Just Another Night
Chapter 1
Kurt Hummel is sitting in the back seat of a taxi alone, staring out at the blinding New York lights that are flying past him. Being alone never bothers him, not here. His second audition for NYADA has secured him a place in the prestigious performing arts school, and he is determined to grasp this opportunity with every ounce of him. He misses Ohio sometimes…the phrase big fish in a small pond springs to his mind occasionally, making him uncomfortable. He is determined to swim though, now that he has finally reached the ocean. And he doesn't need anyone to help him with that. At least, this is what he tells himself.
At the exact same time, across the river in a dive bar in Manhattan, Blaine Anderson is drunk. A pretty brunette girl is draped shamelessly around his shoulders, her hands stroking the leather of Blaine's jacket, the same one he has worn for six years. His days with the Dalton Academy Warblers are truly behind him, and Blaine likes to pretend that he has found himself. And perhaps he has. He gently lifts the girl's arms from his shoulders and walks surprisingly steadily towards the smoking area of the dingy bar. He lights up a cigarette and sits down in the empty courtyard. His head falls to his hands, and he sighs heavily.
With all the millions of people in New York, and in the world, who wouldn't be surprised to learn that these two people are on each other's minds? Not just now, but frequently. Now especially, though. I guess there's just something about New Year's Eve that brings out the sentimental side of people.
*Two years previously*
Blaine was standing at a bus stop in Lima, Ohio at 3am on a Friday night when he first saw him. Breathless and frazzled, the boy's run slowed down gradually until he halted right across the road from Blaine, clearly believing himself to be alone. He sat down on the steps opposite Blaine, put his head in his hands and breathed a deep sigh. He wasn't sure what made him do it – he wasn't in the habit of befriending fashionable teenage boys who appeared to be on the verge of breakdown- but Blaine stepped out of the shadows and cleared his throat.
The boys head darted up, and looking like a helpless animal, he struggled to his feet. Blaine felt a laugh rise in his throat, and barely concealed it. The boy stepped into the light from the street lamp in front of him and for the first time, Blaine got a proper look at him. His chestnut brown hair was miraculously still perfectly styled, even after what had evidently been a frantic chase. He had the palest skin Blaine had ever seen. Ivory, he thought first, before another word forced its way into his mind…porcelain. That was it. His brown eyes were wide with inexplicable fear and as he had predicted, he was dressed remarkably well. Not quite to Blaine's style, admittedly… the skinny trousers and fitted black blazer were certainly a sharp contrast to Blaine's faded leather jacket and scruffy grey jeans. While Blaine was busy analysing him, the boy spoke.
"Who are you?" he asked, his false bravado not quite matching the high-pitched tone of his voice. Blaine grinned in spite of himself.
"Sit down, kid. Relax. Whoever's out to get you tonight, it's not me".
Blaine crossed the road and sat down on the steps beside the boy, taking a crumpled cigarette packet out of his pocket and lighting up. Offering one to the traumatized boy who was standing arms crossed in front of him proved to be a mistake, as he made a disgusted face and rolled his eyes impatiently, taking in Blaine's unkempt black curls and general appearance.
"If you keep eyeing me up like that though, we'll have a problem". Blaine winked playfully and indicated for the boy to sit down beside him. He wasn't expecting him to, but for some reason he sat down, arms still crossed, knees hunched up in search of some warmth. Amused, Blaine held out a hand in mock politeness.
"Well, one of us has to maintain some common courtesy" he began, grinning at the rosy-faced teenager. "Hi, I'm Blaine Anderson and I'll be your saviour for tonight, would you like to pay by cash, card or in sexual favours?"
Blaine watched as the boy took in his words. It was evident that this boy was gay…everything about him screamed Madonna. What interested Blaine was this kid's reaction to Blaine's revelation. His eyes widened for a second and then quickly slanted, and he looked away in disdain.
"Mhmm, funny. Hilarious. Please just leave me alone, I don't need this".
The boy began to dial a number in his phone before Blaine put a hand out to stop him.
"Hey wait kiddo, I'm sorry. It wasn't a joke, I meant it wholeheartedly, dollface. In all seriousness though…what's your name?".
Blaine looked at this pale-skinned, unresponsive boy and wondered why he was even bothering to find out his name.
"I wasn't trying to offend you, I swear", was the next sentence which fell almost innvoluntarily from his lips, and the boys eyes snapped up to meet his.
"It's Kurt", he replied, much to Blaine's surprise. "Kurt Hummel".
Blaine breathed a faint laugh and muttered "of course" under his breath. Of all the random strangers to come bursting, red-faced and breathless, into his life at 3am on a Friday night, it would be someone named Kurt Hummel. He stood up, put out his cigarette with a scuffed black Doc Marten and held out a hand, just as the blinding lights of the 66A rounded the corner.
"Well, Kurt Hummel, let's get you home".