A/N : Words in Italic are things from the past.

-XX-

Italy was a beautiful country, Blaine thought. And it was far, far away from his problems, his consequences, and his love. It was what he needed; he resigned by telling himself that every day for the past month. A warm breeze came to sooth Blaine's skin; the temperature of this country was something he really needed to calm himself and tried to relax, because if he had to go and surely spend a good part of the winter somewhere where it's always cold, he didn't think his heart could take anymore of coldness.

Blaine thought about Kurt every day and made a mental list in his head of what he could have done differently; he only came to this one and only conclusion. If he didn't want to prove something to his brothers and didn't have the desire to be like them, then he wouldn't have done the game and use Kurt, therefore, he wouldn't have meant Kurt and wouldn't have fallen in love with him. And he'd still be an ass, partying and looking up on people who didn't deserve his admiration.

But the most important thing was he wouldn't have meant Kurt, therefor, fallen in love with him. Even though his first motivations were completely different and were transformed.

He was now in his villa in Tuscany. The countryside was beautiful and it was everything he remembered when he was running in the fields with a still blurry image of a man chasing after him and laughing as he was pick up and flew like a plane, two strong hands keeping him up in the air by his tiny waist, giggling and a deep and rich laugh echoing through the golden fields as the sun goes down.

The villa was a rich white color that when the piercing sun reflected the house, it could have blinded you. The villa was really big with a splendid garden where Maggie spent two long weeks to occupy herself by taking care of it, planting exotic flowers. The backward had a gigantic pool, but Blaine didn't see the necessity because there was a beautiful lake not too far from there. The outside was beautiful but the interior, was stunning with an architecture very Italian, it was barocco and so very stylish; Kurt would be proud.

Blaine asked his mother if they hired someone to keep the place clean while they were away, but Maggie told him, shyly, that no, she comes here regularly, but it was behind Charles' back. He always wanted to sell the place after Blaine's fifth birthday, but Maggie refused and even though Blaine didn't go here since he was only five, Maggie went there often, even if Charles didn't know it. He knew she wanted to go there once each summer to be away from the press and just be by herself, but he didn't know about the other times of the year.

''Mum, you look weird,'' Blaine said to Maggie one after-noon at the end of September.

''Me?'' she asked, but looked fidgety. She was dressed in a beautiful sunny dress and Blaine noticed that since she left Charles and that the divorce was in procedure, she wore more colors and smiled more often; Blaine liked it and if someone could still be happy, even if it wasn't him, then he could be happy for his mother.

''When you're nervous about something, you put too much makeup,'' Blaine said. She was baking something; Blaine just had a funny image when he looked at his mom moving in the spacious kitchen. She looked like one of those housewives of the 50', all well dressed with a beautiful dress with high heels and makeup and perfect hair, baking in the kitchen. He shook his head and frowned at her. ''I've never seen you bake before,'' and it was true. Even though they had someone to cook and serve them at their house in Florida and everywhere they went around the world, Maggie had made an effort to cook since they arrived here. She refused to hire the help of someone. But the young man never saw her mom baked before.

''Oh, yes. Chocolate cake,'' she said, beaming at him.

''Are we waiting for someone?'' he asked, leaning against the wall. She turned to look at him and bit her upper lip and shrugged, before breaking an egg.

''Maybe,'' she said and signed in frustration when she saw some eggshell fell into the bowl. She tried to get rid of it with her fingers, frowning. ''Actually, yes. Yes, we are waiting for someone,'' she said with an edge to her voice. ''Blaine, honey, can you open up the oven for me, please?'' she asked as she poured the mixing of the bowl into a cake pan. He obeyed and she put the cake into the oven and it looked like it took its toll on her. She put her hands on her waist and signed. ''I…'' she studied her young son and knew that what she was going to do was the best thing to do. It was the thing she was looking to do all her life since she had Blaine; they weren't a day or a second when she saw Blaine's face without thinking about it, about that day. And it was time. ''I think it's time for you to know the truth.''

''What truth?'' he asked, frowning.

''I'll get there,'' Maggie promised, quite breathless, looking at Blaine nervously. Blaine shrugged, presuming his mother will tell him eventually, even though he was curious. ''In the meantime, can you go to the grocery store in town? I need some milk,'' she said. Blaine smiled at her and nodded.

What really surprised him when he first arrived was that a car was in the driveway. It was a beautiful red alpha Romeo that blends perfectly well with the landscape. He decided, as he drove, to go to the nearby small town where they were one church, small cottages and one grocery store; everything was small, there, but the people were always happy to see him and greeted him and his mother with warm smiles. Even some of them recognized him and couldn't stop but cooed at him, saying how much he had grown since the last time they saw him. They recognized him because of him and not because of whom he was as the heir of Charles Anderson and it was refreshing. He didn't really remember his time here as a kid, but only remembered the blurry face of a man and golden fields. He could've gone to Florence, which is only 15 minutes' drive from here, but preferred the quaint little town.

Once he stepped into the store, he went to go grab the milk and looked in the aisles if he could find something that his mother would want for dinner. As he reached for the cheese, three male voices echoed through the store.

''Ok, boys. We need some bread,'' the first voice said.

''Dad, I don't know why you do all this. You're working in a freaking kitchen; just invite them to the restaurant. No need to fucking plan a feast for like fifty people,'' another voice grumbled.

''Julian! Language,'' his now presumably father, said. ''Now boys, help me here. I'm nervous as it is, I count on you two to behave,'' he said sternly, but was on the other side of the aisle so Blaine couldn't see their faces, but could hear another voice, more calm, saying: ''Don't worry, dad. It's important to us, too. Everything is going to be alright.'' Sensing he was eavesdropping on a personal conversation, he made his way to leave the cheese and milk section.

He was at the end of the aisle and was about to turn the corner when he bumped into something solid and his items went flying everywhere. He swore under his breath, but the other person swore loudly. ''Shit!'' the other person said. Blaine stood up and took his things off the floor. He looked at the person, a boy, really, still on the floor.

''Watch where you're going!'' he said. Blaine arched an eyebrow and couldn't believe this kid; he couldn't be more then seventeen tops. He recognized his voice; it was the one who keep arguing with his father. He looked familiar, though, but with a mouth like that, he should be careful.

''You're the one who looked behind your shoulder as you ran in front of me,'' Blaine said. The teenager, Julian, now had a proper look on Blaine as he stood up quickly.

''No fucking shit,'' he said, gaping at Blaine. The curly-haired man frowned at him, but couldn't help but looked amused by his habit of swearing; he reminded him of himself as he was a teenager.

''Does your parents know you swear like a sailor?'' Julian looked him up and down, a look of defiance and Blaine could almost see joy and relief into his dark eyes as he replied.

''Well, you see, my…''

''Julian!'' a voice interrupted him from afar. He looked to his left and saw a tall and broad man, waving at him and looking annoyed. Julian looked at Blaine once again.

''I gotta go, Blaine. I'll see you later!'' and he left.

''Wait, how do you know my…'' but he was already gone and from the little store, he could hear an engine of a car. He shrugged and went to the cashier. He might've seen his face on a magazine, he mused. What a turbulent kid, he thought.

-X-

''I'm Blaine, by the way,''

''I'm Kurt.''

''A beautiful name for a beautiful person,''

''I'm sorry, when I'm nervous, I tend to ramble,''

''You're adorable, Kurt.''

''I love you, you know that, right?''

''I love you too, Blaine,''

''I can't by a present to the boy I love?''

''It's not how much you pay a present that makes it valuable, it's the love you put into it,''

''So, you are a strawberries lover, hein? (…) Blackberries are better.''

Blaine's laugh echoed through the forest.

Blaine woke up and realized that his cheeks were damped. He quickly wiped his tears away, Kurt's face still vivid in his head, in his dreams. It wasn't the first time he dreamt about the other boy, but it never was so real, like he really was with him. He almost could feel his warmth, his touch…

Blaine was disoriented but was now fully awake, trying to sound and act nonchalant, and not heartbroken. He got up from the couch in the spacious living room where he didn't know why, but had a nap and went to the kitchen.

''I'm going out for a… ride,'' he said. He needed to go out and try to erase the image of Kurt of his head, but he knew it wasn't possible, but he needed to try. Maggie nodded, still working in the kitchen. He still didn't know why she did all this and even tried to help, until Maggie told him to leave the kitchen.

''Okay. But be here for 7.'' Blaine left the villa, keys in hands. It was the middle of the afternoon and it was still hot. He wondered, as he got into the car, how it was in New York. He supposed that by the end of September, it should be quite chilly, with some warm days. He wondered if Kurt took care of himself, if he was alright.

He sped up on the long highway. He knew what he wanted to do for the rest of the day. Florence wasn't so far from the villa. It was a beautiful Italian city and he already went there several times during the month, alone, or with his mother. It kept him sane in the most difficult days, keeping him away from the loneliness he could find in the villa.

Florence was rich by its architecture, its churches with splendid details and its history. It has beautiful restaurants and Blaine, having not eaten since breakfast, decided to stop at a small café. As he walked through the little streets between the houses, he ended up on one of the most touristic street; fancy restaurants were lining up and the smell of food were mixing together and his stomach grumbled. He stepped into a restaurant he hadn't noticed yet and the atmosphere immediately comforted him; he felt like he went there before. There was a bar at the far side of the restaurant, the walls were just bricks, and it was surely the bricks from the old building that they just changed to do a restaurant with it. The furniture was a dark brown that went well with the rich red color of the tablecloths and the paintings. The patrons talked in Italian, miming with their hands when they felt like it.

He sat at a table in a corner, waiting to get served. He was deep in thought, until he heard a deep male voice. He lifted his head and his breath stuttered. That man, who looked down at him with warm eyes and a gentle smile, looked very familiar. ''Sorry, what?'' Blaine asked as he didn't catch what the man said. He feared that the man was speaking to him in Italian, but no, it was in English, even though he had a slight Italian accent.

''What's troubling you, my son?'' he gently asked and the way he said it, the way his eyes lighten up, felt like Blaine could trust him with anything.

''I…'' he hesitated. ''I can't tell you, you're a stranger,'' he finally said, because really, telling this man all his troubles just seemed obnoxious.

''I'll tell you what,'' the man said kindly. ''I'd give you one of those chocolate piece of cake. It's on the house,'' he exclaimed. He left quickly and returned as quickly with a big piece of cake with a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top.

''Wow, daddy! Look! All of this whipped cream, all for me?'' a small boy said as he ate the chocolate cake, his small legs swinging under his chair.

''Sure it is! Hey, now. You'll be a good boy and wait here for me, okay? I gotta go to the kitchens, but don't leave the restaurant, okay? And don't talk to…''

''Don't talk to strangers, I know,''

He remembered something from his childhood; it was like a vague memory of some sort and as he looked around himself, the man still watching him intently, the restaurant didn't seem so foreign to him anymore. He shrugged and turned his attention to the dessert.

''Just boys problems,'' he never was shy about talking about boys; his history of partying and fucking men made it pretty clear to anyone, so if this man was against it, then he could leave. But he stayed. ''I did a mistake, I regret it. Now, this boy won't forget me and I can't blame him for that. I blame myself,'' he shrugged.

''And this boy of yours, I presume you love him and he loves you,'' the man said as he sat down next to Blaine. The 22 years boy nodded slowly.

''Then it's all going to work out. I'm sure you just need to give yourselves some time apart before reconnecting again, but stronger.'' He patted his shoulder like a father would do to his son. ''Humans do mistakes, it's the way that we want to make amends that makes us great men.'' Blaine looked at the man curiously, but nodded.

''Thank you, Mr…?''

''My name doesn't matter, kid.'' He said kindly. Blaine didn't say anything else and just watched the man leaves him and let him finish his cake but lost in thoughts, he didn't notice the man watching him, with a soft, almost sad and longing expression before going back to the kitchen.

-X-

Blaine dragged his feet to the house when it was almost seven. He wondered if his mother could let him go to his room for the rest of the evening, too tired to socialize with her supposedly guests. But he knew it wasn't an option.

He heard voices in the living room and knew that the guests had already arrived. He signed then tried to smile his best, using his charm at its best. But, when he arrived in the room, his smiled disappeared and he gaped; his mother seemed nervous as she looked at him, and the other three people looked at him warily.

''Blaine, here you are,'' Maggie said as she stood up to meet him. Blaine ignored her or her attempts to introduce him to the rest of the guests.

''Well, shit, we see each other again!'' a young teenager said from the couch, smirking. Maggie frowned.

''You know each other?'' she asked, surprised and the teenager, Julian, nodded his curly head eagerly.

''We met this morning at the store.''

''And-and I know you, too,'' Blaine said as he pointed at the oldest man in the room. The man nodded, almost shyly and looked at Blaine with a hopeful expression. Blaine looked at his mother.

''At a restaurant, in Florence, a few hours ago'' he said to fill her in.

''And I still didn't meet you,'' the third man said who looked to be in his late twenty. He stood up and Blaine could see his muscles stretching beneath his tight black V-neck. Well, if sleeping with strangers were still his thing today, he'd defiantly be his type. ''My name's Cooper,'' he said.

''Nice to meet you…?'' he said, taking Cooper's hand but it sounded more like a question. Who were those people?

''Blaine, honey,'' Maggie said gently. ''I think it'll be best if you sit down,'' He did what he was told and looked at all those faces. Julian's smirk had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable frown, the man – still don't know his name- had a curious light in his hazel eyes and Cooper looked anxious, looking at him from his blue eyes. ''Blaine, I'd like you to… to meet your father, Giorgio.''

Blaine stared at this man, the man he had spoken to a few hours ago and now, he was in his living room, claiming he was his flesh and blood?

''I… I… wh-what?'' he stuttered.

''And, mm…'' Cooper coughed. ''We are your brothers,''

''How… how is it possible?'' Blaine finally said after a short pause in which they all looked quite anxious.

''If you wonder why you don't know about us, well I can tell you I know about you since I was born and dad didn't shut up about you,'' Julian said and Giorgio –now was his name- glared at his youngest son.

''Blaine,'' Giorgio said his name so softly that he had a hard time to hear it. He looked utterly apologetic and suddenly, everything made sense. The rich laughter echoing in the fields as he was lifted up from the ground, the restaurant… he went there countless of times, he was sure of it.

And now, it hits him when he looked at his father. He looked just like him, with the same curly black hair, the same tan of his skin and the same warm hazel eyes. His jaw, his posture, even the shape of his nose… it was like looking in a mirror, except that Giorgio was older and some grey hair was there, but other than that, he looked strong, confident and he was as handsome as the first day Maggie looked at him.

Cooper looked more like Maggie, with his skin being paler and his eyes clearer. He was broad and tall and masculinity radiated from his every pore, but unlike his other brothers, he seemed amicable with his kind eyes and his charming smile. Then, he thought about his comment earlier, and he felt embarrassed. At his side, there was the youngest, Julian. He looked like him, but his feathers appeared to be younger and he had playfulness to him that only teenagers would have. He had the same curly hair, but his were wild and went in every direction. He already was taller than him and skinnier, just like boys his age would be. He may only live of cheeseburgers like any other teenagers would. His eyes were darker, but he inherited Maggie's pale skin. But… something didn't add up. It was obvious they were related by their resemblances, but he was younger, so it was impossible he was Maggie's, too. A step-brother, perhaps.

''Let us tell you the story,'' Giorgio said in his accent. ''I promise, it's not as bad as it seems. After that, you can-you can decide not to talk to us anymore, but you need to know the truth.''

''You know,'' Blaine began calmly. ''I already know that Charles isn't my father and since then, I only wished to discover the truth and thought I'd have to find you by myself years later, so I'm glad it's today, rather than later,'' he shrugged with a soft, but nervous smile. Yes, it was a surprise, but he wasn't about to get angry. He wanted to know his other half, and now, he was standing in front of him. It'll be stupid to turn him down. Giorgio nodded determinedly.

-X-

On the exact same day that Blaine would discover the real secrets of his origins, Santana Lopez found something that will definitely changed Kurt's life and hers too, for good.

She was walking on the streets and breathed the fresh (okay, not so fresh) polluted air of New York, but she felt good, she felt at home. The truth was, yes, Kurt was a motive for her to come and live in New York, but she always wanted to come here. This city had an important Latin community, so she felt comfortable and away from Beatrice's racism and hateful comments. It just felt good to belong.

She found herself in Soho and as she was going to get into one of those beautiful art galleries to buy some trendy or artistically edgy portraits to go with her new loft, she was in front of a building. She took off her glasses, and looked at an announce on the big wooden door.

''Place for sell. Please, contact John Kafka 737-674-0085''

She smiled brightly.