This story was written for NaNoWriMo, and was a project where I wanted to test various things and give myself new challenges as a writer. This is mostly a fluffy piece, and me trying something different as a writer, and I hope you'll enjoy it. Blaine and Kurt didn't meet during high school, and that's about all you need to know. I don't stray too far from canon up to Kurt's graduation in other ways, but some on certain aspects, which I think will be clear eventually, but feel free to message me if you have questions.

The story is in 21 chapters, and an epilogue. As the story is 97 per cent finished written, or so I think, I'll update fairly frequent, but I don't dare to commit to a set schedule, because things have a tendency to interfere.

Spoiler alert - I don't want them, you've seen more of season 5 than I have yet, so please don't talk about it :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, or anything else you might recognize here.

Blaine stretches his sore arms in the air, standing on his toes and pushing himself as long as possible. His fingers reach for the ceiling, without being close to touching it, before dropping. He shakes his arms, clenches his fists, and exhales deeply. He hasn't had time to find a gym after he moved to New York, somewhere he can continue the boxing he enjoyed so much at his high school Dalton Academy – as a stress reliever, for physical exhaustion, and to keep in shape. It's been more than four months since graduation, he's lived in New York for almost three, and he's not as strong anymore. He doesn't like it, he doesn't like to experience his body disappointing him, he doesn't like the reflection in the mirror revealing his arms and body losing definition, and he doesn't like to acknowledge how unprotected it makes him.

After that dance, it's been important for him to stay in shape, and to take care of his body. That night taught him two things: Life is unpredictable, and your body is a fragile place to be. Ever since, he's made sure to be in shape. He doesn't know if it'll actually work, but it eases his mind to hope he can protect himself if he ever needs to again.

These days, the only exercise he gets is frantically running around on campus to find classrooms he hasn't memorized where are and how to reach most easily yet, and restocking shelves and refrigerators in his job. As soon as he's gotten a grip on college life and established some familiarity and routine, he'll have to find a gym. His body needs it, his sanity craves it.

He takes a step back to evaluate his handiwork. It's a slow night, so he's restocked most of the shelves in the small shop. They weren't empty, most of them actually more than half-full. But he needed something to do. He had spent thirty minutes trying to play Roar on the harmonica he bought on eBay on a whim last week, without a single customer interrupting. So he decided to brim the shelves.

His body reminds him that all the crouching, lifting and stretching are still unfamiliar movements, but he shushes it patiently, ignores its whining. It's simply a reminder that he needs to find his gym.

He looks around in the small shop, wondering if there is something else he can do. There are still more than three hours left of his shift, which ends at 5 AM, so maybe he should perfect Roar before sweeping the floors, preparing yesterday's newspapers for return, or checking the refrigerators for groceries with an approaching expiry date to put in front.

So Blaine sits down by the cash register, and picks up the harmonica again. He's grateful for the job. One of his best friends from Dalton; Wes, helped him land it. Wes' dad has a cousin who runs a 24/7 grocery store, and was interested in hiring a student willing to do a couple of night shifts each week. Luckily for Blaine, Mr. Parks recently had to fire one of his employees for smoking weed in the store, and Blaine had been more than willing to move to New York a couple of weeks earlier than intended to begin his new job as soon as possible. Before he left, his Dalton friends threw a big farewell party. The graduates would be scattered around the States, some of them even going to Europe and Australia, and who knew when they'd see each other again? Blaine, really sentimental and slightly drunk, had hugged Wes and thanked him profusely for the job.

"Don't mention it," Wes had smiled. "You know the Asian community; it's tight," Wes had winked. With his Filipino mom and American dad, Blaine probably wasn't more than an honorary Asian – not Asian enough for some and not American enough for others, but it's okay. He's used to not being enough. Not masculine enough, not tall enough, not straight enough to pass without a nagging wonder, not gay enough to avoid girls' advances, not strategic and determined enough to please his dad.

The small – or as Blaine likes to think about both himself and his work place; compact - 24/7 store is located in the basement of an old, tall brick building in Bushwick, with offices on the ground floor, and apartments of various sizes on the next six floors. The building is located on a calmer backstreet, withdrawn from the busiest activities, and in a cheaper area. Blaine probably wouldn't ever stumble upon it if he didn't know about it. But he isn't exactly a local either, an Ohioan boy who recently moved into his brother's apartment on Manhattan, about thirty minutes with the subway from work.

Mr. Parks had to be doing well enough if he kept the store open 24/7, even though Blaine's shifts usually are calm. Two nights a week and one night in the weekend, he works from 8 PM to 5 AM, when the eager morning bird Mr. Parks comes back to man the store. The day after working isn't always the easiest, but fortunately he doesn't have many morning classes. The shop is also quiet enough for him to get some reading done, so he can sleep during some of the hours he'd otherwise study. Blaine has always had a lenient relationship to sleep patterns and separating night from day, so this suits him fine. He is Nightbird, after all. He's also lucky enough to be able to sleep whenever he wants to, giving him even more flexibility to juggle work and studies. It's only a little more than one month into his first college semester ever, so he expects it to be rougher later, but for now he manages.

Eventually, he probably should find a job closer to where he lives, with better working hours. Or find a job more relevant to his education. Blaine wants to be a performer, not a cashier. But for now, he's just glad Wes could help him. It's not easy to land a job among the myriad of new students in the city and other New Yorkers who are desperate for a part-time job. This job secures a steady income, and if he finds something better, he can simply quit. But for now, he's happy to be here. He has time to read, he hopes the harmonica can help him compose music for class, he rehearses dance steps between the aisles, and there's coffee brewing in the back. The work tasks are easy, and it didn't take him long to conquer the register at all. The customers are usually nice. He's begun to recognize the regulars, and appreciates the nocturnal small talks with the now familiar faces. He doesn't have to travel or work during rush hours. Despite his mom's worries, he isn't afraid of armed robbery. Yes, there are many reasons to appreciate his job.

The few things he doesn't particularly enjoy about his job, is the lack of natural light in the basement and the lack of reception in the underground store. The store is lit sufficiently; he just misses watching out of windows, observing the world around him. And when there is a lull, it's impossible to pick up his phone to kill some time texting friends and his brother who live in parts of the world which have daytime when it's after midnight in New York, or explore the internet for entertainment.

His brother Cooper lives in LA, and got his big break almost a year ago, with his supporting role in the latest Martin Scorsese-movie. Coop had decided to invest some of his pay check in an apartment on Manhattan, so he had somewhere to stay if he had to relocate for upcoming projects. It had struck Blaine as a bit odd, because his brother was more of a live in the moment-kind of guy, rather than planning for his future. Coop's purchase came after Blaine applied for college, and an eager brother had instantly suggested Blaine should stay there instead of in clammy, crowded, dirty, yucky dorms. So far, Blaine's had the one bedroom-apartment to himself. When Cooper eventually needs it, Blaine plans to sleep on the couch, or if Cooper will stay for long, maybe Blaine should find his own place. But for now, he's happy to stay, even though the apartment is swankier than expected for a college Freshman. Fortunately, Blaine is a mature and sensible boy, and he couldn't dream about throwing a party or anything else reckless. The neighbourhood is safe and calm, the concierge always has a smile for him, he has mastered the art of travelling with the subway, he splurged and went to see a real Broadway show after his first pay check, school looks promising, and there are some friendly faces in his class he's had lunch with and can chat with between classes. All in all, Blaine's life is pretty put together.

Still, Blaine can't help feel something is missing in his life. At Dalton, he dated Sebastian on and off, with Sebastian dictating the temperature of their relationship, and it had in hindsight probably been more fooling around than actual dating. At least Blaine had learned a lot from the more experienced boy, and he also knows more about what he looks for in a partner and relationship now. After graduation, they mutually decided to split, because they clearly wanted different things and would be doing that in different places. When Blaine discovered how not heartbroken he was, he promised himself to go slow from now on, and not throw himself around. He wanted romance, he wanted sweet gestures, he wanted inside jokes, he wanted a soul mate, he wanted a real boyfriend. For the other things, there is porn.

Working nothing but nights means that Blaine gets to interact with a certain kind of customer. The segment is most definitely quite narrow compared to the general population in New York as a whole. Their purchases probably reflect the imbalanced representation as well.

He's been approached by a fair share of bacchanalian customers, and is proud to say he hasn't sold a single one of them any alcohol. His easy way with people, his manners and patience, probably helps him to convince the customers they should buy some water, Advils and coffee instead. They also often end up buying a lot of junk food. Seeing as he works in a grocery store, and not some take away-shack, he can only hope they don't fall asleep from the frozen pizzas they are cooking or the microwave dishes they are heating. Snacks in every variety and bags of ice are also classics, and he wonders if there are any dorms nearby, or simply a lot of students and young people accidentally living in the area, leading the good life.

His nights can be so brimmed with contrasts it's amusing, thinking about how different lives people in the same city, and even the same street, can live. There's a certain crossing point between three and five, when some people end their day and others begin theirs. Some are stumbling home after a party, while others are getting up, bleary eyed and semiconscious, to begin their shift somewhere. They have in common that they often drop by Blaine. They don't have a coffee machine in the store, and maybe he should suggest it to Mr. Parks. But the store is only a block away from the subway entrance, and they have iced coffee, pick me up-red bulls, fruit, some packed lunch-options, and other possibilities for the dawn haters and lovers.

Some of the customers seem to fall between the home from party or off to work-categories. Blaine is curious about them, and likes to create stories in his mind about them. He likes to think about it as plot and character-exercises for class, and not creepy behaviour. Depending on his mood, he has created stories about vampires that are hiding during daylight, and do their shopping at night time. One man is a struggling author who is struck by inspiration, writing until his fingers bleed, and he needs a cigarette break on his tiny balcony. But he's out of cigarettes, again, and has to run down to Blaine for his nicotine fix. Once, Blaine noticed a heavily bearded man showed up during full moon to buy chocolate and batteries, and Blaine had easily conjured an entire gay erotic werewolf-trilogy for him, involving a sparkling dildo and melted dark chocolate.

Then there are the regulars, who know the store better than they know Blaine, because he's still new, invading their territory. But he's beginning to recognize faces; some have gotten names to them, and some have left him titbits of information, intentionally or by happenchance. Blaine likes to gather the information and puzzle the pieces, making a picture, guessing the unknown and revealing new traits and quirks.

Some people are more interesting than others. Some are less memorable, even though he tries to be his polite and charming self, treating everyone with a certain degree of kindness, and thanking them for choosing his particular corner for groceries and night time emergency goods. And some are unforgettable, catching his attention from the second they walk in.

For instance the young man entering at this moment does, the old cow bell over the door jingling annoyingly to alert Blaine of a new customer. Which is stupid, really, because the store isn't exactly huge, it's impossible to hide in it, and Blaine can see all of it from his tall stool by the cash register.

The young man, however, is far from annoying.

There's no established pattern to his visits, so Blaine tries to prevent himself from hoping tonight is the night he'll come by again whenever he clocks in for a new shift. He tries not to expect him or wait for him. The young man drops by often enough to be considered a regular, but Blaine hasn't been able to establish what kind of shopping category he falls into. There's no predictability or pattern or repeated actions that help Blaine decide that the young man is on his way to work, on his way home from a party, a nocturnal struggler, or any other category in which Blaine usually can sort his customers. Well, that's not accurate. Blaine has ruled out that he's some homeless guy seeking out the grocery store for warmth, because he's usually dressed immaculately and sometimes in outfits Blaine recognizes from Vogue. He doesn't strike Blaine as an alcoholic either. Blaine is against generalizations, and knows that alcoholics come in all shapes and from all social classes. But the young man has never ever bought any alcohol from him, or even showed up inebriated. Even though Blaine isn't certain about the boy's age, although probably around his own, he thinks even underage alcoholics would try to buy booze if they had an addiction.

Blaine has tried to construct a background story for the boy, but despite of his returning customer-status, it isn't much Blaine knows about the boy. So he's stuck with his far-out and creative speculations.

He knows that he is devastatingly handsome, with eyes he can drown in. So expressive, so deep, so mesmerizing. He can't describe their colour, though; it seems to change from day to day. He looks otherworldly, with his lively eyes, fair skin, lithe figure and sometimes quite outrageous clothes – but Blaine will never judge him for it, he'll always admire someone bold enough to make fashion statements and dress however they want to, even though he may have other preferences for his own wardrobe. Blaine is pretty sure the boy is gay, but after leaving Ohio he's realized that metrosexual young men with stereotypical looks and interests often prefer girls, and that it's both okay and normal to stand out without being pegged as a deviant, as gay. In a colourful city as New York, it can actually be difficult to stand out. There are more shapes to men in New York, and not only the jocks, nerds and queers from his first high school, or the homogenous uniform clad bunch of boys at Dalton.

Blaine knows he's infatuated with the gorgeous customer, otherwise it wouldn't have bugged him this much that he doesn't know more about him, and Blaine would have simply settled with creating his own story instead of longing for accurate details and information. He may have thought about the young man as a spectacular alien at some point, in a scenario where the Nightbird made an alliance with the beautiful creature to create a better intergalactic world, and then they fell in love and got married in a chariot on the Milky Way.

Even Blaine knows that's farfetched.

He just wants to know more about him. Or, rather, something. The young man is always polite, thanking him and bidding his farewell, smiling enough to be friendly without making it personal, private or intimate. Sometimes he knows exactly what he needs, and is in and out of the store within minutes. Other times, he takes his time walking up and down the few aisles, as if weighing his options. Blaine, not a stalker but a concerned cashier, follows him with his eyes, and that's when he sees him at his most bared. As the boy compares two cans of peas and tomatoes, his face is brought to life, and Blaine can almost see his internal discussion flash over his face, when he thinks he isn't seen. The boy makes Blaine feel curious, and he just wants to know him. There's something captivating about him, and Blaine has the distinct impression that he's someone worth getting to know. If only Blaine wasn't so shy and inhibited around cute boys…

But maybe cashier-Blaine is braver than Ohio-Blaine, and can in all of his professionalism dare to talk to the pretty customer. Blaine, who usually is so eloquent and socially adapt, able to function in any setting after having been through one too many dinner parties and social events as an Anderson-son, has never mastered the art of flirting. Either he makes too grand gestures out of it, or he treats his infatuations as world secrets. With Sebastian, it had been straightforward, because the other boy never hid his intentions and desires, and it had been easy to simply join in and let Sebastian succumb him, and take the lead. But Blaine can't approach a customer with sexual innuendos, so he'll have to brave small talk with the boy he can't get out of his mind, trying to get closer to him that way. Hopefully, one day, he'll be able to string a sensible sentence in front of him.