I'm really sorry for the delay, but we had some problems with finding a new beta. But this problem was solved, we can go on.
Our beta in this chapter was exiamcland-189. Thank you so much, for your time. :)
But now, let's go back to the story.

Kurt was kissing the man's neck when, for the first time he looked at his face. He wanted to laugh. He could easily call him a boy. It wasn't that he looked young, exactly - quite the opposite, really. However, Kurt hardly ever saw someone with so much innocence and teenage dreams their eyes. If he were honest with himself, he'd have recognized that look from a few years ago in his own eyes when he was looking in the mirror.

Kurt rarely looked his clients in the eyes. When he did that, he felt as if, they stopped being anonymous and they started being real, with their own history, problems, dreams. He couldn't have that, as long as he cared about keeping his mental health.

The boy was perfect. Kurt couldn't describe him any other way. He wondered why someone so beautiful would need a prostitute. His big, green eyes were darkened from the lust, and in them Kurt saw many things. He saw how he was losing himself in pleasure, leaving that innocence behind. He felt the boy's nails digging into his back and he knew, that in few minutes it would be over. Kurt tried to be gentle - he could see that desperate need for love in boy's eyes. That didn't happen very often with his clients; they usually looked for something different, and were often satisfied just when Kurt was spreading his legs, letting them take control. Most of Kurt's customers were old, married men, who most likely told themselves that sleeping with a boy still gives them place in the elite, 'heterosexual club'. Kurt repeatedly answered the phone for them, calling himself their assistant and calming the wives when the men had problems with their excuses. One of the reasons why businessmen chose the cheap agency where Kurt worked was anonymity. It was harder for that to be the case with the more expensive agencies.

When everything was over, Kurt hoped that the boy would fall asleep and he'd be able to sneak out, but it turned out that he was out of luck. The sun begun to rise and neither of them were sleeping. When the first rays of sunlight reached the room, Kurt heard boy gasp. His eyes were gazing in horror upon the scars that were covering most of Kurt's body. Gently, he touched one of them.

"Is this because of your job?" he asked quietly, as if he were scared that speaking any louder could hurt Kurt even more.

Kurt tangled his fingers into boy's hair and kissed him softly. "Not everyone is like you," he replied.

There was silence. The boy still looked at him with his eyes wide from fear and disbelief. "Why would anyone hurt you?" he asked after a moment.

Kurt stifled a laugh. He wasn't mistaken, when he first judged this client – he was just a beautiful, naive boy. "What's your name? I don't think you told me."


Kurt smiled to himself. He was breaking his own rules now, but he really didn't care. Gently, he caressed Josh's skin, slightly below his shoulder blade. Josh looked at him with interested eyes, his red lips parted slightly.

"Because, Josh, I don't mean anything. I don't mean more than this room, for which you paid, not more than a new pair of shoes, or a coffee you may buy every morning. People have right to do what they want with the things they pay for."

"You're not a thing, Roxanne. You don't believe this yourself, though, do you?"

Kurt didn't answer. Josh nestled into him, lightly kissing one of the particularly ugly looking scars.

"I'm sorry that I asked. You probably don't like it."

Kurt shook his head.

"It's okay. I think that it's quite... adorable that you care. My customers usually don't think twice about things like that. You're the first one, actually."

The boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You know, you should be called Satine, not Roxanne," he said after a while.

Kurt smiled. Well, well. Not only pretty, but also acquainted. "Do you like musicals?" he asked.

Josh nodded.

"I study acting," he said with a shy smile. "First year."

"I know."

The boy crinkled his eyebrows. Kurt laughed. "Let's call it an experience/" He cupped his cheek in his hand. "I'll recognize that first year look anywhere."

Josh bit his lip. "You think I'm naive, don't you?"

Kurt thought about this for a minute. "No," he decided. "I think you're brave."

The boy looked at him, confused.

"Can I ask you something?" Kurt changed the topic. Josh simply nodded. "Why are you asking me all of this? Why do you care?"

There was a long pause. After awhile, Kurt heard a minute, his usual-unusual customer spoke.

"It's just... Looking at you stirs up a lot of different feelings in me. I see so much beauty that it's breathtaking. Then, I see the scars. It's as if I'm looking at a child with a gun, or an angel stained with blood. It's heartbreaking."

Kurt looked at him, his eyes serious. "Also heartbreaking can be image of the young, pretty boy, who wastes his time with a hooker," he said slowly.

Josh blushed madly, looking younger than ever. "I'm not that young."

Kurt laughed quietly. "I wasn't talking about your age."

Josh kissed him softly. It was one of the sweetest kisses Kurt has ever got.

"Me neither," he said when they broke apart.

He rested his head on Kurt's chest, and after a while Kurt thought the Josh had finally fallen asleep. But then he heard his voice singing a well-known melody.

"You don't have to sell your body to the night…"

Instead of leaving like he usually did with his other clients, Kurt stayed with Josh until he woke up. Kurt didn't sleep well at all, although time passed much quicker than he thought it would.

When Josh gave him his number in case Kurt would like to meet him in a different sort of circumstance, Kurt smiled a little and tucked a little piece of paper in his pocket. He kissed boy's cheek and then left the hotel, never looking back. When he passed the corner, he took the piece of paper out and ripped it apart without reading the numbers scrawled on its surface. Josh deserved someone better than Kurt. He couldn't destroy another person's life.

"Not your type?" a voice asked behind him.

Kurt spun around quickly. He could recognize that voice anywhere. "Blaine?"

Blaine smiled. "Hi."

This smile, this voice, this face - so much, and so little had changed since the last time they'd met. Kurt didn't want to run into Blaine and say hello, the fact that they hadn't seen each other in years obvious. He wanted it to feel as though it'd only been a day, like Kurt was still Kurt, not Roxanne. He wanted it to be as if they were still together. He wanted so much.

Kurt couldn't move. He looked at Blaine, hoping that maybe, just maybe he'd make the first step. Maybe Kurt wouldn't even have to speak again. He knew he should say something, but he felt as if something was blocking his tongue, and as if his arms and legs were tied with long, silk scarves.

Blaine looked at him, pain evident in his eyes. He stayed silent, but Kurt felt his apologies coming off of him in waves, floating in the air like dust on a sunny day.

Kurt woke up sweaty. For a while he didn't quite know where he was, and why he was there. After a while the realization hit him. Josh. The hotel. Right.

He turned his head, but the bed on his left side was empty. Well, not quite. On the pillow lay an envelope with his name written on it. He wondered what was in it because Josh already paid. Impatiently, he ripped open the paper, cutting his middle finger in the process, which he didn't even feel, as he read:

Roxanne, just so you know, I'm pretty good at reading people, too. Let's call it an experience in my job. See you on stage.


Under the note was a telephone number. Just like in his dream, Kurt tore the piece of paper and when he left, he never looked back.

Kurt wasn't quite sure what his name was. He wasn't sure what he was doing or why. He only knew that he felt amazing, too amazing to care about Kurt Hummel, whoever he was.

He liked the first hit the most, when he felt the power running through his veins. Oh, who was he kidding? Kurt loved everything about this.

He heard the familiar melody, which he started humming. When he finally realized, that it was his ringtone, he answered the phone, giggling.


"Kurt? Is that you?"

"Daaaaddy!" he yelled and started laughing. "I missed you!"

On the other side of the line he only heard silence.

"Kurt, are you drunk?" his dad asked after awhile.

Kurt chuckled again.

"Maybe yes, maybe no, you never know. If yes, would you love me less?" he asked, fumbling with the phone in his hand. He tried to make his voice sound more serious, which wasn't his best idea. "You see, dad, I did a lot of bad things. You know? But it doesn't matter! Because you love me! Or maybe... Would you like me to tell you about this?"

Burt sighed, covering his face with his hands, which his son couldn't see. He tried to make his voice sound strong.

"I'll call you tomorrow, when you're sober."

"Dad, dad, I'm an angel!" yelled Kurt. The other line was dead silent. "I can't find my wings, I can't find my wings…"

Kurt wasn't surprised when he saw Rachel. They lived in the same city and his father probably called her yesterday, just to make sure he was okay. He was grateful for that, but he also tried to ignore the guilt that was growing in his chest.

The whole three of them, he, Rachel and Mercedes decided to study in one city. They were surprisingly coherent - New York, the city of dreams. They were such naive kids.

Rachel knew exactly what Kurt was doing for living. He confessed this to her during one evening, when the meeting with a client got out of control and he almost landed in the hospital. Mercedes knew, too. However, unlike Rachel, she couldn't accept this. At the beginning she was dealing just fine. But after a few months the contact disappeared, and they both seemed relieved that the situation turned out that way. Kurt couldn't look at the pain in her eyes every time she looked at him, and she... She couldn't deal with anything. Rachel also lost a contact with her, but they didn't talk about this. One day, however, she brought some happy news, a little announcement about engagement in one of magazines. Mercedes Jones and Anthony Rice. Who would have thought?

Rachel only partly followed her dreams. Yes, she had a job on the Broadway. She was a make-up artist and an agent of one Broadway actor. She still hoped that one day someone would see her talent and she'd shine like the one of the stars that were her idol in high school. In the free time Rachel worked as a singing teacher. She was a terrible mentor - poor children couldn't have a few minutes off with her. But still, she knew what she was doing.

When Kurt woke up again, Rachel was lying on the bed next to him, going through some magazine. Never breaking the eye contact with the article, which she was reading, she yelled.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Her voice ran through Kurt's skull, making him feel dull, pulsating pain. He moaned, his hands flying to clutch his head.

"You deserved it" Rachel murmured without mercy in her voice. She looked on the mess in his apartment. "Do you wanna talk about this?"

Kurt rubbed his face and started staring up at the ceiling. "Not really."

"That's a shame, because I do," she snarled. "What the hell was that supposed to mean? You don't remember the last time, you idiot? If I hadn't found you, you'd be dead!"

Kurt didn't answer. He stared, unmoved into the wall. Rachel meanwhile calmed down a little.

"Look, maybe you don't care about yourself, but think about your dad. He just got back from the hospital, remember? I know it's hard for you to deal with that, but there's nothing much keeping him alive. Your death could start another one."

Kurt exceptionally didn't find her drama funny. He collapsed into the mattress and forced his face into the pillow.

"Why are you here?"

"Because we're friends," she replied mechanically. They were going through this too many times.

He turned to look at her.


"I have a weakness for messed up people."

Kurt didn't laugh.

"You're wasting your time."

"You're right, my time. And I intend to waste it when I want to and how I want to."

For a while, neither of them spoke. Kurt was listening to the silent blowing of the wind, which was making him tired. He closed his eyes. "You'll run away, sooner or later," he said, with his voice slurred. His words were a little bit distorted because of the pillow, but he didn't have the strength to care.

He heard Rachel's quiet sigh.

"Kurt, I know what are you afraid of. So let me say it one more time - I wouldn't leave you. I'm not Mercedes. I'm not Blaine. And... You can tell yourself that all of it doesn't hurt you anymore, but... You don't even know how big impact on your life has had on the people that you love."

He felt her hand slowly running through his hair.

"But like I told you before... You're not alone."

Kurt didn't hear those words. He was gone into the world full of memories, leaving reality forgotten.