Thunder crashed in the sky making the very floor shake under Blaine's bare feet. He sucked in a breath of air and tried to tuck himself into a smaller ball in the corner of the room as lightning briefly illuminated his hiding place. Cooper had said to wait for him here and not to come out of his room. Blaine was trying to be obedient, at only five years old and Cooper twelve years his senior Blaine was used to taking his brothers word as law. Cooper knew best, even if the cold stone ground made Blaine's small frame shiver.

It was hard to stay still with rain pounding against the window and the wind howling, sounding like an angry wild animal. Blaine just wanted to be with his family, but they were all down the hall. He could hear them, even over the sounds of the storm.

His father and Cooper were yelling at each other. His mother was occasionally speaking up, her voice loud but somehow brittle, like it could splinter and little notes of it would bounce off the ground. Blaine hated that his family was fighting. What was worse was that they were fighting because of him. He pulled his knees up to his chin and tried not to cry.

“He's only a child!!” Cooper was yelling. He'd already said this numerous times, but it seemed like it hadn't been enough.

“I know!” His father bellowed, “Do you think I want this for him? For you? For any of us?”

“Let me take him,” Cooper begged, “I'll keep him safe. You know I would never let anything hurt him.”

Blaine sniffed and strained to hear what else was said; he could hear the deep tenor of his father's voice but couldn't make out what he was saying.

“It is decided,” his mother spoke up, finality in her voice. Blaine knew that tone; it wasn't one you fought with. “They are coming and we have no time to waste debating.”

“But Mother-” Cooper started but stopped abruptly and Blaine could only imagine the look she must have shot him.

It was a few more minutes where Blaine couldn't hear anything else before he looked up and saw someone enter his room, the lightning flashed and Blaine whimpered and reached out when he saw that it was his mother.

“Come here my sweet boy,” she called, her voice taking on a softer tone than he'd heard before; she knelt down and pulled Blaine's boots on for him before she lifted him in her arms, smoothing his hair down with her palm and then kissing his head. “You are going with your brother,” she said, and Blaine looked up from where he'd buried his head in his mother's neck to see Cooper standing nearby, a tight smile on his face.

Cooper reached out and Blaine only clung to his mother a moment longer before letting Cooper take him. He was old enough that he wasn't really carried anymore, but he was confused and scared and could tell the grown-ups were afraid as well so he let them hold him.

“Have courage,” his mother whispered and kissed Cooper's cheek. “Godspeed to you both.” Blaine heard the crack in his mothers voice, like she was crying even though there were no tears on her cheeks. Her deep golden eyes looked sad and Blaine wanted to tell her everything was going to be alright, but he didn't even know what was going on.

Everything was a blur after that; he didn't see his father, but as Cooper rushed them out of the house into the pouring rain, he heard his father shouting and the wind howled again and Blaine buried his face in Cooper's shoulder and listened to what sounded like his father scream.

Cooper ran. Rain pelting down on them and the sky roaring in anger. After a while Cooper stopped suddenly and knelt down, setting Blaine on the wet ground. He saw that they had made it to the bluff that bordered on the edge of their property. A place Blaine was never allowed to play because his parents feared he'd fall and hit the jagged rocks that the ocean crashed against below.

“Listen to me Blaine,” Cooper was saying breathlessly over the din of the storm. “You are going to have to be very courageous and very still.”

Have courage, that's what mother had said as well. Cooper even sounded like he was crying just like their mother had, but his face was so wet from the rain that Blaine couldn't tell if it was true. “This is going to hurt little brother, but you trust me don't you?” 

Blaine could only manage a frightened nod, but he did trust Cooper and he wanted to be courageous. Cooper reached into his cloak and withdrew a small round pendant no larger than a coin and made of stone. Blaine gasped when he saw it, that pendant belonged to their father; he wore it around his neck at all times for protection. Blaine was never allowed to even touch it, what was Cooper doing with it?

Cooper closed his eyes, held the pendant on the flat of his hand and started to whisper under his breath. Blaine watched in awe as the pendant started to light up, glowing from the inside out and illuminating them both, as he and Cooper knelt on the soggy ground.

Cooper's eyes snapped open just as Blaine had to look away because the light was so bright.

“I'm sorry,” Cooper said brokenly, and then he pressed the pendant against Blaines chest, right over his heart. There was a searing pain and a loud crackling of thunder and Blaine started to scream. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding through the air and then the intensity of the pain in his chest became too much for him and everything went black...

Blaine reached over to shut off his alarm as it rang, the twin bells of the old clock chiming too loudly in the early morning air until Blaine pressed his palm again the button to turn it off. He lay in bed for a moment longer, staring up at the ceiling and not wanting to get up.

He didn't let himself indulge in ‘just a few more minutes' though; it wouldn't help, he never felt truly rested. He sat up and swung his legs over the bed running a hand through his thick hair. He stood and walked to the glass sliding door that took up half of the far wall of his bedroom and pulled back the curtains. The sun was still coming up, painting the sky in soft yellows and blues. Blaine shivered, cold in the cool of the morning, the view doing nothing to warm him. He turned and walked to his bathroom, flipping on the light and undressing, before he stepped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as he could take and standing in the stream until his skin turned pink with the heat of it.

Once he'd showered, the bathroom was filled with heat and the mirror too fogged up to see his reflection. That was fine; it was how he liked it. He wrapped a towel around his waist, not looking down at his body, and then he opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a comb, pulling it through his short wet curls and letting them dry as they wanted. He brushed his teeth and rubbed his hand over his chin. It was rough, but not too bad, he could put off shaving for tomorrow.

Then he went back to his bedroom to dress. He looked around the almost empty room, frameless bed still unmade, gray walls and metal dresser. Just the basics really, it looked like no one lived here at all. Blaine smiled ruefully to himself: that was close enough to the truth. He didn't think much about the clothes he pulled out of the dresser and then pulled over his body; he then picked up his book bag and looked through it briefly to make sure he had everything he needed for the day.

He grabbed his thick black jacket on the way out, he was always cold and the harsh New York winter didn't help. He pulled a pair of gloves out of the pocket and then stuck his gloved hands in his pockets for the extra warmth. He walked down the street until he got to a little steel rolling cart with a battered blue and yellow umbrella over it sitting at its usual corner.

“Good morning Manuel,” Blaine greeted stoically as he wondered how Manuel managed to stand in the cold for so long manning his cart.

The young man behind the cart smiled winningly at him. “Good morning Anderson. I have something special today. Fresh papaya.”

Blaine lifted his brows doubtfully, “Fresh papaya in February?”

Manuel shrugged, “Only the best for you.”

Blaine looked over the cart at the sparse fruit available, brown bruised bananas and some small apples. “Fine. I'll take your word on it, and some coffee.”

“You said my coffee tasted like drinking a cremated cat strained through a dirty nylon,” Manuel said, reaching to a shelf under the cart and coming out with a plastic baggie of what did indeed look like slices of fresh papaya.

The side of Blaine's lips twitched up briefly in a smile that was gone just as fast. “Yes, but your coffee is at least warm.” Blaine took his order, paid him with whatever bill he found in his wallet first, and turned to leave.

“This is too much Anderson!” Manual called after him, looking at the hundred dollar bill in his hand.

Blaine ignored him and kept walking, letting the heat of the coffee seep through the styrofoam cup and warm his hands, while also munching on the papaya slices. They weren't bad. The day was gray and cloudy, and while it wasn't snowing yet, there were grimy patches of melting snow left on the ground from the flurry a couple of days ago. The whole city seemed muted and dreary and gray; Blaine didn't mind, it fit his mood.

The fruit was gone by the time Blaine reached his subway platform, the coffee he had hardly tasted, just keeping it in his hands for warmth instead. He looked around at the large crowd waiting for the train and then dumped the cup in a nearby trash bin; in this crowd, he'd probably end up with coffee spilt all over him and the meager warmth it provided wasn't enough to make him risk it.

To his left, Blaine noticed a mother with two children waiting for the train. One of her boys was probably four or five and hanging onto his mother's hand while she bent down and tucked a blanket around a toddler in a car seat. The toddler dropped its stuffed doll and his brother leaned down to pick it up for him. Blaine looked away, a heavy feeling in his stomach, and didn't pay them much more attention outside of noticing that the older of the two kept tugging on his mother's hand as he looked around the platform. She patiently let him squirm until the train pulled up and the doors slid open.

People pushed forward to crowd into the car, Blaine never had trouble getting through crowds even if he was shorter than many of the other men here; he had a way of making his presence known and people typically got out of his way. He was stepping onto the train when he saw some impatient man rudely shove the woman and her sons out of the way so he could get in.

The woman was stuck on the platform, people flowing past her, trying to wheel her stroller onto the train car. Blaine sighed and took a step forward, laying his hand on the man's arm; the man looked up at him and was about to snarl something out, but Blaine just wordlessly pushed him back. It wasn't a violent shove, just enough of a push so that the man was back on the platform and Blaine had the space to make room for the woman and her two sons.

“Come on,” he said, nodding for her to move, and she looked up and smiled, getting on the train quickly.

“Thank you,” the woman said brightly. “I know I take up space but it's hard getting around with two kids and…” She trailed off because it seemed Blaine wasn't listening; the man Blaine had pushed out of the train was yelling.

“What is your fucking problem man!” He said, stepping to get back on the train but Blaine blocked his path as the doors slid closed. The train started moving and Blaine just watched the man on the platform as he shook his fist at Blaine and yelled.

Blaine turned around to find the woman still standing near him with her sons. “Thank you for your help,” she repeated.

Blaine glanced down to her older son who was looking up at him with a sticky smile, whatever he'd had for breakfast still partially left on his face.

Blaine just nodded curtly and moved away, not wanting the woman to have a chance to engage him in conversation. Really he'd done that more for his own satisfaction than for her anyway.

A few stops later, Blaine got off the train and headed back up to the surface streets. He looked up at the cloudy sky, surprised it hadn't started snowing; he readjusted the bag on his shoulder and pulled the hood of his coat over his head. He hated the cold. Blaine looked at his watch; he was going to be early for his appointment. That was fine; he didn't have anything much better to do anyway. Besides, being early meant he could go get a real cup of coffee first. 

Kurt jogged back down the hallway to the classroom he'd just left. He poked his head in to see the professor sitting at her desk look up at him. “I left my jacket,” he explained with a smile, and slipped into the room to grab the sapphire blue peacoat from where he'd left it hanging on a hook on the opposite wall.

“You better hurry Kurt; don't you have a class right after mine?” Ms. Pole said.

“Not today!” Kurt answered brightly. “It was cancelled and I suddenly have the whole afternoon to myself.”

“Oh miracles of miracles,” Ms. Pole smiled. “Go. Be young and happy in New York City! Make the best of it while I sit here and grade papers.”

Kurt smiled and pulled a thermos out of his book bag. “Hot chocolate,” he said, setting it down in front of her. “I haven't had any yet. I swear it is the best hot chocolate you've ever had and I can get the thermos back from you next week.”

“Oh, Kurt, I really shouldn't…” 

Kurt lifted an eyebrow. 

“You're an angel,” Ms. Pole said, grabbing the thermos, flipping the lid and taking a deep breath. 

Kurt smiled at her, “Enjoy.” He started to head out of the room. 

“Don't think this will help your grade though young man,” she added as he opened the door.

“Do I ever need the help?” He asked with a wink and she laughed shaking her head as Kurt left.

Kurt was in his last year here at NYADA and he knew his teachers well. Ms. Pole taught Creative Production Projects and was one of his favorite teachers. Kurt worked hard in her class, as he did in all of his classes, and always got good grades, he didn't need to bribe her. 

There were other teachers he struggled with, though, or they just didn't seem to like him, and if a thermos of hot chocolate would help him out in those classes, he'd be the Hot Chocolate King. However, at this point in his academic career, all he could do was work hard and keep his eyes on the prize. He was so close to graduating.

Kurt got outside and smiled as the crisp cool air hit his face. It smelled like snow. He loved New York in the winter, snowy sidewalks, Ice Skating at Rockefeller Center, bundling up in warm colorful scarves. He loved this city. After living most of his life in Lima, Ohio, moving to New York was like coming home. Not that his first couple of years hadn't been a struggle; it was expensive to live here, and the city could be harsh, but Kurt felt freer here than he ever had. He'd made a place for himself in the city and he knew he'd always feel like New York saved him in a way, or at least afforded him the chance to really be himself. This was somewhere he didn't have to hide.

Now Kurt had been in New York City for four years and he was almost done with school; he even had a part in an off-Broadway play lined up for after graduation. His best friend Mercedes had moved to the city a few months ago adding the cherry on top of his sweet life. Like anyone else, Kurt still had days where he felt buried in schoolwork, and nights where he lay in bed lonely and wanting someone to hold on to, he still missed his dad and step-mom and his friend Rachel who'd moved to California, but all in all, life was good.

Plus, it was Friday and Kurt's last class had been canceled, which meant he got to go to Aroma Mocha, his favorite little coffee shop. He loved it mostly because they made the best mocha latte and also because almost every afternoon, sitting in one of the big oversized velvet chairs and reading a book, you could find one of the most attractive men in all of New York.

Kurt would never say he went to Aroma Mocha just to catch glances of this handsome stranger, but he did need somewhere cozy to do homework, and it was nice to get out of the apartment, so if he spent some afternoons hoping that it would be one of the days “cute coffee shop guy” was there, well, who did that hurt? 

The bell above the door chimed as Kurt walked into the shop and out from the chill of the winter air. It was probably going to snow again. The barista smiled and waved at him, he was here a lot. 

“Your regular?” She asked as Kurt neared the counter. She was a cute Asian girl with long dark hair and an almost constant smile. 

“Yes please.”

“One medium non-fat mocha coming up.” She leaned forward and spoke in a quieter voice. “Don't look now but your boyfriend is in the corner.” 

Kurt's eyes widened and he causally turned his head to see cute coffee shop guy in the corner, sitting in the big turquoise wingback he usually occupied and reading a book. Kurt turned back to the barista, hating the way his cheeks warmed; hopefully, they were still pink from the cold outside and she wouldn't see his blush. “He's not my boyfriend, I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Oh?” She smiled at him. “And I thought we both enjoyed that particular view.”

Kurt sighed and kept his voice low, “He is really good looking.” 

The stranger in question was gorgeous actually, tan skin and dark wavy hair. He had these beautiful honey-colored eyes that were framed with maddingly long lashes. He had broad shoulders and strong arms. He still had his jacket on today so Kurt couldn't see his arms, but he knew the muscles were there, he'd seen them before. Not overly bulky but toned and beautiful. He was a little short and compact but really that added to his charm in Kurt's eyes. Today, he had a little scruff to his cheeks and his glasses on to help him read and he made Kurt's heart flutter and his hands a little clammy. 

Cute coffee shop guy always came here alone, always sat in the corner reading, and never made eye contact with Kurt. 

“More than just good looking,” the barista said, pulling his attention back as she handed Kurt his drink. “I'd have that man's babies in a heartbeat.” 

Kurt laughed and took his order and was going to turn away when a thought hit him, “Hey, what does he usually order?” 

“Just drip coffee and he drinks it black.” 

Kurt scrunched his nose, he had tried to drink coffee straight, and as much as he loved coffee, he had never quite gotten the hang of drinking it black. 

“Why?” The barista asked. 

“Nothing… I just might buy him a refill if he is here long enough.”

“You're actually going to talk to him this time?” 

Kurt glanced at the stranger and then back at the barista. “Maybe.” He smiled and tipped his cup at her before heading to his usual spot, a small table off to the side with room to do his homework that still had a good view of a particular turquoise wingback chair. Kurt was feeling good today, lucky; maybe it was time to finally meet his handsome stranger. 

Kurt had been there a half an hour before he saw the stranger throw away his cup. Kurt was worried that meant he was going to leave, but he looked at his watch and sat back down again. It might seem creepy if Kurt got up immediately to buy him a refill, but then again, if he didn't do it now, he might miss his chance and Kurt had been trying for months to get up the nerve to talk to him.  

Kurt got up abruptly from his table and walked to the counter. “A medium drip coffee please,” he said, pulling out the money to pay for it. He was going to do this before he talked himself out of it. The barista gave him a little wink as she handed him the coffee and that didn't actually help his nerves. 

Kurt couldn't believe he was so nervous; he knew how to talk to guys. After finally getting out of Lima and living in New York for four years, not to mention going to an arts school, he'd had plenty of opportunity to flirt and be flirted with, he'd dated regularly. This was different though, he'd been carrying this crush on cute coffee shop guy for months, and now talking to him was going to be a reality. Don't mess this up Kurt! He thought as he approached the stranger. 

“Hi!” Kurt said, and the man looked up from his book taking off his glasses, and damn those eyes. Kurt cleared his throat and continued. “I noticed you're out of coffee,” he said. “Medium drip right?” Kurt held out the coffee and the man slowly shut his book, laying it on his lap and looking at the coffee in Kurt's hand, and then up to his face, but not answering. 

Don't just stand here like an idiot. Kurt chided himself, say something! “I've noticed you here a few times and thought I should introduce myself.” 

The man nodded, but still didn't take the coffee. “Okay. Go ahead.” 

“Um… what?” Kurt said nervously, the coffee suddenly feeling too heavy in his hand. 

“Introduce yourself.” 

“Oh.” Kurt smiled, the man's voice was smooth and pleasing, but not warm and he wasn't smiling at all. “I'm Kurt.” 

“Kurt.” The man repeated and nodded again. “I see. And you thought it would be what… nice? To buy me coffee?” 

Kurt was starting to get a little worried, why was this guy being so weird? Just take the coffee!

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Kurt joked with a smile. 

“Sure, just a nice thing to do for a stranger. One of those pass it on things right? But you know the funny truth about random acts of kindness?” 

Kurt wet his lips nervously, he didn't know what was going on here, but he didn't like it. 

“They aren't really kind.” The stranger continued. “People rarely ever do something selflessly kind. On the outside it looks like kindness, but really it is to make the person feel better about themselves. It is a pat on the back, an ‘oh look at me I'm a good person.'”

“I…” Kurt started and then stopped; he didn't know what to say. 

“You give me coffee and I give you validation. Isn't that how this works?” 

“No,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “That's not what this is.” 

“Then what did you hope to gain from this little interaction?”

Kurt blinked and then shook himself out of his surprise at how horribly this was going. He clenched his jaw as anger started to flare up in him and then set the coffee down on a little side table by the stranger's chair. “Your name,” Kurt spat angrily.

“Excuse me?” 

“I was hoping to get your name.” Kurt stood up straight, his back rigid, and glared down at the man. “But I don't really care about that now. I have no interest in getting to know someone so rude.” 

The man lifted his eyebrows in surprise as if he didn't even know he'd just been offensive. “My name is Blaine.” 

“I really don't care,” Kurt fumed and turned back towards his table. 

“Huh.” The man said and Kurt's head snapped around to look at him. “I guess you didn't get anything out of this after all then.” 

Kurt just shot him a glare and marched back to his table, sitting down and leaning over his books even if he couldn't focus on what he was meant to be reading. Hot tears pooled in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall. He had had gotten used to a certain amount of abruptness from New Yorkers, but that had been humiliating. Not only humiliating, it had been disappointing. He'd been daydreaming about meeting the cute coffee shop guy for so long and now Kurt finally knew his name and he'd found out he really didn't like this Blaine character. 

After a few long minutes of angrily glaring at his book, Kurt saw Blaine leave out of the corner of his eye, taking the coffee with him no less. 

Kurt sighed and tried to relax when someone put a plate with a blueberry scone on it in front of him. Kurt looked up to see the barista standing there. 

“That was brutal.” 

Kurt cleared his throat of tears but didn't answer. 

“The scone is on the house for showing me what a jackass that guy is. And to think I've been making flirty eyes with him all this time.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said, calming down a little. 

“Want me to try and spit in his coffee next time he is here?”

Kurt smiled feeling a little better “That won't be necessary, people like that have to deal with their own karma.” 

“I hope his karma includes slipping in a pile of mud, missing his train and… and getting locked out of his apartment!” 

Kurt laughed as the tension started to fade from his shoulders and nodded his thanks as the barista returned to work. Kurt looked down at the scone with a sigh. It had started as such a good day and now months of crushing on cute coffee shop guy had exploded in his face, so why did his heart still to fluttery little flips when he thought about Blaine's golden eyes?