Coughs welled up in his throat as he pulled the back door open. He had to let it fall back closed to finish his coughing fit, so violent that he had drop his guitar case, which cracked open, spilling out sheet music, guitar picks and his squashed, half empty box of cigarettes.
“You really should quit.” A voice from behind approached and began to collect his thing. Still hunched over, he saw dark boots that laced up into deep gray pants overlapping with a soft gray sweater into just off-white skin. “I mean: I’m one to talk, but still. You’ve got a nice voice; I’d hate to see it hooked up to an oxygen tank.” His guitar case clicked close as he picked himself back up and looked up to see the helpful stranger, but through his watery eyes only saw the progression of the grayscale from head to foot, from black boots to a pure white hat pulled down over his ears protecting him from the cold Chicago air.
“I’m trying to, but it keeps me warm.” He offered as he took his guitar case back. “Thank you.” He pushed open the door and allowed the other man into the little coffee shop where he liked to play. “Plus all my castmates always share packs, and take their breaks together. I guess it’s just part of showbiz?” He laughed, water cleared from his eyes to see the bright blue stars staring back at him with wonder.
“So you come here often?”
“Yes, just on weekends, to do homework. You know how it is with sexually active roommates.” The boy shrugged with a laugh and he just stared at how easily he spoke, like the way a piano fills silent air, the way that a cookie gets soaked in milk. His black boots pulled back and kicked forward lightly on the concrete ground and asked:
“You still in school?”
“Yeah I’m a Junior in DePaul’s Theatre program. You?”
“Oh, I’m at DePaul too. Peace, Justice and Conflict Studies. Well, I guess at such a big school you don’t get to meet everyone right away. Well, it’s nice to meet the man behind the music. I’m Kurt.” He offered his hand to shake.
“Blaine.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you on stage.”
“I’ll see you in the audience.” Kurt bit his lip and laughed, his tongue flicking up to his upper lip as his eyes scrunched with laughter. He waved goodbye and walked away with light, firm feet; Blaine’s heart swelled in his ears like a fast metronome. He set his guitar case on an empty table right by the stage and opened it flipping through different pieces of sheet music before he found what he was looking for. His eyes scanned over it roughly, examining the chords and recalling the movement of his fingers and the pace of the lyrics for a song he hadn’t played in what felt like years. But it just felt so perfect for right now, it didn’t really matter. He stepped up to the elevated surface and grabbed his guitar by the neck, pulling it out and wrapping the red, white and green strap around his shoulder. He looked out to see Kurt staring down at a thin purple binder, striking through the page with a yellow highlighter while an open steaming cup sat open, the wisping heat curling into the air and then evaporating into the constant aroma of coffee beans. Blaine smiled down at his guitar and began to tune it, the strings filling right into the long pressed callouses on his hand and the longer nails on his right hand plucking and strumming until he heard that perfect harmony of soft chatter and slips and gulps of coffee and laptops clicking and empty eyes staring at a book and C and G and A minor and F over and over again.
“Um, hello.” Blaine rose his voice and Kurt’s mouth curved into a smiled as he looked up and Blaine smiled back. He had taken off his white hat to reveal his roan hair, the soft brown accentuated with hints of red in the soft mood lighting of the coffee store. A few others looked at him, but for the most part, they attended their activities while Blaine continued. “Um…this song is called Coffee and Cigarettes.” As he began to strum, Kurt capped his highlighter and placed it on the paper. He watched intently, his eyes flicked up and down Blaine’s body and across his guitar, and to his face, where he smiled kindly and his creamy chees grew rosy, warm pink, a splash of color in the gray scale.

Coffee and cigarettes are my only escape
I got my cup of Joe, my pack of smokes
And I’m on my way downtown
To set up shop and sing my cares away
So won’t you sing with me cause it’s cold outside
and I’m feeling kinda lonely.

Friday nights are always the same in this town
I’m looking up, but I’m feeling kind of down
So I light this cigarette and smoke the night away
In hopes that Saturday will be the day
Where everything feels okay

Blaine continued to sing, swaying lightly with the rhythm while Kurt cocked his head to the side and his bright blue eyes grew soft and warm like the feeling of a fresh cup of coffee in his hands, except all over Blaine’s body.

Coffee and cigarettes are best when shared with you
We’ll go to waffle house or your mom’s house
And share a cup or two
Yeah I have friends, but they have friends
And they have parties but I’m so awkward
So what do you say that just as friends, we see a movie this weekend:
Alright? Okah-ay?

Friday nights are always the same in this town
I’m looking up, but I’m feeling kind of down
So I’ll light this cigarette and smoke the night away
And I hope that Saturday will be the day
When everything feels okay.

“I’m—uh—I’m trying to quit smoking.” A few small, distant claps sounded, just like between every song, the polite, customary thank you. But applause doesn’t pay rent. A couple people toward the front threw coins or singles into his guitar case, some packing up and leaving, refusing eye contact. Blaine called out thank you to them and they waved as they exited. Kurt folded his binder closed and moved up to one of the very front tables.
“Are there any requests in the audience?” Kurt’s elbow prop on the table and his hand curled down, a soft smile still glimmering from his eyes.
“Do you know any Katy Perry?” Blaine beamed at him, placing a capo over a section.
“Do I ever!” He strummed his guitar, a new, bright poppy vibrato pushing into the air, into the mix of coffee beans and turning pages and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Blaine quite deliberately sang to Kurt, ignoring the rest of the audience because once his eyes flashed over to the bright blue, they fixed together, like a couple of lost puzzle pieces, finally found.