Warnings: Exhibitionism. And from this chapter onwards, mentions of Kurtbastian (this is where I lose readers who don't like that, isn't it?)


Blaine arrives at the Lima Bean dot on six o'clock knows without a doubt that this conversation is going to be unrelentingly hard (and not in a good, cock hard way). He sees 'highinthemiddle' without having to search him out – he's not easy to miss. He's sat side on to Blaine and he's graceful where he's sat, posture straight and forearms on the table, hands around a cup of coffee but what caught Blaine's eye is his clothes. They're phenomenal. Perfectly shaped to his body, tight black jeans that hug every muscle of thighs and a blue jacket with double black buttons, artfully covered at the neck with a scarf. He looks as good in clothes as out of them, just as confident too, and Blaine barely had time to register the boy's sharp jawline and frankly gorgeous face the other day and he suddenly feels so stupidly small and inferior – to what he doesn't know.

He approaches slowly, hesitates in the middle of the store over whether he should get himself a drink or a snack (he skipped breakfast, he was so nervous) and decides he'll go without because this conversation could be over in five minutes. Or five hours. He's starting look silly stood alone and darting his gaze between the boy and the counter so he starts forward and twists his hands nervously, debates the whole way to the table when it gets too late to turn away. That time is when the boy looks up and spots Blaine hovering a couple of steps away. Blaine avoids his eyes, resists the urge to cross his arms across his chest, no matter how defensive, angry and confused he feels, until the boy says, "Uh, assofander?" and Blaine's never been so embarrassed of that username until now. But he nods and sits down, hugs himself tight, clears his throat and finally meets the boy's gaze and oh god his eyes are so pretty and bright blue. Blaine can see this whole crazy thing going awry so quickly – he's losing concentration already and hates how much his heart is pounding and how much he wants to kiss those pink lips when he really shouldn't.

He's been preparing himself for this meeting all day but he can see everything's going to fail him now. He woke up early to the sound of Cooper snoring obnoxiously loud next door, like he only does when he's got hayfever in the height of summer, and Blaine was also hard for the first time in days. But the moment he'd reached down it had wilted away. He's had complete apathy for anything sexual recently and he's been extra grumpy because getting off is his stress relief in lieu of not having the gym to go to everyday. So when he'd tried to get going, he felt nothing and could only yawn and fear for his impending disaster of an evening. He skipped breakfast and almost lunch, if it wasn't for Cooper shoving a bag of crisps in his face and demanding he eat them because I think you're an idiot, Blaine, but eat something or you'll faint. It was progress that Cooper was talking to him (it had been awkward glances and attempted apologies (on Blaine's side) for a while) and it made Blaine feel a little better, having Cooper back on his side and they'd spent a few hours until five pm talking about what Blaine should and shouldn't say and what was going on in his head. The answer to the latter wasn't easy. Blaine's been a mess (still is, really) and all the time with Cooper, preparing for this conversation in the Lima Bean, seems useless now as he sits across from a beautiful boy that he wants to punch and kiss all at once. He can't remember a single thing Cooper said so everything's all the more terrifying and he still feels faint, no matter how much food Cooper made him eat.

"So, uh, this is awkward."

Blaine blinks, thinks no shit, Sherlock, and almost says it out loud, snapping his mouth shut at the last minute. Instead, he says, "Who are you?" which isn't what he meant to say but what he wanted to say, and apparently he can't keep those two apart right now. This boy just makes him want – in every sense, it seems.

"Oh, I- I'm Kurt." He looks like he wants to reach his hand out for Blaine to shake and Blaine stops him by pointedly crossing his arms and slumping back in his chair. It's childish, Blaine knows, but the boy's (Kurt's) lips press into a thin line and his shoulders sag – somehow, it makes Blaine feel accomplished, like he can make Kurt feel at least a fraction of his hurt and embarrassment. And at least Blaine now has a name to hate, or at least really dislike, now. A name and an unfairly gorgeous face – strong jaw, smooth skin, blue eyes that bore deeper into Blaine than he likes - which is staring at him blankly until Blaine realizes he should probably say his name back.

"Blaine."

The boy (Kurt, Blaine tells himself, though it'll take some getting used to. He's been elusive and nameless for so long) nods and bites his lip, fiddles with the lid of his coffee. Blaine wants to huff in annoyance. He doesn't get why the boy (Kurt, for god sake. You're angry at him, but give him the decency of a name Blaine thinks, in a voice that sounds a lot like Cooper's) looks so put-out because Blaine's the one who feels laughed at and pathetic. Kurt's had the upper hand in all of this, making Blaine want and want then turning out to be a liar. He's had the control and it irks Blaine that he looks so lost.

"I'm sorry, first of all." Kurt's talking to his coffee cup rather than Blaine and Blaine hums, idly tapping his foot against the table leg. The dull sound ticks to the beat of his patience, dwindling by the second. Kurt looks up on one tap and Blaine's foot stills. He's startled by how embarrassed Kurt looks. Blaine thinks he should be embarrassed, at least a little, for being caught out but this looks deeper than that and Blaine darts his eyes around and shifts in his seat when Kurt says, "I'm really sorry."

Blaine's uncomfortable, more than he already was, and he's thrown. He wanted an apology and he's definitely gotten a heartfelt one but something's not right in the way it's come so easily and how sincere Kurt is. Blaine expected him to defend himself, say he's a teenager, let him have his kicks, and it doesn't look like that's going to happen. And Blaine doesn't understand what's going on. "I- thanks?" Blaine says and didn't mean for it to be a question but it comes out as one. "Thank you," he repeats, firmer, loosening his arms and chewing the inside of his cheek.

"It's- I'm sorry," Kurt says again, a stuck record, and okay, Blaine gets it, he's sorry. And Blaine's got to be missing something here because Blaine's been angry, confused and heartbroken and wanted a decent sorry, but not one accompanied by downcast eyes and a furrowed brow. He's not feeling any less pissed off, he just wants in on what's happening along with an explanation of the past couple of months.

"It's okay," Blaine says. It's not really, there's still so much Blaine wants and needs to know, but Kurt looks like he's going to cry or maybe punch something and Blaine loves this coffee shop – he's not up for being thrown out.

Kurt simply laughs, bitter and short, and shakes his head. "No it's not. Everything's fucked." The swearword sounds harsh from the mouth of someone who looks so delicate (though Blaine knows him to be anything but, if he's to believe anything Kurt's said in the past) and Blaine scratches at his jawline, a light stubble against his fingers.

"So, uh-"

"I'm not who you think I am," Kurt says and Blaine knew that already, is well aware of it in fact. "I'm sorry for that and I'm apologizing for… what's happened."

Blaine is so sick of not understanding this, not knowing why the boy he might love isn't actually the boy he thought he was so he sits up, rubs his hands over his face and leans both elbows on the table. "I'm angry, okay? This whole thing wasn't a joke to me and I'm obviously missing something here but you're dancing around it, just saying sorry over and over and all I want is an explanation." He breathes and adds, "And a damn good one," for good measure, raising his eyebrows when Kurt just blinks at him.

"You're really upset, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" Blaine says, throwing his arms up and not even caring that half the shop turns to look at him. He'll scream as loud as he can if it means Kurt will hear him. "You lied to me, made me feel like I had a friend and broke my heart." He grits his jaw and holds back a growl of frustration. His infatuation seems more ridiculous said out loud and to the person it involves.

"Oh Jesus," Kurt sighs, his eyes sliding shut as he dips his head. It's maddeningly unhelpful and as far from the start of an explanation as you can get and Blaine bites down hard, holds in a yell. Then Kurt says, mostly to himself and with a shake of his head, "Idiot," and Blaine can't tell who he's calling it. He can only guess it's not himself because there's a real bite and anger behind the word that Blaine knows can't be (or shouldn't be) directed at him – he's still innocent in all this. Maybe an idiot, yes, for thinking he loved a boy from the internet with so little physical knowledge of him, but Kurt can't be angry at him for that.

"Wha-"

"Can we go somewhere private?" Kurt's eyes are pleading, his grip tight on his coffee cup, and Blaine snaps his mouth shut, frowns and falters.

"I, uh. I guess, yeah."

At Blaine's confused, startled expression, Kurt says, "Maybe not private, but just outside. With less people."

Blaine thinks he should say no. He's already pissed Cooper off by coming here in the first place - a betrayal of Cooper's trust in him because Cooper said no and Blaine ignored – and he can only imagine the lecture he'll get if Cooper discovers (and he will discover, he always does) he went on a walk with Kurt, to somewhere more secluded. It's stranger danger all over again and even if Blaine's legally an adult now, a small part of him worries because he doesn't know Kurt at all. Kurt said so himself: I'm not who you think I am.

He says yes though and curses himself the second he does. Kurt must see him wince or hear his hiss because he gives Blaine a sympathetic eye, like he understands his reluctance. It does nothing to settle Blaine's stomach.

They end up at a park nearby, on a graffiti-d and scratched bench, inches between them that feel like miles. Blaine wishes they were miles, wishes Kurt didn't live in Ohio and hadn't played all these silly games, or at least had played them but from further away, in a place where Blaine would never meet his eye and feel this stupidity. But Blaine learnt a long time ago that wishes aren't worth his time.

"His name," Kurt starts but stops abruptly, huddled in on himself, hands in his lap, thumbs twiddling. He's frowning and he huffs and Blaine sniffs impatiently. "This might all sound… odd, okay, but just… hear me out." Blaine says nothing, only nods once. He can deal with odd, as long as it's an explanation and his insides can stop tearing themselves apart.

"The person you've been talking to is called Sebastian. He's eighteen and he's a jerk."

Well. It isn't how Blaine expected this to start, but since when does anything he expect ever happen anymore? It at least explains why Kurt didn't recognize him at the gym and just a little of Blaine's anger falls away, but a thousand questions burn on his tongue (But it's you in the pictures? Who the hell is Sebastian? How does anyone pretend to be so perfect?) that he bites down because he should listen before he asks. Out of decency the voice of Cooper says in his head.

"The blog's mine, I started it. Before Sebastian got a hold of it, after I stopped using it, it was the same as it was when you found it." Blaine knows what he means – the pictures, the videos, the articulate text posts on the struggles of gay teens – yet Kurt's cheeks are still flushing red, too crimson to just be from the chill breeze. It's not strange to Blaine, the tinge of embarrassment from saying what he does out loud. It's one thing to like the thrill of exhibitionism and another thing to tell everyone you do. When exposed online, it's to people who understand what you like and what you want – in public people can (and will) sneer or laugh.

Kurt continues, "I got busy though, with college applications, extra-curricular's, family…" The sentence trails off but continues in Blaine's head with a seemingly endless list of teenage troubles. They're such small problems compared to what lies ahead and Blaine's struck that this heartbreak and anger he's feeling now is nothing against future plights. This is only a young crush gone wrong, but the tight grit of his jaw and clenched fists are unyielding.

"…so I stopped using it. Sebastian knew about my blog, teased me mercilessly until one day I snapped and broke up with him."

"You were-" Blaine starts, curious and understanding more by the minute, but he's cut off by Kurt going on.

"We were only together for about a month. It wasn't even a good relationship, born from sexual tension. Angry sexual tension." Kurt sighs and picks at his jeans, one leg crossed gracefully over the other, and Blaine watches his hands for no other reason than he doesn't want to look at Kurt's face. "But he knew me well, better than I ever realized, and I guess that in some act of stupid revenge or something… he took over my blog and well. You know the rest."

Blaine does know the rest – the messages, the fantasies, all the pictures they shared – and he can feel some guilt settling in, an apology coming forth because Kurt's done nothing wrong, as it turns out, and Blaine's been an asshole since this conversation started. But one thing doesn't sit right so Blaine says, "But the pictures were you? You're scar on you're back. It's how I knew you in the gym."

Kurt inhales and exhales a deep breath, stares out into the empty park at the swings, unmoving. "I sent them all to him when we were together." He glances at Blaine, a flash of blue eyes to the side. "I'm no different to everything he posted or said to you. I'm an exhibitionist just like you, so he had pictures of me, and videos. He created the perfect imitation of who I am, right down to the way I write."

All Blaine can think is creepy. The whole thing sounds deranged and a little far-fetched, but if Kurt says that who Blaine's been talking to for months is exactly him, but not him, then Blaine knows when he's telling the truth. Even through a computer screen, Blaine could sense a lie, though there weren't many. Except there was, a whole bunch of them, but not lies at all. It's all confusion in Blaine's head, trying to understand that he's been talking to another boy all the time, but a boy who created Kurt in every way – a doppelganger, Blaine supposes.

Blaine says, "So your ex took over your blog, made posts about gay teens, posted pictures of you and messaged me for months pretending to be you?" Kurt nods, looks sheepish, and Blaine thinks he might start apologizing again. He shouldn't though because who the hell can guess someone would do that? And so perfectly too. Blaine can't actually judge that of course. He does know the boy in front of him from the imitation on the internet, but that's just it – it was an imitation. And Kurt can tell Blaine a hundred times that Sebastian got his every quirk and thought correct, but Blaine still feels like he's met someone new today, someone he doesn't know at all.

Blaine wants to know him though, the same way he did all that time ago, after a message in his inbox that made him dizzy. Now he knows the Kurt online wasn't genuine, was pretend in a way, but so true to the real thing, he thinks he fell in love with the idea of Kurt – his beauty, his mind, his everything. So now the true article is in front of him, Blaine wants to learn all over again, rediscover everything he knew (or thought he knew) from the boy himself.

He looks at Kurt who's still gazing out across the park with a small frown, jaw grinding like he's biting his tongue. Blaine wonders if this Kurt and the fake one are actually similar at all – he wants to find out if they are, discover if he can fall in love with the same person twice.

He hopes Kurt will let him try.