The door opened into a long corridor flanked by several doors.  Blaine tried the first one, and it was locked.  The second opened into a dark room.  Blaine didnt bother groping for a light switch; Kurt was unlikely to be in a room with no lights.  The third door opened, and Blaine was in some kind of employee break room with a refrigerator, microwave, battered sofa, and several metal folding chairs.  Beyond the refrigerator was another door.  Blaine paused for a moment before he walked across the room and opened that door. 

Inside, still shirtless and seated in front of a lighted mirror, wiping sweat off of his face with a washcloth, was Kurt. 

His eyes met Blaines in the mirror from behind the cloth. 

"Blaine!  What are you doing here?"

"Kurt...I...I...my God, you were incredible."

A pleased expression passed over Kurts face, "Did you really like it?"

"Oh, Kurt, youre amazing.  It was one of the most stunning performances Ive ever seen.  I cant believe its you, only, I can, because I know how talented you are."

Kurt looked down at his hands, which were strangling the washcloth on his lap, "So, you dont think its...cheap?"

"Cheap?!  Kurt, no.  No.  Its performing.  Its really performing.  How can you even ask me that?"

"I dunno.  I just...Ive never told anyone I know that I do this."

Blaines mouth dropped open.  "How is that possible?  Why wouldnt you tell people?  You should tell everyone." 

Kurt shook his head, "I dont think everyones going to...my dad..."

"No, Kurt, if I could dance like that, I would be shouting it from the rooftops.  Id tell everybody.  Your dad would be...yeah, okay, he probably wouldnt be all that comfortable in the environment...but hed still be so proud of how talented you are."

Kurt looked at Blaine for a long time, eyes wide and searching.  Then he closed his eyes for a second and slowly opened them again.  "Blaine," he asked quietly, "What did you see when you were out there?"

Blaine didnt quite understand the question.  He tilted his head, "I saw you, Kurt."

"No, no.  Forget that it was me.  What did you see?"

The answer seemed so important to Kurt, and Blaine wanted to give him what he needed--anything that he needed, so he chose his words carefully, "I saw...a performance...a dance.  An act of showmanship straight out of vaudeville or the circus or cabaret that makes your heart pound and your breath catch.  I saw...balance...and ballet.  I saw the possibilities of man coupled with the knowledge that only a select few will ever be able to do what you do.  Impossibility and possibility all rolled up in one."

Kurt pumped his head back and forth a few times and pursed his lips.  "You would.  Of course you would.  Do you know what the rest of them see?"

"The...rest?"

"The others," Kurt waved vaguely with a hand to indicate the other side of the wall, "The other men out there.  Do you know what they saw?"

Kurt was clearly going somewhere with this, and Blaine was trying desperately to follow, so he said nothing. 

"They dont see a performance, Blaine.  They dont look at me and go, ‘Wow, he can really dance, or, "Hey, thats amazing choreography.  No, they see sex.  They look at me and they think, ‘I bet hes really flexible in the sack.  Im no different than a stripper to them.  Or a prostitute."

Blaine opened his mouth to object, but he closed it again.  He remembered all the men screaming and trying to reach for Kurt.  They didnt care if they disrupted the act; they just wanted to touch the man who could bend himself in half. 

Blaine shook his head, "Yeah, I get it, Kurt.  But I dont think that.  I think youre amazing."  He did, too.  He was shocked to see Kurt cage dancing, because the Kurt he knew in high school would have been mortified to be so exposed, but as he had said back in the bar, people change.  

"Really?" Kurts voice was laced with bitterness.  "Do you know what happens now, Blaine?  Now I go back out there with my ‘amazing body--just like this," Kurt indicated his shirtless torso and skin tight pants, "And I walk through the crowd and men give me tips for the dance.  But they dont hand me tips--oh no--they slide them down my pants.  Sometimes they slide them down really far.  And I should be above it.  I should be disdainful of their vulgar displays, but I like it, Blaine.  I like it because I make a lot of money, and I like it because I like the attention and the praise, and I like it because I like their hands on me."

Kurt glared at Blaine defiantly.  

Blaine shook his head, "Do you think I care about that?  Do you think I dont get that living in New York is expensive?  Do you think that I dont get that living in New York is hard, and being touched--even by strangers--helps us to feel a little more human?  Do you know how often I get massages?  And I get manicures, Kurt, just because I want someone to touch me.  I get it.  I do.  I dont care about any of this.  I just want to be with you, because I love you."

Kurts head snapped up, "Dont say that," he said in a low, deadly tone.

"What?  I love you?  Im going to say it, Kurt, because I do."

"No," Kurt repeated, "Dont say that."

"Why not?"

"Im not what you want.  You dont know me, and you cant love me.  Not anymore."

Blaine squatted down on his haunches to look Kurt in the eyes, "Kurt, I saw you.  I thought you were amazing.  I dont care what those other guys think.  I love you.  I never stopped loving you.  I couldnt stop loving you."

Kurt shook his head, "No, you dont.  You dont know what youre saying."

"I do."

"You dont."

"I do."

"No!" Kurt sprung up from his chair so quickly it tipped over, and now he was shouting, "You dont!"

"Why?!"  Blaine was standing and shouting, too, "Why dont I?"

"Because," tears were now spilling down Kurts face, "Because you deserve so much better."

"What?  No.  Kurt..." Blaines anger instantly dissipated, and he put his hands on the other mans shoulder and pulled a sobbing Kurt into his arms.  Kurt clutched him like a child, shoulders heaving, and Blaine wrapped him tightly in his embrace and stroked down his back, "Its alright, darling.  Its okay.  Shhhh.  Its okay."

They stood that way for a long time, but eventually Kurts sobs subsided, and he pulled himself together.  He stepped back and away from Blaines arms. 

"You dont know," he whispered miserably, "You dont know who Ive become."

Blaine was a lot of things.  He may have given up on his childish dream of Broadway.  He may have lost the love of his life due to an adolescent indiscretion.  He may not be the smartest man in the world or the most talented; but Blaine Devon Anderson recognized a crossroads when he saw it.  He drew himself up, put his hands on either side of Kurts face and forced Kurt to look him in the eye.  Then he said, "I love you, and you dont have to love me back, but I think its time to come clean with me, dont you think?  You say I dont know who youve become, so why dont you tell me?"