#ididntgetin

Kurt huffs and makes to continue on his way up the stairs quickly. He reaches the roof just as Blaine continues to chase after him, once again pleading his case for the importance of love. “But I will be one day! One day soon, I think.” The writer insists, now standing on the last step, just below Kurt on the landing. “Have... have you? Ever been in love, I mean.”

Kurt looks down at the penniless writer. Blaine is gazing up at him through impossibly long eyelashes, hazel eyes that sparkle with more hope than Kurt has seen around this place in years. Kurt wants to write it off as naive youth, but the expression on Blaine’s face is so much more. Everything that Blaine has been telling Kurt about love; the splendor, the elation, the way it fills you up so that love is all you’ll ever need... it’s all right there on Blaine’s face, clear as the diamonds that dangle from Kurt’s ears and sparkle from his headpiece. The passion radiates off of this boy in waves.

“I thought I was, once.” Kurt finally concedes, looking down and away from Blaine.

Even though Kurt is no longer looking, he can still feel that Blaine’s eyes are on him, waiting for him to continue.  “...And?” Blaine prompts, when the silence after Kurt’s words seems to have gone on too long.

The courtesan seems to steel himself, squaring his shoulders and lifting his eyes to Blaine’s face, though the now stony diamond-blues don’t quite meet Blaine’s swirls of warm hazel.

Blaine didn't seem to have a cell phone, and anyone who tried to call his apartment for an interview was immediately redirected to Kurt's personal publicist, who promptly told whatever reporter had rang to bugger off. Whenever Blaine wasn't with Kurt, he seemed to disappear. There were no candid photos of him roaming LA with friends or going to his classes at UCLA. So until Kurt allowed him to go into an interview, or some photographer managed to hunt him down and snap a picture of him doing something worth while, Blaine was virtually invisible.

Of course everywhere Kurt went he got questions about the boy. Asking if they were dating, how they knew one another, if Kurt thought it was pushing the limit to be spending so much time with someone ten years his junior. 

That was, of course, the main story that the tabloids were going with. "KURT HUMMEL'S BARELY-LEGAL TWINK?" had been a headline on Perez for almost a week. What with how in love Blaine obviously was, and how secretive Kurt was being, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. One of the presses favorite pictures of Blaine was one from a party that Kurt had taken him to about a month after Blaine had surfaced. They were exiting a night club together, heading for a dark, luxury car with tinted windows. Kurt's jacket had been slung over Blaine's shoulders, which made Blaine look even smaller, and the alcohol in Blaine's system made his signature heart eyes (directed at Kurt, always at Kurt) even brighter. The combination of everything in the photo-- the jacket, the city lights on Blaine's features, and Blaine's bright eyes-- only served to make Blaine look even younger than he already was. 

"He looks so innocent." some people would say when reading the articles, "Hard to imagine how he got roped into this crazy, night-crawler lifestyle." 

others disagreed, "He's probably a lot smarter than they're giving him credit for. My guess is that he's after Hummel's money." 

So as it was, the public was rather divided over who Blaine Anderson really was. 

Kurt would argue that he was the only one who knew the answer to that question. After all, he was the only one who would ever get to see Blaine like this; Naked and peaceful against white silk sheets, his body fully exposed but too worn out and too relaxed to care, one arm resting behind his head, the other resting on his own hairless chest. His muscular legs were spread wide, soft cock resting between them and so gorgeous to Kurt. The white bed sheet covered only his feet, where it lay tangled and crumpled from their earlier activities. 

The younger boy had finally drifted off to sleep. They'd been laying in bed cuddling after long hours slow, sweet sex. Blaine had been hovering between reality and dreams for a long time before finally giving in and closing his eyes for good. Kurt hadn't minded. He liked to just hold Blaine like this, to just observe. 

Kurt memorized the way Blaine's tan, bare chest would rise and fall with his breath. The way he would turn his nose into Kurt's neck and nuzzle the skin there, seeming so much more child-like in his sleep.

Kurt had worried, at the beginning, about Blaine being too young for him. But despite the boy's age and his obvious innocence, he was mature for his age. He had the capacity to feel things that so many boys his age would not encounter for years, and he had a sharp mind that reached past face-value to see things how others never would. Those things showed through in Blaine's paintings, and in the way he spoke to Kurt. The way he looked at him, and loved him. The way he made love to him. 

Blaine may be young, and unknown, and virtually invisible to the outside world.