His eyes opened expecting the welcoming tones of his bedroom in New York. Instead, he found an off-white ceiling with a glittery hanging light fixture. The shadows in the room were tall, early sunlight bouncing off everything, making the room look surreal in the grey morning light.

Orange. The sunrise was orange.

Or at least it was supposed to be.

Kurt woke up in Lima, Ohio. He let his eyes adjust to the bright light in the room, then he turned over onto his side to face the window, staring at the beams of light fluttering in. There were a few birds chirping, singing their morning tune to wake up the neighborhood. His mind was clouded with sleep, the only thought wondering through his brain was how humid the room had become.

Without moving anything but his eyes and a slight tilt of the head, Kurt checked his old clock. It was roughly six thirty. The needles on the face stared back at him in dark grey.

Red. His father told him the alarm clock was red, the same color as his duvet. The words held no real meaning, Kurt could not fathom what red could have possibly looked like.

There was clinking of pans and silverware from downstairs, his father must have been up since the crack of dawn. Kurt smelled the crisp, fresh aroma of food flowing through the air.

He threw his bed sheet off himself, feeling the hot air stick to him. Kurt sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and on to the cool hardwood floor. He rubbed his eyes to void sleep from creeping in, breathing calmly as he basked in the bright, beautiful morning light.

Standing, he walked to his wardrobe, rifling through it with a sigh. With the help of his father, his closet was set into sections based on color, each section ranging from light to dark. He knew what went well together, at least in theory. He had a rather good eye for design. He knew which were warm colors and which were cool, but he had absolutely no clue as to what they really were.

He sighed, feeling his lungs fill with sweet summer air. He hadnt been to Lima in so long, even after a month, it still felt odd. In a way, it was what he really needed. To relax and be home with his family.

Kurt had been in quite the slump lately. No matter how much he tried, he was unable to get any sort of work done. He had barely passed his first year of university because of it. Not that Kurt was a lazy man, he did what he had to, but his creativity was either fleeting or nonexistent. He felt depressed, to say the least.

He thought a summer away from the city would help, to get away from all the chaos and the distractions, but it was rendering useless. If anything, he felt almost worse being back. Kurt hadnt many good memories of Lima except for his short time in the choir. He tried to hold dear of the good memories and let the rest slip by like water over rapids, but it was hard to forget. All of the feelings he had then were hitting him, it seemed an even smaller town after he had lived in New York. But he only had two or three weeks before he had to be back, he could at least spend some time with his father and step-mom.

Kurt slipped on a white button-up with black pants and a charcoal vest. He tied a black tie around his neck, deeming himself presentable. He didnt bother with trying to match colors, he wasnt going to be doing much anyway.

His father was at the small kitchen table with a plate of eggs and bacon. Kurt grabbed himself a plate from what was left in the skillet, sitting down opposite of Burt. They casually shared plans for the day as they ate.

Burt would be at the tire shop until eight, business was really starting to get good for him. He was a hard worker, Kurt admired that about his father, even if it worried Kurt that he might tire himself out some day. He asked about Carol, his stepmother, and was told she went in early at the Hospital all week and got home at six in the afternoon.

"I think Ill take a walk downtown." Kurt shared. He had been holed up in the house for a while, he knew it would do him good. Walks have always helped him find some sort of inspiration, and the morning felt perfect.

His father mumbled in agreement. He asked Kurt to get a few groceries while he was out. Kurt agreed, nodding his head.

Burt left with a wave, Kurt threw the rest of his breakfast away. He cleaned the dishes in a matter of minutes, taking his time to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. He went back to his room to put a bit of product in his hair, making a nice coif in the front.

He only grabbed his wallet before he left. It was around eight fifteen when he walked out of the door, realizing just how beautiful it felt outside. Kurt shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and took a leisurely walk downtown.

**

By the time he got to the square, he was thoroughly enjoying the calm morning. He usually would have stayed settled between his soft sheets for longer on such a nice day, but he felt relieved to have left the recesses of his house. It was refreshing.

The still, calm feeling in the air let him breathe better, breeze seeming to blow him in the right direction. He decided to go to the old coffee shop on Main Street, it was the best place to relax and just soak in the good vibes. Thats what Kurt truly needed, some good vibes.

The buildings around him seemed to have aged, but they kept their small town charm. There was no way they compared to the beauty of the buildings in New York, but the square did have a different feeling than those in Manhattan. One of quaint, serene welcome.

A lot has changed in the year he was away, and it wasnt all just age. Lights were put up all around to attract costumers, cars were more abundant, technology was evolving faster than a small town in Ohio could keep up with. The place barely felt familiar anymore, everything was new in an evasive way.

He walked straight to the Lima Bean. It was the place he remembered most fondly of all the small businesses in Lima. He would come with friends occasionally, but more often than not he came alone just to think.

Unlike the buildings on the square, everything seemed to have stayed the same in the coffee house. The paint was just a bit cracked and the counters were always scratched up on the surface. Some of the chairs looked worn by time, strong tape covering the tears in the leather. There was more people in the café then Kurt had seen while he was in high school, business must have been well for them. There was a line of two or three people in front of him. He patiently waited with his hands in the pockets of his pants, inspecting the new décor around the shop.

His attention slipped at some point, he became more interested in watching other patrons that he forgot he was waiting in line. He was brought back by a familiar voice that called to him from behind the cash register.

"Twinkle Toes? Is that you?"

Kurt was surprised, quickly closing the gap in the queue and staring at the petite Latina woman in front of him with wide eyes.

"Santana?" He remarked, not knowing what to say exactly.

He and Santana had a particular history. In high school, they were friends, but only in a non specified and non discussed manner. She was pretty and popular and walked the halls with an iron fist. He was the odd ball that even the nerds had to much dignity to be seen with. They were definitely from different spectrums, but they had a mutual respect for each other. The only time their social circles crossed was in the choir, where they gossiped about various topics that seemed so important at the time. They both had a harsh sense of humor, and most of the time all they would do was throw clever remarks and witty banter at each other. They were never all too close, but they were never far either.

"Well, I never thought I would see your pretty face here again." She smiled that devious smirk that had always seemed to be on her face. Kurt blushed, remembering all the conversations they had in the choir room about the future, their aspirations always involved leaving Lima and making a good name for themselves. They had visions and hopes and dreams. Kurt was sure back then that he never would come back either.

It was an odd thought, one that seemed to have slipped past all the important events in his life. All the things he forgot he wanted to achieve, all the things that stayed with him. He smiled at her with kind eyes.

"I could say the same for you," Her smirk wavered, but never fell. "Im only here for a few weeks, and, its nice to be away from the city. I can walk down the street without the fear of being mugged." He said in a sarcastic tone. He took in the subtle changes in her face. Her cheeks were thinner, chiseling her to look more mature. She put on less makeup. Kurt, although he would never admit it, thought she was a very beautiful woman.

"You changed," Her smile finally faded, a glint of something appeared in her eyes. It was gone in a matter of seconds. "You dont look like an eight-year-old boy anymore. Congrats on loosing that baby fat, now you might look old enough to drive."

Kurt stayed stoic as she stared back at him with that devious smirk, looking proud of herself.

"You havent changed at all. No matter how old you get, you will always look like a hag."

Santana laughed under her breath, eyes crinkling at the edges. She almost looked flattered.

"We should hang out before you leave. . . for old times sake." She looked behind Kurt to the agitated costumer tapping her foot. "Tomorrow at lunch. We can go to the new diner that opened up on the other side of town."

Kurt blinked, not expecting the sudden offer. "Sure."

"I get off at eleven thirty for break. Meet me at the diner at noon?"

Kurt nodded and finally ordered his drink. She whipped it up fast, giving it to him with a warm smile.

He went to sit on the plush chairs by the window. Kurt felt excited at the prospect of getting out of the house again. He had done virtually nothing since he came to Lima, all he really did was sit around and wallow in his own self pity or read the newspaper, which was no help. It would also be the first of his few outings that wasnt alone or with family.

He finished his coffee after about ten minutes or so, feeling better than before. He left with a wave to Santana, who smiled back at him. Kurt had always liked Santana, she was a free spirit that spoke her mind and didnt care about what others thought. Kurt admired her for that, wishing that he could do things with that much ease and confidence, but the repercussions for him are greater than it would be for her.

Kurt was chastised quite a bit as a child in the public school system. He had a particular appearance and spoke much softer than other boys his age. His peers were quite rude to him for it, he was bullied past just verbal insults, although he got plenty of those also. The name that seemed to preside over the rest was fagot. It was a harsh word that stuck with him more then the playground bruises and scratches from being pushed down on the pavement. The sound of it alone created a whirling sense of nostalgia. He knew if he tried to speak his mind, it would only fall on deaf ears. That mentality shaped him to be more introverted, but he tried his best to stay true to himself.

They were right, through their taunts and rudeness, he was a homosexual, a fagot. But it was nothing like what they envisioned it to be.

He knew it was just ignorance, the taunting and the shoves. Kurt never let it get to him that much. He was living in New York, and half of his bullies still lived in the little town. Even with that fact, he still felt nervous about being too loud. And, in a way, he had to be nervous. Even in New York, he still wasnt safe.

When he got to the end of the square, he crossed the road to the other side. He wasnt ready to go home yet, it was a nice day and he was enjoying walking around. He took his time to make observations.

A certain shop caught his eye. It had a band new grey sign that shined in the light of the sun. There were two large pots of freshly planted roses on either side of the old wooden door. The whole building smelled of new paint, the bright white stuck out starkly to the rest of the old buildings on main street. Kurt fantasized for a moment how pretty it looked in color, blue sky against the white building, red roses adding contrast to the picture. The fantasy popped quickly, as he had no real basis on what color looked like, it didnt matter what he dreamed of.

Andersons Carnations.

Kurt hummed, it stood so pretty amongst the mid-day light. There was a smaller black sign with the word Open on it. It didnt take him long to decide to go in, he thought he might as well get something nice on his trip to town. There were vases that never really got used, and he had always enjoyed fresh flowers.

He took the brass door handle and swung it open with ease and a ding of a bell. Kurt smiled at the sound. The musical tones swept through the small shop.

It was just as pretty inside as it was outside. It looked very fun, and possessed an old time charm that reminded him of the twenties. There were plants and interesting vases and candles and little nick-knacks in shelves. There was so much going on it almost seemed colorful.

A man popped out from behind the front desk, wiping sweat from his brow. Kurt didnt notice him until he spoke.

"Good afternoon! Is there anything you might need help with, Sir?" He asked standing close to Kurt. He was a tanned skin fellow, his greaser hair didnt quite match his Ivy League style, but it seemed to work well on his small frame. He was just an inch or so shorter than Kurt, bright eyes staring up at him from behind his thick lashes.

Kurt liked the unique style, it reminded him of New York in a way.

"Um, yes." Kurt mumbled, he knew he didnt need help with anything. "Im looking for a nice bouquet."

The man smiled wide, parting his plump lips to show off his pearly white teeth. It was infectious, Kurt felt himself smiling along as well.

"Im Blaine," He said, holding his hand out. Kurt shook it. "Is this for anyone special?" Blaine inquired, looking around at the plethora of flowers. He almost looked nervous, but his eyes were warm and welcoming.

"No. Not at all." Kurt nonchalantly replied. There was a tension in the air, he couldnt quite grasp what it was. "Just something to razz my berries."

Blaine gave a small chuckle, looking down at the floor before turning his eyes back to Kurt.

"Im sorry for asking, but. . . Do you see in technicolor?" Blaine shrunk. Kurt replied with a shake of the head. Most of the time that question is considered rude, but he didnt take it personally. "Im sorry, its just a question I have to ask. Its nothing personal, and Im not saying-"

"Its fine, Blaine." Kurt laughed fondly at the man. Blaine had a classic charm to him, it was refreshing.

"So, do you have a preference for color?"

Kurt thought about where he would put the flowers, what color would look nice in what room. The kitchen was light blue, at least thats what his father told him. He knew what would figuratively look good with blue. He thought back to the front of the store, the sky and the roses, two contrasting colors. . .

"Red. I think I might like something red." Kurt answered, looking to Blaine. "Something classy, without being boring."

Blaine chuckled, straightening out his black bow tie before he started scanning the labeled red section of the shop. Kurt raised an eyebrow at him.

"Not to be intrusive, but. . . Do you see color?" Kurt questioned.

Blaine picked up a pair of sharp, new sheers and snipped precisely at a plant before answering. "Its not intrusive. I asked you, didnt I?" He joked. Kurt felt his cheeks heat slightly from the playful tone in Blaines voice. He was quite a charming stranger, but Kurt couldnt let his guard down for him.

He knew he liked boys before he realized what the word fagot meant. His father knew also. Thankfully he was accepting of his son, but Lima was a small, over religious town filled with rowdy, bigoted people. Most of them saw homosexuals as diseased, especially if it was a soul match. Most often then not, it was known to be a sign of the devil himself. In New York, he had to be careful for risk of violence and discrimination. In Lima, if one wrong person discovered his secret, he could be lynched.

"But no," Blaine tilted his head for emphasis. "I do not see color."

"Isnt it hard owning a flower shop without seeing color?"

Blaine walked over to him holding a white flower with petals that flared out into a dark grey. He pinched the stem between his thumb and forefinger, lips forming into a smile.

"My aunt owns the shop. Im only here for a few more weeks, I go to college in Columbus. Its a nice summer job, plus, I love it here." He motioned to the store with his free hand. "She trusts me to make good decisions."

Kurt nodded. "Im here for the summer too. Im enrolled at the University of New York."

Blaine looked at him impressed, eyes crinkling from the large smile on his face. "I could tell you were a city boy. No one here dresses this nice for a casual outing."

Kurt blushed, feeling his heart stutter. No, he told himself, Blaine wasnt like him. Kurt changed the subject before he could say something stupid.

"So, whats that?"

"Red Variegated Carnation," Blaine looked up at him, eyes shining brightly with confidence. "It has a classic shape, but it is anything but boring."

"Carnation. . . Thats the name of the store." Kurt smiled, the flower was absolutely gorgeous. It perfectly matched what he wanted.

"Yeah, my aunt went through a whole list of flower names when she was starting out. Carnation seemed to sound the best to her." Blaine replied, shifting on his feet. He handed the flower to Kurt, who brought it up to his nose to smell the sweet pollen.

"Its beautiful. I can see why she likes them."

Blaines eyes flicked up to Kurts, lips twitching like he was about to say something. No words came out. It was only a small moment, but the way Blaines face softened and dusted with blush, made it feel like hours. Kurts eyes were locked onto the raven haired strangers over the flower.

He blinked, and the moment was gone. Blaine walked behind the sales counter, Kurt following carefully behind.

"So. . . What size of bouquet would you like?

Kurt set the cut carnation on the counter, nervous, breathing deep. "A medium one, nothing too big."

He bought the flowers, smiling at them brightly. They really were pretty, and Blaine looked so proud of himself for serving a costumer.

Kurt grabbed the door handle to leave the shop, bell jingling before he even pulled it open.

"Wait!" Blaine blurted from behind the counter. He was across the entire store, but Kurt could hear him perfectly. "I uh. . . I never got your name."

He looked more nervous than before, hands preoccupied with the carnation left on the check out desk. He ran his fingers over the petals carefully, hands only shaking a little bit.

"Kurt Hummel."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt Hummel. Maybe well run into each other again before you leave?"

Kurt grinned, tilting his head to the side. "Maybe."

That was when he knew Blaine Anderson was bad news.