Martin loved his job.

He was stationed behind his kiosk and still playing when the resident of 1602 came striding towards the glass doors, striking in form-fitting black pants, multi-buckled boots (whose soles added at least two inches of height to his slender frame), red cashmere jacket with various black accouterments, and black scarf artfully draped and slung in such a way that made the man look effortlessly chic. His brunette hair, although gelled, was being tousled by the wind as he made is way from his cab to Martin, who was already offering the man’s mail and a smile as he opened the door.

Kurt Hummel never waited for anything.

Kurt’s head was fuzzy from wine and music, his ears still echoing with the bass beat thumping club speakers. Still he smiled at Martin and accepted his letters with a sleepy yawn.

“All alone again this evening, Mr. Hummel?” Martin intoned, closing out the wind and smiling at Kurt with a knowing wink.

Kurt laughed and nodded, this conversation a retread of countless inquiries over the past three years. He knew the man well and accepted his inquiry as nothing more than good-natured and so replied, “Oh, you know me, Martin. No one is ever good enough for Kurt Hummel.”

Martin laughed and grinned, shaking his head as Kurt made his way past the concierge desk and into the elevator vestibule. He watched as the handsome young man entered the waiting lift and returned to his game as the doors closed with a whoosh behind him. Martin really did enjoy Kurt the most of all the residents here and paused a moment to wish for his happiness before returning to his mindless game.

***

Kurt sighs as he fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks his elegantly inlaid door. He is exhausted from dancing for hours, imbibing a little too much wine, and laughing endlessly with some of the most wonderful men and women we has ever met.

His apartment is decorated in striking blacks, whites, and reds in a sparse yet elegant way and the walls are accented with various pieces of art. Kurt smiles to himself as he makes his way through his darkened apartment, boots clicking on the hardwood floor as he reaches his single bedroom. He shrugs out of his scarf and jacket and places them delicately on a chaise lounge to the left of the door. Kurt sleepily eases onto the corner of his bed, bending down to unbuckle and unsnap his boots and sighs in contentment at the release of his aching feet.

I love my boots but it is soooo nice to be home, he thinks. He is loose and sated, having cornered that delectable blond in the mahogany bathroom of the club, hands curled in the man’s hair as his lips harshly whispered in Kurt’s ear.

“It’s your birthday, huh? Let me give you something for that...” as he sank to his knees in front of Kurt. Not too bad for an impromptu hookup after a long night of grinding on the exclusive club’s dance floor; theater colleagues whooping and twirling around him. A flashing, chanting, whirlwind of light. Who cares if his actual 30th birthday wasn’t for another week and it would be celebrated in Lima, Ohio, population: close minded? He wasn’t going to tell the blond that.

Kurt silently strips, dropping his clothes to the floor, ignores his skin care regime (just one night won’t kill me, he thinks) and slips quickly between the softness of his 500-thread count sheets.

Life has been so good to me, he thinks before drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

***

Kurt had arrived in New York City twelve years earlier, Burt Hummel puffing and wheezing up the Marymount Manhattan College dormitory steps. He was laboring under a chest filled with Kurt’s boots.

“Do you really think you needed to pack all your boots, kid?” he complained as he took a break on the landing, mopping his brow.

“How exactly did you want me to pull of New York attire without them, dad?” Kurt retorted, eyebrow arched but wearing an elated smile.

Kurt was excited - no, ECSTATIC to finally be in New York. Free of Lima. Free of jocks that hit and looks that kill. He was finally in a place where he could choose to stand out or blend in, depending on the situation. A place where he could pursue his dreams without being made to feel a fool. Kurt had felt like he could breathe for the first time.

Breathe he did as he made his way through college, discovering work as a print model and dating - DATING! - for the first time. Through his work and time in the theater department he came to appreciate and actually accept his pale skin and lithe features. He opened himself up to new experiences and enjoyed a string of lovers by the end of his sophomore year; learning, touching, exploring. In this he became a sexual creature and enjoyed the frenzy and excitement of sexual intimacy although he never grew too close to any of them, chalking it up to the crazy schedule that was his life.

Kurt was not afraid to use his assets to his advantage and thus he blossomed and grew into his own and, upon graduating, found himself working off and then on Broadway in many shows over the next four years. He was never a principal cast member, but always happy to be working and thriving in a profession he loved so much.

Around the age of 25 he started to itch to try something new and different and so he began spending more time in the costume department of his current musical. Watching. Learning. He enrolled in night classes at his Alma mater an earned a certificate in costuming. His connections in the city had grown and his personality paved the way for what was to come. Attention, his first show as the costume designer, a Tony nomination (the youngest in Tony history), a foray into set design, and finally a draft for a new musical, recently purchased and being discussed for an off-Broadway run.

Kurt Hummel has done well for himself. He told himself this on the mornings where he felt like his head had just hit the pillow before he was running again. When his fingers were raw from cutting and pinning and marking last minute set pieces before a show, and when he found himself alone on holidays where he just couldn’t make it back to Ohio. He told himself that when he saw friend after friend succumb to the allure of monogamy.

Kurt told himself he didn’t need it.

But the itch...it was there.