Kurt's smile is wide and bright and lights up the room, as he walks in the middle of the stage, still singing.

He loves this. People shouting his name, looking at him as if he was some kind of divinity, adoring his moves and his voice. How long has he been waiting for this? For people actually to like him and what he does?

Lima seems so far, right now. Being smashed against the lockers, thrown into dumpsters, made fun of because of his appearance... those days are gone, and will never come back again.

It's his time to shine. His time to be happy.

Finally, it's his turn.

He opens his arms wide and stops singing, as Sandy walks on stage, attempting miserably to follow the rhythm of the instrumental interlude.

God, he's embarrassing.

But he pays his rent, so he'll have to cope with it.

He touches his own chest as soon as they start dancing together, switching off the small microphone that is attached to the inside of his vest. He definitely doesn't want anyone to hear the conversations he's about to have.

"Is the duke here?" he asks, hiding his worry behind an excited smile - people are still looking at them, after all. As Sandy puts a hand on his hip - Kurt has to admit he is slightly disgusted by the touch - and grabs his other hand, he smiles.

"Of course he is, sweetie, he came just for you. On the left, wearing a suit," he says, his voice covered by the loud music. They spin a bit, so that Kurt can gaze in the direction Sandy's eyes show him.

"Which one?" he asks, confused. There are two men in a suit, sitting at different tables, but actually next to each other. The one on the right is sitting between Rachel and Mercedes, he realises, and the thing surprises him quite a lot.

The girls would never be friends with one of them. It can't be him, can he?

Sandy looks at the same spot, with a twirl. "The one talking to Rachel, darling. Who else?"

In the meantime, something has happened at Blaine's table. While bouncing up and down because of the excitement, Rachel accidentally hit a man's back, making him spill his drink. Right now she is talking to the man, claiming that it is his fault, and that he's acting really rude by accusing her. The man looks pretty angry, and Rachel is about to snap something irritating, when she notices someone standing next to the first one. He lifts the edge of his jacket, with a smile that looks pretty evil, and Rachel can see a gun tied to his belt.

Eyes wide in fear she suddenly stops talking and goes back to their table, shaking. She turns to Blaine, hoping to be reassured because that man has basically threatened her with a gun, but the boy was and is way too busy staring at Kurt dancing to pay attention to anything, because he's sure that a few moments before Kurt looked at him.

Rachel is still ranting, but he couldn't care less right now.

He wants Kurt to look at him again.

With a deep dip, Kurt is able to look at the two tables again. Rachel is actually talking to the man sitting next to her, even though he is clearly ignoring her to stare at him.

It's him then.

But they can't be friends. He knows his girls, they would never do anything like that to him - well, perhaps Rachel could, but not Mercedes and definitely not Santana, considering what is going on with Brittany right now. Kurt needs to be logical about this: perhaps they're trying to present the play to the Duke before he meets him, and they're acting nice for this reason. He should know better - he's paid to act nice.

He's paid to love men.

He's a prostitute. A whore. He sells his body for money.

But he can't feel disgusted about himself.

Right now he has to sing and be fabulous and make people shout his name.

He will have the time to hate his life - tomorrow morning, in bed, crying his eyes out because his body belongs to the highest bidder, now.

He bites his lip, trying to shrug off bad thoughts about himself.

He knows that's not completely true.

He knows why he's doing this.

He has a goal. That's all it matters.

Pull yourself together, Kurt.

Sandy winks at him, and he knows that means it's the time to change his costume. Gloria - the woman in charge of the costumes - quickly gets next to him as the Moulin Rose dancers surround them, hiding them from the screaming crowd. Kurt bends down so that no one can see him as he takes his clothes off, wearing the ones Gloria hands him under the watchful eye of his boss. He hates it when he stares at him - actually, he hates it when every man looks at his naked body. It makes him feel vulnerable; it makes him feel as if he's just flesh, and he knows he's a lot more than that.

"Could you please turn the other way as I get changed, Sandy?" he snaps, glaring at him. Sandy shrugs, with a resigned sigh.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but my eyes can't resist the smooth gleam of porcelain skin. Asking me not to stare at you is asking a moth not to go towards a flame."

Kurt's snort of disappointment is well hidden by Gloria's laugh, as she ties the laces of the sleeveless shirt he has just put on, and Sandy doesn't seem to notice it.

"What's his type?" he asks then, as he takes off his trousers, and wears the other ones the woman gives him, "Wilting flower? Bright and bubbly? Or smouldering tempter?" he says, his voice and face changing as he suggests something else.

Ryerson looks concentrated, as he stares at him. "I'd say smouldering tempter. Just try not to make those faces, it looks like you have some kind of colic, sweetheart. Be yourself, and he will fall at your feet like one Sandy Ryerson in front of Miss Aretha."

Kurt nods, and Sandy caresses his naked arm with an intimacy that makes him quite uncomfortable. "Remember, Porcelain... do this, and you will never have to do it again. A real show, in a real theatre, and I will - you will be-

"A real actor," he finishes, eyes sparkling with hope.

Sandy is right. If he does this, he won't have to sell himself anymore. The show's profit will give him enough money to pay his NYADA tuition fee this year, and Dad won't have to worry about anything besides himself and his health.

"Now! Go, go, go!" Sandy suddenly shouts, as Gloria disappears behind the circle of dancers. Kurt jumps up, turning his microphone on again, and Sandy stands straight after.

A roar welcomes him as he smiles to the crowd, throwing his hands in the air.

And he starts singing again.

Blaine can't stop a sigh of relief from coming out of his lips when the elegant figure of Kurt pops out of the circle of dancers.

"Missed him, Dopey?" Santana grins, high-fiving Mercedes, as Rachel burst into laughter.

"He's not going anywhere, Blaine!" she says, putting a hand on his shoulder, failing to act serious. Blaine blushes hard, turning to look at them.

"Stop it!" he gasps, trying to hide his smile behind an extremely offended look.

"Stop what?"

The girls open their eyes wide, as they stare at something behind him; they stop laughing out hard and begin giggling, and Blaine is so confused he turns around to see what is so funny - besides his embarrassing behaviour.

His eyes go wide.

His mouth hangs open.

His heart stops beating.

And suddenly it is pounding faster than it ever did in his chest, and an unpleasant feeling is rolling in his stomach, and breathing never seemed so hard because Kurt is standing in front of him.

Yes, gorgeous, amazing, incredibly sultry Kurt is standing in font of him and looking at him and smiling at him and Blaine is not really sure he's still breathing right now.

God, he's even more gorgeous now that he can see him properly and not from a flat screen in the distance. How can he be more gorgeous? How is it even possible? Blaine can't help letting his gaze wander over the boy; the milky velvet of his skin looks even softer, and his arms are actually more muscular than what he thought, and ohmygod are those really leather pants?!

Blaine needs to cool down quickly, or he will burst in flames in less than a second.

In, out, in, out, Blaine, it isn't hard, he thinks, crossing his legs - he really has to - and trying to remember how to breathe. He fixes his eyes on Kurt's face, because having a hard-on the first time he sees him isn't really a good idea - but damn, his lips look just as tempting.

And his eyes.

God, his eyes.

"Hi, Kurt," Rachel chuckles, as she hides her smile behind her folded hands. Kurt smiles at her, as the music keeps going on.

"Sorry, Rachel, I didn't come for you...but for this handsome man sitting next to you." 

Blaine's throat suddenly feels extremely dry, as his heart skips a beat.

This handsome man sitting next to you.

This handsome man.

This. Handsome. Man.

Alright, Blaine. You're the only guy sitting next to Rachel. He's talking about you.

His brain seems to be refusing the idea.

Kurt wants him.

Wha-Wh-How?!

"Me?" he asks, dazed, pointing at himself.

Kurt smiles softly, pretty amused. "Of course, silly!"

The girls burst into laughter, as he blushes again.

Alright, Anderson, this is your moment. You've got to use every inch of charm you have in your body, and you know that's a lot. Stun him with your best sexy look, give him a sultry smile. Act confident, act confident, act con-

"...Thank you," he babbles, his cheeks that start burning in embarrassment.

Did he- He didn't say that aloud, did he?

Considering that Mercedes just fell from the sofa, and Santana in laughing so hard she's crying, he probably did.

Well done, Anderson. How very eloquent of you, I'm impressed.

Kurt can't help letting out a small laugh, but his lips are curved in a smirk the moment later. "My pleasure," he says, his voice suddenly deep and husky.

Blaine finds swallowing pretty hard right now, staring at those eyes that don't look so angelic anymore.

The audience laughs, and he wants the earth to crack and swallow him now. His face is burning so much that he's positive it will burst in flames in a few seconds, and he just want everything to end. He has never been so ashamed in his whole life - and that includes the time he serenaded that guy that worked in the GAP, Jeremiah, and had been turned down in front of Sebastian.

Who, of course, is still making jokes about it now.

Kurt suddenly turns to the crowd, which suddenly goes silent. "I guess," he says, softly swaying his hips - right in front of Blaine's face - "the Sparkling Diamond has made his choice."

Someone boos, someone cheers, and the moment later Kurt takes his hand and leads him to the dance-floor.

Blaine needs a few moments to realise what is happening - Kurt wants to dance with him, Kurt is holding his hand, he is touching Kurt's skin - and can just stare, as the world around them seems to stop. He was right - Kurt's skin is velvet. His hands are cold, though, as cold as the crystal of his eyes; it makes him wish he could warm them up, somehow.

As soon as Kurt walks on the dance-floor, his hand still in Blaine's, the crowd seems to split in half around him. He looks like some kind of king or god, Blaine wonders, people love him and would kill to be with him, but they're too overwhelmed by his presence to come close.

Le Jazz Hot fades, as another song starts playing; it's "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" by Whitney Houston, and Blaine gasps with delight.

"I love this song!"

"You do? I'm glad," Kurt smiles, as he starts moving his shoulders and hips almost hypnotically, dancing in front of him. Blaine looks towards the stage, trying to stay focused, and notices that there's the blonde girl from before - Santana's girlfriend, he still can't believe it - singing, together with Santana.

"Wow, they're good," he gasps, staring at them.

"Yes, they most definitely are," Kurt agrees, "so, you know the girls?" he asks, in an attempt to start some kind of conversation.

Blaine smiles, relaxing a bit his tensed shoulders: talking about friends is easy, dancing is easy, and nothing can possibly go wrong.

But Kurt is so close. So damn close.

"Yes! The circumstances were a bit strange, I must say, and at first I wasn't really sure about it."

Kurt blinks, slightly confused. "About what?" he asks, biting his tongue straight after. Never ask anything to the clients. Act sweet or sexy or whatever they like, do stuff, please them. Nothing else.

Strangely, the man doesn't seem annoyed. "Well, about coming here, of course. But they said they needed me, and they insisted so much, so I agreed. And I must say, I don't regret it at all."

Kurt would probably swoon for the man's charming smile, if something in his heart hadn't just broken.

The girls sent him here.

Of course they needed a financer, of course it was a matter of life or death to all of them. But to think that they had sent him there, knowing what he would be doing to him late that night, knowing how much Kurt suffered...

He just can't believe it. How could they do this to him?

Of course you don't regret it, you bastard.

"It was very kind of you to take interest in our little show," he says instead, with a smile so bright that it lifts Blaine's heart up.

But suddenly Kurt bends down - God, he can feel his breath on his crotch, for Christ's sake! - and goes up again.

"Of course, assuming you like what I do," Blaine gasps, trying to remember how to talk and breathe and live.

Kurt can't believe it. Is this guy kidding or is he just stupid?!

He hates it. He absolutely hates it, because this man's smile is so nice and his eyes are beautiful now that he looks at them and he sounds and looks so charming when he isn't embarrassed but then he talks about fucking him for money like it was something normal and he just can't stand it.

Why does it have to be like this? It's just unfair. Probably, in another world, in another universe, Kurt would have met him, and even fallen in love with him, because he really seems a nice person.

But he's not.

And Kurt can't fall in love with him, or with anyone else.

"I'm sure I will."

It isn't long, before Brittany's song is finished and Kurt has to sing again to close the performance. Blaine is looking at the swing, where he is sitting again, fabulous and gorgeous as before.

He knows his lips are curved in an extremely stupid smile right now, but he can't help it. He feels so happy. He has made new friends, met a flawless, perfect man who doesn't seem to belong to this world, he has danced with him.

And it all happened in less than a week.

He feels so lucky right now, so free, like he hasn't been for - well, forever.

Kurt's swing starts going up, as his voice becomes more and more high-pitched on one single letter.

His vocal range is amazing, Blaine thinks, staring at him with wide, astonished eyes. He had never met someone like that before.

"Wow", he gasps.

"I know," Rachel sighs. He can hear just how much she is proud of him, and the idea makes him both glad and envious, too. Of course, his friends love him and look up to him and admire him, but they're not proud of him.

No one ever was.

Not even his parents.

The swing stops mid air. Kurt has now to sing the last three words; then the lights will go down, and the performance will come to an end.

He takes a deep breath, as the drums roll.

"Le Jazz ho-

A gasp.

His eyes close, his hands lose grip on the ropes, his mind goes black.

Somebody screams.

A solemn stillness holds the crowd, as Kurt falls.