Chapter Six

Literally Falling

It wasn't until Kurt got home that he took a good look at the photo. Poor planning on Kurt's part, but he was in such a daze that he didn't think about it for a while. His heart was still pounding against his rib cage.

He'd hugged Blaine Anderson. He'd taken multiple photos with him. He'd flirted with him. Well, quasi-flirted.

In the safety of his bedroom, Kurt spread out all of his merchandise over his silver bedspread. Blaine Anderson smiled at him from the covers of his CDs, the shirt he'd donned, the four posters, the square buttons, the glow-in-the-dark wristbands, and the photo he had gotten with him. Then he reluctantly added his photo with Sebastian Smythe.

That's when he saw it.

The photo that he had taken with Sebastian Smythe. Kurt was smiling somewhat forcibly at the camera, while Sebastian was smiling at him.

Kurt glanced down at his watch. The watch that Sebastian had noticed right after the photo. He usually wasn't so amused by his watch, but he was doing anything he could to distract himself from the fact that his heart was palpitating.

Then his gaze settled on his picture with Blaine, and his irregular heart beat quickened.

The writing on his photo could not be mistake, even by Kurt during his state of mind. In black Sharpie, Blaine had written the following:

You really make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream.

It's nice to meet you, Kurt. I'd like to see you again.

Love, Blaine Anderson

Kurt re-read the message three times. His mind was swimming with questions and thoughts. One thought that struck him many times was that Blaine had signed it with "love". He hadn't done the same as Sebastian, who had simply written his name. He had added "love".

Despite Kurt's immense dislike of Katy Perry, he found that Blaine quoting "Teenage Dream" was incredibly sweet. For a second, he wondered if that was Blaine's intention, to make his message seem so flirty.

And "I'd like to see you again"? Kurt would absolutely die if they met again. He had barely survived their first meeting. He had pulled over during his drive home because he was hyperventilating.

Kurt was certain that he was falling in love with a man that he barely knew.

Kurt walked up to his corkboard and found two clear thumbtacks. After attaching the photo he'd taken with Blaine on the corkboard, he hesitantly added his and Sebastian's picture.

The old saying states that a picture's worth a thousand words. But to Kurt, the stories that accompanied those pictures were much longer than that.

Blaine was hesitant to be in his childhood home. He'd lived in the two-story Victorian style abode for a majority of his life, but he felt like an estranged foreigner of the house as he walked across the foyer to meet his mother.

"Blaine." His mother held out her arms to give him a big hug. "It's been so long."

"It has," Blaine agreed, patting his mother's back. He pulled away to scan her aging face. There were more wrinkles around her eyes and on her forehead than when he'd last seen her. She was also considerably shorter than him now than he remembered.

"Sorry we couldn't go to your show," his mother said softly. "We were awfully tired."

Blaine bit back a bitter laugh. Being "awfully tired" was one of his parents' many excuses for not attending anything that revolved around Blaine or Cooper. But it wasn't really his mother's fault for not attending. It was more of his father's fault.

Speak of the Devil, and the Devil doth appear. In his usual suit and tie, of course.

"Blaine," his father greeted him from the doorway, "it's been nine months."

"I'm aware of that." Blaine sighed. "It's . . . nice to see you, Dad."

His father shrugged. "Amaryllis, we're going to be late for brunch with the Avilas." He looked straight at Blaine for one second before glancing away. "You are welcome to attend if you wish."

"That's all right," Blaine replied, trying to keep his tone light. "I'm just going to go shopping. Going on tour just made me realize how bereft my wardrobe is of shirts."

His father didn't respond. His mother gave him another hug before ushering him out so that she could get ready for the brunch.

Blaine walked dejectedly to the rental car he'd parked at the curb. As he drove to the Lima Galleria, where he'd attained most of his clothes in the past, he thought, So much for family.

When he arrived at the mall, he quickly pulled on a few accessories to disguise himself. Hopefully a grey beanie, yellow sunglasses, and stubble will mask him from the few fans he had here.

His mind wandered to the boy he'd met last night. What was it about him that appealed to Blaine so much?

He struggled to remember the boy's name. Chris? Bert?

Blaine shook his head. Right. Kurt. As soon as he got the first name right, his surname seemed to flow along with it.

Kurt Hummel. What was so damn entrancing about Kurt Hummel that made him partially memorable to Blaine? Sadly, Blaine usually forgets the names of the people he'd met the day after the performance. There are far too many people and too little time to spend with them.

Kurt was absolutely amazing at the meet and greet. The hug they shared was electrifying. Not to mention the boy's sharp wit and, Blaine had to note, looks. Kurt had perfectly styled brown hair, a clear complexion, a trim body, and the most interestingly colored eyes he'd ever seen.

Even his name was beautiful. Kurt Hummel. It flowed off of Blaine's tongue during his drive to the mall.

"Kurt Hummel," he said softly, admiring the sound of it. "Kurt Hummel."

He wanted to see him again, but how?

"He's been sighted! He's been sighted!" Mercedes crowed from the tiny speaker on Kurt's iPhone.

Kurt paused in his scrolling and sighed. "Who?"

"Sebastian Smythe," giggled Mercedes. "Santana saw him. Apparently he's at the Lima Freeze. We have to go!"

"Calm down," Kurt stated slowly. "Santana's probably just seeing things after being on a Smythe high. Remember when his CD came out? She claimed that she saw a llama in a track suit on her way to school for, like, three days."

Kurt was scrolling through his photo album on Facebook. Chandler and the other eight people had added him, and they were posting their pictures. For a moment, Kurt wondered if he should share his.

"No, Kurt," Mercedes insisted, "this time it's different. There's actual pictures of him. I can send you one."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I have enough photos of him for a lifetime, Mercedes."

It was a blatant lie, of course. He only had the one. But that one photo seemed to mean more than a hundred smirking Smythes that he could rip from tween magazines.

Even Santana had the shirtless poster of him from J-14. It seemed like every girl at McKinley who was straight and a fan of him had that poster. It's like they all texted around to make sure that they all grabbed a copy. The freshman girl whose locker was situated next to Kurt's always flashed him a bit of Sebastian's stomach whenever he had the misfortune of being at his locker at the same time as her.

Kurt wanted to scan his photo with Blaine, but decided against it. He felt as though he should keep what it looked like a secret, just for a little while longer. Maybe he could Photoshop the Ensnared logo out of the picture so it would look more personal. The possibilities on Photoshop were endless.

"Let's go meerkat hunting," Mercedes teased. "I'm taking a picture with him this time."

Dejectedly, Kurt responded, "All right. But I'll need to go to the mall afterwards. Retail therapy always revives me from a hunt."

Mercedes didn't catch his sarcasm.

Sebastian was in the middle of a growing crowd. He had just been craving cake batter ice cream, and since they were going to be in Ohio for a week, he thought he'd stop by one of his old favorites for ice cream. He thought he was being sneaky enough until he saw a camera flash in his direction.

From that moment on, it was chaos. A disorganized melee of teenagers kept screaming his name and asking him for autographs and pictures. Usually he would take it all in stride, but this crowd was uncontrollable. The girls in red-and-white cheerleading uniforms were revealing themselves to him, asking him to sign their breasts. Jocks were loudly planning on selling autographs on eBay to buy new video game systems.

Sebastian hadn't even finished his ice cream. Somewhere in the Lima Freeze, his impeccable scoop of cake batter ice cream had fallen onto the floor.

Sebastian felt as though his brain was about to implode from all of the shouting. He just wanted to get back onto the tour bus and watch a movie. How did his life get to be so crazy?

As the yelling grew louder still, he wondered why he even wanted this life of crazed fans and fame. Sometimes he wished that he was still making covers on YouTube that only got a hundred views on a good day.

"Sebastian!" a cheerleader yelled. "Please sign my boob!"

"Brittany," another cheerleader scolded. "Put your top back on."

"Mercedes, it's really loud-"

"Smythe! Hey! Would you sign my hat? I need a new controller for my PS3!"

Then a loud thud and a gasp effectively silenced the crowd. Sebastian was stunned by how quickly they were silenced, but his thoughts turned to how they were. Shortly after the thought crossed his mind did he hear the chatter. Somebody had apparently fallen, and they fell hard.

The large group parted so that Sebastian could get a good look at who had fallen.

The boy he'd met at the meet and greet the night before was lying on the ground, his eyes closed. A slippery scoop of cake batter ice cream, the culprit, slowly melted at his feet.