Disclaimer: Glee isn't mine.

A/N: You'll wanna read my other fic "Heart Under Heels in Love" before this, or this will not make sense.

Thank yous: Thank you to my brand-spanking-new beta RealityBitesBack. He's an absolute gem.

Musings Over a Medium Drip

by Bagting Hangin

Blaine appreciated time. His Rolex was accurate to the millisecond, calibrated with the great Greenwich timekeeper itself. He took at least an hour and a half every morning to wrestle his curls into submission. His non-uniform clothes were mostly handmade – originals rendered by master tailors at Savile Row, because his mother accepted no less than perfection for her two boys. Even the coffee Blaine drank took months to grow from the seed; days to be laid out in the sun to dry – all this before they were given hours anew to be roasted to perfection. Yes, Blaine appreciated time, which was why when Jeremiah said, "Sorry, baby. I have work to do" and didn't make it to a date they'd planned weeks ahead, Blaine is beyond disappointed. He leans his head on the glass paneling beside his booth at the Lima Bean, looked at the couple passing by him and remembered.

It was the middle of the night and Blaine just wanted someone to talk to. It was the third week of February then and he was still hurting over Jeremiah. Blaine would normally have gone to Wes and David, but they wouldn't understand. Not really. So he called the only person he knew who'd understand him – Kurt.

One ring, and there Kurt was.

"Kurt Hummel speaking."

"What are you doing?"

"AP Calculus. You?"

Blaine's voice betrayed his dismay. "Nothing much. I'll just see you at school, sorry to bug you."

"No wait!" Kurt had cried. "I'll just put the handset back in the platform and put you on speaker. I can do Calculus in my sleep anyway." Blaine knew it wasn't the truth, but if Kurt was willing to listen, he would talk.

They were on the phone for hours, alternately sharing comfortable silences or talking about anything and everything. Blaine had done most of the talking but Kurt always responded at the appropriate time, and even asked important questions from time to time. Blaine had never felt freer or more important in his life. Blaine felt that even more so after he and Kurt started dating. Kurt never said much, but there was always love and adoration in his eyes, feelings Blaine appreciated but couldn't fully return, but he allowed himself to be engulfed in them for they soothed his heart – or perhaps his ego. Here was someone who loved him wholeheartedly and devotedly. Kurt had always made him feel ten feet tall.

Another thing Blaine appreciated was music. He listened to everything that had a melody and rhythm – from the classics to rock, gospel to death metal, Disney to Japanese pop. Jeremiah listened to whatever was in the Top 40, but music was just background to him, a steady beat to occasionally bob his head to as he toiled relentlessly to get to the top of the retail ladder. Music wasn't life to Jeremiah, not the way it was to Blaine. Blaine's mother sometimes joked that her youngest was born singing, and that the first thing he reached for as an infant was the tiny plastic guitar hanging from the baby mobile. Blaine had no doubts about what he wanted to do after Dalton: he was going to study musical theater. He would use his gift for pulling music out of thin air and never work a day in his life. After all, how could doing something one loved be work? He recalls Kurt having said almost the exact same thing. Blaine had taken Kurt to New York for their shared birthday and decided they would visit the fashion district.

"One day, we will hold court here. I will take over Fifth Avenue while you conquer Broadway and we are going to have fun doing it." Kurt had said as he looked dreamily at the edifices around them that were home to the most illustrious brands in the world.

Blaine was behind Kurt at the time as they walked, so Kurt didn't see when Blaine shook his head at him, half out of fondness and half, perhaps, out of skepticism. Kurt really knew how to go all out.

Rain poured on the streets outside the Lima Bean and Blaine's medium drip had gone cold, beside it the non-fat mocha Blaine had ordered without a second thought before remembering he wasn't with the one he'd ordered it for. Blaine's eyes drifted back toward the queue where Kurt was lining up to get a non-fat mocha and saw Kurt's blue eyes looking happy for the first time in months. One of Kurt's hands was on the strap of his bag as usual, his free hand in Sam's.