Starting as an intern for Vogue was like starting to breathe again, after months spent under water, still in Lima, the ghosts of his past and the dust of his broken dreams piled at his feet. All of a sudden the world was full of colors, his heart beating fast and excited. New York didn't seem so scary anymore. Months slipped by and Kurt sank deeper and deeper in the chaos that Vogue was.

Then one day Isabelle dragged him to a photo-shoot and Kurt fell completely in love with the lights and the clothes and the carefully studied way models looked at the camera. Every curve and every line perfect and precise. That night he went back home and babbled away at Rachel as they sat at their stamp-sized kitchen table. Rachel looked at him from over her tofu and smiled. "Maybe that's your path, then", she said and Kurt found himself smiling back, thinking that she might indeed be right.

The following day, he waited until everyone had left and made his way to Isabelle's office. Sure enough she was sitting at her desk, chewing at the tip of a pencil as she studied some photographs. Kurt softly knocked on the doorframe and cleared his throat.

"Oh, Kurt. Come on in."

Kurt liked her smile, the way she was always there for him, effortlessly supporting and giving precious advices.

"What brought you to the old lady's den?"

"You're not old, Isabelle! And you know you are ten thousand times more elegant than a twenty years-old plain girl."

"My my, you sure know how to be the perfect gentleman."

Kurt grinned.

"I try."

Isabelle leaned over the desk, a gentle smile on her face.

"Spill."

Kurt briefly looked at his hands, clasped on his denim clad knees before lifting his gaze again.

"Yesterday...when we went on set for that photo shot, I...I really liked it and I was wondering...if maybe you could take me with you again? Of course if I'm not too much of a hindrance and..."

Isabelle chuckled, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You sure babble when you're embarrassed."

Feeling his cheeks on fire Kurt quickly averted his gaze, focusing on the replicas of McCurry's photos on the wall. He almost jumped out of his seat when Isabelle's hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey, look at me. I didn't want to offend you. I simply found it very endearing."

Still blushing Kurt managed to flash her a small smile.

"And I'm actually glad you brought that up. I know you would be really good at it. You are meant to work in fashion, I've already told you that much."

"I...you really think so?"

Isabelle squeezed his shoulder.

"I do. Since the first day when you were the only one reasoning while all the others well babbling idiocies about leather accessories."

Kurt felt light as a kite, excitement bubbling up inside of him.

"This means I can come with you next time?"

"Yes, baby. And I'm going to teach you everything that I know."

That night Kurt bought a couple of bottles of cheap wine at the 24/7 down the street from his and Rachel's apartment. They ended up passed out on the couch after a night spent giggling and planning their sparkly futures.

*

The back of the car is cramped with folders and bags and Kurt tries to make himself smaller. Isabelle chatters away at her husband on the phone and he watches the world sliding past outside the car's windows. Streets, lamp-posts, people. It feels like being in the stomach of the universe. Right at the center of life. Kurt knows New York has done him good. It has helped him to find his own balance, unsteady at first and then firmer and surer. It didn't fix everything, it didn't erase the scars. Somewhere inside of him lives the scrawny kid who was laughed at because he liked to wear bowties and play with tea pots in the back garden. Inside of him still lives the boy who walked along McKinley's corridors with his head held high and his heart trembling with fear at the sound of approaching feet.

But he has grown up, he is stronger and he knows it. Outside, New York parades for him in all its incoherent beauty and Kurt smiles, air singing in his lungs.

"It's the perfect weather, isn't it?"

Isabelle looks at him with a grin stretching her lips and Kurt frowns. That grin never means anything good when she is the one sporting it.

"Do you need to tell me something?"

She shrugs, blond hair bouncing over her shoulders, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Who? Me? Why would you think that?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, but he is smiling. Isabelle tends to have that effect on him. She has been his mentor, his guide not only inside the beautiful and terrifying microcosm that Vogue is, but inside life itself. Pushing him beyond his boundaries, teaching him how to defend his own ideas and fight for them. How not to be scared by life. That is a lesson he is still learning.

"You won't fool me."

"I swear I don't know what you're talking about, mister!"

Kurt chuckles and leans back against the seat. If there's a surprise in store he'll find out soon enough.

~*~

Fall is around the corner - the air is slightly chillier and Central Park's trees are sporting the first yellow leaves. It's around midday and Bethesda terrace is bustling with life. It is still warm enough for office employees to eat lunch outside, sat on the fountain's edge.

Kurt stands on the entrance to the underpass, watching as the photographer directs the technicians who put up the lights. When he was a kid, he would have never imagined how much work there was behind the pictures on Vogue's glossy covers. But then Isabelle took him by the hand and showed him. The meticulousness underpinning every slide of light and twist of wrist. Kurt fell in love with it quick and hard and Isabelle did her part in dragging him even deeper into it.

The first day she asked him to take care of a model because she was busy on the phone Kurt's throat had lodged itself in his throat and never left until the end of the photo shoot. But his hands were firm when he adjusted the clothes over the model's curves, his eyes focused when he scanned the area and found a spot that would work better. Ideas flitted back and forth like sparrows in his mind. When Isabelle got off the phone, she took in his work with a pleased smile. She didn't say anything, but once they were back in the car going back to Times Square she hugged him closer, her lips a gentle brush against his temple.

This time he thought about a Belle Epoque setting with a red and maroon palette. He thought about it as soon as Isabelle showed him the new winter-fall collection. Kurt has spent entire nights cuddled up on the couch, his sketchpad on his knees, as Rachel watched some movie or rehearsed her lines.

It hasn't been easy to bypass the envy of Isabelle's subordinates, but Kurt has trudged through it all. Sometimes the hard looks and acidic words whispered behind his back reminded him of his high school years. But this was the real world and amidst the beauties and fears of it all Kurt was chasing his dreams. Long gone was the time when he would shiver with terror and keep his gaze to the floor. And when Isabelle got his project and his sketches the smile that stretched her lips and the sparkling in her eyes was the best reward.

Jonas, the photographer, walks up to him, grinning.

"Good morning, mister H."

Kurt chuckles. He has liked Jonas since the very beginning – easygoing and absolutely in love with his job.

"Good morning. And be careful, I might decide to be an ass today."

Jonas fakes a gasp, eyes twinkling.

"Oh my, Kurt! What is this language!"

Kurt shrugs and grins. It feels good to joke around like this. After Rachel and Isabelle, Jonas is probably the person he's closest to here in New York. The first day Kurt was left on his own to coordinate a shoot it was Jonas who helped him through it. His patience never wavered and by the end of the work he dragged Kurt out for a drink that turned into way too many and Kurt having to sleep it off on Jonas' couch. It was so much unlike him that when Kurt woke up the following morning he felt uneasy in his own skin. But minutes later Jonas was crouching down in front of him, a big smile and a cup of steaming coffee and Kurt thought it wasn't so bad in the end.

"Have you seen the new model yet?"

"Wait, what new model? Isabelle didn't say anything about a new model."

Jonas nudges his shoulder as he goes back to the shooting location.

"Jonas, come back here!"

The photographer starts whistling and keeps walking. Kurt is about to go and look for Isabelle - who has disappeared God knows where – when Jonas' voice rings under the vaults of the passage – "Hey, Blaine. You ready?"

Who's Blaine? Kurt makes his way to the cluster of lights and panels. The voices of the people enjoying the warm weather, the sound of the water splashing in the fountain, all of it gets muffled when he lies his gaze on the new model. He is a bit on the short side, but with a trim waist and wide shoulders. He seems to have been born to wear the red velvet suit Kurt himself picked up for the shoot. The model – Blaine, Kurt's brain provides – is standing by the pillar, body relaxed as though he is completely at ease in his own element.

"..rt, Kurt!"

Jonas' voice makes him snap out of his thoughts and Kurt blinks.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

The knowing grin that pulls at Jonas' lips, make his cheeks grow hotter.

"I was just saying that if you wanted to fix something on him do it now so that we can get started."

Blaine looks at him and his eyes are impossibly huge, the color of golden whiskey. Kurt's mouth is suddenly dry and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He nods, more to clear his mind than to acknowledge what Jonas has just said. This is his job. He has already seen plenty of gorgeous men and he has never stopped being a professional. Why would this time be different?

Steeling himself, Kurt walks up to the model, who is already offering his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Kurt."

His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles and Kurt berates himself for even noticing such a detail. He takes Blaine's hand and little sparks ignites at the base of his spine at how warm and firm Blaine's hand is.

"The pleasure is all mine."

Blaine is definitely one of the nicest models Kurt has ever worked it. The fact that he remember his name just from listening to Jonas, the kindness of his words – Kurt can't help thinking he must be something special.

Behind him Jonas clears his throat. Kurt takes a deep breath and forces his hands to move. Once he finally touches the velvet Kurt slides back into his work mindset. Fingers moving quickly and efficiently to smooth wrinkles and adjust the lapels. Automatically they reach for Blaine's hair. Usually this is the job of the makeup artist, but Kurt prefers to take part in the preparations of the models. He spends so much time imagining the clothes they'll wear and the positions they'll stand or crouch or lie in that it only seems fair.

Blaine's hair has been styled into partial submission, but they still curl around Kurt's fingers as he rearranges them. Kurt tries hard to ignore the soft sound of Blaine's intake of breath when his fingers brush against his ear.

"So...uhm...ready to go."

Blaine nods and Kurt's fingers slide down to his neck with the sudden movement. Blaine's skin is smooth and almost unbearably warm. For a foolish instant Kurt wonders what it would taste like. Blaine's muscles shift under his fingertips and Kurt hastens to remove his hand.

"Sorry..."

"D-don't worry."

Something stirs inside of Kurt at the breathless tone in Blaine's voice, but he steps back quickly.

"Are we ready, then?"

Jonas looks at him, eyes alight with amusement and Kurt glares at him before nodding.

"Alright! Blaine would you move to the spot I showed you before?"

Kurt watches as Blaine moves and takes his position. Back against the wall, head tilted to the side facing the natural light of the sun. Curious bystanders are starting to gather as always, but the security guys are good and Kurt has eyes for Blaine only, anyways. He seems to be made of compact beauty. Shining in that body of his, in those eyes and in those lips.

"Can you, please, bend your left leg?" – Kurt surprises himself by speaking. He usually doesn't do this. He makes the project, he chooses the location and even gives the last adjustments to the models but that's it. This is Jonas' job and he is one of the best too. Kurt is about to apologize, but Blaine turns to look at him. Eyes darker than before, lips slightly parted. He doesn't say anything, simply lifts his leg. The suit's trousers stretch over his thigh in the process, the light catching on the red velvet.

"Like this?"

Voice rich like dark chocolate. Kurt has to force the words out.

"Yeah, like that."

Jonas is by Kurt's side, camera in hand.

"Good idea, Kurt. Isn't he a work of beauty?" – he whispers. Jonas is straight, Kurt knows it. He has met his girlfriend, for God's sake. And that's when he starts to suspect that the surprise Isabelle had in store might have been Blaine. Gorgeous Blaine, who's following Jonas' directions and looking straight at the camera now, arms wide and hands pressed against the wall behind him. He seems ready to take flight.

Time slips and slides away along with the firm sound of the camera's shutter echoing against the vaults. Blaine moves easily like water, face so expressive that a simple crease between his eyebrows gives a completely different taste to the picture. Jonas mutters under his breath that Blaine is one of the "best freaking models" he has ever worked with. Kurt remains silent, gaze focused on the strong outline of Blaine's biceps.

When Jonas calls a break it's like stumbling out of a trance.

"I-I'll go find Isabelle."

Jonas smirks.

"You do that. Oh and be back here soon. You've to help Blaine with the suit he has to wear next."

Kurt is sure his ears are red by now and quickly turns around and walks off in the direction of the fountain. The sunlight is cutting when he steps out from under the passage. He scans the area and spots Isabelle sitting on the fountain's edge, legs crossed and a cigarette between her fingers. She smiles up at him as he approaches, but Kurt is having none of that.

"So that was your surprise?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kurt sits down by her side. They are facing the passage and he can see Jonas talking with Blaine. He tries to ignore the way his pulse races as Blaine stretches himself, velvet tensing over toned arms and legs.

"But I see you're appreciating the eye-candy."

Isabelle is grinning at him when Kurt turns to face her. He knows all too well that lying to her is no use.

"You could have told me there was a new model."

"Well, technically Blaine isn't new at Vogue. We've worked with him before."

Kurt is pretty sure he would have remembered Blaine if he had met him in the four years he has been working at Vogue.

"I've never met him, though."

Isabelle blows up the smoke and tilts her head to the side.

"That would be because he has spent the last three years working in Italy."

It makes sense, then. During his first year at Vogue Kurt worked mainly as office assistant, helping with the website and the ever ringing phones. And Italy...Kurt has always dreamed to go one day, to see Rome and Venice and Florence. He casts a quick glance in Blaine's direction. His skin is tanned and his features warm. Kurt can totally picture him modeling for Armani or Gucci.

"Isn't he gorgeous?"

Kurt takes in Blaine's smile, his barely tamed curls.

"Yes."

It slips past his lips, his traitorous thoughts bypassing the filters he usually keeps up. Kurt keeps his gazed lowered, focused on his shoes. Isabelle slides her arm around his shoulders.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, baby. I knew you would appreciate him. And wait until you hear him sing!"

Kurt shakes his head. How is Blaine even real? And with that thought comes back the familiar pang behind his breastbone. The knowledge that no one as perfect as Blaine could ever look at him. It's not as though Kurt thinks to be ugly. He likes what he sees reflected in the bathroom mirror most of the times and he has always taken care of his body and his wardrobe. But that doesn't change the fact that he has never had a real boyfriend. Sure, he has had his fair share of experiences since he moved to New York. He has learned the way his body likes to be touched and how someone else's skin feels under his fingertips. But none of his stories lasted more than a couple of months. The spark wasn't there. There haven't been morning spent lazing out in bed and shared bathrooms. None of those guys met or talked to Burt.

"I can hear your brain overthinking, Kurt."

"It's not true, I..."

"I know you. And that's why I'm telling you to go for it."

Kurt is about to sputter out some retort when Jonas calls his name.

"Now off to work, baby. Models don't dress themselves."

"Isabelle!"

She winks and lights another cigarette. Kurt rolls his eyes at her and stands up.

"And remember, Kurt, you are amazing."

Her voice is soft and gentle. Kurt finds himself thinking that his mother might have had the same tone. He doesn't think he is nothing special, but he is immensely grateful for Isabelle's kind words and constant support.

"Thank you."

He doesn't turn as he walks back to the passage, but his step is a bit lighter and there's definitely a small smile pulling at his lips.

"It is about time. Blaine is getting changed behind the panels over there."

Kurt fights the urge to dry his palms against his trousers. He shouldn't be so nervous. Blaine is just a good looking model, as many others Kurt has worked with in the past few years, right? Kurt steels himself and walks behind the plywood panels.

Blaine is in the middle of buttoning up his shirt, but he lifts his gaze anyway. His eyes are truly breathtaking up close. They seem brown galaxies, flecks of gold twirling in them. He smiles, small and shy. So different from the sexy smirk he put on for the camera just few moments before. It is shockingly endearing.

The need to do something instead of standing there, staring like some star-struck teen is overwhelming. Kurt reaches for the bowtie hanging from the clothes rack. Black and white silk.

"Here."

Their hands brush and the bottom of Kurt's stomach threatens to fall out. Blaine ducks his head, a faint blush spreading on his cheeks.

"Thank you."

Kurt keeps his gaze focused on Blaine's fingers as he expertly knots the bowtie.

"So...Isabelle told me you've been in Italy?"

Blaine looks at him, eyes like caramel, quiet and intent.

"I've spent most of the past three years there, yes."

"Can I ask you where?"

Kurt clasps his hands behind his back. He really hopes he isn't making an idiot of himself.

"We moved around quite a bit. But I guess we stayed in Rome the most."

Blaine has finished tying his bowtie and automatically Kurt reaches for the jacket to help him in it. Once more Blaine smiles, eyelashes fluttering. Kurt comes to stand behind him as he shrugs the jacket on. He keeps his gaze on Blaine's nape instead than on the shifting of his shoulder blades under the shirt.

"I've always wanted to go to Italy."

It leaves him like a breath held too long. Blaine turns slightly, his eyes warm.

"I hope you'll get to go there one day."

It is such a simple thing to say, a normal courtesy. Yet, the kindness in Blaine's tone is sincere. It is a rare thing to find a kind soul in the fashion world. Models usually don't care much about him. They are used to people asking them to strike poses and to people helping them into expensive and extravagant clothes. They keep their thoughts to themselves, their eyes usually distant. Guarded. Blaine doesn't speak much neither, but there's a different kind of brightness and gentleness in his gaze. He is different somehow.

Kurt finds himself smiling as he adjusts the jacket over the breadth of Blaine's shoulders. His voice is a bit softer when he speaks.

"Here you go."

Blaine turns to face him. The height difference makes something warm slosh around in Kurt's stomach.

"Thank you again. You're not like the other set directors I've met, Kurt."

It is unexpected and Kurt struggles to understand what Blaine means. His uncertainty must show on his face because Blaine's hand is on his forearm, squeezing gently.

"Oh, I didn't mean in a bad way. I meant that you're really kind and helpful."

Relief bubbles along Kurt's veins.

"I'm glad that you think so. I wouldn't want to become one of those horrible people I've to work with on a daily basis."

He bites his lower lip, worried he said too much. And what is wrong with him today, anyway?

Blaine chuckles, eyes alight with mirth.

"I am sure you won't become one of them."

It feels good, this quiet conversation they have going on. It isn't something Kurt usually indulges in, especially when he is working or when he's around strangers. Blaine's smile, his warm voice make him feel at ease, though. It would be nice to remain here, behind these panels talking about Italy and looking into Blaine's eyes. Isabelle said something about Blaine singing and Kurt wants to ask, but he holds his tongue, because maybe it is too much.

Blaine shifts his weight from left to right, eyes big and lips tilted in an embarrassed smile.

"I...um...shall I go back in there?"

Kurt blinks, embarrassment making his skin prickle. He realizes he has no idea of how much time they have spent chatting. Blaine is probably bored to death and can't wait to be back on the other side of the panels, in front of the camera.

"Of course. I am sorry for keeping you so long."

Blaine shakes his head minutely.

"I loved talking to you. Maybe I'll catch you later?"

Kurt blinks. Blaine's voice is laced with something he can't exactly pinpoint. It makes him feel as though he is standing on his toes.

"Sure."

He watches as Blaine turns and disappears behind the makeshift panels. He takes a couple of deep breath before straightening his back and following him.

The rest of the photo shoot slides past easily. It is obvious that Blaine has been doing this job for years. He follows Jonas' direction effortlessly. To be in front of a camera seems to come to him as natural as breathing. Kurt looks at him and thinks that that is something he could never be able to do. It is one thing to have come to terms with your own body and appearance, another one is being comfortable enough to let other people focus on it.

~*~

Kurt hovers by the fountain. Shooting has just ended and Isabelle left him with a wink and a mouthed "let me know how it goes!" before disappearing headed to some mandatory happy hour. Kurt knows he could just wave his goodbye to Jonas and leave. His job is done for the day after all. Still he can't bring himself to do it. Blaine ducked behind the plywood panels as soon as Jonas said they had enough for the day. Maybe it is silly, but Kurt doesn't want to leave before having said goodbye to Blaine.

Jonas walks up to him, bags slung on his shoulders and smug grin in place.

"Enjoyed the shooting session today?"

"You're not going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Of course not. Especially considering how much more invested you seemed today."

"I always take my job seriously. You know that."

Jonas tilts his head to the side, the you-won't-fool-me-Kurt look crystal clear in his green eyes.

"That I know, but I've never seen you spending so much time around a model before."

He quirks his eyebrow, challenging Kurt to retort. He doesn't.

"Alright, you win."

Jonas literally whoops and Kurt can't help chuckling. He is so ridiculous and he is one of those people he had never imagined he could meet when he was still stuck in Lima.

"Well, I'll go then. I wouldn't want to impose on your time with your sweetheart."

"He is not my sweetheart!"

"Yeah sure."

Before Kurt can manage to come up with a retort, he is already walking away, his laughter mingling with the sounds of people talking all around. Kurt shakes his head. Has he been so obvious? Surely he is allowed to find someone attractive. It was normal and nothing out of the ordinary. What isn't normal is the way his breath stutters to a halt when he lifts his gaze and spots Blaine as he steps out of the passage and into the sun.

He is wearing a pair of skinny jeans, underneath the jacket Kurt can spot a vest and a red bowtie. He looks like he has just come out of one of Kurt's teenage dreams. The beauty is still there, of course, shining quietly and surely making people stop whatever they are doing to look at him all the time. Yet, to see Blaine in his own clothes feels like looking at him under a different light.

Kurt's heart slams against his ribcage as he lifts his hand and waves. Blaine stops and squints against the light.

"Hey. I thought you had left with Isabelle."

Kurt shrugs – he surely can't say he stayed back only to wish goodbye to Blaine.

"I just thought I'd enjoy a bit of light before the ride back home."

Blaine nods his understanding. He is standing right in front of Kurt now. There's still eyeliner on his eyelids.

"I'd love to keep you company, but I've a sound-check to run to."

Kurt tries really hard to swallow down the bubbling giddiness that Blaine's first words have caused.

"Indeed, Isabelle mentioned that you sing."

Blaine slides his fingers through the curls at his nape.

"Oh. She did? It's...well, I used to do that for a living."

"Singing?"

"I tried. Turned out I wasn't good enough to make a living off it in New York."

Kurt wants to ask, to know more, but Blaine shuffles his feet. He looks even younger like this and Kurt feels pulled towards him so much it is unsettling.

"When I arrived here I wanted to be a star on Broadway."

Something flashes deep in Blaine's hazel eyes. Kurt shifts on the fountain's edge. He never speaks about that time these days. He doesn't speak about that eighteen year-old boy who stumbled out of the underground and found himself immersed in traffic and lights and people.

"Why did you change your mind?"

This is unexpected too. People tend to nod their understanding when he brings up the topic – a foolish dream, of course, an impossible career. Blaine, though, looks at him – right at the center of him – his eyes serious and Kurt finds he doesn't have the right words to explain.

"I...well, I guess Vogue happened?"

Blaine tilts his head to the side, lips slightly pursed. Kurt hopes he won't ask more, won't push, because he has the feeling he would open up like a book under that gentle and attentive gaze.

"I see. I...I've got to go now. I'm sorry. I'd love to stay and talk to you."

The regret in his voice sounds so sincere that something inside of Kurt twists and knots. He stands up quickly. The tips of their shoes brush, they are so much closer than he envisioned.

"There's...no problem. I am sure we'll...meet again soon?"

Kurt can hear how breathless his voice is coming out, but there's nothing he can do about it. Blaine is standing too close and he is looking at him with those eyes of his.

"Sure. Working with you was a pleasure, Kurt."

Kurt can't help thinking that Blaine's hand feels incredibly good around his own.

"Likewise."

Blaine's smile lingers with Kurt even after Blaine himself has disappeared in the crowd.

~*~

The wine sloshes around in one of the cheap Ikea glasses Rachel and he bought when they first arrived in the city. Kurt keeps his gaze focused on the velvety red liquid and tries to ignore Rachel. It is definitely easier said than done.

"You know you'll have to surrender sooner or later."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

He takes a gulp of wine as Rachel scoots closer on the couch.

"C'mon, Kurt. You had that look when you got back home."

"What look?"

"The one you had for a week after you met Adam."

Kurt met Adam during his second week in New York, when he still hadn't started at Vogue and spent much of his time running after Carmen Tibidaux, trying to get an appointment. Adam was quirky and funny. Kurt had spent the week after their first casual encounter in the NYADA common area struggling with a heart that beat too fast. Rachel used to tell him he constantly looked dumbstruck. Adam was Kurt's real first kiss. Being with him was nice, it felt like taking a step out of a shell. But what Kurt felt for him seemed to stop on the surface. Romance, the real and big one, had always been part of Kurt's dreams for the future. Adam was kind and sweet, but the spark Kurt had always fantasized about wasn't there.

"I won't even dignify that with a response."

But Kurt knows that if he were to look at himself in the mirror that look would be there. He can feel it in the way his skin tingles at the mere thought of Blaine's curls, of his small shy smiles.

Rachel nudges his knee with her socked foot.

"I see right through you, Kurt. Remember that."

Kurt huffs out a laugh. Rachel is impossible sometimes, but she also makes his life so much happier. As she settles back against the cushions and focuses her attention on The Notebook, Kurt takes another sip of wine.

He usually prefers white wine, more delicate and less inebriating. Tonight he looks at the red liquid in his glass and thinks of Blaine. Beautiful, quiet, mysterious Blaine wrapped up in kindness and beauty. A warm fluttery feeling spreads to Kurt at the thought that with a bit of luck they'll meet again soon.