Happy Saturday and welcome to a new story!
I'm so, so happy that I get to share a new one. It was hard to get it started and there were some obstacles in the way, but then I finally got to a point where I was satisfied with it, and now here it is, first chapter out in the world :)
Just a quick note on the topic/trope: This is an age gap story. There is quite an age difference between them, but they are both consenting adults. However, if this is not your cup of tea, you might want to stop while you're ahead. Hopefully my next story will be more to your liking.
The title comes from the Keane song (is anyone surprised at this point?)
As usual, I want to thank Christine for being the most patient beta in the world. I'm glad we get to keep working together.
And huge thanks to Sofi, who not only made the (amazing, wonderful) artwork, but has also been really encouraging during the process of writing this fic.
Okay, without further ado... here we go again :)
Enjoy!
As he balanced two cups of coffee and a paper bag in one hand, plus the dry-cleaning hanging on his other arm, Blaine stepped into the elevator and skillfully pressed the right button without disturbing any of the things he was carrying. This was a dance he performed regularly.
The elevator stopped on the top floor and Blaine exited, using his key to open the door and walk into the large penthouse that was as familiar as his own place. He dropped the keys into the bowl on the side table, before he placed the tray with the coffees and the bag next to it and hung the dry-cleaning on the doorknob so he could take his coat off. He hung it inside the closet before retrieving everything else and went straight to the kitchen.
The refrigerator door was open, and once it was pushed close, it revealed his older brother standing there barefoot wearing nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips. His wet hair had been brushed back off his forehead and he sent a bright smile in Blaine's direction. "Good morning!"
The Anderson brothers didn't look much alike. In fact, most people, at first glance, didn't think they were related at all. Cooper had the blue eyes and dark hair of a classic movie star and he was several inches taller than Blaine, something he loved teasing his little brother over. His broad shoulders and debonair smile got attention wherever he went, and since Cooper wasn't shy about throwing a flirty wink here and there, he was noticed often. Women constantly slipped their phone numbers to him – and so did men. He was handsome and loud, confident and charming, and people seemed to flow to him naturally, like moths attracted to a very bright light.
In comparison, Blaine had always felt like, no matter what he did, he was never enough.
No one ever took the time to even glance at Blaine when Cooper was standing next to him. It used to bother him when he was younger but now, he just accepted it.
Blaine couldn't have been more different. His dark hair wasn't wavy like Cooper's but curly enough to make it hard to control, so he always kept it styled and tamed with gel. He had a strong jaw and full lips, and whisky eyes. His frame was a lot more compact than his brother's was, but still fit and in good shape after practicing boxing for so many years. Where Cooper was blatant and sometimes brash, Blaine was calmer, more grounded, steadier. He'd had to learn to keep a level head to counteract his brother's spontaneity.
"Morning, Coop," Blaine replied, setting the coffee tray and paper bag on the kitchen island. "Here's your non-fat latte, and I got you an almond croissant. You have a lunch meeting today with the producers from the show to go over details for next season. I'll text you time and place in a bit so you won't forget. And here's your suit for the event tonight."
It also helped being such opposites when you worked as your own brother's assistant and had to manage his entire life.
"You're my favorite brother," Cooper said with a charming grin as he leaned against the counter and grabbed his breakfast.
"I'm your only brother," Blaine reminded him patiently, as he went to check the pantry and fridge to make sure they didn't need to be restocked.
This was technically not true, since they were actually half-brothers. Cooper's mother had been Oscar Anderson's first wife. She had died in childbirth, so Cooper had never met her and had been raised mostly by nannies, as their father hadn't been around much at the time – or ever, really, unless it was convenient for him. One of those nannies had been a beautiful Filipino woman who Oscar fell in love with and later married. She had died when Blaine was only five in a car accident. He didn't remember her much, but sometimes, in his dreams, he swore he could see her smile.
He never told Cooper about it. But they didn't really talk about their family, so it wasn't exactly surprising.
Blaine quickly made a list of the things he needed to buy at the supermarket, before he turned back to his brother. "Okay, I'm going grocery shopping. Add whatever else you might need to the list."
Cooper distractedly scribbled a few things here and there, as he said: "You could come to the event with me tonight. There's still time to get you a nice suit."
Blaine had moved to the living room area. There were clothes all over the couches. Cooper was a messy man. "Can't you hang up your clothes? Or at least throw them in the laundry basket? I'm not asking for much here, Coop."
Cooper shrugged. He didn't care much for the practical, boring, everyday things. He had people doing that for him so he only had to worry about his career and the things he actually cared about. "Blaine. The event. It'll be fun, come on. I think it's for a charity, too? Some sad disease? I'm not sure, but there'll be booze and pretty people. You should come."
Blaine had already been at too many of those events, and he wasn't eager to attend another one. "Sorry, I have plans with Tina tonight."
Cooper rolled his eyes. "Aren't you bored of hanging out with her? She's so bland ever since she got married and popped out a couple of kids…"
"Cooper, that's really awful, even for you," Blaine said, looking at his brother sternly. Sometimes he felt like he was the older one. "She's my best friend. And what you call bland is actually what most people call mature. You should try that some time. You're almost fifty…"
"How dare you!" Cooper exclaimed, scandalized, dropping his croissant dramatically on the counter. "Take that back!"
"You are almost fifty, though," Blaine replied, because it was so, so easy riling him up about his age.
"Forty seven is not fifty, take that back," Cooper spat angrily.
The truth was that Cooper didn't look a day older than forty and he wore his age well. He was elegant and handsome, so even a few grey hairs would have looked great on him, if he didn't insist on dyeing them. Sometimes Blaine, whose thirty eighth birthday was just around the corner, felt older than him.
He didn't dwell on it much, though. It was just the way things were.
Blaine, still picking up clothes, lifted a tiny red dress from behind the couch cushions and arched an eyebrow at his brother.
"Oh, yeah," Cooper said, half smirking, half wincing. "I may or may not have company."
Blaine wished he was surprised. He was not.
"I think she's in the shower. Her name is something that starts with a C… Clara? Camille?" Cooper said thoughtfully. He paused to take a sip of his coffee. "Chiara! That's it. Would you mind making sure she gets on a cab? She looks like she might dwell, you know? Tell her I had to leave and that I'll call her? You know the drill."
Blaine knew the drill. He wished he didn't.
This was his job and this was his life. He had been taking care of Cooper for almost two decades now. He didn't mind – he loved his brother, he was all the family he had left, and he wasn't sure anyone else would have put up with him, so he was all Cooper had left, too.
Or maybe he just told himself he didn't mind to silence the voices that kept asking him when he was going to get to live his own life for a change.
He had been ignoring them for so long, he almost didn't hear them anymore.
At the end of the day, Blaine headed home in a taxi, a lonely bag of groceries on the seat next to him with everything he would need for the week. Unlike his brother, Blaine had a simple life. He didn't go to parties very often and had few but loyal friends. Whatever craziness and luxury managed to bleed into his own life, came from Cooper.
As the taxi pulled up at the curb, Blaine fished some money out of his pocket and paid the driver, before getting out of the car, groceries secured in his arms. He lived in a quaint, lovely brownstone in a relatively quiet street, at least for Manhattan. It was the only thing he had ever splurged money on without thinking too much.
"I want a home," he had told Cooper, when his brother had suggested he got something a little more opulent. "I want a place I can be happy to get to every day, somewhere I feel comfortable and at peace."
Cooper, who needed to be constantly surrounded by sound, by people, by anything that kept him from getting bored, had looked at Blaine like he didn't understand how he didn't want more from life.
Sometimes Blaine wondered why Cooper hated silence so much, why he needed all those distractions. He wondered what his brother heard when he was alone with his thoughts.
He got the front door open and stepped inside, away from the early fall chill that had begun to settle over the city. He paused at the entryway to drop his keys into the bowl on the side table, left his groceries on the floor for a moment to remove his jacket and hung it in the closet by the door, and then headed straight to the kitchen.
Whoever knew Blaine Anderson well could see him in every inch of his house. Most walls were white, to attract the light from the large windows and make the rooms look brighter. The shiny wooden floors gave a warm feeling to the entire house, just as the exposed brick behind the fireplace or behind the stove in the kitchen. The big black leather couch in the living room was cozy and comfortable, and looked worn, from the many times Blaine had sat there to read a book or watch a movie. It all added up to make it look like a home and not something that had been copied from a magazine, much like Cooper's penthouse.
The kitchen was one of his favorite places in the house. He liked to cook but rarely did it because it seemed like such a waste of time to cook only for himself. There was a breakfast bar with comfortable barstools and stainless steel appliances. He dropped the bag of groceries on the black granite countertop and began to take his purchases out of it, before putting them away. Then he leaned against the counter and took his phone out of his pocket.
[Blaine – 7:32 PM]: Hey you. Just got home. I'll take a quick shower and change clothes and meet you at the bar?
He headed upstairs and into his bedroom to choose an outfit. He was trying to decide between a gray button down that looked great with his favorite bowtie and a patterned shirt that he hadn't worn yet when his phone buzzed with a reply.
[Tina – 7:35 PM]: Uuuugh, sorry, sorry, sorry! Mike brought the plague home from work, or at least that's what I assume it is. He's super sick and Sophie caught it from him and it's only a matter of time before Riley catches it too... sorry, babe. We're going to have to reschedule.
Blaine winced down at his phone in sympathy, before he typed a quick reply: Don't worry! Of course we can reschedule. I hope everyone feels better soon. Let me know if you need anything.
He stared at his phone for a little while, but Tina didn't reply. She was probably too busy running from her sick husband to her sick daughter while keeping baby Riley away from both of them. Maybe he would drop by the next day, bring them some soup, and make sure she had gotten some rest as well...
Tina was his best friend. She had been at his side through thick and thin and Blaine would spend the rest of his days feeling grateful for her and trying to show her just how much he appreciated her.
He dropped the phone on his bed before he put away his outfit options and grabbed a comfy pair of jeans and a soft sweater instead. It looked like he was staying in tonight.
He went back down to the kitchen and opened the fridge to stare at the contents as he tried to decide what to do. He pulled out a few things and made himself a quick salad, which he ate sitting at the breakfast bar, the silence of the house surrounding him.
He thought of Cooper, who was probably on his way to that event already, dressed in his expensive suit and wearing a bright smile that would charm people instantly. He would probably find himself surrounded by pretty women at the blink of an eye, and Blaine would have to walk her down to a cab the next morning and give her the usual speech of "Cooper's just very busy right now, but he'll call you as soon as he's free."
He wished Cooper realized how lucky he was that the world seemed to stop and shift around him to accommodate his every whim. He wished he would find happiness, real happiness, because he sometimes thought his brother hid behind a facade of fame and luxury to avoid thinking about how everything in his life was so plastic and shallow...
Blaine looked around at his empty kitchen. Who was he to judge his brother?
After he finished his dinner and washed his dishes, he headed into the living room and dropped down on the couch with a sigh. He changed the channels on the television for a while until he found a movie he liked and had seen at least a million times by now. But there was something so comforting in knowing exactly what was going to happen, in smiling just a few seconds before the familiar joke was uttered by one of the characters, in holding his breath when he knew his favorite scene was coming up...
Once the movie was over, still not tired enough to go to bed, Blaine walked to the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge. When he returned to the couch and he flipped through the channels once again, distractedly, he ended up finding his brother's face on the screen.
This wasn't an unusual occurrence. Though it was currently on hiatus, Cooper had been a celebrity judge on a music reality show for three years now. And, before that, he'd done some acting, mostly in movies, and sometimes guest starring on a sitcom or two. But, mainly, Cooper's career had initially taken off in the music world.
It was his father who had thrust them into this life.
By the time Cooper was eighteen and fresh out of high school, Oscar had already taken him to so many auditions, they had lost count. Cooper was a very handsome boy and their father was convinced he could make it as a model, or as an actor, even. Cooper had always had a flair for the dramatic, so it wasn't a very crazy idea, really.
He hadn't known what he wanted to do with his life yet either, and a career in the spotlight, the notion of fame and fortune got into his head. He went to every audition, practiced lines very loudly in his room each night, and listened to every little piece of advice Oscar had for him. Eventually, he hit the jackpot. Only it wasn't his acting what brought him to the pot of gold.
At the beginning of the millennium, boybands had dominated the charts. Cooper had never been a very musically focused person – he had a great voice, but he didn't really pay much attention to it. But when the opportunity to join four other guys to form a new pop supergroup appeared, he jumped at the chance and never looked back. Heartbr8krs became successful overnight and stayed together for over five years, when the reign of boybands began to fall and be replaced by other artists and genres.
Cooper (and their father) had been smart, though. Instead of letting people forget all about him as the band fell into oblivion, he held on tight to his success and his fame, and Oscar, who had been his manager since the first day, found new projects for him to get involved. Soon, he released his own solo album, then a Christmas one, before he slowly moved into other areas of the industry. Even after their father was no longer in the picture, Cooper managed to keep his head above water, to always make himself relevant, to make the right connections, charm the right people.
The picture on the screen was of Cooper in the earlier days of his fame, wearing a ridiculous baggy shirt and baggy pants with the waistband of his underwear showing. Blaine smiled. Cooper hated those pictures.
"... and he's now part of The Brightest Star, of course, one of the most successful reality shows right now, which is coming back in just a few weeks with its fourth season. Cooper has been one of the favorite celebrity judges from the beginning and he's actually won the competition with one of his contestants twice. Not bad, huh?" The host of the show was saying, smiling at her panel with her bright red lips that matched her dress perfectly.
"I love that show!" One of the guys in the panel said. "Cooper is amazing in it."
"It's been great catching up with Cooper's career over the years..." the woman said, only to get interrupted by one of her co-hosts.
"Since we're talking about Cooper, here's a perfect addition to this segment, since it's called Where are they now?" She said. "Most of you probably don't even remember this, you guys are too young, but... Cooper wasn't the only one in his family to go into the music industry."
Blaine's eyes widened as he stared at the television.
"You're right, Vanessa!" The host said. "He had a younger brother, what was his name?"
"He had that very catchy song," Vanessa continued. "I honestly cannot remember his name for the life of me, but he disappeared completely after his one-hit-wonder. I remember he'd signed a record deal back then, but the album never saw the light of day when the success of the song died out after a while..."
"I remember he was sort of cute," the guy in the panel said.
"Well, not as handsome as Cooper, though," Vanessa said with a laugh. "That guy has been turning heads for two decades now. We sure as hell haven't forgotten about him."
Blaine reached for the remote and turned the television off.
One evening he had been playing around with a keyboard in his bedroom, entertaining himself while his father managed Cooper's affairs and his brother was in dance rehearsal. He had been toying around with writing his own songs for a while, and he was trying one out, singing it out loud for the first time to see how it felt, when his father had walked into his room, eyebrows almost to his hairline in surprise.
"What is that?" He had asked.
Startled, Blaine had pushed the keyboard away. "Sorry. Was that too loud? I was just trying something..."
His father entered further into the room. Cooper looked so much like him, sometimes it felt like they were twins. But Oscar lacked Cooper's glow and general enthusiasm for life. He was always so serious. He reached for some of the sheets of paper lying all around Blaine and looked at the scribbled lyrics for such a long time, Blaine began to squirm.
"I didn't know you could sing," Oscar commented after a while, finally looking at his younger son. "I'll talk to Cooper's producers tomorrow. Maybe we can do something with you..."
"Oh," Blaine had muttered, eyes wide. He loved music. He had always loved music. He never thought he would be allowed to do something with this love, though. "Really? Do you think I could...?"
"I mean, you're not your brother, so don't get your hopes up," Oscar had replied, rather brusquely. "But we need to do something with this. It can't go to waste."
And despite the harsh words, Blaine had smiled.
He probably should have known better, though. After all, everyone kept reminding him that he was not his brother.
Now he sat in his darkened living room, a thirty seven year old who had never accomplished anything for himself, who had always lived in the shadow of the other men in his family, who had never been taken seriously.
These were the thoughts he never allowed himself to have. He was too afraid everything would crumble around him if he allowed himself to dwell too much on all the years he had wasted being what other people expected of him.
It felt as if suddenly the walls were closing in on him. He felt suffocated. He couldn't sit here surrounded by his own loneliness and years' worth of disappointment and misguided decisions. He couldn't sit here thinking about how it was probably too late for him to finally be and have everything he ever wanted.
Did he even know what he wanted anymore?
He stood up, beer forgotten on the coffee table, leaving condensation rings on the wooden surface, and headed towards the door. He reached for a jacket and his keys and left the house, the chilly night air hitting him immediately. A good walk would make him feel refreshed, it would reset his system and make him stop being so stupid.
Maybe Cooper wasn't the only one who couldn't handle the silence sometimes.
He walked aimlessly for what felt like a really long time, but the thoughts hadn't stayed at home. They had followed him out the front door and seemed to be holding onto his hand hard enough that he couldn't shake them off.
He thought about how no one had cared about what he wanted to do, how they had all tried to make him into a fabricated popstar in his brother's image. How they had thought his songs were too meaningful, when what he needed was something catchy. How his father had tried to turn him into a mini Cooper who would bring him as much money as his older son did, how he had tried to control every single aspect of Blaine's life once he realized he, too, could be useful to him.
He thought about being a teenager, realizing he wasn't like the other boys, trying to learn how to deal with his feelings, being terrified that someone would expose him. He thought about his father finding him kissing a boy backstage at one of Cooper's shows, how horrified he had looked, how he had forbidden Blaine to ever do that again.
He thought about being interviewed, back when they all thought maybe he could be successful too, about being asked if there was a special girl in his life, and all Blaine wanted to do was run away and hide and never be seen again.
Blaine sometimes wished he had learned how to stand up for himself sooner. By the time he had finally decided to live his life without asking anyone's permission, it felt like it was too late. He had lost himself in the process, too, and he still wasn't sure he had completely found himself again.
Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling like he needed to catch his breath, Blaine stood under the awning of a random shop and closed his eyes for a moment. Most days, he could keep all these thoughts at bay. Most days, he was grateful for what he had, for what he had managed to build with Cooper by his side.
But then he was hit by the sad reality that he had never done a single thing he had wanted in his whole life, and he felt so overwhelmed he could barely move.
Blaine looked around until he recognized exactly where he was. There was diner a few steps away that he had never been in, but that felt like his best option at the moment. He needed to sit down for a while and regain his composure before he made his way back home.
To an always empty house.
With a deep breath, he pulled away from the wall he had leaned on. Right above the doors, there was a neon sign that said Spotlight Diner. From outside, it looked like one of those 50s diners he and Cooper had loved so much when they were younger. He went inside and sat in the first available booth he found, dropping his head to the back of the bench and closing his eyes for a moment.
Today, life felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders.
Kurt Hummel had had a pretty bad day.
It started with his alarm failing to go off and making him late to his dance midterm. He was lucky his professor was in an unusually good mood, because otherwise she wouldn't have let him do it at all. But good mood or not, Cassandra July wasn't one for sugar-coating the truth, so when he was done she simply stared at him in silence for a very long time, making him more and more nervous with every passing second.
"Did you even practice your routine at all, Hummel?" She asked at last, one perfectly waxed eyebrow arched.
"Of course I did!" Kurt reassured her immediately. But if he had to be honest, he could have rehearsed a lot more. When she continued to watch him, clearly not believing him, he sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry. It's just that... I'm having a hard time balancing my classes, my internship and my job. It's a lot. I know it's not an excuse, but I need to learn how to get a better grip on things. I'll do better next time."
"You're lucky there will be a next time," she replied harshly. "You get one more chance. If I don't see any improvements, you're out of my class. You'll have to try again next semester."
Kurt had taken a deep breath and nodded.
The afternoon hadn't been bad, per se. It just had been so hectic, Kurt had barely had time to gulp down a cup of coffee that would get him through it. But he didn't exactly care – his internship at Vogue was one of his favorite things in his life right now, aside from cheesecake and living in New York City.
Isabelle, his boss, absolutely adored him, which made him unpopular amongst the other interns. But he didn't exactly care – he hadn't gone into the fashion industry to make friends, after all, not with how cutthroat everyone was. He just wanted to be allowed to be part of this world he had loved since he was just a kid who learned to match colors and tie his first bowtie.
As soon as he had stepped into the office, Isabelle had walked out of her office and threaded her arm through his. "Finally, I've been waiting for you! How was your dance midterm? We have to run. I thought you'd like to come with me – we are having a little photoshoot at the Empire State Building and I know how much you still love those touristy things. You're still such an Ohio kid at heart. Come, there's no time to waste!"
Kurt ignored the way the other interns stared daggers at his back as he followed Isabelle into the elevator. "Wait, I had emails to reply to and you asked me to finish with that report on the new trends on leather..."
"Oh, that can wait," Isabelle said with a grin, as she tossed her long, wavy blonde hair over her shoulder. "You won't want to miss this."
What he loved most about his internship was how unexpected every day was. When he had first been interviewed for it, he had imagined he would be fetching coffee for important people all day long and, if he was lucky, he would be allowed to sit in a meeting or two and see how the fashion world actually worked. He hadn't imagined Isabelle would take him under her wing like this.
Sometimes it made him wonder why he bothered with dance classes and acting seminars.
When Kurt had been in high school, his passion had been musical theatre. He wanted to be on a Broadway stage singing his heart out and receiving standing ovations each night. He wanted the spotlight and the praise. So he had applied to NYADA, hoping it would take him where he wanted to be. He hadn't expected to be rejected and having to figure out a new path for himself.
As he waited to be able to reapply to his dream school to get back on track, he hadn't wanted to be idle. From all the options he considered, the one that had worked out perfectly was this: as soon as Isabelle interviewed him, she didn't let him go. Not too long after that, he had reapplied to NYADA and finally gotten in, but something had changed.
And suddenly Kurt began to doubt himself – what if he had chased his dreams of stardom just because he was used to them? What if there was something else out there for him that he hadn't yet considered?
But since he couldn't make up his mind and he didn't want to throw away any opportunities, Kurt kept playing both sides, so to speak, and hoping one day he would be sure enough to make up his mind.
He didn't want to make the wrong choice and have to crawl back to Ohio to lick his wounds.
After an intense afternoon helping Isabelle, Kurt finally headed home feeling ready to change into comfy clothes and maybe relax with a few episodes of trashy reality television. If he was lucky, he would even be able to convince his roommates to order some pizza...
But once he made it all the way to Bushwick (one day he would be able to live somewhere in Manhattan, he hoped) and opened the door to the loft he shared with two of his friends from high school, he found Santana pacing the living room, looking stunning in a very tight black dress, heels sharp enough to stab someone, black hair falling down her back in a gorgeous cascade.
"Hummel, where were you?" She asked as soon as she saw him. "You should have been home at least an hour ago."
"Sorry, I had to help Isabelle at a photoshoot and it ran a little longer than expected," Kurt replied, as he unbuttoned his peacoat. "What's wrong?"
"You're supposed to cover for me tonight at the diner!" She exclaimed. "Gunther called when you didn't make it on time for my shift."
Kurt groaned. "Oh shit. That was tonight? I'm sorry, Santana. It's been such a long day..."
"Well, get over there already," she said, almost ushering him back out the door. "I promised him you would be there soon..."
"Wait, I need to get my uniform and..." Kurt ran a hand through his hair. "Are you sure I have to? Can't Rachel cover for us...?"
"No! She's on a late rehearsal. I should have already left too, I'm going to be late for my date. Come on, Kurt, you promised," she said, a little desperately. "I'll cover for you tomorrow so you can get some sleep. But please..."
"Okay, okay," Kurt muttered with a sigh. "I'll get changed and I'll be on my way in a couple of minutes, don't worry. Just get out of here."
Santana grabbed her coat and purse and was out of the loft before Kurt was even done talking. Feeling increasingly miserable, Kurt marched into the section of the loft they called his bedroom (he would give his right arm for walls and a door, god) and immediately changed into his uniform.
By the time he finally made it to the Spotlight Diner, he was spectacularly late and Gunther, the owner, wasn't very pleased with him. Afraid he would take it out on Santana, Kurt promised to make up for it by staying an extra hour. Gunther nodded, pleased, and without saying a word, he disappeared behind the counter, leaving Kurt to take care of the waiting customers.
Kurt was busy for a very long time after that, since it was peak dinner rush time. He was grateful when it all finally calmed down a bit, and he sneaked into the kitchen to have a glass of water and eat a quick sandwich. He was famished and his feet hurt like hell. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it til the end of his shift. It was bound to be a long, awful night.
As he thought longingly of his bed, the softness of the sheets and the pillows, the weight of the duvet and tried to ignore the heaviness of his own bones, he made his way back out the kitchen, only to realize someone had just taken a seat at one of the tables in his section.
He grabbed a menu from the pile behind the counter before he walked towards the table, reminding himself to plant a smile on his face even though he didn't feel like it.
"Welcome to Spotlight Diner. My name's Kurt and I'll be your..." He stopped in his tracks when the man sitting at the booth looked up. As soon as his eyes fell on Kurt, his lips parted and his pupils dilated, making Kurt stutter for a moment. "Uhm. I'll be your... your chorus boy waiter today."
Kurt lifted a hand and touched his face quickly, making sure there wasn't anything on it. He didn't understand why the man was looking at him like that. He blinked down at him, and wished he could stare at him for a while, though, because he was strikingly handsome. His dark hair was beginning to curl around his face, clearly breaking off from whatever product he had applied to it, just a few grey hairs peeking through at his temples. He had a very expressive face and – there was only one way to describe them – very kissable lips, the kind Kurt wouldn't have minded nibbling on. But it was his eyes that really caught him off guard – they looked so honest and earnest, so kind and bright, and the way they reflected the light made them seem almost golden.
They looked a bit sad, too, but Kurt told himself he was just imagining things. And he shouldn't have been paying this much attention to a customer anyway. He should have been taking his order.
"Here's a menu if you need it," Kurt muttered quietly, placing it on the table in front of the man. "Unless you know what you want?"
The man seemed to come out of some kind of trance. He shook his head a bit before he glanced back up at Kurt, a polite smile on his face that was gone too quickly. "I'd like some coffee for now. Thank you."
"Sure. Coming right up," Kurt said, smiling back, before he turned around and walked away a little quicker than necessary. He hid behind the counter for a moment and used his cellphone to check his face but no, no lettuce between his teeth, no stains on his nose, nothing that could make someone look at him like that.
It was kind of ridiculous, how hard Kurt's heart was beating at the moment. He didn't even understand why.
Blaine's hands were sweating.
He quickly tried to wipe them on his jeans, groaning to himself. He was being a creep. There was no reason to ogle someone the way he had just ogled that poor waiter, who was certainly several years younger than him. It wasn't like Blaine didn't see beautiful people often – in his line of business, he was surrounded by attractive people way too much. Sometimes it was horrible for his own self-esteem.
It was just that Kurt the chorus boy waiter was probably the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his entire life.
Just because there was clearly an age difference, it didn't mean Blaine was blind. He wasn't going to act on it, he wasn't going to say anything. He could just admit to himself when he found a guy attractive and move on.
The boy – don't call him a boy – grabbed a pot of coffee from behind the counter and began to make his way back to Blaine's table. Blaine reached for the menu just to give himself something to do.
Kurt placed a mug on the table and then poured the coffee into it, not saying anything, but Blaine, who was avoiding looking at him at all cost, could feel his eyes shifting to him as he did so, over and over again... until the coffee began to spill out of the mug and across the table top.
"Oh shit," Kurt said at once. "I mean... I'm so sorry!"
The dark liquid made it to the edge of the table and down to Blaine's pants before either of them actually reacted. Blaine immediately reached for some napkins to try to stop the mess.
"I'm so sorry," Kurt said again, frantically. "I didn't mean... I was just... I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," Blaine reassured him at once, as they both grabbed handfuls of napkins to clean the table. "Please, don't worry about it."
"Hummel!" A voice boomed from across the diner, and they both turned to see a very intimidating man standing behind the counter and looking at Kurt with a deep frown. "Get a mop! Clean the mess!"
"On it, Gunther!" Kurt exclaimed, his voice going a little higher. He turned back to Blaine, his stunning blue eyes filled with misery and embarrassment. "I'm sorry, again. I'll be right back."
Blaine continued to wipe the table with napkins to try and help, feeling bad for Kurt. His boss didn't look very easygoing, and he didn't want to get him into even more trouble with him.
But when Kurt finally came back with a mop and a bucket to clean up the mess, Blaine was sitting there with a bunch of wet napkins in his hands, looking a little loss at what to do with them. Kurt must have seen his confusion, because he bit his lower lip, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing, and grabbed them from him.
"Thanks, I'll take it from here," he said kindly, but looking a bit embarrassed. He put the napkins on an empty table that had been vacated recently and still had dirty dishes on it. "Sorry about your pants, though. I'm afraid I can't do anything for you..."
"It's fine," Blaine said again, and now that they were looking at each other again, he wished he had something more interesting to say. He wanted to see what Kurt looked like when he was enthralled by something, when he was absolutely captivated.
"I promise I'm usually not this clumsy," Kurt continued, talking a bit too quickly. "It's just been... a day."
Blaine knew what he meant. He'd had many of those in his life.
"Don't worry about it," Blaine said as lightly as he could when he felt like his heart had beat its way up his throat by now. He needed to calm down. "It was just an accident. And I hope you get to go home soon?"
Kurt shook his head. "My shift just started actually. I'm here all night."
Blaine gave him a sad smile. "Sorry, then. Hopefully it'll fly by?"
Kurt finished mopping the floor and picked up everything as he said: "Fingers crossed."
As he walked away, carrying the mop and the bucket, Blaine watched him. There was an eagerness growing inside of him – he really wanted to talk to Kurt more. He wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know what he was doing in this big, lonely city. He wanted to know what dreams and ambitions kept him up at night. He wanted to know what made him laugh.
It was ridiculous, really. Today had been a strange day. That was why he felt like this. He should probably just drink his coffee and get home already, and forget all of this had even happened.
There was nothing for him here.
But the question really was: was there something for him anywhere?
Kurt cleared up the vacant tables and went behind the counter to restock sugar packets. From where he stood, trying not to yawn too obviously, he had a perfect view of the man at the booth. There was something about him that made him keep looking back...
"Alright, I'm heading out," Gunther said to him and the rest of the night staff.
They all mumbled a quick goodbye, not paying much attention to him. As soon as he was gone, two of the waitresses snuck out the back for a smoke, one headed into the kitchen for a snack, and the other face-planted onto the counter.
The night shift was the worst.
The man was now the only customer left in the diner.
After a moment's hesitation, Kurt grabbed the pot of coffee and headed towards the booth. He paused before the table as the man looked up at him, and his eyes... his eyes were so mesmerizing.
"Can I get you a refill?" Kurt offered, with a smile.
The man nudged the cup towards him a little bit. "That would be great, thanks." He looked around as Kurt poured coffee into it. "Quiet night, huh?"
"Yeah, it'll be crazy again in probably an hour or two. It usually is on Fridays," Kurt said.
"Do you always work this shift?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.
"Not really. Just covering for my roommate. She had a date and I had nothing interesting to do, so..." Kurt shrugged, before he realized that made him sound like the most boring person in all of Manhattan. He cringed a bit. His love life hadn't been much of a priority lately, with everything else he had going on. "Can I get you anything else?"
"Oh, no, thank you. I'm good," the man smiled up at him, and he had such a pretty, kind smile.
Which was probably the reason Kurt said: "Well, my break's coming up. Do you mind if I pour myself a cup of coffee and join you for a bit?"
He wanted to hit himself in the face with the pot of coffee as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
But before he could run away from the diner, change his name and move to a new country out of sheer embarrassment, the man's smile grew wider, warmer, and he extended his hand to Kurt. "Please, join me. My name's Blaine, by the way."
Kurt took his hand, and forced himself to shake it only for the appropriate amount of time, because as soon as they touched each other, he had the crazy, sudden desire not to let go.
With a quick smile, he headed back to the counter to grab a mug for himself.
Right now, the night shift didn't suck as much as it usually did.
Can't wait to hear what you think of it!
There will be a chapter every Saturday.
Thank you for reading!
L.-
