Kurt read and re-read the message in disbelief. Why, out of nowhere, would Blaine text him? It had to be a crude joke one of his old friends thought would be funny. He scowled at his phone and it took all his self control not to throw it off the balcony. Kurt wanted so badly to believe that it was Blaine, but whenever he fell for it he would be laughed at. He just wasn’t willing to get his hopes up to have them crushed once again. Kurt received another text ten minutes later.

Kurt? Is this still your number?

With a roll of his eyes, Kurt walked back into his apartment. He looked down at his coffee table once again, and with a sigh he decided to attempt to clean it up. As he tried to put the sheets back in order Kurt thought about where he was in life. He was on Broadway, and that wasn’t even the extent of it. He was popular on Broadway. Kurt looked at the bag of letters sitting on his counter. He had fans. Lots of them. Everything he ever wanted was in the palm of his hand, so why was he still worried about Blaine? Surely he had moved on to be successful in whatever he went to school for, so Kurt had no reason to worry. Just as he had gotten the last of the pages in order, his ringtone played loudly, making Kurt jump and drop them all again.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Kurt moaned, reaching for the phone on the couch behind him. The number was unlisted. “Who the hell?” He questioned as he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Kurt asked flatly.

“Kurt! So this is still your number!” Kurt froze, his eyes bulging and his mouth handing open. He suddenly felt breathless. “Kurt? You there?”

“...Blaine?” Kurt’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah! I told you it was me. Why didn’t you answer my texts?” Blaine sounded high on happiness.

“Why are you calling me?” Kurt’s voice sounded more cruel then he liked, and he winced at the sound of Blaine’s response, he sounded hurt.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

“No, Blaine! Hang on a sec,” Kurt said quickly, pressing the phone firmly against his ear, trying to hear Blaine’s beautiful voice as clearly as possible, “That’s not what I meant. I just... why after all this time?” A range of emotions overtook suddenly overtook Kurt, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to weep or scream.

“Well, I saw the poster for Grease. I just wanted to see if this was still your number,” there was a pause, “and to ask if there were any tickets available.”

“You’re coming to see it?” Kurt gasped.

“I figured it was about time.” An uncomfortable silence fell over them, then out of nowhere Blaine’s spoke, his voice quiet but serious, “I’ve missed you, Kurt.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Kurt blurted before thinking. Sure, it was true that he missed Blaine, but Kurt wasn’t sure if he wanted Blaine to know just how much. Silence fell over them again, and this time it was Kurt’s turn to speak. “How come you’ve never came to any of my shows?”

Kurt heard Blaine sigh on the other end of the phone... wherever that was. “I live quite far away, Kurt. Flying to New York wasn’t in my budget. Neither was a ticket to your show, for that matter.”

“But it is now?” Kurt asked defensively.

“No, actually, it isn’t. I’m not sure how I’m going to swing it.”

“Oh,” Kurt chewed the inside of his lip, an old habit he thought he had gotten rid of years ago, “Well, I mean... if you can’t afford it then don’t come. I don’t want you going broke just to see me sing. I did sing for you back at Dalton for free, and I still sound the same more or less.”

“No, you’ve grown up, Kurt.” Blaine said simply, but it made Kurt’s heart flutter. “Plus, I want to see you on stage living your dream.”

“Yeah,” Kurt scoffed, “my dream.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Blaine furrowed his brow. Kurt’s tone of voice made it sound like he wanted to be doing something, anything, else with his life. Much to Blaine’s surprise, it annoyed him. His Kurt would never want anything more then to be on Broadway. “You don’t sound too happy,” he spat the words out, his voice bitter, “for someone who has everything.”

“You think I have everything?” Kurt demanded, “Blaine you have no idea what my life is like here.”

“I know you’re better off than a student trying to get through university on minimum wage.”

“Oh, please. Your family is loaded,” Kurt laughed bitterly and Blaine’s anger boiled over. This was not his Kurt!

“Yeah, they are. Too bad they’ve practically disowned me.”

“What?”

“My dad reached his boiling point five years ago. Apparently he came to get me that night we were lying on the lawn outside of the Windsor dorm, if you remember—“

“—oh, I do,”

“Yeah, well, when I got home that afternoon my bags were packed and my father had left a note telling me I was no longer a part of his family. At least, not until I was successful.”
“Oh, Blaine!” Kurt sobbed. The sympathy in Kurt’s voice made Blaine want to break down and tell the boy how much he still felt for him, but he held back, simply letting out a long sigh. “Blaine, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever, it’s no big deal. Look, just... just save a seat for me okay? I’ll find a way to afford it.”

“No.” Kurt responded firmly, “The tickets to my shows are ridiculously expensive. There is no way I’m letting you pay that price to see me on a stage with a bunch of sweaty people. Just get to New York, I’ll figure the rest out.”

The line went dead and Blaine gaped at the phone in his hands. It had hit him that he had finally talked to Kurt... they had finally had a proper conversation after three years of nothing. Kurt seemed so different, though. He seemed tired, worn out maybe, but defiantly sad.

Blaine wandered over to his old computer, pressing the power button and sitting down heavily on the hard chair in front of his desk. It took ten minutes for his dinosaur of a computer to start up and yet another five for the internet to connect. He typed in the airline he always flew with, entering in the information they asked for. Blaine waited patiently for the page to load, and when it did his eyes bulged as he stared at the price of a one way trip to New York.

“Jesus,” he cursed. How could the cheapest flight still be $500? More importantly, how the hell was he going to be able to afford this?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Kurt walked over to the phone that sat atop his kitchen counter, pressing one and holding the speaker to his ear.

“Yes, Mr. Hummel?” The man asked.

“I need you to reserve a front row ticket to one of my shows. I don’t care how you do it; bribe people with backstage passes if you must. Just get me that seat. Oh, and I’ll need you to arrange a car to pick of a friend of mine from the airport when he arrives. He’ll be staying with me for the time being.”

“When will this friend be arriving, sir?”

“No idea. I’ll call you when I know.”