give your heart (a break)

by Unwritten.25

Post-TBU AU. Life moves on after heartbreak: Kurt knows that more than most. As he tries to put his life back together after Blaine, he finds an unexpected ally in his new coworker and Isabelle's nephew: Sebastian Smythe. Complete.

2. Chapter 2

"So are you ever going to stop being mad at me?" Sebastian asks the next week, sitting down next to Kurt for lunch.

Kurt stabs into his salad. His silence is answer enough.

Sebastian sighs, opens his own box of lunch—sushi, expensive sushi at that. Kurt squashes the jealousy. "I don't know what I did to deserve it," Sebastian says, picking up a fork. Kurt watches as he stabs a piece of sushi and bites his lip. "I mean, I just asked you a simple question and it's not like I wouldn't have found out anyway—"

"Would it kill you to use chopsticks?" Kurt asks, unable to keep quiet and Sebastian rolls another sushi onto his fork. Sebastian pauses with it on its way to his mouth and smirks at Kurt.

"A traditionalist?" he asks.

Kurt glares. "Foreign food," he says, "is meant to be eaten as it is in its original country. Do think the Chinese take chopsticks to hamburgers?"

"Maybe," Sebastian says. He's still smirking. "But eating sushi with a fork makes a little more sense that eating hamburgers with chopsticks. Easier, too."

Kurt snorts. "It's not that hard," he says, then turns his head. "Emma! Emma—Give me your chopsticks, for God's sake." Emma, one of the minor editors, hands them over obediently—she brings sushi almost every day and, Kurt notes approvingly, her own chopsticks. Kurt turns back to Sebastian, whose eyebrows are rising, and deftly picks up a piece of sushi from his tray, popping it in his mouth.

"Thank you," he says to Emma after he's chewed, handing her chopsticks back over. She grins at him and Kurt winks.

"You may think it's easy but that doesn't mean everyone does," Sebastian says. He looks grumpy when Kurt turns back to him and Kurt's smile widens. "Just because you're ridiculously graceful—"

Kurt's eyebrow rises and Sebastian, to Kurt's shock, flushes. "Freakishly graceful," he corrects, looking annoyed. "With chopsticks. Nothing else."

Kurt leans his chin on his hands. "You know, for such a Casanova, I thought you'd be better with compliments, Sebastian," he says. He leans in. "After all, they're the only way to make me forgive you."

Sebastian stares at him. "What about all that crap about compliments getting people nowhere?" he says, but his eyes are laughing.

Kurt grins. "Bullshit," he says. "Everyone loves a good compliment." He flutters his eyelashes at Sebastian. "Now, go on. Keep telling me how graceful I am."

"Little bitch," Sebastian says, without any heat to it. Kurt sighs in mocking aggravation.

"That earns you another week of cold silence," he says.

Sebastian gapes at him. "Kurt!" he protests. When he sees Kurt's smile he repeats, slower this time, "Little. Bitch."

Kurt considers this. "Proud of it, meerkat," he says.

"I really don't look like a meerkat," Sebastian says, so immediate and exasperated that Kurt wonders if he hit a nerve with that one back when they first met. He hides a smile at the thought of Sebastian worrying over it afterwards.

"Have you ever seen a meerkat?" Kurt asks, poking the bear because it's fun and he hasn't had anyone to tease for a week. "You're practically twins."

Sebastian scowls at him. "Why did I want to talk to you again?"

"Because I'm charming and have ten times the wit of anyone else here?" Kurt glances over his shoulder. "No offense, Emma."

She beams at him. Kurt wonders where on Earth she finds her cheer. "None taken!"

"And also," Kurt adds, turning back to Sebastian, "because I'm so graceful."

Sebastian groans. "I'm never going to live that one down, am I?"

Kurt considers it. "Probably not, no," he agrees.

As Sebastian makes a face at him, Kurt realizes that he actually feels cheerful. For a moment, he marvels that Sebastian Smythe can make him happy, and then he's too distracted by mocking Sebastian's table manners to think about it anymore.

The next day, Kurt sees Sebastian eating alone and makes a snap decision.

"Just so you know," Kurt says as he sits down at Sebastian's table, "this doesn't mean we're friends."

Sebastian isn't quick enough to hide the smile when Kurt glances through his lashes at him. When he manages to school his face into a serious expression, he says, "No, of course not. I detest you."

"And I despise you," Kurt agrees. "Just so we're clear."

Something about the way his heart pounds seems suspicious to Kurt, but he ignores it, focuses on the small, warm ball of happiness in his stomach as Sebastian murmurs, "Yes, I understand."

"You're . . . friends with Sebastian Smythe," Rachel says, eyebrow arched over her mug of tea in an entirely skeptical manner. Kurt sighs, put-upon.

"Friends is an over-exaggeration," he says, pointedly not remembering the hour he and Sebastian had spent that afternoon watching cat videos on Youtube and laughing together, the way Sebastian's hand had been a steady weight on Kurt's shoulder or the warmth it had left when Sebastian had lifted it away. "We're . . . friendly. So to speak."

Rachel's delight is aggravating. "Oh no," she says. "You're friends." She starts to laugh. "I thought you hated his guts?"

Kurt frowns at her, sour. "Well he's not trying to steal my boyfriend anymore," he says. "So that helps."

Rachel's amusement fades. "Does he know about Blaine?"

Kurt's proud of the way he no longer flinches at the name, can almost hear it without pain. Progress, he thinks. "Yes," he says. "It came out in an . . . altercation one day."

"Let me guess," Rachel says. "You bit his head off when he said something about it?" Despite the edge in her voice, her eyes are gentle. Kurt closes off anyways.

"Sure," he says, attempting nonchalance.

Rachel's eyes soften further and she puts her hand on his. "Kurt, you know I love you," she says. "If I was a man or if you were the slightest bit bi, we would be having a love affair like that." Kurt is startled into laughter. Rachel smiles at him. "But sometimes . . . when you're angry or defensive or hurt, you close yourself off and bring out that sarcasm to defend yourself." She pokes Kurt's hand gently. "You're a hedgehog."

Kurt makes a face. "A—"

"Hedgehog," Rachels says, firm. "You wear your wit and your sarcasm like needles, and the moment a threat comes close you curl up and defend yourself. And that's not a bad thing," she hurries to add. "I don't know how you would've survived Lima otherwise. But we're not in Lima anymore, Kurt." She leans forward, kisses his forehead. Her lips are gentle and Kurt has a sudden moment of deja vu from when his mother used to do the same thing to him every night before he went to bed. "It's time to open up. Let that underbelly show." As Rachel leans back, she winks. "And maybe get some while you're at it, yeah?"

Kurt grabs a pillow and hits her with it. Rachel squeaks and hits him back with another one. "Rachel Berry!' he exclaims, hits her again. "What has college done to my innocent, virginal friend?"

"Well if you want to be accurate," Rachel says. "It was Finn that—"

She shrieks as Kurt pummels her with his pillow, gets up to run. Kurt follows, pillow at the ready, and in the return to normalcy forgets his anxiety.

You think I'm pretty without any makeup on . . .

Kurt blinks awake, groans. His phone is ringing, somewhere over to his right. He blinks at his alarm clock, groans again when he sees the bright red 4:44 A.M. shining back at him. Who on Earth—

'Cause you make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream . . .

Kurt blanches. He reaches over for his phone, ringing on his nightstand, and stares at Blaine's grinning face. He should really change that ringtone, he thinks with a curious sort of numb detachment. With trembling fingers, he hits answer and holds it to his ear.

"Kurt?" Blaine slurs into his phone. Kurt slumps a little with relief—he knows that edge to Blaine's voice, has seen him drunk enough to recognize it right away. He's been drinking. Kurt had been worried for a moment that something had happened back home to his dad, Finn, one of his friends- "Kurt are you there?"

"Blaine," Kurt says, rebuilding his ice shield. "What can I do for you at quarter to five in the morning?"

Blaine laughs. Kurt can picture him—something about alcohol makes Blaine sloppy, clumsy, over-affectionate. Kurt had thought that would be unattractive, back when they first started dating, but it only ended up being endearing. Just like everything else about Blaine.

"Just wanted to hear your voice," Blaine says. "It's been too long . . . Kurt, hey—Kurt? Do you," Blaine hiccups, "love me?"

Kurt stares at his bedroom wall. Through his window, he can see the glow of light through the buildings—the sun is rising.

"Yes," Kurt answers. "And no."

"Why not?" Blaine asks, curious with the innocence of the drunk.

"Blaine, where are you?" Kurt asks, unwilling to do this, not now, not when Blaine is drunk, out of his head. "Why are you drinking?"

"Boy's night out," Blaine answers, and Kurt has to stifle the immediate unnecessary surge of jealousy at Blaine being one of the boys. Back when Blaine first came to McKinley, Kurt had dealt with his irrational feelings about that, come to terms with it. It doesn't matter to him anymore. "Sam said I needed a night out to forget."

"Sam—" Kurt starts, cuts himself off before he can say more.

Betrayal rises up in him and he shoves it back down. Sam is allowed to be friends with whoever he likes, and Kurt knows that Blaine needs a friend right now, that he couldn't find one better than Sam. But it hurts a little that Sam—who Kurt likes, who still lives in Kurt's house, who Kurt has helped many times over—is apparently on Blaine's side of this fight. He wonders how Tina feels or Artie or-

"Said I was getting too depressed," Blaine continues, oblivious. "Why am I so sad, Kurt?"

"We broke up," Kurt says. Then, because sometimes Kurt is bitter and cruel because of it— "You cheated on me."

Blaine is silent for a long moment. "Oh," he says. "Oh. I remember." His voice clogs with tears and Kurt closes his eyes, feels older than he has in years. "Why can't you forgive me, Kurt? I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I know you are," Kurt says. "But I can't, Blaine. I can't trust you anymore, not after—"

You took my love, Kurt thinks, and you took my trust and then you gave yourself to someone else. We were supposed to be forever.

"You weren't there, Kurt," Blaine says. "You were gone and I was so alone."

"That doesn't mean you sleep with someone else!" Kurt exclaims, voice raising into a shout. He quiets down, remembering Rachel sleeping only feet away. "I was lonely too, Blaine. I was in this huge new city with only Rachel as a friend, trying to rebuild my life so that I could follow my dreams. Do you think it was easy for me, leaving you behind, facing this all by myself?"

"No," Blaine says. Kurt thinks he's starting to sober up—his voice is clearer, his words crisper. "No, of course not. But you kept ignoring my calls, not texting me back. You skipped our Skype dates. You didn't care about me back here because it wasn't part of your glamorous New York life—"

Kurt pulls his ear away from the phone, stares at it in shock for a moment, then puts it back to his ear.

"—did it really surprise you that I'd go out of my mind with loneliness?!"

Kurt's heart ices over. "Blaine, I was starting a new life, that's true," he says. "I was trying to find friends so I'd feel less alone, trying to make a place for myself at my new job so I could pay my rent and follow my dreams. And I was so sad sometimes and so alone. But what got me through that was the thought of you." Kurt blinks, realizes that he's started to cry.

"Thoughts can't hold you, Kurt," Blaine says, voice flat. "They can't be with you. I needed you and you weren't there!"

Kurt's fragile hold on his temper explodes. "You told me to do this!" he half screams into his phone. "I'm here because you told me to go, to follow my dreams. What did you think was going to happen, Blaine? I told you before I left that it was going to be hard, that there would be time that we wouldn't be able to see or talk to each other. And you nodded and smiled and said you understood and then went off and broke my heart because you couldn't take it." Kurt takes a deep breath, rolls his temper in. "I loved you enough to stay true even through the distance and the loneliness," he says. "I'm sorry that you obviously didn't, but don't you dare blame me for following my dreams, for being happy."

"That's just it, Kurt," Blaine says, and Kurt can tell he's just as angry as Kurt feels. Kurt is oddly satisfied-he knows how Blaine is with anger, knows how he bottles it up tight. "You were happy without me there. You could live without me! And I started to realize that I couldn't—I couldn't—"

Kurt's anger melts away and he's left with a bone-tired misery. "Blaine," he whispers.

"I couldn't live without you," Blaine says, voice cracking. "And when I realized that you could, I just wanted to hurt you. And I'm so sorry." Blaine starts to cry: rough, wracking sobs. Kurt closes his eyes.

"Don't call me again," he says, and hangs up.

Kurt watches the sun rise that morning and when he goes into work he knows he looks like hell. His clothes are rumpled and barely match, his hair flops into his eyes. He gets looks from all of his coworkers, but nobody says anything until Isabelle comes in, takes one look at him, and ushers him into her office with a cup of coffee.

"You don't have to tell me what happened, Kurt," she says. Kurt stares down at the coffee in his mug and hears her sigh. "I want you to go home today, okay? Get some rest, take a little mini-vacation. We'll expect you back in on Monday."

Kurt looks up with a protest on his lips that dies when he sees the empathy in Isabelle's face. She knows who this is about, she has to know. Kurt curls into himself, nods once, and marches out of the office, out of the building. For once, all he wants to do is lie in his covers and forget everything about Blaine, about his new life, about—everything.

A pounding on his bedroom door wakes Kurt from his mid-afternoon nap that Sunday. He wakes up blearily and tries to throw one of his pillows in the direction of the door—it thumps sadly on the floor instead.

"Go away, Rachel!" Kurt yells, voice hoarse from sleep. "I need my beauty sleep!"

"Well, no one would argue that more than me," Sebastian says from the other side of Kurt's door. Kurt lunges from his bed and throws open the door, staring. Sebastian stands there, eyes amused, dressed in his usual horrible streetwear. His eyes flicker over Kurt for a moment. "You would wear boy clothes to sleep," he mutters.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asks, so surprised that he can't even be offended. "It's a Sunday and—how did you find out where I live?"

"Isabelle," Sebastian says, side-stepping Kurt and going into his bedroom. Kurt stands there for a minute, unable to process, and Rachel pops her head in from the kitchen, eyes wide and guilty. Sorry! she mouths and Kurt slams the door on her.

When he turns, Sebastian is examining his closet. Kurt stifles the immediate self-conscious anxiety and moves over to him.

"Why are you even here?" he asks as Sebastian looks over his collection of brooches. "We'll see each other on Monday-"

"You know, the entire office is gossiping about you," Sebastian interrupts. Kurt gapes at him. "Look, Hummel, your raccoon eyes and frankly disgusting hair give me the heebie-jeebies and it's obvious you're still pining after Blaine even though it's been weeks." Kurt flushes, hates himself for being so obvious, but can't quite tell Sebastian why he's still "pining" over Blaine, if it can be called that. "You need to go out," Sebastian decides. "You need a night out to get over him." Sebastian pauses, smirks a little. "Something other than grinding up against random guys at bars, that is."

Kurt flushes. "That helped," he protests. It had—he'd been nearly normal for a week after that. "It's just—"

"Just what?" Sebastian asks, rolling eyes. "Can't stand the holidays without your hubby?"

Kurt hesitates. "It's just," he repeats, slow and careful, "that I talked to Blaine last week and it didn't go well."

Sebastian's eyes narrow. "Didn't go well, how?" he asks.

"It just—" Kurt sighs, shakes his head. "We never really had a chance to duke it out," he says. "He told me and then when he left the next day we weren't speaking and—"

"Kurt," Sebastian says. "What did he say?"

Kurt shrugs, oddly reluctant to admit to the details of the conversation he's been stewing over for the past three days. "We both said things," he admits. "I was fine when I answered him but then I just—got really angry, you know? And he was drunk and I was tired . . . " He can feel tears threatening and he forces them back. "We both just said things we didn't mean. It was just horrible all around."

"Kurt," Sebastian says again, more quietly. "What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter," Kurt says, reluctant. Sebastian huffs.

"Kurt," he says, and Kurt folds.

"He may," Kurt says, looking anywhere but Sebastian, "have implied that his cheating was brought on my lack of attention and distance from him." He swallows, forces himself to add, "And that it was in part revenge because he realized that I was out there being happy without him and he couldn't do the same back in Lima."

There's a long pause. Kurt can't bring himself to look at Sebastian.

Sebastian swears under his breath. "We're going out," he says, fierce, determined. Kurt blinks, finally looks over to see that his eyes gleam with anger. Kurt is oddly touched. Sebastian's face soften as they take in Kurt and he adds, "Take a shower," he orders. "Get dressed. I'll grab Berry and tell her to bring her eye candy and we'll all go that karaoke bar you all love so much. What's it called again?"

"Callbacks," Kurt says, a little dazed. "But—"

Sebastian waves his hand. "Chop, chop," he says. "Get going." He ducks out of Kurt's room. Kurt stares after him and decides that he doesn't understand Sebastian Smythe, not one bit.

At Callbacks, Sebastian pushes him to the front of the crowd immediately. Kurt wants to protest because he's still a little depressed and he doesn't really want to sing about his feelings, but before he can, Sebastian is talking to the piano guy and ushering him to the microphone.

"I don't even know what song—" Kurt starts, brow furrowed.

Sebastian laughs. "You know it," he assures Kurt. "Every '90's kid with a broken heart knows it, trust me."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I barely remember the '90's," he says. "I was only six when we changed decades, remember?"

Sebastian winks. "You'll know it," he promises. "Now, break a leg!"

Kurt doesn't know what's more infuriating—Sebastian dashing off, laughing as he leaves Kurt on stage with a mic in his hand, or the sad truth that when the music starts, Kurt does recognize the song. He groans.

"My friend is making me into a walking cliche," he tells the bar over the piano intro, and there's laughter among the crowd. Kurt smiles, relaxing a little. "I guess this goes to all the singles out there," he says, and it's time to—

"I want you to know," he sings over good-natured groans and hoots of encouragement. Kurt smiles, continues on. He knows this song, likes it, has sung it plenty of times in his shower-but it's hard to find a place to settle with it at first. He's angry and bitter, but he doesn't want to be, he doesn't want to feel this way about Blaine, who really is his best friend. So at first he plays with it, swaying his hips suggestively as he sings, "Is he perverted like me? Would he go down on you in a theater?" He hears cat-calls in the audience and tries to grasp his good mood with both hands and force it to stay.

"And every time you say his name, does he know that you told me you'd hold me until you die?" Kurt sings and his contentment fades as Kurt remembers Blaine's promise last year, how Blaine's eyes turned liquid when he said I love you, to stone when he said I was with someone—

"And I'm here!" Kurt screams into the mic, rage breaking free because Blaine promised him, they were going to be forever- "To remind you! Of the mess you left when you went away!"

The bar is silent, staring. Kurt can see Sebastian watching him with unreadable eyes and can't bring himself to care because Blaine left him like this, broke his heart and walked away, took away his happiness because Blaine couldn't understand how they could be happy apart. And Kurt loves him still, but he also hates Blaine a little for it, wants to spit his face and claw at his eyes almost as much as he wants to kiss him. Kurt hates himself for that, wants to forget about those feelings, but finds that he can't, they're too powerful. So he releases them in the only way he can: song.

"I'm not quite as well," Kurt sings, and he knows how bitter he sounds. "I thought you should know."

Rachel, Kurt can see, has her hand to her mouth, her eyes large and sad. Kurt can't let himself care, needs to ride out the wave of fury in him because he's afraid if he doesn't drain it now he never will. He builds on the bridge of ah's, his voice almost sharp from his hysteria, from his rage. His eyes sweep over the crowd and settle on Sebastian as he stomps his foot and continues on with-

"'cause the joke that you laid on the bed that was me, and I'm not gonna fade as soon as you close your eyes and you know it." Kurt sneers, raises a middle finger to wolf whistles. "And every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it." To Kurt's surprise, almost everyone screams, "Well, can you feel it?" with him, a powerhouse of sound.

They keep singing with him into the last chorus, some of them standing, stamping their feet. Kurt sees Rachel throwing her head back, screaming out, sees Brody beside her, beating out the rhythm on his table. Sebastian, however, sits still, watching Kurt with his intense, unreadable eyes.

As they all cut out on the last, "You, you oughta know," everyone's clapping loudly, whistling, stomping their feet, shouting for an encore. Kurt feels a blush coming on, but curtsies.

"To bad break-ups!" he says, voice hoarse, and everyone roars back at him in agreement.

Kurt hands the microphone over to the next person - a pale girl who stares at him wide, scared eyes - and moves down into the crowd, where he becomes the surprised recipient of a astonishing number of back-claps and compliments. Two guys stuff their numbers in Kurt's hand. Kurt thinks, a little giddy and hysterical, that he should have broken up with Blaine ages ago, it's doing wonders for his popularity.

When he reaches the table, Rachel immediately pulls him into a hug. "I'm so sorry," she whispers into his ear before she lets him go. She has tears in her eyes, but she's smiling.

Brody offers him a fist. Kurt eyes it, then decides to bump it with his own. "You owned that," Brody tells him. "I can't believe Carmen rejected you, you're stellar."

Kurt smiles and even though he still feels like his world's off-kilter he has a warm pit in his stomach knowing that someone other than his immediate friends and family enjoys his voice, his performance. When NYADA rejected him, he feared for a long time that his skill was something he'd built up in his head, that he'd imagined he'd had any talent at all.

"Not bad, killer," Sebastian says. Kurt winces.

"Don't call me that," he says and doesn't add, that's what you called Blaine. Sebastian, to his credit, looks a little abashed.

"I told you you'd know the song," he says instead.

Kurt rolls his eyes, relaxes a little. "Alanis Morissette is one of my guilty pleasures, I admit."

Another person starts to sing and Kurt wonders if life hates him when he realizes she's giving a trembling rendition of Teenage Dream. He looks up to see her staring out at the crowd wide-eyed and frightened, but it doesn't stop him from seeing Blaine laid over her, eyes full of tears. It's hard to breathe suddenly because the song helped but the feelings still linger like a bad aftertaste.

"I need some air," Kurt mutters, ignoring Rachel's sympathy, Brody and Sebastian's confusion.

He hurries out of the bar, pushing through the crush of bodies as fast as he can. Outside, in the cool night air, he feels a little bit better. He leans against the wall, pointedly not thinking of what the dirty bricks will do to his Dior jacket, breathes in and out. Tears burn behind his eyes and as much as Kurt tries to stop them from falling, he can feel them sliding silently down his cheeks. He rubs them away, furious at himself for crying again when—

"You sure do cry a lot for a boy," Sebastian says, taking a spot on the wall close to Kurt's side. His tone is gentle.

"Real men cry," Kurt says, voice little more than a sad hiccup.

Sebastian sighs. "Maybe this is why I don't do relationships," he says. Kurt glances up at him and its clear even through the haze of tears that Sebastian's expression is—open, vulnerable even. It's such a change that Kurt's drawn from his misery for a moment. "No heartbreak at the end, you know? I don't know how you stand it."

Kurt stares at him. It's dark and in the low, dim streetlights Sebastian is barely more than a profile: the curve of a jawline, the edge of a nose, a sweeping fan of eyelashes. But something about the softened curve of his cheek makes Kurt wonder if Sebastian's ever had his heart broken before, if he's ever cared for another human being more than himself. It's a thought that never occurred to Kurt when they first met, when he'd assumed that Sebastian was all sex and innuendo and one night stands.

Sebastian glances down at him and Kurt can see the gleam of green in his eyes. Carefully, cautiously, Sebastian reaches across and wipes away the tear caught on the tip of Kurt's nose.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says, and it astonishes Kurt how much feeling Sebastian puts into it, how sincere he is. Kurt never expected sincerity from Sebastian Smythe.

"I thought we were forever," he says before he can stop himself, because Sebastian is there and Kurt needs to say this aloud. "Blaine and I, I thought—" He hiccups. "I thought we would grow old together. We were supposed to be that adorable old couple that bickers and go on dates and wear matching bow ties. But we aren't going to be. And I don't know if it's losing Blaine or losing that certainty that hurts the most. How horrible does that make me?" He laughs, a little unsteady. "What kind of person am I?"

"You're a good person," Sebastian says, so immediate and fierce that Kurt reels back a little. "You're fucking irritating as hell and sometimes I want to burn all your clothes, but you—" Sebastian hesitates, continues with, "You're stubborn and exasperating and a little bitch but you also forgave me for everything I've done to you and Blaine, and I know you forgave that Karofsky kid too even though he did worse things to you, and God knows you'll probably forgive Blaine at the end of all this. And you've helped my aunt as much as you can and she adores you." Sebastian takes a deep breath. "I admit that I don't know much about what you're going through, but I can tell you that Blaine is not the be-all end-all to who Kurt Hummel is as a person. You are more than your relationship, Kurt. And if you think you miss the certainty of being in love more than you miss Blaine, that doesn't make you horrible or selfish, it just means that—well, it means you're a person. You're allowed not to have perfect reactions to things because you're not perfect and that's how it's supposed to be."

Kurt knows he's staring, but he can't seem to stop.

"You must be a robot," he rasps and Sebastian laughs.

"You're not the only one that's changed since high school," he says. "I grew up a little."

Kurt shakes his head. "I never thought you could do that," he says. He finds, to his surprise, that his tears have stopped. "Thank you," he adds, because he means it and Sebastian deserves it. "I mean—I—Thank you."

For a long moment, Sebastian doesn't speak. Then, to Kurt's surprise, he takes Kurt by the hand and begins to pull him in the direction of the club. "Let's go back inside," he says.

Kurt stares at their entwined hands and lets himself be pulled.

It's funny how Kurt becomes so used to Sebastian in the next weeks. If there had been a time in high school when someone had told him Sebastian Smythe would be counted as one of his good friends, Kurt would have laughed them out of the room. But now it's—different.

For one, there's no Blaine hanging between them, making a relationship impossible. It's easier to stand Sebastian now that Kurt isn't constantly worrying that he'll steal Kurt's boyfriend away. And it helps that Sebastian doesn't mock his "gay face" as much as usual, keeps his insults purely on Kurt's work ethic or taste in clothes. Kurt can handle that with more grace and less hurt.

And when there's not that antagonism, it's easier to appreciate Sebastian for who he is: a vain, arrogant idiot with bad fashion taste and a talent for witty comebacks that rival Kurt's own. And it's easier to see the Sebastian who likes French and scifi TV shows and top 40 pop music.

They start spending a lot of time together—as interns, they already live in each other's pocket, but Sebastian starts coming out with Kurt and Rachel (and Brody) on their nights off. They go to Callbacks and egg each other through solos, or to a night out to an off-off-off-Broadway production and leave the theatre gasping with laughter. Sebastian becomes, to Kurt's everlasting surprise, a friend—a good one.

Kurt is coming in early one morning when he spots Sebastian hanging around outside the building, phone cradled against his ear. A frown tugs at his forehead and his shoulders are tense. Kurt had started to stride over to say hello but slowed when he heard Sebastian's voice raise.

"I know, dad!" he exclaims, shoulders flinging back, expression tightening in anger. "You don't have to keep telling me, I-"

From the way he bites back the rest of his words, Kurt guesses he's been interrupted. He watches for a moment, unsure if he should leave Sebastian to his obviously private conversation or if he should stay, see what happens. His decision is made for him when Sebastian gives the most derisive snort Kurt has ever heard and ends his call without so much as a goodbye.

For a long moment, Sebastian stares at his phone. Then he sighs, turns, and freezes when he sees Kurt standing there. Something ugly flashes across his face.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asks, snide.

Kurt bites his lip. "I just saw you there," he says. "I didn't mean to listen in-sorry."

Sebastian softens a little, runs his hand through his hair. "Sorry," he says. "I'm sorry, too, it's just-I was talking to my father and he drives me crazy. You were just a convenient target."

"Been that before," Kurt mutters, thinking of Karofsky.

Sebastian, to Kurt's surprise, pales, hurries to say, "Shit, I'm sorry-"

Kurt waves a hand. "Don't worry about it, no harm done." He takes in the defeated slump of Sebastian's shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Not really, no," Sebastian says, regains some of his color. "My dad's just-a bit much sometimes, that's all." He meets Kurt's eyes, smiles. "Don't worry, darling, I'm fine."

Kurt makes a face. "As if I'd worry about you," he mutters, and it's one of the worst lies he's ever told because he is worried - Sebastian's face is so pale, and Kurt could never imagine hanging up on Burt like Sebastian did with his dad. And Kurt knows that there are plenty of kids who don't have a good relationship with their parents, but-

Well, he remembers how the Andersons were with Blaine and Cooper, he knows that sometimes family problems get . . . exaggerated when it comes to the rich. And it's hard not to see the way Sebastian's face has closed up, drained of warmth, especially after the past few weeks where sincerity has been blooming up from Sebastian like a flower getting water after a drought.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Kurt asks again, because he can't not.

Sebastian smiles a little and the shuttered expression melts away a little. "I'm peachy, darling," he says. "Come on, let's get inside." He smiles, and Kurt notices the bitterness in it. "Work to be done."

It's two days later that Kurt arrives, Sebastian at his heels, to find a man standing at his desk. Not an unusual occurrence since Kurt usually mans the front desk and they often have visitors, but this guy is dressed in dark, washed out jeans and a dark green hoodie-and Kurt tries not to be a snob, but they look like they've seen better days and were probably bought at Target. Kurt frowns, approaches, and the man turns at the sound of footsteps. Kurt pauses mid-step, struck, because the man has a different face, but his eyes-

"Kurt," Sebastian says from behind him, voice flat, "meet my brother, Braxton."

"You have a brother?" Kurt asks, incredulous.

"Guilty as charged," Braxton chimes in, smiling. His face crinkles when he smiles in almost the exact way Sebastian's does. It's unnerving. "I can see Sebastian doesn't boast much about his beloved-and much handsomer, I might add-older brother?"

"More like not at all," Kurt says before he realizes that hearing your brother doesn't talk about you probably isn't the most flattering thing to hear.

Braxton doesn't seem offended, only amused. "Typical," he says to Sebastian, who just glares at him. "He hasn't met the parents yet either, I guess?" Sebastian's glare deepens.

"Why would I need to?" Kurt cuts in, confused.

Braxton raises an eyebrow, looks between them. "So you aren't seeing each other?"

Kurt stares, shocked. Then he begins to laugh.

Sebastian tension loosens a little. "You know, darling, I don't find laughter at the thought of dating me very flattering."

Kurt can't seem to stop his giggling. "It's just," he says in between gasps, "the thought of you dating. Hilarious." He starts to laugh again, full body chuckles.

Braxton grins. "I like him, Sebby," he says.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "I'm not five, Brax. Can we stop with that ridiculous nickname?"

"But you'll always be my wittle Sebby-Webby," Braxton simpers.

Sebastian makes a face. "Braxton Arringon Smythe III," he says, and it's easy to see why he's so smug when Braxton's face screws up in distaste. "I thought you had better manners," Sebastian continues, and Kurt realizes from the intonation that he's mocking someone, but Kurt can't figure out who. Braxton knows though, because he's laughing in the next moment.

"That sounds just like her," he gasps and Sebastian smiles.

"I've had a lot of time to listen to that lecture," he says.

Braxton catches sight of Kurt's face and explains, "Our mother," he says. "She has very strict ideas on what constitutes good behavior."

Braxton and Sebastian give the look of siblings sharing a secret and Kurt realizes, a little uneasy, that he's never asked about Sebastian's family, his home life. He knows that Sebastian doesn't have a good relationship with his father from the phone call he overheard, but he doesn't know about Sebastian's mother, or, obviously, his brother, though it seems they're on better terms than Kurt would've expected had he know Braxton existed. Still, Sebastian never mentioned he had a brother and Kurt would flatter himself that they are, at least, somewhat friends. Kurt wonders why Sebastian doesn't talk about his family, realizes a little self-consciously how often he talks about his own.

"So what brings about the visit?" Sebastian asks.

"I wanted to see Aunt Isabelle," Braxton says. "Can you believe I haven't seen her since I was twelve? And to make sure you weren't sleeping your way through New York, of course."

Kurt's ears burn, but Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Of course not," he says. He darts a look in Kurt's direction, but his face gives nothing away. "You know none of them are good enough for me."

"Oh, of course," Braxton agrees, and he gives Kurt a sly grin. "Maybe I can guess who is though, huh?"

Kurt relaxes a little, rolls his eyes. "I would never date anyone who thinks a popped collar is the height of fashion," he interrupts. Braxton looks delighted and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"We're not talking about dating, darling," he says.

Kurt scowls. "Fine," he snaps. "I would never have hot, animal, man-on-man sex with someone who thinks a polo shirt means he's got it going on."

Both Smythe boys stare at him before Braxton brakes out into laughter. "Oh, Sebby," he says, wiping his eyes. "I love this one. Where'd you find him?"

"Hell," Sebastian deadpans and Braxton starts laughing again.

Kurt stomps on Sebastian's foot—not hard, but enough to remind him to watch his tongue. Sebastian smiles down at him, a little fond. "Little bitch," he says and Kurt tries to tell himself that it's not an endearment.

"If you don't mind, Kurt," Braxton says, cutting in. "I need to steal Sebastian here. I promise to return him in mostly one piece."

Kurt smiles. "Well, just make sure it's the most important piece," he says, and sweeps his eyes downward so his meaning is clear.

Sebastian gapes at him, but Braxton laughs and drags his brother away. Kurt watches them go, wonders what they'll talk about, wishes he could be a fly on the wall and listen in. He sighs, shrugs his nosiness away, and goes back to work.

Kurt's taking his break outside when he hears footsteps approaching. He looks up to see Braxton approaching, hands in his pockets.

"Sorry to intrude," Braxton says as he stops near Kurt, smiling. "I've been set free on New York City and yet I find myself at loose ends. Mind if I sit?"

"No, not at all," Kurt says, scooches over on his bench to make room. Braxton settles in next to him, all limbs and elbows and Kurt smiles as he realizes that Braxton slouches into his seat the same way Sebastian does.

"You seem pretty close to my brother," Braxton says after a small, awkward pause.

Kurt shrugs. "I knew him back in Ohio," he confesses. "He was a jackass to me and my friends then, but he's grown up a little since then so he's now worthy of my friendship."

Braxton laughs. "Yeah, he's changed," he agrees. "A couple of years ago-hell, even a year ago-he was just this little shithead. Now he actually seems like he's on the way to adulthood." He shakes his head. "How that happened, I'll never know."

Kurt eyes Braxton curiously. "Do you mind me asking," he says, "why-" He cuts himself off, embarrassed.

Braxton eyes him. "You could have a number of questions," he says, smiling. "Why does an upstanding Smythe such as myself dress and talk in this way? Why doesn't Sebastian talk about me even though we get on as well as brothers can? Why is Sebastian stuck at Aunt Isabelle's company even though he hates fashion as much as any one person can?"

Kurt relaxes a little. "It was the first one actually," he admits. "Sebastian's much more relaxed now, but he was a pretty big snob when I knew him in high school. You're . . . well, not much like that."

Braxton shakes his head. "It's a long story," he says, and it's the seriousness in his voice that takes Kurt aback. "But the gist of it is that according to my family I'm no longer a Smythe."

Kurt raises his eyebrow. "What'd you do?" he asks. "Sleep with a married woman?"

Braxton smiles, but it's a little sad at the edges. "No, nothing like that," he says. "The Smythes are aristocratic but it's been a long time since we disowned people for having sex. At least, for having properly discreet sex when it's outside of marriage." Braxton shrugs. "My family and I disagreed about how I should spend my life, that's all. And when my father realized I would never see things his way, he disowned me in both the literal and metaphoric sense."

Kurt frowns. He knows Burt doesn't understand Kurt's dreams in life but he can't imagine his father ever preventing him from following them or cutting Kurt off because of them. He can't imagine any father doing that, really.

"What did your father want you to do?" he asks.

"We own a law firm," Braxton explains. "He wanted me to run it after he retires, follow in the family footsteps. But all I've wanted to do since I was a little kid was travel and paint."

Kurt smiles. "Paint?" he asks.

"I'm an artist," Braxton explains. "My mother let us learn painting when we were young and even though Sebastian never took to it, I did. When I got older, the lessons stopped but I kept on with it-my parents never understood it and they tried to stop me once I got into high school." Braxton shrugs. "Then I just did it in secret instead."

"Any good?"

Braxton smiles, cheek dimpling. "Alright," he says. "I've had some works displayed in galleries in Paris."

"I thought you lived in the States?" Kurt asks, confused.

"I did for a while after my parents disowned me," Braxton explains. "Then I got an offer to move to Paris to paint." He shrugs. "I couldn't give it up. It was only supposed to be for a year, but I ended up staying-France is very different from America, but I love it."

Something dawns in Kurt's head. "Sebastian stayed with you in Paris, then?"

Braxton laughs. "He brags about it, then? Yeah, he stayed with me for a while when he was, oh, 15 or 16, I think? He loved it-fucked his way through half of Paris, of course."

Kurt hesitates on the question he wants to ask-he knows it's a little rude, knows that it's something he should ask Sebastian and not his brother. But he's so curious about it that he can't quite stop himself.

"Has he always been like that?"

"Slutty as hell, you mean?" Braxton asks, with the suggestion of a smile. His face evens out. "I think you'd better ask Sebastian that, Kurt. All I can say is he has his reasons. Relationships have never been very kind to him, and he's the kind of kid who . . . is a little more affected by things than most people."

It's hard to reconcile the Sebastian Kurt knows with that: Sebastian always seems to shrug everything off with an enviable calm.

"Kurt, I know you and my brother are close," Braxton continues, and there's an odd, intense look in his eyes now. "I just want to make sure someone else is there for him, even when I can't be, you know?"

"Of course," Kurt answers, automatic because even though he and Finn have only been brothers for a little over two years, he knows what that feels like, to want to protect your siblings. Braxton smiles at him.

"Sebastian did good," he says, standing and stretching. He checks his watch. "My, how the time flies when you talk about your dark past. I've got a plane to catch, but I'm sure I'll come back and visit soon, yeah?"

"You're leaving already?" Kurt asks, dismayed, standing as well. "I thought you'd be staying for longer-"

"Nope, I just needed to make sure he was okay after-" Braxton shakes his head. "Well. Anyways, we had a nice little chat and I can safely say he's managing. With some help." Kurt flushes and Braxton's smile deepens. "In any case, I have a show in a few days that I need to be back for, so it can't be helped." He holds out a hand and Kurt shakes it firmly-before he can let go, Braxton pulls him into a hug. Kurt freezes, awkward. "Thank you for helping him," Braxton says, pulling away.

"He's my friend," Kurt says, a little helplessly because he's still not quite sure how that happened. "Of course I'd help him."

Braxton laughs, though Kurt can't see what's funny. "I cannot wait," he says, "to come back after you idiots figure yourselves out."

Kurt frowns. "What-"

"Oh, don't worry, Kurt," Braxton says, waves a hand. "You'll know what I'm talking about eventually. I hope." He takes Kurt's hand again, presses a kiss to the back of it, grinning at him. "Now I must bid you adieu, Kurt Hummel: the man who does not sleep with boys who wear popped collars."

Kurt flushes to his toes but Braxton's already strolling away, still laughing.

Kurt's waiting for Rachel in one of the NYADA hallways a few days later, thinking about Braxton and Sebastian, who's been subdued since his visit.

"Nice hat," says a voice behind Kurt and Kurt turns to see a cute blond grinning at him.

Kurt smiles back, hesitant because he's still not used to compliments from strangers. The boy holds out a hand and Kurt takes it for a firm shake.

"Adam Crawford," the boy says. "NYADA student and leader of the Adam's Apples." His eyes crinkle at the corners in a distracting way when he smiles. "I would know if we'd gotten such a gorgeous student this year, so I'm guessing you must not attend."

Kurt flushes. "No," he says. "No, my roommate is a freshman here. I'm waiting for her to be done with her afternoon class."

"Ah," Adam says. "That explains it all then. Do you sing?" Adam pauses, then adds with a smile. "And do you have a name?"

"Oh!" Kurt says, even more flustered. "Kurt, Kurt Hummel. And I do sing."

"NYADA not cut it for you?" Adam asks, and it's his genuine curiosity that lets Kurt answer:

"No, I applied."

Adam winces. "Got the cut then, eh? Too bad." He smiles again in that distracting eye-crinkling way. "I'm sure you're fantastic, no matter what NYADA's decision was."

Kurt smiles back at him. "Thank you for saying so," he says, and then adds, teasing, "But I bet you say that to all the boys you've never heard sing before."

Adam laughs. "It is such a line, isn't it?" he agrees. "But it doesn't mean it's not true!" Adam considers Kurt. "Do you want to prove me right?" he asks suddenly. "My choir is practicing right now and we wouldn't mind taking a break to have a show."

Kurt's throat dries. "I'm-" he starts, uncertainly looking back at the door to Rachel's classroom.

Adam reads his hesitation clearly. "It's just a small group of friends," he assures Kurt. "No pressure at all, I promise. And we'll have you back to your roommate before you know it." He smiles again. "Come on, Kurt. Don't you want to put my money where my mouth is?"

Kurt's still hesitant but. Well, it's been a while since he's sung for an audience and he thinks he'd like to prove to Adam just how much talent he has. (It doesn't hurt, of course, that Adam has biceps to spare and a wide, easy smile.)

"Alright," he says and Adam grins at him, takes his hand to pull him down the hall.

"This way," he says. "There's a shortcut."

For a moment, Kurt has an overwhelming feeling of deja vu-so much so that when Adam pulls open a door for them to slip inside, he half expects to see the Warblers gathered inside. Instead, there's a group of the weirdest people Kurt's seen at NYADA-dyed hair, piercings, and tattoos abound. Kurt immediately recognizes them: here are the underdogs of the greatest music school in the country, the NYADA equivalent of the New Directions. Kurt likes them immediately.

"Bringing us eye candy, Adam?" calls out one of the boys, looking at Kurt with interest. "I've never seen him around before."

Adam laughs. "Everyone meet Kurt Hummel. His friend attends though he doesn't-and I challenged him to show us how talented he is."

There are good-natured groans abound. "Adam loves talent," one of the other boys says, presumably to Kurt. "He has a talent kink."

"Oi!" Adam protests. "I'll have you know I invited Kurt under pure motives!" He smiles at Kurt, gently teasing. "Isn't that right, Kurt?"

Kurt smiles back at him. "Better prepare yourself," he says. "I wouldn't want you to get over-excited at how much talent I have."

Adam holds his hands up. "Dazzle me, Kurt Hummel," he says, takes a seat in the empty room, gesturing to his choir. "They'll back you up."

Kurt grins, holds a short conference with the Adam's Apples who, despite their varied and eclectic appearance, have a thorough knowledge of the song Kurt wants to do. As they settle into a loose formation, he's grateful that he decided on tight pants today that have a bit of give-he's going to need to move, and it would be embarrassing if he ended up with a ripped seam.

The backing noise begins and Kurt experiences another sudden, intense moment of deja vu-the last time he sang lead for an acoustic show choir was in Dalton with the Warblers, Blaine at his side. He shakes it off soon enough to strut up to the front, hips swinging, and sing:

"What's the time? Well it's gotta be close to midnight, My body's talking to me, it says, 'time for danger.'"

Adam's laughing, eyes crinkled with delight, and Kurt grins as he struts around the room, Adam's Apples following him, providing harmony. It's been awhile since Kurt's done this-sing with a group of other people instead of just Rachel or by himself-and it takes a moment to fall into it, to get used to the interplay. He does his best-he hangs over a tall boy with dark hair, shimmies with another boy, shaking his hips as sensually as he's able.

"I've had a knack from way back, of breaking the rules once I learn the game," Kurt sings, turning back to Adam.

He experiences a bad moment of shock, his voice faltering, when he sees Sebastian standing there as well, arms crossed, eyebrow cocked.

The fuck? Kurt thinks, caught completely off-guard. Sebastian's never been at NYADA before and Kurt would almost think he's some sort of intense product of Kurt's imagination if Adam didn't lean in and whisper something that made Sebastian grin a little. What is he doing here? Kurt thinks, but then he remembers he's in the middle of a performance. He throws himself back into it and if he's a little bit more focused it's not because he wants to impress Sebastian: it's because he wants to knock the socks off of the hot British boy who'd invited him here to begin with. Don't think about Sebastian, Kurt tells himself firmly and then, partly to impress and partly because it's something Mimi would do, he stretches out into a split as he sings, "You wanna play? Let's run away." Adam wolf-whistles and Kurt grins as he comes back up in a trick he learned from Santana when he was with the Cheerios.

"Let's go, out tonight!" Kurt sings, casually throwing his leg up to his chest, showing off his flexibility. "Out tonight!"

Adam begins clapping as soon as they've finished with Sebastian joining in a few minutes later. Kurt grins, thanks the rest of the Apples, and jogs over to them.

"What're you doing here, Sebastian?" he asks as soon as he's close.

Sebastian shrugs. "Rachel texted me," he says. "She said something about meeting you guys here for dinner tonight."

Kurt relaxes a little at the explanation, turns to Adam. "What'd you think?" he asks. "Did I live up to your expectations."

"You were marvelous!" Adam exclaims. "Truly magnificent, I can't believe you didn't get into NYADA."

Kurt doesn't look at Sebastian-he knows exactly what Sebastian thinks of his talent. "Thank you," he says to Adam. "Your group is great, by the way. I didn't think NYADA even did show choir."

Adam makes a face. "They don't, really," he says. "We're basically the lowest of the low here, socially, but ah-sweet show tunes! How can anyone resist them?" He grins at Kurt. "You're welcome at practice whenever you like, Kurt. It'll help pass the time while you're waiting for your roommate, yeah?"

"I'd love that," Kurt says-genuine because he does love singing with other people and he's missed it since high school.

"Rachel's class is probably being let out," Sebastian cuts in. Kurt glances at him with surprise-there's an edge to his voice that Kurt doesn't recognize. "We'd better go."

"Ah, right," Adam says. "Well it was lovely to meet you both. I'll see you soon, Kurt?" he asks, grinning again.

Kurt smiles back, a little heady that Sebastian is right there and yet Kurt is getting all the attention. "Absolutely," he says.

Once they leave, Kurt looks over at Sebastian, who has a tense, almost angry look. "How'd you find me, by the way?" he asks. "Since I wasn't waiting at Rachel's classroom?"

"Someone left the door open," Sebastian says. "I heard your voice down the hall." He smirks, relaxes a little. "Nice song choice, by the way."

Kurt makes a face at him. "I'll have you know there's not one in ten people who can sing that song as well as I can."

Sebastian holds up his hands, still smirking. "I have no doubt, darling." He hesitates, adds, "That British twink seemed to like you anyway."

Kurt flushes. "He was just being nice," he mutters.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "He was into you, Kurt," he says, sounding almost put-out about it.

Kurt eyes him. "Did you hit on him?" he asks suspiciously. Sebastian's pout deepens and Kurt laughs. "What, so you're just put-out that someone prefers me to you?" he teases. "Can't handle such a hit to your pride?"

Sebastian frowns at him. "Of course not," he says. "You may be a little bitch, but you're not entirely unpleasant to look at."

Kurt rolls his eyes, ignores the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Thanks for that stunning compliment," he says. "I'll treasure it forever."

"Kurt," Sebastian says and he sounds so serious that Kurt focuses on him. "I mean it-a guy like Adam would be lucky to have you." Sebastian looks uncertain. "I mean, I know I was never your biggest admirer in high school, but I was being an asshole back then because I wanted Blaine." Kurt flinches but Sebastian hurries on to add, "You're really quite . . . good-looking, I guess. For guys who are into that."

Kurt's staring now, but he can't stop himself-to hear that from Sebastian, who's only ever told Kurt how gay-faced he is . . . .

Shit, Kurt thinks. Shit I think I may like him. Because his stomach is a riot of butterflies and he can't stop remembering how good Sebastian looks when he smiles or the way it had felt to have Sebastian focus on him when he performed. Shit, Kurt thinks again with a distant horror. I'm so fucking screwed.

Kurt takes a deep breath, then pulls out one of Tina's mix tapes. Tina, bless her heart, burned one for him right before he left for New York and slipped it into his bag without telling him—all he found was a single CD with a giant smiley face drawn on it in permanent marker, full of Broadway numbers and divas, songs that make Kurt smile. A few weeks after his break up with Blaine, he received a package from Tina: two CDs, one marked with a giant sad face and one marked with an angry face. Attached to them was a post-it note that said: I'm sorry.

Tina has the most eclectic taste in music of anyone Kurt knows, and he'd enjoyed listening to the CDs on repeat, astounded to find so many new songs that he likes. Until now, he'd almost always listed to the sad face CD, but now, now-

Kurt pulls out the angry face CD and slips it in. As the first track starts, he leans his head back and closes his eyes, focusing on the thundering pattern of his heartbeat. He likes Sebastian. He likes Sebastian, how could he do this to himself-

It will never work out, Kurt knows that.

But he's surprised how much he wants it to, how much he wishes that he or Sebastian were just different enough to actually work together as a couple. But they're not, that's the problem, Sebastian is Sebastian and Kurt, well-

Kurt sighs, whispers along with the lyrics: "And I'm a little bit too strange, for someone like you!"

Sebastian has as good as said, on multiple occasions, how little he wants Kurt, at least physically. Sebastian has admitted Kurt is good-looking, but Kurt can't forget the addendum: for guys who are into that. Sebastian's not. Kurt knows they're friends now, in the same way that he knows Sebastian would rather be with everyone else on the planet than Kurt. Kurt couldn't handle the look of disgust he's sure Sebastian will give him if Kurt confesses his feelings, is definitely ill-equipped to deal with the fall-out of their friendship afterwards.

And besides, what if they did get together? Kurt knows Sebastian hates relationships, has never been in a serious one as far as Kurt's heard. And Kurt's track record isn't exactly spotless either.

"I don't have the best of luck, with making these these things last," Kurt whispers along with the next lyric, wonders if there will ever be a time that music doesn't express his thoughts and emotions in a perfect way.

Kurt's used to loving more. It's what he's always done: he's always the one who loves too much, who loves first. Maybe someday a beautiful boy will pine over him, pursue him, but until then-Kurt will have to deal. Because he's not willing to lose Sebastian's friendship and trust, and he knows that if ignores these feelings they'll probably go away. This is probably just a fleeting crush.

(He pointedly ignores the voice in the back of his head insisting that his crush on Blaine had never faded, even in the face of Blaine's obvious disinterest.)

He sighs as the song comes to a jagged end and smooths into an instrumental. Tina, out everyone he knows, has the most eclectic musical taste-indie pop to techno to rock ballads. He wonders how she's doing, if the rest of the Glee club is alright. He realizes, with a start, that they must have new members. Does anyone talk about them, the ones who left? The new kids are probably all friends with Blaine, he thinks. If they know about Blaine and Kurt's break-up, they must side with him. It's depressing to think about a bunch of kids he doesn't even know judging his relationship with Blaine, the way it all fell apart.

He leans back, listens to the swoop of a violin, the soft, smattering piano and lets himself drift asleep, where his anxieties can't bother him.

Kurt frantically searches for his ringing phone, lost among his piles of laundry. It's Saturday and he's been trying to distract himself from thoughts about Sebastian by organizing his closet and doing chores. The stupid thing is shoved between his piles of jeans and he hurriedly answers it when he sees that it's Isabelle.

"Kurt!" she cries. "I was afraid you were busy!"

Kurt eyes his piles of laundry. So far he's managed to organize them into piles of color-next he plans to work on designer. "Not exactly," he says. "What can I help you with, Isabelle?"

"I just wanted to make sure you remembered to come to the party tomorrow night," Isabelle says. When Kurt doesn't say anything she adds, a touch impatient, "The Christmas party, remember? All of our financers will be there so I want every employee to attend."

Kurt's mind is blank: nobody's said anything to him about a party, though he'd wondered if they'd have one. "Party?" he repeats, confused. "I never-"

Isabelle sighs. "The notice has been up on the bulletin board for a week, Kurt. Haven't you seen it?"

"I haven't looked," Kurt confesses. He vaguely remembers a brightly colored sheet of paper on the bulletin board, but the thing is usually covered with band ads and requests for shift changes-Kurt hasn't really looked at it in weeks. "When is it again?"

"Tomorrow night," Isabelle says, tells him the address. "It's seven o'clock sharp, but feel free to come later."

"Is it black tie?" Kurt asks, wonders where he can get a suit on short notice. He supposes he could probably find something in his closet that comes close, but all of his formal wear is at home, safe in air-tight bags.

"No, no, it's casual," Isabelle assures him. "Just dress to your usual standards and you'll be fine. Oh, and feel free to bring a date!"

Kurt can practically hear her wink but before he can say anything, she hangs up on him. Kurt sighs, sets his phone aside. There's only one person he'd think of asking and he doubts Sebastian would do more than laugh himself silly at being called Kurt's date.

The party is held in a fancy hotel ballroom in the middle of downtown: it takes Kurt longer than he expects to find it after the cab drops him off though Isabelle emailed him directions last night. As he enters, he smoothes over his hair, pats down his clothes to make sure they're unwrinkled.

Inside, the entire building is white, antique. Kurt stares, a little awed: he's never been in such a fancy place. Last time he stayed at a hotel in New York is was with the New Directions for Nationals and they were holed up in a national chain. Kurt pats down his hair again, worries that he didn't dress up enough, whatever Isabelle said.

Isabelle's instructions had said that the party would be held in the Gold Room on the fifth floor. Kurt's just about to go up when Sebastian comes in through the door, breathing hard. He's wearing a dress shirt and formal pants and looks miles better than he ever has outside of a Dalton uniform. Kurt eyes him, swallows hard.

"You just getting here too?" Sebastian asks as he jogs up to Kurt's side. His shirt sleeves are rolled up at the elbow and he's stupidly, unfairly good-looking.

"Yes," Kurt says, a little breathless. "I had a little trouble finding the place."

"Not quite a New York City native yet, huh?" Sebastian asks, grinning. Kurt rolls his eyes, relaxes a little at the familiar banter.

"Come on," he says instead of retorting. "We'd better get up before Isabelle skins us both for being so late."

"Kurt!" Isabelle cries as they enter to music and loud chatter. There are a bunch of suits in the room, but Isabelle has a feather boa wrapped around her shoulders and the look of someone who's drunk too much. Christmas decorations are strung up and there's a huge tree tucked into the corner, drooping with ornaments. "And Sebastian!" She winks at them and Kurt feels a flush crawl up the back of his neck. "I didn't expect you two to come together!"

"We didn't—"

"We're not—"

Sebastian and Kurt exchange a look and laugh together. "We just got here at the same time," Kurt explains to Isabelle.

Isabelle winks again and Kurt's flush deepens, but he manages to raise an unimpressed eyebrow when Isabelle giggles at him.

"Come in, come in," she says, shooing them inside where there are throngs of people gathered, talking to each other loudly. "The party's just getting started." She shoots a sly look at Kurt that should warn him of what's coming, but he still manages to be surprised when she latches onto his arm and says, "You know, you should sing for us, Kurt! Get us in the partying mood!"

Kurt blinks down at her. "Sing?" he asks, nonplussed. He knows this isn't a formal affair, but . . . .

"Well, you want to go to NYADA, don't you?" Isabelle says. "And you were a finalist last year, so you must be amazing! Come on!" She looks around, leans forward to whisper, "Plus we're still trying to get the sound system figured out in here and we did promise our guests entertainment."

Kurt glances at Sebastian, who looks amused. "Come on, Kurt," he says when he notices that Kurt's looking. "Give us a show."

Kurt flushes, bites his lip. He's usually never one to deny the spotlight, but he feels awkward now, surrounded by people he doesn't know and—well, Sebastian standing there, eyes gleaming with humor. He knows that Sebastian thinks he's . . . girly, that he doesn't have the stage presence to rival Blaine or Rachel or even Sebastian himself. You do have that, he reminds himself, spine straightening. And there's no better time to prove that to Sebastian—and himself—than now.

"Sure," he says, and gets the gratification of seeing Sebastian's eyes widen in surprise. "I know just the song." He should probably sing some sort of carol, he knows, but Kurt's never been very big on Christmas-and besides, this is a party for a fashion magazine. His song choice will be perfect.

Isabelle claps her hands together. "Someone get me a microphone!" she tells one of the nearby employees, who rushes off to fulfill Isabelle's command.

"You're really doing this?" Sebastian murmurs into Kurt's ear as Isabelle accepts the microphone from her harried employee. Isabelle ushers them to an open place in the room, where there's a small dance floor and stage. "I didn't think you had the guts, Hummel."

Kurt levels Sebastian a look over his shoulder, and takes the mic from Isabelle. It's smooth and warm in his hand, and confidence returns to him in such a sudden rush that he feels dizzy. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Sebastian," he says, then steps forward on to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, and the crowd's attention drifts towards him. "Isabelle has asked that me to perform some live music until we figure out some problems with our sound system."

There's a round of indifferent claps and Kurt's mouth firms: he vows that he'll have them eating out his hand by the end of this number, no matter what. He glances at Sebastian for a moment before he starts and finds his eyes fixed on Kurt. Something in his stomach settles at that, and he faces the crowd with confidence.

"In life," he sings, "one has to face a huge assortment of nauseating fads and good advice."

It's strange singing it acapella, without background dancers, but Kurt's sang this often enough in his bedroom that he could do it in his sleep. As the song picks up, he moves forward in the crowd and goes with it, flirting with strange men by sashaying into their personal space, urging women to shimmy with him. The crowd starts to get into it with him-people are laughing, dancing a little.

"Oh now I believe in looking like my time on earth is cooking," he sings and as he twirls he catches sight of Sebastian, watching him with a strange fond look on his face. Kurt's so flustered that he nearly misses his next line, but when he turns again it's with warmth building in his chest. "Whether polka-dotted, striped, or even checked." Some of the employees are laughing, he can see, and even a few of them are singing along, mouthing the words with him. Kurt grins and twirls as he sings, "Every fiber of my being is displayed to quite remarkable effect," showing off his current fabulous outfit: slim, tight fitting pants, a dark blue dress shirt and grey-black waistcoat. He gets whistles in return and he laughs.

"I would rather wear a barrel, then conservative apparel," Kurt sings and behind him, Isabelle comes up and starts singing background oohs, getting some of the nearby girls to join her. As Kurt twirls, they follow him, and they even manage to fall into a sort of routine—Kurt feels inexplicably like he's part of an Unholy Trinity.

"For dress has always been, my strongest suit!" He laughs as he finishes and everyone claps. He bows, then hands the microphone back to Isabelle, who's grinning at him.

"Kurt Hummel, everyone!" she says and the applause rises in volume. "One day you'll be seeing him on the big stage!"

Kurt blushes and laughs when he hears wolf-whistles before he makes his way back to Sebastian amidst smiles and praise. Sebastian watches him with considering eyes and Kurt wonders with a thread of nervousness twisting in his stomach, what exactly Sebastian thought.

"That was excellent," Sebastian says as Kurt approaches. Kurt stops, does a double take.

"A compliment?" he asks, only half-disbelieving. "From the great Sebastian Smythe? I thought the world didn't end until the 21st?"

Sebastian laughs, but the intent look doesn't fade from his eyes. "I mean it, Kurt." He pauses. "You never got any solos from New Directions . . ."

"Or the Warblers," Kurt reminds him. "The only time they gave me anything was when Blaine told them to." He shrugs. He remembers being so bitter over that, but it's hard to be now that he's pursuing his dreams, living his life in the best city in the world and loving every second of it. "I was too fabulous for them," he says, smiling a little.

Sebastian doesn't smile. "They should have given you something," he says, and the firmness in his voice makes something warm in Kurt's chest.

"Thanks," he says, meaning it.

A tap on his arm distracts him from Sebastian's blooming smile. "Kurt," Isabelle says, with the barest trace of apology in her face. "Some people want to meet you." She turns to Sebastian, and Kurt's rarely seen her face so solemn. "Sebastian, your parents are here."

Sebastian pales. Kurt reaches out without thinking, tucking his hand into the curve of Sebastian's elbow. "Sebastian?" he asks, uncertain.

Sebastian shakes his head and his color evens out a little. "Sorry," he says. To Isabelle, he adds, "Where is they?"

"Ducked into the restroom," Isabelle says, clear worry on her face. "Look, I can tell them you decided not to come and you can leave-"

"No," Sebastian says. His eyes dart back to Kurt for a brief moment. "No, I should probably talk to them. I'm just going to . . . go get some air. I'll be back in a minute."

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Kurt asks, still worried because Sebastian's color is quickly returning back to normal but he can't quite forget the look of Sebastian's pale face and wide, anxious eyes.

Sebastian smiles at him a semblance of normalcy. "Don't worry about me, darling," he says. "I'll be fine. Go schmooze to your heart's content."

He strides away, gets swallowed up in the crowd. Kurt turns to Isabelle, who watches him go with her lip caught between her teeth. When she notices Kurt's stare, she sighs.

"I shouldn't be the one to tell you," she says. "It's Sebastian's story. But I will say this - don't go near his father by yourself, okay?"

"Is this about Braxton?" Kurt asks, nonplussed. He knows why Braxton wouldn't want to see his father, but he's not quite sure what Sebastian's issue is with his parents.

Isabelle winces. "A little," she admits. "But, really, it's for Sebastian to tell you, not me."

"I need to talk to him," Kurt says, frowning. "Where did he go, did you see?"

"Kurt-" Isabelle starts, but Kurt is already pushing his way through the crowd, trying to follow Sebastian's path.

He ends up outside, on one of the buildings many terraces. He almost gives up when he sees Sebastian folded on a bench, head in his hands. Kurt hesitates a moment before going over to him. Sebastian looks up as he approaches, gives him a wan smile.

"Needed a moment to yourself, sweetheart?"

"You look like hell," Kurt says, concerned. He sits down next to Sebastian.

Sebastian sighs, puts his face back in his hands.

"This is going to be such a shit night" Sebastian mutters against the skin of his palms, muffled enough that Kurt almost doesn't hear him.

Kurt hesitates, then reaches out to put a hand on Sebastian's back. Through his dress shirt, his back is warm.

"Your dad?" he asks.

Kurt feels Sebastian sigh. "Talking to him is exhausting," Sebastian says. "I never know what to say to make him understand me."

Kurt bites his lip, flexes his hand against Sebastian's back, wrinkling the fine fabric slightly. Kurt smoothes it away, feels Sebastian shiver.

"Do you want to talk to me about it?"

Sebastian looks up, meets Kurt's eyes. Kurt doesn't remove his hand from Sebastian's back.

"You know about Braxton, don't you?" Sebastian asks. "He said he talked to you before he left." Kurt nods and Sebastian sighs again. "It's something like that except . . . well, I'm the last son. So if my father disowns me . . . ."

"He doesn't have someone to give all his fortune to," Kurt finishes, nose wrinkling. "I feel like we stepped into a Jane Austen novel."

Sebastian snorts. "I'm not going to lie, it's a lot like that. My father wanted me to follow him into the family business, but I'm not interested in becoming a lawyer."

Kurt raises an eyebrow. "I would've thought being a lawyer would be right up your alley," he admits. "Suits, power, sex-what's not to love about that?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "You've been watching too much T.V.," he says. "Smythe & Clarington isn't much like that. My dad's partner," he elaborates. "The new head of the Warblers is his son . . . Hunter Clarington, I think that's his name." Kurt nods, a little surprised. "Even if it was, it's not for me or for Brax. Brax just wants to travel and paint and I-" Sebastian sighs. "I," he says again, more firmly, "want to make music."

Kurt frowns. "Sing, you mean?" he asks. "Like, make a record?"

Sebastian waves a hand. "If I can get that," he says. "But I'd like to produce more than anything." His face brightens. "Producers are what make really good music great, you know? Their decisions on the final cut, on how it sounds, that's what can make a hit." He smirks a little. "Plus, their life really is power, suits, and sex."

Kurt stares at him, surprised by his animation. "I didn't know you wanted to do that," he says, more to himself than Sebastian.

Sebastian cocks an eyebrow. "There's a lot you don't know about me, sweetheart," he says and Kurt snorts.

"Touche," he says. "So your dad doesn't approve."

Sebastian's face sours. "He needs an heir," he says. "When Brax left, father disowned him for it-I'm really the only one left for the Smythe dynasty to fall on. When he heard that I wanted to do something else . . . ." Sebastian sighs. "Well, you can imagine the row we had about it."

Something strikes Kurt. "Is that why you're here?" he asks. "Why you're working for Isabelle?"

Sebastian smiles, a touch bitter. "Got it in one, tiger," he says. "My father told me that he'd send me here for a year to show me what it's like to work in the "art world." He seemed to think that it would be enough to convince me to change my future to something a little more suited to his world view." Sebastian chuckles. "I guess he underestimated how stubborn I am."

"He's obviously never seen you pursue someone," Kurt chimes in. "Then he'd know you're a persistent person." Sebastian grins at him, a little more genuine this time. "So what happens at the end of the year?"

Sebastian shrugs. "I go to daddy dearest and tell him I still don't want to run the company. My guess is that he'll cut me off like he did to Brax - we have a couple of cousins that he could shape into being the family heir, though I don't they'll come any more easily than Brax or me."

Kurt gapes at him. "You're okay with that?" he asks, incredulous. "Being cut off from your family? And your money?"

Sebastian shoots him a wry look. "I realize the irony of me saying this, but money isn't everything, Kurt."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "You're right," he says. "I may drop dead of shock that you said that. But seriously, won't it be hard for you to make it on your own without any support?" Kurt can't imagine not having his dad to fall back on when times get rough.

Sebastian shrugs. "I have Isabelle and Brax," he says. "Neither of them are really hard-off and they're willing to help me out. But I suppose I'll find a job and work myself to the bone to pay my bills until I make it big-just like every other average Joe." He grins at Kurt. "Sebastian Smythe, working class citizen. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Kurt makes a face. "I can't imagine you actually working," he admits. "Probably because I've never seen you do it with my own eyes. All you do at the office is sleep and yell at Jerry."

"Jerry deserves it, the piece of shit," Sebastian says, adamant even though Kurt knows that he, like the rest of the office, has become fond of Jerry's endearingly bad print jobs. "And I do work! Isabelle says I'm a pleasure to have working for her!"

Kurt snorts before he can stop himself. "Isabelle says that about everyone," he says. "She says that about Irene, and you know what she's like." Irene, one of the other interns, gets "lost" on her way to the bathroom at least three times a day and ends up missing for hours at a time. Kurt's pretty sure that she goes out shopping because she usually comes back in a different outfit than she arrived in.

Sebastian pulls an outraged face. "Are you saying my own aunt was lying to me?" he asks. "I can't believe you!"

Kurt grins. "I'm just saying that if you asked me, I'd say you're lazy and sometimes a little petulant."

Sebastian pouts. "I am not petulant," he says. "I'm endearingly snotty, there's a difference."

They glance at each other and start to laugh at the same time: when Kurt can catch his breath, he says, "We should head back inside."

Sebastian groans. "Do we have to?" he asks. "I'd rather stay out here with you."

Kurt knows that when it comes to a choice between him and Sebastian's father Sebastian will choose him without contest-hell Sebastian would probably choose a pig without contest-but he can't stop the warmth blossoming in his chest.

"Too bad," Kurt says, standing. "Time to face the music." He offers Sebastian a hand. "No getting out of it, I'm afraid."

Sebastian sighs, lets himself be pulled to his feet. Instead of pulling away afterward, he grips Kurt's hand tight. His fingers are long, warm against Kurt's. "I'm glad you're here, Kurt," he mutters and when Kurt glances at him in shock, he can see a flush curling around Sebastian's ear. He smiles, fond, and squeezes Sebastian's hand.

Inside there's still a crush of people, but they manage to stop Isabelle, who waves them over to where she's standing with a couple that Kurt can only assume are Sebastian's parents.

Sebastian's father is an imposing man of around fifty, with dark gray streaks in his brown hair. Both Sebastian and Braxton don't look much like him, though they obviously inherited his coloring - no, it's apparent that the Smythe brothers got everything else from their fine-boned, gorgeous mother, whose face crinkles up in that distinctive Smythe way as she smiles. They're an attractive couple, the Smythe parents, and Kurt can't help but be a little intimidated by their combined beauty, their aura of importance.

"Calm down," Sebastian murmurs into his ear. "They're not all as impressive as that." He sounds anxious and his face, when Kurt glances back, is pale.

"They look very impressive," Kurt points out, tries to keep his voice light so that Sebastian will relax. "Your mother has excellent taste, that vintage Dior looks divine on her." It does, even if her sneer doesn't suit her as well.

Sebastian makes a face, but his face regains some color. "Her taste in fashion is probably the only good taste she has left," Sebastian mutters. He sighs, put upon. "Come on, better introduce you quick and get it over with." He takes Kurt's arm, starts to lead him across the room, hesitates. "Kurt," he says. "Don't let anything they say get to you."

Kurt stares up at Sebastian as they continue across the room. "What-?" he asks, uncertain why everyone seems to think that Sebastian's parents will be horrible to him, but they're already at the Smythe parents' side, and they're turning to meet Kurt and Sebastian. Isabelle gives them a look and then slips away into the crowd.

Sebastian's father doesn't look at Sebastian at first-his attention is all on Kurt, sweeping over him from head to toe. And Kurt hadn't exactly been expecting a warm reaction, but the look Sebastian's father wears after he's finished examining Kurt says that he's seen all Kurt has to offer and Kurt has come up wanting. Kurt starts to flush, looks over at Sebastian's mother-who's looking at him much as a shark might look at a fish it could eat but doesn't want to for fear of stomachache.

Kurt shrinks back for a moment, feeling very small. Then he remembers his dad, his friends, Sebastian, Isabelle-even Blaine, who've all told him that he's a good person, a fabulous person. He's Kurt motherfucking Hummel, and these people might be important and rich and Sebastian's parents, but they are not better than him, and they will not make him feel small. Kurt won't allow it.

He stares down Sebastian's mother, who turns her head with a delicate huff after a minute, then sweeps his gaze to Sebastian's father-who has actually already turned to regard Sebastian.

"It's good to see you looking so well, son," Sebastian's father says. "New York suits you as much as it suits your aunt."

Sebastian's mouth thins. "You look good as well, father," he says without sincerity. His face relaxes a little as he turns to Kurt, gestures him forward. "May I introduce Kurt Hummel? He works with me at Aunt Isabelle's company as an intern."

Neither of Sebastian's parents deign to offer a hand or a hello. Kurt grits his teeth. "Pleasure," he spits out as politely as he can, "I'm sure."

He sees Sebastian grin a little out of the corner of his eye and relaxes, temper fading.

"Lovely," Mr. Smythe says, clearly not meaning it. He gives Kurt another long once-over and Kurt recognizes his look suddenly: it's a Lima look, the one that says: oh it's one of them. Kurt's suddenly icy all over.

"You've made some interesting friends here, Sebastian," Sebastian's father says. "Tell me, Kurt, do you attend college nearby?"

Kurt grits his teeth, already knows the reaction to his answer. "No," he says. "I live nearby with an old friend from high school who's attending the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts."

Sebastian's father wrinkles his nose. "Ah," he says. "Yes, I've met Ms. Tibbideaux several times. She's a forceful woman-very set in her opinions." His eyebrow raises. "Do you have any plans to attend school soon, Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt's not sure how, but Mr. Hummel is starting to sound like an insult. "I'm not quite sure, Mr. Smythe," Kurt says and injects as much polite disdain as he can into the title.

Sebastian's father purses his lips. "You should pursue higher education, son," he says. "After all, it's not like there's a future for you in this nonsense." He waves a hand around them. "Or with singing showtunes."

Kurt's spine straightens-slow and sure, his cold fury unfurls. "Excuse me, Mr. Smythe," he snaps and he's satisfied to see Sebastian's father's attention focus on him. "But I happen to think there's much satisfaction and success to gain from a career in fine arts as there is in any other job."

Mr. Smythe's eyes narrow. "Oh?" he asks, the dangerous edge to his voice warning Kurt. "Are you planning to go into this field then, Mr. Hummel?" He raises an eyebrow. "What exactly are your plans for the future?"

Kurt falters because this is a question he's asked himself many times over the past weeks and has yet to find an answer to. "I like working here," he says, and he knows and curses that it sounds weak.

Mr. Smythe senses victory and smiles a wide, shark grin. "Let me give you a hard truth, Mr. Hummel, in the interest of helping you: there is no future in a job such as this." He gestures again to the room at large. "What exactly are any of you doing to benefit society, hm? You all flutter around, showing off your ridiculous outfits like it all means something more-trust me, Mr. Hummel, when I say it doesn't. Fashion is a cheap, consumer art for the bored and unimaginative and the sooner people realize that the better." He eyes Kurt, snorts. "I realize that your kind may not be able to access the higher circles of society, though, so maybe you're content to be stuck here."

"Father!" Sebastian snaps.

Kurt's throat is tight, clogged. He sees out of the corner of his eye that Isabelle is pale, looks just as shocked Kurt feels. "I see," he says, knows his voice is thick. "Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me, Mr. Smythe." He wants to say more, but he isn't quite sure where to find the words.

There's a touch at his elbow and Kurt turns to see Rachel and Brody there, both regarding him concern.

"Kurt," Rachel says, eyes darting between the Smythes and him. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Kurt can't describe his overwhelming relief. "Yes, of course," he says. He turns back to the Smythes. "If you'll excuse me," he says and lets Rachel tug him away.

"What the hell?" she hisses into his ear as she tugs him across the room, to one of the terrance doors and outside. Brody follows close on their heels. "Who were they?" Rachel demands once they're out in the cold night air, alone.

"Sebastian's parents," Kurt says. His throat is still tight and he's biting back on tears. "Who obviously have very strong opinions on what constitutes as a real job."

"We only got the tail end of it," Brody says, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

Kurt takes a deep breath. "I'm fine," he assures them. "It's nothing I haven't heard before, right? Everyone thinks that fashion and music will lead me nowhere. I'll just have to prove them wrong, that's all." Kurt laughs, a touch bitter and sings with some irony, "I feel better when beguiling, find that fashion keeps me smiling, but in my heart I know it's rather sad."

Rachel sighs. "Kurt," she says and then, because she is Rachel Berry, sings back, "That a life of great potential is dismissed as inconsequential."

Kurt really loves Rachel sometimes, because it's only when he's with her that things like this happen. He smiles a little as he sings, "And only ever seen as being cute. So I'll flutter to deceive-"

"Oh no, you must believe," Rachel cuts in, taking his hand, eyes soft and sincere. "One day you're bound to find . . ."

"A stronger suit," they finish together and then hug, tightly.

"Does this always happen with you two?" Brody asked, bemused, as they pull apart. Rachel and Kurt laugh.

"Singing is how we deal with pain," Kurt asserts. He takes a deep breath. "I can't let that man get to me," he tells Rachel. "He doesn't know me and he doesn't know anything about following your dreams, obviously, or he wouldn't shit all over mine."

"Actors probably make ten times his salary," Rachel says, scornful.

Kurt winces. "Well, he's a lawyer, so maybe not. But definitely a good point." He sighs. "Sebastian was right, he really is impossible to talk to. I'd hoped that he was over-exaggerating or something because they were fighting and that I could help them make up, you know? But I think that's impossible."

Rachel's about to reply when the door opens and Sebastian slips out. He goes immediately to Kurt, ignoring both Rachel and Brody.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "I'm sorry, I would never have brought you with me if I'd known he was going to-"

"It's alright," Kurt cuts in, smiling a little at Sebastian's wide-eyed panic. "It's nothing I've never heard before and Rachel helped me with the power of song."

"It heals all wounds," Rachel puts in, very serious.

"I see," Sebastian says, mouth quirking. "Rachel, Brody, if I could have a moment alone with Kurt?"

Rachel and Brody both turn on Kurt with identical questioning looks and Kurt wonders if he should tell them that they're spending too much time together.

"I'll see you guys inside," he assures them and they leave, hand in hand.

"I'm really sorry, Kurt," Sebastian says again, running a hand through his hair. "I tried to rip him a new one after you left but he didn't hear a word of it, just kept trying to talk to me about the firm."

"I'm not very surprised," Kurt admits. "But it's alright." He eyes Sebastian. "Do your parents know that you're gay?" he asks.

"Yes," Sebastian says, miserable. "But my dad, he . . ." Sebastian sighs. "Look, he's not a clean-cut homophobe. He's fine that I'm gay, but that's only because I'm not obviously gay. He doesn't like . . . ." He shoots Kurt an uncomfortable look.

"Flamers like me," Kurt finishes, a tad bitter because this is something that he's always had to deal with: well I'm fine with you being gay, but could you act like it a little less?

Sebastian winces. "Yes," he says. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing for your jackass of a father," Kurt snaps, irritated. Sebastian blinks at him, grins.

"Little bitch," he says. "Look, we'll just avoid him for the rest of the night now that we've done the necessary pleasantries."

"Sounds good to me," Kurt says. "I'd be happy if I never saw that man again, to be honest."

"Oh, I understand the feeling," Sebastian says. "Completely." He holds out a hand for Kurt. "Shall we, darling?"

Kurt, feeling a little more composed, takes it and follows Sebastian inside.

The party ends anticlimactically-Sebastian and Kurt manage to avoid the Smythes for the rest of the night, though Kurt imagines that he can feel one or both them looking at him at one point or another.

Kurt's never been more relieved to go home after a long day, if he's honest, and he vows that next time Isabelle hosts a party he's going to make sure that Sebastian's parents will not be there.

Still, he reflects once he's back in his bedroom, getting ready for sleep, it could have been worse. At least he's learned more about Sebastian now-and, more importantly, Sebastian trusts him enough to tell him these things about himself. Kurt smiles a little at his reflection-he likes the thought of Sebastian trusting him with secrets. It makes Kurt feel very warm.

There's a knock on his door. "Kurt?" Rachel says. "I know you're about to go to sleep but I have a question for you."

Kurt sighs. "Yes, Rachel?"

A long pause. "Do you like Sebastian?"

Kurt freezes, stares at his wide-eyed form in his mirror. Then he slumps. "Yes," he admits, because he needs to tell someone.

Rachel sighs. "You never pick the easy choice, do you, Kurt?" she asks and Kurt laughs because it's really so true.