Kurt Hummel, fashion journalist and style icon is having a crisis. He has a deadline in a few hours and so far nothing written. His first idea about doing a piece on street fashion is gnawing on his brain because no matter how he flips it around there is simply no new and exciting angle. At least nothing he can come up with right now.

Fried brain aside, he needs coffee, which is why he heads into the first cafe he can find.

The interior makes him want to turn around and head back to the street sans coffee, because the place can't have been decorated since the seventies. The walls are brown and orange, the tables painted a jarring green and the mugs looks like they are hand made ceramics.

Trying not to wince, Kurt orders his mocha to go and because he lives for mental flagellation, he turns around to get a good look at the place. It really is quite horrid, but as he is about to turn back to the bar his gaze falls on two patrons sitting by the farthest wall. At first he thinks it is just two Muslim men talking over coffee, but there is something about one of them that seems to resonate with Kurt. They are both wearing the traditional Salwar Kameez, but there is something about the curls sticking out from under the Kufi that makes him think of Blaine.

Of course it's not Blaine, not that he has spoken to his ex in years, but he would never convert to Islam, being a gay man and all. True, Kurt has no idea what he is up to these days, but he is certainly not here, in a cafe in Paris. He lets his mind wander back to after he and Blaine broke up, they tried to stay friends, and when Blaine graduated and got accepted to Georgetown he had hoped that they could keep in touch. However, Blaine had disappeared from his life, slowly fading away during that first year and now Kurt knew nothing of his old friend's life.

Kurt shakes himself out of the memories that always flood his mind when he is reminded of Blaine. Once again he studies the men deep in conversation. The curly haired one gestures with his head as he talks, and it's like Kurt has received an electric shock. It can't be, but at the same time what are the odds of someone with dark curly hair having the same body language as Blaine, his Blaine. He has to know, so he slowly moves towards the doors, taking a detour that will bring him past the two men. As his booted feet step closer he feels a sense of growing unease. He doesn't know why, but it's like the air in the coffee shop has suddenly become thicker and he is having trouble moving forwards.

"Blaine?" he says, he has reached the two men now and by the sound of his voice they both look up at him. It's like coming home when he meets the familiar hazel eyes.

The contact is short lived before Blaine breaks eye contact and looks at the other man with a confused expression on his face. True, it's hard to tell what his expression is because his face is covered in a bushy beard, but Kurt spent so much time studying Blaine's mannerisms before they even got together and he knows confusion when he sees it. Which is making him question his mind's decision because Blaine would recognise him anywhere, Kurt is certain about that.

The two men say something to each other in some language Kurt doesn't recognise. Blaine shrugs his shoulders, just like he used to in high school, before turning to Kurt. "I am sorry," he says in broken French, his voice just as velvety smooth as the last time Kurt heard it. "I don't know what is... Blaine?" He still looks confused and Kurt doesn't get it. Was he wrong, he can't be wrong, this has to be Blaine, but why doesn't he recognise Kurt and why is his French spoken with an Arabic accent?

"I'm sorry," Kurt replies in French, "I was certain that you were someone I knew back home in the States." The man that looks like Blaine mutters something to the other man and he stands up with a disgusted look on his face. "Keep away, American scum!"

Both men leave the café, leaving Kurt in the middle of the floor, coffee forgotten in his hand. What just happened?

Kurt is so out of it he actually forgets about his deadline and just walks back to his tiny apartment in the 11th arrondissement. He doesn't remember anything from the walk itself, his mind is going over every little bit of detail from the meeting with the two men in the coffee shop. Even if he denied it, the man had to be Blaine, there was no other explanation. Everything fits, every little mark and gesture.

Kurt takes the rickety old elevator up to the sixth floor and unlocks his apartment door. When he steps inside the familiar space he gets that feeling again, that something is just not quite right. Just two steps in he knows his instincts are right. There are two suit clad people in his kitchen, one man and one woman. "Kurt Hummel," the woman says, and it is not a question. "You will forget what and who you saw this afternoon. You will not try and contact the man you thought you recognised and you will not mention any of this to any living soul. Is that clear?" Her voice is impassive and cold, but he can tell that she means every word and that he doesn't want to know the consequences if he should disobey. He simply nods his head, letting his arms hug his midriff. "Goodbye Mr. Hummel," she says, all set on doing a graceful exit when the man opens his mouth for the first time. "May I use your bathroom, Mr. Hummel?" The woman looks annoyed, but she doesn't say anything, just walks out of the door. Kurt gestures to the bathroom door and the man disappears for a moment before he comes back out and bids Kurt goodbye before he leaves. It is all very civilized.

After the man and woman leaves Kurt stands in the same place for a long time, lost in thought. In fact, when he looks up there are shadows stretching across the apartment and outside the sun is setting. His phone is vibrating in his pocket, he takes it out. There are thirteen missed calls, all of them from his editor's office. He hadn't heard anything. Carefully, he shuffles over to his couch and sits down. He doesn't understand what is going on, but he knows this. He saw Blaine today. He saw Blaine for the first time in almost ten years. Kurt filters away all the confusing details surrounding this day and he just revels in the memories of Blaine's face, voice, his everything. It might be the amount of time they have spent apart that brings him to this sensation, the swooping tingle in chest. He has had this feeling so many times over the two years he spent with Blaine and his mind digs out the memory of the first time he had this feeling, standing on the steps of Dalton academy, staring into those golden eyes for the first time, hearing that voice and feeling the warmth as Blaine shook his hand.

It is getting late and Kurt decides to head to bed. He just needs to take a shower and moisturize first. He sees it the moment he steps inside his bathroom, stuck to his mirror is a note. It is just one of those yellow post-its with a few words scribbled on it. The handwriting is unfamiliar but the words make Kurt gasp.

Never say goodbye to me