Hello! :D thank you all so, so much for the reviews, hits, alerts and favourites :) I've put anon reviews on so you know, some more would be nice... ;) but seriously, thank you all so much! The places mentioned in the third block of this chapter are places I've been to (I won't say where/what as you haven't read that far yet) and they are real, I haven't just made them up! So... I'll stop blabbering now. Enjoy :)

Pretending: Chapter 1

sometimes tears say all there is to say
sometimes your first scars won't ever fade away

Dreamers are always lost.

They're lost in books, their imaginations, their thoughts. They avoid the real world and create better places to be and people to know. They're never in just one place - they might be queuing in a coffee house on a Monday morning but inside their mind, they're travelling through an amazing world where it rains coffee. Because they simply can.

And sometimes they know exactly where they are but they don't know why they're there.

Like Blaine Anderson.

He didn't expect everything in his life to fall apart so quickly.

He stayed in his apartment for the rest of freshman year. He couldn't bear to let it go. And sure, he had to accept that Kurt wasn't coming back to New York. That he'd dropped out of his fashion design course without telling him. Why he deleted him from every other social networking site they were signed up to. Why his texts and calls were never answered and Blaine figured that it really was over when he saw that Kurt changed his Facebook profile picture from them at a high school graduation party, smiling in their respective school's gowns, to a forced vanilla smile taken in his bedroom. That hurt more than anything.

And it hurt not knowing why.

He just didn't understand. Kurt was his... he was his everything. He wasn't scared to be the real Blaine Anderson who loved playing Katy Perry songs on various instruments or late-night Guitar Hero jams. The Blaine who obnoxiously changes pronouns in song lyrics, sleeps in coloured underwear and after keeping a guard of himself all of his life, he could finally let it down around Kurt. He'd never let himself become emotionally attached to anybody, as they always hurt him in the end... until he met him. And he was probably ridiculous to think that a relationship that started when they were both in high school would ever last.

Most people would find a way to cure the pain of a breakup. They'd smash all the photoframes or sit at home crying with a bottle of wine.

But Blaine decided to distance himself from everything they'd once shared. For sophomore year, when he realised that Kurt was never going to return, he moved into shared accomodation in an apartment block which was just as bad as the rented place he'd shared with Kurt. The ceilings leaked weekly and there was a constant stench of cheap fried food mixed with beer. There were a hell of a lot more people - Blaine shared with nine others, who always had friends around - but he still felt out of place. He spent all of his time either being forced to socalise, performing in coffee houses or focusing on getting where he wanted to be. But he couldn't do that in New York.

So Blaine Anderson, the man who hadn't studied French since sophomore year at Dalton, took part in the student exchange programme. He studied in Paris during his junior year.

His place in Paris was nice. It was smaller than both places he'd lived in while in New York, but it was prettier. Everything seemed nicer here. He'd go to classes, he'd socalise a lot more because he had to, he'd play guitar on the metro until the small hours of the morning. He'd hang out in clubs in the student and gay quarters in the city and he had plenty of acquaintances. He was never physically lonely as somebody would always crash on his floor after a night out or was avaliable for a study date.

He loved it here, he really did. It was nice to escape from the constant harrassment from his family about his grades and who he was dating and if he'd grown out of his "little gay phase" and who he was dating and "I'm sure there's plenty of nice girls, Blaine, you just haven't looked hard enough".

And while he was in Paris, he'd let go a lot. Unless he had classes at nine am, he'd be drunk most nights. He kissed random guys and even girls sometimes because it wasn't about what they had in their pants anymore, it was the feeling of being loved. It was a drug for him - he'd been deprived for over two years and he needed it. People assumed he was romantically involved with somebody anyway because of the expensive ring he kept on a chain around his neck and he repeatedly passed it off as an heirloom, or a gift that didn't fit, or... whatever else he could invent on the spot. He'd always been charismatic and it seemed to come back to him at the most useful moments.

Of course he'd dated since Kurt left. There'd been a few off Broadway shows, a few meals, a few quick blowjobs in either man's apartment. And he'd enjoyed them, he really had. He just wasn't ready to commit again.

When somebody shatters your trust in the way Kurt had, it takes a long time to learn how to believe people again.

Kurt Hummel had experienced a lot more in nineteen years than some people experience in their entire lives. He never complained about having it "tough" or whatever, because he didn't want people's sympathy. He was a little boy lost in an adult's body, desperate for somebody to tuck him in at night and hold him when he was scared. And he didn't have the closest thing he did once have to that, because he pushed him away.

Sure, he'd been a little irrational. He shouldn't have treated Blaine the way he did. But he didn't know how to repair what they'd broken. There wasn't a guide called "how to repair a relationship after you run off to another state a few hundred miles away without reason".

He did have a reason, of course. He just didn't want to share it.

There was a reason why he didn't come back, too. But he was embarrassed to admit it - especially to Blaine. The Anderson family weren't millionaires, but they were certainly comfortable. Comfortable enough to eventually send two children to out of state colleges at the same time. Burt's business did bring a lot of money to the Hummel family, but it wasn't enough to cover hospital expenses for two people in the circumstances they needed it.

Winters were always cold in Ohio. People were sick a lot. Little children snapped their arms slipping over during snowball fights and people caught colds like the plague. And sure, a plaster cast or bowl of chicken soup would make you feel better. But when a car slips on an ice-coated road into a building... there's not a lot that you do that provides instant relief.

Kurt sat beside his dad in his ICU bay: the sound of Kurt's breathing, the machines breathing for Burt and the muffled sound of new year celebrations around the world on TV were the only sounds in the room. He held his dad's hand tightly, hoping that he'd be okay. Kurt hadn't told anybody about the accident and Finn had only told his new girlfriend he'd met at college. Kurt didn't want attention. He didn't want sympathy and he certainly didn't want prayers.

Carole, although badly injured, wasn't as ill as Burt. She'd broken bones, had emergency surgery and the shattered windscreen had caused little scars all over her body. She'd had an operation to repair a broken hip and still couldn't move without a wheelchair. Her husband, however, had taken most of the impact of the crash. He'd cracked a few ribs and had a fractured wrist, his heart condition had returned and he couldn't breathe without a ventilator. He had spinal cord damage and swelling to his brain and if he ever did wake up, his life would be permanently impaired.

Kurt didn't know if his dad would ever tell him that he loved him again and it terrified him.

When Karen died, Kurt knew it was going to happen. His family would comfort him because he was only eight years old and cuddles made every problem seem better then. He still had Burt to reassure him but now it was his dad dying in front of him, nobody would hold him and tell him it would be alright. Because it wouldn't. And deep down, he knew that.

Finn wheeled his mom into Burt's room and the two younger men offered to give them some time alone. Kurt and Finn walked out of the hospital to make the most of the crisp night air. There were five minutes until it struck midnight and a few hospital staff and family members were outside, too. For the first time since he left New York, Kurt let his thoughts wander to Blaine. He hadn't spoken to him for at least a fortnight. Blaine had called a few times but Kurt didn't dare to return them. He'd sent texts with "How are you?" and "What's happened, Kurt?" and "Please, just tell me what's wrong".

The last one he sent was "I love you" three days ago.

Kurt wondered where he would be right now. Would he have flown to Ohio to visit his family? Was he still in New York? And if he was, what was he doing? Was he having a party or a couple of beers with his friends? Was their - his - apartment still as dirty as Kurt remembered? Was he at Times Square to see the ball drop?

They were going to go to Times Square together.

And before Kurt could think any deeper, Finn nudged him and they both looked up at the fireworks lighting up the sky. They were all sorts of colours and they were really, really pretty. And they distracted him from his current problems.

He knew he'd have to move back to Ohio to care for his dad. He knew he'd probably have to drop out of college, even though it was the one thing he ever wanted to achieve. But for five minutes, he could forget about everything happening inside the hospital. A flurry of snowflakes started to descend to the ground and this was far too much like a cheap romance movie for Kurt's liking... but he couldn't help but cry a little. Even if Burt wasn't going to make it, Kurt would. He was going to be okay. He couldn't see his mom, but she was still there. She'd always be there.

Losing his dad was a turning point in Kurt's life.

The following weeks and months were terrible, he'd admit. He didn't tell any of his friends who lived out of state, or Blaine. Most nights he'd sit with Carole as she cried for both of her husbands, asking him impossible questions such as "why is the world so damn cruel, Kurt?". He didn't have the money or the determination to return to his course at the Fashion Institute of Technology - the school of his dreams. Forcing himself out of bed was a hard enough task, never mind studying at college.

Every day was the same. Wake up, mosturise, breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, visit the cemetary. Bin the old flowers, water the fresh ones.

He didn't feel ridiculous talking to a lump of stone. If anything, he felt comfort. Comfort that he was as physically close to his parents as he could be. Comfort knowing that they would listen, even if they wouldn't answer. Comfort because even when he wasn't at their grave, they were always with him. They seemed closer than they were when they were still alive.

Kurt was horribly stubborn but Carole coaxed him into going to a counsellor and hell, it wasn't easy for him to pour his life story to a woman he'd never met before. He cried a lot and she didn't judge. She let him call her out of hours whenever he needed a listening ear. She reminded him a lot of Blaine - that was probably why he liked her so much.

And eventually, he remembered what it was like to be happy.

His counsellor told him to write a list of things to look forward to, but he didn't have a lot - excitement dies down once you're out of your teen years, it seemed - so he wrote a bucket list.

1. Visit Paris, France.

He'd never travelled further than New York City so this was a huge step for him. Kurt smiled to himself, with pride almost, as he stood at Trocadero Square. The buildings either side were beautiful and were just so typically... French. He was amazed at himself for still being able to speak French at a resonable standard, even though he hadn't taken a single class since he was eighteen and in his senior year. Everything was so perfect, as he'd imagined, and wow, he was here.

And it was there, in its beautiful, thousand-feet-tall glory.

Kurt realised his love life was really going down the drain when he fell in love with a city - with a tower.

He sat on a wall in the square, flicking through his guide book about Paris and God, he felt like a complete stereotypical tourist. But he didn't care. Because this was one of the things he was doing for himself, for once. Nobody wanted to ruin his happiness. And he felt so happy just being here, that he didn't really think about America, or that he was returning there in a week or so.

He didn't miss America but heck, he missed coffee shops. After just watching everything pass him by for a while, he took the metro to the Latin Quarter, hoping to God he'd find a Starbucks there. If it's where all the students went, there had to be some sort of shop that sold caffeine.

He silently thanked all the non-existent beings as he found the first Starbucks he'd seen since he left Ohio two days earlier. He thanked the Gods he so staunchly didn't believe in yet again as mocha graced his lips for the first time in what felt like forever to him.

A man, fairly short, and with an unruly head of curls walked through the doors but Kurt didn't draw to conclusions. He just sipped his coffee.

Until he opened his mouth to talk to the barista and... shit. No. No.

Kurt would recognise that voice anywhere. Even if it was ordering coffee in a terrible French accent.

And Blaine would recognise Kurt's attempt to panic subtly, which would never work. He collected his latte and joined Kurt at his table.

"Well."

"What are you doing here?" Kurt whispered, not looking up from his mug.

"I could ask you the same thing."