Chapter 1

The door to the poky apartment creaked open before Kurt. The last slanting rays of August sun managed to sneak in between the buildings of Brooklyn and through the soiled windows. He was growing accustomed to the idea of living in an apartment instead of the noisy over-crowded dorm he had to share a room at last year. He had no desire of repeating the experience of having a sexually hyperactive roommate, especially considering that it usually meant Kurt had to bear listening to the distinct sounds of porn movies, that seeped through his headphones, no matter how much he turned the volume up.

Another perk of being out of the dorm was having slightly more to say décor-wise. The apartment was freshly painted and the chemical smell persisted in the air. The walls of the main room – which was separated from the kitchen only by a high counter with a couple of slightly wobbly bar chairs beside it – were aubergine, while all the cupboards in the room and kitchen Kurt had repainted with a silvery grey furniture enamel. The old couch and armchair that stood in the room probably since before the last tenant moved in (or even before the previous one had), were now covered by matching duvets Kurt found in some amazingly cheap furnishing shop, when he was out investigating his new neighbourhood. The duvets were light lilac with black Art Nouveau-style motifs printed on them.

Kurt’s bedroom – which he had picked, without waiting for Rachel to choose her own room – he had painted in two colours: two walls were ecru, and the other two were deep scarlet. Perfect, adult, but subtle. Valuing highly the benefits of getting plenty of sleep – it did miracles for his complexion, though, granted, not for his hair – he had talked his dad into getting him an insanely broad and comfortable bed. The bed frame was cast iron and black, very classy. Burt had been slightly concerned about the breadth of this particular piece of furniture, since it brought to his mind all kinds of images unwelcome to any parent of a college student living on their own. But he had tried (not entirely successfully) to hide his worries from his son.

A desk, a bookcase and a wardrobe – another item probably too big for the apartment – took up most of the remaining space of Kurt’s room. But it didn’t matter that he had a limited living space – it was still more than at the dorm. And he was to share this hole with his best friend in the entire world.

Rachel requested to have her room painted gold, but no matter how hard Kurt tried, he could simply find no paint that would be gold and not look horribly cheesy. When he had broken the news to his friend, she’d sighed with disappointment and ordered yellow walls and “something with gold stars on it”. Kurt had had no idea what she meant by “something”, so he picked a dark blue lamp shade with small printed golden stars, as well as a gold star-shaped cushion that rested on an armchair that had already been shipped from Lima to her new room, along with some smaller elements of furniture, curtains, books, clothes and kitchen utensils.

Kurt closed the door behind him and dropped the bags of cleaning equipment. He had two more days before Rachel’s arrival. She was spending the last two weeks of August in Florida with her dads. It was supposed to be the “last Berry family vacation before their little Rachel is all grown-up and at college”. It was also supposed to be the beginning of a non-mopey, moving-on Rachel. A chief part of the previous fourteen months she had spent depressed over Finn breaking up with her to join the Army (“The Army! The freaking Army, Kurt! What is he even thinking?! He’s so ungainly, he’s probably going to shoot off his own foot the first moment he’s handed a gun!”), and calling Kurt at all hours to cry into her pink gleaming cell phone, as he patiently listened to her sobs. When Rachel hadn’t been mourning the love of her life leaving her, she had been preparing to audition for NYADA once more. She had decided there was no way in hell she’d choke again, and in the end – having discussed her choice of song with Kurt a zillion times and changed her mind twice as many times – she did not choke. She apparently was “one of the few people who could capture the heartbreak described by On My Own, without a shade of a false note”. Mr Schue had told her after the audition (he had been lurking in the wings of the McKinley auditorium) that she’d been great when she was trying out for glee club, but that performance was just perfect and nothing less. Obviously, his words could not ease her impatience when she was later waiting for her letter from NYADA, but it was still nice to hear them.

And finally, in June, the letter came, announcing that she’d be joining her best friend in their dream school. That also meant that they would be a year apart, her a freshman, and him a sophomore, but they’d be together in New York at long last.

Kurt went back to Lima for the summer vacation, with the intention of spending some time with his dad and Carole, but as Burt was frequently in D.C. on Congress business, a good chunk of what was supposed to be family time changed into friend time. Or rather Rachel time (as he barely got the chance to meet his other glee club friends). She had to hear everything about NYADA. Every single detail there was to know. So he told her. But then she had to hear it again, and again… The first few times he had answered patiently, but after some five or six times he got frustrated and told her to wait and see. She got slightly offended. Still, she called two days later to ask if he wanted to maybe practice some numbers from Wicked, for the fun of it. It was “their” show, after all.

At some point, Kurt even met up with Chandler, but the coffee they had at the Bean was awfully awkward and he decided to avoid his ex-boyfriend as much as he could in the future. With Chandler studying at Parsons it was, however, a little more difficult, than if he was stuck in Ohio. But Kurt kept repeating to himself that “NYC is big enough for us not the cross paths.”

It’s not that he didn’t like Chandler. He did, he really did. His enthusiastic demeanour and the numerous things they had in common had always drawn Kurt to Chandler. And the compliments, oh, of course, so had the compliments. But despite all that, Kurt had felt almost from the very beginning that relationship was never meant to last. After they’d split up, some two months into the previous academic year – when Kurt was already at NYADA, and Chandler still stuck in Ohio, after failing to get into his dream school, NYU – Kurt concluded that maybe they were a little bit too similar in some way, and that made them incompatible.

And then Rachel went to Florida with her dads, excited to go to Disneyworld for the second time in her life (to “relive the experience”), and Kurt flew to New York to set up the apartment. Since then it had all been paints and brushes, and décor shops, and cleaning. He was pretty exhausted. Cleaning would have to wait until tomorrow.

He laid down on the couch and drifted off to sleep, without even taking his clothes off. This is how exhausted Kurt Hummel was.

***

Blaine had arrived at his dorm exactly three days before the Fall semester was to start at NYADA. His parents had made sure he was settled in, safe and content, they kissed and hugged him goodbye, and left for their plane back to Ohio. He was a tiny bit disappointed their work schedules didn’t let them stay for even a day more. But that also meant he had a day more of getting used to being alone in the city, before the craziness of college started.

He woke up in the morning, the first time he ever woke up in New York, in an almost empty building. Most students were probably still on their way to college for the new semester. Blaine decided to unpack all his stuff before his roommate gets to the dorm and into his way. He still felt uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a room with anyone, not to mention someone he’d never even laid his eyes on. He was only keeping his fingers crossed that someone would be a bearable cohabitant.

The thought of being in New York and starting NYADA was still surreal for Blaine. He barely resisted the urge to pinch himself every two minutes. Him, the seemingly confident, somewhat awkward weirdo with too much gel in his hair, him, Blaine Anderson from Kenton, Ohio, to be studying at the best musical theatre college in the whole of US? He couldn’t feel any different than as if he was living an intently vivid dream, from which he could sadly wake up any second.

He didn’t take many things with him, just a couple of suitcases of clothes and books, and his laptop to stay in touch with his parents (they were far more keen on doing that than him, though). Blaine would have loved taking more clothes, but decided he didn’t want to stand out too much. Sure, this was no longer Ohio, and probably no one would care about him being gay, especially at NYADA (isn’t loving musical theatre part of the gay man stereotype, after all?). Still, he didn’t want to be too obvious. He couldn’t resist, however, taking some bow-ties from his vast collection with him.

Blaine was halfway through stuffing his clothes into the wardrobe on the right-hand side of the room, which he chose for himself using the absence of his future roommate, when he heard some bustle coming from the corridor. Someone was walking down the hallway, dragging a suitcase on the floor and banging with their hand on the wood paneling of the walls. Blaine only hoped to himself that wasn’t his roommate.

When the door opened a few seconds later, only one word came to Blaine’s mind in response.

‘Fuck.’

‘The name’s actually Trent, but you couldn’t have known that,’ said the guy behind him.

Blaine turned around embarrassed. The boy was tall – or at least relatively tall when compared with Blaine – with light brown hair that fell on his eyes. He was chewing a gum without closing his mouth properly in the process. Yuck. He only had one scuffed suitcase and a backpack with him.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Blaine awkwardly. ‘I’m Blaine.’

‘It’s cool, bro.’ He threw his backpack vaguely in the direction of his part of the room and left his suitcase in the very centre of it. Then he flopped onto his bed, appraising Blaine with his eyes. ‘You have some funny hair, dude.’

For some reason Blaine resented being called bro or dude by someone he’d met no more than a minute earlier, especially someone who didn’t seem particularly friendly to him. Someone who made fun of his hair. It was a sure way to get on Blaine’s nerves.

‘So- Didn’t your parents drive you or something?,’ asked Blaine, trying to be nice and welcoming to Trent.

The other boy just laughed.

‘You kiddin’? Nah, I came alone. They don’t really care that much about my college.’

‘Why?’

Trent snickered.

‘’Cause they think it’s a waste of time. That if I want to be an actor I should go to LA, and not to some fancy-ass musical theatre college in NYC,’ he said mockingly.

‘Oh, I see.’

The conversation died naturally. Blaine felt slightly uncomfortable with what he had heard and didn’t want to pursue the topic. He carried on arranging his things, while Trent laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling, apparently feeling no need to take care of his own luggage.

When Blaine ran out of things to do in his dorm, he decided on a little exploratory trip around Manhattan. Without a hint of guilt, he left Trent in the room and directed his steps out of the building.

***

The day before the Fall semester was starting at NYADA, Kurt went to La Guardia to pick up Rachel and her dads. They had returned to Lima for a day to gather all of Rachel’s belongings that were absolutely indispensable for her and got on a plane for New York earlier that morning. LeRoy and Hiram were too eager to see Kurt and Rachel’s apartment to be talked into letting their daughter go on her own. And of course, she was their little girl, how could they let her go off to college alone? They had to make sure she had a roof over her head, that she was safe and happy.

The moment Rachel spotted Kurt from the line at the airport, she started waving at him enthusiastically. He raised his hand in greeting, smiling patronizingly. When she finally managed to get to him, she pulled him into a rib-crushing cuddle.

‘I missed you so much, Kurt,’ she said into his chest.

‘Yeah, I missed you, too.’

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes over her head, seeing Mr Berrys approaching with smiles on their faces.

‘Hi, Kurt. How’s the city?,’ asked LeRoy, extending his hand for Kurt to shake.

‘Amazing, as always,’ he said, grinning. ‘ How was your flight?’

‘Oh, fine,’ cut in Rachel. ‘Let’s go to our apartment, pleeeeeeaaaaaase.’

She made a sad puppy face. There could be no discussion.

They grabbed Rachel’s suitcases from the baggage carousel and caught a cab. By some miracle only, they managed to squeeze all of her things into the trunk.

When they clambered out of the cab at the feet of their building, Mr Berrys’ faces showed a tinge of discontentment.

‘Is this the place?,” Hiram asked, looking around.

‘Oh my God, this is perfect!,’ squealed Rachel, visibly pleased. ‘This is just how I’ve imagined Brooklyn!’

‘To be precise, this is Greenpoint,’ clarified Kurt, when a couple of (apparently new) immigrants passed them and a strange word – that he’d heard a few times before since moving to Greenpoint – reached his ears in the flow of their conversation. It sounded like coorvah. Kurt suspected it was Polish for something ordinary, as it seemed to be an awfully popular lexical item in a district with a big Polish American population.

Hiram and LeRoy each carried an enormous suitcase, while Rachel and Kurt took two smaller ones and Kurt led them upstairs, to the third storey. He unlocked the door and pushed it open wide to let the rest in first.

‘Kurt! This is amazing!,’ shouted Rachel, beaming.

Mr Berrys looked at each other to coordinate facial expressions.

‘Well, that’s true, it looked rather inconspicuous from the outside’, said LeRoy.

‘Thank you, Kurt, so much for doing everything!,’ Rachel bear-hugged Kurt once more. ‘Where’s my room?’

She let him go and eyed him quizzically.

‘Just a sec, Rache,’ he said, reaching into the pocket of his smart grey Marc Jacobs coat. ‘That’s yours’.

He handed her a set of keys on a golden star keychain.

‘Aww, Kurt! Thanks.’ She gave him a peck on the cheek.

‘You’re welcome.’

The remaining of the day was spent over lunch (‘You really didn’t have to cook, Kurt, we could go out’, ‘Oh, no, it’s just a salad, don’t be silly’), small talk (‘So how’s your dad’s work in Congress going?’), swooning over Kurt’s talent as a decorator and getting Mr Berrys back to La Guardia for their plane to Ohio. When they finally got back, Rachel got a panic attack, because she never got around to thinking what to wear her first day at NYADA, and she had to “make a killer first impression”. Having picked out an outfit for her debut at college – a plain, but classy cream dress with a high waist, a dark blue jacket and a pair of nude heels she had bought following his advice back in Lima.

After the fashion crisis was over, they sat in the kitchen with cups of hot tea in their hands and chatted, until midnight, when they bid each other goodnight and parted in the hallway.

***

At eight thirty the following morning, Kurt and Rachel stood in front of NYADA’s main building, grinning inanely at their college. For some reason, even though he’d already spent a year in this very school, it all felt very new to Kurt. He thought it could be just the presence of Rachel. She could be a pain in the ass, that was true, and sometimes he really did want to strangle her, but having been separated from her for so many months (minus her tearful phone calls every night), he realized that he’d rather get annoyed by her twenty four seven, than spend so much time away from his best friend. Their bond had been born out of fierce rivalry, but once they looked past that, they both came to realize there was no other person who got them like the other did.

‘I’m so excited!,’ said Rachel, her hands balled into fists right under her chin.

‘Relax, you’re going to rule this place,’ repeated for the thousandth time Kurt.

‘Oh, no, I would not take your job from you.’ She bumped one of her fists into his arm, as he rolled his eyes.

She was right, though. The teachers at NYADA were in love with Kurt. Suddenly it turned out he was not just talented, or extraordinary, he was one of a kind. There could be many people in NYADA, many great singers, or actors, or dancers. There were plenty of gay guys, for sure (Kurt estimated they constituted some fifty to sixty percent of the male element at the school). There was even one other countertenor. But all those people were, quite simply, not Kurt. As it seemed, he embodied everything the teachers wanted from the next Broadway star: an exceptional voice, a stunning stage presence, impeccable acting, great dancing, a unique personality, and an ability to learn fast. Kurt had it all. And, on top of that, he was remarkably humble.

They spent good five minutes just staring at the school, while some students passed them and went in almost half an hour too early for classes. Finally Kurt and Rachel followed suit. Kurt instructed her quickly on how to get to each class, wished her good luck, and went his way.

Then he remembered something and ran up the main stairs after her.

‘Rache, coffee in the lunch break, remember!,’ he called after her.

‘I know, go now!,’ she shooed him away, still walking towards her class at the end of the hallway.

He chuckled to himself and started back down the stairs. He didn’t pay much attention to the people around him, until-

‘Excuse me, can  I ask you a question, I’m new here.’

His head snapped up. He was already at the bottom step, and the guy who had stopped him was a little further up.

Kurt’s eyes slid from the guy’s shiny shoes, through his bare ankles, well-fitted blue pants and dark red sweater to his gel-coated hair. Then his gaze went back to his eyes. Beautifully framed by black eyelashes. Hazel.

Kurt regained control over his mind and manners.

‘My name’s Kurt,’ he said, outstretching his hand.

The other guy smiled at him shyly, but warmly and fixed his hazel eyes at Kurt’s blue-green, reaching to squeeze his hand.

‘Blaine.’