Kurt found himself alone in his now empty flat. His dad had left just like he'd asked and now he was completely alone with his thoughts. Now he was able to actually think about everything that had happened.

From the flashback to everything that had come tumbling down with that discovery. Blaine, he hadn't been in a relationship for five or six years and for some unknown reason Blaine had agreed to his father's plan to pretend they were.

This also meant that Kurt knew even less about his life than he thought. Did he have boyfriends? Lovers? What had he been doing during all these years? Was the magazine his only income?

Basically who was he?

It was now painfully obvious why Blaine hadn't been able or keen to answer any of his questions. He had the same amount of information about Kurt as Kurt himself in his state. Kurt was trying to gather every little bit of information about himself that he could. But it wasn't much.

He knew he was probably single, working for a magazine and Sebastian was his friend. But beyond this he knew nothing. He couldn't be exactly like he was five years ago but then again could he have changed that much?

In a desperate need to know who he was Kurt called Sebastian to come over so they could have a boy night. For once the man didn't make any sexual jokes at Kurt's poor choice of words. When Sebastian arrived at the apartment hours later he was greeted with a now clean place but Kurt still looked like a truck had run over him. They both sat on the couch, eating some weird food that Kurt had prepared for them.

"So, not that I'm not enjoying myself, but why did you call?" Kurt sighed and put his plate aside.

"I have no idea who I am. I don't know anything about my life. I'm so mad at you for not telling me anything but my need to know who I am is much stronger than my hate for you. So, would you tell me? About my life?" Kurt finished shyly.

"Well I'm so happy to know that the reason why I'm here tonight is because you're enjoying my presence. Such an ego boost, Hummel." Sebastian barked, trying to fight a bit with Kurt like they used too, but judging by the look on the other man's face this was no time to joke. "Okay, okay. No bitch remark for tonight. I'll do my best. So, what do you want to know about your life?"

"I don't know, anything important I guess. Who I am, basically." The taller man took a deep breath and rubbed his face in prevision of the enormous task he had in front of him.

"Okay, so who are you. Well you're Kurt Hummel, working for a fashion magazine, you're bitchy as fuck and have, what some could call, great taste in clothes." Kurt sat back in the couch glaring at his friend.

"Fine. Hum, let see. I'm not going to sugarcoat things so if it becomes too much just stop me okay?" Kurt nodded and Sebastian continued. "Okay so you work too much, way too much, you're good at what you're doing and you push yourself hard. That's probably why your editor didn't kick you out because of your condition. You have no life beside work or well… You go out - we go out actually - to club. And most of the time you just drink and pick up a man to go home with. Since high school you never had another boyfriend but you had countless hook-ups. You don't talk to your father enough, you still find Rachel Berry annoying as fuck, you're still a freak with healthy food even if you binge on pizza and cheesecake for some reason."

Kurt tried to follow the flow of words and to collect and save every new piece of information. It was a lot to take in. Well not the part about the food and Rachel but the one about his job and the hook-ups.

"So, I'm really…alone? Besides all the …men that I brought home, I have no one beside my friends?"

"I won't comment about the friend part and shit, but yes, Kurt. You don't talk about it and you never really admit it to in a non-drunken state but you feel desperately alone. That's why you work so much and try to forget it by having that much sex. It's not healthy but that's your way of coping with life. Everyone has their own."

Kurt nodded silently, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. So the dream he had had about men, and all those faces and hands were probably flashbacks about hook-ups. And the feeling that came with it, the fact that some part of him enjoyed it but felt so wrong with it would have been him feeling so alone that the only thing he could think of was sex, even if it didn't feel right at all and even if it didn't erase his loneliness.

Sebastian must have sensed his friend's distress; he scooted closer and took Kurt in his arms.

"Hey, it's alright. You did great things too Kurt. You graduated, found an amazing job at which you're freaking talented at, you bought a fucking condo in New York and you almost got a taste of my amazing self." Kurt looked up alarmed at his friend.

"I almost got what?"

"Cheer up Hummelina, we almost had sex back when we were in college. We never made it to the bed and never got our clothes off. Nothing happened, you can breathe again." At the same time Kurt let out a deep breath he had been holding. "Maybe you should try to find your old phone and computer, go through mails and pictures and stuff? That might help you."

They spent the rest of the evening watching some movies until the taller man left. Kurt found himself alone in his apartment, again. He started to search his phone and computer just like Sebastian had told him too. It took him an hour to find it, hidden under boxes and clothes and paper.

Kurt opened his phone and tapped in the code Sebastian had given him. He had also made a comment about "fucking sneaking bastard Anderson" but Kurt had blocked any thoughts about the man so he didn't comment.

The minute the phone was on, a flow of unread texts popped onto the screen. Kurt started to read some, afraid of having missed something really important.

[From Christian]

Babe, stop playing hard to get. It's boring. I just need a quick fuck, come over tonight, k?

[From Paul]

Hummel get your ass in my bed, it needs to be reacquainted with my dick.

[From unknown]

Hey, sorry to disturb you, but I forgot my jacket at your place when I left that morning, can I come over and get it and maybe we could have a repeat of that night?

[From Nathan]

Hola, long time no see. Do you want to meet up tonight? I have new condoms to try

Kurt quickly shoved the phone aside and ran to the bathroom to empty his stomach. Once he made sure to clean up a bit he fell down on the floor, his head resting heavily against the cold porcelain. He was a whore. He had only read four messages and he had 30 others to go through. He couldn't do it. This was not what he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be happy with a boyfriend and a nice job. He was supposed to love and be loved, to go home every night to some nice text from his boyfriend or maybe fiancé, or better go home to the person he loved. Instead he spent his day and night working and fucking. This was not the life he had wanted for himself when he was nineteen, and now that he was 24, almost 25, even if he didn't have all his memory back he was sure as hell that it wasn't something he wanted as well.

Kurt felt cheap and dirty, even worse than after the first time he had his nightmare. Because those texts were the hard cold reality and there was no way he could hide himself behind some "it's just a post traumatic reaction". He was a mess, his life was a mess and above all that he was a whore that just gave himself to the first man he encountered in a club.

He made his way to his bed with difficulty and turned the light off, praying that sleep would come quickly.

Kurt was standing in the middle of his kitchen when some memories hit him again. He remembered trying to cook soufflé but failing miserably, making cookies with Rachel once, muffins and an elaborate meal. He remembered himself letting go of a plate to see it breaking on the floor and he remembered burning himself with a pan. The memories hit him forcefully.

"Blaine!" Kurt found himself shouting in his empty flat. His first reaction had been to call for the man that had lied to him. His mind and body's first reaction were to reach out for him to share the piece of information.

Kurt felt his chest constrict and he looked down at his hand. What was wrong with him? He couldn't want to talk to the man. He almost hated him for all he did. He shouldn't want to share this with him; he shouldn't want to talk to him. This was not supposed to be his first reaction or train of thought. He shouldn't think first thing: this is going to make Blaine laugh so much. Because that man had lied to him and played a wicked game. Kurt had thrown him out of his life and he didn't want to hear from him ever again. But then, it would take him a long time to get accustomed to the fact that he couldn't seek Blaine whenever something happened. He was supposed to be his own support system. He could enjoy some little pleasures like having a new memory by himself. He didn't need a man to share it with and he certainly didn't need Blaine fucking Anderson.

So Kurt just enjoyed his new wave of fresh memories, alone in his flat and decided that to celebrate this he was going to cook himself some amazing dinner. He didn't admit to himself that not being able to share the news with Blaine was bitter and he certainly didn't admit to himself that when he went to the grocery store he inadvertently bought food like two people were living in his flat. No, he just told himself that he had made some reserves so he wouldn't have to go back anytime soon.

Kurt was being pinned on his bed by Blaine. He didn't know that being manhandled like that was such a turn on for him. Blaine had turned him so Kurt would be on his hands and knees. Blaine was kissing slowly down Kurt's spine, biting and licking every part of Kurt's back. Kurt's cock was hard and every bit or lick made him even harder. He couldn't wait for Blaine to touch him, to stroke him or to finger him. Kurt just wanted to be touched in one way or another.

"Blaine," Kurt moaned loudly.

"Tell me baby, what do you want?" Blaine pressed, making his hand go up and down on Kurt's thigh. Kurt just moaned louder, not able to say a word, his brain completely shut down by his lust.

"Do you want to me lick you open, Kurt? Do you want my tongue inside you? Do you want to be fucked by my tongue and then my cock?"

"Oh god, yes! Please, Blaine, I need you." Blaine started to press his tongue at Kurt's entrance, teasing it and licking it. "Oh fuck, Blaine!"

Suddenly Kurt found himself being turned over, brown-hazel eyes being replace by green. Kurt's hand flew to the other man's hair. There were no soft curls or infuriating gel. Instead there was some strawberry blond hair. Kurt took one look at the man in front of him, it wasn't Blaine, he didn't know this man, he was sure that he'd never met him before.

"So, tell me baby, do you want to be fucked by my tongue or my cock?" Kurt didn't move and only snapped out of his state when the man started to stroke his painfully hard cock.

"Neither! Don't touch me!" Kurt yelled, disgusted that somebody he didn't know was touching him in such an intimate way. "Let go of me!"

"Oh but sweetcheeks, you've been begging for my cock all evening. I'm not going to let you out like that. Now be a good bitch."

The man was becoming forceful and Kurt, no matter how much he tried,couldn't do anything to get out of the man's grasp. The man, tired of seeing Kurt fight, slapped him hard in the face.

Kurt woke up, his body jerking awake. He was covered in sweat and tears. He threw his arms to the other side of the bed, reaching for Blaine, for the safety and for the love he knew, reaching for the strong arms he knew so well. But Kurt only found emptiness. No one was in his bed beside him; he had no one to keep him safe now, to love him. Everyone had lied to him, Blaine even more.

Kurt punched what had been Blaine pillow and grabbed it forcefully, shoving his head in it and crying all he could. He had hated his dreams, he felt used, dirty and so cheap. He didn't know this man but Kurt didn't need to think twice before knowing that he must have been someone he took home at some point. He didn't want to remember that. He didn't want to remember how he gave himself like he was nothing. He didn't want to remember what it was to be worshipped by Blaine either.

"I hate you, Blaine Anderson. I hate you so much." Kurt repeated over and over into the tear-soaked pillow.