"How do you feel about bright colours?"

Blaine clasped his hands tightly. He had a habit of touching his nose when he was nervous, and he didn't want to do anything embarrassing now. "What sort of bright?"

Blaine had been living in his apartment for nearly a year now. It was plain when he'd moved in, but he'd promised himself he'd make it special and maybe do some painting. That hadn't happened, and so the other week, when he'd seen a small advert for a jobbing interior designer whilst flicking through the newspaper, he'd made himself write the number down and book a consultation. A week later, here he was, standing in his living room with one of the most beautiful men he'd ever seen.

"Well, you have a great couch, so we'll definitely incorporate that. Maybe a turquoise blue?" The man gasped. "Or orange! Orange would be perfect in this room! You could change your cushions, and these curtains would have to go. Oh, I think this room could take an accent wall..."

Blaine watched as the man walked about, spotting existing items from Blaine's assorted paraphernalia that were giving him more inspiration about light fittings and rugs for the wooden floor. Blaine didn't understand a word of it. But he loved watching. This man had swanned so easily into his house, and Blaine was having a hard time trying not to imagine him there on a more permanent basis. In his mind's eye, he saw him walking through the room from the kitchen door with two mugs of cocoa. He'd hand one to Blaine and take the other for himself, then press play on the movie they'd paused and settle down on the sofa, snuggling and-

"So is that okay, then?And I can come over next week with some paint samples for you to look at?"

Blaine hadn't heard a word, but he found it very hard to say no to this man. "Perfect. Thank you so much, Kurt."

Kurt smiled as he returned his sketchbook to his satchel, dropping his pencil in after it. "It's my pleasure. I'll see you next Tuesday."


"So which ones do you like?"

Blaine bit his lip, staring at the wall which had previously had the couch against it, but they'd moved that away to try the samples. Now, it had seven splodges of orange against the white that had been there previously. And honestly? Blaine could barely tell the difference.

"Um, which one would you choose? Being the designer and all."

Kurt smiled. He returned his gaze to the wall and picked up then pencil he'd used to write the names of each colour underneath the paint. He put a cross next to the name 'Peach Sorbet'. "It's very pale, this one. I don't think it'll be much different from what you have right now. And this one," he put a second cross next to 'Tangerine Melt', "is too pink."

Blaine looked at the colours, really looked. He still couldn't see the difference. "Yes. Yes, I see what you mean."

"This is a nice one," he pointed to 'Mango Madness'. "It's very orange, and would make a nice focal point. As would 'Island Orange'."

"I like those too," Blaine agreed. "And I think that 'Rumba Orange' and 'Traffic Orange' are too..."

"Red," Kurt decided, sticking crosses next to them like he had with the first two. "And I'd had hopes for 'Atomic Tangerine', but now that I see it in here, it's just too yellow." He crossed that, too. "It just goes to show that samples really are important."

Blaine chewed at his lip some more. "So... 'Mango Madness'?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, I think we need larger sample sizes. I'll paint larger squares of these two. And then you can decide."

Blaine nodded slowly. He was completely out of his depth, and not just with picking out the paint. "I'm really sorry," he said, "but my manager has been going on at me to finish this song I started, so-"

Kurt waved him away. "Sure, of course. Go, I'll call you when I've done."

Blaine walked to his music room. Its door was attached to the living room and he left the door open so that he'd hear when Kurt was ready. He sat down at the piano. The man had got into his head and he wouldn't get out. Blaine shook his thoughts. No, he needed to concentrate.

He set his fingers over the keys and started to work on what he'd started the day before. But however he played it, he came to a pause a couple of bars in. He'd work through the same eight notes, and then whatever he tried for the ninth never worked. He hit a chord in frustration.

He sat in silence, trying to collect his thoughts. In the room next door, he could hear Kurt moving about with a paintbrush, splattering colour onto his bare walls. Outside, he could hear nothing save birds twittering animatedly. In the corner of the room sat the guitar that his father had bought him two months before his fatal car crash. Blaine flexed his fingers and returned his gaze to the keys. Softly, he began playing.

It wasn't his own melody, but it was a start. His fingers moved easily, not once locking up or hitting the wrong note. His feet moved the pedals with just the right amount of pressure and he could feel that same excitement build in him just as it had done the first time he had heard it, live, when he was ten years old. It was this song that had made him want to become a composer.

He reached the end, his fingers lingering on the keys, when he heard applause coming from behind him. He turned around, startled, to see Kurt leaning against the doorframe. His loose denim jeans were splattered with flecks of orange. They were very different from the skinny pair he'd worn the other day.

"You liked it?" he asked, nervous again.

"Nuvole Bianche. It's been one of my favourite songs for years." Kurt didn't move. He just remained, leaning against the doorframe with a look in his eyes that Blaine couldn't name.

Blaine coughed and straightened on his piano stool. "Shall I, um, colours, then?"

Kurt nodded. "They are very similar. But come and have a look." Finally, he moved off, back into the living room. Blaine followed him.

He looked at the wall, at the two shades of orange. He frowned, looking from one to the other. They were identical, yet he could see the difference. "Island Orange," he decided. "Mango Madness is too... orange."