Kurt makes his way through the back door of the club and I follow closely behind. We walk down hallway after hallway until we make it into the main room and I freeze, mouth open. It's better than I imagined; the stage, lights, a band playing instruments. There's a huge crowd of people watching, dancing, jumping and singing along. Others are sat at tables and drinking or talking or making out with their significant other – or maybe a stranger they met ten minutes ago but don't seem to give a damn. Even the staff have huge smiles on their faces, bopping to the beat and dancing behind the counter. I'm so in awe that I don't realise Kurt is shouting my name, I only pay attention when he grabs my arm and drags me in a different direction. My eyes stay on the surroundings.
"Sorry," I blush – I must look like an idiotic tourist right now.
"It's cool, I was exactly the same when I first came here." I nod in response, walking now instead of being dragged, but I stick close to his back as we make our way through a mass of bodies. I'm trying to manoeuvre my way past two women who are openly grounding on each other when I crash into Kurt, who has stopped moving.
"Sorry," I wince, blushing again but he only laughs.
"You seem to be saying that a lot tonight." My cheeks turn redder and I really don't want him to see me like this so I turn away.
I move to the side, trying to see what's happening and Kurt's talking to two guys. One has blonde hair that sweeps across his forehead and is tall and skinny, sitting on the counter of the bar. The other is a shorter brunette with way too much eyeliner on. I tune into the conversation and learn that these two guys own the bar.
"Nick, Jeff, I may have found you a replacement," they take a confused look to me, then back to Kurt.
"A replacement for what?" the blonde one asks, jumping down from the counter.
"For Vicky, who quit about... 2 hours ago, Jeff." Jeff – and Nick, as Kurt has mentioned – look surprised.
"Vicky quit." Nick repeats.
"Yes, she did. You know, Nick, as the manager of this place, you don't know a lot about it, do you?" Kurt smirks. They share a glance, then look to me again, Nick speaking.
"Yeah, no, he isn't her replacement." I look down at myself, wondering what's wrong with the way I look.
"What do you mean, no?" Kurt's voice is getting louder and I make a mental note to never get into an argument with him – I'm pretty sure I'll lose.
"I'm not hiring him! Look at him," Nick gestures to me, "I bet you lived a sweet, happy life, wherever the hell you came from. I bet mommy and daddy gave you everything your heart desired, I bet you were a jock in high school with a cheerleader girlfriend that you treated like a princess, didn't you Mr Popular?"
I blink once, twice. Is this how I come across? Because that is the furthest from correct you can get. It builds anger in me and I spit out a humourless laugh."Not quite," Nick looks at me, raised eyebrows and comes closer, stepping into my personal space.

"Tell me how it was then, Preppy."
"I came from Oklahoma. My parents died in a car crash when I was twelve and I was definitely not a jock. I was the weird kid, listening to rock music and I had a crappy job at a stupid coffee house that I hated." I say this in one breath, before adding, "Yeah, and the girlfriend? Way off."
Kurt's staring at me and I catch his eye for a moment.
Jeff moves a little beside Nick, "And why is that?"
I'm stuck for a minute, wondering if it's safe to admit this – I don't know these guys and what I say next could land me in a hospital bed.
"Because she wasn't a boy." There, it's out. I flinch instinctively, waiting for the pain that I'm so used to but I feel nothing. They're looking at me, smirks on their faces. Kurt's mouth is agape, not helping my confusion and I'm about to say something when Nick pats me on the shoulder.
"You're alright, kid. Take the job, just," he looks up to my hair, "get rid of the gel, will you?"
"Kurt, will you get him his gear, please? And let him know the schedule." Jeff follows where Nick had left and Kurt nods, mouth still open, slightly.
Did I just get a job because I told them I'm gay, or am I just imagining that just happened?
"That went well," Kurt comments.
"Tell me about it," I agree, "At least 'job hunt' is off the list." I draw a tick on my imaginary check list in the air.
"It is. Come on, I'll get you your uniform. You're on the same shifts as me, so you'll start tomorrow because I'm done for the day."
"Alright," We weave through the crowd, heading back down the corridors we first walked through. Kurt tells me the schedule, what is expected of me and to ask if I need any help. He hands me a pack of Bourbon t-shirts that I take with a "thanks."
"You don't, by any chance, know any motels around here?" I ask, hopeful, "with a room for, say, $5 a night?" I may be sleeping on the streets for a while. Or the bus station.
"Afraid not. What're you going to do?" I shrug.
"Find a comfy bench somewhere, probably," and he looks like he can't believe what I'm saying.

"Seriously?" I nod and he figures that I'm actually not kidding.
"No, that's not happening," Kurt shakes his head, "You're coming home with me."
My lips move into a smirk. "Being a little forward there, Kurt, aren't we? But, if you insist." I wiggle my eyebrows.
It's Kurt's time to blush and duck his head, which is adorable.
"I don't- I mean, I have a spare room. Rachel and I, we have a spare room. That you can have. If you want." My shoulders drop because of course, he's got a girlfriend. Look at him. Stupid Rachel, I haven't even met her but I can feel my dislike. It's silly, but there it is.
"Are you sure? I mean, your girlfriend won't mind?" A polite and honest expression is on my face because no matter my feelings, I was brought up with manners and what would my grandmother think if I was rude?

I didn't expect Kurt to laugh – not even a chuckle, or giggle but full stomach-clutching laughing.
He wipes the tears away from his eyes, "Oh god, you were being serious." I raise my eyebrow, clearly missing the joke.
"Um, yes?"
"Rachel isn't my girlfriend, she's my best friend." Oh. Maybe I will like Rachel, then.
"She plays the guitar in my band and does backup vocals. And she has too much boob for my liking." I'm trying to understand, then it clicks. Oh.

"You mean, you're?"
"Gay? Yes, just like you, Blaine," he teases. I colour a little, because now Kurt's extremely attractive and gay. And I'm going to be living with him.
I'm going to be living with him. Oh, this is not good. This won't end well. I'll try not to think about it too much, maybe it'll all be okay.
"Are you sure she won't mind? I can help pay for stuff when I start earning, I promise, and-"
"Blaine! Blaine, it's fine. Rachel and I have been in the same position, but we had each other. We understand and that's why Rachel won't mind at all," he looks behind me, "In fact, you can ask her yourself."
I turn and a small, dark haired girl carrying a guitar case moves to stand next to Kurt.
"Who's your new friend?"

"This, Rachel, is Blaine Anderson. Our new house mate." I offer a small wave, then I'm engulfed in a hug. She's on her toes, arms wrapped around me when she whispers into my ear.
"Welcome to Hollywood."