They party all night, back in the attic over Blaine's apartment. Music thumps hard in the air, hitting the walls, shaking the floor as people dance, drink, cheer. Santana and Brittany are making out on the couch and Rachel has wrapped her arms around Artie and is now calling him Finn, while Mercedes dances around them, a bottle of beer in each hand.

Blaine can't see any of this, though. Head against the cold glass, he is crawled up against the window of his apartment, staring with longing eyes at the big windmill across the road. As he can see from there, the lights in the highest room are still on: apparently, Kurt is not sleeping yet.

Kurt.

He is the reason why Blaine is not celebrating with his friends upstairs. He tried to dance, laugh, sing with them, but he just couldn't; everything in his mind is Kurt's eyes, Kurt's smile, Kurt's hands, Kurt. Why did he act like he was in love with him, and what kind of relationship is there between him and the Duke? And why does he, Blaine, who has just met him, even care?

Then there's the mystery around the whole Moulin Rose. To Blaine, it seemed just a nightclub as any other; where did the bad reputation come from?

He needs an answer, and he needs it now, or Blaine feels his head will explode because of all the questions storming and flashing inside of it.

He stands up, grabs a coat and walks through the door.

The decision is taken. He will talk to Kurt.

Back in his room inside the windmill, Kurt is sitting on the edge of his bed, and looks in front of him. On his bedside table stands a cage, and a canary is resting inside of it.

"Life's really complicated, isn't it, Pavarotti?" he asks, softly, as if the small bird could understand his words. "You know, sometimes I wish I had wings, just like you, to fly away from the Duke, from Sandy, from money. I could fly away from everything..."

He pauses, as he tastes the thought of freedom on the tip of his tongue. He doesn't need wings to run away; after all, he has enough money to go back to Lima, find a job there, stay with his family.

But that's not what he wants. He has a dream, and that's the only future he can picture himself in. It gives him the strength to go on, to bear the pain and put up with the humiliation; sacrifice makes success sweeter, and Kurt knows that.

But how long will he have to suffer? When will success come?

He turns to Pavarotti again, and sighs. "Besides, you're in my same situation, aren't you? You're blocked in this gilded cage as much as I'm blocked in this pink windmill".

He sighs again, before standing up and attempting to smile, and picks up the cage carefully and delicately, in order not to scare the bird. "I need some fresh air, Pavarotti. Let's go upstairs, shall we?"

Kurt walks outside his room, on the balcony. On the left, a flight of stairs goes round the higher part of the windmill, ending right on the top of the Moulin Rose, with a terrace. There's a white sofa and a wooden table, nothing more and nothing less; sometimes his clients want to go there to drink something, before Kurt does... what he has to do. Usually, though, that's his secret place, where he goes every time he needs to clear his thoughts between rehearsals.

He lays the cage on the table, and walks straight to the edge of the terrace. No handrail is there to hold onto: it's just him and a 33 feet jump. He stares at the lights under him, the cars running on the road, the people passing by, before speaking again.

"It would be so simple, wouldn't it?" he says out loud, apparently talking to no one but the starless sky towering over him. His voice suddenly becomes a whisper.

"One more step forward, and I would fly. Just like you, Pavarotti. I would be...free".

His lips tremble, and he wraps his arms around his waist, as to protect himself from his own words. His mind suddenly runs to David Karofsky, that guy in his high school that used to bully him, and that after being outed and bullied tried to suicide. "I'm not that kind of person, though; I would never do anything like that. I will fight, Pavarotti, just as I always did, and one day I'll fly away, I promise".

As he takes a step back, a song suddenly flashes through his mind; it's a long lost melody that had lived hidden under dusty memories, until now, something that his mother used to sing to him as a lullaby. Before he can even realise it, he is singing the words softly, to himself.

"I follow the night, can't stand the light", he begins, closing his eyes. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost feel his mother's light touch on his cheek. "When will I begin to live again?"

His voice becomes stronger, as he reaches the chorus. "One day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday..."

Yes, he will.

One day he'll fly away and finally, finally pain will belong to the past alone; every bad memory will be locked in a dark corner of his mind and he will never have to think about it again. One day he will triumph, he will be happy, he will be free.

One day.

"What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?" he sings. His mind suddenly goes to the writer - what was his name again? Kurt isn't sure the guy has even told him. The writer's voice starts playing together with his own in an imaginary duet in Kurt's head, as he feels the taste of his skin on his lips, remembers the sparkle in his eyes as he sung for him...

"Why live life from dream to dream, and dread the day when dreaming ends?"

He fills these words with all the power, all the strength, all the desperation he is capable of, because he knows that right now happiness is nothing more than an illusion, for him. He jumps from dream to dream, just as the song says, closing his eyes and shutting his own self when bad times come. What else could he do, anyway, to survive?

"One day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday. Why love life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?".

He opens his eyes again, staring right into the starless night, as he ends the song. "One day I'll fly away. Fly, fly away".

"That was amazing"

Kurt gasps in fear, twirling round. "Who's there?" he asks out loud, and stares in the darkness to find out who has just spoken, instinctively tensing his muscles.

"It's me! Blaine!" the same voice exclaims, and a figure comes out of the shadow. Kurt's eyes open wide as he realises that standing there in front of him, looking at him with a friendly smile, is the writer. Oh, so his name's Blaine.

His heart starts thumping furiously inside his chest, as the man moves closer staring at him right in the eyes, and his head spins. Blaine - his name sounds like music to Kurt's ears - came just for him, just for Kurt. Does he want to confess him his love properly? Will they share a beautiful, delicate kiss? Singing a romantic duet would be wonderful, too. Words start crowding in his mind and get stuck in his throat as he decides what to say first.

"How did you get here?"

God, Kurt.

Be more pathetic, I dare you.

Blaine shrugs. "Rachel told me about the fire escape that ends on your balcony. That's how they appeared in your room before, they were- spying on us, actually. The whole time".

Kurt blushes immediately, because he knows what that means. They have seen him as he- oh Gaga, what are they going to think now?

"Actually, about that..." Blaine starts, avoiding his eyes and curving his lips in an embarrassed smile.

Kurt doesn't like the way he said that simple sentence.

He doesn't like it at all.

And why does he look so ashamed?

"It's hard to say this", Blaine goes on, "but... I would like to be your friend. Perhaps it's because you're Rachel's friend, but I have the feeling I really, really care about you, Kurt, and I don't want to screw up what could be a beautiful frie-

No.

No, no, no.

Kurt doesn't want to hear this.

He doesn't want to hear any of this.

He turns his gaze away because tears start dwelling in his eyes, as realisation hits is mind abruptly.

He made it up in his mind.

Everything.

He should've expected it; it seems that after all, he doesn't deserve a chance to be happy.

He can't even feel desperate about it, right now, or angry or even sad.

Actually, he doesn't feel anything at all.

He has been disappointed so many times by his fucking life, that he can't help feeling simply numb.

It's just another dream that shatters into a thousand pieces, after all.

It's not like he isn't used to it.

Blaine stumbles in his own words, as he tries to explain to Kurt that he doesn't want to be his boyfriend, because they don't even know each other; it's extremely hard, though, because he is terribly afraid of hurting Kurt's feelings, and it's the last thing he wants to do; so when Kurt turns his look away from him, he is terrified that he'll start crying.

But Blaine finds out that his empty eyes are much more scary than a flood of tears.

"I'm afraid there was a terrible misunderstanding, Blaine", Kurt says. His voice is flat, emotionless, and sends an icy shiver down Blaine's back. His eyes, those precious gems that before were shining in colour, are now nothing more than opaque glass. Why is Kurt suddenly so distant? "What happened before - It wasn't meant to happen with you. I mistook you for the Duke, and I am extremely sorry about that", the other man goes on, "so please forget everything".

Blaine stares at Kurt, as his mind slowly processes this information.

Kurt isn't in love with him.

An icy-cold feeling spreads from his chest to his whole body, leaving him forceless, almost exhausted. He should feel relieved, shouldn't he?

Then why does it hurt?

"What's your relationship with the Duke, then?" he asks, abruptly. "I-I mean, you did those things to him and you didn't even know what he looks like, considering that you thought it was me", he babbles immediately, realising that he has just literally snapped at the man, with that question.

Kurt leans his head to the left a little, confusion clearly filling his eyes. "You don't know?" he asks, sincerely puzzled.

Blaine blinks rapidly. "What should I know?"

Kurt's eyes open wide in surprise. Blaine doesn't know a thing about his job, about the Duke, not even about the Moulin Rose, apparently.

Blaine doesn't know anything.

Relief fills his heart, and he feels so light, and it's so sudden, that he can't help it. He bursts into laughter in front of Blaine's completely lost eyes, and the more the other man looks confused, the harder he laughs, and he just can't stop.

"I'm so sorry, it's just that- you don't know a single thing about what's going on here!" he manages to say in the end, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.

"I figured that out, and it's not really nice, you know"

"It's wonderful!"

"You have a weird sense of what's wonderful, Kurt", Blaine snorts, crossing his arms.

Kurt can do nothing about it. He knows he's really pissing off the man right now, because he's being extremely rude, but it's so amazing to meet someone who doesn't know anything about his reputation, whose prejudice doesn't block him from being - or push him to be - his friend. Actually, everything makes more sense now - that's why he talked about his job so plainly before, that's why he was so confused by what was happening around him. Blaine considers him just a performer - how long has it been, since someone has thought of him just that way?

"Alright, alright, I will explain everything to you", Kurt smiles, and sits on the sofa, gesturing to Blaine to do the same.

"What do you know about the Moulin Rose?" he asks.

"Well", Blaine pauses, thinking about it, "I know that it's a nightclub, I know that it's outrageously pink" Blaine smiles, enjoying the small chuckle that has just come out from Kurt's lips "and... I know that it has an awful reputation". His voice lowers suddenly as he says this, and he feels the urge to reassure the man, because he doesn't want to offend him as he did with the girls before. "But Mercedes has told me that it's absolutely not like that, and this isn't a bordello or anything".

Blaine notices the sigh of relief that comes out of Kurt's lips, but doesn't say anything about it. "That's pretty much everything I know" he ends.

Kurt crosses his legs, and taps his lower lip with an index, deciding what to say first. There's so much to say about the Moulin Rose, so much about it's history and so much about himself...

"Well, the Moulin Rose is, as you said, a nightclub, but it has a characteristic that makes it different from every other club. Do you know where the bad reputation comes from?" he begins, and waits for Blaine to shake his head before he goes on. "It's because every dancer here is an entertainer, too".

"Entertainer?"
"Yes. It means people come here, pay, and they get to spend the evening with one of the performers, dancing, drinking, some people even want the entertainers to dedicate the songs they sing to them. They don't do anything more, it's just... having fun together. There are a lot of lonely people out there, Blaine, more than what you can think of. We give company to those who usually don't have company; it's sad, but it saves people, you know".

"Isn't it a bit like selling yourself, though?" Blaine asks, but he looks so sincerely curious, that Kurt refuses to find any malice in his words.

"No, it's not. You don't sell yourself, you sell your time, and time, Blaine, unlike people, does have a price".

Blaine nods. After all, it does make sense, and there's nothing wrong about it. It's sad, just as Kurt said, but it's better spending a happy evening with someone under payment rather than getting drunk or going on drugs or something even worse because you feel alone.

"What else?" Kurt goes on, "The more you are requested, the more people have to pay to be with you. Quite easy and quite obvious".

"And how much do people have to pay to be with you?" Blaine grins, leaning slightly towards him and staring at him right in the eyes.

Uh-oh.
And there it goes, the malice.

Kurt's heart starts pounding at an exaggerated pace as he gets lost in Blaine's eyes. He really hopes he didn't flush, because he feels a sudden heat in his whole body and he can't pretend he doesn't know where it comes from, but there's no way he'll show Blaine, and it's for this reason that he keeps his eyes fixed in the man's, and curves his lips in the tiniest of smiles.

"Let's say that I'm the most expensive among all of them", he whispers.

Oh, God, they started flirting.

Kurt would punch himself in the face if it didn't ruin his perfect skin, because Blaine has just pretty clearly told him that he doesn't like him in that way, and now they are flirting, outrageously flirting, and this isn't okay.

It's definitely not okay.

Thankfully, Blaine breaks the moment, turning his grin into a teasing smirk and tapping his shoulder slightly. "So you do have a price".

"I don't have a price, my time has a price, I believe I already explained that to you", Kurt snaps, but he can't help smiling.

It's so nice, being able to joke about what he does with someone, even though he doesn't know the whole truth. His friends - the ones who know - never even mention his job, because they're afraid of hurting him, of saying something wrong. He doesn't blame them, of course, how could he? But he can't help finding frustrating the tensed atmosphere that forms every time he gets in a room; the pity in everyone's eyes. It's just like a handicap - no one ever realises that what he wants is just to be treated like everyone else.

"What about the Duke, though?" Blaine asks at some point. Kurt shrugs, as he answers.

"Just one of the clients", he answers vaguely, with nonchalance.

"You seemed quite... intimate with him, for him just to be a client", Blaine points out.

Kurt sighs, closing his eyes for an instant. "Alright, he is a very special client. As you surely have understood, he will finance our show, and the only way to convince him... was that way", he admits, in the end, turning his eyes away. Blaine doesn't say anything, and Kurt realises that he probably thinks horrible things about him now. How couldn't he, after all? Kurt practically confessed that he was about to have sex with someone just in order to have him finance something - it's selling oneself.

If only Blaine knew...

When he turns to look back at the man, he finds him staring blankly right in the darkness.

"I don't blame you, if you think I'm cheap", Kurt says in the end, just because he can't take anymore the silence that has created between them. Blaine is judging him; Blaine will think what everyone thinks about him, and he hates it. He hates that his life is nothing more than one disappointment after the other, he hates that he can't make friends with anyone here, in New York, because people think they know him.

It takes a while for Blaine to answer, but when he does, he leaves Kurt utterly speechless.

"What you do, it's none of my business. I don't know you or what goes on in you mind, and most of all I don't know why you take some decisions; I have no right to judge, and neither does anyone. I don't think you're cheap, Kurt".

Suddenly he stands up, and turns at Kurt with the brightest of all smiles, eyes shining like pure gold. "And besides... You're the one who said you're the most expensive among them all", he teases.

Kurt's mouth hangs open, as he stares at Blaine, eyes wide in shock.

I don't think you're cheap, Kurt.

These words keep playing in his head, as tears start dwelling in his eyes. No one had ever said him anything like that, because no one ever talked with him about that.

He feels something rising in his chest, some kind of heat - no, it isn't heat. It's warmth. It's sweet, and rocks him in a soft embrace, and it's so pleasant that Kurt wants it to never end.

"Do you have a pen and something to write on?" Blaine asks suddenly. Kurt gives a tentative nod, but doesn't speak: he's afraid that if he opens his mouth, he'll start crying shamelessly.

"Here's what we'll do: I'll give you my number, and you can call me if you need anything, alright? Everyone needs someone, Kurt", he says, staring at him as if he was piercing his whole heart and soul.

Kurt has to bite his lower lip, because it has started trembling furiously. Fighting back those tears that push on the corner of his eyes is becoming harder and harder; because Blaine understood him, accepted him, lent him a hand, and he doesn't even know him.

Blaine saved him.

In a few seconds, this stranger saved him from drowning in the dark depths of loneliness.

Blaine seems to understand that he's about to cry, and walks towards the staircase, going down a few steps. Knowing that Blaine's eyes aren't on him anymore Kurt lets a few, grateful and shocked tears run down his cheeks, trying his best to swallow down any sob. He'll wait that Blaine's gone to lose it.

He needs to lose it.

He wipes away those few tears and stands up, grabbing Pavarotti's cage with one shaking hand. That's the moment when he sees that Blaine is waiting for him, even though he's looking away; Kurt follows Blaine on the staircase, stopping right behind him, because the man still doesn't move.

"You know what?" Blaine asks suddenly, turning towards him excitedly, "Let's have a fresh start".

"A fresh start?" Kurt manages to ask, even though his voice still trembles a little.

"A fresh start. A fresh start in which I didn't break in your room and you didn't try to do me without even knowing me", he winks.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asks again, because he really can't see where this is going.

That's the moment when Blaine holds out his hand with a smile that could light up the whole New York City.

"My name is Blaine".

Kurt looks at him in confusion. "I know".

The man shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle, and puts his hand down. "No, Kurt, you don't. We have never met each other. Fresh start, remember?"

Kurt needs a few seconds before he understands what the other man means, but when he does, he is so shocked that he doesn't know what to say. He nods instead, and Blaine says, "Let's do this again".

He holds out his hand for the second time, that breath-taking smile never leaving his lips.

"My name is Blaine".

Kurt stares at his hand, almost amazed, before reaching out to shake it.

"Kurt."