Kurt's POV:

Dear  Kurt Hummel,

You are invited to attend the McKinley High School, Class of 2012 reunion.

The celebrations will take place on Friday, May 20th at McKinley High School, Lima.

RSVP: Principle Figgins: gettingfiggywithit@hotmail.com

Plus one’s accepted.

I turn the invitation over in my hands. I must read each word a thousand times now. But still, every word provokes a higher sense of panic. Oh well, maybe he won’t come...maybe he won’t come. I keep telling myself this over and over again. I don’t know why, maybe I’m hoping that if I say it enough it’ll come true; like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I smooth my hand over the soft cotton of my duvet cover, clutching slightly at the folds, hoping it will calm me down. But it doesn’t. As long as I’m alone, I will never be calm about tonight.

And – as if I’d shouted my last thought from the rooftop – the dainty sound of the doorbell rang in the living room above me. I glance up, debating whether I can be bothered to answer it. But before I come to the conclusion that I probably should, someone does it for me. I stand up as I hear the murmur of familiar voices. Even though I’ve been expecting them, their voices still shock me somewhat.

“So he’s downstairs?”

“Thanks, Mr Hummel.”

Then the door to my basement bedroom creaked open and two sets of footsteps flutter excitedly down the stairs. How can they be this excited?

“Ku-urt!” Rachel’s high voice practically sung my name as if she were practicing for opening night, “You down here?”

Deep breath. “Of course I am!” I chime back with false excitement. I don’t think they noticed – or at least they chose not to. As their footsteps draw to a close, I turn to face them with a smile.

“Boy, how can you get ready without any music on?” Mercedes hasn’t changed in the slightest. I take a moment before I replicate the sceptical look she’s throwing my way.

“I wasn’t getting ready,” I begin, “I was waiting for you two to get here!”

Then I notice that both girls are wearing bath robes. Rachel’s hair is in rollers and neither of them are wearing makeup. I’ve never kept my view that neither of these girls need makeup quiet – but they’ve always defied my judgement.

“Before you ask, yes we did get a lot of strange looks coming over here.” Rachel must have seen me appraising their outfits.

“Especially as someone insisted on walking here.” Mercedes rolls her eyes in Rachel’s direction.

Before Rachel could continue the argument that they’d no doubt had on the way over, I offer them a glass of the champagne my dad and Carole had bought me. They both agree.

When I come back from fetching the bottle and three glasses, I see that my room has been transformed into something that resembles the backstage area at my last runway show. Rachel is putting the finishing touches to what appears to be the hair station. Mercedes has just come out from behind the screen I keep in here - I’m guessing we’ll change behind that. My desk has been moved in front of my mirror, and my books and fashion magazines have been replaced by various different makeup and moisturising products.

“How long was I up there?” I ask glancing warily towards the stairs, slightly scared by how quickly my room had been transformed.

Both girls just laugh at my surprised and scared look. I set the glasses down on top of the free-standing stereo – aka they only surface not covered in beauty products – and uncork the champagne. I hand each of them a glass of the supermarket’s finest after I fill it.

“To old friends,” Rachel toasts.

“Old friends,” Mercedes and I reply over the sound of clinking glasses.

Before I’d finished my first sip, my phone buzzes from my bedside table. Frowning slightly at the name on the caller ID, I accept the call.

“James? What’s wrong?” I ask. I told him to call me if anything happened at work: that’s the only reason he’d call me right?

“Well ‘hello’ to you too, Kurt.” A calm laugh answers me.

“James, has something happened? Should I come back to New York?” my voice let through a lot more panic than I wanted. Also, a little too eager at the thought of avoiding tonight’s preposterous “celebration”.

“Geez, Kurt. Calm down!” that is the first time I’ve heard James sound commanding. It’s kind of scary, well scary enough for me to obey him anyway, “Nothing has gone wrong.” He reassures me.

I sigh in relief, “Then why are you calling?”

“Umm...well...” every inch of authority has disappeared from James’ voice, “I know that tonight is going to be hard for you, with the reunion and all. So, I thought I’d let you know that I’m here for you if you need to talk. Even if it’s 4am and you can’t remember your address.”

We both chuckle quietly at the memory, “Wow,” I was not expecting that, “thank you.”

“I mean it.”

“I should go,” I say as I feel two pairs of eyes burning into my back, reminding me of my company.

“Okay. Good luck.”

I put the phone back on my bedside table and turn to face the eyes that are tightly trained on my face.

“Boy, you have a helluva lot of explaining to do.”

Blaine's POV:

“Good morning sleepy-head.”

I want to respond with words, but all I manage is a short groan. I want to tell Drew “Alarm Clock” Phillips to leave me for at least another 5 minutes, but instead I settle for waving my arms like a frightened sloth.

“Ow!”

I guess I hit him. Good, shouldn’t wake me up. Then the further I move into consciousness, the more I remember about yesterday; how nice he was. I guess I should make the effort.

I coax my eyes open and am momentarily blinded by the warm light. As my vision focuses, I pick out Drew’s broad body standing by the bed and blocking half of the window. Even though Drew’s hand is cupping his cheek, a giant smile illuminates the rest of him. Ah man, I hit him in the face.

Without a second thought I grab his light grey t-shirt and pull him down to my level. Locking one hand in his hair, I press my lips firmly to his.

“What was that for?” He asks breathlessly, when I release him. His dark green eyes stare straight into my hazel ones, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

I regain my composure and smile, “For being you.”

He lifts his head and presses his lips to my forehead. I’ve changed my mind about this way of waking up.

Then Drew ruins the moment by pulling away and rising to his feet. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he teases as his hand traces his cheek again, “time to wake up.”

“I can think of better things to do.” I flirt, completely astounded by how confident I’m being.

He raises an eyebrow, “With your little sister in the next room? Real classy, Anderson.”

Then I’m reminded of where I am. I’m not in my home in San Francisco, but in my parents’ house in Ohio. If that isn’t bad enough, I have a reunion to go to. Joy.

And, as if Drew knew what I had just remembered, he touches my arm. “How about we check out that coffee place you were so excited about? What’s it called? ‘The Lima Pod’?”

I chuckle at Drew’s cluelessness, “The Lima Bean? Sure. Actually that sounds wonderful.”

Kurt's POV:

The conversation about James hadn’t lasted long: but it still went on way longer than necessary. It took a lot of convincing but I managed to persuade them that James and I are just friends; and no I don’t think anything else will happen. It reminded me of so many conversations I’d had with these girls when we were in high school. I sigh: nothing has changed.

Rachel is now in the process of telling Mercedes and I how she convinced Mr Schue to let people sing at the reunion tonight. “I’m not sure what I should sing though,” she says in her usual self-absorbed thought, “I mean, I do have over 30 ideas.”

Mercedes and I exchange a glance, “Well maybe narrow it down to 3 then tell us the list,” Mercedes says whilst stifling a laugh.

Rachel sighs angrily and locks herself in the bathroom, leaving Mercedes and I in the bedroom. Drama Queen. Mercedes sits down at the “hair station” and switches on the curling iron.

A short buzz from my bedside table interrupts the silence. I pick up my phone and open the new message.

I mean what I said.

                  -James

Only when I hear Mercedes giggle do I realise I’m smiling like an idiot at the screen. I quickly compose my expression. I don’t want her jumping to even more false conclusions.

I type back a quick “I know. Thanks” and nearly throw the phone on to the bed behind me; anything to distance myself from it.

“So, what did Mr Not-Your-Lover-Boy-So-Back-Off want?” Mercedes giggles.

I throw her a warning look, “Nothing,” I string out the word, pronouncing every syllable, “Gee, what happened to privacy?” By the slight hurt feeling flashing across her face, I realise she didn’t know I was teasing. “Sorry, I meant that differently.”

“Y’know, there was a time we told each other anything and everything.” Well, that quiet remark changes the atmosphere for sure.

“I know. But I haven’t spoken to you in nearly 10 years Mercedes,” her frown tells me that she is just as unhappy about that as I am, “and telling you 10 years worth of anything and everything would take forever.” I smile as I walk over to her. I wrap my arms around her, catching her eye in the mirror.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Blaine's POV:

The Lima Bean has changed about as much as the rest of Ohio. The same magnolia walls with the odd moss green signs, the same table formation, the same everything. Drew and I stand in the queue – it’s so long that we’re practically at the door. I repress all the memories of every time I’ve been here in the past, hoping that I can begin to make new ones. The Lima Bean is full of people, and those of us in the queue shuffle along a few centimetres every couple of minutes.

“This is the famous Lima Bean?” Drew says in his most judgemental and sceptical tone: the same one he’d used when he found my Katy Perry CDs.

I roll my eyes, “I know is doesn’t look like much –“

“It looks like a dentist’s waiting room.”

“- but just wait until you try the coffee.” I wink in his direction.

“Will there be mould in that as well?” Drew says as he slips one arm around my waist and points out a slightly yellow patch on the wall in front of us.

I shush him, trying to stop myself laughing, and turn my head towards his chest. We approach the counter as the waitress flashes us a genuine smile.

“Hello! What can I getcha?” she beams.

“Well at least the staff are nice.” Drew whispers in my ear.

I tap him with the back of my hand to shush him so I can order, “Hi, one Medium Drip and one double-shot vanilla latte please.” Without saying anything Drew’s hand reaches past me and picks up 2 caramel waffles and places them on the counter before exchanging a look with the waitress. “God, he’s like a child sometimes.” I roll my eyes at Drew’s pout before returning myself into his arm.  The waitress stifles a giggle. We tell her our names and she writes each one on a cup and passes our order along.

“No problem guys, your drinks will be ready over there.”

“Thanks...” Drew leans in to read the name tag pinned to her apron pocket, “...Anna.” I can’t help but smile at the simple interchange. I direct the end of my grin at Anna, hoping she’d take that as my ‘thank you’. Drew picks up the waffles pointedly and we walk to the next station to wait for our drinks.

I lean my back on the counter and take in the people going about their everyday business: couples holding hands over the table and gazing into each other’s eyes, friends laughing at something stupid a member of their group had said, and –

“Blaine?” A familiar yet haunting voice knocks me out of my observations, “It’s really you!”

I look up and see a tall, lanky man in a policeman’s outfit. His piercing eyes staring straight at my glazed and surprised expression.

“Honestly Blaine, I don’t know how many more of your stripper friends I can take!” Drew shouts, obviously seeing the uncomfortable shift in my posture and deciding to jump in with his usual defensive humour. I just wish it hadn’t made people turn and look at us.

Sebastian throws a weary glance towards Drew then moves his gaze back to me. I tap Drew’s chest in an attempt to shut him up. “S-Sebastian? Wow. How’ve you been?”

His laugh hasn’t changed in the slightest, “Alright, yeah. What are you up to now?”

“Oh y’know, doing the whole musician thing in San Francisco,” I shrug my shoulders slightly, “What about you: you’re a cop now?”

“Yeah, I sure am,” just as Sebastian begins to launch into a long story about how amazing his job is, Drew coughs, alerting me to his presence.

“Oh sorry, this is Drew. Drew, Sebastian: Sebastian...Drew.” I gesture toward each of them as I say their names.

Drew shoves his hand towards Sebastian. Sebastian copies him slowly and a lot less eagerly.  “Pleasure,” I can’t help but smile at the obviously fake posh accent Drew uses, he’s trying so hard bless him.

Sebastian merely laughs and throws me an “is-he-like-this-all-the-time” look. I honestly wish I could give that a straight answer. Drew takes the hand he just shook Sebastian’s with and places it around my shoulders. Sebastian’s eyes follow his movement, a realisation growing on his face as confusion grows on mine.

“Well, I should get going,” Sebastian says, his voice rough from the silence, “It was nice seeing you, Blaine.” A small nod in Drew’s direction was all he got as a goodbye.

When Sebastian passes the counter and throws our waitress a flirtatious wink – only adding to my confusion.

“High school flame of yours?” Drew’s voice snaps me back into reality.

After a minute of realising what he just asked, I blow a hard breath through my closed mouth vibrating my lips, “Long story.” I say as I collect our drinks.