Opening Night

Blaine sat in his dressing room and took a deep breath. This was it, his first lead role on Broadway. He was playing, ironically, Tony in West Side Story. The surfaces were littered with gifts from family and friends. Flowers sitting in multiple vases adding colour to the otherwise drab room.

There was a knock at his door and he called for whoever it was too come in.

“Another bunch Blaine,” Emma, one of the theatres assistants said holding a large bunch of flowers in her arms. “No name on these though, do you know who they’re from,” she asked. Blaine took the flowers from her, looking first at the card, which only had his name on, before looking at the flowers. Most of them were red carnations but in the centre sat one red rose. Blaine smiled softly.

“My secret admirer,” he answered Emma.

“Oh?”

“Every show I’ve ever done, even when I was just chorus, I’ve always received one red rose anomalously. Never worked out who it is and believe me I’ve tried. I guess now I’m the lead I get more flowers,” he explained, gently running a finger across the petals of the rose.

“That’s kind of creepy,” Emma said. Blaine laughed and shrugged.

“Maybe but it’s only ever been flowers on opening night, that’s hardly dangerous.” Emma shook her head at him and left.

*

The show went well and Blaine was met with a standing ovation as he took his curtain calls. He smiled and blew kisses to the audience before heading off stage for the night. He was still buzzing with adrenaline.

In a blur he removed his make-up and changed into street clothes before heading out too meet the fans who had gathered at stage door. It was a frenzy, he smiled and signed for what felt like an age before he finally managed to collapse in the back seat of his car.

When he reached his bed that night he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

*

At the theatre the next day he sat listening to critic reports and entertainment columns being read out to the cast. They were all good and many had very complimentary things to say about his performance. Blaine’s jaw was started ache from all the grinning but he couldn’t stop.

“The opening night was attended by a few familiar faces,” the director was reading an article from an entertainment website. “Star of the hit US show Faces, Cooper Anderson showed up to support his younger brother. Giants quarter back, Mark Styles was showing his support for girlfriend Amy Miller.  Also present was Broadway’s sweetheart Rachel Berry attending with long-time friend and rising star in the fashion world, Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine didn’t hear the rest of the article, he couldn’t get past the fact that Kurt had come to his opening night. Kurt Hummel the love of his life, yes he was aware it was pathetic that he was still in love with his high school sweetheart, had come to see him. There was no way Kurt hadn’t known Blaine was in the show, his name was in bold letters outside of the theatre. Maybe Rachel had dragged him along, which did seem likely but something told Blaine Kurt had come because he wanted too. Maybe it was naïve hope.

*

Naïve hope was definitely what led Blaine to this position on his day off.

“Can I help you sir?” The receptionist asked.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Kurt Hummel,” Blaine said, glancing around the swanky offices Kurt had managed to get for himself. Blaine was beyond proud of him.

“Do you have an appointment?” Blaine almost snorted at the question because honestly it was so clique.

“No, tell him Blaine Anderson’s here to see him.” The receptionist raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him but didn’t move to call through to her boss. “I have nothing to do today except sit here and wait for Kurt, so you may as well call him,” Blaine added, because seriously if he left now he wouldn’t have the guts to come back. 

Looking thoroughly pissed off the receptionist picked up the phone and pressed one button. Blaine hoped it was for Kurt, not security.

“There’s a rather stubborn man named Blaine Anderson who wants to see you sir,” she said into the receiver. A beat. “Blaine Anderson,” she repeated his name the pulled the phone away from her ear with a wince. Blaine had to stifle a laugh because Kurt had clearly just shrieked at her. She pressed the phone back to her ear and listened to whatever Kurt was saying now. “Yes sir,” she put the phone down. “Mr Hummel, will see you now,” she said bitterly. Blaine smiled a thanks, a followed the corridor she pointed down.

The door at the end opened and Kurt stood there, looking as good, if not better, than he always had. He was smiling which was encouraging. When Blaine reached him he stood back, allowing Blaine to enter. Neither spoke until they were both seated on opposite sides of Kurt’s desk.

“You came to my opening night,” Blaine said by way of an opening.

“I did,” Kurt answered. “You were fantastic but then you always were.” Blaine closed his eyes at the sound of Kurt’s voice. He breathed in and he realised he could smell Kurt. Oh how he’d missed this man.

“Thank you,” he said politely, opening his eyes again.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt replied formally. Blaine watched him for a second and Kurt watched him back. He decided to go out on a limb.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he said the held his breath, hoping against hope he wasn’t wrong. Kurt blinked surprised for a second, then laughed.

“So you finally figured it out.”

“I have now,” Blaine answered, smiling. “How did you always know when my opening night was?” he asked.

“New Directions have always been gossips. The news always got back to me. I’m glad it did. I’ve never missed an opening night,” Kurt revealed.

“I have every article ever written about your work in a scrap book,” Blaine confessed before he could stop himself. Kurt smiled softly at him.

Checking the clock Kurt sighed sadly. “I’m sorry Blaine, I have a meeting now,” he said.

“Oh sorry, of course.” The pair stood up and Blaine moved to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle and turned back to look at Kurt.

“Kurt? Are you single?” he asked quickly before he could rethink it. Kurt looked surprised.

“Yes,” he answered simply but raised an eyebrow in question.

“Good,” Blaine replied, “would you like to have dinner with me? As a date.”

“Yes,” Kurt replied, a soft smile gracing his face.