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Chapter Text

An involuntary smile creeps up on Blaine’s face when he finally re-enters the ballroom and sees the big golden chandelier surrounded by little twinkling lights. Gentle music is playing in the background and heavy perfume lingers in the air – too strong for his taste, so he wrinkles his nose out of reflex before he notices and immediately relaxes his face again.

No need to give the photographers around a reason to print anything other than the picture perfect (and perfectly staged) photos of him and his mother greeting the Duke and Duchess de la Champagne in front of the ballroom door.

He sighs quietly and absentmindedly smooths out his red sash over his dark blue uniform jacket.

With his father leaving his mother, the Queen of Spain, for another woman, his family has been connected to more than enough drama this year. He just wants this New Year’s Party to end, leave all the whispers behind and start fresh. Let the press focus on something else for a while, maybe even something really important like climate change or corruption or… well, anything, really.

“Oops, I'm so sorry!”, he exclaims as he turns around and bumps into a beautiful blonde with green eyes, so lost in thought that he lost track on where he was going. In return, she just smiles at him and casts down her eyes as she mumbles ”Oh, it’s alright, really…” in what is probably a very suggestive matter. He just smiles back politely and excuses himself.

He really doesn’t feel like disappointing another hopeful social climber trying to convince him that he’s actually straight in their effort to date a quote-unquote “real prince”. No, thank you.

A server with a tray of champagne glasses passes him by and he grabs one, raises it to his lips to take a sip but freezes when he locks eyes with a boy leaning against a pillar across the room, staring at him.

It’s like all sounds around him die down, the music, the chatter, the fake laughs, and all he can hear is his heartbeat, somehow pounding in his ear instead of his chest. There’s a slow smile spreading on the other boy’s face who raises his own glass of champagne in a toast and Blaine knows, he should toast back, should smile and be polite and everything he was trained to be but he can’t, he just can’t, all he can do is stare as the other boy frowns and tilts his head in confusion, then shrugs and turns away.

A dancing young couple suddenly blocks Blaine’s line of sight and it hauls him back to the present, the music roaring in his head and all the voices making him dizzy. What was that? What just happened?

“Blaine, darling, are you alright? You look a little pale.”

He looks to his right and is met with his mother’s worried face. Suddenly out of breath, he just nods, mumbles something about needing fresh air and starts walking, almost running over the dance floor, sidesteps dancing couples and waiters with trays until he arrives where the other boy just stood – only to find the place empty. He whirls around, frantically scanning the crowd, not really sure that he wants to spot him but feeling sick when he doesn’t. Closing his eyes, he leans back against the pillar and runs his hand through his hair.

What's wrong with me?

He takes a deep breath and then a sip of champagne, almost spitting it out immediately when a velvety voice whispers into his ear: “So you really are real. And here I thought for a moment I had made this pretty little boy in his pretty little uniform all up in my pretty little head.”

Blaine’s eyes fly open as his face blushes crimson and he turns around. To his left, somewhat hidden in the shadow of the pillar stands the boy whose deep green eyes caught his just a few moments ago. If he’s honest, for a second he thought so too, that his mind was so tired of debutantes fluttering their lashes at him that he made up a boy with a grin as entrancing as the first rays of sun after a long winter and a glint in his eye as mesmerizing as the brightest diamond in his mother’s vault.

Still, here he is, real and smiling at Blaine and leaning even closer. “My Prince, weren’t you taught that it’s rude to stare?”

Blaine blinks twice, then shakes his head trying to regain control over his body. “I’m sorry, I… you… I mean…” Get a grip and just talk to him! Frustrated by the apparent loss of his communication skills, he exhales loudly which only makes the other boy chuckle.

“So, he does speak. Not in complete sentences but I’m nothing but patient. And luckily”, he reaches out and takes Blaine's glass to put it on the floor before he holds out his hand that Blaine takes with no hesitation, “talking is not required for dancing.”

With that, he pulls him out on the dancefloor and wraps his arm around his waist, falls in step with the other couples waltzing around them. Blaine doesn’t make a conscious decision, just lets his muscle memory and the other’s gentle guidance take over as they make their way through the room, the other boy’s eyes scanning their way for any obstacles while his own never look away from his face.

He's beautiful, Blaine decides, with his sharp angles and soft skin, light brown hair swept back and half a head taller. His posture screams royalty but his face is new, none he has seen before which he would clearly remember. He’s wearing a regular black suit, perfectly fitted with no hint of where he came from or who he is. The accent seemed American, the behavior European and his whole being just seems out of this world. Maybe I really did imagine him and am still lost in a dream?

As the music comes to an end, so does their dance and the other boy turns his head towards him again. Just when he’s 90% sure he found his voice to ask who he is, the boy leans in again and his lips oh so close to Blaine’s ear make his mouth dry out like the Sahara again.

“Meet me at midnight.” It’s only this one sentence he murmurs before he leaves Blaine standing there, dumbfounded and overwhelmed, as he watches him retreat towards the terrace, disappear in a sea of bodies.

He glances at the big grandfather clock to his left.

It’s 11:47.

Blaine waits until 11:55, unsure of what to do: On the one hand he should find his mother, count down to midnight and pose for the press – on the other hand, there’s something like a magnetic pull urging him to follow that boy out the terrace doors and see what happens.

It’s three minutes until midnight when he finally gives in, rushes out of the golden framed glass doors to the terrace. There are only a few people out here but a quick glance assures him, the mystery boy is not one of them. His heart sinks thinking he missed him – again – and that he waited too long – again – when he spots some traces of shoes in the fine dust of snow that covers the stairs down into the garden.

He follows them without rethinking and thankfully, down 5 flights of stairs and in a corner hidden from the moonlight, he sees the other boy leaning casually against a wall that’s probably in full bloom in summer but is now wrapped in boney trenches and dried leaves. As their eyes meet, the other smiles that lazy smile again, pushes himself off of the wall and starts walking towards Blaine who is still trying to catch his breath from basically running down the stairs.

“Leaving me waiting is not necessarily a habit I should support, I guess”, he says as he stops so close, Blaine can feel his breath on his lips and he has to look up to look him in the eyes. Somewhere in the distance, the clock strikes midnight and the other boy raises his hand to brush his thumb over Blaine’s lips. “But it’s midnight on New Year’s Eve”, the second stroke echoes, “and I’m standing with a beautiful boy in a snow-dusted castle garden”, three strokes, “and I have a pretty good idea on how you can make it up to me.”

He leans down by the forth stroke, their lips almost touching.

“Wait”, Blaine whispers, resisting the urge to close the distance. Five strokes. “What’s your name?”

“Is that really important?”

Six. “Yes.” 

A huff of air indicates a chuckle. “Sebastian.”

“I’m Blaine.”

“I know.”

“How?” Seven.

“Everyone at this party knows who you are, Prince Blaine. I asked around when I saw you at the beginning of the evening.” Eight. He feels Sebastian’s lips curl into a smile. “Half the room is in love with you, it wasn’t that hard to get information.” Nine.

“Why?”

“I needed to get to know you.”

“Why?” Ten.

“Cause I’ve never seen anyone look as happy and as sad as you did when you came in. Like you behave how you should but not how you want to. And all I wanted from that moment”, the eleventh stroke hits, “was to light up this face with a real smile for once.”

Blaine is stunned to silence for a second. No one ever saw through him that quickly, no one could ever tell his carefully placed mask from his real face. But all it took for Sebastian was one glance…

As the twelfth stroke clangs through the night, he pushes himself forward, his lips connecting with Sebastian’s and his hands shooting up to wind in his hair as Sebastian’s arm wraps around his waist, tighter than when they were dancing, his other hand roaming over his back.

It’s dangerous what he’s doing, losing himself in this kiss. If someone would see or take a picture, he would be tomorrow’s headline - if they would even wait that long. He’s tempted to pull back but then Sebastian’s hand glides into his back pocket and turns their bodies around, pushes him up against the stone wall behind him and hides them in the shadows. Blaine loses all conscious thought.

In his mind, there’s just Sebastian’s hands and his mouth and his hair and his body and how the champagne bubbles under his skin and everything suddenly feels warmer than it ever has.

Chapter Text

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing, could be minutes, could be hours, he just knows when they stop, he gasps for air like he’s drowning and Sebastian’s lips travel over his jaw, down his neck and back up to nibble on his ear. The rush and urgency is gone as Blaine tilts his head to give him more room and one of his own hands reaches down to grab one of Sebastian’s which squeezes back.

It's ridiculous what he’s feeling – he doesn’t even know the guy! But it feels so nice to let go for once, throw away the masks and the smiles and the practiced gestures and let soft lips travel over his skin, unwind him and make him a bit dizzy.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe Sebastian is just a fever dream or a ghost of New Year’s past or… or maybe by some unlikely constellation of stars some ethereal creature somewhere took pity on me and decided I deserved some happiness. Even if it only lasted one night, even if it was just a few hours of solace in the dark with a pretty boy…

“You’re thinking too loud”, Sebastian whispers into his ear and Blaine huffs a laugh. The other boy pulls back and straightens his back so that Blaine has to look up him. It’s too dark to make out the finer features of Sebastian’s face, the color of his eyes or if his cheeks are as flushed as Blaine can feel his own are but he does see the cheeky smile dancing on the other’s lips. His hand comes up to gently brush over Blaine’s kiss-swollen lips.

“Sooo…”, he drawls, his voice effectively silencing the voices yelling in Blaine’s head that his behavior is more than inappropriate, and he should get back inside immediately before he catches a cold, “what’s your story, Blaine?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, just enjoys that he can feel Sebastian’s breath on his face.

My story? He doesn’t know. It’s not what's continuously displayed on Page Six, not really, but what is it then? “What’s yours?”, he answers with a question and Sebastian chuckles. “I asked first.”

“But you said you asked around. So you already know something about me whereas I only know you can kiss me breathless.”

He opens his eyes again and grins. At that, Sebastian laughs and shakes his head. “Well, if it comforts you, no one shared that kind of knowledge with me beforehand.”

“Noone has that kind of knowledge”, he smiles, taken aback by the words that keep tumbling out of his mouth. He’s usually never that bold.

Sebastian grins. “Is that so? Well, lucky me…” He tilts his head, takes a step back and reaches out a hand. “Come with me.”

Blaine shakes his head and glances up the stairs. There’s a castle full of people and his mother probably wondering where he is. He should really get back… but he can’t bring himself to leave. Not when a part of him longs for a few more stolen moments alone. So instead of returning to his duties, he sighs and takes Sebastian’s hand. “Where to?”

“You’ll see…”

Sebastian pulls him further into the garden, turns left and right and right again. Blaine looses all sense of orientation after the first few turns and while usually giving up that much control to someone else would make him uneasy, with Sebastian it’s somehow different. He can’t really pinpoint why exactly because it’s true, it’s not like he knows him so well. Or, well.. at all. But Sebastian carries himself with a determination and security, it makes him feel sort of… safe? Maybe.

They round one more corner and in the dim moonlight, he spots a small table and a bench under a big oak that looks like it offered shade in the summer to more than one generation of royalty.

He feels himself be led to the bench where Sebastian sits down and pulls him with him. It’s brighter than under the stairs, the moon illuminating Sebastian’s face, and it’s also quieter, the music and laughter from the castle barely a murmur.

We are alone. Noone is here.

Blaine releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“You feeling better?” Sebastian’s voice is soft and he turns to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, just… you seemed a little tense back there.”

Blaine averts his eyes. “Well, I’m usually not making out with strangers under the stairs, so… yeah, I might’ve been a little worried someone might catch us.”

“What do you care? You’re young, you’re single. You’re out.” He shrugs. “It’s none of their business.”

At that, Blaine huffs. “Yeah, it’s not that easy, though.”

“Why? You’ve not been… promised to anyone, right?”

Blaine laughs. “It’s not the 16^th century, Sebastian. But no, my hand has not been promised in marriage when I was a toddler to secure an alliance with another kingdom.” He looks at Sebastian and his grin fades. “No, it’s just… my family’s been through enough lately. No need to cause a scandal for public indecency and add fuel to the fire.”

They are quiet for a few moments, then Sebastian speaks up. “If it’s any consolation, I think it’s ridiculous how obsessed people are with your private life. Well, not only yours per se but… you know. Royals. Like, how dare they scrutinize and judge everything you do?”

“We have a lot of privileges. It’s just the price we pay.”

Sebastian scrunches his nose. “A lot of people have privileges. Yet, you don’t see their family drama discussed on the front page.”

Blaine reaches his hand out and interlaces their fingers. He knows they are both right. It’s something Blaine struggled with a lot growing up, how the standard he was held to always seemed to be so much higher for him than for his friends at school, even when his father was still around. He knows Sebastian means well and he agrees to a certain extent – but it is what it is and while he hates how the public constantly sticks their noses into his business, he appreciates how he can use this interest in his life also to shine a light on causes dear to his heart, how he can be a role model.

“Let’s not talk about that anymore”, he smiles. “So, what is your story? I’ve never seen you before, I surely would remember that.”

So Sebastian tells him about how he just came back from the States where he finished college earlier this year, how his mother insisted on him spending the summer in France what turned into a gap-year of him trying to figure out what exactly he wants to do with his M.A. in international affairs and political science.

“Okay, let me get this right”, Blaine says, “You say you are, like, what? French royalty?”

Sebastian shrugs a shoulder. “Technically, yes. If there was a throne and a monarchy, I would be second in line. More or less. The French sort of, umm, abandoned their Royal Family a few hundred years ago, you know, so…”

Blaine snorts. “Abandoned? That’s one word for it – they beheaded them.”

“Well, not all of them. Us. I mean, I’m here, so some people survived. Anyway, enough about me”, he squeezes Blaine’s hand, “tell me about you.”

“Oh, my life is an open book”, he sighs, “Seriously, I mean it, I think there are about a dozen unofficial biographies.”

Sebastian huffs. “Fuck that. I want the truth. Wanna know what you like, what you laugh about, what excites you.” He smiles at him. “Come on, just tell me something no one else knows. Just one little secret…”

It’s like the cold suddenly creeps under his clothes and pulls him back into reality. What am I doing doing? I shouldn't trust him, I don't know this guy! He could be writing a book, could be a sleeper cell spy –

"Blaine?" Sebastian’s eyes narrow slightly. “Blaine, are you alright?”

He exhales shakily and suddenly feels dizzy. He shouldn’t, he really, really shouldn’t. His secrets are his for a reason, he cannot share them with anybody with a pretty smile. He looks at Sebastian who looks at him and something just comes over him, a sudden need to do just that. He wants to, badly, wants to whisper all his secrets into that boy’s ear, his hidden fears and burdens, let Sebastian carry them for a while. Make him care about his passions, make him care about...

Me. It's shocking to even think that, way too soon to long for it.

“Well”, Blaine says and clears his throat, “I, umm… I like music. I like singing and I… I play four instruments: Piano, violin, guitar and some drums. It really comes in handy when I’m visiting children’s hospitals or things like that, we always end up singing together. It’s nice, I like children.”

Sebastian just keeps looking at him.

“I mean, it’s heartbreaking, of course. Some of them, they are so sick, they can’t even get out of bed..." He smiles. ”But you should see their faces when we make music. You’re right, it’s annoying how everyone is constantly obsessed with my private life but on the other hand, I get to do this, I get to brighten days they have to spend in a hospital bed, I get to make a difference.”

Sebastian still watches, now with a small smile playing around his lips. More unconsciously that not, Blaine reaches out to stroke over Sebastian’s cheek and suddenly hears himself murmur: “I think if my job hadn’t literally been handed to me at birth, if I wasn’t forced to be a prince and nothing I could do could change it, that’s what I would want to do, you know? Just make art and help people, help children.”

The confession hangs heavy in the air and Blaine feels his heart thud in his ribcage. It’s not that big of secret, he knows, just a few weeks ago his mother made him turn what was supposed to be a small Christmas concert for the children’s hospital in Barcelona into a press event. People know that he likes doing these type of things.

Yet, he’s never been so honest about what he would be if he wasn’t a prince, never admitted that he even spent time thinking about it, maybe sometimes envies the life he doesn’t get to live. And now he admitted all that to a stranger just because… yeah, because what? Because he asked?

Maybe he should soften his words, take back a bit of the bitterness laced into them but he can’t. Not when all he can think about is that no one has ever looked at him like Sebastian looks at him. He gasps in surprise when Sebastian’s knuckles graze his cheek.

“I really like how much you care”, Sebastian whispers. He doesn’t have to, there’s no one here, still it feels appropriate. “I do… but who cares for you?”