I.

Another day at work awaited Blaine Anderson as he stepped onto the train. He didn't look forward to half of it, because half of it meant bringing drinks and food to people who didn't appreciate and demanded angrily and were frustrating. But of course, Blaine couldn't get mad. He had to be patient, which is what most waiters are.

Besides, the job's only to pay for his schooling, which he'll start in a year. After banishing himself to New York against his parents' will (mostly his father's, though), he was left on his own. He can't pay for college now. What little money he was given by his brother went to the rent and to food.

During the day, he was a waiter, but when the sun went down and someone else's shift started, he was a performer.

Blaine picked a seat by the door, putting his feet together and his small bag onto his lap. The train was busting with life—little children fussing about with their parents and old men sleeping with their heads pressed against the window. Pulling his coat closer around himself, he looked down onto his bag.

Right, he had a book.

He pulled it out, careful not to draw too much attention to himself. A couple weeks ago, when he was packing for New York, he found an old the Chronicles of Narnia book—one of those editions that compiled several books into one—at the back of his closet. After he finished packing, he vowed to reread the series because honestly? He hadn't done that since he was a kid.

Okay, and maybe he had a little bit of a crush on Edmund Pevensie, but that's beside the point.

Putting his finger in between the bookmark and the page he last read, he opened the book and began reading. Taking the train everyday meant Blaine needed to find a way to pass the time. Reading was always a good way.

He was able to finish a few pages when he felt the strange urge to raise his head.

Blaine didn't know what to think when he saw a boy looking at him—because good god, he looked…looked… really attractive. He had perfectly styled and a pretty shade of brown and his eyes were so blue but green too, a little bit and Blaine couldn't pinpoint an exact colour.

And the boy was standing, hugging a pretty thick pile of papers to his chest.

Blaine's gentlemanly instinct kicked in and he quickly put the book back into his bag and stood up—offering his seat to the boy.

The boy looked a little flustered and a smile tugged at the ends of Blaine's lips but he supressed it. The boy took his seat and Blaine went to lean against a pole—the same the one the boy was holding onto a few moments ago.

He took his book back out and retreated into the magical world. When he was certain the boy wasn't looking, Blaine smiled to himself.

II.

Blaine hadn't finished the book yet. Currently, he was at Prince Caspian and people would complain that he should be able to finish it in a day. Blaine didn't want to rush it—he wanted to absorb every word and every phrase and just everything. He only rushed when he was reading something for the first time, because was an impatient and needed to know what happened.

Taking occasional glances at the people around him, Blaine secretly hoped that boy from yesterday took the train regularly.

He was pretty sure he would be disappointed, considering he'd been in New York for a total of two weeks and yesterday was the first time he saw that boy. Still, Blaine couldn't help but dream.

Blaine continued to read and got lost in the world of Narnia for a while, before the sound of the train door's opening caught his attention. He had missed his stop more than once before, thanks to reading. It wasn't a pleasant experience, especially since his boss wasn't always sunshine and rainbows in the morning.

Instead of finding the regular slurry of old men reading newspapers and young people tapping away at their iPhones, Blaine sees him.

The same boy.

So yesterday wasn't just a coincidence. Blaine smiled to himself and continued to read, not wanting to seem like a freakshow who did nothing on the train except stare at beautiful boys.

Despite his amazingly tenacious self-control, Blaine still stole a glance.

The boy was shuffling through a bunch of papers. It wasn't as much as he had yesterday, but it was still a lot. The boy was focused on reading through the papers, flipping to a new page every minute. Blaine could see that the print was small and light, like a cheap photocopy.

Probably a student, Blaine thought, suddenly bitter he wasn't in College just yet.

The train doors opened again and Blaine's head instinctively looked at the people walking in. An small old lady in a knitted salmon pink bonnet came in, clutching a handbag and smiling at the people who went in with her. Blaine looked around. No seats.

He stood and smiled at the lady, gesturing for her to take his seat. She smiled gratefully at him and sat down, the heels of her boots clicking together as she did. Blaine's smile grew when he noticed that her shoes were the same colour as her hat.

Without really thinking, Blaine glanced back at the boy. He was looking at him. They were looking at each other. Oh my god, Blaine, why are you still staring?

He looked away, trying to hide the blush that was probably creeping up his neck because, man, that guy was hot.

Blaine bit his bottom lip as he walked out the train, secretly hoping that boy would be there tomorrow.

III.

Blaine was almost late.

He didn't even have time to fix up his hair or put on his contacts. All he did was take a quick shower and tried to recount what he had to do for the day as the warm water splashed down his chest. Taker orders. Serve people food. Lunch. Keep a patient smile on. Don't die of boredom.

He shook his head as he walked out, water spraying all over his bathroom floor—but he couldn't care about that now. A second lost could mean being late.

Blaine threw on the first hat he saw—a blue beanie and then put on his black thick rimmed glasses. Putting his contacts into his bag, he rushed out the door and made the familiar trek to the nearest station, his feet slamming onto the pavement and walking with the stream of people who all wanted to get to where they were going on time.

The doors were closing when he reached the subway, but he was able to run in and squeeze in between a few people. Adjusting his glasses, he looked around the train.

The Boy wasn't there.

Blaine sighed and sat down in between a stressed looking young woman and a man with a straggly beard. He pulled out his book and continued to read again.

Two stops later, he's looking up and he can see that face he secretly hoped to see.

Blaine hides behind his glasses as he stares, his book still open on his lap and his mess of hair stuffed into his beanie. The boy was leaning over more papers, again, and was once again reading them with unbroken concentration. Blaine took the time to study his little…friend? No, not friend. Acquaintance.

His nose was smooth and straight and it was pretty much buried in the papers. He had the cutest ears, Blaine thought, unconsciously tugging at his own. The boy's chestnut brown hair was combed perfectly as it sat atop the boy's head.

And his skin was so pale and so white and it looked so smooth. Blaine wanted to touch it.

Okay, now he sounded creepy.

He shook his head, tore his eyes away and returned to his book.

IV.

Blaine decided to give the boy a nickname.

Obviously, going up to him and asking for his actual name was out of the question, because though Blaine may be a little bit shameless, he knows how to avoid seeming creepy.

Maybe Paper Boy. Yeah, that works, because of all the papers he carries around. One day when Blaine's self-control feels particularly weak, he might sit down next to the boy and read over his shoulder.

Blaine walked into the subway, his bag feather light considering there was nothing in it besides a change of clothes and some hair gel for his noon touch up.

Yesterday afternoon, his boss found him hunched over the bar

counter and reading. Needless to say, he's not allowed to read on the job anymore. (Not that he was allowed to in the first place.) He promised himself he'd finish it tonight, before he went to bed.

Well, if he couldn't read, he could at least listen to music.

When he was comfortably seated, Blaine pulled out his iPod and plugged in his earphones. Scrolling through his music, he picked a random playlist and listened.

An orchestra boomed in his ears, followed by the smooth mezzosoprano voice of Eponine. On My Own. Okay, so he picked his Les Mis playlist.

The song was appropriate for the situation, Blaine concluded, since he'd been living in New York alone for a couple of weeks now—with only his brother to provide for him as he worked to earn his own living. Blaine wouldn't have any of it, at first, but Cooper was persistent. He said things along the lines of "You're only eighteen, Blaine" and "What kind of brother would I be if I left you?"

Blaine had grumbled and muttered to himself, "What kind of father wouldn't support me?" Cooper sighed and gave him his number and said he'd be in touch.

True to his word, his brother visited regularly, sometimes bearing gifts from his mother—who still loved Blaine very much—but she had a peculiar little habit of signing things not just from herself, but including his father. It's always "we" or "Your father and I" and never just her. Blaine knew his father didn't really bother with him, but at least his mother made an effort.

Blaine fell out of his train of thought for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to see the fashionable black leather boots of the boy sitting a foot or two to his left. He bit his tongue to keep from gasping.

It was Paper Boy, and he was sitting almost next to him. With just a tiny tiny bit of space separating their bodies, Blaine couldn't think.

He kept his eyes looking straight ahead, but in his peripheral vision, he could see the boy texting, holding his phone close to his face and smiling. Blaine wondered what could be so interesting that Paper Boy looked at his phone instead of him.

No, now that was Blaine being presumptuous. He took a deep breath and continued to listen to his music.

"In my life, there's been no one like him anywhere. Anywhere, where is is…" He stole a sideways glance at the boy. His hair was still beautifully chestnut, black skinny jeans hugged his long legs in all the right places, and Blaine had a hard time willing his eyes away. "If he asked, I'd be his."

When his stop came, Blaine rushed out of the train.

V.

Blaine needed to know this boy's name.

He couldn't stand just sitting there and watching this beautiful boy but not know his name. A series of possibilities raced through his head. Blaine started with the more common ones.

Steve? No, much too…masculine. Not that he was being sexist or…name-ist? Blaine pulled an image of the boy from his memory. It didn't fit.

Bob? Definitely not. Thomas? Maybe, it'd be cute to call him Tommy, but somehow, it still didn't fit. Brad? Sounded like an old man name, no offence to anyone named Brad.

Blaine wracked his head for names, but he couldn't find anything that fit the boy. He was too…He couldn't even find a good enough adjective. There was simply nothing that could describe that boy, and Blaine knew that. Nevertheless, he tried.

He talked to his friend, Wes, about it. Basically, he said that he thought he was insane and shouldn't be falling in love with random strangers he sees on the train. Blaine was shocked. He wasn't falling in love. No, he wasn't. It wasn't really a secret that Blaine Anderson fell fast and when he did he fell hard, but he wasn't so desperate that he'd fall for someone he'd never even properly met.

Was he?

He left his book at home again, having finished it the night before. Blaine promised himself he wouldn't start reading the next book—which started with Prince Caspian and ended in the Silver Chair—until he got home that night.

Plugging in his music, he picked a different playlist today.

An upbeat tempo greeted him and he relaxed into his seat. God, he loved this song. He tapped his foot to the beat of the song and unconsciously, a tiny smile appeared on his face.

When did he add this to his iPod? He must've forgotten, but it was one of those songs he just had to dance to, no matter where he was, but then again, he was in the train. He couldn't just burst into song. This wasn't RENT, so he stayed seated, but he had to at least bob his head.

There was a pause in the song, and Blaine took the opportunity to look around. Paper Boy's stop must've passed by now, right? He scanned the seats next to him, only to be greeted by blue blue eyes, peeking up from the top of a book he didn't recognize.

Was it him? Yes, it had to be.

Blaine couldn't stop himself. Those eyes sparkled too much and his hidden face was just so charming. He smiled, wide and cheerful—like he was greeting an old friend he hadn't seen in years.

He saw the boy's body tense for a second before Paper Boy hid his face completely. Blaine cocked his head to the side, wondering if it was something he did. Maybe he was a tad bit too creepy? It was just a smile.

When he got off, he spent the rest of the day wondering if the book concealed a blush.

VII.

Blaine got a good tip last night.

No, scratch that. It wasn't a good tip. It was a fantastic and wondrous and unbelievable and phenomenal and indescribable tip and he couldn't believe that anyone would be willing to give him something to fantastic.

That's right. Blaine Anderson got an audition.

Last night, right after he finished performing a medley of Maroon 5 songs, a man came up to him and left a hundred dollar bill in his tip jar. After Blaine got over the initial shock, the man called him over to his table and asked him to sit down.

He was casting director for a musical that's currently in the works, and he thinks Blaine would do himself good if he auditioned.

Blaine was high with excitement all night. He couldn't sleep and instead resigned to staring at the calling card the man had given him—with the audition details written on the back. He wasn't too familiar with New York yet, but he had an idea about where it was. He could probably find his way there, with a map and some directions given by a friendly strangers.

Maybe that's why he didn't notice Paper Boy that day. Well, he did, for a second, but even a gorgeous stranger couldn't distract him from the euphoria he felt at that moment.

Blaine stood on the train, energy bounding out of him in clumps he couldn't control. He was practically dancing as he walked out of the train that day.

Things were finally picking up.

X.

Blaine hadn't seen the blue eyed boy in a while.

Well, he wasn't one to count days, but he didn't remember seeing him yesterday. That probably felt like two days to him considering he didn't see Paper Boy on his way home and that he was a clingy person.

Could you be clingy to a person you don't even talk to?

Once most of the initial buzz from getting the audition had worn off, Blaine started to worry. What song was he going to sing? How was he supposed to sing two songs? The guy had told him to prepare two numbers; one cheerful and upbeat number, and a moving ballad.

While his iPod would undoubtedly give him the right songs for the job, Blaine wracked his brain for the right ones. Which showtune would do for the ballad? Or should he go for something less stereotypical and maybe a pop/rock song? Maybe a showtune for the upbeat number. The thing with these auditions is that he had to stand out, and considering he wasn't at all experienced with New York or its inhabitants, Blaine had no idea what to expect.

In a flurry of nerves for an audition that was two weeks away, Blaine called his friend Wes, who was a year older than he was and had already landed a gig off-Broadway, playing Angel is a small production of RENT. He remembered making fun of him for landing the role, considering how straight his friend was. Wes laughed it off, praising himself for his spectacular acting. Blaine then asked him how his girlfriend would react. Wes hadn't told her, which resulted in another wave of laughter.

Yes, he missed his friend.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Wes, dude, how's it going?"

"Blaine! Hey. Haven't heard from you in a while." He could hear the smile in his friend's voice. Blaine had plenty of friends back in high school, but very few of them carried on until after graduation. They left Ohio to pursue their aspirations and left Blaine to fulfil his own star-studded dreams. Would've been nice if they kept in touch, though. Wes did.

They had talked for a while, Blaine first asking Wes how he was and how the show was treating him. Rehearsals had ended a couple of days ago. He wasn't sure when opening night had been, but Blaine was sure it had already happened. Wes said it was perfectly fine Blaine couldn't come watch him—considering he had just settled into New York and was trying to earn money. His unadulterated support and just talking to him over the phone was enough for both of them.

Wes had given him good advice, telling him that it was normal to be nervous for your first audition, although Blaine didn't have to be. These things were always competitive, but the most important part of the equation was confidence. Blaine had to believe that he deserved the part. He had to believe he was talented enough for it.

"And honestly, Blaine? I think you are." He could almost imagine Wes—the same as he was two years ago—giving Blaine's shoulder a squeeze before one of his big competition solos.

Well, after that kind of encouragement, there was no way he was going to let himself blow this audition.

Blaine dragged himself out of bed that morning and had to drink two cups of coffee to wake himself up. For some reason, worrying his heart out the night before had drained him. The noise of the subway helped his unusual drowsiness waver, but not by much. He sits with the rattling for a couple minutes before he realizes he hadn't even brought his iPod. Great.

Wait, he had his book.

He pulled it out and flipped to the page marked by his bookmark. After a couple seconds of letters swirling around, Blaine gave up and stared at the page. He couldn't even read properly. What was wrong with him?

Sitting there, his fingers fidgety on the book cover from the caffeine in his system, he wished something could maybe make the strange funk he was in go away.

Sometimes life grants wishes in the strangest ways.

When the train pulled up at what Blaine had dubbed as "Paper Boy's stop", he silently prayed that the boy would walk through those doors with a smile on his face.

The boy did walk in, albeit the smile.

Blaine was only able to watch him for about two seconds when someone else caught his attention. A little girl in a darling little pink coat walks over and plops down next to him, smiling. There's a tiny gap in between her front teeth that Blaine finds absolutely adorable.

"Do you like my coat?" She asked him, the smile wide and lingering as she waited for a reply. Blaine was slightly shocked that this little girl could just go over to him and initiate conversation like it was nothing. Hadn't her mother ever taught her not to talk to strangers? But then again, Blaine didn't exactly look threatening, with his white and green spitted polo and khaki pants. Still. Blaine's eyes unconsciously darted around for a split second, searching for a woman who could be this girl's mother.

When his eyes land back on the little girl, he smiled back—wide and happy—and then replied.

"Oh, yeah." Blaine said, looking her up and down. "That's a pretty little coat you've got there." He had zero experience with children, but he loved them. They had nothing to worry about in their little world of crayons and naptime and Blaine would give anything to be that carefree.

The way her face lit up at his words—why didn't Blaine have kids again? "Thank you!" She almost jumped up to wrap her arms around him, and he was a bit shocked. Her tiny arms weren't big enough to loop around his torso completely, but she grabbed onto his clothes. Blaine didn't know what to do with his one free arm, but he eventually settled for patting her back lightly.

Blaine kept the smile plastered on his face as she spoke again. "My mommy says people always dress nice in New York." He couldn't help but sneak a sideway glance to Paper Boy, who was probably one of the many people whose sense of style he admired.

He looked at the girl again and answered, "Oh, I agree. Some of the people here have the prettiest clothes, though I can't really speak for myself." He ran a hand over his clothes, which he admitted didn't like. Blaine was in a rush that morning, and fashion was the last thing on his mind. He'd be wearing an apron at work, anyway. "I know about as much about fashion as I know about quantum physics, which, in cast you don't know, isn't very much." He couldn't help but add a touch of humour. The small girl's face was adorable as she pursed her lips and nodded solemnly, as if soaking in what he just said.

Blaine opened his mouth to ask her where his mother was, but she had her eyes set on another person.

That other person was him. That boy. His blue eyes widened as the girl called out to her, "Your coat is pretty too!" She let go of Blaine and went over to where Paper Boy was sitting, smiling up at him. Blaine's eyes trained on the boy, curious as to how he'd respond.

He smiled.

Wow.

He has a pretty smile.

"Th-thank you," He said, and his voice ringed in Blaine's eyes longer than necessary. It was high, but strong and smooth and just…wow. He couldn't keep his thoughts straight, so he just stared at boy. God, he must've looked creepy.

"Yours is pretty neat too. I love pink." Paper Boy said, the smile lingering as he spoke and pointed at the girl's coat, "And I must say, the boots were a lovely touch. Quite an eye for fashion, you." She squeaked at the compliment, and Blaine had a hard time deciding which was more adorable—Paper Boy's or the little girl's smile.

The girl went back to her mother after thanking the boy. Blaine was still looking at him. The boy's eyes went from where the girl was right to Blaine, and he was sure as hell that his heart stopped for a second.

The boy's eyes widened a bit, and for some reason, it made Blaine chuckle to himself. Being that cute should be a federal offence.

Blaine looked away and resumed reading before he had an opportunity to embarrass himself.

XII.

The encounter with the little girl and the gorgeous boy didn't help Blaine's spirits. Sure, it cheered him up for a train ride, but the anxiety about his audition and about life in general was still freaking him out.

Plus, there was a really rude woman in the restaurant last night and with every moment he had a serve her, it seemed more and more likely that she was sent there just to make Blaine feel worse.

Wiping tables made him wish that he could just go back to his book which was sitting on a table in the backroom, but no. He promised his boss. No more reading on the job. He could reopen the world of Narnia after he finished his shift and went for Lunch.

He was feeling better this morning, because even though his day shift sucked, he was able to get a decent amount of tips. And that made him exhausted and he got a full night of sleep.

When Blaine walked into the train, he was already clutching his book. The last thing he wanted to do today was to wait tables but he had no choice.

He plopped down on the first empty seat he found and cracked open his book immediately. Blaine dropped into the fictional world and stayed there. He didn't think about the blue eyed boy the whole ride.

Blaine was absorbed. The world around him melted away and for a while, nothing worried him. That was the beauty of the book. When people did heroic things, they were rewarded, and there weren't always happy endings but happy things always happened to the good people. Blaine wished that's how it worked. Good things happened to good people and bad things happened to bad people. He found himself wishing misfortune on the woman who yelled at him for taking more than two seconds to refill her wine glass.

The sound of doors opened shocked him out of his trance. Crap, crap, crap, crap. If he missed his stop, it would definitely make him late. And his boss would yell at him. And the last thing Blaine wanted was someone else yelling at him.

He went out of the train as fast as he could, the double doors almost catching on his bag as he left.

Blaine didn't notice something had fallen out of his book.