The Moulin Rose is... amazing. There's no other word to describe it, Blaine realises as he steps in.

Basically, a dance floor occupies almost the entire building. On the other side of the room there's a stage, where a man is singing some pop song he doesn't recognize, and behind him an enormous screen shows clips of the people who are dancing. There must be hidden cameras somewhere, Blaine thinks.

On the right and left sides of the room, on a raised floor, he can see a few squared tables surrounded by sofas (Blaine is shocked to see they're white) and a counter on both sides.

As for in the entrance, almost everything is pink, but it doesn't even bother him anymore, because the people dancing and sitting at the tables are so many and dressed in so many colours, that they make the place look like some kind of kaleidoscope.

He loves it.

"Wow. Just... Wow," he gasps.

"Awesome, isn't it?" Rachel takes him by the hand, and leads him through the dancing crowd, to the table next to the stage.

Tina is already there, smiling and waving at them.

"Where are Santana and Brittany?" Mercedes asks, sitting next to her, followed right afterwards by Rachel and Blaine.

"Dancing together somewhere, Brittany's number is right after Kurt's," she answers, taking a sip from the drink she's holding and handing it to her.

Blaine looks around, his eyes open wide in fascination. Rachel doesn't even wait for him to ask her something, and starts talking.

"This is our table," she explains, as the other two girls nod, "well, not really, but we always sit here so everyone who works here started considering it our table by now. You have the best view of the stage, and we basically come here just to see Brittany and Kurt perform, so that makes sense. What's on tonight, Tina?" she asks then, turning to the woman.

She takes out of her bag a pink sheet, gives a quick look at it and then hands it to Rachel. "Right after Ben there's Jude, then Connie and Jake are singing together, and then there's Kurt, Brittany and Kurt again. Then there's just some random deejay."

"Le Jazz Hot, uh? Oh, he was amazing when he sang it in second year."

"I hope he's not cross-dressing again, though. It was weird."

"It's not, Mercedes - it's theatre."

"Please don't start to argue aga- oh, Mike just texted me, he can't make it tonight! It was a tough day, he's pretty tired."

"Well, Tina, you could go home earlier to cheer him up a bit, then."

"Rachel!"

Blaine tries to listen to the dialogue, but he can't really understand about what or whom they're talking about, so he lets his mind and gaze wander over the crowd. Is Kurt there, dancing with someone? Or is he in the dressing rooms? The thought of meeting him makes Blaine quite uncomfortable and nervous. Not only Mercedes and Rachel described him as the most amazing person in the whole world, but there are too many questions about him and the whole Moulin Rose issue, too: of course, the place looks amazing, but he has learned that not everything is always as it seems.

Sometimes homely place are not homely at all; sometimes, warm and nice people are ready to hit you as soon as they find out who you truly are.

He shakes his head a little, to free his mind from sad thoughts, and turns to the girls, who stopped talking.

"So... What are we doing now?" he asks, adjusting his tie.

Suddenly, they all stand up, as Mercedes shouts, "We have fun!"

Before he can even realise it, he is in the middle of the crowd, dancing frenetically, following his friends' moves, laughing and taking a sip from the drinks they hand him ever and anon. At some point Mercedes shouts something, pointing at the screen behind the stage, and Blaine can see his own, confused, red-cheeked face staring back at him.

The music, the noise, the smell of sweat and perfume make his head spin, as he dances and laughs and has fun with the girls. Now and then he takes some time to glance at the people surrounding him, as if to figure out who, between the women and the men dancing, sells her or his body.

The thing is, he can't really tell. Everybody just seems so... normal. Just like every other club he has seen in his life. He had imagined it as a filthy, dark place with red lights and men harassing and abusing of the dancers against the walls.

As soon as he realises that this is actually the idea he had of the Moulin Rose, he feels really bad about himself. He always preached that prejudice was just ignorance - and there he had been, afraid of stepping in this place because of the fame it had.  

He turns to Rachel, who's dancing between Mercedes and Tina, to tell her he's really sorry about it, and he now understood his mistake, but suddenly the music stops, and everything goes silent.

"Wha-"

"Oh my God! I totally forgot! It's starting!" Rachel squeaks before he can ask what the hell is happening (it would be, like, the third time in less than two days). People turn to glare at them, but he doesn't even have the time to feel embarrassed, because Rachel and Mercedes suddenly grabbed him by his wrists and are now running towards the table.

Santana and a blonde girl are already sitting on the sofa, and the Hispanic is whispering something at the blonde's ear, making her giggle. As soon as they sink into the sofa, panting to catch their breaths, Santana looks up at Rachel.

"Just in time, Gayberry!" she scolds her.

The woman ignores her on purpose, and leans to Blaine's ear. "That's Brittany, Santana's girlfriend."

Blaine has just the time to figure out that wait, what, Santana has a girlfriend?, that the lights go down.

"And now, ladies and gentleman... Kurt Hummel," a low voice announces, in the dark.

Then, a spotlight slowly turns on, floodlighting the figure of somebody sitting on a swing, a few meters high, as the music begins playing.

Blaine blinks.

And then he blinks again.

And then, he just can't stop staring.

Because in front of his stunned eyes, swinging softly to the music, there's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen.

"That's our Sparkling Diamond," Mercedes whispers, with a proud smile.

But Blaine doesn't even look at her, because he just can't tear his eyes off of the celestial angel that has just appeared. With his right hand he keeps a dark gray fedora low on his face, creating a dark shadow that hides his eyes. His lips are rosy and thin, and his skin... his skin looks like smooth, pearly velvet, that glows under the ray of white light. Blaine suddenly feels the desperate urge to touch it, even though he can only see it on the wide screen, because Kurt is too far right now.

Why does he have to be so far?

He looks simply... stunning. Too perfect to belong to this world.

And then, Kurt starts singing.

"About twenty years ago, way down in New Orleans," he begins, softly.

Blaine's mouth hangs open, and he doesn't even know how to shut it anymore, because- just because.

His voice.

It's- Blaine simply doesn't know any word to describe it.

It's like a raindrop, slowly running down his chest, softly caressing his heart, but leaving a burning trace behind. Limpid, gentle, as clear as crystal - but it makes his skin tickle, and his stomach twist with something he can't name.

He's an angel. A flawless angel. Something precious, too pure to be touched, too perfect to walk the ways of this filthy, wrong world.

Why did they push you down here? Were they too jealous of your beauty, up in the Heavens?

"A group of fellows found a new kind of music, and they decided to call it Jazz."

On the last word, he suddenly raises his head, showing the rosy cheeks and the dark, long eyelashes.

And his eyes.

Oh, his eyes.

They are crystal - that kind of pale, luminous blue that seems to shine from the inside, so full of light and different shades that it seems to hide a whole world. If Kurt's voice was a colour, Blaine's sure it would be the one of his eyes.

He was right - he is the most beautiful creature that has ever lived this world.

"Before they knew it, it was whizzin' 'round the world... the world was ready for a blue kind of music..."

While singing, slowly Kurt stands up on the swing, holding on the rope with a hand, making wide gestures with the other, and Blaine can admire his slim, graceful body, and the way clothes perfectly fit him; how that white shirt and the dark gray waistcoat hug his waist, and those trousers - how are they even trousers? They're too tight to be trousers.

"And now they play it from Steamboat Springs..."

Blaine is pretty sure that as soon as he sings these words Kurt glimpses at their table, because Rachel starts waving frantically.

Something warm starts spreading from his stomach to his whole body, and Blaine suddenly realises that Kurt is not simply breath taking and perfect and stunning.

He's hot, too.

Extremely hot.

He swallows hard, trying to focus his attention on something that is not the man's long legs.

"To La Paz!"

All of a sudden the music becomes faster, and Kurt grins, as he throws his hat to the crowd.

Blaine doesn't even know how it happened, but the second later he is standing, and the fedora is in his trembling hands.

"Nice catch, Dopey," Santana laughs, as he sits down again, looking at the hat as if it was some kind of magical item that had just appeared in his hands, trying is best not to caress it or kiss it or smell it.

Kurt starts swinging in circle on top of the crowd, which starts shouting and cheering in excitement.

Then he smiles.

He simply... smiles.

And Blaine's heart skips a beat.

The swing then lowers, without stopping spinning, and Kurt jumps down, as light as a feather. How can someone be so elegant?, Blaine thinks, as Kurt starts singing again.

The crowd splits in half as he walks down from the stage, where women and men are dancing. He snaps his fingers to the music, dancing and singing and smiling and blowing kisses to people.

Blaine stares, as a man swoons because Kurt is moving his hips in some kind of hypnotic way right in front of his face.

Please come here and look at me, Kurt.