Author's note: This is totally inspired by Camunki doing spring-cleaning and finding stuff she'd written as a 13-year-old, with something written from a building's point of view. So yeah, here's this little mini 5+1 mini fic of when a building saw Kurt alone. I challenged myself to write it, and fit each section in her ask-box on tumblr (~500 characters), so it's super-short. I'm still laughing hysterically that I even wrote this. It's bordering on crackish. Maybe?

Also, I am moving my Glee fic over to American English - new fic will all be written with an abundance of z's and a lack of u's). (For consistency TWB will be staying with British spelling.

(TWB Chp 18 is halfway done - don't worry about me neglecting it!)

The first time it's snowing. It gathers in clumps on overhangs, architraves and moldings, and I feel nice and clean and my original color before it's all either washed off or made grey again from the smog of the city. It's the first time I notice him, bent over against the cold, a brightly striped scarf wrapped tight around his neck, hat pulled down so that his eyes are all that can be seen. He's clutching a coffee cup between his hands as if he's trying to draw the warmth into him.

The second time I can only recognize him because of the scarf. It's warmer now, and it's artfully draped around his neck and shoulders like some type of Christmas decoration. His head is held high, his eyes sweeping the street, walking briskly to keep up with the other humans, but he looks as if he wants to stop and stare and take things in a bit more than he can. He disappears into a throng of people and I wonder if I'll see him again.

When he uses one of my lower ledges to rest his foot so he can tie his shoelace I get a proper look at his face. He's a pretty man, and I've seen more than my fair share of pretty men in my time. When he's finished he pauses to look back at me, all the way up and around and I can tell an admiring glance when I see one. He lays a hand on my front, pats once, and then walks away.

He comes back in summer, brushes one of the ledges clear and sits down. He's smiling and drinking coffee again. It's the middle of the day and it's sunny, he's wearing sunglasses, and even though I can't see his eyes I can tell he's finally taking the time to appreciate the beauty of the street that he's in, his head turning slowly from right to left, heading moving up and down ever so slightly. I don't usually pay much attention to humans. But this one is special.

I start paying extra attention but I don't see him until the leaves start turning different colors and collecting around my foundations, tickling. He's striding down the street, wearing the same brightly colors stripy scarf that caught my attention the first time. He walks past me without even a perfunctory hello, which I feel hurt about for all of a second before he returns with a coffee and sits on what I now consider his ledge. When it starts to rain I wish that I could cover him, but he rushes away.

The next time I see him he isn't alone, he's tugging someone along behind him, looking excited. When they walk past and then return with steaming hot drinks, they both sit on his ledge, and whoever he has with him looks shy, a hand resting a scarce inch away from his gloved one. He is talking, a lot. The new one is listening, watching, and looks to where he points. When he isn't looking the new one watches him with old soulful eyes. He knows he is special too.

END