As Kurt Hummel flipped the sign of the tiny bookshop from 'closed' to 'open', a feeling of expectation and anticipation burned in his chest. Something thrilling was going to happen this year, he could feel it. Something new - something exciting. It had taken weeks to redecorate after having inherited the shop from an old gentleman who had to move to Florida due to his elderly condition, but right now, taking in the warm, inviting atmosphere that smelled of old books and fairytales, Kurt would admit that it was perfect. It was his. It was all his. Kurt squealed internally and did a little happy pirouette on the spot. It was perfect.
It was late Saturday, just one hour until closing time, and Kurt was exhausted yet ecstatic from the constant flow of costumers he had had during the day. A few of them admittedly had probably searched refugee from the biting New York autumn, accepting hot beverages and looking through the shelves. Most of the people who came in left with a new book in their hands, and Kurt thrilled at all the money they had left in his register.
Not expecting anymore visitors this late, Kurt was putting some books back on their spots, soft jazz playing in the background, when the cold draft from the front door being pulled open and quickly closed again filled the room. Straightening up, a welcoming smile already on his face, he turned to face the new arrival. His smile dithered as the breath was knocked out of him. With rosy cheeks, a long mustard yellow scarf draped around his neck, a messy disarray of dark curls and warm coffee eyes that seemed to be flickering from the candle lights, the man's face lit up in a hesitant smile, his eyes drifted quickly up and down Kurt's body appreciatory, taking him in, before blushing and ducking his head. The men looked to be around Kurt's age, perhaps twenty-five years old, take or give, and he was absolutely stunning. Kurt had never seen anyone look that much like someone stepped right out of a fairytale. It was crazy. Kurt felt his cheeks redden, and he ducked his head as well.
"Hi," Kurt said tentatively, brushing a hand ineptly down his face. The boy lifted his head and gave him a crooked smile, bringing a glove-clad hand up and giving a little wave.
"Come on in, I'll make you a drink! What do you want?" Kurt walked back to the back of the front desk, searching through the drawers. He frowned, "I'm sorry, I only have coffee left, is that OK?" The man had taken his scarf and coat off, revealing the most adorable outfit consisting of an olive sweater vest that clung tight to the shape of his body, and a black bowtie. A bow tie, Kurt thought, kill me now. The man nodded his head in reply as he stepped further into the shop, taking in the hundreds of books that were stacked around the room, his eyes glinting.
Kurt quietly brewed the coffee, letting the man search in peace. Apparently he wasn't a big talker. The stranger kept pulling fairytale books out from the shelves, flipping through them with adoration on his face, before gently putting them back, clasping his hands behind his back. Kurt studied him for a second; he moved so gallantly, keeping his posture straight and proper. He seemed to be from a different time, a time of gentlemen and chivalry. Kurt put his coffee down on the desk before pulling out a box with crème, milk and a bowl with little white sugar cubes. "Help yourself," he said softly, careful not to startle the man who seemed to be in his own world. The man gave yet another smile, still not saying anything, as he added two sugar cubes and a pinch of crème to his coffee, before taking a sip and swayed a bit on the spot a happy smile still tugging at his lips.
Kurt waited for him to say something, but when it became evident that he wouldn't he asked, "What is your name?" The man seemed to ponder him for a bit, before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a little book with blank papers. He grabbed a pencil from the front pocket of his vest and quickly scribbled out, "Blaine. What about you?"
Kurt stared at him, suddenly feeling sort of empty and very stupid. "So you're…?" he trailed off, not sure how to formulate himself. Blaine gave him sort of a sad smile, nodding almost unnoticeable. Kurt didn't know what to say. Blaine waited for a second, letting Kurt think it through a bit more, before pointing at Kurt's chest and raisin one adorably triangular eyebrow. "Oh, sorry!" Kurt said, reaching out a hand, "I'm Kurt." Blaine's hand was warm and strong and felt like comfort and home. And as their eyes locked across the desk, Kurt once again felt the burning in his chest, the emotions dancing in anticipation for tomorrow.