Kurt sat in his usual seat, in front of the window in the Lima Bean, with his non-fat mocha, flipping through the latest issue of Vogue after school. His day had been okay until Karofsky and his gang of Neanderthal followers had given him a slushie facial between 5th and 6th period, and the stains weren’t going to come out of his new Alexander McQueen shirt. He couldn’t let his dad find out, the shirt was a birthday present from him, and he’d know that this wasn’t the first time, nor was it the worst of it, so he’d have to buy another. The bullying had gotten worse since the beginning of his junior year -Kurt was at the end of his senior year- and he’d simply had enough. He’d had enough of the teachers not caring, of Karofsky and Azizmo and the rest of the jocks thinking they had the right to make him feel like crap every day, of the whole student body of McKinley just watching when he got pushed into a locker, or chucked into a dumpster, or a slushie got thrown in his face. He hated that they made him feel this angry, but he had been passive about it all, keeping his witty and inventive –if he may say so himself- comebacks to himself in fear of one of them beating the crap out of him, which was why he was glad to be getting out of small-minded Lima, to the bright lights of New York City in a couple of months. He had his NYADA audition in a week, and he needed to nail his audition song by then.
He took the last sip of his coffee, but with all the thinking he’d been doing, he was only halfway through his Vogue, so he stood up and walked up to the counter for another, being served instantly as there was no queue yet. He thanked the barista, returned to his seat, and started flicking through Vogue again; head clear of any thoughts which were not about the latest Alexander McQueen lines.
“Kurt, that you?” Burt yelled as soon as Kurt walked through the door.
“Yeah it’s me Dad!” Kurt replied.
He was only half an hour later than normal, but with what happened to Quinn a few months ago, Burt was on edge more than most, because he lost Kurt’s mother, Elizabeth, in an accident when Kurt was 8, and he couldn’t cope with losing both his wife and son in car accidents.
Kurt walked up the stairs to his room, hung his bag on the back of his door, and plugged his IPod into the speakers. He had his NYADA audition to practice for.
A week of slushies, dumpster tosses and locker shoves later, Kurt was standing backstage waiting to be called for his audition, when Rachel ran up to him.
“Rachel, what are you doing? Your audition’s after mine, you should in your dressing room practicing or something! Go! Shoo!” Kurt whispered.
“Kurt, it’s important! I was sitting in the audience with Mr. Schue, waiting for you to perform because I don’t need any more practice; I’ve been practicing since I was two, when the NYADA scout walked in. And who is it? Carmen Tibedeau.” Rachel explained.
“Wait, what?! Are you kidding me Rach? She’s well known for…” Kurt was cut off by a voice from in front of the stage, and Rachel ran to sit back down.
“Kurt Hummel.”
“Come on Kurt.” Kurt whispered, panicking, before stepping out on stage for the most important audition of his life so far.
“Hello, my name is Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be singing Not The Boy Next Door from the Peter Allen bio-musical The Boy From Oz.”
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August
Kurt and Rachel were stood in Grand Central Station, holding their suitcases and staring out onto the busy street.
“We’re finally here to stay. After everything that’s happened, I never thought we’d both get here Rach, but here we are, New York City, with our own apartment, places in the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, away from Ohio. We did it.” Kurt said, smiling.
“We did. I’m glad you’re here with me, it’s a dog-eat-dog world in NYADA, and I need someone to tell me how good I am, and I don’t think I’ll find anyone who appreciates my talent just as much as you.” Rachel replied. Kurt rolled his eyes, used to his best friend’s insanity.
“Come on Rach, we better hail a cab to the apartment, we need to start unpacking before tomorrow, and then we need to buy what we don’t have. Like china and cutlery and food!” He emphasized the last word, know that the thought of food could get Rachel to do just about anything, and he was right, as she ran into the middle of the street, luckily hailing a cab almost immediately. Through the typical New York traffic, they got to their apartment in a surprisingly short time. Kurt paid the driver whilst Rachel got their suitcases out of the boot, and they made their way up the seven lots of stairs to their apartment. On the inside, their apartment wasn’t that big, but it was right for them. Honestly, they were really lucky to get their place, it was only 3 streets away from the Gershwin, there was a subway station round the corner which could take them to near NYADA, and there was a delightful coffee store next door, which was perfect for Kurt. They unlocked the door to their new apartment, set their luggage down and stood to take in their surroundings. Of course they’d already looked around when they went to buy it, but Burt had borrowed a truck and brought most of their things to the apartment the day before they arrived, so the pair would have less stress, and he had put the boxes in the right rooms for them.
“No rest for the wicked. We better start unpacking. Kitchen first?” Kurt sighed. He was tired, but he wanted to get at least the kitchen and his room sorted before this evening, he needed to eat, and he needed to do his nightly skin care routine.
“Okay then.” Rachel said after a breath. “Where’s the boxes?”
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Two hours later, the kitchen was organised (minus the china and extra cutlery they needed to buy) and Kurt had finished organising his room. Rachel hadn’t, so he assumed she had gotten distracted by an old photo of her and Finn or something, so went to the coffee store for his non-fat mocha, hoping it would be as good as -or better than- the Lima Bean’s.
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September
Kurt and Rachel stood at the doors of NYADA, revelling in the feeling of success.
“We’re here. Finally, we’re where we belong. No more slushies or being shoved into lockers. This is it.” Kurt said with a dazed smile.
“Where my, I mean, our brilliance can shine.” Rachel agreed, with the same stunned expression on her face.
Their thoughts were interrupted by Kurt’s phone beeping with a ‘good luck’ message from his father and Carole.
“Oof, sorry!” a voice said, as it knocked into Kurt, causing him to drop him phone on the ground.