Kurt's stumbling, pushing through people, just wanting out. His eyes are burning and he can't believe this, he thought he'd had this under control, thought he'd gotten past this sort of freak out.

He makes his way home and he's never been more relieved to find the tiny apartment empty. He can drop down onto his bed and just try to forget the night ever happened, try to forget stupid warm eyes and a sweet smile and the feel of Blaine's lips against his palm and try to forget that there are other ways this could have turned out, because the truth is that he's Kurt Hummel and nights don't end like that for him.

*

Except that he doesn't forget at all. He wakes up the next morning hard and tingling from phantom kisses and quickly fading images of a man on his knees, Kurt's fingers tangled in thick hair. He has his hand on himself before he can really start to separate dream from reality but once it all sinks in his erection goes soft and he feels like he's going to be ill.

He tries to go back to sleep but once he's awake his mind won't shut off. He looks at his phone, thinks about calling his dad or Mercedes. His father wouldn't understand - would try, but would fail, and it would end in awkwardness, but sometimes that's okay because his dad just trying makes Kurt feel better sometimes.

Mercedes would want details; she'd want to dish. She'd tell him get his scrawny white boy ass back to that club and get him some. He smiles just hearing her voice in his head but he doesn't dial the number because a year has put distance between them and she's slipped into the space of someone he can't call at 8 am on a Saturday anymore. She's got a boyfriend, she's got a job, she's got a life and lately Kurt knows more about it from Facebook than he does from her.

And maybe she thinks the same thing about him, and that makes him sad, but he's happy for her, too. She'd asked him to come to Los Angeles with her after they graduated - but Kurt doesn't want to be just a singer or just an actor. Kurt wants the stage, and he'd followed his dreams because dreams were what kept him going that awful last year at McKinley. Dreams and glee and hours spent planning with Rachel, planning this life that they have now. This life that Kurt loves, most of the time.

He stretches out on the bend, one hand resting on his stomach, and gives in to the fact that his mind isn't going to stop. He thinks so long and hard that in the end he has a new resolve: take the good, leave the bad. And there was some good - there was a silver lining, there is something for him to think back on and smile over.

Because before - for a few minutes, a few wonderful minutes - he thinks Blaine was flirting.

Kurt's not dumb. He knows what flirting is. Just because he might not be the most openly flirtatious person ever doesn't mean he's blind to it.

Blaine was flirting with him, and Blaine was in a gay club on a Friday night, and Kurt doesn't want to make the comedic mistake of making wrong assumptions but since he has absolutely on intention of ever seeing Blaine Anderson again, he decides to just enjoy that for one precious moment his jerk-off fantasies might have actually had slightly better odds of becoming reality.

*

It's Saturday and he doesn't have to be at work until one so he sleeps in. He stays in bed, ponders what to make for breakfast and which outfit to wear, and generally just tries to regain his peace of mind after the night before had shattered it.

Rachel knocks on his door just as Kurt is beginning to convince himself he should get up and start to get ready. "I have breakfast," her voice calls out, bright and cheery - too cheery.

Kurt runs his fingers through his hair (not that it matters, since living together Rachel has officially been inducted into the narrow lineup of people allowed to see Kurt Hummel with bedhead) and says, "Come in!"

Rachel's version of breakfast is pastries from the shop down the street. "How are you feeling?" She asks, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting his knee.

His eyes narrow at her as he reaches for one of the pastries. "Why would I be feeling anything but glorious on this lovely Saturday morning?"

"Because-" She hesitates, but his slight widening of the eyes and nod prompt her to go on. "Because last night when I was leaving I - I ran into someone. Outside. Who was looking for you."

"Ohgodno," Kurt says, all in a rush.

"Why didn't you TELL me you were going there to meet him?" She looks torn between being upset and being excited.

"Because I wasn't, now Rachel, what did you say to him?"

"He remembered me from the spa, and he said he was talking to you and you ran off. Kurt, what happened?"

"Nothing, I just - nothing. I realized I... wasn't interested."

"Liar," she shoots back. "You were so interested. And so he is. He felt awful, he thought he'd done something to make you hate him! I told him that simply couldn't be true, and I-"

She stops, suddenly looking guilty. That just solidifies the lump in Kurt's stomach. "Rachel, what did you do?"

"I might have given him your number, all right, I'm sorry, please don't hate me, Kurt, I was drunk, and you get so lonely sometimes and I just hate seing you like that-"

"I'm not lonely, Rachel!" Kurt's voice raises and he drops the pastry back down onto the plate. "I have so many friends, why do I seem lonely to you?"

"You have - friends! Not anything else!"

"I don't need anything else! I have a very full schedule as it is, there's no time for anyone else!" He puts the same emphasis on the words that she had. His voice continues to rise until he's shouting at her by the end. "I'm fine, Rachel, and I really do not appreciate you giving my number out to just anyone who happens to walk by that you think might be good for me!"

Rachel cowers, blinking back wetness from her eyes, always so quick to tears but New York has given her a confidence she didn't have before and she doesn't back down quite so quickly. "You are lonely, Kurt. And I do worry about you. I'm sorry, maybe sharing your number was overstepping, and I won't do it again but we've been here for a year and you just seem to isolate yourself more and more lately and this was the first person you'd shown any real interest in in so long... look, once we're both famous Broadway stars, our hectic schedules probably won't even leave time for romantic entanglements, so now is when we both need to... live a little. I'm having fun here, Kurt, and I want that for you, too."

Kurt's anger deflates because the damning thing about Rachel is how sincere she is and how she really means everything she does.

He can't just let her off the hook that easily, though, so he says, "I'm still mad at you," as he reaches for his pastry again.

*

His afternoon is a long blur of mochas and frappes and venti half-caf non-fat caramel lattes. He's getting decent tips, though, and not one customer has bitched about a single thing, and he actually finds it almost comforting to lose himself in the routine of making drinks, ringing people up, smiling and telling them to have a nice day.

He's lost himself in it so much that he almost drops the medium drip he's just poured when he looks up and finds himself staring into the sheepish eyes of Blaine Anderson.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is a mix of shock and demand.

"Uh, last night - I ran into your friend Rachel, did she tell you?" Blaine looks a little worse for wear - hungover, Kurt's mind fills in - but still distressingly delicious even when green around the gills. He doesn't look like he's shaved and he's wearing a red cardigan over a t-shirt and jeans, faint hints of how he'd been decked out the night before. It's messy, and sloppy isn't usually Kurt's style, but he's apparently less picky when boy in question is standing a foot in front of him.

"She did," Kurt says, stepping back over to the register to ring up the order. "She said she gave you my number, for which I feel driven to apologize since you probably didn't even ask for it. I'm guessing she told you where I work, too? That Rachel, such a chatty little thing once she's had a few."

"But I did," Blaine blurts out, and his cheeks turn a little pink. "I mean, I did ask for it. I just felt bad, you know? I'm not sure why you took off like that, but... I wanted to... apologize."

He shrugs helplessly, clearly having no idea where to take the sentence.

Kurt sighs and has pity on him. "It wasn't you, okay? Or your friends. I was just tired and ready to leave. So your conscience can be cleared, and it'll be $2.14."

Blaine doesn't believe him, but he also doesn't argue. He digs into his pocket for a crumpled five and hands it to Kurt. "Are you sure?"

"Why does it matter?" Kurt asks, ringing him up. He has to stare down at the change drawer for a few seconds because fuck, he really can't concentrate while having this conversation. He's glad no one is in line behind Blaine right now. "Why do you care?"

"Because I-" Blaine stops, frowning. "I don't know, I just do. Maybe it's an ego thing."

"What, guys don't typically walk away from you?" Kurt's mouth is definitely running away from him but at this point he figures he honestly has nothing to lose.

"I didn't mean it like that." Blaine rolls his eyes. "I don't even usually put myself in a position where guys have the option of running away, and oh god that makes me sound like some sort of date rapist or something, I just mean I don't go places like that club a lot. I was only there because my buddy Wes decided it would be a great place for a birthday party, okay? He's not even gay, he just likes that guys buy him drinks there."

Kurt tries not to gawk at the first clear admission from Blaine that he is indeed gay. His brain tries to comb through the barrage of words that have just come pouring out of Blaine's mouth, trying to make sense of it and trying not to find it too adorable that Blaine actually seems... nervous.

Somehow, that makes Kurt feel better. "I have to work," he says, because the door has just opened and a throng of teenage girls that always have coffee orders at least five words long is about to descend. He really doesn't need any more complaints on his record, not after getting reprimanded for offering unsolicited fashion advice... more than once.

Blaine doesn't make a quick exit though. Instead he just stands there, fidgeting with the coffee cup that he hasn't even taken a drink from yet. "What time is your shift over? I could come back."

"You're persistent, aren't you?" Kurt is a little bit amused now, a little bit charmed, and a whole lot blown away.

Blaine grins. "I am. And you're interesting, Kurt. You're... some sort of mystery. I like mysteries."

"I hope that doesn't mean you want to bring along the whole Scooby gang," Kurt shoots back.

Blaine holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just me. I promise. Although they're not that bad - you know, theater kids, they just have no sense of personal space."

The personal space comment makes Kurt's stomach clench a bit because Blaine obviously does have some idea of what made Kurt leave, but it's not surprising. He doesn't think he was exactly subtle. Or maybe Rachel told him - she's never called him on it either, but maybe she can be a little more sensitive than he'd though.

The girls aren't approaching the counter yet... and when Kurt glances over to see if they're still deliberating orders he realizes that they've kept a distance because they're checking out Blaine's ass now. They're checking him out and whispering to each other and Blaine is perfectly oblivious and just standing there waiting and Kurt is a whole lot braver in the light of day so just nods. "I'm off at seven."

"Great!" Blaine's face lights up. "We can grab dinner, maybe?"

"Not a date," Kurt says, instantly.

Blaine just shrugs, taking it in stride, smile undimmed. "Cool. Perfect. I'll be back then."