It was smooth sailing from that point on, mostly because the cleverly placed walls hid his shameless exit from his father’s land. The Hummel residence was more than boring, even for a prince. He was looking for something less drab and covered in tacky print he wished to refurbish, and more to his own personal taste. Which wasn’t exactly considered fashionable. At least, not by the majority of the population. But seriously, what was so brilliant about feather-breasted blouses anyway? Kurt didn’t have the slightest idea, really.

His style didn’t follow the chest-in-the-air, robust, lion-esque style everyone else seemed to parade around in, and to be honest, he found it a bit disgusting. He wanted to vomit all over his father’s pointed shoes everytime he exited his room wearing puffed sleeves, although part of him slightly admired tights. Only warn in a completely different way, of course. The same goes with feathers. Royalty wore them in all of the wrong ways and if only people would listen to him, they’d be more fashion-forward.

What Kurt wore into town, on the contrary, was slimming and black. Chiq, risque, and it paired with the triumphant smirk he wore on his thin lips. There was no way he was setting foot outside in any sort of corset to hourglass his figure, so instead, he dressed himself in a kilt, tights, large, buckled boots with a slight heel, and a layered tuxedo jacket with a ruffled white button-up and a matching waistcoat. If anyone knew how to stand out, it was him.

His hair, in the same sense, was completely opposite from that of the usual crowd. Men of this age had a tendency to grow their hair out until it draped around their shoulders, and it kind of made him sick. He prefered a shorter cut, which more often then not, shocked the masses. He took pleasure and time in fixing it in the morning, and after setting a few select pins in it, he proceeded to add a bit of a coif. It took him a while to do his hair this way but nevertheless he continued, since there was no way he was wearing one of those dreadful hats. Those were not considered an option when it came to his wardrobe. He couldn’t understand what the appeal was to having linen caps covering up what could be a headpeice of it’s own, he just couldn’t.

So there he stood, chin held high as he took a moment to twirl around at the corner, appreciating the way his kilt lifted from his knees as he did so. Kurt turned every which way, decidedly beelining towards the center of town. Maybe it wouldn’t be as boring when he wasn’t accompanied by his family, puffing out their chests and basking in the fame they aquired simply from wearing a crown.

Despite the fact that Kurt was indeed a prince, he left without his crown, much less the crest they were supposed to wear on their chest. He didn’t feel like having an image to uphold at the moment. For once in his life, Kurt Hummel just wanted to be himself, to be the sixteen year old he always wanted to be.

With that in mind, he walked alongside one of the buildings that took him through to the middle of town, passing several people going in and out of the various shoppes that lined the center. The stones on the ground spun in a pattern to target towards the middle where a working fountain sat, an extremely detailed statue of someone important (that he could care less about, really) perched in the water.

A few children were tossing coins in and their mothers were snapping at them, since that was certainly a lot of money to waste only to have it sit at the bottom of a pond. Or so their mothers would say, at least. To Kurt.. flipping a coin into a fountain wasn't a waste. If anything, the fairy tale sense of wonder that came from wishing on something unknown was exciting to him, and he took the time to toss one in every chance he got.

Sure.. nothing had come of it yet. But waiting was all the more fun, he supposed. And when the day came where all his wishes would come true, he'd certainly remember all the faith he put into flipping tokens into a man-made fountain.

Kurt turned on his heels once he'd finished his little ritual, perhaps wishing for something he knew he wouldn't get, but decidedly not thinking about that part of it. He was well aware he would have to, at some point in the future, get married to a girl and have children to continue their family name.

However, that wasn't at all what he wanted. When thinking about what he found attractive, it was certainly not the hefty sacks of milk and fat known as breasts that everyone else seemed to fawn over. He wasn't allured by the soft curves of women, or the red tint to their lips. If anything, he was envious. Not that he wanted to be a woman himself.. he was jealous of the fact that being with a man was socially acceptable and proper of them to do, but completely wrong and unholy for someone like Kurt.

He found men irresistible in every way possible, only that was considered illegal. Kurt would be accused of sodomy, and put to trial for participating in homosexual acts, which would ultimately result in death if proven guilty.

So, it was easy to see this might be a problem for him.

The fact that it was unethical by all means didn't change how he felt. When he saw a woman that his friends were catching sight of, he didn't understand. Yes, Kurt would agree.. women were pretty. He could see aesthetics regardless of his sexuality.. but, there was no desire. The only people he fantasized about were of the same sex, and that was more than a little terrifying, considering his circumstances.

When faced with these thoughts, Kurt had a tendency to avoid them completely. Which was why he ducked into the first store he laid eyes on in an attempt to steer his mind otherwise. Distractions, that's what he needed.

Of course, he landed himself in a bookstore. His fairy tale mindset led him to the Romance section almost immediately, and his eyes scanned the various covers, inventing the stories in his head based on the information the clever titles gave him.

He was so lost in doing so, that he paid no attention to his surroundings, or to the fact that he was no longer alone on the isle.

"Have you read that one yet?" An unfamiliar voice rings from behind him, and Kurt turns around quickly, his eyes meeting a pair of hazel ones as he faced the stranger.

"There is an entire shelf of books here, I haven't the slightest idea which one you're referring to. But no, all of these are foreign to me," Kurt replied with a smile, not at all nice for the simple fact that he was enticingly attractive. Nope, he was just a friendly person, that was all.

"Well, I must say.. you've come to the right section. All of these are splendid books," The male countered.

"And which one would you recommend, if put on spot to choose?" Kurt hadn't the slightest idea why he was asking. He had no interest in any of these books. Not that he didn't enjoy reading, it just wasn't what he'd intended on purchasing when leaving his home.

"This one," The shorter brunette pointed out, plucking it from the shelf to hold out for Kurt. "It's a beautiful story of forbidden love. It's quite different than all the others here, actually."

Kurt couldn't help the way his throat seemed to dry at his brief description of the book, immediately taking it from the other male's hands. If he would have to read this book to continue talking to this man, that would be exactly what he did.

"One final question. What makes you qualified to tell me about this novel, hm?" Kurt asked playfully, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

The male grinned. "I wrote it," he replied confidently, striking his index below the author's name of the book in Kurt's hands.

Kurt turned the book over in his hands, his eyes gazing across the front. There it was, right at the bottom. Blaine Anderson.

Immediately skeptical, his brow raised. "Mr. Anderson," Kurt said with a laugh. I have a thing for authors, he thought. His cheeks flushed like he'd spoken out loud, even though he was quite thankful he hadn't.

"At your service," Blaine said with the most charming smile he'd ever seen in his entire life, and god, why was this happening?

Kurt pursed his lips in an effort to erase the smile that had plastered itself on his expression their entire conversation. "I'm Kurt," he offered, choosing to leave his surname out of the picture. He didn't need his royalty interfering with this.

"Hummel, if I'm correct?" Blaine questioned.

Well, so much for that.

"The one and only," Kurt responded with the bat of his eyelashes. He realized immediately what he was doing and let out a small sigh, decidedly paying more attention to his actions now that it was quite obvious he was flirting. And he wasn't allowed to do that.

"I've seen your family around. I have to admit, I feel a little honored by your presence right now." Blaine's grin was a little something more than just a smile. At least, it wasn't the ones he was used to from other men.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "As flattering as that is, I could care less about hierarchy or anything of the sort." Some little part of him hoped Blaine agreed, even though that was highly unlikely, considering he was probably the only person in the world that felt this way.

"Oh, don't mistake my inquiry as anything but curiosity. I acquaint myself with people based on their person, not their social status," Blaine replied.

That was it. He was perfect.

"Well, I'll have to remember that then," Kurt said, the smile on his face causing dimples in his cheeks. "You'll be here tomorrow? Same time?"

"Absolutely," Blaine answered decidedly. Kurt refused to allow himself to think about why he'd be here tomorrow. Was this some sort of routine? Or was it simply because it was requested of him?

"Tomorrow it is," Kurt said with a calm tone to his voice, strategically placed there himself to avoid further embarrassment.

With that, the two of them swapped smiles and went in opposite directions.

Upon leaving the bookstore, Kurt had aquired three things; An itch to learn more about Blaine Anderson, a careless attitude towards any and all laws involving his sexuality, and a book.