The shout was from the crowd of people that had formed outside the new store that was opening. The glass doors were firmly closed for the moment but all the merchandise was laid out neatly, the clothes racks built around mannequins wearing the designs straight off the runway. The shop named was written in big silver letters, all lowercase: hummels.

Kurt Hummel was standing next to the closed doors, smiling at the press that had gathered to snap a thousand photographs and the ever growing crowd of fans. He could see the girl who had shouted his name, fighting passed a line of women who had been queuing for hours. She was waving her left hand and trying desperately to get his attention.

This was his second store, larger than the first. Kurt had started his fashion line on the website that Lauren had set up for him back in senior year. Upon his much anticipated move to New York, it had taken a while to open a store that would sell clothes from the website. He’d been forced to take job after job at coffee houses and restaurants like every other struggling actor or musician to cover the differences between his incomings and outgoings.

What had caused his lucky break was a paid internship at Marie Claire. Not only had Kurt gotten steady income for six months, but he’d made an important friend at the magazine. A friend who’d only been too happy to write a piece about hummels and had sighted Kurt as a new and fresh face amongst the designers for young men.

After the article was published in Marie Claire, Kurt’s small store in a quiet street far away from the fashion district in New York had exploded with customers. He’d been invited to showcase a line, which he’d proudly named after his store, at a fashion show for upcoming designers. And Kurt Hummel had been named the best of the lot.

By his friend at Marie Claire, he’d been encouraged to put on a fashion show of his own clothes rather than part of a larger group. This was about a year after the first show and he’d been overwhelmed at the amount of people who had wanted to come and see his second line, a line he’d name ‘k.h.’. Anna Wintour, the editor of Vogue and probably the most influential person in fashion, had been invited and an article on the show had appeared in the following edition of Vogue, accompanied by an interview with the designer himself. From that point, it was expected that Kurt Hummel, who was definitely a household name, open up his second store.

“Kurt this way.” A photographer shouted, drawing the young designer out of his musings of the past and into the present. He turned to look into the camera lens and smiled, one hand resting on the handle of the glass door to his store.

The second hand on the big clock temporarily erected by Tina and Rachel moved ever closer to eleven o’clock.

“Kurt I think I’m your soul mate!” The girl yelled louder than before. She’d managed to break through the queue of women but the rope barrier stopped her from moving forward. She’d leant far over the barrier, holding onto a gold plated post to keep her balance. She’d thrust her left arm out, her palm stretched wide open.

Without even properly acknowledging her, Kurt said: “I’m flattered but your soul mate is out there.” Photographers snapped their cameras excitedly, documenting every syllable of the exchange. “I haven’t found my soul mate yet.”

The clock on the pavement read eleven o’clock. As if a bell had rung, the crowd went silent as they waited on bated breath to hear what the young designer had to say before he opened the store.

Kurt addressed the crowd of shoppers, made up of both women and men. For a moment, he revelled in their stares. They were here for his clothes, had been standing outside for hours to be the first people to buy from his store. He could hardly believe that his every dream had come true. At least, every dream after he’d given up on his Broadway dreams.

“I just want to thank everyone for coming out today.” He said. His voice projected perfectly over the crowd. Rachel would be proud. “I’m so pleased that I can open up this store for you. I’ve come so far in the past few years and that’s been because of all of you.”

Kurt reached out with his free hand and slid the key into the lock, turning it a quarter turn to the left to open the glass front doors.

“So welcome to hummels.”

--

The name scarred on Kurt’s left palm had appeared when he was thirteen. It had begun to develop at the same time everyone else’s had. As such, there was so much excitement from all around that the fact that Kurt Hummel’s soul mate was a boy didn’t gain much attention for a while.

A name of someone’s soul mate appeared on a person’s left palm during puberty, written in the hand writing of the soul mate. It could happen at any point and would often take a few days for the full name to appear. The names were always scarred over the heart line on the palm. That was actually the origin on the name of that particular crease. It was also the reason why wedding rings were worn on the left hand. Left for love.

The last name of Kurt’s soul mate developed first. He’d woken up on a dreary winter Tuesday morning to see three red letters proudly marring his otherwise pale palm: a capital A, a lowercase e and a lowercase r. Two days later, Kurt could read Anderson in the red handwriting of his soul mate.

It was another three days before the first name fully appeared. During that time, Kurt had spent many a boring moment in class doodling different combinations of his name and his soul mate’s surname. Kurt Anderson. Kurt Anderson-Hummel. Kurt Hummel-Anderson. For him, the last one simply flowed better but he could discuss it at length with his soul mate when they decided to double barrel their surnames.

When he woke up on the Sunday of that week, weather still as grey and miserable as ever, Kurt’s eyes had shot straight to his palm like they’d been doing for the past five days. And to his delight, the seven letters that had been taking their time to develop were scarred in their proper place. Kurt could read the name of his soul mate for the first time.

Blaine Anderson.

Kurt wasn’t surprised at the appearance of a boy’s name. He’d known he wouldn’t end up with a Sarah or an Elizabeth since he’d understood what the names on people’s palms meant. He hadn’t told his father or anyone at school yet and knew that at some point in the next few days, the knowledge that Kurt Hummel had a boy’s name on his palm would spread around the school.

Soul mates were soul mates. People were destined to be together despite the gender. It didn’t stop the teasing though and in the past, men and women who had a name of someone of their own gender would be attacked or tortured or killed for the names on their palms that they had no control over. In the present, there was far more tolerance but Kurt wouldn’t get through the last months of middle school and high school without something being said and done to him.

Kurt passed his thumb over the red marks on his hand. He’d worry about that on Monday. Maybe no one would notice the complete name and it wouldn’t go around the school for a while. Maybe his dad would forget to ask if Kurt’s name had finished appearing: which wasn’t likely as Burt had asked every morning since Kurt had rushed down to breakfast to show the scarring A, e and r that had appeared earlier in the week.

For now he turned over in his bed and cradled his left palm in his right hand. Kurt and Blaine, he thought, smiling to himself as he burrowed under the covers. Blaine and Kurt. He liked the sound of their names together.

--

Nine years later and Kurt sat at the large drawing desk he’d brought from the first store to sit in the much larger office in his second store. He was staring down at the pink scarred letters that crossed his palm.

Blaine Anderson. He’d never even met the man. Kurt had known a lot of Andersons; there had been a few in McKinley over the four years he’d gone to high school and then a few more he’d met during all eight jobs and his internship at Marie Claire. Just over half had been men and none of them had been named Blaine.

He had a multitude of people claiming to be his soul mate though. He never released Blaine’s name to the press: only his closest friends knew who Kurt’s soul mate was. People would scream that they were his soul mate, much like that girl had screamed earlier, but they’d never scream that they were Blaine.

After the very first fashion show, Kurt had been cornered by one of the men he’d seen watching the show. The man, much taller than Kurt, blonde and very good looking, had thrust his hand into Kurt’s face. A shaky and crudely written ‘Kurt Hummel’ had been drawn on his palm. Completely out of his depth, Kurt had backed away with his eyes wide and almost sprinted to where his family were waiting for him.

That man had been the first and certainly not the last of fans claiming to be the soul mate of Kurt Hummel.

“Knock knock.” Tina’s voice broke through Kurt’s musings as she stood in the open doorway, a pile of folders and loose papers in her hand. Kurt smiled when he saw her, an invitation for her to come inside, and reached out to grab the red knitted glove he had been wearing before he’d sat staring at Blaine’s name for a while.

He always made a point of wearing gloves, mostly fingerless, when in front of the cameras. He didn’t want a persistent photographer to accidently snap a photo that would reveal Blaine’s name to the public. Then he’d have everyone claiming to be Blaine and Kurt would never find him.

“Have you noticed that most of the people who claim they’re my soul mate are women?” Kurt asked conversationally as Tina took a seat in one of the rolling chairs dotted around the room.

She nodded and used her feet to propel her closer to where Kurt was seated. At the last minute, she grabbed a pen from the unused computer desk. Tina had moved to New York after Kurt had opened up his store, on his request. They’d made all their competition costumes together in the choir room and both of their living rooms and when Kurt had been invited to put together the hummels line for the newcomer’s fashion show, Tina Cohen-Chang had been the only other person Kurt would let sew and stitch his outfits together.

Now, she was his assistant in everything and basically ran the day to day workings of the company for him. Mike, Tina’s soul mate who she’d met in high school, had moved with her after he’d completed his degree the previous year. That was the advantage of a soul mate: you knew that they’d wait for you no matter the time or distance.

“For fashionable women,” she replied, resting all files and papers over the open sketchbook Kurt had been working in, “they have absolutely no gaydar.”

They shared a smile. Tina knew the name that was scarred on Kurt’s palm. As did Rachel, struggling to find a role on Broadway as she navigated through all the other talented girls from the Midwest just like herself. She’d gotten into NYADA and had passed all classes with flying colours but out in the real world, experience stood over education in too many instances.

“I need your signature on these, Kurt.” Tina tapped the top pages with the pen, taking off the lid before she handed it to Kurt, “and you need to read through the resumes underneath. I’ve marked out the ones who actually have potential but there’s one or two that you might be interested in to train up to make clothes like only you and me can.”

Kurt nodded and pulled the papers towards him. They fell off the top file and landed on the pencils left out the previous day. One rolled to the floor and landed with a soft thud. Kurt’s eyes skimmed quickly over the forms; one for the authorisation for the website to be restyled to match his new store’s interior design and the other for photographs of his clothes to be shown in an upcoming InStyle issue. He scribbled his signature on both and Tina whipped them away as soon as the pen nib had left the page.

“What’s it like?” He asked after a moment. He pulled all twenty resumes closer, lifting them off the table and settling them on top of his crossed legs. Tina made a confused noise and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. “To have Mike. What’s it like to have found your soul mate.”

It was a question he’d asked over and over. Tina was the only person Kurt’s age who had found her soul mate and who lived within regular talking distance. Mercedes had found her Sam Evans at the same time as Tina had connected with Mike but she was living in LA as she desperately tried to get a recording contract. Rachel had dated Kurt’s step-brother Finn for a long time but neither of them were soul mates, despite how they acted around each other.

“It’s like-” Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Tina pause and think of a description of what being connected to your soul mate was like, “-coming home. Coming home and knowing that whatever happens, you’ll have that home.”

That was a new description. Previous descriptions Tina had given Kurt about being connected to your soul mate had included finding the other half of yourself, knowing that you can just love and be loved no matter the circumstances, sheer perfection, like being surrounded by love all the time. All things that Kurt wished every day he could have already.

Wow, this girl is studying at Parsons and worked at InStyle last year he thought, pointedly ignoring the look Tina was giving him. He flicked to the next resume, which wasn’t one that Tina had marked with a bright yellow circle around the name, and immediately took that one out of the pile. No previous experience at any type of drawing and Kurt needed someone who could be trusted to draw exactly what he needed to send to the manufacturers.

Tina reached out and rested a hand on Kurt’s wrist. She turned his hand over so that if he hadn’t been wearing gloves, Blaine’s name would be right before his eyes. “You’ll find your Blaine soon, Kurt. Don’t ever worry about that. How can you not: you’re too amazing not to find your soul mate.”

Kurt laughed appreciatively at that and looked down at the resumes again. He could only hope so.