The start of classes was a reality check for Kurt and Blaine. No longer did they stroll through the city for hours on end, sightseeing and people-watching. Instead, they were glued to textbooks, laptops and note pads, furiously trying to keep pace with the coursework that never seemed to stop piling up.

Blaine’s curriculum was especially grueling: a five-hour block of singing and dancing classes twice a week, plus additional music and acting classes scattered throughout his schedule. On top of that, he was taking three general education courses to meet his academic requirements. On Thursdays, he was in class for nearly nine hours straight, with just a half-hour break between his private voice lesson and biology lab to rush somewhere for coffee and a quick bite.

Most days, their schedules were completely different. Kurt and Blaine usually didn’t see each other from the time they kissed goodbye after morning coffee until dinner, or later. At night, Blaine would crawl into bed, exhausted, falling right into a deep sleep. Kurt, meanwhile, was turning into a night owl; he often worked on his blog until a late hour, the sound of Blaine’s soft snoring keeping him company as he typed.

It was probably a good thing that Blaine had so little time outside of school, because his bank account had dwindled rapidly since arriving in New York. He knew there was only so long he could live on his savings from graduation money and his summer job at Six Flags.

His mother was true to her word about making sure he was taken care of. She started sending him checks, randomly: he got two during the first week of classes, then another in mid-September. The amounts were generous, but Blaine knew they weren’t large enough to raise his father’s suspicions.

Accepting the money made him feel sick, angry. Blaine hated his continued dependence on the man who’d made it clear he didn’t find his son worthy of his support. Blaine didn’t want anything from him; he didn’t need him. He would prove it.

So even though he was already nearly overwhelmed by school, Blaine decided it was time to get a job.

***

There were two things Blaine knew well. Music, of course, was one of them. But he didn’t think it would be very lucrative to plop down in a subway station with his guitar and a smile – although he’d do it if he had to.

So he focused on the other thing: coffee. Within a week of classes starting, Blaine had grabbed a job application along with his morning drip at Mo’ Joe. Before he knew it, he was working part-time as a barista, smiling and whistling as he prepared drinks for patrons every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.

Kurt started going there on Sundays to do homework, settling in at a corner table with his books, laptop and headphones to keep him occupied through Blaine’s six-hour shift. Even though Blaine was working and Kurt was studying, it was a way for them to spend their limited time outside of class together – albeit in the loosest sense of the word. Plus, Blaine could always score Kurt a free non-fat mocha, serving it to him with a grin and a wink.

It was silly, really; just a job to keep himself afloat. But work was yet another place where Blaine felt like he belonged. He fit so perfectly in the cheery, retro café, with his red apron, cuffed jeans and bright smile. He made quick friends with the other baristas, mostly a mix of NYU students and struggling artists. They commiserated with each other over being broke and tired, even though they all knew they wouldn't trade it for the world.

Blaine’s life in New York was brimming with purpose and happiness: classes, friends, work, Kurt. All of the moving parts – scattered and crazy as they were – connected together so well, like pieces of a fascinating new puzzle. Despite being exhausted and overworked, Blaine felt strangely rejuvenated. It kept him going and going, even on his longest days.

And in those residual moments when Blaine felt adrift in a wide sea, unsure of how to keep himself afloat, Kurt was there, even with his own hectic schedule of classes, blogging and a work-study job staffing the front desk of the marketing department. Kurt always made sure Blaine was taken care of: having food ready when Blaine got home late on Wednesday nights, fueled only by coffee and day-old bran muffins from work; helping him focus and study when he felt like sleeping for hours during his meager free time; elbowing him awake on mornings when he might otherwise have thrown the covers over his head and lingered for an extra hour of rest.

It all hit him one Thursday morning in September, as he collapsed on a bench in the locker room after a particularly draining dance class. He reached into his duffel bag for a towel and his water bottle when his hand hit a smooth, unfamiliar object. Blaine’s face lit up with a grin when he pulled out the chocolate chip Clif bar, a blue Post-It note covered with Kurt’s loopy penmanship stuck to the wrapper.

To tide you over until dinner tonight. < 3 < 3 < 3

***

Rachel marched up to Blaine at the end of voice class one Friday, clutching the sheet music their group had been reading from for the past hour. The two friends had four classes together, including the same rigorous five-hour stretch of studio work twice a week. Some days, Blaine felt like he spent more time with Rachel than he did with Kurt.

“Some of us are coming back here to practice this after lunch,” she announced. “You should come, too.”

“I can’t,” Blaine said distractedly as he shoved his folder of sheet music into his stuffed shoulder bag. “I have to go to work.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Work? You got a job?”

“Yeah.” He looked at his watch. 12:05. Enough time to grab a sandwich before he had to be there at one. “At the coffee shop Kurt and I go to.”

Rachel looked confused. “Why?”

Blaine sighed. He’d avoided telling anyone other than Kurt about his estrangement from his father. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to squirm his way out of Rachel’s curious line of questioning for long. “Because New York is expensive, Rachel. I have to live. And I really like working there.”

“How often do you work?” she asked, frowning.

“Three days a week.”

Her frown deepened. “Are you going to have time for that with our class schedule?”

“Yes,” he said, casual but determined. “I’m fine. Why are you prying so much?”

“I’m just looking out for you, Blaine. Our curriculum is really intense. And I heard there’s going to be tryouts soon for a spring musical—”

“I can do it.” Blaine cut her off. “Listen, I really need to go. Thank you for being concerned, but I’m okay.” He gave her a wan smile, then jogged out of the theater, leaving her staring in bewilderment at his retreating figure.

***

At the end of their first week of classes, Kurt decided he wanted to keep the Hummel family tradition of Friday night dinners going in his new home in New York. He started preparing a delicious spread each week, timing it for when Blaine got back from the coffee shop around seven-thirty. Friday nights quickly became sacred to Kurt and Blaine; it was their dedicated time together, reserved amidst the chaos of school and work, with nothing but coffee to wake up for in the morning...if they decided to get out of bed at all.

Surely enough, Rachel usually ended up inviting herself to their dinners, picking out the vegan-friendly items from their serving dishes as she prattled on about classes and Finn and the latest annoying thing Chloe did. Kurt finally realized, with a sigh, that he might as well cater the entire meal to her special dietary needs, since she likely wasn’t going anywhere. It was probably a good thing to keep their meals as healthy as possible, anyway, seeing as how he was terrified of gaining the dreaded freshman fifteen.

One Friday night in late September, the three were seated together on the floor in Kurt and Blaine’s room, enjoying dinner and reveling in the freedom that came with the end of another busy week.

“Are you coming out with us tonight, Blaine?” Rachel asked suddenly.

Blaine glanced up from his rice bowl, where he’d been focused on pushing chunks of tofu off to the side and out of the way. As much as he appreciated the emphasis on healthy eating, Blaine had a long way to go before he could stomach an entire serving of the soft, white blocks of…actually, he wasn’t sure what they were made of.

“I don’t think so,” he mumbled, leaning over and forking some of his tofu into Kurt’s bowl.

Rachel pouted. “Why not?”

“Who’s going out?” Kurt asked, curious.

“Some theater people.” Rachel sounded surprised, as if she’d figured Blaine would have told him all about it. “We’ve started going out together on Friday nights. But Blaine doesn’t ever seem to want to come.” She playfully nudged his knee with her own.

“I get enough of you and Chelsea trying to one-up each other in music theory class without sacrificing my Friday nights to it, too,” Blaine retorted good-naturedly.

“It’s not like that, I swear! She’s not that bad outside of class. I mean, except when we do karaoke.” Rachel’s voice edged toward a whine, her eyes pleading. “Come on, Blaine. We have so much fun together. You’re really missing out!”

“Rachel, I can’t. This is one of the only nights Kurt and I get to spend together.”

“If you want to go, Blaine, you should go.” Kurt was sincere, but he couldn’t help the sadness that tinged his words. “I don’t want to keep you from making friends.”

“No – no,” Blaine repeated with emphasis. “It’s okay, really. I mean, I want to go, but…not tonight. This is our night.” Blaine reached out and put his hand on Kurt’s knee, squeezing it gently and smiling at him reassuringly. “Besides, I can’t really afford to be going out right now.”

“Is that why you got a job?” Rachel interjected, quickly making the connection to their conversation after class the previous week.

“Mmhmmm.” Blaine hummed his reply as he took a bite of rice and shitake mushrooms; the mix finally, deliciously tofu-free.

“But what about your parents? Aren’t they—”

“My parents are not helping me.” Blaine said it with such finality that Rachel clasped her mouth shut tightly.

When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, tentative. “Did something happen, Blaine?”

Kurt kept a wary eye on Blaine – staring down into the depths of his bowl, stabbing each fluffy, brown grain of rice with the prong of his fork.

Blaine had been expecting these questions from Rachel after last week. He didn’t feel like talking about the fight with his father anymore; not now, when he was truly starting to feel good about being on his own. But Rachel was his friend, and she cared about him. He exhaled deeply, forcing himself to unearth the only thing in his life that could make him feel miserable anymore.

“Yeah. Um. I just…had this stupid fight with my dad before I left.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, suddenly feeling drained. “He’s not really happy with me doing the whole music thing.” Or anything I do. “So he basically cut me off.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Oh, Blaine.” She glanced over at Kurt, her heart sinking at the way his hand sneaked over to couple with Blaine’s against the floor. “What are you going to do?”

Blaine opened his mouth, then closed it, shrugging. “I don’t know. It sounds like my mom’s trying to talk to him, but…” he trailed off, waving his free hand as if to say, who knows. She’d never been able to handle conflict. But she was trying. That, at least, was something new. “I’m okay though. It was a little rough for a while, but I feel good now that I’m away from all of that...negativity. I belong here.”

Rachel was quiet for a few moments as she poked at the last of her own dinner, evidently deep in thought. “I don’t know how much you know about this, Blaine,” she finally said. “But after my I finally met my mom the other year, and she told me she didn’t want me, I was heartbroken. I know how hard it is for your own flesh and blood to reject you, for nothing other than you being yourself.”

Rachel’s hands clasped tightly over her heart as she continued her passionate speech. “But there’s something important I’ve learned about family since then. I have two dads who love me. I wouldn’t trade them for anything – certainly not for a woman who happens to be my birth mother, but doesn’t care about me the way they do. Family isn’t about genetics or bloodlines. It’s about…relationships. Love and acceptance.”

Rachel looked at Kurt earnestly. “You know, Kurt. You have Finn and his mom now. You’re a family, even if it’s not in the traditional sense.”

She pulled a hand from her chest and brought it to Blaine’s knee; the three friends forming an unbroken chain in the little dorm room, full of hope and memories and grand ideals. “And look at us here, in New York, following our dreams together. We’ve already been through so much. You’ve supported me and I’m supporting you. You guys are like my family now, too.”

“It’s true,” Kurt agreed, grinning at her. It was why he’d felt so strongly about bringing his family dinner tradition to New York, here with Blaine, who felt just as much like family as his dad and Carole and Finn. He hadn’t quite accounted for Rachel when he’d planned the weekly dates, but her presence here seemed right, too.

“And I know that someday, years in the future, we’ll all still be together, just like this,” Rachel continued. “Except we’ll be having dinners together in your fabulous apartment.”

“Hopefully not just like this,” Kurt quipped, uncomfortably adjusting his position on the floor. He turned to Blaine, his eyes teasing. “I demand we have a table to sit at by then.”

Rachel laughed, swatting at his arm with her free hand. “You know what I mean, silly. I mean we’re going to keep being a family. Building new memories together.” Rachel finished with a nod. “Because you make families. You don’t just get them.”

As he listened to Rachel’s heartfelt words, Blaine thought about how happy he’d been the past few weeks; how full his life was and how taken care of he felt. There was more emotion here – more love and passion and camaraderie – than he’d experienced at home in a long time.

Rachel was right: this is what family was supposed to feel like; not the dysfunctional emotional detachment among people who happened to share a last name. Kurt was his family. Rachel, too. And he was forging new friendships over sore vocal cords and flubbed dance moves and grande lattes. None of these people shared his blood; but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt they would never try to bring him down like the man who did.

Blaine smiled, letting the warm, fuzzy feeling cascade over him. “You know what, Rachel? We wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world, either.”

“Awwww, Blaine.” She pulled him and Kurt in for a group hug; the three friends laughing and falling into each other from their awkward seated positions. “I love you guys.”

Rachel smacked a kiss onto each boy’s cheek before releasing them and starting to get up from her spot on the floor. “Now, I’m going to leave you two to enjoy the rest of your date night together.” She winked at them as she picked up her keys and headed toward the door. “Blaine, I’ll see if people can go out on Saturday night instead next weekend. Then maybe you’ll come?”

Blaine grinned at her. “Deal. Thanks, Rachel.”

Kurt and Blaine were both still smiling as the door closed behind her.

"She’s not so bad sometimes,” Blaine mused, pulling Kurt close and kissing the top of his head.

***

Every day at work, Blaine stared curiously at the music equipment standing in the corner of the café, wondering why it lay unused. He’d been working at Mo’ Joe for nearly four weeks now, but he still hadn’t heard of any acts playing there.

“So, does anyone actually ever play music here?” he finally asked a co-worker one day, gesturing with his chin toward the speakers and covered-up keyboard.

Molly, the disinterested, dreadlocked barista he was working with, shrugged from her seat on a stool against the wall. “Sometimes.”

Blaine’s eyes wandered around the quiet shop. Business was slow today; not uncommon for Sunday afternoons, as he was learning. Even Kurt wasn’t there – he’d gone “out on a fashion mission with Ashleigh,” according to his text, and wouldn’t stop by until later.

“Do you think I can check it out?”

Molly looked up at him from her paperback novel. “Oh, the freshman wants a coffee shop gig, does he?” she taunted sarcastically.

“Well, can I?” Blaine’s face was lit up with hope and eagerness.

She shrugged again, apathetic. “Go for it.”

Blaine half-skipped over to the music equipment, uncovering the keyboard and flicking the mic switch on. He tapped it twice, the sudden harsh sound reverberating around the hushed room. “Testing.” People looked up at him in various stages of curiosity and annoyance over the interruption.

Blaine took a deep breath, grinning excitedly. “Hi, everybody. My name is Blaine. I’m going to play a few songs for you this afternoon, if that’s okay.”

He started with the first thing that popped into his head – inexplicably, “Silly Love Songs,” from his Dalton days – then rolled through songs by artists that he knew people would recognize: John Mayer, the Beatles, Maroon 5. A couple of customers left after awhile; the impromptu musical performance breaking into their plans for quiet study time. But others watched him with enjoyment, clapping as he finished each song.

When Kurt came in forty-five minutes later and saw Blaine sitting in front of the keyboard, he grinned, shaking his head with amusement. Of course, he convinced them to let him play music. He quickly waved to his boyfriend as he situated himself at his usual table, not wanting to interrupt the lovely rendition of “All You Need Is Love” Blaine was in the middle of singing.

As he watched Blaine perform, Kurt realized how much he missed seeing him this way: deep in his element and loving every second of it. For a brief moment, he wished they were all back at McKinley, singing and dancing in glee club together every day. But seeing Blaine here – forging ahead toward his dreams, even with a tiny step like playing for a dozen people in a coffee shop on a lazy Sunday afternoon – was somehow even better.

At the end of the next song, Kurt forced himself to crack open his homework. He quickly became absorbed in his reading for marketing class, the sweet sounds of piano and Blaine’s singing drifting in the back of his mind. He was scribbling notes about brand management and product development in the margin of his textbook when Blaine’s voice flooded his consciousness.

“This next song is for that guy over there.”

Kurt snapped his head up, immediately noticing that Blaine was pointing a finger directly at him, a playful expression on his face. Kurt shot him a questioning look; but Blaine just turned his gaze to the customers scattered throughout the shop.

“He makes my life better every single day.”

Kurt dropped his pen into the crease of his textbook, mirroring Blaine’s dopey grin as a chorus of awwws rang out from a group of girls seated at a nearby table. Blaine chuckled as he looked down at his keyboard and began to play.

There’s a darkness upon me that flooded in light
In the fine print they tell me what’s wrong and what’s right
It comes in black and it comes in white
And I’m frightened by those who don’t see it

It wasn’t a love song; at least not in the traditional sense. Blaine slowed the tempo a bit, fiddling with the notes as he went along so the song would work with nothing but piano accompaniment. He hoped Kurt would listen to the lyrics, ringing clear through the quiet café, and understand what he was trying to say.

Blaine was here in this coffee shop, in New York, in this wonderful new life because of Kurt. Kurt was the one who had helped him learn to follow his dreams and listen to his heart. Blaine wasn’t sure if he would have ever found the confidence to stand up for himself otherwise. Kurt was fearless, driven, passionate. It poured out of him, and Blaine found it contagious.

Blaine couldn't begin to tell Kurt how deep his love, admiration and affection ran; it was so much deeper than he could ever let any hate or judgment penetrate. So he sang it instead, keeping his gaze leveled on his beautiful, confident boyfriend the entire time.

When nothing is owed, deserved or expected
And your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected
If you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it

Kurt got it. He started to tear up as he listened to the words, the building crescendo of the melody. Blaine was exposing his story to the world, and dedicating his journey to Kurt.

There was a dream
And one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I’ll scream till I die or the last of those bad thoughts are finally out

It was so clear to Blaine now; surrounded by Kurt and all the other people he’d met who were forging their own paths, creating their own lives. There was no room left in his life – in the new little family he and Kurt were making together – for anyone who would doubt them.

It was time to look forward: no sadness, no regrets. He was in charge of his own life, and he’d be damned if he was going to let the past upset his present and his future.

Blaine didn't have that nagging, lingering feeling of dread anymore. Instead, there was only hope; the road ahead of him bright with opportunity and promise. It would be hard work – sweat and blood and tears – but he knew he could make it. And at the end of that road was the fulfillment of a dream he held so dear; his future spilling over with more possibilities than he could fathom.

There’s a darkness upon you that flooded in light
In the fine print they tell you what’s wrong and what’s right
And it flies by day and it flies by night
And I’m frightened by those who don’t see it

He ended, slowly and quietly, and the small crowd broke out in genuine applause. Kurt jumped out of his seat and clapped, his cheeks wet from tears.

“Thanks,” Blaine said into the mic. He looked over at Kurt standing there, absolutely beaming at him with love and pride. “I’m going to take a quick break.”

Kurt was still grinning when Blaine got close. “How in the world did you convince them to let you play?”

Blaine shrugged, snaking his arms around Kurt’s waist. “No one seemed to care. So I figured I’d give it a try.”

Kurt stared at him for a moment, his eyelids slowly fluttering open and closed. “Can I kiss you?”

Blaine’s smile was slow, happy. “You never have to ask me that.”

“I know, but…” Kurt hesitated as he looked around the café, making sure no one was paying attention. He leaned in, tentatively touching his lips to Blaine’s. Blaine pressed his mouth closer, tighter, dipping Kurt backward slightly before pulling away with an exaggerated smack.

Kurt laughed as they separated. They had just kissed in public, and it all felt so fantastic. “You should get back up there. I think your fans want to hear more.”

Blaine grinned. “You’ll be here when I’m done?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Blaine jogged back over to the keyboard, settling in for another round of performances on what had turned out to be one of his greatest days in New York so far. “Okay, who’s got a request?”

Yep, things are pretty good here, indeed.