VI

~ The Salvatore Spectacle ~

No taxi tonight. No tube, no public transport, no nothing. Kurt had dismissed them all in favor of walking to his first runway show and it most likely wasn't one of his wisest of choices, considering the amount of walking and dancing he would be doing in shoes several sizes too small. His growing attachment to the New York evening air was probably clouding his judgment, the smell of rich oxygen at this hour mixed in with city life aiding his poor choices but he didn't mind. He was new here. Exceptions could be made.

Alongside the risk of being mugged in a deserted street, Kurt had wanted to invite his friends from The Monarch Theater, Carlson, Carmen and Lola to come attend his catwalk debut. It was the least he could do after all they had done for him. Without their help he'd no doubt be at home right now recovering from all the insult thrown at him by none other than Gordon, the putrid theater director. Plus, he knew what giant suckers all three of them were for famous events, celebrity sightings and raging hot models, even if bumping into models themselves wasn't hard to do in New York. They roamed free as if they were in some kind of catwalk safari, with their beautiful figures and faces no longer confined to the billboards in Time Square.

Kurt knew Carlson would attempt to deny his secret love of the celebrity culture and way of life with a swift 'pfft, yeah right' but he wouldn't call him on it. The way he over-excitedly replied to Kurt's mass invitation to come with Carmen and Lola to see him perform was all the brunet needed to know and as he giggled to himself, he couldn't help but share their hype, even if it was in text form.

He'd informed them all to meet him at the backdoor of the arena where everyone working for and included in the show had been instructed to enter, but this was the problem. He didn't know how it all worked. Was he meant to have obtained for his friends backstage passes like they did at music concerts? Were there even any backstage passes? Or had he unknowingly set them all up for an evening of standing outside in the freezing cold?

Similarly to inviting his friends to join the festivities, Kurt had wanted Burt to attend. Nothing was more important than family and sharing such a night with his father would have been perfect, but asking him to fly all the way over just for an hour-long event did seem a bit much. He most likely had his hands full at the garage with the first thing he would do once returning home would be to collapse on his couch and fall asleep to re-runs of 'Deadliest Catch'. It sounded about right. In any case, the spectacle was scheduled to be filmed and broadcast on CBS so all was not lost. Though Kurt just wished he could see the smile on Burt's face. How he would hug him, congratulate him and announce how proud he and his mother were of him. Just that thought was enough to bring another cheerful bounce to Kurt's already excited steps.

Looking up at the night sky, which considering was the sky hovering over the most populous city in the country, Kurt admired the multiple tinges of rose quartz grey and thistle purple bedecking its beauty. It was glorious and although it was a wonderful sight to behold, it only seemed to act as a starter for the night's magnificence. The city was lively as ever with a maze of illumination in the form of headlights flashing by on the roads, glittering multi-colored bulbs adorned the Broadway signs in Times Square and finally the arena, Madison Square Garden, the circular modern building that now resembled some kind of space ship set to take off at any minute. No wonder falling in love with this city is so easy, thought Kurt as he stood before its splendor. I don't think I'll ever leave.

"Kurt! Hey, Kurt, over here!" Kurt's head whipped around to see Carlson on the opposite sidewalk, Carmen and Lola right next to him, both of them joining in with the man's emphatic waving. I knew they couldn't resist, thought Kurt as with perfect judgment and a swift crossing, he arrived on the other side. No one could.

About to greet them all, their wide smiles inviting him closer, Kurt was pulled right into an engulfing group hug of asphyxiating proportions, both his rosy cheeks now finding themselves caught in-between Carlson's stubble and Lola's over-lip glossed mouth. Ideal. "Whoa, guys stop. We're squishing him. Back up, back up."

"You made it, I'm so glad you're all here," Kurt exclaimed as his friends eventfully set him free from their comforting yet overly tight hug to smile back at him. They all looked so happy, so joyous to be here that he couldn't have felt more grateful for their support. Now however, with the Garden right behind them, Kurt's eyes couldn't help but stray. Looking up at the massive building, he now took in with greater detail the large tinted windows, suspended banners with 'The Salvatore Spectacle' written in eye-catching Trojan Pro red letters, adorned finally with the American flag flapping above the main entrance, waving in the wind as Kurt looked up to see all fifty stars shining down at him. "I apologize if you already had plans for tonight. I don't mean to-"

"What are you talking about, Doll Face? We wouldn't have missed this for the world," Carlson smirked, winking cheekily at him as Carmen rolled her eyes, Lola bursting into a bout of giggles.

Shortly after receiving his modelling contract, Carlson had begun referring to him as 'Doll Face', a nickname that had soon latched on to him by everyone who knew him. 'Candy Kurt', 'Baby Boy Romper' and 'Good mornin' good lookin'' were all pet names he didn't mind at all; in fact, they were rather cute and fitting for him, mostly because they were sweetly sugared compliments that he was still very much getting used to.

Blushing, Kurt averted his eyes from Carlson's suggestive brows to Lola, who in that moment, looked as if she could barely contain her gleeful laughter. "What? It's true! I'd do it for anyone of you guys," Carlson continued.

"Shit! Kurt you've got to get in, you're five minutes late already! Go!" Carmen's eyes were bulging after a peak at her watch and grabbing hold of Kurt's arm, the red-headed girl directed him briskly towards the arena stage door, Carlson and Lola hot on their heels.

It was not a good feeling, being manhandled, Kurt could attest to years of it, but now that his best interests were at heart, he did as he was told and got moving. "I am not going to stand by and let you miss your own first freaking show, Hummel," Carmen yelled. "You're modeling on that runway before the night is over and that's the end of it!"

However, as all three of them neared the back door, Kurt once again caught sight of the arena's grand entrance where a long red carpet, grander than the one at the film premiere had been rolled out. A large crowd of paparazzi was snapping their cameras like maniacs on either side of the scarlet pathway while celebrities, representing all areas of the entertainment industry and the fashion world, were making their way inside, their designer outfits sparkling like impressive giant sequins as they disappeared within.

Craning his neck to catch a glimpse of a certain Puckerman amongst the glitterati, Kurt attempted to raise himself on tiptoes before a final wrench brought him back down to earth, blurring his focus and pushing him right before his entrance.

"There you are! Don't worry, we've found him! Hummel has arrived, he is here!

An assistant wearing a full black ensemble with the Salvatore Spectacle's logo printed on her tee shirt was yelling into a headset while she gestured with a clipboard that looked like some sort of weapon as she ran to him, brandishing the board before his taken aback face.

Removing Carmen's tight grip from his arm, Kurt rounded the steaming assistant but beckoned his unsure looking friends to follow. "No, I'm sorry Mr. Hummel, I cannot permit them to enter. You need to get yourself to the hair and makeup department now and get ready! The show starts in fifteen minutes! Move!"

"No, they're with me, they're... they're backstage camera crew assistants for CBS. They got lost trying to find their way in," Kurt explained rapidly as he forced his brain to conjure up a decent enough lie. It was somewhat believable. Lola didn't look like she knew squat about television production but seeing as they were all actors, it didn't take long for their skills in improvisation to whisk them past the surprised looking assistant. Piece of cake, Kurt thought triumphantly as he shared a secret smile with them all, Lola's triumphant giggles muffled by Carmen's hand. "Okay, guys, from now on you're going to have to pretend to be crew members or something, but friendly crew members. Not the grumpy ones."

"Believe us, Kurt, we're too high on life to be grumpy. Now, where are we... um... I think it's this way..." muttered Carmen as she pulled her hand away from Lola's smiling mouth to direct them all in the right direction.

That was the great thing about this Carmen. The girl could lead you of out of an expansive Tudor maze in less than a few minutes. Whether that was due to her vigorous Girl Scouts childhood or the various outdoor holidays in Canadian forests and Swiss mountains, Kurt didn't know, but whichever one it was, it had led them right into the center dressing room. "People, Kurt has to put his face on so we've got to stay out of the way! Come on!"

Pulling Carlson and Lola along with her to the back of the room, all three of them flashed him an encouraging smile before disappearing into the swarms of models, makeup artists, wardrobe assistants and directors, everyone flitting around like bees in their hive's throne room. The smell in the air was sickly sweet, a combination of overly expensive perfume and powder but as Kurt was suddenly directed to sit in front of a Hollywood-style vanity, its sides surrounded by flattering white bulbs that sizzled like beacons, he forgot all about it. He forgot everything as his face was transformed into that of a marble pixie, his body stripped to near nakedness and clothed with sex. Everything was forgotten for this night.

.

Glee

.

The spectacle was in full swing by the time Inna was belting out her song, 'Un Momento', the singer dressed in a maroon summer suit, gold-framed knee-high boots, a Chanel diamond choker and her hair whipped up in a French-style bouffant. She held the microphone close to her mouth and made sure each spectacularly dressed model could easily be 'awwwed' at by every spectator and flashing camera, their figures dancing in the lights. Everything was going well. No one had taken an eye out with their four-inch heels, no light had fallen from its rigging and killed someone and no male audience member had jumped onto the stage to kidnap one of the female models. However, as the Romanian singer enthusiastically filled the arena with her bass thumping beats, a couple of meters away beyond the wave of an American flag and the wink of a smoky eye, panic was in the air.

Everyone backstage was desperately attempting to calm and smooth things over, with directors trying to get each model out of their previous outfit and into their next one in time, securing accessories to avoid loose bits falling off and all the while trying to prevent themselves from spontaneously combusting. Yes, everyone was acting as if the shit had hit the fan, yet Kurt seemed to have been the only one with as much docility as a lamb. He'd had his hair and makeup done to exquisite results, with his skin and hair never before looking so lusciously delectable, been squeezed into quite a comfy little number and had joined his little entourage at the back of the room, waiting patiently yet anxiously for his first appearance.

Not too long before an actual CBS interviewer had approached him to ask him a few questions regarding his 'newcomer' status in one of the hottest shows of the year, his skincare regimen and what he did to keep in shape. At first, Kurt had been caught off guard. He'd never been interviewed like this in his life, not with a huge-ass camera and fluffy microphone mere inches away from his face, and neither had anyone ever inquired into what he ate to stay slim, let alone what he used on his face. However in the end, refusing to imitate a gaping goldfish gasping for air, he'd smiled charmingly back and answered honestly, charismatically and ended the three-minute talk with a cheeky wink and a flirtatious blow of a kiss. He'd felt ridiculous doing it but he had the pout. He could pull it off.

Now, thirty minutes into the show, Kurt was fully immersed in a game of Mario Kart on Lola's candy pink Nintendo 3DS which she had kindly lent him. He would have thought there would be issues with sharing the console, since nothing interesting was happening but, contrary to his beliefs, both Carmen and Lola were having the time of their lives.

The two girls had taken advantage of this opportunity to find out what makeup products the professionals recommended and what little tricks they used to make their clients look that much better, the 'power of illusion' they liked to call it, a term which had prompted Kurt to roll his eyes. Carlson, by the looks of it, was also having a good time, a good time of helping a female model into a set of bejeweled underwear.

That's our Carlson, Kurt thought as he cheered happily, his character, Toad, having done well on the 150cc race by coming in an impressive third. Carlson might have had the moves with the ladies, but he had the moves with Princess Peach's virtual attendant.

Closing the 3DS with a quick snap, Kurt lifted his eyes and observed his surroundings. Nothing had changed. Everyone still looked as if they were on unhealthy amounts of steroids, what with their veins ready to pop at any minute, but as he was about to restart another race, he overheard the two 'Chatterbox Chicks' he'd had the misfortune of being near earlier that afternoon, talking to each other like there really was no tomorrow.

"I'm telling you, Noah Puckerman winked at me!"

"He did not!"

"He did. My God, I forgot how hot he is in real life!"

"How can you forget? Didn't you see the photos he posed for in for Teen Vogue's July issue?"

"Oh, the one where he was sitting on that motorbike wearing only leather? Yeah, I saw them. I remember drooling and then drooling some more. In fact, the only words that I ever said were, 'have mercy! Mercy, mercy, mercy!'"

"It's weird though. I read the interview and he said that he wouldn't be getting married for a while. Yet, a month later, he's engaged to that Fabray girl. I don't get it. I don't know what she did but she is one lucky bitch."

"Maybe she hypnotized him, or put Novocaine in her lipstick. I wouldn't say that anything screams foul play, but it is suspicious... Anyway, have you seen Puck's new buzz cut? It looks amazing! I'm telling you when you get a look, you're going to plotz!"

"I will, as soon as you calm down before you catapult yourself straight into his britches first. His fiancée is sitting right next to him and remember, we're the ones who are meant to be lusted after, not them."

That's true, Kurt thought as he tapped the 3DS absentmindedly against his chin. We're the ones who are meant to be lusted after, not them. With a smile as wide as a coat-hanger, Kurt found himself standing before his friends, all of them gazing back at him with nothing short of great anticipation. His scheduled appearance on the runway was nearing and as he was enveloped in yet another bone-crushing hug, his ears welcoming a thundering wave of 'good lucks' and 'you're going to kill it out there', this time he didn't pull back. However, with a sudden thought of his made-up appearance coming to mind, he froze.

"Guys, you're crumpling my outfit!" He pulled himself away from his friends before looking down at his clothes, the freshly laundered and steamed materials hinting at just a minimal set of creases here and there.

Strangely enough, during the hug, he had felt as though every single part of his body was being touched, as if he'd been thoroughly inspected for everything he had. It was weird and it was sweet of his friends to double check his body wasn't falling to pieces, but he didn't want any of them to get chucked out for manhandling one of the models. He was just going to have to avoid any member of the costume surveillance team for the time being, a task harder than one believed. "I can't afford wrinkles in my debut."

"Doll Face, there's not that much outfit to crumple," chuckled Carlson, Kurt blushing as looked down at his outfit once again. It was true. Apart from wearing pink and black Hi-Top trainers, which he hadn't been too sure about at first, he was wearing a Crayola-red off-the-shoulder chiffon tee shirt that had been cropped right above his belly button, a diamond-studded cross necklace that had been set aside from the Chanel vaults just for him, a richly ornamented baby crown that nestled comfortably amongst his cocoa curls and finally two large silk American flags tied to his denim hot-pants that flowed behind him as if they were made of air. "I mean, there's not that much hanging from your body. It's pretty limited, but don't worry, there's enough to leave some things to the imagination."

"Is it me, or will this man flirt with just about anything that moves," Kurt asked, ignoring Carlson's wandering eyes as he sped over to a wall-length mirror that had been propped up against a chair. He primped futilely, examining the flimsy yet damn expensive material hanging admittedly in all the right places before sighing in defeat. "Fine, I admit these stylists know what they're doing when it comes to flattering the human body, but it's all a bit much for me. I never dress like this. Not even when I'm by myself. It's like people here are purposefully trying to help rid me of feelings of embarrassment, self-consciousness or dignity so that when it comes to slapping on skimpy outfits, you won't put up much of a fight. For goodness sake, my dad's going to watch this when it airs! What is he going to say?"

"Kurt, calm down. You needn't feel ashamed of showing skin. You've got a great body, model-like in every way. You just need to let go of your inhibitions and learn that you're worth looking at," Carmen assured him as she appeared right behind him, both of them now staring at each other through the glass.

Rolling his eyes light-heartedly, Kurt giggled as both Carlson and Lola checked him out, nodding approvingly as they winked at his reflection.

"Just bring the attitude you had in those music videos of yours," Carmen added. "Channel that same energy, have fun and you'll have nothing to worry about. Alright, so most of the models here are more experienced than you. Fine, but you can do what they can do, only better. Go for it, Kurt."

"Hummel, get your ass down here now!"

The order came from near the catwalk entrance and as Kurt parted from his friends with a nervous smile, weaving his way to his position, he kept Carmen's last supportive words close to heart.

From his new vantage point by the catwalk, Kurt was now able to catch a proper look at the indescribable stage. Following the theme of vintage Americana and Hollywood, the long strip that ended with a large revolving circular platform had been decorated with mascot-sized American cultural icons dotted everywhere including a catcher's mitt, apple pie, the Statue of Liberty, Uncle Sam, an Eagle, Coca-Cola, All-Star Converse, a winged Chevrolet, with the glitter encrusted floor of the stage painted with the American flag. "You're on Hummel. Go!"

As I'm going, going down I have dreamed a better place.
As the world turns round and round sun is always in my face
Sometimes you go away a million miles away
Sometimes you don't know where, don't worry I'll be there...

The lights went out and music commenced. Kurt walked briskly onto the stage, the back light acting as the sole illumination in the vast hall, resulting in only his silhouette being visible. Positioning himself between the two white Georgian columns that represented those of the White House, his pale hands shook.

Holy mother of God, Kurt's mind gibbered as he now realized how huge the arena really was. It was insane. He'd never performed to a crowd this large before and to think that critics and celebrities were amongst them was just too overwhelming.

Taking a deep breath to calm his frazzled nerves, Kurt launched himself into the choreography, performing a short ballet-inspired dance, his mind losing itself in the music as his conscience lost all awareness of the humongous crowd watching his mysterious silhouette.

Can you bring me sunrise, can you bring me the sunrise?
Can you bring the sun in my life?
Can you bring me sunrise, can you bring me the sunrise?
Can you bring the sun in my life?

The spotlights came on as the curious audience finally saw the next model: an entrancingly cherubic boy. He was gliding his way effortlessly down the runway, the silk American flags floating behind him with such ease that anyone could mistake the charming creature for an angel. However, for Kurt, all focus was on maintaining grace, keeping his chin high and neck elongated as he joined Inna on the large circular platform.

Kurt flashed the cameras a million-dollar smile and glanced around the arena, his eyes flirting with every onlooker's they met. Despite looking as if he could see them, he couldn't. He couldn't make out anyone's face but he didn't need confirmation to know that he'd captured everyone's attention, and although the feeling rendered him extremely self-conscious, he ignored it in favor of putting on a show worthy of his talents.

Now I close my eyes again and I'm thinking to myself,
Will I ever love again? Hope you'll be a better man
Sometimes you go away a million miles away
Sometimes you don't know where don't worry I'll be there...

As soon as the bass kicked in, Kurt broke into dance. His silk flags swished around his long legs effortlessly while his diamond necklace swayed from side to side like a pendulum on his chest. His moves were quick and precise, moving stylishly to the beat, executed with a childlike innocence that morphed into a seductive panther, arousing, ever so arousing.

The fact that he'd danced to this very song in his bedroom back in Lima was a bonus and, as a result, it gave him courage to improvise, to add his own subtle twists with shoulder rolls here and hip twists there. It would have been wise to stick to the choreography the director had envisioned, it would have been professional, but he couldn't resist. When it came to dancing, the ultimate language of the body, there was no refusing whatever path the music led you on.

Can you bring me sunrise, can you bring me the sunrise?
Can you bring the sun in my life?
Can you bring me sunrise, can you bring me the sunrise?
Can you bring the sun in my life?

Swiveling hot on his heels as he started making his way back down the runway, Kurt waved at the still entranced audience. The whole thing wasn't that bad. In fact, it was easy when one got over the crippling fear, and as Sigrid Agren entered the runway, the blonde beauty flashing him a wink as they passed one another, he did what Carmen had said to do, he let go of his inhibitions.

Looking back to the audience, the brunet smiled gleefully. His nerves were waning, his body was pulsating with electricity and his eyes were more alive than ever as he took in the flattering lights, the strums of the guitar in the music and the riveting atmosphere that all came together to drown him in a sea of adrenaline. His first walk down the catwalk was over. The exit was the final destination but as Kurt made to leave, he felt those hazel eyes on him, looking his way. Him...

Sometimes you go away a million miles away
Sometimes you don't know where, don't worry I'll be there...

Noah Puckerman was staring right at him. New York's wealthiest and handsomest flirt was eyeing him heavily with a glint of something Kurt couldn't pinpoint. He wasn't smiling, smirking or anything; he wasn't even paying Sigrid any attention as she strutted by or Inna for that matter, as she cooed into her microphone.

The man's eyes were solely on him and it was amazing. Kurt could even see his face through all the commotion but there he was, illuminated amongst the suited men and their women. Now Kurt could understand why the girls backstage had nearly fainted in adoration at the sight of Puckerman. His looks were certainly 'hot' and 'amazing' but why he was looking at him he didn't know. He wasn't by far the most striking of models in the show, was he? So why were Puckerman's eyes scanning him like... like...

Can you bring me sunrise, can you bring me the sunrise?
Can you bring the sun in my life?
Can you bring me sunrise, can you bring me the sunrise?
Can you bring the sun in my life?

Snapping himself out of his trance, Kurt blew a farewell kiss out into the arena before exiting the stage. He had to escape the uncomfortable feeling that Puckerman had injected him with and not only that, but he was sure he'd looked out of place just oddly standing there fidgeting under a certain man's gaze. His exit had been effectively ruined.

Damn, he thought as he was shoved aside to give space for Sigrid's return. I think I took away too many of my inhibitions. Though, when he thought about it, none of it really mattered. His mind and soul were still pumped after his first strut and as he made his way over to his desk, he was just about to take a sip of his Evian when he was immediately bombarded by his trio of friends. They ran straight into him, almost taking out some of the vanity bulbs behind him with such enthusiasm it should have been illegal.

"Kurt, well done, you were amazing!" Lola brought the boy in for a deeper hug, crumpling his outfit to near disfigurement while all the while enforcing all the power in her little arms to crush him with surprising strength. It's not that Kurt didn't appreciate the exaggerated sentiment he was being showered with, but due to his committee of hyperactive friends, he was starting to garner looks. As if he hadn't been in the spotlight enough. "Couldn't have done it better myself!"

"She's right, Kurt," Carlson agreed as he retracted his arms and beamed at him, taking pity on the slightly nauseous look Kurt was now sporting. The healthy peach-toned color that seemed to radiate off Kurt's skin like good health in physical form now seemed to have disappeared, replaced with a sickly green color. However, Kurt's pallid appearance didn't take away any of his appeal, or judging by Lola and Carmen's faces, his desirability. "You were all kinds of sexy."

"Did you see their faces, though? Did you see them," gushed Carmen in barely concealed disbelief as she directed Kurt to the back of the room, weaving them through interviewers, boom mics and makeup artists as they traveled.

However, that didn't stop a number of friendlier models including the kooky British beauty Cara Delevingne, from stopping him to congratulate him on an 'awesome' debut, followed by a funny-faced Instagram picture that got shock-waves of laughter from both young models. "You must have seen it, Kurt. It was like you cast a spell over them or something."

"And did you see Puckerman? How he stared you down," whispered Lola excitedly as she sat beside Kurt, squishing him in between Carmen and herself. Due to the lack of space, the model's shoulders were forced forwards, hunching his back and caving his stomach. It did not look comfortable at all and as he politely signaled both of them to move before he developed a serious case of rickets, they obliged, giggling a set of apologies as he sighed in relief. "You should have seen how bewitched he was, Kurt. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Seriously it was like his pupils were glued to your every move."

"Well, duh!" exclaimed Kurt, rolling his eyes as he attempted to arrogantly deflect his real thoughts from his friends in fear that they might actually catch on. They weren't stupid. They could smell out a hidden secret from miles away and considering his face had always acted as an over expressive barometer to his emotions, he was even juicier prey. However in the end, it was all petty. There wasn't much interest but whatever was simmering inside Kurt, it didn't seem to be dying any time soon. "I'm a model, guys. If people's eyes weren't on me then something's gone wrong. In fact they're not meant to be looking us but the actual clothes on our backs. It's a fashion show, remember?"

"Kurt, you don't understand. We're not talking about the clothes here, we're talking about you," argued Carmen, the boy's regal attitude drooping as it became clear that she was determined to pursue this conversation. Persistence and the third degree in general was any hider's greatest enemy. It made or broke anyone when enforced on any given pressure but Kurt seemed determined to not to fall victim. Juicy gossip was like plant food to women and he was not going to find himself caught in a Venus fly trap. "He only had eyes for you out there. Screw Inna and the other models. They're all generic looking and-"

"Why are we focusing on Puckerman? Seriously, what is it about that man that fascinates people," Kurt complained as his expression soured into one of agitation, a forced huff of breath soon following as Carmen paused mid-speech.

This wasn't the first time Kurt had expressed disgust with Puckerman, and she didn't think it would be the last, considering the way they were going. All she could do now was close her chatting mouth in favor of thinking something more important: the true reason behind Doll Face's dislike of Puckerman.

"Carmen, there are hundreds more celebrities with eyes out there, you know," Kurt continued. "Puckerman was no different. Plus, I probably had them all staring with my chav like footwear and 'blinging' jewelery. God, I look like whored up pimp."

"Who cares about that? It's not like they're made by Nike or some high street brand," countered Carlson as Kurt looked up at the sudden rhetorical question. He hadn't known the man was there considering he'd been caught in between long hair, candy scented perfume and breasts ever since Kurt had walked off the catwalk but now that he knew, he silently cursed him for not seeing Carlson earlier. "Those trainers aren't 'chavy', they're street, and the diamonds, well, I'm no expert about stones but when it comes to Chanel, you can't go wrong... I guess. I don't know. Aren't you the one who told me fashion has no gender?"

"It's a fine line," replied Kurt, sighing heavily as he tiredly wiped off invisible dust from his attire. Checking the time on Carmen's watch, Kurt determined that he was to change soon. His next appearance was in ten minutes and although the baby crown he was wearing was very beautiful, the weight of its gems was starting to take their toll. No doubt he'd have to re-volumise his hair, undergo spray can after spray can of hair mist to bring buoyancy back into his curls but anything would do as a means of escape from the topic of conversation he loathed so much. "I better change into my next outfit if I don't want to be shouted at again."

"Take your time! We'll be here talking about you and your future husband!" joked Lola, her high voice hitting Kurt's ears like an amused siren. It was so easy for the girl to know that he was dodging her chosen topic as well as them, but she couldn't help her fun from fading away. Kurt had captured Noah Puckerman's attention just like many a model had done in the past but the twist that seemed to surge like an undercurrent before all their eyes was that their very own doll was a boy.

Quinn Fabray may have snagged herself a handsome fiancé in the space of a few weeks, but Kurt had unknowingly snagged the very same man in the space of three minutes. Now that spoke volumes...

~ PLEASE REVIEW ~

(But if you wish to criticize, may it be constructive. I'm not going to learn from my mistakes and improve if you vent.)

Author's Note: For all you dance fanatics out there I suggest checking out Inna. She's a successful Romanian artist who's released three albums and you can find on iTunes and Amazon. I drew inspiration from the Victoria Fashion shows when writing the Salvatore Spectacle in terms of mise-en-scène and fashion.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters from Glee since I don't own the show. I'm not earning money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I mean only to please whoever stumbles upon my Love Story.

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