How could I even try to describe this look? The only thing I know is that the slightly scared and apprehensive look that he wore the minute I walked in the room transformed into something else altogether. Pure horror would be the most accurate, but as he looked at me and the world seemed to stop for a moment, I noticed a million different things at once. A million different emotions came and went upon his face: surprise, fear, shame, anger, fear again, and finally horror.

He looked at me for a single second and it was as if a lifetime had passed. I was frozen myself. I couldn't figure out how to move anymore, how to speak, how to react, how to feel. For that single second, I might have been persuaded that for the life of me, I wouldn't be able to do anything anymore but to look at those familiar hazel eyes.

That look shouldn't have been familiar. It shouldn't have but it was. I had seen it before, 12 years ago on a bright morning of winter. That day changed everything.

This time there was something else in there, something more. On the day when I saw that same pure horror face for the first time, the body hadn't been broken yet, the soul was still intact. Sure, it had been traumatized a bit but not like that, not like then. That look was intensified, multiplied by thousands because it only reflected a current state of mind, a constant fear, a constant horror, and despair of life for someone who didn't expect anything from life. Who couldn't feel the despair and wasn't touched by its miseries? How was it possible to react? How could I react?

How could I respond when Blaine, the only Blaine I knew that way, was feeling sentiments that I had buried so deeply that I didn't know what they looked like or what they felt like anymore? For once in my life, I felt hopeless, as hopeless as Blaine did, probably.

"Blaine…" That's what I said. I said it because I had nothing else to say, because that second of facing each other was like an eternity in hell. An eternity to look back at the mistakes of our pasts that brought regrets, regrets that eat us alive, a pit of fire.

I shouldn't have talked. I shouldn't have said anything, but as most things in life, you realize your mistake once it's over. What could have come from that conversation? "Hey, Blaine. Oh, I see you've been beaten like a poor animal. Besides that, how's life? Long time, no see!"

It's funny how much it's not funny, but what else could I have done? Hug him? He wouldn't have let me and besides I couldn't do that. I wasn't ready and neither was he.

So what do you say, what do you do when the only man you ever loved, the last man you've ever loved came into your office unexpectedly one day, covered in bruises, and broken to the last piece?

I had no answer to that.

He did. Apparently, in the time it took me to figure out how helpless I was, how irrelevant I might be, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. He had decided to flee.

Maybe he hasn't decided anything. When these things happen, an instinct of self-preservation takes over and you get a sudden urge to run away and never look back.

You want to run away from your past, from all you want to forget and put behind you, but the past always catches up with you.

The moment he heard his name, the moment I opened my mouth, Blaine seemed to realize what a mess he had gotten himself into. The whole exchange of looks and single word must have lasted a little more than 10 seconds, but in our minds, a whole silent conversation was happening, a billion thoughts per second, and the last one that must have crossed Blaine's mind was to run.

At the sound of his name, he literally jumped on his feet, like if me calling him was surprising, like a shock through his system. It was something he would never have expected and something he definitely didn't want.

Before I could react to that, before I could understand his expression (let's face it, I understood perfectly), he was gone. He was running out of the conference room, as fast as he could possibly manage, as if the devil was chasing him. The devil being his past.

At that moment, I understood it all.

In one single second, I knew. I knew that if he was there today in that state, it was because of all that happened all those years ago. I was the reminder of it, of his life, of his misery, of everything.

The second the thought crossed my mind, I was chasing him. I ran after him, as you run after something you lost, and want to have back by all means, after a lost dream.

Run, baby, run, but it will always run faster than you will. It will not wanted to be reached, not wanted to be approached. The past is gone and we should let it go.

I didn't want to.

I wasn't going to.

So, I ran after it.

I ran.

"What the fuck happened, Kurt? I just saw Mr. Anderson run away like a mad man from the office. What the fuck did you do to him?" Ian was standing in the middle of the hallway, a dumbfounded expression on his face. He looked somewhat angry. I couldn't blame him since he probably just witnessed Blaine running away from the office and in the same time, the whole object of his report. He would make me pay for that I'm sure, but right now, I really didn't give a fuck.

"I'm coming back!" I shouted back to him, running out of the office on Blaine's trail. I didn't stop for his answer or approval but I didn't need it right now. The only thing I needed was to catch up to Blaine and talk to him, not that I had any idea what to say or do.

"You better!" I heard Ian shout back just as I was opening the door to the emergency staircase. I knew that Blaine had taken the elevator and would be probably already on the first floor, but I had no time to waste to wait for the next elevator. If it meant running down fifteen floors of stairs, then so be it.

I wasn't really into sports in high school, except for a very short experience as kicker in the football team. I had a pretty good resistance to effort due to all the singing and dancing, but not right now. I hadn't done anything physical in a long time (albeit the long sex sessions now and then) and cursed myself for it. I was desperately trying to fly down the stairs more than humanely possible but those damn $500 Prada shoes were so slippery that I had to hold back a little so I wouldn't break my neck. I've never thought I would see the day when I would rather have worn sneakers or other sport shoes, but today, right now, fashion didn't matter. My looks didn't matter. The sweat pouring from my arms and forehead didn't matter. It just reflected my desperation to catch Blaine.

After what seemed an eternity, I finally emerged in the hall of the building. I opened the door and ran across the hallway, people staring after me as if I was crazy or something. Well, everyone but the doorman, who just opened the door at my arrival and pointed at some direction in his right. He knew. Of course he knew. The doorman knew everything. After all, he opened the door to our dreams and closed it after our failures.

I didn't question him. I didn't thank him; there was no need and no time. The door only stays open for a while. You must pass through it when you still have time. Apparently, I still had time. Nothing was lost or he wouldn't have opened it. I took it as a sign and went through it.

Once I was in the street, after running like crazy for some time, I came across a crossroad. I stopped.

I was at a crossroad. Right or left? Right or wrong? Which path should I choose? Which way of life should I follow? Every second waiting and wondering is one more second when your life flies away, gets out of reach one second at the time, another step toward the unreachable, another step toward a new loss.

All I had to do was to make a choice, right or left. I had no clue, no indication to help me make it. I was all alone in this, all alone in life, and never before had I regretted it so much. I had no one to rely on, no one I could confide in or could help me make decisions. I had no one and I was lost, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk as people walked next to me, through me as if I didn't exist and didn't matter. They say you only exist as much as people need you. It's how you know that you are, to be or not to be. But me, nobody needed me. I needed nobody or so I thought. So why should they notice me? Why should they bother when I didn't even exist?

But I needed help. I needed advice. I needed to be acknowledged so I could return the favor to Blaine and help him too. I could finally exist in someone's eyes other than my own. I could change my subjective vision of myself into an objective one.

That's all we really want, to be reassured of our value in this earth, and I wasn't better than the rest of them.

I reached for the unknown and asked for help.

"Did you see a man running like crazy toward this way? Short, brown hair, hazel eyes, and heavily injured?" I kept asking desperately to anyone who would hear me, which was not many.

The rest had their own lives, their own problems to deal with, and their own crossroads to figure out. No one was willing to help a nobody. Well, it was my own damn fault because I never became a somebody. Somebodies are accounted for. Well, count me out.

Besides, what kind of description did I give? How many people could fit that one? We were in New York, for God's sake. It's the land of the crazy and the earth of the estranged. All vices and all dysfunctional characters lived on this island. Why would one single person, victim of those abuses, stand out? Why would one running man get noticed?

I was just about to lose hope when the unexpected happened. Someone actually stopped and answered me.

"Very short guy, like a hobbit, running like the devil was chasing him despite a clearly bad limp?" A middle-aged woman asked me suddenly, stopping her wild course of life to stare at me and count me in.

I was so shocked that it took me a second to actually understand what she meant. She didn't cringe or look at me weirdly. She just waited for my answer, which came in the form of a nod. I was too lost for words right now.

"He went this way. I think he stopped to take his breath in an alley about 300 feet away or so. If you run, you might catch him." She said slowly, pointing into her right. I hoped she was right.

"Thank you." I whispered back. She just continued on her way, leaving me standing still stunned in the middle of the street. She quickly disappeared among the strangers.

I looked at her until she faded from view and started to run again. I still couldn't believe it. She didn't ask me if I had good intentions toward him, if I was chasing him in order to beat him some more. All she knew after all was that the guy was running away from something. Most people would have guessed from me. Didn't she care what I might do to him?

Strangely enough, I knew that it wasn't it at all. Instead, she just took a leap of faith and figured that I was trying to help him, to get him back on the right track. Was it something about my face, the way I looked, the way I dressed, that told her that I wasn't a criminal? We knew, everyone knew, that the clothing doesn't make the man. Nowadays, it doesn't mean anything. We know race isn't a factor to determine violence or misbehavior. So what told her?

I had no idea whatsoever but I would be forever grateful as I approached the alley and noticed that Blaine was actually there. I would be grateful to the person who stopped for a second on her run to help me find my own, to all those people who came along our way and just help us selflessly, with no intention behind their actions. It's rare and valuable. There is no way to ever thank them as they disappear from your life before you even grasp what they have given you.

I did. I was given Blaine. Here he was, leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath and not really succeeding to say the least. I didn't know how to approach him and make him listen to me without him running away again. There was no easy approach, nothing I could think of at the moment, so I just walked slowly toward him and for the second time in just a few minutes, I called him.

"Blaine…" Again the shock, the surprise, the horror was on his face. He tried to stand up and possibly run away again, but he was out of force, out of breath, his body was failing him. He collapsed against the wall, but in a quick movement that even surprised me, like I was expecting him, I reached out to him and slowed his fall. I took him in my arms gently and seated him on the concrete as if I always did it, as if I knew his needs before he even told me and before he even knew them himself. It was as if we were back in time, just like we used to take care of each other.

Blaine let himself rest in my arms just like he used to, but when he was safely seated on the ground, he didn't raise his head. He was refusing to look at me and let me see what was going on in his mind, what was eating him. I wouldn't have it. I needed to see. I needed to know. I gently took his face into my hands and tried to raise his head. Tried, because with a force that surprised both of us, he violently shook his head away, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Blaine, please look at me. Please, Blaine." I think I begged but it didn't matter at the moment. I was willing to try anything to reach out to him but it was like talking to a wall.

"Blaine… do you… will you…" I had no idea what to say so I kept talking nonsense. I was just hoping that he would get annoyed and react at some point. I was good at that. I was good at annoying people and pushing them to their limits until they broke. I was ashamed to do that to Blaine, but at this point, it didn't matter anymore what resources I might use if it would make him talk to me and it did.

"WHAT? What do you possibly want, Kurt?" He had suddenly turned to face me, right in the eyes, a firing expression in his own and just like that I was silenced to death.

His eyes, oh god, his eyes! If believed in god, if I believed in anything, I would pray that such expression, such hurt would never exist, would never reappear again on such a beautiful face. I don't know what he was feeling because in my life I've never experienced such pain, such sorrow. Nothing that people did to me or what he did to me back then could come close to it. Every feature of his face was twisted in pain, making his battle scars even more visible. That wasn't what struck me, though. It was his eyes. They weren't hazel anymore. They were black, lust black. Except that it wasn't lust, it was anything but that. There was no word strong enough in our modern language to describe the despair. They were fire and dust. Pain and abandon. Rage and shame. Fight and loss. They were just like his ice-cold voice, colder than I could ever be if I tried and sharper than any knife.

"What do you want Kurt?" He repeated because I was now speechless, unable to form sentences. It wouldn't have helped anyway. I realized now that there was nothing I could say, nothing I could physically do to make it go away or make it ok. It was not ok. It hadn't been for a long time.

"I don't need your pity, Kurt, if it's what you're offering! I don't need your help! I'm fine by myself! I do fine! Take your charity because you're not welcome in my life!" Another stab deep in my heart and another look that left me numb to my core.

"Besides, you don't really mean it, Kurt! How could you? You hate me! You despise me!"

"I don't…" I really tried to interject but he wouldn't have it.

"Yes, you do! Don't lie to me! You're right. I'm no good. I'm not worth anything and you know it. You know what I did to you. How can you even look at me after HIM? Don't bother with me, Kurt. You're better off."

Suddenly, before I could react, he was already on his feet and in one swift and surprisingly agile movement, he was out of reach and out of sight. Again.

Once again, he was gone. He flew away from me, but now, at least I knew why and he had gotten it all wrong.

He thought that I still despised him, that what happened so many years ago still mattered in my mind. Of course, it did, but I had found the way to separate the good from the bad, the important from the random mistakes. Who was I fooling? Not Blaine certainly. He knew and I had to know that it wasn't random mistakes. It had been more than that, more than just a slight misunderstanding along the way. It had been plain betrayal. I recognize that.

Only somehow, I think I let it go. He didn't. He still thought apparently that everything that was happening to him, was because of, well, HIM. He didn't need to say his name. We both knew. We both wouldn't forget, but I did forgive. Oh yeah, I might never forget but I had forgiven a long time ago. He didn't know. He still blamed himself. He was still living the past while I was very well attached to the future.

I had to let him know. I had to tell him that no hate, no anger should remain. That he shouldn't keep having regrets over one single, and let's admit it, very common mistake. For him, it wasn't common. It wasn't random. It was that one mistake he would drag all his life and would regret forever. His life, past, present, and future, would be based on it and would suffer the consequences of it.

It shouldn't, not when it wasn't the case, not when the victim didn't hold grudges.

I had to let him know, make him understand, and set him free. How?

Leaning against the wall in a small alley of New York City, blind to everything that surrounded me, immune to the passing time, I had only one thought in my mind.

"What now?"

Ian's POV:

Since Kurt had flown by him, chasing after that poor man who had run out of the building, Ian hadn't stopped pacing the floor. Sure, he was mad for losing one of the principal subjects and testifier of the article, but he was mostly worried. Not for the guy, but for Kurt. That man never lost his cool temper, his perfect image. He was well-known jerk and asshole, but he still did it with class, not a hair out of place. If he was bitching, he still thought about every one of his words. Every single insult was accounted for. Every step counted. He had an image to protect. He was a Grade A asshole that didn't give a shit.

When Ian saw him running after that Anderson guy, he couldn't believe his eyes. Kurt didn't run after guys, or anyone really. He didn't chase people. People chased him. If anyone would ever get away, it was their loss really. At least Ian had worked enough time with him to know that.

The talented man was running, every sense of dignity vanished. For what? A guy who apparently got scared. It wasn't hard to figure out what scared him. Kurt could be harsh to say the least. But really, after just two minutes? What the hell happened in there that this guy would run away from?

Ian knew that Kurt was harsh but not physically violent. He wouldn't be. He wouldn't compromise his job. He had a sense of responsibilities that Ian had always acknowledged. He was damn talented at what he did, but he wasn't the one to make amends for what he did. No apologies.

Why would he chase after that guy? Normally, he would have just come back to see Ian and said that the guy was too much of a coward to even care about. He would shrug at whatever Ian would threaten him with like firing him or something because he knew perfectly well that Ian couldn't never do that. He brought so much to the magazine. So, he would just smirk and go back to work like nothing happened.

Kurt didn't come back to work, not right away. Ian had to pace for a good half an hour under the curious glances of the employees before something finally happened. Something that left Ian much more flabbergasted than before.

As soon as the elevator doors opened and he saw the silhouette of Kurt approaching, he got ready to jump him. He would demand answers, explanations, anything that he knew Kurt would ever give him, but as Kurt entered the office, all his plans vanished into the air.

He has seen Kurt angry, Kurt stressed, Kurt almost out of mind, but he had never seen the man so sad. He was almost dragging his feet, his head down. Ian noticed, along with probably the whole office, that he was trying to fight tears.

Ian probably wouldn't have found it very unusual if it was someone else. Kurt never cried or even got close to tears. Ian often thought that the man had no soul whatsoever. He would wonder how a man like that could be happy. Well, today he got his answer. He just wasn't.

"Kurt! What just happened? You better explain and fast!" Although he really wanted to play it soft, he knew that Kurt wouldn't have any other way. He better act as if he hadn't noticed Kurt's change, because he was pretty sure that Kurt didn't handle well compassion or pity.

As Kurt looked up, Ian noticed that it didn't matter what he would have said because the man was just off. He was surprised to hear Ian's voice and he was looking around like he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten here.

"Ian, please. I'm not in the mood right now. Can I just take the day off?" Kurt wasn't angry. He didn't use his usual bitchy voice or glance. He just sounded tired.

"I'm sorry, did you just say that you wanted the day off? It sounds to me like you have a fucking article and photo shoot to finish, and you just cost me an article at the same time!"

"Please, Ian. I'm really not in the mood. I'm gonna finish your article tomorrow and you'll find someone else for your damn report!"

"What the hell is going on with you, Hummel? You're acting like you didn't give a fuck about your job right now! I know you don't give fucks about a lot of things but I was positive that you were ready to do anything when it came to business!"

"Of course I am, Ian!"

"Good, because if you walk out now, you should just pack up your things!"

"What? You can't do that!" The thing is that Kurt genuinely looked alarmed. Where the hell went that strong confident man who would shrug everything off? Well, damn Ian, if he didn't figure that out!

"Oh I can, Hummel! I might be friendly to you but I'm still your damn boss! Now you explain to me what the hell all that was about or I'll fire you!" He was now fully committed to get the whole story out of Kurt. Ian realized he was being pushy but he just couldn't help it.

"For just scaring some poor beaten guy away?" He might have said the same thing earlier but now all bitchiness, all irony was out of the way. It was like he even didn't believe it himself.

"No! Well, yeah, but there is more to it, Kurt! We've been working together for almost 7 years and never, never have I seen you so carefree about your job! Plus, you act like you don't give a fuck about…"

"Well, you know that, Ian! That's why you asked me to interview him! You know that I'm just a cold hearted son of a bitch, so don't go complaining to me!"

"Come here!" Ian had decided that they had made enough of a show for everyone so he took Kurt by the arm and dragged him into his office, closing the door behind them. He was sure that whatever would follow, and he would make sure something did, wasn't something that Kurt would want to be heard by all.

Honestly, Ian wasn't even sure of that anymore because Kurt hadn't put up a fight while dragged. He hadn't protested out loud. He just let him do whatever he wanted, had given up fighting. Ian noticed and decided to enjoy the moment to pull out a chair and push Kurt down. He let him. Again.

"What?" Kurt sighed, rubbing his fingers on his temples.

Ian took a chair and put it right in front of Kurt. If something was to happen, if some open heart conversation was going to be, then he would have to be as close to Kurt as possible, not sitting behind his desk, 5 feet away from him. No boss-employee relationship. Equal to equal.

"I want to talk to you."

"And what exactly were you doing before that?"

"Don't play smart with me, Hummel! I'm your boss, remember?"

"No, sorry, I didn't know. Can you repeat it again just for the sake of it?" Kurt bitched back, but again, the heart wasn't into it.

"Why are you so bitchy, Kurt?"

"I thought you knew that already! I thought that was the point of it all!"

"Yeah, but usually it's a tactic of attack. Now you're using it as if you were defending yourself."

"What kind of bullshit is this?"

"Don't think one second you're fooling me! It feels like you're trying to provoke me so I wouldn't see past the bitching, past the anger."

"There is nothing more to it!"

"Normally, I would agree with you but this time is different. There is something in your eyes, something …"

"Since when do you check my eyes Ian? Are they pretty?" Ian wasn't fooled. As soon as he had mentioned his eyes, Kurt had turned his head the other way. Caught.

"See, you're doing it again. Deflecting over and over again"

"Fine. I won't deflect anymore. I have something in my eyes. Dust or a branch or something. Are you happy?"

"A branch?"

"Cultural references of the last decade. Clearly not your stuff. Move on"

"Kurt, would you talk to me?"

"And to say what exactly?"

"I don't know. But Kurt, please bear with me here. Stop playing dumb. We both know that something happened the moment you walked into that conference room and whatever happened then and after clearly affected you. I'm gonna try to be your friend. I'm not gonna threaten you, not gonna tell you that I will fire you or likewise, but please, you've got be indulgent. Talk to me."

"I don't what to say Ian. There is nothing to say. Because nothing happened."

"Look at me Kurt. Look at me. See, you changed. Something changed within you. There is a spark within you that wasn't there an hour ago."

Kurt looked. Ian didn't think he would, but he did. It was obvious he was trying so much to hide the pain, the sadness, the glitch in his eyes that wasn't there an hour ago, that touch of humanity.

Ian smiled because he just couldn't refrain himself. Kurt seemed to understand that he had lost, so he turned his head back and looked at the door instead. When he talked, even his voice had a touch of humanity in it. There were feelings in there.

"A true poet, Ian."

"Shut up. I know what I'm talking about. It's like you actually care about something. Or someone, if I might say that."

"What gives you this ridiculous idea?"

"And you just proved it."

"That's ridiculous. Ian, just drop it. I'll stay and work on that paper. I'll even find you some other poor beaten idiot for your article and even write that damn thing myself if it pleases you."

"See. That's what I'm talking about. You make concessions, you try to please, when your defense mechanisms doesn't work. I've been in this business way longer than you have and I know what it looks like, what it says. And my friend, it says that you have a lot to hide. Something is wrong and you better tell it now."

"Ok. Even if it was true, why would I say anything to you?"

"Because one, you scared the person that was supposed to make the article…"

"I told you I'd find you another one."

"…And two, because you have no one else to talk to."

"Say that's true and that I have in fact no friends, which is totally wrong…"

"Really? Name one who you could call at anytime of the night or day and would deliver your heart out to without fear of judgment or accusation?"

Kurt paused.

"Like I said, no one."

"You might have a point, but that doesn't answer why I should talk to you. Assuming I have something to share, that is."

"Assuming you have something to share, of course, I'd say because I'm your boss and I'm asking you."

"That's lame."

"Or because I'm the only one willing to listen to you."

"That's nice. Well, I'll remember that in the future. You know, in case I have a nervous breakdown at 4am."

"Don't shit with me. You're talking and now. That's it."

"Well, aren't you a nice, loving, not-pushy-at-all friend!"

"Whatever. Now talk."

"Listen, Ian. It's nothing. I'm just really tired."

"It's not that and we both know it. Now, it could be quick, you tell me what's going on, and we can be out of here in no time and you would feel so much better afterwards. Or we could drag this all afternoon. You know I'm good at pissing people off until they break."

"I know, Ian. Oh dear, I know."

"So, what's it gonna be, Hummel?"

That's what internal conflict looked like. Having to choose between two courses to adopt and sadly neither would leave you unbroken. Kurt was seriously considering now. He tried to hide it but as each second passed, Ian knew that he had won. He didn't push Kurt to talk, he just waited. He had won. What was the point now? He knew it like Kurt knew it. Apparently, he just couldn't contain it anymore or it would eat him alive. He wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with those kind of feelings or any kind of feelings really. He needed a new perspective, an objective side, but also someone to deliver all the strange things that were running through his body at the moment. Well if it was Ian, than be it.

"It's Blaine." And just like that, Kurt gave up.

"Who?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson, the guy I was supposed to interview today."

"What about him?"

"I know him."

"You mean, prior to the interview?"

"Yeah. Way prior."

"Oh damn, sorry. I shouldn't have been insensitive. It must have been a shock to see some old acquaintance beaten up like that!"

"Especially… Especially… Do you promise that this conversation won't leave this room?"

"I promise, Kurt. What kind of person do you think I am?" Ian really expected a very witty and bitchy answer from Kurt but it never came.

"Never mind. I'm sorry to doubt you. It's just that Blaine and I have history. A painful one, to say the least."

"What do you mean? Was he a friend or something?"

"Or something. Blaine was my first boyfriend. And my last, to be accurate. The others, like you know, are fuck buddies or so. But him, he was everything but that. Literally. He is the only man I have ever loved."

Kurt eyes were sparkling now, but he didn't seem that sad anymore. He remembered.

"Oh! Wow."

"Yeah, wow, like you said."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't know…"

"How could you? It's not like I talk about him or that part of my past. Actually I've done pretty much everything to forget about it. About him. And all that happened between us."

"How come?"

"You must guess that I haven't always been this kind of self centered selfish cold hearted person right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, until I was 17, I was pretty much the opposite. I was the very sensitive, over loving, over caring, gay kid. Everything touched me. Well I was still a bitch, but not the same kind of bitch. It was just a defense mechanism against people who were mean to me. But apart from that, I was a normal teenager with crushes and heartbreaks."

"And what changed that?" asked Ian, even though he knew the answer already.

"Blaine. Who else?"

"He made you become insensitive? And an asshole? Sorry for… "

"No, you're right. That's who I am. I accept it. And yeah, he's the reason. Well, not so much him as what he did."

"What did he do?"

"Ian, I must warn you. If I start to explain, I have to tell you the whole story. It might take a while and it might be boring. I'm sure you have other things to do and other things that you need me to do."

"Listen Kurt, I think that it is far more important that any work stuff. Besides, I have the feeling you won't be able to concentrate before you get it off your chest. And weirdly enough, neither will I. I want to know you better and I'm a sucker for a good story, apparently."

"I don't know if it's good but I'll try to live up to your expectations."

"Don't try too hard. Just tell me what happened."

"Well, so you can understand, I have to get back to 2 years earlier. When it all started. I was 15. I was the small gay looking kid at the school who every jock harassed. You know, dumpster tossed, slushies' facials, thrown in the lockers, that kind of stuff."

"Oh my god! That's awful!"

"Isn't it? Anyway, I was accustomed to it until something came along and changed my whole life. I became part of the Glee club, and even though we were still the rejects of the school, we were a family."

"That's nice. I didn't know you could sing."

"Oh, I could all right. Still can."

"Would you sing me something?"

"I don't sing anymore."

"Why?"

"I just don't."

"Well, you'll do it for me. Just like you'll talk for me."

"You didn't steal your bossing position, did you?"

"Whatever. Sing me something."

"What?"

"Whatever. I don't care. I just want to hear your voice."

"You're torturing me, you know that? What the hell am I gonna sing?"

He didn't need to be told. Just like from heaven, a voice emerged in the spacious office of Vogue's chief redactor. It was filled with so many emotions, so many memories than you could actually feel them. Kurt started singing, and honestly, Ian had never heard something so beautiful. The song in itself, he didn't care about. He always thought it was an overrated commercial song that didn't stand the test of time. To think of it, it was a strange song for Kurt to sing. He didn't picture the man listening to that, but he had never hear Kurt listen to anything really that wasn't part of his work. He didn't give a fuck at the moment, because it wasn't the lyrics that seemed to mattered but the story behind it.

You think I'm pretty

Without any make-up on

You think I'm funny

When I tell the punch line wrong

I know you get me

So I let my walls come down, down...

Before you met me, I was alright

But things were kinda heavy

You brought me to life

Now every February

You'll be my Valentine, Valentine...

Let's go all the way tonight

No regrets, just love

We can dance until we die

You and I, We'll be young forever

You make me feel like

I'm living a Teenage Dream

The way you turn me on

I can't sleep. Let's run away

And don't ever look back

Don't ever look back

Kurt stopped singing after that, but Ian wasn't going to ask for more. It was like he had given everything and used all his strength just to deliver that bit. It was like he had reconnected with a old friend and tried to make acquaintance again but it was just too hard.

"You have an amazing voice. Really. Why don't you…"

"I just don't… ok?" Ian knew that was something he shouldn't continue to discuss. It was a closed matter and Kurt would not make any more comments about it. He didn't want to push him too far though. He was happy he could open up this much at least. It was almost like he had met a whole different person.

"Why that song, though? I haven't heard that on the radio for at least 10 years. It's not a classic either."

"It's a classic of mine. But let's not jump ahead. There is still a few things I have to tell you before I can explain that."

"Ok, go ahead. I'm sorry, I won't interrupt you further."

"Ok. Well, like I said, I joined the glee club but even though we were like a family, a very dysfunctional incestuous one if I might add, things outside of it weren't so bright for me. When I was 15, I came out to my dad and he was very supportive thankfully. But the other kids in the school were not. I'm gonna play it short and tell you that they made my life an even bigger hell. Especially one kid, a jock, his name was David Karofsky."

"Wait, Karofsky? Like the gay sportsman guy who is one of the spokesmen of the LGBT community in southern states?"

"Yep. Him." Kurt smiled awkwardly at this last confession.

"Wow."

"Yep. He has come a long way from high school. Back then, he was a very afraid closeted gay who had made it his mission to make my life a living hell. Because you know, I was very… flamboyant if you may say and I refused to tone it down for anybody."

"I can understand that."

"So, it got worse and worse and when I tell you that I seriously thought about suicide at some point, I'm not lying."

"That much? I'm sorry, Kurt. I shouldn't have asked you to tell me all that…"

"No, it's ok. You're right. It does feel good to talk about it to someone. I've never said anything to anybody about this time."

"No one? How about those friends from the Glee club?"

"Oh, they knew. Well, not the whole extent of it but they knew it was bad. I do occasionally see them now but we never go back on what happened then."

"Why?"

"Well, that's the story. So I told you that it was bad. Very bad. I was starting to lose hope. I was starting to feel like I didn't belong anywhere, that I would never be loved, never be accepted for who I was, and at that moment, everything changed. I saw the light for the first time in my life."

"How come?"

"Blaine." Kurt answered simply, with that strange light coming back into his eyes. "Right before sectionals, the guys from the glee club told me to go spy on the adversary. The adversary being the Dalton academy for Boys in Westerville, somewhere in the area of Lima. It was an all boy's prep school. I don't know why I did it, why I went to spy on them, but I didn't regret it once. Or did I? "

Kurt stopped talking for a minute, lost in his thoughts at this sudden question. He was obviously struggling at that question of regret but soon enough, his expression changed and a kind of light washed over his face. For the first time in 7 years, Ian saw true happiness in the man's features. It was a glow all over his face that brightened the man from tip to toes. Whatever he was recalling must have been one damn good memory.

"No, I don't regret it." Kurt decided firmly at last. "It was worth it, I guess."

"So you met Blaine at this school?" Ian pushed because honestly he was dying to know the rest of the story.

"Yeah, exactly. He's the first person I talked to when I walked in. I told him that I was a new student although I'm pretty sure he didn't believe me. Nonetheless, he led me to the seniors' rooms where the Warblers, their glee club were having a impromptu performance. I stood there, seeing him sing Teenage Dream a Capella, and I swear it was directed to me. That's the precise moment when I fell in love with him."

"Now I get the choice of the song earlier. It kind of symbolize you guys relationship, right?"

"I guess. He was my teenage dream, but I wasn't for him. Well, not right away at least. Before that we had a lot of bumps along the road. He tried to help me face my bully but when I confronted Dave, he kissed me. That's when I knew that he wouldn't leave me alone, ever, and that he would threaten me indefinitely so I wouldn't tell. So I transferred to Dalton. With Blaine. He had faced the same things at his old school so he knew what I was going through."

"Good. I mean, I'm sorry that you had to transfer but good you had Blaine."

"Yeah. I did. I mean not romantically at first but he was a very good friend. At some point, he finally realized that there was more to us than just friendship. It took a while and some mistakes and embarrassing moments but he got there. He kissed me one day and it's the most content I felt in my life. I had it all, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Well, after that, we lost at regionals against my old glee club, New Directions."

"New Directions? Sounds a lot like…"

"Nude erections, right? Yeah, it was funny that way." Both men chuckled. "Anyhow, things went pretty smoothly between us after that. I eventually transferred back to my old high school because David had made amends and had realized that he had been a huge ass to me."

"Just like that?" asked Ian, genuinely surprised

"Not just like that. It was a whole machination involving prom queen titles but I don't want to get into it at the moment. So I transferred back and at the beginning of my senior year, Blaine transferred with me so we could be together."

"That's adorable."

"Well, yeah, I guess. No, you're right. It was more than adorable. It was an act of pure love. Blaine had saved me in every sense of the way. I felt loved, cherished, taken care of, acknowledged. He was my everything. When I tell you that, I couldn't envision my life without him. I could seen myself with him 10 years from then, in an apartment in New York, married, happy together. I was sure he shared the same dream."

"Wow. That much, huh? And what changed that? What happened?"

"A lot. And not much really when I think about it now. At this time, I was planning on getting into NYADA, a performance art school here in NY."

"I know about it."

"But I had more things to accomplish to get in. So I auditioned for the role of Tony in the school musical. I didn't get it because they though I was too feminine about the role.."

"You? Too feminine?"

"Yeah, I really was back then. I guess it changed a bit."

"You don't say. But I gotta say I'm sorry. It must have been hard to hear that"

"Yeah, especially when Blaine got the part. But it was ok, because he was perfect for it."

"Wow, you really did love him for sacrificing your future like that."

"Well, the way I saw it back then, I didn't sacrificed anything, because he was my future."

Ian paused.

"Yeah, I was so na�ve. Anyway when I didn't get it, I tried for the student council. But I didn't get elected president either."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, let's just say, that month wasn't the brightest for my self esteem. So you must understand how I felt at this point. Pretty down. Pretty insecure. But it was still manageable because Blaine was there to make me feel better. I knew he loved me and that I was "it" for him."

"What changed then?"

"Well, it all happened in one week. The week that changed my life. The apogee was the end of that week, on a very early Sunday morning. That single morning defined the rest of my life. And Blaine's, I guess."

"What happened during the week?"

"Sebastian happened."