesnt know, but the manner of delivery tells him enough.

"Was she wrong?" Blaine asks.

"This may not be the best place for this conversation. I know you havent much time," Kurt says.

Blaine nods and resignation grows dense in his chest. The Ambassador warned him. Hes been ignorant and wrong and mistaken and—

"I meant what I said last night, Blaine. I like you. A great deal." Kurts hand ventures back, a light touch on his arm, an attempt to draw his attention.

"I believe," Blaine begins, turning his gaze back up to meet Kurts eyes. He speaks firmly. "That means very different things to each of us. Im sorry, Kurt, but Im not sure Im still interested in pursuing…" Blaine trails off for lack of a word to name what this experience with Kurt has been. A brief affair that he mistook for the promise of a deep connection? The realization that he may only be for Kurt a pleasant and transient diversion? His inability to name it must be a reflection of just how misguided hes been. And isnt it so often hope that leads him astray? Hope, here, that this was something to enlighten, enrich, and somehow—against reason it seems—endure?

"Blaine," Kurt says, pained. "Theres been a misunderstanding. Please, can we talk about this later, when we have more time? We can have dinner, and we can talk."

"No, thank you, Kurt. I dont think thats a good idea."

Kurts expression freezes into an unhappy acceptance of Blaines rejection, and Blaine sees how the warmth leaves Kurt. His eyes grow guarded, he speaks more stiffly. "All right," he says. "But if you should change your mind, let me know. I enjoy your company."

Blaine blinks back the heat in his eyes, for he knows he can withstand a regret more easily than a loss.