Kurt sat in stunned silence in the back of the towncar. How could I have messed things up so badly? Is this the price I get to pay for being popular? I lost my best friend."
         “Mr. Hummel? Where to sir?”
            Kurt glanced wistfully at the window of Blaine’s home, hoping to see a curtain move, anything that would let him know Blaine was still looking out for him. When he saw nothing, he sighed. “Just take me home please.” As the car moved through the roads, Kurt tried to take in the city. He always knew he’d end up in New York, but not knowing exactly how he got here kind of stung. He sighed again as the driver pulled up to his building and reluctantly got out of the car. He let himself into the building, took the elevator up to his floor, and walked the short hallway, where Quinn stood in front of his door.
            “Kurt, what the hell? You just leave in the middle of work to go on a drive through the city and don’t let anybody know what you’re doing? I had to find out from Santana that you’d even left the building! You’re so lucky I covered for you. Isabelle would’ve birthed a farm animal if she’d known! Our issue is due out in three weeks! Are you insane?”
            “Give it a rest, Quinn. You obviously did fine without me,” he pushed past his melodramatic best friend to let himself into the apartment, intending on keeping Quinn out. To his dismay, she followed him, still going on about what a horrible best friend he was being, and why couldn’t he just listen to everything she was saying to him? He tuned her out as he walked through his kitchen to open a bottle of sparkling water, still thinking about Blaine. He’d have to find a way to make things right. Then maybe he could go back to being thirteen again and start all over. A plan slowly formulated in his mind…
            “KURT! Have you even been listening to me this entire time?” Quinn stood in his kitchen with her hands on her hips. “What is going on with you today, Porcelain?”
            “Why do you and Santana keep calling me that?”
            “Calling you what?”
            “Porcelain.”
            “Oh my God, you really were high last night. You know Coach Sue gave you that nickname; we all had them. Santana became Sandbags after she got that boob job our junior year, and I was Q because I was always her favorite. Well, until you came along. Perfect little Kurt, with his beautiful backflips and porcelain skin. Porcelain. Get it?”
            “Oh. Of course I remember that,” Kurt lied. The Cheerios coach was nice to him? All he remembered was the bitter old blonde woman who stormed through the halls and yelled at anybody who crossed her path.
            Quinn rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Don’t forget about our photoshoot meeting tomorrow. We have to come up with an idea that Isabelle is gonna be over the moon about. And please, no crazy pills tonight?” She sauntered out the front door, waving over her shoulder and yelling one last “Bye, Porcelain!” before letting it slam shut behind her.
            “Ugh,” Kurt groaned. He still didn’t understand how he and Quinn became best friends. She was exhausting. He sat at the kitchen table, once again overwhelmed by the events of the day. As Kurt looked around his apartment, he started feeling anxious. I don’t know how to be an adult,” he thought. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his keys and walking out of the apartment again. He took the elevator back down to the lobby, ran out the front door, and began walking down the street. He had no clue where he was going, but he couldn’t just sit anymore.

            Twenty minutes later, Kurt found himself standing in front of a small coffee shop. He opened the door, breathing in the aroma of freshly baked muffins and roasted coffee beans. As he approached the counter, he realized there was a small stage to the left of the door with a sign that stated Open Mic Night above it. Deciding to settle in and clear his head, he turned to the barista… Who immediately handed him a cup of coffee and a muffin.
            “I figured you’d want your usual, sir. No charge tonight, since it’s the first open mic you’ve come to!” The barista smiled at Kurt warmly. “Hope you enjoy the show!”
            Kurt took a seat in front of the stage, slightly shocked. Maybe I’m not so mean to everybody as I think I am,” he wondered. He smiled to himself and took a sip of the drink, the rich flavor of chocolate and the bitterness of coffee hitting his tongue. This… He had no idea what it was, but this was the best combination of flavors he’d ever had. He sat and watched the performers, enjoying some, wrinkling his nose at others, when eventually, the deejay called the closing act to the stage.

            He was wearing black loafers with no socks, red pants, and a fitted black polo, complete with a tricolor bowtie. He finished setting up a keyboard, and came to the mic. “Uh, hello,” he started. “My name is Blaine Anderson, and I’ll only be performing one song for you all tonight.” There was a groan from the crowd; Blaine was apparently a favorite performer. He smiled shyly and continued. “I’m sorry, I’ve been pretty busy this week and haven’t had time to prepare much.” He cleared his throat and moved to sit behind the keyboard, adjusting the microphone so it sat level with his face. He began playing, looping over the first few chords as he spoke. “This is a cover of a pretty old song, but it’s always been one of my favorites.”

“Before you met me
               I was alright but things
               Were kinda heavy
               You brought me to life
               Now every February
               You’ll be my Valentine
               Valentine”

Kurt grinned. Of course Blaine would pick this song. He had a huge Katy Perry obsession when he was younger, at least while we were friends, and this song seemed to have been his anthem.

“You make me
               Feel like I’m living a
              Teenage Dream
              The way you turn me on”

He didn’t know Blaine could sing so well though, and when had he learned how to play piano?

“I’ma get your heart racing
In my skintight jeans
Be your teenage dream tonight”

Kurt let the other man’s incredible voice wash over him, drinking in the lyrics of the fun, yet heartfelt song.

“Let you put your hands on me
              In my skintight jeans
              Be your teenage dream tonight”

Kurt applauded just as loudly as the rest of the crowd as Blaine stood up and took a slight bow. As Blaine stood back up, he caught Kurt’s eye, the smile slipping from his face as he turned to walk off the stage. “Blaine!” Kurt yelled, following him out the door.

              “Blaine!”

              “What, Kurt?” Blaine rounded on Kurt angrily. “What do you want? Why are you even here?”
            “I-I just,” Kurt started, unsure of what to say. “You sang beautifully. I just wanted to let you know.”

Blaine rubbed his face with his hands, sighing. “Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed the song.”

They stood awkwardly, staring at each other, not quite knowing where to go from there. Hesitantly, Kurt spoke. “Blaine? I know we’re not friends anymore, but would you just walk with me?”

Blaine shook his head, ready to deny the favor Kurt was asking of him, but something about the look on Kurt’s face reminded Blaine of the boy he used to know. “Okay,” he acquiesced. He fell into step next to Kurt silently, waiting for the other man to speak first.

“You have a really amazing voice, Blaine. I never knew you could sing like that,” Kurt stated nervously. It was obvious Blaine was uncomfortable with him, but he couldn’t quite understand why. “And when did you learn to play piano?”

Blaine blinked, surprised. Kurt Hummel was never interested in anybody but himself. Why all the questions now? “Um,” Blaine cleared his throat before continuing. “I’d always sang in the shower, but I never really felt like I had a voice. After we’d stopped being… friends, I threw myself into music. I started taking piano lessons and joined the Glee club at McKinley. When I transferred to Dalton, I joined the Warblers there and eventually was voted lead soloist.”

“What happened to your camera?”

“I didn’t think you’d remember that.” Blaine smiled slightly, his lips quirking up at the edges but not quite reaching the rest of his face. “Photography reminded me too much of our friendship. You were my best subject, after all. I did pick it back up again, and it’s kind of my career now until I can break into the music industry. It’s not my true passion anymore, but it pays the bills.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’d had since youth, and glanced at Kurt. “Why the sudden interest?”

Kurt sighed, rubbing his eyes as if to keep tears from falling. “I just- I don’t know where I went wrong or what happened to me.  I’m so mean now. It seems like I’m in such a bad mood all the time, and my receptionist is scared of me, and I should be so excited to be working at Vogue but I have no idea what I’m doing, and the one person who I would ask for help probably wants nothing to do with me.” He looked at Blaine, a watery smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I sound like I should be throwing myself a pity party. I’m sorry for dumping this all on you. It’s been a rough day.”

Blaine tentatively reached for Kurt’s hand before pulling back. They weren’t that close anymore, no matter how much this Kurt sounded like his former best friend. Blaine rubbed the back of his neck again and shook his head slightly. “You know Kurt, it’s never too late to change. If you don’t like the way you are, then start acting differently. It might surprise you how good it feels to just be… nice.” He patted Kurt awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Blaine,” Kurt sniffed. He grinned a little, unsure, but feeling that maybe his friendship with Blaine had a chance of being repaired after all. “Um, are you hungry or anything? I know I kind of ran you out of the coffee shop earlier. Did you want to get pizza? Maybe ice cream?”

Blaine hesitated. “Kurt, I don’t-“

“Blaine!” another voice called. A tall man with dark hair and brown eyes waved and jogged toward them. “There you are! I looked for you at the coffee shop, but the barista told me you’d left right after your performance.” Kurt studied this other man carefully, taking in his fitted blazer, dark blue button down, and skinny tie. His jaw dropped slightly as the stranger leaned in and kissed Blaine on the cheek. “Is everything okay?” the man asked, finally taking notice of Kurt. His eyes narrowed slightly and he grabbed Blaine’s hand, almost possessively.

“Everything’s fine,” Blaine replied, looking slightly flustered. “Kurt, uh, this is Sebastian Smythe. My fiancé.”