Kurt takes a long disgusted look down at the fuchsia leotard he's wearing, frowning at the way the skin-tight material leaves nothing to the imagination. He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, subtly trying to dislodge his never-ending Spandex wedgie, while covering his torso with his arms twisted in front of him, hands clasped together at his groin, to shield his body from view.

He isn't sure what he expected when he signed up for circus camp, but it sure as hell wasn't this. There are ten students total gathered underneath the big top of the Barnum and Bailey's Circus, and in some ways this is a dream come true. But it's also much bigger and much more terrifying than it looks from the bleachers. He didn't think that was a possibility, but looking up at the trapeze a hundred feet above his head, his stomach suddenly drops into his shoes.

Kurt looks around at the other students standing in the dirt, slightly more comfortable in better fitting and less offensively colored costumes. They're not fidgeting like toddlers who need to pee with perma-wedgies stuck in their cracks. He envies the guy in the emerald green leotard especially. It looks super-comfortable, and at least he won't be stopping air traffic if he steps outside.

That's what Kurt gets for arriving ten minutes late.

He hopes he doesn't miss the net and die doing this. He refuses to travel to the afterlife wearing this color.

“To be successful on the trapeze is to be fearless,” their burly instructor with the vague but heavy accent announces. “It is to laugh in the face of danger. It is to respect that gravity is not your friend - that it will try to crush you if it can.”

“Great,” Kurt mutters under his breath. “It's nice to know that 100 feet in the air, physics is conspiring to kill me.”

He hears a chuckle come from somewhere by his side. Without moving his head, he sweeps his eyes around to try and find its source, but he can't tell if it came from the blond man to his left with the severely massive lips, or the muscular brunette to his right with the curly hair and amazing hazel eyes.

He's hoping for the guy to his right.

“Now, we will pair off while we go over safety protocols and what not,” the instructor says, “so everybody, buddy up.”

Kurt doesn't want to leave his patch of dirt. He doesn't want anyone to see him in his hideous costume. He doesn't want anyone to touch him while he's got Lycra stuffed up his butt. He looks up again at the trapeze overhead, but it seems to stretch farther up toward the point of the tent, rising insanely out of reach.

“Whoa there,” the chuckling voice says. Before Kurt can turn in its direction, he sees the tent spin, orange and red vertical stripes twisting around one another. Calloused hands grab his arms, holding him steady. “Don't need you fainting before you're even in the air.” Kurt didn't know he had started swaying until he stops. He regains his balance but not so much his flip-flopping stomach.

Kurt looks away from the elevated swing and locks eyes with the muscular brunette. His gaze travels from the man's smiling face to his bulging biceps, then down the length of his body. Kurt doesn't mean to be rude, but he can't help himself. The man holding Kurt upright in his arms happens to be gorgeous in a rugged, salt-of-the-earth, works-with-his-hands-for-a-living kind of way. He's the type of man you see on the cover of cheesy Harlequin Romance novels.

Who knew that men like that actually existed in real life?

Kurt takes in the rest of the man's body, but when he notices what he's wearing, Kurt frowns.

“Hey, how did you get permission to wear jeans?” Kurt groans, crossing his arms even tighter across his chest.

“Oh, well, the instructors get permission to wear what they want, within reason,” the man says with a laugh. He lets go of Kurt and takes a step back, extending a hand in introduction. “Blaine Anderson.”

“Uh… I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel.” Kurt looks down at Blaine's hand, then down at his own hands gripping tight at his elbows, unwilling to yield just yet. Blaine seems to understand, opting to pat Kurt on the upper arm instead of shaking his hand. Blaine gives Kurt's arm a squeeze that sends chills throughout his entire body. Man but he is strong.

“Kurt Hummel,” Blaine repeats, giving Kurt a brief once-over of his own. “Are you afraid of heights, Kurt?” Blaine asks, sending a look up to the trapeze where the first pair of student/instructor was going over the set-up of the swing. A few of the more advanced students had already begun taking to the air.

“Maybe more afraid of falling than of heights, per se,” Kurt explains. Blaine nods, beckoning Kurt away from the spot where they're standing, too close the safety net now that class has begun.

“Well, I applaud you for making it this far,” Blaine says. “A lot of students back out after the gravity is trying to crush you part.”

“Yeah?” Kurt looks around and notices that the crowd is noticeably a bit thinner, which is why several instructors have doubled up with some of the more nervous students.

“So, if you're afraid of heights…I mean, falling…why did you sign up for the flying trapeze?” Blaine asks, tilting his head and peering at Kurt as if Kurt is a riddle that Blaine's trying to figure out.

“A…friend recommended it,” Kurt responds, setting his lips in a firm line, leaving it at that.

It was only a little white lie.

The friend was actually his therapist.

Kurt had thought that leaving Lima, Ohio, and moving to New York would also mean leaving all his troubles behind him. Unfortunately, one or two followed, and after he settled in, a whole crop of new ones sprung up to join them.

His boyfriend cheated on him.

His stepbrother passed away.

His father won his battle with heart disease just to be diagnosed with prostate cancer.

He got beaten up badly trying to save a stranger's life.

After that, Kurt couldn't sleep. He couldn't relax. He avoided leaving his loft whenever possible. He decided to start seeing someone to help him work through his issues, and she recommended trying new things, facing his fears, taking a leap.

Kurt might have taken her a little too literally.

“It's been a really difficult year for me,” Kurt admits even though Blaine doesn't outright ask. “There are a lot of things I'm trying to overcome. Heights…” Kurt looks up at the beginner students starting their hands at swinging overhead, “is the tip of the iceberg.”

Blaine's face changes from the expression of casual flirting that he usually wears to warm new students up to the thought of flying to one of genuine awe.

“If this is the smallest fear on your list,” he says, “then you are by far the bravest person I've ever met.”

Kurt smiles and ducks his eyes, doing his best not to blush at Blaine's compliment.

“I don't know about that,” Kurt says. A body hits the net and Kurt jumps back, nearly landing right into Blaine's arms. “In fact, I'm beginning to have second thoughts. Falling…is not my favorite feeling…”

Kurt realizes when he says it that falling can mean so many different things, and he bites his lower lip to stop talking before he makes a fool of himself. It's not that Blaine wouldn't eventually be able to guess his meaning. Adding to his long list of heartbreaks, Kurt had also just left a rebound relationship that lasted only a few months and had always been on rocky ground. He wears the pain of both break-ups quite clearly on his face. It's a difficult thing for him to hide.

Blaine is still staring at him, but Kurt's eyes move instead to the man in the emerald green leotard being helped out of the net, red-faced and taking deep breaths while his partner tries to convince him to go back up.

“I know you don't know me from Adam,” Blaine says, recapturing Kurt's gaze, “but don't worry…” Blaine holds out his hand for Kurt to take, “I won't let you fall.”

Kurt stares at Blaine's hand. He really wants to take it, he can feel his body move toward it, but he can't, and when he doesn't, Blaine takes a step closer.

“If you let me help you overcome this fear of yours,” Blaine says in a low voice, “I'll take you out for coffee.”

Kurt feels drawn in by Blaine's eyes. Something in them resonates with Kurt – something that feels slightly familiar.

If Blaine takes Kurt out for coffee, he might end up helping Kurt get over another fear – one farther down on his long list, one that he didn't think he would even consider overcoming for a while.

The fear of opening up to someone new.

Kurt opens his mouth to answer, but the man in the emerald green leotard yells something incoherent – words in a language other than English. He raises his hands in frustration and brushes his instructor aside, stomping through the dirt and heading toward the exit of the tent.

“Snag me his leotard,” Kurt says with a grin, “and you've got a deal.”