Chapter 1

Kurt watched the blonde girl’s back as she walked away.  He just didn’t understand, why hadn’t she fallen for his utterly undeniable charm?  They all did.  Turning back toward the bar, he noticed something on the stool beside him. Perfect. She left her jacket. He had a second chance.  And once Kurt Hummel started something, he had to succeed.  So he grabbed a napkin and scribbled down his own cell phone number, you always had to be prepared after all.  He bent down to grab the girl, Brittany’s (maybe, he wasn’t sure) jacket and his papers and started to run after her.

The best word to describe how Blaine walked into the bar that night would be skulking. Or trudging. Or really anything having to do with sad walking.  A constant stream of Am I an awful person? Do I just suck in bed? Why does nobody like me? was going through his head as he walked through the door.  This depressed mood would probably also explain why he was looking straight at the floor when someone ran into him, knocking him to the floor. 

There were papers everywhere.  He’d managed to lose his glasses too and was completely blind.  He saw the figure of what he assumed to be a man crouching down and hurriedly picking up his own papers.  The other guy was muttering curse words when he finally looked over at Blaine. 

“Oh. Sorry. I guess these are yours,” the other man said as he handed over his glasses.  “Really sorry about that, but I gotta run.”  He stood up just as Blaine slipped on his glasses.  The other boy was tall and thin.  He had light brown hair and some of the most extraordinary eyes Blaine had ever seen.

With an arm full of papers and some jacket that most definitely looked like it belonged to a girl, the other boy started jogging towards the entrance.  “…Oh, uh. You’re good,” Blaine called out, not really expecting an answer. And he didn’t get one.

He looked around at the papers the boy hadn’t grabbed, Blaine’s own school papers. He collected them and stood up.  What Blaine didn’t realize is that he’d taken one thing that hadn’t belonged to him, a certain napkin with a certain number on it, but of course he wouldn’t realize that for a long time to come.

Brittany was laughing. Of course she was. He could always make them laugh.  Why this hadn’t worked the first time around, Kurt had no idea.  “So how about that date?” He put on a grin and she returned the gesture.

Giggling she said, “Yeah, actually, I think that would be nice.”

Thank God. “Okay, what’s your number?”

Brittany rattled off a strand of digits which Kurt took note of on the back of his hand.  He would wash it off later of course, he would never be the one to call. And as always, she would call him, because, well, that’s just how things worked.

“Yours?” She asked.

“Oh, here, I actually have it written down.” He fished around in his pockets with the hand that wasn’t holding his, now jumbled up, papers. Then he realized he’d never actually put the napkin in his pocket.  Maybe it was somewhere in his stack of papers. Nope.

“Um. Or not,” he said. “Here. Um, can you just write it down?”

She nodded and he said, “Okay, it’s 212-569-1885.”

He’d probably dropped the napkin when he’d run into that guy back there. No problem, this could be better anyways. Writing on a napkin could have seemed a little desperate. Kurt must’ve just been really off his game tonight.

She grinned ecstatically at him and said, “Okay, I’ll see you later then, Kurt.”

“Yeah. See ya.”

3 months later

Blaine was going through his backpack for the first time in months.  It was kind of disgusting.  There was a very rotten apple core.  A lot of moldy papers (probably moldy from touching the apple core). Oh, and what was that?  A napkin. A napkin with writing on it.  Blaine couldn’t remember writing on it or ever seeing it before, actually.  Besides it wasn’t in his handwriting. In nice, neat little figures it said 212-569-1885. Nothing else. Huh. Blaine could remember a couple times he’d gotten drunk recently. Maybe a girl had given it to him. HA! Yeah right. He thought. Yeah, okay. Probably not. But there was no reason not to put the number in his phone.  He entered it as “Stranger.” And coincidentally it fell right beneath Santana.

Kurt sat down at the table in the little coffee shop, across from Rachel. 

“So how are things in the soap-opera of Kurt Hummel’s life?”

“I would hardly call it a soap opera, Rachel.” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I most definitely would.  The trials and tribulations of Kurt Hummel’s strange love life.”She said the last part as if she were actually talking on a soap opera.

“No, I don’t think you know what a soap opera is, Rach.  A soap opera consists of people falling in love, only to have their heart broken on the next episode. I don’t let myself get hurt. There is never a next episode. Ever. Only a new series.”

“Okay, Mr. Metaphorical, whatever you say. But anyway how are you?”

 “Eh, alright. The quest to find my stardom as uneventful as ever,” he expressed.  Kurt had been trying to get an audition for a lead role in any play/musical/anything on Broadway for going on a year now.  Currently he played a few minor roles, and even filled in for slightly larger ones when the need arose, but he needed more.  This was what he came to New York for anyways. The lights, the music, the theatre.  Right now, he would just have to deal with his less than fulfilling job at the coffee shop.

“You’ll find something, I know it,” she smiled widely.  “Oh! I wanted to ask you, would you want to help me maybe run some sort of charity fundraising feast or ball thing?  I need some community service work on my résumé and that would work.  Of  course, it wouldn’t have to be anything tremendous, just you know a small thing to help homeless people.”

“Eh…you know I don’t do that kind of thing.” He looked up from his coffee to see her glaring across the table at him.

“You know, Kurt, I truly believe you are a good person, but sometimes it wouldn’t hurt you to give a fuck about other people. It’s always about you! Try caring, a little bit.” With that, she took her coffee and stood up.

“Oh, and we do still have plans tomorrow night. This does not change things. I just think you should reconsider your life a little bit.” And she was gone.

Well that was pleasant. Reconsider my life? What kind of crap is that?

“We need to get drunk,” Blaine was currently sitting on the couch in his shared apartment.

Wes nodded, “Amen to that, my man.”

“I- I’m gonna call her, mannn…”

Blaine and Wes were standing in the bar, Blaine was very intoxicated and Wes was getting there.  Blaine held up his phone in the other boy’s face. “I’m gonna do it!”

“It’s been three months, Blaine, when are you going to get over this?”

“Never.”

Wes shrugged as Blaine walked to the door.  In his state, he needed to quiet down the pounding in his head in order to focus on any conversation.

He went into contacts and attempted to press Santana, and thought that he did when he pulled the phone to his ear.

Kurt was heading for his apartment door, to attend his “night-out” with Rachel, when his phone rang.  He pulled it out and pressed talk.

“Hello?”

The other person started talking, “Listen, Sssssantana,” Kurt had half a mind just to cut the guy off there, but he sounded drunk and what was better than a drunk miscall? “I love you, baby. Annnnd I don’t- I don’t understand why we had to go you know go our o-own ways.  What did I do wrong?” Okay, it sounded like this guy was crying. “I don’t under-understand! Santana?” He sniffed.

“No, this isn’t Santana.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Then, I’m gonna g-“

“No! Wait. You have to tell me. Did you honestly expect that little speech to get this girl back with you?” Kurt walked back to the couch. Rachel could wait, this was an interesting turn of events.

“I don’t know.”

“Listen. I don’t know who you are or why you want this chick back so badly but hear me out. Girls are not going to go for the whole ‘guy begging on his knees’ deal, okay? You have to show some authority. That was just pathetic.”

“Well I don’t know what eeelse to do…”

Oh Lord, Kurt was going to cry for this guy. How could anyone get this desperate? “Okay, so I’m assuming you really like her, right?”

“Nooooo, I lo-“

“Ah! No we don’t use the ‘L’ word.”

“Why not?”

“Because, well, because it puts you too far out there.  You can’t come back after that. Well not undamaged anyways.”

“Who are you?”

“Your guardian angel apparently.”

“Oh…really? I need one of those.”

Then an idea struck Kurt.  Rachel did say that he needed to do some “community service”.

“Hey. So well first of all, what’s your name?”

“I’m not supposed to give my name to strangers.”

“What are we, five? No tell me your name, I’m going to help you.”

“It’s Blaine.”

Okay, Kurt had expected a last name, but he guessed it wasn’t entirely necessary.

“Okay, then, Blaine. I’m going to text you tomorrow, because tonight you obviously don’t seem fit to handle regular human thought, and I’m going to tell you where to meet me.  You’re going to go there. And I’m going to help you get this Santana back, okay?”

“Uuuuum, okay.”

“Okay. Oh, and you more than likely won’t remember this conversation. So just don’t freak out when you get a text from a stranger.” Then he hung up.

What was he doing? Where had this idea even come from? It would give him something to do after all. And who knew? Maybe he could get something in return for his good efforts.