Hey everyone! :D

Just one thing before we start…

Now, there are lots of people talking about character death…:'( I don't like to read character death, therefore I don't really like to write it. IF it does happen-and I'm not saying they're all going to die-after all SOMEONE is writing the diary…I won't drag any death scenes out, I promise :'( Hope you'll read on…? :')

And I promise they will be tons of fluffiness beforehand! :D

Hope you enjoy! :D PLEASE REVIEW! :D xxx

Dear Diary,

I thought I saw him today. I saw a boy, about his height and build, with dark hair, a mere few feet in front of me in the street.

Filling with warm, wonderful hope, like I never thought I'd feel again, I cried his name, wondering if, by some beautiful miracle, he had come back to me…

But no. The person spun curiously around to see who had screamed, just before I grabbed his arm. Different eyes. A different face. Different everything. It wasn't him.

How could it have been?

Uncomfortably, Kurt Hummel turned over in his hard, narrow bed in the crew lodgings. From the small, circular window, moonlight cut across his face like a knife, so sleep was hard to come by. Well. Even with the gentle, rocking motion of the ship which had quickly sent his snoring roommate into slumber, sleep would have been impossible anyway. After the events of that evening.

In his mind, he replayed the scene again and again. The breaking glass, the smash, the fright…then looking up, to see…

Who was this man? This man, with the beautiful, deep eyes, like pools of purest, shining gold…Kurt's breath caught just recalling them, how they'd looked at him, like they were staring right into his soul…

Who was he? And why couldn't Kurt stop thinking about him?

Anderson.

Kurt's head was spinning, like it was falling uncontrollably through the air, in far distant space. He felt…he couldn't even explain…his heart…it almost hurt, but it shone, brighter than the great, silver moon above…it was…Could he be…in love with this Mr Anderson?

He'd always believed in love at first sight. But he'd never thought it would happen to him…

Sighing in frustration, he slapped a hand to his forehead. For God's sake, this was a first class man. And he was just a waiter, working under bosses who treated him like a child and a nuisance. He'd had to work all his life just to survive, apprenticed to dress-makers and glovers, doing shop-work…until now. Now, was his chance. America, a new start…Broadway on the horizon, those beautiful, bright lights he'd always dreamed of…

And now this had happened.

Kurt sighed heartedly again. This Mr Anderson (God, even the name made him feel light) probably didn't even remember him…he probably had a girlfriend, or even wife…they came from different worlds…he wouldn't even think about the stupid, klutzy waiter who'd dropped his tray of champagne everywhere…

But…

Kurt was sure…he was sure…he'd stared back at him.

Looking out of the window, the sky was full of stars…was he looking at the same stars, wherever he was on this vast ship? He pictured his beautiful face in the stars, his kind, warm, velvety voice filling his soul…he imagined him there beside him…

His head knew he was stupid. There was nothing in this, no chance of any reciprocation of these feelings…but the message hadn't reached his heart. It was like it had closed off the veins running into it, closed off all reason, and only allowed itself to be full of…the deepest love for this Mr Anderson….

It sounded absurd. But to Kurt, nothing was more real. More aching, more intense, more painful, more wonderfully ridiculous…

Kurt knew he loved him with all his heart.


To Finn Hudson, life was coal. He lived and breathed it, and when he closed his eyes at night, he even dreamed about it. Well, coal and food…

Finn had at first worked down in a coal mine, the minute he was old enough-he was fascinated by the stuff. In his very distant memories, he could just about recall a dusty, coaly smell as big, strong arms held him…his late father. So Finn had pretty much from birth known he was destined to work with coal. And where better than on a beautiful, huge ship, where there was piles of the stuff in the engine room?

He didn't have huge aspirations. Finn just wanted to be happy, live a quiet life, find a girl, settle down, have a family. And keep on working with the coal…He would be lying if he said he wasn't loving every minute of his work on this ship.

Well, apart from the back ache, heat and sweating. But he was so used to it-and to the constant layers of coal on his face and clothes-he barely noticed. To be honest, when he looked in the mirror and saw there was no black marks on his cheeks, he felt oddly incomplete. It was quite funny, when his hands were completely covered in black matter and he ran into his stepbrother…oh, he only had to raise them a little, and Kurt would squeal and flinch away, like he was wielding knives at him, and warn him not to get any on his clothes, on pain of agonising death. Finn snorted to himself as he shovelled coal into a neat pile with his huge spade.

Although Kurt had been so utterly, undyingly grateful to him recently. Well, he guessed he had been the one to pull some strings and get him the waiter's job on board this ship in order for him to travel to America. He could never have afforded the fare, so this was the only way he could get to New York to achieve his dreams of being an actor on Broadway… but there was only so far grateful went until it became annoying. Kurt couldn't do enough for him, following him around like a devoted puppy dog when he wasn't working and trying to help him in any way he could. It was sweet, he guessed. But he was already getting teased by his co-workers…oh well. Even though they were the same age, Kurt was the little brother Finn had always wanted, and he loved him as such. And was very protective of him.

Finn wiped his forehead and dusted off his big, fire gloves. It got so hot down here, with the engine…he could really do with some food…

"Good morning, Finn," came a high, sweet voice from the doorway behind him suddenly. Talk of the devil.

"Hey!" Finn swung around to greet his brother. Kurt stood a little awkwardly in the doorway, obviously very keen not to get dirty while he was down here. He eyed the piles of coal warily, as if expecting them to attack. His pale face was-weird.

Finn frowned. Somehow, he didn't quite look himself…

"You okay?" he asked him, mildly concerned. Kurt did not answer.

"I brought you this," he said, handing him an impressive sandwich.

"Oh, you beauty!" Finn's face lit up as he took the food and began to eat it ravenously. Mmm… "Cheers," he thanked him, through a mouthful of cheese and various other ingredients.

"You're welcome,"

Finn looked up. Kurt's eyes were all…strange. They never looked at him, but into the distance. He seemed to look right through everything, trying to visualise something he couldn't see. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept all night. And, from the way he held himself-he looked pained.

Finn looked down at the half-eaten sandwich. This was a bribery sandwich. He could see right through his brother, always had been able to. Kurt wanted to talk about something.

"Okay," Finn leant on his shovel. "Let's get this over with," He looked expectantly at Kurt.

"What do you mean-?" the countertenor started innocently.

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Come on. You know we get through this much more quickly when you don't beat around the bush. Something's bothering you. Come on, what's up, little bro?"

Sighing sadly, Kurt seemed to shrink. He looked so small and lost, his eyes swimming with fright and confusion. He looked desperately up at Finn, seeming to crumble. "Oh Finn…I don't know what to do!" His voice was thinner than a reed, with a note of desperate longing. The eyes began to fill with-

"Oh no," Finn shook his head, putting his rough hands on Kurt's slender shoulders. "No crying. I'm not having the guys walk in to find you sobbing into my shirt…again…Come on, no waterworks. God, sometimes I think your tears alone could sink this whole ship!"

He tried to laugh-while panicking slightly. He hated it when Kurt cried-though he made out he knew exactly what to do, he never really did, and was always a bit of a fish out of water.

Kurt pursed his lips determinedly, blinking hard. He made a small moaning sound, like a kitten in pain.

"What's up, Kurt?" Finn asked, gentler, loosening his grip on the boy. "I bet it's nothing worth crying over…hey?"

Kurt paused, swallowing hard. Then-he shook his head. "You don't understand…" he murmured. "I…"

"You what?" Finn prompted, feeling the heat of the engine on his back.

Finally, Kurt seemed to just loose it. A loathed tear spilled defiantly from his eye as his whole face broke. He brushed it away, as if it had done him a personal wrong-but another replaced it in a heartbeat. He let out a longing, hopeless whimper. "I-" he stammered. "I…"

"Yes?" Finn was more than a little concerned now.

"I think I've fallen in love with a-a first-class man!" he rushed.

That was it.

Finn actually stepped back, shocked to the core. What?

He stared at his brother. There was nothing but truth, honesty, fright and agony in his his eyes. This was no joke.

It took Finn a minute to find his voice.

"What-okay-what do you mean fallen in love with?" he asked in amazement.

Kurt turned away, as if shamed-but Finn knew tears were now falling thick and fast. "I mean fallen in love with!" His voice suddenly rose to something almost hysterical. "I mean…I don't know what I mean!" More tears fell, splashing down his porcelain cheeks. "Oh Finn, I just had to say it out loud, to someone-or I'd go insane!"

He certainly seemed to be. As miniature waterfalls stained his face, Finn's heartstrings tugged with pity…but every other part of him screamed "He's finally gone mad!"

But Finn once again was struck dumb with shock as Kurt sank straight down on a pile of coal-head in his small, pale hands. He actually gasped. Here was Kurt, knowingly getting covered in soot!

This must be serious.

He couldn't believe it. And had no idea what to do.

"I…I've fallen in love with him…" Kurt whimpered into his hands one last time, as if he couldn't stand it-but couldn't help it. Awkwardly, Finn patted him on his shaking shoulder.

"Well," Finn coughed, searching desperately for something helpful to say. "Well...that was stupid,"


Blaine yawned. His sleepless night was beginning to have an effect on him, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Who was this stranger? And why did he enchant and hypnotise him like this?

He didn't even know his name…

Blaine was surprised at himself. After Jeramiah…Had he really, after meeting but once…fallen in love?

Love?

After a night tossing and turning, going through the situation in his head again and again…he knew. His heart couldn't lie. Blaine was in love with him. With this nameless angel…

"Hello? Hello? Anybody home?"

Slim hands waved in front of his face. Frowning, Blaine came out of his daydream to see Rachel's face right near his as she clicked her fingers at him. "There you are!" She shook her head, tutting. "You weren't even listening to me, were you? And you could have really benefited from my deep discussion on the standard of dance on Broadway. That's actually one of my uppermost reasons for choosing to move back to New York as opposed to London-I have always said, the British just cannot choreograph…Blaine? Blaine!"

"Oh?-I'm sorry, Rach," Blaine apologised. "I just…can't seem to concentrate today…" he said mildly, as they sat in one of the ship's many exquisite lounges playing chess. Well, trying to.

Blaine haphazardly moved his knight to a random square, E4, not really thinking about it.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel sighed. "Honestly, Blaine!" She pushed her queen forward and took the piece, adding it to the quickly growing collection of black pieces she'd captured from him. "Your game is unacceptably poor today…"

"Sorry, Rach," he apologised humbly again, unfocusedly moving his one captured white bishop around, thinking about the stranger, picturing his angelic face in the shiny table top.

Rachel's dark plucked eyebrows knitted together. Then suddenly-her eyes shone mischievously.

"Oh my goodness!" Her mouth stretched into a wide, triumphant grin. "Oh my goodness! No way…"

"What?" Blaine asked cautiously.

Giggling excitedly, she grabbed his hand. "You're in love!"

Blaine's mouth fell open. "What?"

"I knew it!" she sung triumphantly. "I knew it! Awwwh, Blainey!" She pinched his cheek, laughing. "Who is he?" Her eyes searched around the room, trying to guess. "Have you talked to him? What's he like? Does he like you back? Is he handsome?" she quizzed him keenly.

Snatching his hand away, Blaine shot to his feet. "I don't want to talk about it!" he snapped, annoyed. Turning quickly, he left room hurriedly, feeling guilty for being rude to his best friend-but he couldn't stand Rachel's excited questions just now.

"Hmph!" Rachel sighed, folding her arms. She rolled her eyes again-Blaine could be such a drama queen-and that was coming from her. She'd get it out of him…bless… Looking at the half-finished game of chess, she sighed-she was, like, five moves from checkmate…

"I'll finish the game with you,"

Rachel jumped as the voice came from behind her. Spinning in her seat, she looked up to see-the old man from last night. The one who hadn't stopped looking at her-well, more like staring. It had been horribly unnerving. She'd just tried to ignore it-but now here he was, skinny in his black suit, like a funeral director. greasy grey hair and all, looking down at her like she was a particularly delicious cake. Mr Jesse St James, she remembered. A businessman, high up, respected, with more money than anyone needed…

"Well?" he prompted, a sinister half-smile around his lips. "What do you say, huh?"

"Urm…" She searched her mind for a polite way to say "Get lost, creep,".

"Come on, dear," He sat down in front of her, where Blaine had been. "I'm a much better player than your friend…and then…" He raised a skunkish eyebrow. "perhaps to lunch with me?"

"Urm…No, thank you," she answered, springing up as fast as she could and starting to walk out of the room. On reaching the corridor, she quickened her pace, keen to get as far away as possible from Mr St James.

But a few corridors down…she felt someone following her. She walked even faster, warily looking over her shoulder, feeling immensely uncomfortable. Praying she wouldn't trip over her long, yellow satin dress, and wishing she wasn't wearing heels, she was practically running now. She could sense Jesse St James still following her…not far now, she told herself…but she kept walking through unfamiliar doors into strange corridors she'd never seen.

She'd gone the wrong way.

Stopping, she panted a little, panicking slightly. What to do? She couldn't go back…oh God. She could hear him, his heavy breathing as he tried to keep up…

"Hey-are you okay, ma'am?"

Shooting around-a door had opened. There, a sack of coal over his shoulder, and soot all over his face, was an unusually tall man. He would have been intimidating-but his eyes looked genuinely concerned.

"I-I'm okay," she tried, not wanting to bother him, as he looked busy.

"Miss Berry?" Jesse St James appeared behind her, that creepy smile still there. She couldn't help but flinch.

"Is he bothering you?" The tall man's mostly black face frowned slightly threateningly at Mr St James.

The old man let out a superior, but slightly nervous laugh. He was obviously weary of this hard-looking, work-roughened guy, with the heavy sack. "Never mind…I shall see you later, Miss Berry…look after yourself. Goodbye,"

He hobbled through the doors, back toward the first-class sections. Rachel let out a relieved breath, looking gratefully at the tall man. "Thank you, sir,"

The man looked pleasantly surprised. "No one's ever called me "Sir" before!" he laughed. He had a nice laugh, sort of boyish, but warm. Comforting, as if it could look after you. It made Rachel want to smile too.

"Maybe people ought to," she said politely. "You're a gentleman-far more of one than some of those who are frequently called by that title…"

"Ha…" the man laughed again. "Well…glad to, uh, help, ma'am,"

For some reason- Rachel didn't want to stop talking to him.

As he turned to go-she quickly reached into her pocket. "Here," She strode toward him, offering him her handkerchief. "For your face,"

"Oh?" The man looked confused. Even a little-shy? "You-you don't have to,"

"Call it a thank you," she smiled. "Here-let…me…"

She reached up-why was her hand shaking?-and began to wipe the thick layer of soot obscuring most of his face away.

The man stared at her in wonder as she worked. He couldn't tear his eyes away. There was silence for a while as Rachel cleaned him up. She dabbed and brushed it away-until skin began to appear.

"You're actually handsome under there," she said lightly. Crap, why did she say that?

"T-Thank you," he said, stumbling over the words a little. He seemed a little stunned.

When she had finally finished, she stepped back to admire her work, holding the blackened cloth gingerly. The man put a large, rough hand to his cheek, seeming surprised to feel the soft, clean skin. He smiled. "Hey-thanks,"

Rachel liked him.

"Pleasure," she smiled, dumping the handkerchief in a bin next to them. She held out her hand to him. "Rachel Berry,"

"Oh?" He looked surprised-but pleased. "Great to meet you, uh, Miss Berry. I'm-Finn. Finn Hudson,"

"Charmed," she smiled, as they shook hands.

Was it her-or was there a spark?

Thank you for reading, more soon! :D Hope you enjoyed, please review! PVG24601xxx