There are lots of important things to figure out when you move to a new city. For Kurt and Blaine, one of the items near the top of the list was finding a coffee shop to replace their beloved Lima Bean.

They’d roved the neighborhood during their first week in New York, trying out a different coffee place each morning in the hope of finding a café where they could become “regulars.” Some they’d ruled out right away: too boring, too crowded, too overpriced.

Now they were stuck between two. They debated the merits of each on Thursday morning, sitting by a sunny window at Mo’ Joe, Blaine’s pick.

“Looks like they have live music here sometimes,” Blaine said, eyeing the speakers and mic stand set up in one corner. The shop was bright and energetic, with retro black-and-white décor and friendly, talkative baristas.

“But the other coffee shop has a fireplace. Blaine, a fireplace!” Kurt had snorted with laughter when he first read the café’s name – Brewed Awakenings – and fallen in love with the cozy interior filled with plush chairs and framed artwork by local artists. “We could sit by the fire while we do our homework.”

“Yeah, but the coffee was terrible.”

Kurt pursed his lips. “True.”

“Tell you what.” Blaine leaned forward to place his hand on Kurt’s knee under the table. “We can go there anytime you want this winter to get hot chocolate and sit by the fire and escape the bitter New York cold.” Blaine paused and looked around. “But I think this should be our regular coffee place.”

Kurt sighed wistfully. He was right. “Okay. You win this one.” Then he leaned closer, his voice low and teasing as his hand found Blaine’s. “I hope it’s really cold this winter, because I am dragging you there every opportunity I get.”

“If it’s too cold, we might not want to leave our room,” Blaine countered, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Kurt barely bit back his smile. “Touché, sir.”

***

New York was proving to be a wealth of inspiration for Kurt and his blog. In Ohio, he’d had to rely on magazines and the internet as his windows to the fashion world. Here, it constantly surrounded him; an electrifying pulse that never stopped beating. It got him thinking, and wondering, and dreaming about how he could be a part of it, to make his own mark on the fashion scene.

He finally sat down that afternoon to write a proper post about his New York experience – and the new ideas taking shape in his mind.

August 23, 2012

Hello from New York! It’s barely been a week, but I’m already so inspired by this amazing city: the people, the architecture, the energy. I feel like I’m at the center of everything, instead of living out in the periphery. New York is more than just the fashion capital of the world; it’s the capital of everything in the world – at least, in my world right now.

This morning, I finally met with Dr. Hensley, my adviser for my interdisciplinary major in fashion journalism and marketing at NYU. She used to be a fashion editor for Harper’s Bazaar – can you even believe my life? She’s helping me develop my curriculum, and I’m so thrilled about how it’s shaping up. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to apply for an internship by spring! Get ready, Vogue – here comes Kurt Hummel!

We talked a bit about Kurtain, too. She said she’s visited my humble little blog a few times (hello, Dr. Hensley!), and she thinks it has a lot of potential. It got me thinking about how it could evolve, especially now that my vantage point has changed so dramatically.

When I started my blog last year, I said I wanted to uncover who and what is next in fashion. So, I thought – what better way to do that than to bring all the fantastic, unique, cutting-edge styles I see here in New York to you, wherever you are! And then I want to know what you think: how do the fashions you see on my blog influence your own style?

So, Kurtsies, are you excited to see more fashions straight from the streets of New York City? But don’t forget: I still want to hear from you and see what you’re wearing, no matter where you live.

Closing the Kurtain for now…

Love, Kurt

While Kurt was busily typing up his latest blog entry, Blaine was at his own desk checking his email. Since arriving in New York, he’d quickly learned his mother was much more forthcoming with her thoughts over email than in person. The words weren’t so scary, so confrontational when she could hide behind her computer screen.

Blaine, I worry about you so much that my heart aches. Please let me know you’re all right.

Mom, I’m fine. I’m so happy here…I feel like I belong.

Your father should not have said those things to you. I told him so. He was rude and cruel. But you shouldn’t have said what you did to him, either. He is still your father.

Sorry, but it was time something was said. I’ve tried to talk to both of you about everything for so long…for years, but it’s never worked. You never listened. He was wrong to push his dreams on me, and then bully me when I ended up following my own path.

He has his reasons, Blaine. Just give him time. He’ll come around. You need to understand, you are our only son. We love you. I couldn’t love you more, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I’ve acted like I don’t accept you. You know I find it difficult to discuss these things. I’m scared for you, and I’m so torn between that and what you say makes you happy.

Blaine let out a quiet breath as he re-read his mother’s words; anger, frustration and love warring in his chest. He stole a glance at Kurt, thankful that he was too wrapped up in blogging to notice the pained expression written across Blaine’s face.

As he was trying to decide how to respond to her message, Rachel burst through Kurt and Blaine’s open door. They’d been keeping it propped open all week to try and get to know some of the other students on their floor. It was Blaine’s idea, of course – Kurt was still fretting about their floormates’ potential reactions to their big bed. He just hoped people would focus on their fabulous décor instead.

But they were both reconsidering the open door policy now, with the amount of times Rachel had barged in over the past few days to complain about her roommate, Chloe: a quiet, mousy blonde biochemistry major from Connecticut.

“Ugh!” Rachel yelled in frustration, flinging herself backward onto their bed. “She is impossible to get along with. All I was doing was hanging up my collection of musical posters, and she asked me to turn off my Yentl soundtrack because she was doing homework.”

“Classes haven’t even started yet,” Blaine commented, confusion in his voice. For once, he was grateful for the distraction Rachel provided. He snapped his laptop shut, willing himself to block out his problems from back home just as easily.

“Do you know what she said to me?” Rachel sat up suddenly, looking at the boys with huge, offended eyes. “‘Can you please stop singing?’”

Blaine winced. “Yikes.”

“I swear, they must have matched you two up on fashion sense alone,” Kurt remarked absently as he skimmed a new comment on his blog. He and Blaine had only met Chloe once so far, but the hideous pink and green plaid jumper she’d been wearing was permanently burned into his memory. “At least you’ve found someone to swap carousel sweaters with this fall.”

“Oh, speaking of this fall!” Rachel beamed, her mood suddenly brightening. “I talked to Finn and he’s going to come visit me for fall break in October!” But her smile quickly faded to a frown. “And if she even thinks of saying anything about my boyfriend visiting for a few days–”

“If she says anything, then Finn can stay here with us,” Kurt interrupted with an exasperated tone. He looked over at Blaine, silently asking for his approval. Blaine shrugged in agreement. “So don’t worry about it now. Here.” Kurt plucked a magazine off his bookshelf and tossed it in her direction. “Read this and be quiet until we’re ready to go to dinner.”

***

Friday’s freshman orientation was mostly a boring overview of university policies combined with cheesy, half-hearted cheers intended to instill NYU pride in the school’s newest students.

The day was an exercise in patience for Kurt. He’d seen a sign for a sample sale at a boutique off Seventh Avenue the other day, and he wanted to make it there before the store closed. He managed to sneak out for an hour in the afternoon, leaving a happy Blaine and Rachel behind to chat and perform the goofy songs with some other new students they’d met that day.

Orientation ended with a mixer in the lobby of their dorm, where most of the new freshman class lived. The overzealous resident assistants running the party kept breaking the students up into different groups at random – “By the state you’re from!” “By your hair color!” – to encourage them to get to know other people.

Then they had to split up by academic program. Kurt and Blaine made sad faces at each other as Rachel dragged Blaine over to where the Tisch students were congregating.

Left to himself, Kurt hesitantly approached the journalism crowd. He didn’t really have a program, since he’d created his own major, but he figured he’d end up taking a lot of writing classes with these students.

He was immediately swept into a conversation with a tall girl wearing thick, tortoise shell glasses. Kurt couldn’t quite follow what she was talking about – something he vaguely remembered hearing about on the news and in government class in high school – because he was distracted by how much her hazel eyes reminded him of Blaine’s. If she just ditched those nerdy glasses, and cleaned her eyebrows up a bit…

“…So my story focused on that aspect. I mean, that’s really the crux of the issue – we’re turning a blind eye to the growing dominance of the BRIC. Did you know, by 2027, their economies could surpass that of the United States?”

Kurt blinked. The brick? “Oh!” he exclaimed, her statement finally registering in his brain. “Right. Like China.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he closed his eyes, rolling them behind his eyelids. Way to sound like a complete idiot.

The look on the girl’s face told Kurt that she did, in fact, think he was a complete idiot. “So…” she ventured. “What kind of journalism are you interested in?”

“Fashion,” Kurt replied, his voice rising with excitement. He could never quite help it when he started talking about his dream job. “I want to be a fashion editor, for a magazine maybe.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt thought he saw another girl a few feet away look over at him.

“Fashion?” she said, raising a thick eyebrow with skepticism. “I didn’t realize the journalism department here offered the opportunity to study something like…that.”

Kurt felt his expression contort into a positively epic bitch face. Oh, no she did not. “Well actually, it ordinarily doesn’t, but they let me create my own major in fashion journalism and marketing. But, for the record, fashion isn’t as trivial as you’re insinuating. It’s living history, just like politics and international affairs. In a hundred years, yes, people will be studying our economies. But you know what else they’ll be looking at? What we wore. Because fashion helps define our society.”

His lips turned up in a smug smile. “And did you know the fashion industry contributes hundreds of billions of dollars to our economy? Or did you fail to research that important detail for your story, or the growing importance of fashion in the developing economies of the BRIC countries?”

As Glasses Girl – Kurt realized he’d never even gotten her name – gaped at him, another female voice interrupted their debate. “I’m interested in fashion writing, too.”

It was the girl Kurt had noticed staring at him. Glasses Girl finally recovered from her shock, rolling her eyes and walking away, leaving Kurt alone with his new ally.

The new girl cast a sideways glance at her retreating figure. “You seemed like you could use rescuing from that snob,” she said to Kurt.

Kurt chuckled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She gave Kurt a friendly smile. But her eyes searched his face intensely. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

Kurt scrutinized the petite, dark-haired girl more closely. He thought he’d seen her moving in last weekend with her parents, but otherwise he was pretty sure he’d never met her before in his life. “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Hmm.” She stared at him again, brows knitted. “Well, anyway,” she said, shrugging. “Have you done any fashion writing? I came here last summer to intern with a magazine and I loved it.”

Kurt’s eyes sparkled with delight. He was thrilled to meet someone else like him. “Really? Gosh, I feel like such a bumpkin next to you! I run a blog about fashion in my spare time, but that’s about it. Ohio’s not the best place to score experience with fashion magazines, you know? That’s where I’m from.”

She narrowed her bright blue eyes at him. “Wait, what’s your name?”

“Kurt Hummel.”

Her mouth dropped open, realization dawning on her face. “Kurtain.”

Now it was Kurt’s turn to look confused. “Yeah, that’s my blog. How do you know the name of it?”

“Are you kidding me?” She grabbed Kurt’s hands, squeezing them with excitement. “I love that blog! I read it, like, every day!”

“You read my blog?” Kurt was dumbfounded. This random stranger who had found him in a crowd of hundreds of people actually knew him, knew his blog? Oh my god!

She laughed, a musical sound that had Kurt grinning with delight. “Yeah! I remember now, you wrote that you were coming here. But I never thought I’d actually meet you! Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, as if she’d just remembered something important. “You know that post the other week about all the different ways people were wearing scarves for fall? Look!” She whipped her head around, showing off the green patterned scarf that was expertly wrapped into her thick, brown hair. “You totally inspired me!”

“It looks fantastic!” Kurt raved, reaching out to lightly touch the material. “I love that print. Where did you find it?”

“At a consignment shop back home. In New Jersey. I’m Ashleigh, by the way…”

While the two new friends chattered about fashion and Kurt’s blog, across the room, Blaine had been pulled into a conversation with some playwriting students, who were comparing screenplays they’d written in high school. Blaine was about to mention Kurt’s Pip Pip, Hooray musical when he caught sight of Rachel, waving vigorously to get his attention. He excused himself and wandered over to where she was standing, next to a pretty, red-headed girl.

“Blaine!” Rachel grabbed his arm and pulled him close. “This is Chelsea. She’s in our music theater program.”

“Hi, Chelsea.” As they shook hands, Blaine was struck by how beautiful she was. Her creamy white skin reminded him of Kurt’s, but even more delicate, with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. “It’s nice to meet you. Where are you from?”

“Atlanta.” Her voice was like honey: sweet, smooth and southern. “Pleasure’s all mine, Blaine.”

She gazed at him with brilliant emerald eyes, gleaming with interest. Blaine got the distinct impression that this lovely girl was used to a certain type of attention from boys – a brand of attention that Blaine, unfortunately, wasn’t equipped to provide her with.

“We were just sharing some of our notable theater experience,” Rachel interjected.

“Ah.” Blaine put his arm around Rachel’s shoulders, an amiable gesture between friends. “Well, this stunning lady and I shared the spotlight in West Side Story back home in Ohio this spring,” he told Chelsea.

Chelsea’s eyes flitted between them, stopping to wander appreciatively across Blaine’s arms and chest. He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

“So I see you two developed an off-stage romance as well,” she commented, smiling at them. Was that jealousy playing at the edges of her mouth?

Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Rachel interrupted him with a loud laugh. “Oh no, no! Blaine is in a long-term relationship with my best friend, Kurt. Although we did attempt to date at one point during our junior year while Blaine was going through a conflicted period…”

As Rachel droned on about their embarrassing, failed dating experiment, Blaine’s eyes automatically searched out Kurt in the crowd. He finally found him, back turned to Blaine, still engaged in a lively conversation with Ashleigh. Blaine felt the corners of his lips tug upward as he watched Kurt’s hands wave expressively in the air.

Chelsea’s gaze followed Blaine’s. “Oh.” The sound was startled, the understanding quick. “I see.” She gave Blaine a polite smile.

“And I have a boyfriend, too,” Rachel added. “His name is Finn. He’s a quarterback at Ohio State,” she said proudly.

Chelsea smiled at Rachel. This girl smiled a lot, Blaine mused, each one of them different. This one was decidedly sarcastic.

“Quaint,” she remarked. Rachel frowned, picking up on the condescending tone. “I just ended it with my boyfriend. Couldn’t have anything distracting me from my dreams.”

“And what are those?” Rachel’s voice was light, but Blaine could tell she was trying to size up her competition.

Chelsea laughed. “Same as all of us, I suppose. Broadway. Tonys. Fame.” Another smile, confident and biting. “I’m going to be a star.”

Blaine turned to Rachel just in time to see her eyes turn to daggers. Okay, time to get out of here.

“I hate to be rude, but I think I’m going to grab Kurt and head back upstairs. It’s been a long day.” He leaned over to give a still-glowering Rachel a kiss on the cheek, then laid a hand on Chelsea’s arm. “Chelsea. It was so great to meet you. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

With one last friendly smile and a wave, Blaine left the girls to battle it out, letting out a relieved sigh as he walked away.

***

Kurt was practically floating as he and Blaine returned to their room.

“I got recognized, Blaine! Can you believe it? I actually met a stranger who knew my blog!”

“That’s so cool.” Blaine grinned at him, sliding his arm around Kurt’s waist and pulling him close as they walked down the empty hallway.

“I mean, I know people are reading it. I get a lot of comments. But to actually meet someone is…incredible. I’ll never forget it.” Kurt beamed. “What about you? Did you meet some other theater people?”

“Yeah, a few.” Blaine chuckled as they entered their room. “I think Rachel already found an enemy in one of them.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Figures. It was inevitable, really, now that she’ll have actual competition here.”

“Well, to be fair, this girl seems like a total bitch. Chelsea. She’s like…” Blaine thought for a moment, wanting to characterize her properly. “She’s like a really cruel, southern version of Rachel. I mean, at first it seemed like she was trying to hit on me—” Blaine watched, amused, as Kurt’s eyes darkened “—but we cleared that up. Then she started talking about how she wants to be a Broadway star and all that.” He laughed. “You should have seen Rachel’s face.”

“Oh, I know the face you’re talking about. I’ve seen it many times.” Kurt shook his head. “That girl better watch herself.”

“I don’t know. I think Rachel may have met her match this time.” Blaine grimaced. “And I get to be there for it all.”

“Okay, enough about Rachel for now. I have something important to share!” Kurt bounced over to their bed, grabbing the shopping bag he’d dropped there that afternoon. “My very first New York clothing purchase!” He pulled out a slim, charcoal blazer studded with fat, silver buttons down the front.

Kurt modeled it for Blaine, laughing as Blaine took a picture with his phone. “Send it to me,” he said, kissing Blaine firmly before walking over to his desk.

“Aren’t you going to come to bed?” Blaine asked. He removed his shoes and peeled off his t-shirt, the long day quickly catching up with him.

“I’m actually going to work on my blog for a little while. I have to write about how I met my first blog reader, and my first shopping trip in New York!” Kurt turned in his chair to face Blaine. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Blaine settled into the pillows, folding his arms behind his head. “We should probably get used to the fact that we’ll be on different schedules once classes start.”

“We’ll always be sure to make time for each other, though.”

“Of course.” Blaine lay in bed, watching Kurt type out his tales of fashion finds and new friends. He smiled softly when Kurt paused for a moment to tuck a long leg under his lap, before his fingers returned to their furious pace across the keyboard.

It had only been a week, but Blaine had already learned to love the little things about living together: these small, quiet moments when he could simply enjoy Kurt’s presence, without having to worry about parents and curfews and the long drive home.

The sound of Blaine’s soft snoring seeped into Kurt’s consciousness as he finished up his last post. Kurt looked over at his boyfriend, a smile spreading over his face as he took in Blaine’s sleeping form. For a split second, Kurt had a wicked thought about pulling out his phone and recording Blaine’s snores for a good laugh in the morning. But then his gaze wandered over to the photo of his mother on the bedside table.

He wondered how it would be if she could see him now. Would she be proud of him – living in New York with Blaine, studying fashion and writing, running his blog?

Kurt got up and padded over to the nightstand, taking the frame in his hands to examine the photo more closely. He’d gazed at this picture hundreds of times now, but it never grew old. He stared deeply into his mother’s big, blue eyes – eyes that perfectly matched his own – as if he was looking to her image for approval.

Of course she would be proud, he told himself confidently. He was happy, and he was doing what he loved. That’s all she’d ever wanted for him: to be himself and to follow his dreams.

He glanced over at Blaine again, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, his face sweet and relaxed in sleep.

Kurt was so thankful his own parents had never made him think he should be someone different: something more traditional, more expected. Not like Blaine’s family.

Kurt looked down at the photo of his mother again. He winked at the beautiful girl, pressing his lips against the glass of the frame before setting the picture back in its place. Then he clicked the lamp off, crawling into bed and curling his body up against Blaine’s in the deep, comforting dark.