Kurt groaned and rolled over, trying to block the bright light from shining directly onto his face. He rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the headache he had – Why did his head hurt so badly? – Before finally sitting up. Wait… this isn’t my room, he thought. Where am I? He looked around the room, trying to take everything in. Is this some prank Blaine is playing on me for being such a jerk to him? Kurt wondered. I really need to apologize. He took in the room, noticing a huge walk-in closet and a closed bathroom door. Through it, he could hear a shower running. I’d better leave before they come out and see some weird teenage kid in their bed.  Kurt got up quickly, put on some slippers, and ran out of the bedroom into a long hallway. He took a few steps and glanced into a mirror as he walked past it, then froze. “Holy shit!” he yelled. He stared into his reflection, touching his face, running his fingers through his hair. His face was thin, cheekbones high and prominent on his face. His hair, though sleep mussed, was obviously stylishly cut. He ran his hands up his arms, feeling slight muscles underneath his pale, smooth skin. “Is that me?” He looked into his eyes, finding the same strange color he’d always known. “I look… I’m an adult?” He wandered into the living room, picking up the stack of mail on the table and reading the address. “New York? Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel, Kurt Hummel… I live here,” he said in awe. He placed the mail back on the table and looked around the – his – apartment. He noticed a phone thrown haphazardly on the couch and picked it up. “I hope this is mine,” he stated, before dialing his father’s number and walking into the kitchen.

            The phone rang once before he heard his father’s voice. “Hello!”

            “Dad!” Kurt exclaimed.  “Dad, there’s something weird going on, I-“

            “You’ve reached the Hummel-Hudsons!” Burt Hummel’s voice continued. Kurt could hear a strange woman’s laughter in the background. Hudson? As in Finn Hudson?  He wondered. And who is that woman?  “We’d say we’re sorry we missed ya, but since we’re in Hawaii, we’re not! Leave us a message!”

            Kurt heard the beep, then said “You went to Hawaii without me?” and disconnected the call. Obviously his father wasn’t going to be any help; he was on his own. “Okay Hummel, think. What do you do in this situation?” He sank into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and placed his head in his hands, confused and overwhelmed.

            “Morning, beautiful.”

            Kurt froze. He didn’t recognize that voice. It was obviously a man, maybe his roommate? He looked up slowly through his fingers, just in time to see the very naked, very attractive stranger sit down at the table and pour himself a bowl of cereal.  Kurt took in the stranger slowly, from his short brown hair, to his green eyes, his muscular chest, and stopped, blushing furiously. The man smiled at Kurt through a mouthful of granola and winked. “Like what you see?”

            Kurt raised an eyebrow. “I don’t even know your name and you’re flirting with me?” And your naked ass is in my chair. Disgusting, he finished in his head.

            “Playing hard to get, beautiful?” The man smirked at Kurt before downing the last of his breakfast and standing to place the bowl in the sink. He kissed Kurt on the cheek before walking into the bedroom. “Maybe you can come in here and I’ll show you something really hard.”

            “Oh God,” Kurt muttered. He grabbed his cell phone and bolted for the front door, grabbing a set of keys off the hook as he walked out. He got into the first elevator he saw and pressed the button to the ground floor, unsure of where he was going. As the elevator opened, a pretty blonde with a short bob turned to face him.

            “Kurt, there you are! I was beginning to think I’d have to come into that sex dungeon you call an apartment and drag you out by your overly tall hair. And why do you look like you just rolled out of bed? You know today we have our meeting with Isabelle and you’re in pajamas and totally unstyled. Don’t worry, we’ll fix you up at the office but right now we have to GO.” She shoved a coffee into his hand and pulled him across the lobby and out the door.

            “Wait. Quinn?” She shoved him unceremoniously into a town car before climbing in after him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

            “You know, Porcelain, you’re absolutely right. Why am I being so nice to you after you ditched me at that totally heinous bar last night and almost let me take that guy with the blonde hair and the overly large mouth home? I swear, if we hadn’t been best friends since forever I’d probably never speak to you again.”

            “Quinn, are we really best friends?”

            “Seriously Kurt, what is wrong with you? Did Brody drug you last night before taking you home to ravish you?”
            “Brody?”

            “That gorgeous model you snagged at the shoot three weeks ago and haven’t gotten rid of yet? Oh my GOD, you slept with somebody new last night, you slut!”

            “No! No, I didn’t, I swear,” Kurt stammered. His head was reeling with all the new information that was being thrown at him, and he sat in silence for the rest of the car ride. As Quinn pulled him out of the back of the car, he looked at the building looming in front of him. “We work at VOGUE? No way!”

            Quinn rolled her eyes and held the door open. “After you, Your Highness. And hurry up! We still have to get you dressed and ready for the meeting, which is in less than fifteen minutes.” Kurt walked into the foyer. He gasped loudly; it was beautiful. He tried to take in as much as possible before Quinn pushed he roughly into the elevator: The beautiful cream on the walls with simple VOGUE plaque, the gorgeous white furniture, and the large reception desk with a petite brunette wearing a headset.  “Stop staring, Kurt. You act like you’ve never seen Sugar work before. Which, come to think of it,” she pursed her lips “stare away.” She hit the button to the fifteenth floor, stepping back as the door closed.  “I cannot believe how little you’re giving me to work with this morning, K. Did you even brush your teeth?” She pushed out of the elevator, dragging Kurt behind her as she continued. “I swear if you hadn’t helped me out when I had that massive hangover last week you’d be totally on your own.” She stopped in front of a closed office door. “You do have your keys, right? I’d hate to call one of the maintenance staff up here.”

            Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, turning to the door. Before he could open it however, he saw the plaque. He reached out slowly, running his fingers over the engraved letters. “Kurt Hummel, Executive Editor?” he breathed. “I’m the executive editor of the most famous fashion magazine in the world!”

            “Yeah, yeah, quit bragging.” Quinn snatched the keys out of his hand and opened the door. “Now go sit in your cushy office chair while I pick out an outfit for you. We have to get to the conference room in five minutes and you’ve been wasting time all morning.”

Kurt left the office wearing a simple high collared white button down, a black and grey cardigan, and a pair of skinny tawny pants. He had on a pair of designer white combat boots, and his hair was elegantly swooped up on his head. He looked amazing, and he would have picked the same outfit for himself that Quinn had thrown together. They turned into the conference room, and Kurt stopped. Where was he supposed to sit? Did it matter? “Shit,” he whispered. Quinn sighed haughtily and pointed him towards a chair, taking her seat on the other side of the table.

“Alright people! Let’s get this meeting started!” Kurt looked up at the woman standing at the head of the table, a tall blonde with slightly curly hair and a thin frame. “We need ideas for our winter issue, and if I hear the word ‘wonderland’ heads will roll. Let’s get started!” Kurt sat in silence as ideas bounced back and forth, the editor-in-chief shooting down each one with a slight shake of her head or pursing of her lips. She glanced at him, winking and half shrugging her shoulders. Was he supposed to know what that meant? What did that mean? “Kurt, honey. You’ve been quiet this whole time. No snark for us this morning? None of your brilliant ideas?

The room got quiet as everybody stared at Kurt. “Um, I-“ he started. What do I say? What do I do? He looked to Quinn helplessly.

“Isabelle, Kurt’s not really in his right state of mind today. I think he overexerted himself with that hot piece of ass that’s been sucking down all the Raisin Bran in New York last night.”

“Apparently that’s not the only thing he’s been sucking down,” snickered a brunette in the corner. Kurt stared at her a moment, trying to place her face. She waggled her fingers at him and blew him a kiss. “Don’t tell me you forgot about me, too, Porcelain. I’d be so hurt if you didn’t remember your favorite lesbian.”

“Of course I remember you, Santana. I’m just not sure why you’re so interested in my sex life when I’ve heard that your own has been quite eventful the past week. Maybe you’ve just been making the rumors up yourself and you’re really not getting any at all?” He smirked as Santana narrowed her eyes at him, wondering where the comeback came from. He’d never said anything mean to anybody before. Was this really who he was?

“Alright, children,” Isabelle called. “Enough. We’re gonna have to start this all over again tomorrow; I have another meeting with a prospective advertiser starting in ten. Bring your best ideas and leave the bitchy attitudes in your offices, got it? Now back to work.”

Kurt slowly walked back to his office and plopped down behind the desk, head in his hands. “What is happening to me?” he moaned. He sat up as an idea popped into his head. Blaine. Blaine might be able to explain all of this to him. He scrolled through his phone contacts, searching for Blaine Anderson, and found nothing. Why don’t I have Blaine’s number?  he wondered. “Well Blaine, I sure hope you live in New York City.” He did a quick Google search, looking up Blaine Anderson + New York City, and then entering in a zip code just to narrow the search down. He found one and printed the address, then got up and walked out of his office, locking the door behind him. He pressed the down button to open the elevator.

“Where ya headed, Princess? Hot date?” Santana walked up behind him, stepping into the elevator before Kurt had even realized the doors were open.

“Actually, I’m just… I’m heading out. I’m not feeling well and I wanted to, uh, grab some Vicks and some soup,” he finished lamely.

Santana laughed. “Vicks ain’t gonna cure a hangover, Porcelain. You need something a little stronger than that.” She exited on the ninth floor, waving over her shoulder as she strutted out. “Feel better, honey!”

When he finally got to the lobby, he walked up to the reception desk. “Hi, um, Sugar?”

“Oh!” Sugar jumped, turning to face him. “Mr. Hummel, sir, what can I do for you today?” She played the papers on her desk, straightening and rearranging them. It was obvious Kurt made her nervous, but why?

“Could you maybe call a towncar for me? Please?”

“Of course sir, I’ll get right on it.” Sugar’s fingers flew over the number pad on the phone, and she spoke briskly into the headset. “I need a towncar for Mr. Hummel immediately.” She relayed the address and hung up. “I’m sorry for taking so long with the phone call sir. A car will be here shortly.”

“Thank you.”

Sugar squeaked, surprised. “You-You’re welcome?”

“Sugar, have I never said thank you before?”

“No sir, but I don’t expect you to sir. I mean, I don’t need to be thanked for doing my job. I mean, if I would like to go anywhere in this company I have to start at the bottom.” She sounded like she was parroting lines that had been spoken to her dozens of times. Kurt just hoped that it wasn’t him saying them. He walked outside to wait on his car, feeling uneasy about the poor girl sitting behind the reception desk and even more confused about what kind of person he was now.

“Mr. Hummel? I’ll be your driver today, sir. Where to?” The driver opened the door for Kurt as Kurt wordlessly handed him the piece of paper with the address. “Yes sir, I’ll take you right there.”

They pulled up in front of a row of townhouses, homey and comfortable looking. Kurt found the number he was looking for and asked the driver to wait until he came back out. He thanked him when the driver nodded that he would wait, and received another odd look after thanking the driver. Wow, I must be really rude, Kurt thought as he rang the doorbell.

“Just a minute!” He heard a voice yell. “I’m coming, I’ll be right there!”

Kurt could feel his heart pounding as he waited. He heard thundering footsteps, the click of a lock, and then the door was opening. He saw a pair of plain black shoes, grey slacks, a striped pullover over a collared shirt, and a grey bowtie. He smiled. His best friend still hadn’t grown out of those? He finally looked at the man’s face and his mouth opened slightly. Blaine had grown into his features. He still had the same beautiful honey-hazel eyes, but he had a slight stubble on his chin. He’d let his curls grow out some and was using just a small amount of gel to keep them styled. As the two men took each other in, Kurt realized what was so different about Blaine: He wasn’t smiling. Blaine always had a smile. “Hi, Blaine,” he said nervously.

“Kurt.”