"Rachel, I really don't feel ok about this."

Blaine bites his lip, staring at the bright pink windmill towering over him. It's partly hidden by a rectangular building, and it's so big that Blaine can do anything but wonder how he didn't notice it in first place, considering that it's exactly in front of his apartment, on the other side of the wide road. Probably, in the light of day and with no lights turned on, it doesn't stand out as much as it does now, but even so, it's a pink windmill, for Christ's sake! You really don't see such a thing that often.

Mercedes, Rachel and Santana go on walking, in front of him, without realising that he has actually stopped.

There he is, about to get inside the Moulin Rose.

Which is a gay nightclub.

Oh, and rather unfortunately, it happens to be a bordello, too.

He suddenly feels sick. "Rachel, I'm going back. I can't do this." he whispers, looking down, secretly hoping that the ground shows him a way to flee immediately. But it doesn't. It doesn't open up and swallow him entirely, or anything like that.

The woman gives his shoulder a supportive squeeze, with a bright smile.

"Don't be silly, Blaine! You will do perfectly, I swear! You're even gay, so what's the problem?"

Oh yeah.

In fact, what's the problem?

Why should there be a problem?!

The girl misunderstands his silence. "Because you are gay, aren't you? You didn't tell me a lie this morning just to turn me down, did you? Because I told you I'm already engaged, but I have feelings too, and to do a thing like that would be very rude of you." Rachel hisses, suddenly turning to glare at him with a murderous look.

"Oh, no, no, no!" he shouts, staring at her, shaking his head and raising his hands, his eyes wide with concern, "I would never do a thing like that! Rachel, it isn't about being gay or not, it's just that-"

"Come on, Dopey!" says Santana, looking stunning and fabulous in her tight, red dress. She gives him a slap on the back, strong enough to make him stagger, "You can't be scared! Man up!" she grins.

"I'm sorry, Santana," he snaps back, folding his arms and starting walking again towards the door of the dancehall, "but we're about to get in a bordello. I think anybody would be worried."

He takes a few seconds to realise that the woman isn't following him, like Mercedes and Rachel are doing.

He looks behind, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Santana is there, standing still, clenching his fist so tight that her hands are shaking. Rage, disgust and something else, which Blaine doesn't know how to name, are burning in her gaze, flames dancing a deathly dance.

If he didn't know that she just isn't that type, he would swear that those sparkles in the corner of her eyes are tears.

"This is not a bordello." she says. Her voice is shaking in anger.

Before Blaine can even open his mouth to apologize - what does he have to apologize for, anyway? -, Santana is running past them, right inside the building, shutting the door with terrible violence.

Blaine blinks, staring at the door.

Wait, what?

"What was that?" asks Blaine, scratching his head in confusion.

Rachel puts a hand on her hip, raising the index of the other. "Well, the fact is-"

"Hell Rachel, shut up!" Mercedes suddenly bursts out, casting a reproachful look at her.

"Mercedes, he deserves to know-"

"He'll know when she decides to tell him! It's none of your business, Rachel, can't you get something as simple as that?" she then turns to Blaine, before Rachel can open her mouth and start an argument, and her gaze softens, as does her voice, "Blaine, remember, never name the b-word in front of Santana. It's a sensitive spot to her."

"It's a sensitive spot to all of us."

As she says this simple sentence, Rachel's voice is as weak as a whisper. Under Blaine's shocked look, tears gather in her eyes, but she refuses to let go.

She has cried too much over this - she can't anymore.

She has to be strong, smile, and act like everything will be ok.

She has to do it for every one of them.

Blaine feels his heart shatter in a thousand pieces.

God, he's so stupid.

He actually understands that that sentence was pretty offensive, but he didn't think they would take it that personally, thou-

Suddenly, realisation flashes through his mind, as fast, as bright, as stunning as lightening.

Kurt - this wonderful, amazing, fantastic Kurt, as the girls describe him - is his friends' friend.

And he works there.

And he has just called this place a freaking bordello.

God, he's so stupid!

How can he be so stupid?

He lowers his head, ashamed of himself.

I didn't want to hurt anyone.

"I'm sorry. I was stupid." he mumbles, staring at the floor again.

"You couldn't know." Mercedes' hand reaches his, and gives a light squeeze, "But one thing you have to know. This is not one of those filthy places, Blaine. It's true, some of the boys and girls here sell their bodies... But it's just a few of them. And it's not something that the owner of this place approves. It's their choice."

How?

How can someone choose to do something like that?

How can someone - a human being, a person - choose to be treated as if he had no emotions, as if he was only a body, flesh to be touched and abused?

Blaine doesn't ask these questions, though. He is sensible enough to understand that they would hurt the women's feelings, and he doesn't want to, not again.

So he raises a tiny smile instead, and nods slightly. "I will remember."

The moment later, Mercedes is squeezing him in the tightest hug he's ever received.

"So then!" Rachel shouts, clapping her hands once, in order to get attention, "are you ready?" she asks, with a bright smile.

"Let's go!" he answers straight after, looking as if the idea alone was enough to make him eager.

Blaine knows he's lying. He knows he's not ready to get in a place like that, he knows that he will feel uneasy and he really doesn't have a good feeling about all this.

But if lying is enough to create a smile so bright on the faces of these two girls that have accepted him in their family from the first moment they saw him... he's willing to do it again and again.

As soon as Blaine walks through one of the glass doors, he finds himself in the weirdest place he's ever seen.

First of all, everything is pink. Outrageously pink. The walls are pink, the tables are pink, the counter behind which a man in a pink shirt is serving drinks is pink, and the doors that lead to the toilets are pink.

He gazes around, and a shiver runs down his back when he realises that porcelain dolls are staring at him from the top of pink shelves.

He really can't match the weirdness of the setting to all the people that are in the room, chatting in little groups, sitting at tables, or swinging slowly at the soft music that is playing in the background, because seriously, how can someone even like this place?

He leans to Rachel's ear. "This place doesn't seem so full to me," he whispers, "I mean, I thought that-"

"Blaine," the woman stares at him, blinking, "don't tell me you thought this was the club."

Blaine lets out a confused, little smile. "Uhm... yes?"

"Please, Blaine!" Rachel shakes her head, clearly not believing him, "This is just the entrance."

"The entrance?!"

Blaine's mouth hangs open, because, seriously?

The entrance of this place has a bar and tables and people dancing?

Just- how?!

"Come with me."

She takes his arm, gives Mercedes a nod - she had left them to go to chat with the barman - and leads him through a door that he hadn't even noticed before.

They are outside now, in some kind of wide courtyard. Blaine can see some people here too, gazing at the starless New York night or simply enjoying the soft, cool breeze, lying on the grass or sitting on the few benches next to the sides of the garden.

He can't understand the purpose of this, though. Why should a dancehall have a courtyard?

As if she had read his mind, Rachel answers to his silent question. "So- this is the courtyard of the Moulin Rose. We use it when it's really hot inside, or when there are too many people to get inside." she explains, opening her arms wide as to show him the place.

Her words throw him off a bit - not only because hello, how is it even possible that there are so many people inside that you have to stay outside?, but because of the ‘we' she used. It sounds so...intimate. It's like she knows this place more than she knows her own house.

"You come here very often, don't you?" he asks, looking around, interested.

"Of course we do, silly," Rachel answers, with a teasing smile, "we come here every night to see Kurt perform, remember? Oh, and Brittany too."

Note to self: ask who Brittany is, he thinks, and hopes to remember: he can't ask the question now, because there's a much more important issue to discuss.

"I'm sorry, Rachel, but I really can't understand;" he says, turning his head to stare at her, "you're best friends with Kurt, aren't you? So why- Why do I have to do all this? Why do I have to come here and meet Kurt and sing to him and convince him, when you could just, you know, do it? I don't think he would turn you all down, wouldn't he?"

"Well, although Kurt is really appreciative of my talent - and how couldn't he be? - he isn't as much of my ideas. He has this prejudice when it comes to my suggestions, even though it doesn't really make sense, because as you have seen, my ideas are usually - or better, always - extremely intriguing and challenging."

"Yeah, sure, but," he tries to explain what he means, which is really hard, because it looks as if Rachel doesn't want to understand, "even though the music may be mine, the idea still isn't. I mean, what would change, if it were you singing the songs? They would be as good, I believe." he adds.

"Uhm, well..." Rachel mumbles, as she bites his lip, looking really, really nervous, "it's because..."

"Because we want you to meet Kurt and have fun!" Mercedes shouts, appearing suddenly on Blaine's side and taking him by his arm, "Come on, let's go!"

Rachel lets out a sigh of relief, as they start walking towards the dancehall.

Once again, Mercedes has avoided the disaster.

I'm sorry, Blaine, she thinks, as a joyful smile comes back to her lips, I promise you will know, just- now is not the time.

In the meanwhile, Blaine stays silent, as thousands of thoughts flash across his mind. This is weird. Santana's reaction, Rachel's look as if she was about to tell a secret twice, Mercedes' intervention... they clearly hide something; even Blaine realised it- and that means quite a lot, considering that he usually is quite... slow, to understand these kind of things.

But what is it?

They all seem really nice people, even though they're loud, weird and fight a lot.

He can't understand what's going on, and it annoys him.

When they get in front of an enormous, dark pink door, Rachel smiles at him.

"Are you ready?" she asks, for the second time that night.

Blaine takes a deep breath, and nods. This is it, he thinks.

"So, if you are..." Rachel declares in a solemn voice, "please follow us, sir, in the most amazing and wonderful place you've ever seen. We'd like to welcome you, to the Moulin Rose."

And then she opens the door.