Blaine isn't sure what his first experience with the ice was. He knows he must've been young – three maybe – when his parents first took him and Cooper to the local rink. He remembers it like the wisp of a dream, all feeling and nothing else.

He knows the 4" by 6" picture erected on their mantel, though, and he can see it now – Cooper, his long limbs awkward at thirteen, pointing up to the Dublin Ice Arena sign with clearly staged excitement; their mother smiling gleefully despite her hands being full with both her skate bag and baby Blaine, whom she has propped on one hip; and their father with his hockey skates draped over one shoulder, looking looser than Blaine has ever seen before. Blaine thinks that their coats make them look like colored marshmallows.

It is the cold that Blaine actually feels he can remember, the cold and the sudden heat of his father's hands after he'd picked Blaine up after a fall. Blaine doesn't remember the fall, but he remembers his father's hands.

Blaine remembers the time when he was nine more clearly. He'd been invited to a birthday party. The birthday boy was one of his father's co-workers' sons, and Blaine didn't care very much for the kid. Kevin – that was his name – had just joined the kids' hockey team and was more excited to show off how high he could spray the snow when he scraped his way to a stop rather than entertaining his guests. Blaine had spent the afternoon watching a girl in a pretty dress practicing her jumps in the center of the rink.

Blaine remembers, at one point, asking the girl to show him how to do what she'd just done. She'd taken one glance down at his hockey skates and shook her head. "You can't do anything in those," she'd said. She'd skated off, dismissing him before Blaine could explain that the skates were his brother's.

He hadn't skated since.

Logically, he knows that he's been skating before. But this time, right now, overwhelms him with so much feeling of "first" that he feels that this is his first time. He's not sure he'd really experienced the ice until this moment, and he's not sure he's ever going to forget the sound it makes as his blades engrave the figure eight into the ice, following the trail his partner leaves for him as he skates backwards. The boy slowly pulls Blaine along the winding eight, heat coursing from where their fingers twine together.

He loves this boy. At the center of the eight, Kurt releases his hands from Blaine's and brings them up to caress his face. They kiss at the center of infinity.

~*~

Kurt isn't sure why he's doing this to himself, driving two hours to Dublin every Saturday (and spending a decent portion of his clothing fund on gas) just to avoid the Neanderthals at the Lima Iceplex. The hockey team hadn't always been a problem for Kurt. Sure, he'd gotten the occasional slur thrown at him when he skated at public sessions, but the hockey players hadn't gotten physical until they saw what the football team could get away with.

It was like High School had given his bullies permission to become assholes rather than simply douchebags. Their favorite game was to see who could spray snow highest when stopping, using Kurt as their target. Sometimes, when he was preparing a jump, they'd speed past him so quickly that he'd lose his balance. And other times, they'd just harass him verbally.

He stopped going to public sessions, but sometimes the hockey team would practice or have a game immediately after private sessions, which were reserved for those practicing figure skating or taking lessons from a coach. Kurt was self-taught; he didn't skate to compete and he didn't have a coach. For some reason, the team assumed that this gave them the right to mock Kurt since no adult was looking out for him.

The skating rink was no longer a refuge for Kurt. The last straw was when the team Captain had cornered Kurt as he was drying off his skate blades. The Captain had taken Kurt's black skates and spray painted them pink while the rest of the team forced Kurt into the bathroom, where they stripped him of his practice clothes, which they ripped apart, and forced a glittering costume over his thin frame. He'd struggled, kicking out and screaming, but there was nothing he could do when it was about fifteen to one.

In the end, Kurt had found his phone in the tattered remains of his jacket and called his dad to pick him up with a change of clothes. He'd never felt so ashamed, or so afraid of what else they could do. When his dad arrived, calling his name softly, Kurt unlocked the stall and let his dad wrap him in his arms and pulled the ugly costume's skirt as far down his thighs as he could in order to cover as much of his legs as possible.

There, in Burt Hummel's arms, Kurt knew that his dad would raise hell against the rink staff and hockey coaches and, when nothing came of it, tell Kurt he wasn't allowed back at the local rink again. Kurt also knew that this wouldn't matter because he never wanted to come back again.

Kurt thinks that he should feel some sort of remorse for leaving Lima IcePlex behind. After all, it was the rink where his mother took him skating for the first time. It was also where he went to feel closer to her after her death.

But Lima IcePlex hadn't felt like home in a long time, Kurt realizes, as he walks into the Dublin Ice Arena. The place had nothing to do with it; it was the ice. And he knew where to find ice.

He'd picked a public session for his first time at Dublin, because it was the only Saturday information he could find on their website. He'd have to ask about public sessions at some point.

While the IcePlex had been cold no matter what part of the rink you were in, Dublin seemed to have no problem running the heat in their lobby area so that Kurt was sweating in his jacket. He finds a bench in the corner of the lobby to tie his laces, his boots carefully cleaned of all the spray paint that had marred the finished leather -he'd had to use most of Rachel's nail polish remover to get all of it off.

With the heat running, the shift from the lobby to the rink is jarring, but Kurt doesn't mind. He loves the cold. He loves dressing for it, especially because he has plenty of waterproof clothing in case he falls.

Today, Kurt is wearing black yoga pants which fall loosely over his boots. The collar of his white shirt, which he keeps tucked into his pants, peaks out from underneath an asymmetrical grey cardigan, which buttons on his right as the material falls slightly lower on his left side. He also wears black arm warmers that leave his fingers free, though only the material at his hands can be seen, since most of it is hidden beneath the sleeves of his cardigan.

The public session hasn't started yet, and Kurt joins the group waiting at the doors of the rink. There are more kids than adults waiting, and Kurt thinks that someone is probably having a birthday party since they are all talking excitedly together. He can tell that the winter season is coming by the amount of skaters here.

Two hockey players wearing bright orange vests open the doors as soon as the clock hits 12:00. Kurt quells his comment about the vests because he knows that they are standard wear for skate guards, usually teenagers employed to help keep the public session running smoothly. From Kurt's experience, they usually just fool around until someone falls.

The skate guards carry 12 cones out into the center of the ice, spacing them out in a circle. Kurt is excited by the fact that this allotted space for figure skating practice is much larger than what he'd had at the IcePlex.

He lets the birthday party get moving before he joins a teenage girl and her coach in the center of the ice. The girl is warming up, so Kurt approaches her coach.

"Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel," he says to her, holding out his hand. "This is my first time skating here."

"Carey," she returns with a smile. "Getting used to the ice before next month's competition, Kurt?"

"Oh no," he says. "I don't compete. I just needed a change of scenery, so here I am!"

"I see. Where are you from?"

"Lima."

"Ah. Well. I can see why you left." Indeed, to other rinks, Lima was known to be a bit of a dump. Kurt nods.

The girl stopped in front of the pair, breathing heavily from her cross-over exercise. "Hello!"

"Grace, this is Kurt from Lima. This is his first time here. Kurt, my student, Grace."

"Lima? You're gonna love it here."

"I'm sure," Kurt replies. "All right, well, I don't want to take up your time. I'll try to stay out of your way as much as possible."

"Thanks, Kurt," Carey says.

"Welcome to Dublin! Just wait till you hear the piano player!" Grace calls as they skate away. Kurt laughs because it feels like the proper response, but then he thinks about what she said. Wait …what?

~*~

The boy Grace referred to is named Blaine Anderson, as Kurt finds out. At first he thought Blaine was just a DJ because he introduced himself as such at the beginning of the session. Despite the music, Kurt thinks it's very classy for Dublin to have a DJ. The people at the IcePlex had stuck the latest Now CD in the player and let it run on repeat for the duration of the session. Blaine, as it turns out, is a pretty good DJ. He doesn't repeat any songs, and he varies the styles, which Kurt can appreciate even if none of them are Broadway.

For the first hour and half, Kurt practices his jumps and spins. Grace and Carey are long gone from the center by the time he finishes his personal practice.

He doesn't know quite what level he would be – somewhere between Freestyle 4 and 5, he thinks. He just learned the loop jump, and he knows that that's a Freestyle 4 move, but he also can do a flip which is Freestyle 5. He's been working on both his camel spins and his sit spins, knowing he has a habit of traveling. While he knows the mechanics of the spins, he needs to be more consistent at staying stationary.

He sometimes practices his axel off ice. The one and a half revolutions scare him, and he hasn't gotten the hang of it yet. Some rinks have harnesses to help their skaters learn the bigger jumps. A coach will hold the end of the rope to keep the skater suspended in the air as they perfect the feeling of the jump and landing. The IcePlex didn't have one, but Dublin does, Kurt notes as he glances up where it hangs from the ceiling.

He'd love to have a go at it if he ever got the chance.

Mid-way through the session, the guards round everyone towards the exits so that they could clean the ice with the Zamboni. The kids gather around the sides of the rink to watch it, but Kurt goes out into the lobby to warm up.

That's when he hears it – the piano. He follows the sound to an area of the lobby he had missed originally. A table is set up, no doubt for the birthday party. A small piano is in the corner, and the boy playing it is running through scales. His hair is slicked back, and he's wearing a red cardigan on top of a black shirt. It would've been very plain if not for the white bowtie at Blaine's neck.

"Hi. I'm Blaine," he says brightly. He's drawn a bit of a crowd besides Kurt. "I'll be playing out here for the next hour and a half, while Thad here takes over DJ duties." The boy called Thad smiles and waves. "So if you need to escape all the 90's pop, I'll be right here." There are some scattered laughs at Thad's expense, which he just waves off with a grin.

"But first," Blaine continues, "I hear we have a birthday! How about we sing for Emily before we proceed? How old are you, honey?"

"Seven!" Kurt turns and, sure enough, the birthday party has filled the table behind them. Kurt joins the singing of "Happy Birthday," pretty sure that maybe five people at the most were in tune. But it's cute, and Emily bounces happily in her seat as everyone claps for her.

Underneath the applause, Kurt can hear Blaine softly playing a few chords that sound like the beginning of a song. Blaine looks back up at the crowd as the applause dies, and Kurt's pretty sure that Blaine looks directly at him. Blaine looks away quickly, though.

"Uh… So I've also heard that this is Emily's favorite song. Happy birthday. I hope you like it."

And Blaine repeats the chord progression, before leading into a soft cover of what Kurt recognizes as Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." He'd never cared much for the song himself, preferring Gaga over Katy, but Blaine's version is something different all together. Without the pop beats, the heart of the song feels more exposed and there's a pleasant vulnerability to it that the piano highlights.

And Blaine's voice. Wow. Like… for real. Wow. Blaine's sweet croon curls around Kurt and he doesn't think he's ever felt this warm in his life.

Don't ever look back. Don't ever look back.

Kurt knows he's staring, and he's certain "deer-in-headlights" isn't a good look for him. But he can't bring himself to care because this boy is beautiful – not just because of his voice, but because of the heart he's putting into the performance.

Blaine let's his fingers hover over the keys as the last chord resonates in the silence. Blaine looks up again, and this time Kurt is certain that Blaine meets his gaze, and Kurt sees his cheeks flush. But a flash of blonde hair zooms in front of them as Emily rushes towards Blaine. He lifts his arms in the last moment, as she collides against him with an enthusiastic hug.

"That was pretty, Mr. Blaine! Thank you thank you thank you."

Blaine laughs. "You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it."

Kurt sees the crowd thinning out around him and knows that the ice is open for the second half of the skate time he'd paid for. Instead, he decides to listen to Blaine a little longer. Kurt finds a bench and settles in.

~*~

Blaine isn't sure how he managed to score a coffee date with the gorgeous figure skater, but he knows that it definitely happened because Kurt Hummel's number is in his pocket.

He'd noticed Kurt talking to Grace, aware that he'd never seen him here before. The boy was dressed nicely, a little too nicely for skating, but he somehow made it work.

Blaine had a mental list of standards he wanted to play during the session, making sure not to play any songs he would cover on the piano later, but when he saw the boy he would learn was Kurt lip syncing to "Just Dance," he made sure to play more Gaga. And maybe he'd perform his piano cover of "Paparazzi" later. But only if the boy was watching.

It turns out Kurt loved his "Paparazzi." Blaine, feeling bold, had even winked at him. If that wasn't flirting, he didn't know what was. Blaine knows he would've been beating himself up later for his stupidity, but seeing as how it kind of worked, Blaine is proud of himself for taking a chance.

Kurt had stayed through his entire set, missing the second half of the skate session. After the show, Kurt had approached Blaine to introduce himself with a type of confidence that Blaine admired.

They talked about all sorts of things – how Kurt had driven almost two hours to get here and how Blaine lived 15 minutes away, how Kurt loves fashion and performing, how they are both 16 even though Blaine is a year behind in school. And when Kurt noticed that it was nearing 4:00 and had to rush home in order to make it home for dinner, he left Blaine with his number and the promise of coffee so they could continue their conversation.

He barely knows Kurt Hummel, but Blaine knows he wants to. He fascinates him.

Blaine pulls the number out of his pocket and looks at the clock. It is nearing 6:00 and Blaine knows that Kurt should be home by now.

He adds Kurt as a contact and types: Did you make it home ?– Blaine

It takes Kurt no time at all to respond.

Yes. No traffic. About to sit down for dinner though.

Oh okay. I'll leave you be. Wednesday coffee in Lima?

Yes! There's this place called the Lima Bean. You'll love it. 4?

Sure. Good night Kurt.

Good night Blaine.

~*~

Kurt was so little when he started skating that he wore double blades that fastened over his tiny shoes – Velcro ties because shoe laces were such a hassle. He grew up in an ice-skating home, his father being an ex- hockey player – recreational mostly – and his mom being a retired figure skating competitor who'd turned to coaching part time.

Kurt remembers the first time his mother took him skating. He barely remembers her anymore, her face preserved only by photographs, but he remembers the feeling of her soft hands holding onto his tiny ones, supporting his weight as he adjusted to the feeling of floating.

His mom had been a beautiful skater. His dad has an 8" by 10" hanging on the wall that looks like a work of art rather than a picture.

Elizabeth Hummel, frozen in time, has her left extended behind her so that her toe pick digs into the ice. Her right blade is on a deep edge in front of her, so that the boot angles away from camera. Kurt knows that, at the time the picture was taken, his mom was spinning her body so that her right boot circled around the center where her left toe pick met the ice.

She reaches up to touch her right cheek gently with her left hand, while she extends her right arm out, her fingers flared. She has her eyes closed, head titled back, so that her long curls, the same color as Kurt's hair, fall down perpendicular to the ice. She is wearing a navy skating dress that clings to her skin as she arches her back with the pose.

She looks…passionate.

If Kurt had to describe his mom in one word, it would be that one. Passionate. He was eight when she was killed in a car crash, but Kurt remembers the way she would bounce from room to room, singing songs to Kurt and rambling on about things he didn't understand. Kurt remembers his mother being what his Dad calls 'a spitfire.' It's a phrase he sometimes uses to describe Kurt too.

But Kurt wishes he had his mom's passion for everything – music and skating and art and people and life. It's those last two that seem to be failing Kurt lately.

But maybe Blaine can change things.

~*~

Kurt tells Blaine about his mom on their Wednesday coffee date. In turn, Blaine tells him about how much he misses his brother. The topics are sensitive for both of them, though, so they talk about other things.

Blaine tells the story of how he became the resident pianist for the Dublin Ice Arena, explaining how he was incredibly (platonically!) close with his classmate, Thad, and how he pitched the idea to Thad's parents who own the rink and how they'd had to bring the piano in through the Zamboni exit in order to fit it.

Kurt nods because he'd been wondering about that. It wasn't very common to see a pianist at a skating rink.

Blaine talks about how wonderful Dalton is, and Kurt stays silent about McKinley.

Blaine learns that Kurt's favorite musical is Wicked, and Kurt learns that Blaine wants to play Roger in RENT one day. Kurt thinks he'd be a better Collins and tells him so. They find out that they share an interest in Vogue, though their styles of fashion are so different from each other. They decide that P!nk is the perfect middle-ground for Blaine's love of Katy Perry and Kurt's love of Lady Gaga.

Blaine is surprised to learn that Kurt is afraid of vampires, but loves the Twilight movies because of Jacob. When Kurt appears to be slightly insulted when Blaine laughs, Blaine admits to having read each of the books cover to cover.

Blaine feels like he's never going to learn everything there is to know about Kurt Hummel. They plan to meet up again next week. But first, Kurt is planning on going back to Dublin for the Saturday afternoon public session and Blaine is scheduled to play again.

They spend the two days leading up to Saturday struggling with their own pain, but sleeplessly imagining the possibilities of the new feelings that have sunk into their bones.

Kurt wonders if it is okay to miss Blaine this much when they just met. He wonders if Blaine misses him as much as he misses Blaine, while Blaine wonders if Kurt feels the same empty ache in his stomach.

END PART 1