Author's Note:
This chapter is from Blaine's point of view. It explains how Blaine came to run a candle store, and tells us about Kurt and Blaine's developing interest in each other. Happy reading!
Chapter 2: There You Are
Blaine whistled as he rolled up the store's security grille that Saturday morning. The weather was lovely for the time of year, somewhere near a bird was singing, and he'd had the world's best cronut for breakfast, so he felt on top of the world, and more than ready to help out another gaggle of hopefuls needing a cure for what ailed them.
Blaine's candles were special. Not just because each and every one of them was hand-made and a piece of art, if he said so himself, but also because he infused them with healing magic.
Of course, no-one could know there was magic involved. That was strictly forbidden. So Blaine marketed his candles as aromatherapy, making sure the scents he used were from plants that would help solve a certain problem, even without magic. That meant his energy candles either had citrussy scents or a kick of peppermint or rosemary, and his relaxation candles smelled like chamomile or lavender.
His brother rolled his eyes at this brand of magic. Cooper preferred to use his abilities to pick up women and to get rich without having to lift a finger. He considered Blaine a fool for going to all this trouble to help people.
Blaine's parents had their doubts too, wary of having their family's secret abilities exposed, but Blaine assured them he was really careful. He didn't work miracles. There was nothing the candles did that couldn't have been achieved by other means, and he always made sure to mention those other remedies to his customers. So in the end, who was to say it was the candle who'd made the customer relax, or rather the breathing exercises Blaine had recommended? And that back pain could just as well have disappeared because of the flexibility stretches Blaine had demonstrated.
His candles were a hit from Day 1, though. He never advertised, but somehow, new clientele kept finding the way to his shop, sent there by word of mouth.
And yes, some of them only came to flirt, but most customers had an issue to deal with and hoped his candles would bring the answer.
Blaine listened to them all, one by one, and if it was a more challenging problem he didn't have a ready-made candle for, he pieced together what exactly the person needed and jotted it down to infuse their candle with it. He'd never disappointed a single customer. He'd helped them all, in a myriad of small ways, and it gave him so much job satisfaction.
What did it matter if Coop laughed at him and called him a perfect boy scout, doing his good deeds every day?
Helping people was exactly what he wanted to do, and he believed it was what he was meant to do. And it was a right sight better than using magic to con people, so there!
Inside the store, he straightened the displays and restocked the candles that were in short supply, and then settled behind his desk to wait until he had a sale to ring up.
Most of the morning passed uneventfully, but just before noon, someone stepped into the store that made Blaine sit up and pay attention.
Pretty much all of his customers were women, and they checked him out as much as the candles he sold. By now, he was used to telling them gently that he was gay whenever they flirted with him or asked him out if they were bold enough.
That didn't stop them from buying candles, though, and it didn't stop them from sending other people his way, to let the cycle continue.
Once in a blue moon, a man found Blaine's store. Usually by accident, and usually they weren't looking for a remedy for some ailment, but rather for a cute gift for their girlfriend or mom. They had no clue what to pick. They would grab the first candle they saw, or make a beeline for Blaine to help them out. Blaine sent these men home with a beautifully gift-wrapped candle that had a mild happiness or relaxation charm on it.
The man who had just come in, however, did not look indecisive or out of his depth. He was checking all the candles and their description cards methodically, as if looking for something specific. Blaine let him browse at his ease, admiring the man's good looks and superior dress sense, but then he heard the man say something. He was too far away for Blaine to catch the gist of it, but just in case it had been a summons, he hastened towards his new customer and asked him how he could help.
The man looked taken aback. Clearly, he had been talking to himself and had not meant to attract Blaine's attention. Blaine, feeling pushy, stammered something about thinking the customer had called him.
The man took pity on him and came up with a question to ask. Apparently, he needed a candle that would help him sleep.
Blaine jotted down the order – Mr. Hummel? Like that senator from Ohio? - and asked all the relevant follow-up questions, noticing the dark rings under the man's eyes and his crestfallen expression when he mentioned the candle wasn't available straightaway.
Aww, the guy hasn't had a good night's sleep in ages, has he? Good thing he's come to me.
Blaine promised he'd have a candle ready by next week. Thankfully, it would be full moon in just three days. Perfect for a sleeping spell.
Mr. Hummel left quickly after that, but he stayed on Blaine's mind all day, and as soon as he came home, he started assembling all the ingredients he'd be needing for the sleeping spell he'd put on the candle, even though it would be another three nights until he could get started on it.
It seemed like the interest was mutual. On Monday, just before closing time, Mr. Hummel popped back in, sheepishly mentioning he'd been in the neighbourhood, and well, he'd just been hoping the candle would be ready earlier. He didn't seem at all put out when Blaine said he hadn't started working on the order yet, nodding as if that was the answer he'd been expecting, and then started talking about the Vogue photoshoot that had brought him to Blaine's neck of the woods.
He blushed prettily when Blaine surmised he was one of the models. "No, no, I'm just Isabelle Wright's assistant. I run errands, mostly. But it's so interesting to see it all happen. Isabelle has such a good eye for pairing clothes and accessories. I'm learning a lot."
Well, Isabelle Wright was someone Blaine had always admired, too, and after a bit of gushing from his part, soon they were deep in conversation about Vogue and the latest fashion trends.
In passing, Mr. Hummel complimented Blaine on the bow tie he was wearing, and Blaine beamed.
They didn't stop talking until a loud beep made Mr. Hummel jump a foot in the air and exclaim, "Oh, is it that late already? Sorry for keeping you this long, you must want to close the shop and go home. It was nice talking to you. Bye!"
And off he ran before Blaine could answer.
The next day, Mr. Hummel popped in again, around lunchtime. "Isabelle had a hankering after those vegan cinnamon rolls they make here just around the corner, and I bought an extra one for you, to make up for keeping you here so late yesterday. They're really good, I promise you."
And off he was again, before Blaine could say thank you.
That night, it was full moon, and at midnight, Blaine sat criss-cross applesauce on the grass under the oak tree, coaxing a moonbeam to curl up in the palm of his hand, and then using it to decorate a blue-green candle with a pattern of silver swirls rather like ocean waves.
He'd been working on the candle all evening, infusing it with the essence of sweet dreams, with a relaxation charm of his own invention, with loose-limbed drowsiness and a gentle fog that would steal over the brain of the candle's user, blanketing any and all worries to put them to rest for the night. The moonbeam he'd caught and draped over the candle in a pleasing pattern would strengthen its effect and make it last longer.
Blaine grinned in satisfaction.
Mr. Hummel would sleep like a log from now on, that was a guarantee.
He brought the candle to the store the next morning, waiting in happy anticipation, but Mr. Hummel didn't turn up that day. Blaine even waited until a bit past his usual closing time, but to no avail. He closed up the store and decided to pop into the bakery around the corner for a cronut to lift his spirits again.
Back on the street, just as he was taking his first big bite, a chipper voice said, "Oh hey! Addicted to baked goods, too, huh? We have that in common!"
Blaine, taken by surprise, choked on the bit of cronut he had in his mouth, coughing, coughing and coughing like mad, crumbs flying everywhere.
A hand hit him between the shoulder blades several times, helping him cough up the food that had gone down the wrong pipe.
Finally, he calmed down enough to look up, eyes still watering, to see who'd been talking to him and had helped him get over his coughing fit.
"Mr. Hummel!"
Because of course it was.
The most gorgeous guy he'd met in years, witty and interesting and easy to talk to, and Blaine kept behaving like a moron around him, first approaching him when he wasn't looking for sales advice, then babbling non-stop about Isabelle Wright and Vogue, then doing nothing but gape unattractively when Mr. Hummel brought him the cinnamon bun, and now this. Making a spectacle of himself right in the middle of the street. Classy. Not.
Why was it that around women, he could be suave and debonair and charming, but as soon as he was in the vicinity of a guy that made his heart beat a little faster, he started behaving like a bumbling idiot?
"You can call me Kurt, you know," said Mr. Hummel – all right, Kurt it was, then. "Hey… Are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you. I'm sorry."
Blaine shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I was… so focussed on my cronut I hadn't seen you."
Kurt laughed. "And then I go and ruin your enjoyment of it. Want me to go buy you a new one, to make up for it?"
"No need, there's still more than half left. Thanks, though."
"I'm more of a cheesecake lover, myself," said Kurt. "They have this chocolate and cherry combo here that's divine. A cheesecake version of Black Forest cake. I love it."
Blaine hummed non-committally, thinking but not saying that a combination like that didn't seem appealing to him in the least.
"Come, I'm taking you to Starbucks. You need to drink something after coughing like that. My treat."
And Kurt steered Blaine towards the coffee shop in question, chattering happily about another photo shoot he'd assisted at.
"I'm fine, really, you don't have to do this," Blaine protested.
Kurt grinned and winked at him. "I want to."
Blaine felt his stomach flutter. That was definitely flirting, right? He wasn't all making it up in his head this time, was he?
About an hour later, they were in the middle of a discussion about the Fantastic Beasts films when Kurt's phone beeped.
"Oh, my shift!" Kurt exclaimed. "I got to run. Gunther's going to kill me if I'm late again."
And before Blaine could so much as blink, Kurt had bolted like a skittish colt, leaving him staring at his back once more.
Blaine looked down at the table, where only crumbs and empty coffee cups remained, and felt the corners of his mouth turn up.
It's a good sign when someone is so engrossed in a conversation with you that they forget they have places to be, right?
He cleared the table and made his way home, wondering what kind of shift Kurt was working and if he'd managed to arrive on time.
I hope he'll drop in tomorrow… Oh! I forgot to tell him his candle's ready!