If not for the bass thundering through the brick walls, the building wouldn't have passed for a club. There's no neon sign, or bouncer, or line of people waiting to get inside. Instead there is a logo painted on the door, and a small rainbow flag fluttering just above it. Kurt likes this place because it's not as intimidating as the huge, warehouse-like clubs packed with perfectly sculpted men. The music is always too loud and too fast, the dancing too close and sweaty. Kurt prefers to sit down and take his time.
He blows into his cupped hands as he crosses the street toward the club, warming them in the crisp New York air. Pushing against the door, the music pours out onto the street like water and Kurt is engulfed. Inside the club might actually be darker than outside, with its dim lights making everything look blue. The dance floor in the middle of the open room has a healthy amount of people on it, but there's enough room to move around. A few couples occupy the booths in the back, their activities concealed by shadow.
Kurt heads to the bar on his right. He hoists himself onto a cushiony leather stool and taps his fingers against the fluorescent counter. Behind all of the bottles is a large mirror, and Kurt looks up to see that his hair is a little... askew. Running his hands over his head to fix it, he glances over to the other patrons to see if they noticed. They appear to be absorbed in their drinks and conversations, and Kurt relaxes.
It's the first time he's relaxed all day.
The bartender is a scruffy man in a flannel shirt who looks rather out of place among the suits and yuppies he serves, but his drinks are impeccable. Kurt can never remember his name, despite the fact that they tend to make conversation whenever he visits.
"Can I get a manhattan?" Kurt asks.
Without a word, the bartender takes out a couple bottles and begins to mix his drink. Kurt takes a deep breath and looks into the mirror again, not at himself, but at the dance floor behind him. The selection is good tonight. Gorgeous guys in their twenties and thirties groove to some revamped disco, having the time of their lives. Kurt squints, searching for someone who's itching for a partner. There's a soft clink as the bartender sets his drink on the counter, and Kurt picks it up, his eyes not leaving the mirror.
"If you turn around," says the bartender, "you can get a better look at the kid who's been staring at since you walked in the door."
Kurt blinks and makes a face at him, but the bartender only gestures to the other side of the club. Taking a sip of his drink, Kurt spins around on his stool and peers out at the dancers for whoever this guy might be.
Across the floor is a guy about Kurt's age, sitting at a hightop table and sipping his drink through a straw. He blinks and smiles when Kurt catches his eye, revealing a set of very nice teeth. Kurt always appreciates a good set of teeth. Sliding off the stool, Kurt makes his way over to him.
In his seat at the hightop, he looks down at Kurt like a bird from its perch. He has a dreamy, old fashioned quality about him, with his dark hair gelled and combed back a little too much. Kurt finds it endearing.
"I'd offer to buy you a drink," he says, holding up his manhattan, "but it looks like we're both taken care of."
He smiles. "I suggest skip that step and move right on to the next. My name's Blaine."
He takes Blaine's hand and gives it s quick shake. "Kurt."
The song changes, and the new beat calls to Kurt. He glances over to the floor, hoping Blaine takes the hint. Thankfully, he does.
"Well, Kurt." He says, hopping of of his chair. "May I have this dance?"
Taking a last swig and setting his drink onto the table, Kurt grins. "Of course."
Kurt lets Blaine lead him onto the dance floor, taking the time to get a better look at him. He's a little short, but he has broad shoulders and slender waist. The arm Kurt clings to is lightly muscled, which makes him think that Blaine's chest is probably just as pleasing.
Blaine spins him around when they reach the center of the floor, surrounded by other dancers. Laughing, Kurt pulls Blaine in closer and begins to move to the beat. After such a stressful day, dancing seems to smooth out Kurt's tangled nerves. He wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders and lets himself get lost in the sound. For the three minute, thirty second duration of the song, the world is only them.
He leans against Blaine when the music stops, dizzy from endorphins and alcohol. Blaine laughs and brings him back to the bar. Kurt holds up two fingers to the bartender, who nods and proceeds to fix them more drinks.
"You seem like you needed that." Blaine says, pulling himself up onto a stool.
Kurt does the same and nods. "I had an audition today. I needed to get it off my mind."
"You're an actor?" Blaine asks. Their drinks arrive, and Blaine holds his up.
"Trying to be," says Kurt, clicking his glass against Blaine's. "I go to NYADA."
"NYU."
They sip at the same time. Kurt licks his lips, his heart pounding with the same giddy nervousness that comes with performance. He can't think of a time where he picked a guy up at a bar. Most of his dates are arranged in coffee shops or cafes. This is new, exciting, and admittedly a little dangerous. But Blaine, with his big eyes and easy smile, doesn't look like he could hurt a fly.
Kurt hopes he won't regret this when he leans forward and whispers in Blaine's ear.
Something ceramic tumbles to the floor in Kurt's apartment when they bump into a table in their attempt to find his bedroom in the dark while also making out. Blaine lets out a giggle and Kurt suppresses his own laughter, bringing a finger up to Blaine's mouth to shush him. He listens for any sign of Rachel being awake. Met with silence, Kurt pulls his finger away and kisses Blaine again. Blaine's mouth opens under the pressure, and he begins to slide his hands up Kurt's shirt.
Breaking the kiss, Kurt smiles at him in the dark and pulls him by the arm towards the general direction of his room. They bump into another wall, and Kurt has to feel around for a minute to find the doorknob, but they manage to make it inside. Blaine closes the door behind them, pushing it slow enough so that it only makes a soft click.
Kurt reaches for his lamp, knocking over what might be a picture frame. He grasps at the air for the switch until his fingers brush against it. A warm, soft light fills the room when he turns it on, and Blaine takes a step forward to look around. The room is small, just like the rest of the apartment, but it's decorated with all the things Kurt loves; from playbills to issues of Vogue, to pictures of his family and friends. His eyebrows raise when he sees a photo of Kurt and Rachel in their GaGa outfits pinned to a cork board.
"That's old," Kurt says, scratching the back of his neck. "It was for a thing in glee club in high school."
Blaine looks up at him and smiles. "It's cool. Did you make it yourself?"
"Of course," says Kurt. He walks over to Blaine's side and puts a hand on the small of his back. "Shall we?"
"Oh yes, we shall," says Blaine, licking his lips.
Stepping behind Blaine, Kurt takes his jacket and slips it off his shoulders. Blaine takes it, folding it up and draping it over the desk chair. Kurt does the same with his own, placing it carefully on the desk itself. They stare at each other for a while, Kurt's heart pounding in his ears. After a moment, Kurt brings his trembling hands up to Blaine's shirt buttons.
Blaine pulls him in closer, giving him a wet, open kiss on the corner of his mouth. Kurt takes a deep breath and kisses back, working at the buttons to hard that he's afraid they might pop off. Once finished, Blaine shimmies out of his shirt and lets it fall to the floor, all sense of polite cleanliness gone. He doesn't bother with Kurt's buttons, and instead pulls the shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside. The sudden exposure to cold air makes Kurt shiver, so he wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders, pressing himself against his warm skin.
With his left hand, Blaine reaches up and grabs Kurt's hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck. He nips at it, moving up and down, and sucking at different intervals. Kurt lets out a soft groan as each little bite goes straight to his cock. Smoothing his hands down Blaine's chest and stomach, he hooks his fingers into his belt loops and jerks him forward.
They stumble and fall onto the bed in a mass of limbs and giggles. Blaine gives him a peck on the mouth before working his way down his torso. He brushes his thumbs against Kurt's nipples, making his back arch and drawing out another moan. Planting a kiss right above the edge of his jeans, Blaine makes quick work of Kurt's fly. Kurt lifts his hips to make it easier for Blaine to peal them off. He regrets wearing such tight pants, as it takes Blaine way too much time to pull them all the way down.
The jeans finally crumpled somewhere on the floor, Blaine leans forward and palms Kurt's erection through his briefs. Kurt bites his lip and tries not to thrust into Blaine's hand, but his hips keep bucking. Slipping his fingers into the elastic waistband, Blaine pulls the briefs down and Kurt's cock bounces up against his stomach.
Blaine looks up at Kurt as he wraps his fingers around the shaft and sucks the head into his mouth. He blinks, his eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheeks. Kurt throws his head back, overwhelmed by the sensation of Blaine's tongue against his slit. Crying out as Blaine pushes his cock further down his throat, Kurt reaches out and grasps at his shoulders and hair. Blaine moves his tongue along the underside, sending Kurt reeling.
He pulls up, and Kurt looks down to see a line of saliva caught between Blaine's open mouth and the head of his cock. The sight makes a warm feeling pool in his stomach, and he sits up. Grabbing his arm, Kurt pulls Blaine forward and kisses him. Blaine responds by cupping Kurt's jaw with his hands and crawling up onto his lap. Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's waist and falls back onto the bed, bringing Blaine down with him.
They spend the next minute or so just kissing, rubbing their hands up and down each other's bodies and tangling their legs together. Kurt pushes Blaine up and over, and rolls on top of him. He bites at Blaine's neck, giving him marks and bruises to match the ones he gave taste of salty skin and the smell of sex flooding his mind, Kurt begins to thrust against him.
Blaine whimpers as Kurt's cock slides against his own, slippery with sweat. Kurt pulls up from Blaine's neck to kiss him, and Blaine reaches out to run his fingers through Kurt's hair. They rock together, all limbs and sweat and guttural sounds. Pushing their bodies closer together until lines where one ends and the other begins blurs, they are lost in the sensation of each other. Blaine hooks a leg around Kurt's and thrusts upward to mach his pace, pulling his hands away from his hair to cup his ass. Kurt's motion becomes jerky and erratic as he feels himself start to go over the edge. He comes, his orgasm racing through is body from his shoulders to the tip of his toes. Hot liquid splashes out between them, sticking to Blaine's stomach and chest.
Kurt sighs and stops for a moment to recover. He kisses Blaine on the cheek and twists one of his curls with his fingers before crawling down his body. A drop of come sits right under Blaine's nipple, and Kurt smiles as he licks it off. Blaine groans again when Kurt takes the nipple into his mouth and sucks on it, working the other with his fingers. He can still feel Blaine's erection against his leg, so he pushes his thigh onto it. The pressure makes Blaine's back arch as Kurt works his way further down his chest. He licks his own come off of Blaine's skin, flattening his tongue and sliding it across his abdomen.
As he moves further down, Kurt has to shift the position of his legs, releasing the pressure he holds on Blaine's cock. He laps up the last dollop of come and looks up at Blaine. He smiles at him through heavy lidded eyes. Kurt licks his lips and smooths his hand over cock, which dribbles precome onto his stomach.
He gives the shaft a long swipe of his tongue before wrapping his hand around it and pumping up and down. Blaine closes his eyes and grips the sheets, thrusting up into Kurt's hand as he whispers, "Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god."
Arching his back, Blaine comes. Semen spills onto Kurt's hand, hot and sticky. He collapses back onto the bed, visibly exhausted. Letting go of his softening cock, Kurt sits up and smiles.
"You ok?" he asks.
"I am fantastic," Blaine says between deep breaths.
Kurt nods, bouncing off the bed and heading towards his bathroom. "You go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I'm gonna..." He holds up his hand that's dripping with come. "Clean up."
He hears Blaine laugh as he pushes his bathroom door open. This might be the smaller bedroom in the apartment, but at least the bathroom is private. He flicks the light on and heads over to the skin. Once he washes and dries his hands, he heads back into the bedroom.
Blaine is curled up under the covers. Sweat and activity caused his hair to revolt against all the product, and it curls softly at his forehead. Kurt slips in behind him, snaking an arm around his waist and breathing into his hair. Sleepiness pours over him like a warm shower and he closes his eyes, satisfied.
The next morning isn't as awkward as Kurt thought it would be. Blaine is very courteous, helping him make the bed and politely declining breakfast. They both say that they will call sometime soon, but Kurt is acutely aware of the fact that they never actually exchanged numbers.
The door is open, and Blaine is just about to leave when he turns around and kisses Kurt on the cheek.
"See you," he says.
Kurt smiles and nods, having no intention of ever seeing him again at all. "You too."
He closes the door behind him and leans against it with a sigh. One night of meaningless sex was cathartic and fulfilling, but there is still a couple days until callbacks and Kurt is sure that it's only a matter of time before his nerves wreak havoc on him again.
"Who was that?"
Kurt turns around to see Rachel standing at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a bowl of cereal.
"Blaine." Kurt says, stepping away from the door and heading over to the fridge to take out the milk.
"And who is Blaine?" Rachel asks, taking the carton from Kurt and popping off the cap. "Where'd you meet him? What's he like?"
Kurt shrugs. "I just... met him at a bar, you know."
Pursing her lips, Rachel eyes him for a moment before picking up her bowl. "Was that a one night stand, Kurt?"
"Maybe?" Kurt opens the overhead cabinet and pulls out a bowl for himself. "Yes? Does it matter?"
"I guess not," says Rachel between spoonfuls of cheerios. "It's just... new."
With another sigh Kurt pours the cereal into his bowl. "I was just really stressed out from the audition and I wanted to have some fun to take my mind off it."
Putting the milk and the cereal box away. Kurt picks up with bowl and heads over to their tiny table, Rachel following closely.
"But you did great!" she says, sitting down across from him.
"I fucked up my monologue." Kurt says. He stares down at his bowl, pushing the little circles back and forth with his spoon.
"Nobody could tell." Rachel says, putting her hand on his arm. "I promise, nobody noticed anything."
"The director did," says Kurt. "I could see it in his face. I fucked up, and he knew it."
Rachel frowns. "Well..."
"It's ok," Kurt says. "I had some fun. I'm relaxed. I'm good, ok?"
"Ok," says Rachel, taking her hand way. She smiles and bounces in her seat. "Now tell me more about Blaine!"
"No."
"Please?"
Kurt rolls his eyes. "Fine."
He begins to tell her about his night, and it all slowly becomes far away, like something that happened to someone else.
The line at the Union Square Starbucks is absolute hell. Hipsters and business men alike push and shove to get to the counter, screaming out their orders like it's somehow more important that everyone else's. Kurt is crushed between a bike messenger still in his helmet, and a frazzled young woman he figures is an intern. He ordered his coffee ten minutes ago, and can't wait to get out of this massive crowd.
The barista cries out his name and Kurt maneuvers himself forward, stretching his arm out and snatching his cup. He pushes his way through the sea of people towards the door, ready to be out in the open air. What he isn't ready for is Blaine stepping out onto the sidewalk at the same time. The crowd bumps them together, causing Kurt's lid to pop off. A bit of coffee spills out, dripping onto a pair of shiny leather shoes.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" Kurt says, finally out the door. He looks up and it takes a moment for him to recognize the face of his one night stand. "Blaine!"
Blaine smiles. "Kurt! What a surprise!"
Kurt looks back down at his shoes. "Um, I'll go back and get some napkins."
"What? In there?" Blaine asks. "No way, I don't think they can physically hold any more people. It's fine, I'm heading back to my dorm anyway."
He gestures to a building behind him, and Kurt realizes that he shouldn't be surprised to see Blaine here at all. There are tons of NYU dorms in Union Square. Blaine holds out his hand and Kurt shakes it, putting on a smile even though inside he's strangely guilty. He feels like one of them should apologize for not calling.
"It's good to see you." Kurt says, pushing the lid back onto his cup.
"Yeah, you too." Blaine looks back at the building behind them. "Well, I gotta-"
"Oh yeah," says Kurt, waving his hand. "Go ahead."
Blaine nod. "Alright. Goodbye!"
"Bye!" Kurt says.
He watches Blaine cross the street, and hopes against hope that they don't have another awkward encounter.
Kurt likes libraries. They are the only place where no one seems to be talking over each other, instead quietly absorbing whatever bits of knowledge they need. He decides to wander through the stacks for a while before actually searching for the book he came for. The quiet is so relaxing and peaceful that Kurt just wants to take a moment and enjoy it.
He breathes in deeply, the sent of paper filling his mind and lungs, and leans against one of the stacks. Closing his eyes, he wonders if he could record the sound of a library to play whenever he becomes stressed. A beep brings him out of his trance, and Kurt searches through his bag to find his phone.
It's a text from Rachel, reminding him to pick up some dish soap. Tucking it away, Kurt looks around to see just what section he's in, and how far away he is from the book he needs. He lifts himself off of the stack and turns a corner, heading towards non-fiction. The people caught in their own little worlds between shelves and tables of books are unnoticed as Kurt walks by.
A heavily gelled head of hair catches his attention. Kurt stops, gulps, and takes three steps back to get another look. Blaine stands there, flipping through the pages of some book. Kurt feels his heart leap up into his throat and he looks away. If he just finds his book and leaves, Blaine won't notice him. The library is a large, labyrinthine building, and there's a good chance they won't run into each other at all.
He pushes Blaine out of his mind and walks away. His book isn't too far off, so surely this won't take long. Arriving at the appropriate stack, Kurt leans forward and scans the shelves. He traces his finger across the spines until it becomes warm and tingly from the friction.
There it is. Straightening up, Kurt pulls the book out and examines the cover. He looks back up at the shelf to see if he can find other books on the same topic, but freezes once he sees what's on the other side. His face partially obscured by the books in front of him, Blaine squints and holds out his hand to take one out.
His eyes flicker up and he sees Kurt. They both stand there, blinking at each other until Kurt lets out his breath and gives up.
"Hey," he says.
Blaine smiles. Why is he always smiling? "Hey."
"How are you?" Kurt asks, silently begging for this conversation to be short.
"I'm fine." Blaine says with a shrug. "You know, just hanging out at the library, looking at books."
"Same." Kurt says, holding up his own selection.
Blaine's eyebrows raise. "Oh, you like Sondheim?"
"Of course," says Kurt. He shifts his weight from one leg to another. "My school is doing Into the Woods, so..."
"Oh, I love that show!" Blaine bounces a little, and Kurt tells himself that it's not absolutely adorable. "Is that what you auditioned for?"
Kurt frowns, taken aback that Blaine remembers how Kurt had an audition. "Yes. The, uh, cast list isn't up yet."
Someone shushes them and Kurt jumps. Blaine covers his mouth with his hand to stifle his laughs and leans in closer to the gap between books.
"Well if you get the part you want," he whispers, "let me know. I'd love to come see you."
"I'll do that." Kurt replies. He isn't sure exactly how he'll do that but... no. Blaine is not his friend. Blaine is a guy he happened to have sex with. He holds up his book again. "I have to get going."
Blaine nods. "Ok. I hope you get your part!"
Kurt smiles and gives him a little wave as he walks backwards, away from Blaine.
The subway is not a place to meet people. It is not a place where you smile and catch up with someone you haven't seen in a while. It is a place where you stay in your seat or at your handrail, make no unnecessary eye contact, and keep to yourself. It is not a place to say hi to the dreamy boy you hooked up with a few weeks ago, no matter how strong the urge.
Kurt holds onto the handrail by the door, trying not to look down at Blaine sitting in the seat below him. The train shifts as it turns, making its passengers lean to one side. Kurt stumbles, the rail almost slipping from his grasp. The turn sets everyone off, including Blaine, who closes his book to adjust his position.
"Kurt?"
Gulping, Kurt looks down.
"Hey!" Kurt says, his voice cracking with anxiety.
Blaine stares up at him, his expression warm and open. "Wow. How do we keep doing this?"
"I have no idea," says Kurt. The train turns again, this time shifting Kurt forward.
"Did you get the part?" Blaine asks. "In Into the Woods?"
He both hates and loves how Blaine pays attention and remembers these details. Kurt nods. "Yes, actually. I'm Jack."
"That's great!" Blaine says, his smile widening. "Congratulations. I'd love to hear you sing Giants in the Sky."
"Thank you." Kurt says, resisting the urge to burst into song in the middle of the subway. Not that that never happens, but the people who do sing on the train are usually looking for money. He glances at the book in Blaine's hands. "Is that a script?"
Blaine nods and holds it up. "It's The Bald Soprano. We're learning about absurdism in one of my theater classes."
"Oh, you're taking some theater classes?" Kurt asks. He suddenly pictures Blaine in a black box theater, reciting Mr. Smith's monologue.
"It's my major," says Blaine, nodding. "Hey, do you know anything about Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind?"
Kurt frowns. "I would assume that too much light would make anything go blind."
"It's some kind of show where they try to do thirty plays in an hour or something." Blaine says. He opens up his book and pulls out a piece of paper with a few notes scrawled upon it in pen. "My professor wants us to check it out to learn more about modern examples of absurdism."
"That sounds..." The train screeches to a halt, and Kurt sees through the windows that it's his stop. "That sounds interesting. This is where I get off."
"Ok", says Blaine. "Break a leg at your show!"
Kurt lets go of the railing and steps off the train. "Thanks! Break a leg at your, um, class!"
Blaine laughs. The doors close, and Kurt watches the trail pull out of the station. So maybe they can be friends. He can always use more friends, he supposes. Somewhere behind him, a busker plays a willowy tune on his violin, as if adding a score to Kurt's emotions. Kurt rolls his eyes at the thought and turns around, heading for the stairs.
"So the tickets might not be sixteen dollars, but we have to bring sixteen anyway?" Rachel asks, pulling her coat in tighter as she and Kurt turn a corner.
It's nighttime, and the streets bustle with activity. Music filters out of restaurants and bars, and people push past them on their way to their own late-night plans. Kurt has the walking directions to the theater displayed on his phone. He looks down and squints at it, hoping that they're in the right place.
"According to the website, it's ten plus whatever you roll on the dice." Kurt says. "It's supposed to be under a bar called KGB."
"Oh, is that it?" Rachel points at a bar with a hammer and sickle insignia displayed on a flag, next another another that said New York Neo-Futurists. "This isn't a communist theater group, is it?"
"That would say a lot about Blaine's professor," Kurt says as he and Rachel cross the street.
"Blaine?" Rachel says. "As in Blaine Blaine?"
There's already a bit of a line forming outside the stoop. They take their places at the back, and Kurt checks his phone for the time. The show should be starting soon.
"Yes, Blaine." Kurt says, rolling his eyes. "I ran into him in the subway."
"I thought you ran into him at Starbucks?"
"And the library."
Rachel arches an eyebrow and stuff her hands into her pockets. "So he's either stalking you, or the universe really wants you to be together."
"Really, Rachel?" Kurt says. "The universe itself cares who I date?"
The red doors open, and girl in pigtails starts letting people in one by one after having them role a die. As they get closer to the stoop, Rachel hooks her arm into Kurt's elbow.
"Maybe you're like Matt Damon and Emily Blunt in The Adjustment Bureau!" She says, bouncing on her feet. "You're supposed to be together. It's all part of the plan!"
They reach the door. Rachel roles a three, Kurt a five. The dark room inside could hardly be called a lobby, but Kurt figures that's the purpose it serves. Before they are allowed to enter the actual theater, another girl gives each of them a list of play titles, and a name tag sticker. She does not write their names on them, just random words and phrases. Kurt presses his sticker onto his jacket, happy with his new identity of Breaking Up The Band. Rachel is now Carpe Diem.
The theater is tiny, the stage simple, and the seats old and squeaky. Kurt and Rachel find a spot in the third row and sit down. Above the stage is a clothesline, and pinned to it are papers, each with a number -one through thirty- printed on them. Kurt looks down at his paper and realizes that the plays on it correspond to the numbers on the stage.
The Neo-Futurists, a bunch of twenty-somethings all dressed in the same t-shirt and jeans gather on stage to a round of applause. They introduce themselves, and tell the audience to greet those around them by the name on their sticker. Kurt and Rachel graciously shake hands, then turn to the people on either side of them. After greeting them, Kurt turns to say hello to the people in the row behind them.
Blaine beams down at him, his own tag reading Teenage Dream.
"You came!" He says, holding out his hand.
Kurt shakes it, the touch of skin sending tingles up his arm. "Yeah, I figured I'd check it out."
"Maybe we can get a drink after the show?" Blaine asks.
"Oh, um..." His heart flutters just like it did back in the club when they first met. "Maybe. I'm with my friend, so, we'll see."
Rachel turns around and waves at Blaine, who waves back. Kurt faces the stage again. His nerves are on fire. He looks down at his paper, wondering which he might like to see. How the show works is that the audience shouts out the number of what play they want, and the cast does whatever number they hear first. The goal is to do all of them in sixty minutes.
The show tons of fun. Rachel and Kurt decide that their pick is number seventeen, and their voices go hoarse from screaming it out at every interval. The plays themselves range from a strange monologue about baking souls in to cakes, to group scenes of people drinking water with O Fortuna playing in the background. When they finally get to seventeen, Kurt grins at Rachel and they squeeze hands. They don't know what to expect, and the anticipation is thrilling.
A cast member comes out on stage with a cardboard box filled with party decorations. He takes out the streamers as the rest of the cast filters onto the stage, helping him decorate. One comes out with a bowl of punch and some dixie cups, while another sets up a stereo. Once finished, they awkwardly stand against the walls while Time After Time plays.
The audience sits there, looking around at each other, not sure what to do. It's almost halfway through the song before someone figures it out, jumps from their seat, and climbs onto the stage. She takes a Neo-Futurist by the hand, and they slow dance junior high style; hands on shoulders and waist.
Kurt looks down at his paper, reading the title again. Audience Choice. Someone taps him on the shoulder and he turns around. Leaning forward to whisper in his ear is Blaine.
"May I have this dance?" he asks.
Kurt nods and they climb out of their seats, awkwardly brushing past the other people in their respective rows. He helps Blaine onto the stage, and they look at each other for a moment before he puts his hands on Blaine's hips. Blaine takes his cue to drape his arms over Kurt's shoulders, and they sway to the music.
That awful, heart pounding, giggly feeling returns as they dance together. Blaine's eyelashes are so thick and long, his smile so beautiful. His name tag is accurate. Blaine is exactly the kind of guy Kurt dreamed about as a teenager back in Ohio.
The music stops, and the cast shoos them off stage. Blaine holds his hand as they rush back to their seats, letting go only when they have to separate. Kurt settles down next to Rachel, his whole body tingling. As the rest of the audience cries out for the next number, Rachel leans into Kurt.
"So why aren't you dating, exactly?" she asks.
Kurt crosses his arms and feels his face going red. "Shut up. You know I don't have time for a boyfriend."
When the show ends, the audience lines up to leave the tiny theater. Blaine throws his arm around Kurt as they exit the building, returning to the cold sidewalk.
"That was amazing," he says. "It wasn't really Eugène Ionesco absurdism, but it was definitely absurd."
Kurt snakes his arm around Blaine's waist, forgetting for a moment that this is not a date and he's here with Rachel. Blaine's body is warm and comforting against his own. They fit together like puzzle pieces.
Rachel clears her throat. "Well, you two go ahead and get drinks. I'm pretty tired, so..."
He immediately lets go of Blaine and steps away. Blaine looks at him, surprised, but not hurt. Kurt stiffens and puts his hands in his jacket pockets.
"Uh, you know, I'm pretty tired, too," he says. "We've got rehearsal tomorrow anyway."
"Ok," says Blaine with a nod. "Hey, when is your opening night?"
Kurt glances at Rachel, who can hardly contain her grin. "The twentieth."
"At the NYADA theater, right?"
Rachel nods.
"I'll be there." Blaine says, pointing at Kurt for emphasis.
"You promise?" Kurt asks. He doesn't know where the hell that came from. He shouldn't care if Blaine comes. He shouldn't care if he never sees Blaine again.
Blaine smiles. "I promise."
Kurt does care. He cares with all his heart.
Blaine never shows up.
Kurt doesn't see him in the audience, which at first is ok because he's in character and shouldn't be looking at the audience any way. But then he doesn't see him in the lobby, or at the stage door. He asks around if anyone has seen a guy about this high with curly black hair? It's probably combed down, but... no? Oh.
The after party puts it off his mind for a little bit. He drinks and laughs with Rachel and his NYADA friends, and for a moment there is no stupid boy who only shows up when he doesn't want him to.
They get home late, and Kurt tosses and turns in his bed. He stares up at his ceiling, cursing himself for never exchanging phone numbers with Blaine. What if something happened to him? What if he couldn't get tickets for opening night and will come to the next show? He sighs and closes his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms into them to make himself see stars.
He sleeps. If he dreams of Blaine, he doesn't remember.
Kurt walks up and down 14th Street. It's a cold, windy day, and Kurt has to keep adjusting his scarf to make sure it doesn't fly off. He has plenty of potential reasons to be here, so if he runs into Blaine it won't seem like he's just wandering around the block hoping he'll show up. That's exactly what he's doing, of course, but no one needs to know that.
His heart is still pounding from opening night, while anger and guilt flood his mind. He should've just exchanged numbers with Blaine. Facebook isn't an option, as he doesn't even know the guy's last name. He's so stupid. How could he let himself get worked up like this? It's just a guy. He may be gay but no boy has ever made him feel like this. He shivers and decides to head into Starbucks.
The line is minuscule compared to the crowd on they day they ran into each other. He orders his coffee and sits at a little round table next to the window. As much as he likes Starbucks, nothing beats the Lima Bean back home. Kurt takes a sip and sighs. Maybe he's just homesick. Maybe Blaine's charm and looks unconsciously reminded him of home, and that's why he has such a huge effect on him.
He should just give up. He doesn't want or need a boyfriend right now. There's so much stuff he has to do between school and finding a job and getting an agent. Nobody, not even a dreamboat like Blaine, can fit into Kurt's life. So why can't he forget about him?
Blaine isn't special, he's just kind, beautiful, a good listener, and makes Kurt's skin tingle. Kurt takes another sip of his coffee and repeats that to himself. No big deal.
Said no big deal pushes the door open and enters the coffee shop, his curls all loose from the wind. Kurt feels his stomach drop, and looks back down at the cup in his hands. If he doesn't move or say anything, Blaine won't notice that he-
"Hey."
Kurt takes a deep breath and looks up at him. "Hey."
"What's up?" Blaine asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him.
He wants to tell him nothing, that he's fine. He wants to make it look like he doesn't care. Instead he rests his chin on his hand and sighs.
"Why is it that you always appear when I don't want you to," he asks, "but not when I do?"
Blaine blinks at him for a moment before realization spreads across his face. "I missed your show didn't I?"
"Indeed." Kurt directs his eyes towards his coffee again, tracing his finger across the rim.
"I'm so sorry Kurt," he says. "I wanted to, but I got really busy and..."
"I'm really busy too," says Kurt. "But my life keeps wanting to make room for you, even though I expressly denied it permission to do so."
Blaine chuckles, then bites his lip. "Would it be weird if I said my life seems to be doing the same thing?"
"No." Kurt pulls himself away from his drink look Blaine in the eye. "I like you. And it's not just because we had sex. I think I'd like you even if that had never happened. I, I keep telling myself myself that I don't want to date anyone, but I really want to date you."
Stopping mid-sip, Blaine stares back at him in surprise. "Really?"
"Really. So if you'd like," Kurt says, taking another deep breath, "we could go on a date. A real one, with a mutually agreed upon time and place and everything."
Blaine takes another sip, and for a moment Kurt knows rejection is coming. There's no way that stupid, wonderful Blaine could really want him.
"I'd like that," he says.
Relief comes crashing down on him, and Kurt smiles. "Great."
"We should really exchange phone numbers this time," says Blaine.
Kurt nods. "And last names."
"Those too. Hey, do you want a biscotti?"
"Yes, please."
THE END.