Disclaimer: I don't own Glee

Chapter 1: Kurt

Title: Face of Love

I was hanging out in the Lima Bean with Santana, Brittany, and Quinn, when I saw him: the face of love. I didn't know his name. But, at this moment, I finally know his face. My friends wouldn't approve, though. But for once, I don't care about what my peers say- I just...knew he was perfect.

"See something you like, Hummel?" santana raised her eyebrow at me.

"Just wondering what those boys in uniforms would think of our asses," I said. That statement was wrong in so many ways. First, I was thinking of a boy in particular; singular (I know my English); second, the translation is: what would-"...order for Blaine!"- Blaine, apparently (I like it) think of me; third, I am a closeted virgin; and lastly, I can't bring myself to care about the other boys. Not when he's all I can see. Okay... I sound like a major stalker.

"Not think. Do." Quinn said. She stood up, and the rest of us followed.

She used to date my step-brother Finn Hudson. My dad married his mom, Carole. Thus, making us siblings. Admittedly, I used to have a crush on him. I don't know what got into me. now we're a big happy family; We accepted Finn won't forget his dad, and I won't forget my mom. But Carole is a lovely woman.

We approached them, asking them if we could share a table. They said yes, but Blaine looked uncomfortable. His bronze-hazel (I secretly think Twilight ruined the term "golden" eyes.) eyes were full of life. Until, we came- he felt us flirting for sure.

We talked for a while. Blaine never spoke. He laughed and smile half-heartedly. By the time it was 6 pm, they had to say goodbye. Quinn got David's number, Santana got wes', and Brittany got Thad's. i was the only unlucky one.

When we headed out the door, I talked to him with much courage I can muster. "Hey...Blaine, right?" I asked.

He grinned. "Yeah."

"You okay? You didn't entertain the other girls." I took a pause and realized, "oh I get it. you have girlfriend issues." Someone as perfect as him shouldn't be single. His eyes widened. He must've sensed my change in demeanor.

"No, it's just that," he sighed, "I'm gay. I wish there was another way to indirectly say it. I'm really sorry if I hurt your feelings." At that, my heart broke. Yet, I couldn't stay mad at him. He was still so sweet. "I hope we can be friends though." He held out his hand.

"Okay," I said, shaking his hand. He had calloused fingers, not unlike a guitarist's. I felt a tiny spark when our hands touched. Then again, it can only be me.

That night, i slept with wet cheeks.