"Okay, so you've got most of your stuff, clothes and pictures and things."

"I know, Dad, I packed it myself."

"The delivery men dropped off your furniture earlier today, and the electricity and water and the phone line, all of that was fixed up yesterday."

"Yes, Dad."

"The place still looks pretty bare though, Kiddo, if you ask me, so maybe you'd want to get some more things to make the place a bit more homey, less like a show room."

"Dad"

"Although maybe it'll be a bit more comfortable once you unpacked your stuff, got your creams and stuff set up in the bathroom and your pictures up..."

"Dad..."

"Unless you're going for some kinda trendy, less-is-more style in here, I don't really know anything about interior decorating so maybe that kinda thing is popular this year, who knows-"

"Dad!"

Burt stopped talking.

"I'm going to miss you too."

Burt took a moment to just look at his son, his little boy who wasn't so little anymore, before taking two large strides forward and wrapping him up in his arms. Kurt may be 23 now, definitely no longer a child, but when Burt held him he still fisted his hands in the back of his Burt's shirt and rested his head on his shoulder and squeezed back as if no time had passed at all since he was a little boy being comforted after falling off his bike and scraping his knee. Burt indulged himself in a long moment of just holding his son before with a deep breath he unwrapped his arms and made himself step back. Kurt's eyes watery and he was biting at his lower lip, something he always did when he was trying to stop himself from crying, but his pale cheeks were rosy and his blue-grey eyes were glistening in a way that had nothing to do with the tears he was trying to keep at bay and everything to do with finally being in a city where he could finally be Kurt Hummel the way that Kurt Hummel was supposed to be.

It would hurt to leave him, but it would be a good kind of pain.

Burt Hummel was never one to mince his words, and was not a fan of long, emotional goodbyes, so he simply looked at his son one more time, stepped forward a pressed a last kiss to the top of his head, breathed in another moment before walking to the door, a last "I love you, Kiddo" ringing out before the door shut behind him.

Once the door was closed behind him, he'd double checked that he had all his stuff and he'd hopped in his taxi to drive to the airport, once he'd spent the couple of hours on the plane running through memories of first words and first steps and holding hands at a funeral and laughing over the dinner table on a Friday night, once he'd arrived home and kissed his wife on the cheek and dumped his bag in his room and walked quietly down the hall to his son's room, once he'd sat on the bed and buried his face a pillow, Burt finally let himself just miss his son.

Kurt was much less reserved about how he was feeling. As soon as the door shut behind his father, he found himself curling up on the floor of his new apartment and cried until his eyes were read and puffy, the tear tracks were drying uncomfortably on his face and the collar of his 'moving in' shirt was damp with tears. And then, Kurt picked himself back up. Yes he missed his family already – he'd said an emotional goodbye to Carole and Finn before he and his father flew out that morning, and Kurt felt like a little part of himself was boarding the plane back to Lima, Ohio with his father, but he couldn't let his homesickness ruin the day that he'd been dreaming about since he first saw 'West Side Story' when he was six and decided he wanted to move there and marry Tony.

True, his dreams hadn't turned out quite the way he had planned; he hadn't moved to the city straight from high school, he hadn't attended NYADA and he hadn't begun to make a name for himself as a new up and coming Broadway star. But so what if he'd gone to Ohio State rather than his dream school and he had studied to be a teacher instead, and who cared is he was moving to New York not to start rushing auditions but to start teaching as the substitute music teacher at a high school in Brooklyn while the woman who normally taught there went on maternity leave? He still done it, he'd still escaped. With the extra money Burt (and now Finn, as well) was making from the new addition of a second 'Hummel's Tire and Lube' in Columbus, his father had insisted on buying him an apartment, so here he was in the perfect two bedroom overlooking the Hudson River. He had the perfect apartment, a job that he was excited to start in four weeks, and he was in the city of his dreams.

Things were finally looking up for Kurt Hummel.

Kurt decided it was high time to begin his New York City life, and that all begins at home; by finally take a look around his apartment. Despite his excitement over the place, he had yet to take a proper look around the place, so he cast his eyes around the room he was standing in. The entrance to his apartment lead straight into the living area: wooden floor that Kurt's fashion-conscious eye definitely approved of and a soft rug spread in front of a beautiful white leather sofa. A matching arm chair sat in the corner of the room next to a wooden bookshelf that Kurt could tell would give the room the perfect touch once he'd filled it, just the right edge of scholarly comfort. But the piece de resistance was the wall to ceiling window, over-looking the Hudson River and with a breathtaking view of the city, Kurt envisioned rearranging the armchair so that it angled out the window rather than into the room, and imagining himself curled up in the chair with a book, watching the sunset, made a smile bloom across his face. This was it; this was the life that he'd always wanted to live.

With one last smile out the window, Kurt turned back to look at the rest of his apartment. The living room back onto a kitchen, that erred on the side of small but still had plenty of room for him to cook, one his favourite past times, and a breakfast bar and stools made out of a beautiful oak wood. A corridor leads off behind the kitchen, with a door on each side and one at the end. Sticking his head round the door on the left, which was apparently the bathroom. White tile floors, a white porcelain sink and toilet, and a white shower. A small cabinet hung above the sink, with just enough room for his moisturisers and skin care products. It wasn't ideal, but it was still pretty great for an apartment in New York, where Kurt knew many people lived in poxy one bedroom apartments with mould on the walls and cabinets falling straight off the walls.

Kurt left the room to check out the last two: the bedrooms. The room on the right was a nice, if rather small, bedroom with a large bed and what looked to be a comfortable mattress, small chest of drawers and even smaller wardrobe. The room's window, however, shared the view from the living room, and the sun shone down on New York as if it was greeting him.

With only one room left, even though the view had been stunning Kurt found himself hoping that the final bedroom would be better than the first.

He wasn't disappointed. A large double bed with a high mattress that was luxuriously soft-but-firm, thick duvet and pillows and a beautiful headboard that gave Kurt a new appreciation for interior design, Kurt full out grinned. It was perfect. Letting himself take in the rest of the room, he saw a chest of drawers that he wasn't crazy about, but had already planned on swapping for his mother's vanity regardless, and a large wardrobe that had Kurt nearly drooling. And was that... Yes! A door next to the wardrobe lead back into a cute bathroom, complete with plenty of shelf space for his products and a bath that Kurt was already picturing himself relaxing into after a long day at work.

All in all, the apartment was exquisite. He allowed himself a moment to squeal with excitement and joy, before turning back into the main part of the apartment to begin unpacking. He couldn't wait a moment longer.

Finally, five hours later as the sun is beginning to set, Kurt curls up in his new armchair and watches his first New York sunset. He can feel his exhaustion setting in, but there's no way he's wasting his first night in his new city sleeping. His first extinct is to just order take out and sit at home – start as you mean to go on – but he wants to do something more. Something New York. If he was still in contact with Santana Lopez, he knew what she'd suggest: hit up the first gay club he can find, drink until he's numb and take someone home with him to fuck until morning. But just because he's in a new place doesn't mean he ought to change himself, in fact he thought it should mean quite the opposite. He'd managed to stay true to himself all throughout his hellish years in Ohio, there was no way he was changing himself now. And Kurt Hummel didn't go clubbing alone, didn't drink much more than the occasional glass with dinner (he still hadn't fully recovered from his experience with alcohol in high school) and Kurt Hummel, regardless of everything that had happened over the past few years, still believed in romance. He was by no means still the nervous boy who thought that a touch of the fingertips was as sexy as you could get, and he had indulged in the occasional fling throughout his college career, but one night stands weren't his thing, and even if they were, that wasn't the sort of memory he wanted for his first night in his new home. No, there was no other option: a stroll through the streets at dusk, a quick stop for food somewhere, and maybe keeping his eyes peeled for somewhere nearby that he would be able to get his daily caffeine fix.

He hopped out of the chair before his lethargy reappeared and hurried into his new bedroom to change out of his 'moving in' clothes into the perfect 'first night in New York' outfit. Whilst Kurt didn't dress quite as outlandishly as he had in high school, fashion was still important to him, so he spent a good while in the mirror checking he looked acceptable before heading out the door. Once he was satisfied that his hair was quaffed to perfection and his rich purple button up and black fitted jeans were sitting correctly, he slipped into a pair of black Doc Martens, a dark purple tweed blazer – something he'd originally turned his nose up at but after trying it one found it fitted like it was made with him in mind, broadening his shoulders even further and slimming his waist so he looked like a model after the picture has been airbrushed – and headed out the door, slipping his phone and wallet into his jeans pocket (a tight squeeze, but something he'd perfected over the years). He was ready.

Just walking the streets gave him a thrill like nothing he'd experienced in his life so far, and he'd walked all round the block before he'd realising it, time passing swiftly as he allowed himself to simply take in the scenes around him. He even relished the people hurrying down the street along with him, barely blinking twice when someone knocked into him because he adored that the shoulder check was entirely accidental, and the culprit hadn't blinked twice at him. It was everything he'd hoped it would be. His stomach gurgling in hunger, however, was not a part of his New York fantasy, and he knew that after not having eaten since breakfast in Lima that morning – it seemed an eternity ago – he would need to eat soon before his stomach staged a revolution. Just as he was thinking that he would stop at the first restaurant he saw, price be damned, he heard soft music coming from the side street he had just walked past.

Intrigued, he turning back on himself and followed the noise, finding himself at a poky cafe with bad pictures of all the food items on display next the description and bored looking waitresses weaving their way through the crowds of people staring at something at the back of the room. He crinkled his nose in distaste as he scanned the menu, above the counter, but he hadn't come for the quality of the food, he came for the music, so he ordered himself what looked to be the safest choice – a grilled ham and cheese sandwich, more grease than he'd normally allow himself but much more appealing than anything else that was pictured above the cashier's head. Taking his food, he slipped into a chair at the back of the cafe and began slowly nibbling on his dinner.

He looked up to scan the room just as somebody standing in front of the makeshift stage at the back, and his eyes widened as he took in the man sitting on a stool in a poor-quality spotlight, his head bowed a mop of curly dark brown hair covering his face as he crooned out the words to a song that Kurt hadn't recognised until now.

"I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece, I'm complete, let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love..."

Kurt stilled for a moment as he listened to the painful sweet rendition of the pop song that had been popular while he was in high school, and he found himself abandoning his food all together as he watched the man sing. And if Kurt's breath caught when the singer looked out into the audience and he was able to see those beautiful caramel coloured eyes, who could blame him? Kurt assured himself that he stayed long past his food going cold to appreciate the music, not the beauty of the musician, and if he was watching him a little more closely than normal for cafe entertainment, he certainly wasn't the only one; the singer seemed to have nearly every girl, and a few of the guys as well, ready to crawl at his feet by the time he had moved on to an acoustic version of Usher's 'scream' that was both sexy and desperately romantic – a hard feat for a song that was about pure sex.

Finally the man stopped singing, said goodbye to the audience in a voice that was every bit as smooth and gorgeous as his singing voice, and left the stage, eliciting sounds of protest from the crowd. Kurt pulled himself together, double checked that his money and phone were still in his pocket – he'd heard New York City pick pocket horror stories – and turned to leave...

Only to bump straight in to somebody as they both reached for the door.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Kurt cried, turning to apologise again to the man he'd just pretty much assaulted, and his eyes widened as he took in the man in front of him. He was a couple of inches shorter than Kurt, but up close his eyes were even more breathtaking, with flawless tanned skin, a jaw bone to die for, gorgeous curly hair and oh God the way he smelled...

"Sorry!" Kurt yelped again, as he realised he was standing way too far into his personal space and that definitely wasn't acceptable even in New York, but the man was grinning – and shit he looked even better with his smile crinkling up the corner of his eyes.

"No, no, don't worry about it, I wasn't looking where I was going. You clearly had the right of way" the man joked, and Kurt tried to pretend he didn't swoon. They stood, staring at each other for a moment, each man breathing quietly and holding eye contact in a way that burned gloriously. The singer opened his mouth, and Kurt his breathe, when suddenly his phone was vibrating in his pocket, and the moment was gone. 'Dad' was flashing on the phone screen and Kurt was eager to hear his father's voice even after having only been parted from him for about nine hours. He lifted the phone to his ear, said a quick "Hey Dad, hold on a moment" before turning back to the singer.

"You sounded great tonight" he smiled and the curly haired man returned it, looking bashfully at the ground.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you to say."

"No problem," Kurt reached out once more to open the door, and this time there was no handsome stranger to get in his way, "Have a good night."

As he walked out onto the street, turning right to head back to the main road and find his way back to his apartment, returning his attention to his father and he began to tell him all about decorating the apartment and his first day in the city. As he turned back onto the main street he turned back behind him, just for a moment, but the singer was nowhere to be seen. Kurt pushed it out of his mind and carried on back towards his new home, listening fondly to his dad tell him about an incident that had happened over dinner that night, involving Finn and a carton of eggs. He laughed along with his Dad and wrapped himself in the sound of his voice.