I Know Him: Klaine One Shots

The bench

Basically something I got inspired to do and then started feeling less and less inspired. But basically Kurt and Blaine haven't met yet. Kurt's 24 and has been living in New York, developed a clothing line with Vogue.Com, also sits at the same bench everyday. Well, one day a man sits next to him. Curious, this man asks a lot of questions. Kurt gives some advise, and nothing else is said.

The sun is beginning to set, and the birds are chirping their lallubies. I don't know what I would do if such beauty never existed. It's like God himself made this setting just for me alone. Rachel reminds me everyday that I've been admiring too long, says I would have more time to go out if I didn't spend most of my time here. She's not wrong, but she's also not right.

I've sat on this bench everyday since I moved to New York. I didn't start sketching the scenery until just last year where I thought I could incorporate some of the natural beauty into my clothing line. Obviously, I haven't done that yet, but I will say that my sketches are becoming more detailed with each day I sit here (Probably more than 350 at this moment).

No one has ever sat with me though. I like to believe that the civilians of New York City don't have time to sit down anymore, but it's also because everyone is afraid of me. What can I say? I run one of the biggest Fashion companies in America, no one wants to be critiqued by me. Some people have even gone as far as running away when I walk the streets, covering their faces. I don't know if they're serious most times.

Other than a few friends from high school, I lead a pretty lonely life. I haven't dated since. . . Ever, actually. I did speed date for a while until I got sick of that. Than Rachel and Tina tried to hook me up with one of their clients. Let's just say that was a buzkill. I don't know - maybe I'm supposed to be alone? And that's why I've been called to this bench everday? Just to be alone? If you ask me, it doesn't make since at all.

I take out my Sketch Book, flip through numerous filled pages until I find a blank one. I examine the surrounding area. Than, I start making marks on my paper with a mechanical pencil. I look back and forth between the paper and what I'm trying to create in random increments. I don't realize when someone sits next to me, or when he sets his bag right next to mine.

When I'm almost done, a voice shakes me out of my trance.

"That's very pretty."

With reluctance, I look away from my Sketch Book. To my surprise, my eyes land on a gentleman, who has decided to join me on the bench. He points to my drawing to elucidate further.

"The drawing, it's - uuuh - very beautiful, How did you learn to draw like that?"

I smile at him, setting my pencil down, "Thank you, and to answer your question, I design for a living, so sketching and drawing are like second nature to me."

He nods in understanding and reaches his hand out for me to shake, "Blaine Anderson."

I take his offered hand, "Kurt Hummel."

He raises a bushy eyebrow, "The Kurt Hummel?" He asks. Well, what do I have to lose? I nod.

"Ooh, Celebrity?" He jokes.

I chuckle, amazed by this man's impeccable since of humor, or was it something else?

"Not quite, but I am known."

He scoffs, "Yeah, "known" ok. . ."

As quickly as he stole my breath, Blaine changes the subject.

"Sooooo, you come here often?"

"Very often. More like everyday."

Both triangular eyebrows raise up this time. He sits up straighter, smiles. "Everyday? Since how long?"

"Since I moved here, approximately six years ago."

He seems genuinely interested and surprised, "I just moved here, any pointers, Since you've been here way, way, way longer than I have?"

I turn towards him more, just to get a better view, "I haven't gotten around that much, but I can proudly say that you should try the cronuts. They are delicious."

He taps my shoulder lightly, "Noted." He says. He moves his bag so that he can scoot closer. I don't touch my bag, or my sketchbook, which has been sitting on my lap, an unfinished masterpiece awaiting it's last few pencil strokes. Blaine stares at me with this interesting look. I'm pretty sure his eyes have pierced through my soul by now and they're searching for something new to captivate.

He smiles an unnecessary adorable smile, "How old are you? - If you don't mind me asking."

"I'm twenty four. It seems like a young age to have your own joint clothing line, but I guess I make it work. How old are you? - If you don't mind me asking, of course."

Blaine laughs, looks away, "twenty three. I actually just graduated from Ohio State a few months back."

"Congratulations, not everyone can make it that far."

He shrugs, "I had the chance to go to school here right off the bat, but I was too afraid to actually apply to any. I guess Ohio got the best of me. You know I've been so reluctant to come here, and now that I'm actually here, I know why. It's scary here."

I hesitate before saying anything, "Blaine, everyone's afraid at some point." I blurt. "When I moved to New York, I was terrified. There was so much to explore. To do. This is the city of dreams, right?

Blaine nods, "Right."

"Exactly. Being scared, Blaine, it's not bad. It's absolutely vital for an up-and-coming..." I trail off. He gives me a sly smile.

"Broadway Star?" He adds. I nod.

". . . Broadway Star. Fear is keeping you back, Blaine, don't let it. Now that you're here, doing the thing you love, in the city that you dreamed about when you were little, you'll slowly start to understand how much it really takes to follow your dreams. All it takes is just the amount you need to accomplish anything, Blaine."

Blaine clears his throat and looks me in the eye, "What am I supposed to do?" He asks. Cracks infest his vocal chords.

"You said you were afraid. You still are, aren't you?" I ask him.

Blaine scoffs. He gestures around the dim lit park, "Of course I am, Kurt. Look how big this park is! What happens when I walk out of here? Will I get lost? Will I not be what I want to be? There's too much uncertainty." He crosses his arms over his chest.

I take in a slow breath, "I'm only going to say this once, Blaine." He looks at me, tilts his head, "You cannot let fear take over your life. Don't second guess yourself and never stop believing, it's the only way to survive in this city, Blaine."

I take his hand in mine. He flinches. I know it's weird to hold a random man's hand in central park at half past eight o' clock on a Saturday night, but I'm trying here. I gaze into his hazel eyes. Wet and bloodshot. You would think he's high. Blaine gulps.

"Thank you," He whispers, his eyes dipping down to look at his hand in mine.

"Wow." He says

"Wow?" I question.

"I- I needed to hear that."

"So did I."

"Uuh," he awkwardly takes his hand away from mine, grabbing his bag off the side of the bench. My eyes follow him as he stands up. He turns to me, "I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt."

I raise an eyebrow, "How do you know that?" I ask.

He smirks, "The bench. I'll meet you at the bench, Silly."

"Aah, the bench?"

"The bench."

As he walks away from me, I watch his steps. He was frantic to go, not frantic to leave though. He kicks rocks and stays on the path. When he's finally gone, the park has officially gone dark. Soon, I'm shoving my sketchbook into my bag and leaving.