There were few things in life that Kurt Hummel wasn't used to getting. In fact, growing up, Burt made sure that his son was always comfortable and never went without something he wanted. It was nice, Kurt decided, having a father so generous and loving. Which is why the transition to New York did not bode over well with Kurt in the slightest. Blaine and Rachel seemed perfectly fine with settling for a living condition of lesser quality while Kurt constantly griped about the wall color or the kitchen countertops.

Because Kurt Hummel was not used to "settling".

This thought crossed Kurt's mind when he returned to New York from Ohio on the day after Christmas. He walked through the apartment door, sneering at the stained carpet and lumpy futon while Blaine simply shrugged off his coat and stepped out of his shoes.

"Home, sweet home, huh?" He grinned lopsidedly as Kurt released an unamused groan.

Kurt was beginning to wonder if his perpetually sour mood would ever wear off. It seemed impossible to keep high spirits when a daunting stack of homework (that had been neglected over the Christmas holiday) awaited him. All he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep away his troubles. In reality, however, Kurt downed countless cups of coffee in preparation for what he assumed would be a very sleepless night filled with hours upon hours of studying and work.

And he was right. For the next couple nights that followed, Kurt found himself struggling to stay awake as he finished the remains of his essay or design sketch.

Rachel had texted Kurt on the afternoon of New Year's Eve telling him and Blaine to meet her in Times Square to watch the ball drop that evening. Spending New Years in New York City had been a dream of Kurt's for as long as he could remember and acted as an incentive to finish his work before it was time to join Rachel and Blaine amongst the unruly crowd in Times Square.

It was nearly ten 'o clock when Blaine strolled into the apartment, tossed his messenger bag to the side, and placed his guitar case beside it. The curly haired boy emitted a loud, exhausted sigh as he dragged himself over to the futon. With a thump, he was lying across the cream upholstery. Kurt, who had been forced to spread his extensive homework materials across the floor due to their lack of a desk, hardly looked up from his work.

"How'd it go?" Kurt asked distractedly as he scribbled away in his notebook.

"Better than last night, I guess," Blaine answered with as much optimism as he could muster. "I gave my demo out to a few labels and I even got to perform live for one of the agents—"

"That's nice," Kurt mumbled absently as if he were programmed to respond at a specific time. He still hadn't looked up from his work. Blaine sat up and chuckled at the sight of his focused boyfriend. With a mischievous grin, Blaine slid off the futon and crawled over to Kurt's spot on the floor. He was careful not to knock over any stacks of paper as he made his way closer to Kurt.

Blaine snaked his arm around the waist of a very inattentive Kurt and gently leaned in toward his ear, purring softly. "How was your day?"

"Busy," Kurt responded a bit too quickly. One of Kurt's many talents was his ability to completely engulf himself in his work, but his agitation began to reach its peak when Blaine slowly pressed his lips against the warm skin of his neck. Kurt leaned away, finally tearing his eyes away from his open textbook. "Blaine, cut it out."

The dark haired singer pouted with mock disappointment. "C'mon, you deserve a break from your studying." Blaine leaned in again, but Kurt pulled away before his lips could meet the pale skin.

"No, I still have a lot to do," Kurt argued icily, exhaling briskly before he started speaking under his breath. "We can't all just drop out of school whenever we feel like it."

Blaine perked up and Kurt could feel his arm tense as it still lingered around his waist. He let his voice ominously drop a few octaves. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Kurt never considered himself an irritable person, especially when in the presence of a one Blaine Anderson. However, when a giant stack of schoolwork awaited him, it was easy to forget his tolerance and simply turn red in the face with anger at his boyfriend's apparent lack of perceptive skills. Kurt let his pen fall from his hand and hit his notebook with a smack. Then he narrowed his icy cerulean eyes at Blaine, foolishly allowing his stress to take over.

"Blaine, I respect your decision to leave NYU," Kurt began through clenched teeth to control his bubbling irritation. "But please respect my decision to stay in school and understand that I'm practically swimming in homework—not to mention my internship work as well. So don't distract me—that's the last thing I need right now."

Kurt gave a definitive nod, pleased with his diplomatic response. Blaine, however, didn't seem as pleased. He kept his tensed posture as he continued to stare at Kurt with his wide and slightly hurt hazel eyes.

"You chose to do this internship, Kurt," Blaine reminded him slowly; careful to keep his tone casual and light despite his sudden urge to explode. "Don't act like it's this huge undertaking that's been forced upon you—"

Little did Blaine know, Kurt was closer to snapping than he thought. And, with that, Kurt indeed snapped. The slender brunette flared his nostrils as his lips formed a straight, tight line across his face, eyes blazing dangerously. He was through with being tolerant.

"The least you could do is be thankful that I have this internship," Kurt growled. "Because as of right now, it's our only source of income now that your parents aren't helping us out."

"So you're blaming me," Blaine stated rather than asked. "You think it's my fault that we're in this position?"

Kurt's nose pointed toward the ceiling huffily. "Well, why else aren't your parents sending us checks anymore?"

Blaine appeared slightly abashed at Kurt's sharp tone. He watched his boyfriend carefully with incredulous eyes. "I thought you were okay with this…you told me that my happiness comes first."

"I just don't have time for your games, Blaine!" Kurt snapped suddenly, catching Blaine off guard. The slender brunette had now inched away from the dark haired boy, creating an uncomfortable distance between them. "Yes, you've dropped out of school. Yes, you deserve to be happy—we've already established my opinion on the matter. I'd just appreciate it if my hard work could be recognized a bit more instead of simply criticized!"

"I'm not criticizing anything," Blaine defended exasperatedly. He ran a hand through his neatly gelled hair in frustration. "You're taking everything too seriously—"

Kurt's cheeks flushed and his eyebrows came together. "I have to take this seriously, Blaine, because it's our life we're talking about! Don't you care?"

"Of course I care—"

"I'm sick of living like we're destitute," Kurt's voice rose a bit higher out of anger, something that would have normally caused his heart to flutter in embarrassment. He was too caught up in the moment to notice. "I'm sick of living paycheck to paycheck—always wondering whether or not we'll have enough money to buy groceries or pay the electricity bill. I can't live like this, Blaine! I'm the only thing that's keeping us afloat!"

Blaine blinked as Kurt recovered from his tirade. Large hazel eyes met tired blue ones as the two boys sat quietly beside one another. Neither one knew what to say, but the silence was beginning to tear away at Blaine's nerves. He gently clasped his hands together in an attempt to gather himself before, softly, he spoke. "Well, I'm sorry that none of this is living up to your expectations. I'm sorry for letting you down and actually doing something that I want to do for a change!"

"Yes, Blaine, because it's always all about you!"

More silence. Both boys were pink in the face and panting from their argument, hearts beating relentlessly against their chests as adrenaline and anger pulsed through their veins. That's when Blaine noticed Kurt's eyes begin to glisten knowingly with oncoming tears. The brunette remained punitive, however, and refused to allow simple tears to interrupt his moment of authority. Blaine finally broke eye contact by looking down, unable to bring himself to watch the tears that were already beginning to make way down Kurt's flushed face. It seemed like hours had passed before Kurt licked his lips, ready to speak in a light, breathy voice.

"I never imagined it being like this," He whispered.

Blaine looked up from his clasped hands, still expressionless and stony. "What?"

"My life—our life," Kurt chuckled humorlessly despite the tears that continued to roll down his cheeks. "I thought I had everything planned out. I would be so happy here while Rachel was being fought over by all the Broadway casting directors. You would finish college at the top of the class with a medical degree—ready to cure cancer or whatever."

Blaine did not smile.

"We would all be successful and wealthy and move out of his dump into a gorgeous Upper East Side apartment with a view overlooking Central Park…I never imagined us fighting so much…everything seemed so much more obtainable in high school—"

"We're not in high school anymore, Kurt," Blaine muttered softly, a bit more biting and dark than he had intended. "This is real life."

Blaine couldn't help but notice more tears that promptly began to stream shamelessly down Kurt's rosy cheeks. The tall brunette glanced upward at the ceiling and blinked wildly, willing the tears to cease. After a few futile attempts, Kurt released a shaky breath and his voice came out raw and choked.

"And I never imagined it would suck more than high school,"

Kurt silently stood and moved toward the door. He slipped on his coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck and marched out before Blaine could think to stop him.

Blaine didn't know why it felt impossible to jump up and chase after Kurt. He didn't know why he couldn't just put aside his pride and say "I'm sorry". He didn't know why everything suddenly felt like a nightmare that would soon be over—he would wake up beside Kurt on their bare, queen-sized mattress.

The one thing Blaine did know, however, was that Kurt was gone. And he had singlehandedly drove him away.

Blaine felt awful. He felt sick. He could feel his stomach knotting inside of him, his throat drying out, and his breath begin to shorten. Usually, at a time like this, Blaine would turn to Kurt. The two would sit down and talk about everything until Blaine felt as good as new. However, this time around, Blaine didn't have Kurt—Kurt was the very cause of Blaine's agony, in fact.

It didn't take long for Blaine's pain to turn into guilt. The dark haired singer replayed their argument in his head, imagining a million different scenarios that could have played out—ones that involved Blaine controlling his temper and ended with the two of them snuggled up on the futon watching TV re-runs of Project Runway. Because that was Blaine's favorite thing in the world—just being with Kurt.

A wave of some unidentifiable emotion washed over Blaine's entire body. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was strong enough to propel him off of the floor and toward the front door. He grabbed his coat, scarf, hat, and gloves before he flew down two flights of stairs and walked out into the freezing winter weather. Footprints in the snow that matched the bottoms of Kurt's Alexander McQueen boots led down the sidewalk, telling Blaine that Kurt had already begun his journey to Times Square. His heart gave a painful thump against his chest as realization dawned on him. If Blaine didn't find Kurt soon, he would easily be lost amongst the millions of New Yorkers packed into the streets. Blaine couldn't ruin New Years—he couldn't allow their year to end on such a sour note. Blaine had to find Kurt in time.

The dark haired boy sprinted down the sidewalk beside Kurt's trail, wincing as the biting winter air painfully blew across his bare face. Blaine didn't care—he needed to find Kurt. He couldn't lose him because a life without Kurt was not worth living. Blaine's legs began to ache as he sped down the street, past buildings and cars and streetlights with gaining momentum. It was a long trek to Times Square on foot, but Blaine's speed never wavered. He kept sprinting until he began to see the blinking lights, mobs of people and giant silver ball of Times Square. His lungs burned with cold air as he pushed past a young couple, shooting a hasty apology over his shoulder as he went. The throngs of people grew thicker, louder, and rowdier as Blaine squeezed his way inside, glancing back and forth frantically for Kurt's familiar face.

"Excuse me—I'm sorry," Blaine muttered repeatedly as he slammed into people's shoulders or stepped on their feet. He mentally cursed himself for being so short and not being able to see over the heads of the crowd. That's when a familiar brightly striped jacket caught Blaine's attention. He skidded to a halt and pushed his way toward the girl wearing said jacket. "Rachel! Hey, Rachel!"

The petite brunette swirled around to see Blaine's frantic face coming towards her through the crowd. She smiled vibrantly and waved. "Blaine! I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it."

"Rachel!" Blaine panted once he managed to squeeze in beside his roommate. "Where's Kurt? Is he here yet? Is he with you?"

"Um, yes," Rachel's face contorted into confusion as she pointed in an undistinguishable direction through the mob. "He went that way. He said he'd be right back—"

Blaine was already moving toward the direction that Rachel pointed out. "Thanks, Rachel!"

The small girl was left alone and confused as Blaine once again started shoving past the New Yorkers. He searched desperately, catching glimpses of strangers' faces that were packed tightly together like sardines. Suddenly, in a quick flicker of recognition, Blaine noticed a slim boy with perfectly coiffed hair, luminous pale skin, a stylish coat and, finally, eyes the color of the ocean…

"Kurt!" Blaine yelled, barely able to hear his own voice over the collective murmur of the crowd. "Kurt, over here!"

Somehow, Kurt managed to hear Blaine's cry. The slender brunette spun around in time to see his boyfriend charging toward him at top speed. His eyes grew wide at the sight and he opened his mouth to speak quickly before Blaine reached him.

"Blaine—"

But Blaine was faster. He practically slammed his body into Kurt's, causing both of the boys to nearly fall over backwards from the collision. After regaining balance, Blaine grabbed Kurt by the shoulders and stared into his eyes with wild, uncontrolled intensity. It was the most uncivilized state Kurt had ever seen Blaine in.

"Kurt, you're right—it sucks, everything sucks right now," The curly haired boy paused to catch his breath as crowds of people shoved past him. "But I don't care."

Kurt glanced upward at the giant, sparkling ball that dangled over Times Square. The large digital clock began to threateningly count down from ten. "Blaine, what are you—"

"TEN, NINE, EIGHT…" The entire crowd began collectively screaming out the countdown.

"I don't care because you're with me," Blaine had to yell in order to be heard over the booming chorus of excited New Yorkers. "I don't care about anything as long as you're with me."

"SEVEN, SIX…"

"I'm willing to put up with all our disappointment and hard times," Blaine was becoming increasingly more desperate to finish his sentences. He knew time was running out—fast. Kurt, however, didn't seem to notice the ticking clock. Time seemed to halt as he watched Blaine with stunned, moved eyes. "Because I know they won't last forever. We can turn things around, Kurt—I want to make this work for us."

"FIVE…"

"So please…don't give up yet," Blaine's eyes were desperate and full of conviction as he squeezed Kurt's shoulders definitively. He released a long breath that evaporated into the air from the cold winter weather. "You're too strong to give up without a proper fight."

"FOUR…"

"Blaine, I…" Kurt had no words. All he could do was stare at the boy in front of him who had unknowingly given him more than he could have ever asked for. Blaine—who had upon multiple occasions declared that he was no good at romance—had sprinted all the way from their apartment to Times Square in the snow, pushed his way through the throngs of people covering the streets in what was the most romantically spontaneous feat Kurt had ever witnessed just to tell him that he was worth it. The struggle, the tears, and the disappointment suddenly seemed like trivial matters compared to the incomparable sight of Blaine standing before him, a light dusting of snow collecting on his shoulders and his mass of dark hair.

"THREE…"

The two boys suddenly became aware of the screaming crowd surrounding them as the clock ticked closer still to the end of the year. They broke their gaze simultaneously to glance upward at the glittering New Years ball that was being lowered from the dark, star-scattered sky. Small, cold snowflakes landed on both of their noses. Giggling, Kurt returned his gaze to Blaine who was already smiling at his boyfriend.

"Let's make this year the best one yet," Blaine proposed.

"TWO…"

Kurt grinned at the pair of hazel eyes that refused to break away from his. "It's already my New Years resolution."

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The sparkling ball literally exploded over the equally explosive crowd below it. Confetti, glitter, and paper streamers floated down upon Times Square along with the snow. The masses of people surrounding Kurt and Blaine were electric as they celebrated the initial moments of 2013, but nothing could compare to the voltage that pulsed through the pair's veins when their lips connected just as the start of the New Year began.