A/N - So it's Klaine week! Yay! Start of the seven drabbles (one for every day this week) that I'll be writing for Klaine Week. This is just something short and sweet and I'll probably have to up the rating for later parts, but it's K for this part! Have Fun! And of course Klisses!x

When Summer Was Pink And Orange

Sometimes, when his Mom wasn't too busy typing on her computer or shouting at people on the phone, Blaine would get to visit her dress store. That meant sitting patiently on the plush, purple velvet couches watching pretty girls twirl around in long, flowing dresses of every colour imaginable, squealing in delight when they found 'the perfect one'.

Usually by that time, his Mom was flushed pink and smiling through gritted teeth, throwing herself down beside him and sighing like his Dad did when he came home at night. But Blaine could tell that she was happy. At the end of the day, she'd scoop him up into her arms, scold him fondly for slipping sweeties into his pocket from the jar beside the cash register and kiss him on the forehead.

Most of Blaine's happiest memories of being a four-year old came from the florally, sweet scent of his Mom's shop. His favourite times though were when the customers brought their children in with them because he then had new friends to play with. Friends to show the little gap in his mouth from losing his first tooth and the wicked bruise on his knee from playing 'Superman' on his bed. Friends to talk about the pretty dresses to and laugh when their parents shushed them for being too loud.

The boy with the bowtie had been different.

He'd come in with his mother, just like every other little kid. The tinkling bell signalling their arrival hadn't been enough to pull Blaine's head up from the new animal colouring book his Grandma had bought him. While he'd busily been fussing over whether the giraffe's top hat should be bright orange or candy pink, his Mom had breezed through from the back room to welcome them.

"And if you want to check out our summer selection, you can just leave your little boy over by the couches; my son is quite hospitable as long as your son doesn't mind being told the tale of 'The Great Flying Bruise'." She said happily and Blaine looked up at the mention of himself.

And quickly dropped the orange crayon. He had never seen someone so pretty before. Not even the girl with blonde hair piled on her head wearing the shocking white wedding dress that his Mom had spent fourteen weeks on – he could count up to thirty now.

Brilliant blue eyes stared at him under fringes of dark lashes and Blaine felt his mouth widen slowly. His skin was so pale that it looked like the moonlight that filtered into his room when he was tucked up in bed at night. Wavy brown bangs covered him forehead and he clutched his mother's hand tightly as they made their way over to where he was sitting.

A part of Blaine wanted to get up and introduce himself but the other part wouldn't kick start into action. So he just sat there, holding the crayon limply as the boy's pretty mother pressed a quick kiss to his nose and made her way over to Blaine's mother.

He didn't know what to do, it was as if every bit of his inquisitive personality ceased to exist and the boy was still just watching him carefully, absentmindedly playing with the corner of his blue shirt.

Awkwardly, the boy cast his eyes around the shop, evidently waiting for Blaine to say something so that they could whitter away the few minutes that they had before his mother came back.

Unfortunately for him, Blaine's throat had decided that it would become as dry as sandpaper and his mind thought that it could just chuck all of his knowledge of words out of the window.

"Wouldn't pink have gone better with the giraffe's shoes?" the boy asked quietly and Blaine felt his cheek's bloom with colour. His voice was pretty too. Soft and smooth and rising in pitch because he wasn't sure if he was being rude or not. Why was Blaine scared of him? There was nothing to be scared of, it was just another kid who was being dragged along dress shopping.

He cleared his throat quickly and said brightly, "I thought that but then I think that the giraffe's wanted to look like a tiger today. The tiger's are his friends, you know"

He didn't even think about what he was saying, or how strange the boy must have thought he was, but it made him smile, a smile so dazzling and full of laughter that it made something in Blaine's chest hurt. He realised then that all he ever wanted to do was make him smile.

"I like tigers. But bird's are my favourite animal. The colourful ones. Like flamingos. I like them." The boy scooted closer to him and carefully picked up the discarded pink crayon, holding it up carefully, as if inspecting it.

After he nodded and smiled to himself, Blaine knew that he was testing it to see if it was the right colour for a flamingo. He bit back a smile and quickly flipped the pages of the book until he found the right image and twirled it around to face the other boy.

The boy looked down at the picture happily and let out a little puff of air before glancing back up hopefully at Blaine with those big blue eyes, "May I?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak in case he said something that might ruin that happy smile. He watched in amazement as the boy began to stroke colour onto the rough paper, watched his tongue peek out from behind pink lips in concentration and the way he flopped himself onto his stomach so that he was comfier.

Blaine didn't know why he did it, but he reached out silently to fold down the back of the boy's collar that had upturned itself to show the strap of the black bowtie he was wearing, and felt fireworks shoot up his fingers as he accidentally brushed against the warm skin at the back of the boy's neck.

Pulling his hand away quickly in shock he stared again at him, and was startled to find him staring back up at him, pink blotches forming on his cheeks.

"Do you go to my preschool?" Blaine asked, trying to break the silence that surrounded them, but really just wanting to hear his voice again.

The boy shook his head, "I don't live here. I live in Lima, that's in Ohio. My Mom and I came here for a dress for my Aunt's wedding because she heard that this shop – your Mom's? – was the best place."

Blaine wondered why the boy's face fell slightly when he said he lived in Lima. Or why Blaine's stomach hurt when he figured out that he was never going to see the boy again.

He had to find out the boy's name. He couldn't leave without knowing that he had a friend in Blaine.

"My na-"

But he never got the chance to finish as, just at that moment, the boy's Mom came back over and whisked him off the floor, tutting at his wrinkled clothing, but smiling happily with a bright purple bag swinging from her shoulder as she conversed loudly with Blaine's own mother.

The boy turned in his mother's arms to look back at him sadly and mouthed something that Blaine couldn't make out over the women's voices and the background music of the store. A deep feeling of unhappiness flowed through him and Blaine almost shouted at the woman to let the boy go, but remembered that he was in his Mom's shop and that he wasn't to be a nuisance to the customers otherwise he wouldn't be allowed to come back.

So Blaine slumped his shoulder's in defeat and watched as his new friend was carted away out of the shop, giggling happily at whatever his mother was telling him. Did the boy not feel like he'd been punched in the gut too? Did he not miss Blaine already?

"I know you must be bored Blaine but Cooper's coming to take you home, then you'll get to have some fun!" His Mom said, misreading his posture for impatience, and floating away to the back room again, humming the little 'sale song' that she had.

Blaine couldn't tell his Mom that he had been happy just then with the little boy who had managed to make him hurt in places he didn't think he could hurt. He didn't even know his name. How could you be friends with someone without even knowing their name?

The bell tinkled again and for a fleeting moment, Blaine was filled with hope thinking that it was the boy coming back to tell him his name. But it was just his big brother, running a hand through unruly hair and running to pick Blaine up and twirl him around his head, laughing as the orange crayon became lodged up his nose.

He didn't tell Cooper about the boy. Not for years. The boy was his, only his and no one could tarnish that memory. No one could take away the fact that Blaine had made him smile. No one made his heart pound the way he had either.

Blaine would grow up to learn what that meant, but for now he was contented just to know that somewhere out there – in Lima – was the little boy with the beautiful blue eyes and the bowtie and the impossibly large smile.

Out there, there was happiness.