The next day, Blaine pulled into the Breadstix parking lot at 6:45. His heart was thumping in his chest like it was stuck in a cage and dying to be let out. His palms were sweating again and he wiped them on his tan slacks, taking a deep breath. He adjusted his purple and grey striped tie, smoothed out his collar, and grabbed the single rose from the backseat, then sat down on the bench outside of the restaurant. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this. Hell, he had never felt like this. This was different, for some reason. This was making his palms sweaty beyond belief and his breath catch in his throat. This was making him nervous, and Blaine Anderson never gets nervous. But he was, right then, because of all of the people he had met in his lifetime there was something about Kurt that was just so alluring, so magnetic. All he knew was that waking up next to him felt right, and yeah, maybe this was all backwards but who cared? His life was backwards. Everything was backwards. He liked singing with him, he liked hanging out with him, he liked talking to him and he liked running through the rain with him. He liked the way he felt when he was around Kurt. He liked - well, he liked Kurt.

He barely remembered what Kurt's car looked like, which meant that every person who got out of a car had to be him. But in the end, none of them were, and Blaine twirled the rose around and around and around in his hands. It was 7:10, now, but he figured that Kurt was just late. Maybe he was still getting ready, changing his outfit a million times. Maybe he was stuck in traffic. Maybe he was lost. He made up a million and one stories in his head, wondering if their reservations would still hold by the time the other boy arrived.

At 7:20, Blaine checked his phone for the fifteenth time, but there were no new messages or calls or anything from Kurt. He wondered if the other boy had gotten the time wrong or maybe he was stuck in some really bad traffic. Maybe he had forgotten, or... maybe he just wasn't coming. He didn't know which one would be worse.

At 7:30, it started to snow. Blaine stuck out his tongue, catching a few snowflakes. He noticed how soft the snow fell, how beautifully. He thought about what it would be like, to kiss Kurt in the snow, to lend him his jacket when he noticed him shivering slightly in the cold, to cuddle up against him on winter nights. To sleep next to him under a million blankets. Just sleep, that was all. They could light candles. They could have a little fire. The rose was really looking worse for wear at that point, probably because he had been turning it around and around and around in his hands forever now.

At 7:45, he was getting tired of the stares. Because when someone is waiting outside of the fanciest restaurant this side of Ohio, in a freshly-ironed shirt, wet and shivering from the snow with no jacket, twirling around a single rose and looking up every single time a car door slams, it's kind of a given that they're going to get stared at.

He didn't blame them, really. He might have stared too.

Blaine waited for an hour.

And then he stood up, snapped the rose in half, threw it in a bush and drove home.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, Blaine looked terrible. He knew this because at least five people told him so – two being his parents, who normally wouldn't bat an eye if he happened to come home one day with his hair dyed green. He had gotten maybe an hour of sleep the night before and he was definitely getting sick, because waiting outside in the freezing cold winter weather can do that to you. Kurt hadn't texted him, or called him, or shown up at his door with an apology bouquet. Blaine didn't know what he had done wrong, what made Kurt change his mind. He couldn't believe that Kurt had stood him up like that. He couldn't believe that he bought the other boy a rose, that he ironed his shirt, that he made reservations... for nothing. It was all for nothing. Kurt didn't like him like that, and why would he? He was just Blaine. There was nothing special about him. Who was he, to Kurt? Just someone who worked at the mall and talked to him every now and then?

But Blaine was more pissed off than hurt. Pissed off that Kurt would lead him on like that, would smile that stupid smile of his (Blaine had heard it even through the phone), say that he'd love to – bullshit.

The last thing in the world Blaine wanted to do was go to work. But he had to, and so he did, and he looked terrible, and everyone told him so. Within an hour, three people sent back their drinks with complaints, probably because the barista happened to be running on no sleep. He wished, dearly, that he could tell all of these people that it was way too early and entirely too emotionally exhausting to even pretend that he really cared about their complicated coffee orders, but for some reason he really didn't think that the guy in the grey suit who kept tap-tap-tapping his fingers would appreciate this explanation.

He looked up to hand Grey Suit Guy his order, and just about dropped the cup.

Kurt was walking toward the shop.

He shoved the drink across the counter and made a beeline for the door behind the counter, bumping (literally) into his co-worker, who was on her way out.

“Tiffany, you've gotta cover for me okay? Thanks I totally owe you-”

The girl grabbed his arm as he was trying to make his brilliant escape. “I don't think so,” she said, so agonizingly slowly that Blaine swore he could feel the seconds ticking by, because Kurt was getting closer and closer by the millisecond and there was only one person ahead of him on line.

“What's up with you, anyway? You look terr-”

“I know,” Blaine cut her off, trying to get out of her grasp, but his efforts were futile. He had worked with this girl for his entire time of employment at TCC, and he knew she wasn't going to give in anytime soon.

Tiffany's eyes followed Blaine's, watching the way they darted to and from the kitchen door and sort of trailed to the boy with the chestnut hair every now and then.

“Oh my god I knew it,” She exclaimed, loud enough to cause Blaine's face to redden dramatically. There was no way Kurt didn't hear that.

“I knew it, I totally knew it-”

“Shh! Yeah okay you'll cover for me right? Okay awesome-”

“No.” She popped her gum and lowered her voice, looking Blaine in the eyes. “You handle this. I have no idea what you did, but obviously It was pretty bad-”

“I didn't do any-”

“Doesn't matter. You can handle this. I see the way you look at him, Blaine.”
“I don't-”

“Yes you do. And you can't keep running away from your problems. Plus,” she added, finally releasing his arm. “My shift is over. Good luck.” She smiled widely and bounced out of the shop, and wow, Blaine kind of hated her guts right then.

Blaine looked up, a guilty expression on his face, at the man who had been waiting this entire time and was now clearing his throat rather loudly. He put on his best stage smile and took his order. His hands were shaking as he mixed it, spending an unnecessary amount of time making sure the drink was made perfectly. But in the end, he had to push it across the counter and serve the next person in line. He wondered, absently, if this was worth getting fired over.

He stared at his hands folded stubbornly on the counter.

He stared at anything that wasn't Kurt.

“How can I help you?”

It was all he said.

“Blaine,” Kurt said. “Please. We really need to talk.”

“There's nothing to talk about,” Blaine snapped, and he didn't mean to sound this bitchy, really he didn't, it just sort of happened. “If you didn't want to go out with me, you could have just said so.”

“It's not like that.” Kurt's eyes widened. “Look at me, Blaine. Please?” He reached across the counter to place his hand on top of Blaine's folded ones, but as soon as Blaine saw what he was doing, he pulled them away.

Blaine finally looked at Kurt, and it was only then that he realized how tired the other boy looked. He looked not only worn-out but also like he had been crying – his eyes were red and puffy. There was something else wrong with his face, too, but Blaine couldn't quite place what it was. No, 'wrong' wasn't the right word. Something was... different.

But, whatever. This wasn't the time to think about things like that.

“I waited for you,” he finally said. His voice was made of glass, and it was about to shatter. “I waited outside of that restaurant and I got you a stupid rose and I ironed my freaking shirt and I made those reservations...” he paused in an attempt to steady his voice. “I waited for you, Kurt. For an hour, I waited. There's nothing to talk about.”

He looked at Kurt in a way that said, we're done here.

He looked at Kurt in a way that said, go.

But Kurt didn't leave. He looked at Blaine for a moment, and Blaine couldn't tell, really, whether he was pissed off or upset, if he was about to scream or cry.

“It's not like that,” he repeated. His voice was softer now. “I can explain.”

“Save it,” Blaine snapped again. He didn't want to hear it. Not now, maybe not ever. “If you aren't going to order anything, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Fine,” Kurt said sharply. “I want five iced coffees.”

“No, you don't.” Blaine couldn't seem to get the annoyance out of his voice. “You don't even like iced coffee.”

Okay, he didn't know why he said that. He had no idea what Kurt's views on iced coffee were, really, but Blaine had yet to see the older boy order one.

Judging by the look on Kurt's face, Blaine was right.

“I want five iced coffees,” he repeated.

“Whatever.” Blaine rolled his eyes and turned his back to the boy, beginning to make the drinks.

For once, Kurt barely payed attention to how fantastic Blaine's hips looked when he was wearing that skinny white belt that he always wore.

“Will you listen to me now?”

Blaine almost wanted to turn around, almost wanted to say, yes. Of course I will. Always.

But he didn't. He didn't turn around. He didn't say anything. He just busied himself in making five stupid iced coffees.

If ignoring people was a sport, Blaine would win every time.

“Blaine, come on, this is stupid.”

Blaine took a deep breath and still didn't turn around. “It's stupid? It's stupid, to be upset when you really like someone and he tells you that he would love to go out with you and then he doesn't show up?”

Uh, wow, okay. He really, really hadn't meant to say that. He needed to shut up, before this got somehow worse than it already was. He pressed an ice cube into the palm of his hand, trying to concentrate on anything that wasn't how awful he felt.

He was stubborn, yes. And was it showing? Absolutely.

“I already told you it wasn't like- wait. You... you what?” Kurt's voiced went from almost-yelling to so soft that Blaine was barely able to hear it.

But the boy on the other side of the counter still didn't turn around.

“I didn't- it's not- you know what? Fine.” Kurt threw his hands up and walked away, and it was only then, when he could hear his retreating footsteps, that Blaine finally turned. He watched him go. Watched him leave the store, watched until he turned the corner of the mall, until he diseappeared.

He looked up at the young girl who had been standing there behind Kurt, watching the whole exchange with wide eyes. He leaned against the counter, wiping his blurring eyes with the back of his hand.

“Would you like two free iced coffees?”