XIV.I

Kurt looked at the picture whenever he could. The bright crinkled eyes of the small boy fascinated him. What was his story? The loving parents and the dream of Broadway written neatly on the back told Kurt that this boy was worth knowing—that he'd be even more wonderful than Kurt imagined.

But that was it, wasn't it? Kurt was imagining things. He didn't actually know this boy, but he was enthralled all the same. As the picture lay next to his Asian Literature notes, he sighed and banged his head lightly against the table.

What if he met the boy and he wasn't nearly as wonderful as the kind and caring and talented boy he had made up in his head?

God, Kurt, this is getting ridiculous. Pull yourself together and stop moping. He's nothing but someone you see on the train. He's not your "true love" and he's not some sort of Prince Charming who jumped out of a story book ready to sweep you off your feet and into a world where hardship doesn't exist.

Give. It. Up.

Kurt bit his lip as he walked into the train that morning, part of him wishing Curls wasn't there. He was nervous. Extremely nervous. After a week of watching him and minimal eye contact, he couldn't just walk up to him and give him back the picture.

That would be weird, wouldn't it?

That's why Kurt let out a sigh of relief when the hazel eyed boy was nowhere in sight.

Blaine ran around his room, pushing over books and looking under pillows but to no fruit. It wasn't there. It wasn't there. For good measure, he grabbed the book he was reading by the spine and shook it violently, momentarily disregarding everything he knew about book etiquette. Still, nothing fell out.

That was the only thing he had left from his mother.

Due to mild disagreements between Blaine and his father, he had moved out and decided to make his own living in New York. That day, when everything he owned was loaded onto the plane and all he needed to do was board, he said goodbye to his mother.

She had ran thumb over his cheek and smiled at him. And then she told him she was proud of him.

A week later, that picture came in the mail.

He shifted through the mess on the floor of his apartment one last time.

No luck.

He slumped against the wall and reached for his phone, calling in sick.

XVI.

Kurt needed a break.

Too many words. Too many characters and too much information to process that he felt like it was miracle that he was still standing. He literally dragged his feet out of his classroom that afternoon, his bag slung over his shoulder carelessly. He let out a sigh and turned to his classmate, Robbie, who looked about as sullen as he did.

"Where's the closest bar?"

His face lit up, and instead of giving him a sloppy answer, he went on about some of the best bars in the area. Which ones have the best atmosphere, the best entertainment, the best drinks, and even going through the one with the hottest girls but Kurt waved the last part off.

"There's this one bar I love. It's called "Dead Man Walking". It's got this giant neon sign outside of it. You can get to it using the subway. Only a couple stations down." He said, enthusiastically, and Kurt was relieved that he finally decided on which bar he was going to send him to.

"And there's this guy who performs there every night—I think you'd appreciate him. He's got a pretty good voice, and guitar skills too." He winked, and it took all of Kurt's strength not to smack him. Robbie was one he sat next to during a lot of his classes, mainly because he took the best notes and it was always handy to be friends with someone like that. Kurt didn't think this guy knew him enough to tease him.

"And what makes you think I'd appreciate him?" He raised an eyebrow and Robbie shrugged.

"You sing under your breath sometimes when you're bored in class. He sings some of the stuff you do." He smiled, and then gave him the address of the bar and went on his way.

Kurt held the scrap of paper in his hand as he boarded the train.

"Dead Man Walking"

Sounded cheery enough. Hopefully it'll live up to Robbie's hype.

XVI.I

Blaine wiped the sweat off his forehead with a clean rag. The huge group of people he had been serving for over two hours was finally leaving, and the sound of their shoes against the wooden floor sounded strangely like a chorus of angels to Blaine's ears.

Lucas leaned over the bar, smiling at Blaine's tired expression.

"They were a hassle, weren't they?" He said, nudging Blaine's shoulder and the curly haired boy snorted.

"Understatement of the century." He dropped his cheek on top of the bar and closed his eyes. All he wanted to do now was go home and take a nap, but that wouldn't do. He had to perform in an hour. An hour to rest.

Lucas chuckled and then patted Blaine's back. "I'd offer you a drink, my friend, but I doubt the audience would appreciate your drunken singing."

Blaine raised his head and smirked, "I'd still sound awesome."

The blonde laughed and flicked a towel in his direction, "Don't I know it. Now go resume your snoring in the back room. The last thing we want is your heavenly voice scaring off potential customers."

The bell jingled as Kurt stepped inside, the scrap of paper safely stuffed into his coat pocket. The restaurant was quiet, with only the sound of idle chatter coming from the tables filling the air.

The bar was empty, and a tall, stocky blonde bartender was playing a cherry, tossing it up in the air and the catching it. Kurt sat on a stool a couple feet away from the blonde, taking in the atmosphere of the place.

Yes, it was quaint, and the right kind of dark for him. Perfect.

The blonde's eyes sparkled when they made eye contact, and he wasted no time moving towards of Kurt and showing interest.

"Well, hello, sunshine. What brings you here?" He said, putting his elbow down onto the counter and smiling at Kurt. His teeth were white and straight.

"Oh, um, nothing." He said hastily, "My friend recommended this place to me, and my utter lack of knowledge in that area of expertise made me trust his better judgement."

The blonde chuckled, "Never been to a bar before, huh? I took it you looked young." Kurt's jaw dropped an inch, but he closed it immediately.

It was true, though. Kurt had been to one gay bar in Ohio, and that was once. After an incident involving a really forward teenage boy in his junior year, he never wanted to set foot in that place ever again, so he resigned to drinking at various homes with his fellow Glee Clubbers.

"So, are we going to continue this pleasant chat all night or are you going to order a drink?" He said, moving his hands back to the empty silver tumbler behind the bar.

Kurt swallowed, and then looked over the variety of bottles around. He wasn't particularly experienced in the world of alcohol, and he had always drank beer before. Beer was the only thing he trusted when it came to parties, but it was bitter and not at all pleasant. The blonde eyed him expectantly. He sighed.

"Just give me something non-alcoholic, for now. I plan on going home to my own apartment tonight." The blonde nodded and set to work, pouring something that looked like orange juice into the silver tumbler.

"So, does that pretty face have a name?" The blonde asked, not taking his eyes off his work. Kurt instinctively looked over his shoulder, and business was slow that night. Well, it wasWednesday. Kurt himself had no idea why he was out and about in the middle of the week.

"Kurt." He said, finally, and the blonde smiled at him.

"Nice to meet you, Kurt." He pushed the orange drink towards him, the glass sliding smoothly against the wooden counter. On reflex, he caught it with an open hand.

"Name's Lucas." He offered his hand to shake, and Kurt took it with his free one. "And by the way, that's a Shirley Temple. Non-alcoholic." He noticed Kurt eying the liquid and then added, "Don't worry doll, I didn't drug it or anything. Scout's honour." He let go of Kurt's hand and crossed his heart with his index finger.

Kurt smiled at him and then took a sip of his drink. Hey, it wasn't that bad. He drank some more, and Lucas smiled in triumph.

"So, what made you want to go to a bar in the middle of the week, at five pm? Must've been some day," He said, apparently having no other form of entertainment besides talking to Kurt. The bar was empty. The only other people in there were a handful of people who were there for early dinner.

Kurt rolled his eyes at the assumption, "I just needed to get my mind off of…um…things."

"Nasty break up, then?" He started wiping a perfectly clean beer glass with a white rag. What is it with bartenders and cleaning clean glasses?

"No." Kurt said, a bit too quickly for Lucas to drop the subject.

"What'd she do? Cheat on you? Stop returning your calls? Wear hot pink with red?" Kurt wrinkled his nose at the last one.

"I'm gay."

Lucas' eyes widened a bit and then he let out a low whistle. "Sorry for assumin' then."

Right as Kurt was about reply, the sound of acoustic guitar strings filled the restaurant. He turned his head to look at the stage and—holy shit.

It was him.

Curls.

He was there, with a light brown acoustic guitar and at the stage with a microphone and Kurt's heart leapt from his chest and probably landed somewhere on Jupiter. There was a bright white spotlight pointed at him, and it looked his there was light layer of sweat there and it made Kurt lick his lips.

He broke his eyes away before Lucas noticed.

Unfortunately, the blonde was a lot sharper than Kurt gave him credit for.

"He's gay too, if you wanted to know." Lucas was smirking, and Kurt could almost feel every blood vessel in his body rush to his cheeks.

"What made you think I wanted to know?" He's gay. He's gay. He's gay.

"I've been on the receiving end of that kind of stare more often than you can imagine. I know attraction when I see it," He winked, and Kurt held his chin up and stayed silent.

An elderly man plopped himself down at the very end of the bar, and Lucas smiled at Kurt one last time before going to attend to him. Kurt thanked the universe and returned to sipping his drink.

Curls smiled as he stepped up to the microphone—the corners of his eyes crinkling and his teeth oh so pearly white. Kurt held his breath as he waited for him to speak, his fingers curling around the glass like an anchor.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." He started, smiling at the small crowd that was scattered around the room, "My name is Blaine Anderson, and I'll be your entertainment for this evening."

Blaine Anderson.

So that's his name.

Kurt's heart sped up the slightest bit as he watched the boy played a few random chords, strumming the guitar every so often to get a feel of it. His hands were big and mesmerizing, and Kurt couldn't help but trail his eyes up and down the boy's body because he looked so different from when he was on the train.

He had a plain black tee on, and it hugged his arms in the most amazing way imaginable. The veins on his forearms were clearly visible and the sole spotlight that shone on his made his skin looked like it shone.

Kurt swallowed the pool of saliva that had been collecting in his mouth.

"Piece of work, isn't he?"

The Shirley Temple almost toppled over, but Kurt composed himself quickly enough. He tore his eyes away from the boy, and glared at Lucas.

"It's okay, doll. It ain't illegal to find another man attractive," He grinned, swiping a rag over the small spill Kurt's drink made, "And since you're gay, it's probably encouraged."

Kurt was about to say something when the speakers boomed with the opening chords of a song.

Lucas looked at how Kurt's eyes once again glued themselves to that boy—to Blaine—and then smirked.

"I'll leave you two alone, then." And once again made his way down the bar where the elderly man sat. Kurt just kept…staring. It was probably unhealthy, and didn't help his case with Lucas. In the back of his mind, he knew the boy would relay the story of his admiration (or even call it lust) for Blaine, (Blaine. His name was Blaine.) to Blaine, and Kurt would never be able to live it down. Especially if Blaine caught a glimpse of him and then saw him on the train.

A deep, sweet, glorious baritone filled his ears as he thought. Wait, singing.

Blaine was singing.

Holy crap, his voice was gorgeous.

It was sweet, and a little rough around the edges as he mouth formed the lyrics and his fingers pressed the strings. His strumming was strong, each stroke powerful, and it looked like he could break the thing at any moment.

Kurt couldn't concentrate on the words, and instead just stared and let the music wash over him. Blaine smiled at every other word, his teeth shining white under the spotlight and his arms flexing. Kurt stopped breathing somewhere in the middle of the song.

"Might want to wipe the drool dribbling down your chin. I ain't mopping that shit up." Lucas interjected, shocking Kurt out of his thoughts and back to the bar. His hand flew straight to his mouth, but there wasn't any drool. Thankfully.

"If you want me to, I can introduce you guys. He's got a short break after a couple of songs." He offered, his eyes trailing to Blaine who was still signing passionately to a song Kurt didn't recognize, "And then you can drool at him up close! Pretty fantastic, eh?"

"I—uh, you don't have to." Kurt sputtered, and he could feel his drink bubbling in his stomach. Or was that just butterflies? Thank god he didn't get anything alcoholic, or he might've done something stupid. Like ask to meet him.

"I think it'd do you both good." Lucas said, suddenly solemn. Kurt looked at him and raised an eyebrow in question. The blonde shrugged, and he knew he wouldn't get an explanation out of him even if he tried.

Blaine laughed silently as he began singing another song, but his eyes wandered through the audience. The spotlight probably did a good job of hiding Kurt's face, but if Curls really tried, he'd be able to recognize him.

That's when Lucas started waving his arms.

Kurt's heart rate sped up from one to a million in a second, and he felt the sudden urge to just rush out, glass still in his hand and leave Lucas and the music and Blaine behind.

But he didn't. He was rooted to the spot, and Curls' eyes locked with his.

Honey hazel on blue.

Blaine's mouth dropped open an inch and his fingers fumbled on one chord. Kurt could feel Lucas smirking at them both even without looking at him.

Curls, however, regained his composure quick enough to start singing the opening lyrics to the song. Kurt took deep calming breaths to slow down his heartbeat. They didn't work.

"I'm sorry, I—I think I have to go somewhere." He downed the rest of his drink in one go and then stood up. Lucas' eyes widened, as if in panic, and then he reached a softly put his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Was it something I said? If so, I'm sorry, I was just teasi—"

Kurt brushed his hand off and ran to the door, his cheeks flaring.

Blaine finished his set and rushed down to the bar, towards Lucas, who was cleaning a glass for about the fifth time.

"Hey, Luc, who was that—"

"That gorgeous piece of ass you were practically eye fucked in the middle of your set? Yeah, his name was Kurt." He didn't even look up, as if the glass was five hundred times more interesting than the boy talking to him.

Kurt. His name was Kurt.

"Why did he—" Lucas cut him off again, "He left after you guys saw each other." He knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, finally looking up at his friend, "Dunno what his problem was. Probably had a boner for you."

Blaine blushed at that, "Did he, um, say anythi—"

"About you? Well, anyone with a brain could tell he thought you were hot, but that's about it." Lucas smirked as the smaller boy blushed even more furiously.

Paper Bo—Kurt was there. He thought he was hot.

And they had undoubtedly seen each other.