“Don’t go walking around the streets at night alone, alright?”

“I know, dad.”

“And remember to bring your key with you whenever you leave the apartment.”

“I know, dad.”

“And call if you need anything. I’ll get on the first plane I can book—“

“I know, dad!”

Kurt all but stamped his foot impatiently against the floor of the airport, crossing his arms across his chest as he gave his father the most irritated look he could muster. Burt stared down at his son with wide, worried eyes—an expression that wasn’t often produced by such a strong man. He was clearly uncomfortable as he shifted his weight back and forth and practically crumpled his parking ticket into a ball as he held it tight in his hands.

“Dad,” Kurt sighed. “I’ll be fine—I promise. And I’ll call you every week.”

A deep, garbled whimper escaped Burt’s throat, catching Kurt off-guard. The small brunette softened his ocean eyes and looked up at the sight of his father crying. Kurt had never seen his father cry—not even at his mother’s funeral. Burt simply squeezed his son’s tiny hand, reassuring him that everything would be fine—nothing would change. Although it was clear that he was trying his best to disguise it, Burt released a few quiet, choked sobs as he broke eye contact with his concerned son. He quickly rubbed his nose against the sleeve of his jacket.

“Shit,” Burt mumbled, sniffling loud and long. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this.”

Kurt could feel his heart breaking inside his chest. Tears threatened to fall from his own eyes just by the mere sight of his father, but he bit his bottom lip and held them back. His father had always been strong for him—now was his chance to be strong for his dad. In one fluent motion, Kurt lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his father’s waist. There was a moment when all the activity in the airport seemed to freeze and all that mattered for Kurt was making sure he inhaled as much of his father’s scent as he could—he wanted to remember how it felt to bury his face in his father’s protective shoulder. Burt’s muscular arms found their way around his son’s small frame, engulfing him in a warm, secure embrace.

“I love you, dad,” Kurt whispered into his father’s jacket lapels. His arms tightened the hug.

Burt released a shuddery breath. “Love you, too, kiddo.”

They both parted the embrace and looked at each other. They both appeared lost; searching for something that would assure them that their worlds weren’t about to be turned upside down. Minutes of silence passed until the tears broke free from Kurt’s eyes. They tumbled down his cheeks and dripped onto the ground beneath him. “I’ll miss you.”

“It’s always been you and me, ya know?” Burt began rambling, not bothering to pause whenever his voice cracked slightly from emotion. “We’ve always looked out for each other and now… you won’t be around anymore.”

Kurt blinked and more tears fell. He licked his lips quickly and tried to speak through his dry throat. “You have Carole now.”

“I love your stepmom,” Burt confirmed, nodding rhythmically. “But she’s not my son…she’s not my little boy.”

“Dad,” Kurt muttered, barely audible. His father wasn’t one to willingly share his emotions—Kurt knew this. It worried him. Burt was losing his son—the one thing he had always built his life around.

“I wish your mom could see you now,” Burt continued, sounding more and more hysterical as he progressed. “She would’ve been so proud of you. Ya know, going to college in New York and everything...doing what you’ve always wanted to do.”

Their moment was interrupted by a muffled voice from overhead: “Ladies and gentlemen, Flight 39 to New York is now boarding its passengers. Again, Flight 39 to New York will now be boarding its passengers. Thank you.”

There was a beat as they both digested the words spoken by the airline attendant. “I have to go now,” Kurt mumbled softly.

“Yeah, alright. You, uh—you better get going, then,” Burt fumbled with his words as Carole appeared at his shoulder, placing a reassuring hand on her husband’s back. She smiled ruefully at Kurt and let her hand rub circles on the back of Burt’s jacket.

“Give us a call when you get settled in,” Carole instructed. “And let me know if you need me to send you anything.”

“Thanks, Carole, I will,” Kurt extended his arms and gave his stepmother a firm hug. Carole stepped back to Burt’s side, who was now standing very still, blinking absentmindedly. Then Finn appeared on Burt’s other side, devouring the last of his packet of Peanut M&Ms that he’d purchased from the terminal snack shop.

“See ya, dude,” Finn grinned and extended his own arms for a hug. “You’re an awesome brother…I’ll miss having you around the house to cook dinner and stuff when I come home.”

Kurt chuckled at Finn’s sentimentality—or as sentimental as Finn was able to get. He stepped forward to accept the hug from his stepbrother. “I’ll miss you, too, Finn,” Kurt sighed and ended the hug by glaring into the dumbfounded eyes of Finn. “Even though you leave your mammoth shoes lying around the house for me to trip on and have yet to master the concept of chewing with your mouth closed at the dinner table.”

Kurt looked back and forth between Carole, Finn, and his dad standing before him. He was leaving his family—the family he’s come to know and love for the past two years. Carole was as much of a mother as he could’ve ever wanted and Finn—well, Finn was Finn. A few years ago, Kurt would never have guessed that he would end up with a brother, least of all Finn Hudson. Sure, sometimes his poor grooming habits got under Kurt’s skin, but he was certain that came with the territory of having a sibling. But Kurt always felt protected with Finn around. They had even managed to have some touching moments together when Finn wasn’t busy playing Xbox or arguing with Kurt about the pros and cons of owning a criminal amount of flannel in his wardrobe. And then there was Burt—the man who has been Kurt’s rock for as long as he could remember.

Kurt glanced back at Blaine, who had already said goodbye to his parents in the parking lot. He was waiting patiently by the luggage at a respectable distance to give Kurt a private moment with his family. Blaine’s eyes wandered nonchalantly around the bustling airport as he leaned against the handle of his carry-on suitcase. Kurt knew Blaine would be too polite to rush him so he took matters into his own hands.

“We should really get going now,” Kurt motioned back to Blaine, who perked up at the acknowledgement. “I’ll see you all for the holidays.”

Blaine cautiously walked forward to Kurt’s side, flashing a smile at the Hummel-Hudson family. “Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel. See you, Finn.” Finn extended a hand and Blaine promptly reciprocated the intended fist bump.

“You boys have fun and work hard, alright?” Carole told them. Burt grunted in agreement.

“And be safe. Make sure you stick together and look out for each other,” He instructed sternly.

Blaine nodded enthusiastically—always polite. But Kurt simply rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “We know, dad.”

With that, Kurt grabbed Blaine’s hand and hurriedly led him toward the airplane gate, gathering their luggage as they went. Kurt waved before they were completely out of sight and Blaine almost tripped over the luggage that got trapped around his feet from their haste. Finn snorted.

“Bye!” Kurt called out in a musical tone just as he and Blaine rounded the corner. Once his family was no longer visible, Kurt heaved a sigh and shook his head. “You’d think I was a child by the way they worry about me.”

“Technically, you are a child. You don’t turn eighteen for about another month,” Blaine reminded him with a laugh. “Besides, they just care about you.”

“They care too much,” Kurt corrected. “New York University was voted one of the safest campuses on the Eastern coast.”

Blaine smirked. “Yes, but New York City was voted one of the most dangerous cities in America,” He lightly bumped a frowning Kurt with his shoulder. “So don’t be so hard on them.”

The pair stood in a long line of passengers waiting to board the flight. Kurt tapped his foot instinctively, readjusting the strap of his messenger bag across his shoulder as he spoke softly but rather huffily. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but they’re your family—they’re supposed to worry,” Blaine explained good-naturedly. His grin suddenly began to fade as he turned away from Kurt’s gaze, staring absently in the opposite direction as if he were speaking only to himself. “Sometimes I wish my parents worried about me like that.”

Kurt immediately came to attention. Blaine rarely spoke about his parents. In fact, Kurt often felt lucky that he got the chance to meet them at all. They seemed nice enough (besides the one story Blaine told him about the summer he and his father built a car together) so he wondered what the problem was. But every time Kurt gathered enough courage to inquire, Blaine would smile and shrug it off, and then expertly switch topics.

“Why wouldn’t your parents worry about you?” Kurt hadn’t intended his question to come out as a whisper. He glanced at Blaine’s far-off expression with unease, wondering if he would yet again brush aside the issue.

“They’re just kind of ‘do-it-yourself’ types, you know? That’s how I was raised,” Blaine turned back to Kurt and shrugged easily. He seemed very passive. “It’s not that they don’t care about me…they just trust that I’m old enough now to live on my own.”

Kurt's mind seemed to pause. This was the most insight into Blaine's family life that he'd ever gotten besides 'my dad's a lawyer' and ‘my mom’s an interior designer’. He idly wondered why Blaine hadn’t mentioned his parents more often—Kurt certainly spent a lot of time telling Blaine about his father. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Blaine was not as close to his father as Kurt was to his. Their close relationship was uncommon considering the obstacle of Kurt’s sexuality—not every gay teen had the luxury of such a supportive family. Blaine’s eyes seemed to wilt as if he were suddenly very tired. Kurt felt a strong wave of sympathy flush over him.

“And now here you are,” Kurt quickly shifted the focus toward their surroundings, gesturing grandly. “About to board a plane to New York City—the first step of your adult life.”

Blaine smiled broadly, clearly thankful for the subject change. “Our adult life,” He corrected fondly.

The thought of sharing anything with Blaine—especially a lifetime—always sent Kurt’s stomach twisting into knots and a deep blush to crawl up to his cheeks. The line began to shuffle forward and Kurt could see passengers at the front of the line begin to pass through the gate. When it was Kurt and Blaine’s turn to step through the gate as well, it felt as though they were finally leaving behind their painful memories of Lima, Ohio—a town where they felt misunderstood and judged by their peers. New York, they were positive, would be much more forgiving.

The apartment was located on 600 Washington Street in Greenwich Village. It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room. It wasn’t much, but Blaine—being the son of an interior designer—immediately saw the potential.

“Just wait until we get some furniture,” He assured Kurt as he lugged his suitcase in through the front door, scanning the empty room with excited eyes. “I’ll check Craigslist tonight.”

Kurt slowly paced the floor, arms crossed, and paused at the window. He pushed the tattered curtains aside and practically pressed his face against the glass. At least they had a nice view. The busy city street outside their building was in clear sight from their window, as was a small strip of sidewalk lined with parked cars. Kurt had finally made it to New York City. He glanced out the window with a smile, taking in the crowds of people shuffling by and the bright yellow taxis that waited in traffic. It was all so wonderful. Beaming, Kurt swirled around and his expression quickly dropped.

However, their apartment…not so wonderful.

Kurt huffed at the bland, cream walls and the stained gray carpet until his eyes caught a glimpse of a black speck on the floor. His eyes widened in horror as he processed what he was seeing.

“Blaine!” Kurt called out in a panic. In an instant, Blaine appeared from the kitchen looking rather concerned. “Blaine, quick! Come here!”

“What? What is it?” He demanded hurriedly. He looked around the vacant room—how could anything possibly be posing a threat?

Kurt, still shell-shocked, simply pointed at the floor with a shaky finger. “It’s a spider. Kill it!”

Blaine squinted in the direction of Kurt’s finger. Could that microscopic black speck on the carpet possibly be a spider? Blaine stepped forward until he was looming over the speck. Kurt whimpered.

“Uh, Kurt?” Blaine began slowly. Indeed, it was a spider. But the fact that Kurt could detect it without a microscope was actually quite impressive. “It’s about the size of a pea.”

Kurt was now jumping up and down, squirming uncomfortably. “I don’t care how small it is! Just get rid of it!”

Blaine released a chuckle, then a sigh and began walking toward one of the bathrooms. “Okay, hold on—let me see if there’s any toilet paper here.”

“Hurry—run!” Kurt squealed. “It just moved!”

Biting his lower lip to suppress his amusement, Blaine returned promptly with a small handful of toilet paper. He leaned over and captured the tiny spider in the white mass, resulting in an audible sigh of relief from Kurt. Blaine casually made his way back to the bathroom to flush away the puny insect. “Rachel must’ve already gotten here. There’s an entire package of toilet paper in the bathroom and the fridge had a couple water bottles inside.”

“Toilet paper and water…not exactly homemaking essentials,” Kurt mumbled once he had regained his wits and Blaine returned to the living room.

“Better than nothing,” Blaine concluded. He watched Kurt’s skeptical expression as he scanned the apartment once again. Smiling gently, Blaine made his way to Kurt and wrapped an arm lazily around his shoulders, taking in the sight of the bare room before them. “You seem disappointed.”

Kurt shook his head slowly. “It’s just going to take some…getting used to.”

Blaine’s eyes instantly brightened as an idea passed through his mind. Bounding excitedly to the center of the room, Blaine spread his arms out wide. “What do you imagine here?”

One side of Kurt’s lips twitching upward into a hesitant grin, subtly and unconvincingly playing along with Blaine’s game. “I don’t know… a futon?”

“Sounds good to me,” Blaine agreed. “What else?”

“Maybe…” Kurt racked his mind for ideas despite how idiotic he felt about discussing invisible pieces of furniture. “A coffee table?”

Blaine nodded enthusiastically. “With a glass tabletop instead of wood so it won’t stain.” He moved to the empty cream wall and stroked it with his hand. “What color?”

“A celadon green…or maybe an emerald,” Kurt answered, surprised at how easily the response escaped his lips. “Definitely something in a lighter shade to keep the room bright.”

“We might need an area rug, too,” Blaine suggested. He pointed toward the front door. “And maybe a coat rack over in the corner.”

“And these curtains,” Kurt, beaming, pranced over to the window and stroked the tattered piece of fabric that hung from the top. He could feel himself getting lost in their fantasy. “They have to go. I have the perfect ones in mind—ivory eyelet with a yellow lace trim.”

“We’ll put the TV over there,” Blaine proposed.

“And some bookshelves for our school textbooks!” Kurt added.

The two found themselves laughing as they danced around the room, watching as their home began to take form in their imaginations. They ended up in the center of the room, mere inches apart, breathing slightly heavier than usual from their excitement. Kurt felt the desire to press his lips firmly against Blaine’s. He wanted to wrap his arms around his boyfriend and never let go. He was beginning to think that Blaine had the very same impulse just as the dark haired boy took a small step closer when the front door swung open. Both boys jumped back, startled.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Rachel threw up her arms ceremoniously as she walked through the doorway, inhaling deeply. “There’s nothing like the city! I just took a walk through Soho and there’s nothing more glorious than the sounds of angry car horns.”

“Hey, Rachel,” Blaine greeted, taking a step toward the front door. “When did you get here?”

“Oh, I’ve been here for hours,” Rachel answered dismissively. She placed her purse by Blaine and Kurt’s luggage and walked into the kitchen. “I stopped by the convenience store down the street to grab a few things, but we still need some of the basics.”

“Some?” Kurt jeered. He glanced contemptuously around the room. “We have no furniture. And no food. Just bottled water.”

Rachel returned to the living room with one such bottle. She took a sip and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. “We can worry about that later. We have two weeks until classes start—that’s plenty of time to get the apartment straightened out.”

“But what about—“ Blaine began.

“Oh!” Rachel interrupted, eyes twinkling with remembrance. “I hope you two don’t mind that I already picked out which bedroom I’ll be using. Which reminds me—we have to order bedframes. All we have are two mattresses right now.”

“Mattresses?” Kurt echoed incredulously. His nose scrunched up in dissatisfaction. “Only mattresses?”

Rachel’s eyebrows came together as she narrowed her eyes at Kurt. “You didn’t expect the apartment to come with free bedframes, did you?”

“No, but…just a mattress?” Kurt griped. “No sheets, no support, no TemperPedic foam?”

Blaine lightly nudged Kurt with his shoulder. “I’m sure you can rough it for one night.”

“There’s time for complaining later,” Rachel sprang for her purse again and slung it over her shoulder. The small brunette motioned for the boys to follow as she opened the front door. “But right now I’ve got to take you guys to the quaintest coffee shop I found on 7th Avenue!”