Blaine forces all his frustration and anger out through his fist, all the way from his toes, up his lightly bent knee, through his swaying hip, brewing through his torso, exploding in his shoulder, and firing off with his fist when it hits the boxing bag.
Just as forcefully as he hit the bag, he exhales, almost bending in two as he sways tiredly away from the still swinging bag. He had thought this would help him shake it off, but he's still disappointed he didn't get the part. In hindsight he knows he could have chosen a more suitable song for his audition, but he thought he had convinced them with playing the saxophone. Something he'd stressed to learn just for that. Such a waste of time…
He gulps down the rest of the water in his bottle, and retreats to shower. There's a new audition in two weeks he should prepare for. There's always a new audition, somewhere. Some day he has to get the part, right? Or is he just wasting his time?
Sulking in his bitterness, he fights off the boxing gloves and doesn't pay enough attention to where he's walking, and he almost crashes right into someone. Someone standing turned away from Blaine, half dressed and seemingly busy stretching his arms. He stops in time, though, but spills water down his sweat-soaked sleeveless shirt. On any other day Blaine would definitely first and foremost have noticed the well-sculpted butt in those painted-on jeans, or maybe the strong back with the perfect skin and broad shoulders. But what catches his attention is a tattoo on the man's back, across his ribs on the left side. It's the journey, not the destination is written incurly handwriting.
Somehow, Blaine takes it to heart. He's been so focused on his goals and dreams, being ambitious and driven, but forgetting to enjoy life as he gets there. He's beginning to look like his father, even if that's the only thing they have in common. And Blaine does not want to become someone who lets success be all and everything, be it as an actor or as a businessman like his father.
"Thank you!" Blaine grins sincerely at the back. God, when did he last take the time to smile to a cute boy and say something nice? He's been so singlemindledly determined that he's lost touch with friends, Cooper, and what should be a potential dating life in New York, at least compared to Westerville.
"I beg your pardon?" the body asks warily, and turns slowly towards Blaine. And goodness sweetness what a lovely front it is on that body.
"Your tattoo?" Blaine explains. "It made me think. About my journey. I needed it. So thank you."
"Okay?" the hot body drawls with one eyebrow raised in fair judgment. "I guess that's one of the better reactions I've gotten because of it."
"What's the worst?" Blaine asks curiously, giddily, because he may have had an epiphany, and he just wants to carpe the heck out of the diem, including talking with this half-naked and oh so handsome boy with a meaningful tattoo on his back.
"Santana said… No, you know what, I can't tell you that, it's too embarrassing to tell a stranger," he rolls his eyes and huffs through a smile. He then grabs a shirt he starts buttoning and covering up all that skin. That's okay, he still has captivation and expressive eyes and at least four different smiles Blaine wants to stay busy with for the next minutes, at least.
"Is it too embarrassing to tell your dad?" Blaine asks to keep the conversation alive, all thoughts about a hot shower and immediate preparations for whatever audition is up next, forgotten.
The young man freezes in the middle of pushing a button through the hole, and clears his voice awkwardly.
"From a spiritual point of view I guess he already knows what Santana said, even if I haven't told him that," he says softly, and blinks repeatedly with glassy eyes.
Shit, Blaine really stepped in it, didn't he?
"Do you drink coffee?" he blurts out, because everything gets better with coffee, right? "Let me buy you coffee?" he continues before the other man can reply.
"I don't need your pity," the other replies hesitantly, and continues to get dressed.
"It's not pity. You improved my crappy day just by taking your clothes off, the least I can do is buy you coffee," Blaine rambles, and too late he hears the very poorly chosen phrasing. "The tattoo, I mean," he adds awkwardly, trying to save his face. The tattooed boy just stands with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at Blaine. He then out of nowhere snorts loudly.
"You would probably go spectacularly well along with Santana," he chuckles.
"So, is that a yes?" Blaine asks, trying to tame his eagerness.
"I don't accept coffee from strangers," the other deadpans, and Blaine hurries to extend his name and introduce himself. "Kurt Hummel," the other, Kurt, answers.
"There's a café in the lobby here with half-decent coffee," Blaine suggests.
"I know it," Kurt smirks, "I'm a Junior. It's not my first time hitting the gym," he says, and unconsciously shifts in a way that proves to Blaine that oh my God, arms, lovely strong arms. What kind of moron is he, who tries to be suave and worldly in the school gym in front of someone who is just a year from graduation? "It's the first time someone buys me coffee based on a tattoo, though," Kurt smiles, still teasingly, but also more friendly. "I wonder what your reaction had been if you'd seen the other tattoo instead…"
"There's a second tattoo?" Blaine gulps, and he didn't even know he had a thing for tattoos.
"Strictly speaking, you saw my second tattoo. But yes, I have been under the needle twice."
"Maybe one day you'll let me know the story behind them," Blaine says, because Kurt strikes him as the kind of guy who does something for a purpose, and doesn't ink his body just because he saw a pretty drawing, got drunk or lost a bet. Then again, Blaine doesn't know him at all, but he hopes he'll get to change that. A coffee is a good way to start, at least.
And they start with that coffee, which turns into a refill before Kurt has to run for class. But he leaves his number with Blaine, and a new entry in his calendar on his phone to have lunch with Blaine in two days, when none of them had classes at a decent lunch hour. Blaine is already smitten, as is his trademark – he falls quickly, if not often. But when someone catches his attention, they've got it. He is pretty sure he could fall in love with Kurt, and he catches himself daydreaming about being boyfriends, living together, marriage, act on the same stage, maybe a parrot or a cat. But then he smiles at himself, because he is so far ahead of himself he can't even see himself anymore, and that's not what he wants. He is going to enjoy this journey getting to know Kurt, for as long as it lasts, and he's going to stop and smell the flowers in between auditions, exams and performances. Maybe even literally – Kurt strikes him as the kind of guy who'd appreciate flowers. Maybe not in two days, but when Blaine eventually mans up to ask him out on a proper date, he'll bring him flowers.