I FEEL PRETTY!
OH SO PRETTY!
I FEEL PRETTY AND WITTY AND GAY!
AND I PITTY
ANY GIRL THAT ISN'T ME TODAY!

What the hell?

I reluctantly opened my eyes, the New York sun shining straight through the blinds in my room. The light went straight to my brain and pounded on my forehead. Oh god that hurt.

I FEEL CHARMING!
OH SO CHARMING!
IT'S ALARMING HOW CHARMING I FEEL!

"Dear god, make it stop." I mumbled, looking around my room, trying to spot my iPod. My alarm was set to wake me up to a random song instead of a blaring beat.

Remind me next time to just buy select songs off of West Side Story, and not the whole album.

SEE THAT PRETTY GIRL IN THE MIRROR THERE?
WHO CAN THAT ATTRACTIVE GIRL BE?

"What is that?" said a faint man's voice from the living room.

I immediately shot up in my bed, eyes wide and fear beginning to twist inside my gut, the pain in my head now the least of my worries.

"H-hello?" Maybe it was my imagination...maybe. I got out from under my sheets and grabbed the bat that I kept next to my nightstand just in case.

Anything could happen to you when you live in New York, and it's good to be prepared. Not that a bat is necessarily considered excellent protection, but hey, it's better than nothing.

I FEEL STUNNING!
AND ENTRANCING!
FEEL LIKE RUNNING AND DANCING FOR JOY!

"What is that?"

Yeah no, that is definitely not my imagination.

FOR I'M LOVED
BY A PRETTY, WONDERFUL B-

I switched off the alarm on my iPod, walking slowly towards the living room, holding the bat ready in my hands.

"Who's there?"

"What do you mean who's there?" the voice said.

I walked into the room to see a strange bearded man lying on the couch, with his arm lazily covering his eyes.

A sketchy man lying on my couch, under my beloved crocheted blanket, resting his head on my sofa pillow.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY APARTMENT!" I yelled, tightening my grip on the bat in my hands.

The stranger jumped straight up in the couch, quickly turning to see me holding a bat ready to beat him. His eyes went wide as he put his hands up in defense, getting up from off the couch. My nose picked up this weird scent in the room, sort of like a horseradish cheese smell...mixed with sewer.

"Woah woah woah, okay. Just-put the bat down! Why are you holding a bat?"

"WHY ARE YOU IN MY APARTMENT!" A trail of sharp pains from all my screaming attacked my forehead. Holy mother-I need to stop yelling before my brain breaks through my face.

The man stood up, my blanket falling off his chest and onto the floor as he moved closer to me. Who did this crazed bitch think he was? I flinched, taking a step or two behind, pointing the tip of the bat at him defensively. He was wearing grey sweatpants and a shirt that said 'Kurt for Class President'.

"OH MY GOD, WHY ARE YOU WEARING MY SHIRT!" Shit shit shit that hurt like hell.

"You let m-okay please, can you put the bat down and then we'll talk? Okay?"

I squinted my eyes and took a closer look at him, taking in his grossly long beard and the mop of hair plopped on his head. "Oh-Oh my god...are you the...hobo?"

"Well yeah, I'm homeless, but-"

"Oh god," my eyes widened in horror, lowering the bat and putting a hand up to my currently throbbing head, "please tell me I didn't sleep with you."

"No! No, god, no."

Phew.

"I just-you don't remember any of last night, do you?"

"Well of course I remember you and getting into the bar...it just gets fuzzy after I started drinking."

"Okay, well, then drop the bat and I'll inform you."

I put the bat on the floor and sat down on the bench next to the window, watching as the man sat back down on the couch and studying his holey socks. My eyes flickered down and I noticed the worn out sneakers resting on the floor. I was ninety-percent sure that the sickening smell was coming from his shoes.

"Okay, so around one in the morning you and your girlfriend-"

"Friend."

"Okay then, you and your friend-"

"The blonde right?"

"Yes, she was blonde."

"Jackie."

"This isn't going to work if you keep interrupting me." he said.

I nodded. "Fine."

"You and Jackie left the Aura around one in the morning. I was still performing and-"

I chuckled. "Performing? That's seriously what you call it?"

"Remember that thing I said about not interrupting?"

"Right." I couldn't help but chuckle a little more before he continued.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes at me. Jesus, since when are homeless men so easily wound up? I always thought they were constantly giddy or something...or at least that's what they seemed like in Disney movies. But then again they always ended up being witches or having some sort of magical beans or whatever. That could be a somewhat misleading.

"I was still...playing and you guys stopped to listen. Jackie asked me if I was cold and I said yes. Then she asked me if I had a place to stay and I said no. And you kind of just stared at me for a while before insisting that I come home with you. You grabbed my bucket and so I thanked you, grabbed my guitar, and walked with you. You told me your name, I told you mine."

"Which is?"

"Oh, m-my name?"

Well he certainly is a jumpy hobo. "Yes, your name."

"Um...Blaine."

Hmm, Blaine the hobo. "Nice name."

"Thanks."

My head throbbed again and I got up to go get some aspirin. I walked to my kitchenette, rummaging through the cupboards and getting a glass of water. "So is that it?" I asked before swallowing the pill, wincing and gulping down water immediately afterwards.

"What? Oh...no." Blaine said, shifting himself in his seat and continuing. "Jackie went home and I followed you here. You kept muttering something about me smelling weird all throughout the elevator ride and in your apartment. You were saying how you felt so bad for me. As soon as you got in you plopped yourself on the couch, saying how you were 'back at last' and something about Jackie being your 'comfort cockblock'. After that you started like, placing these weird kisses on the leather...it was all very strange. I was just standing there listening to you for a while before you got up and went into your bedroom. You came back with a t-shirt and sweats that you insisted I change into. Then you asked me if I needed anything and when I said no you said I was the most appreciative hobo you'd ever met and invited me to stay for the week. I thought it was a very generous and gracious offer so I accepted. Then you disappeared in your room for the rest of the night."

"Oh. My. God."

"Yeah, I know it's a bit strange, right?"

I leaned against my counter as I cradled my face in my hands and rubbed at my eyes. "Oh my god."

"I mean, you're actually really, really nice when you're drunk."

"ohhhh myyyyy goooooood."

"Are you alright?"

I began to pace the rooms, flailing my arms as I went back and forth. "This is why I don't drink! Crazy shit like this always happens whenever I drink."

"If it makes you feel better, this isn't the first time it's happened to me." Blaine said.

"What?"

"Yeah! Believe it or not, this is actually the fourth time a drunken person has invited me into their home. I've been told that I'm particularly dapper for a homeless guy."

I couldn't help but a scoff a little as I glanced back at the bird's nest of hair on top of his head and the medium sized furry animal that he sported as a beard. "People think you're dapper? No offense...but have they seen you?"

"What? I just haven't shaved in a while. Or...you know...cut my hair...or showered."

"Oh god please stop talking before I gag." I said as I rubbed my face in my hands, then immediately reprimanding myself for doing so. The more you touch your face, the more oily it gets, and the more acne you get, and then my moisturizing routine will take even longer, and god knows I wouldn't make it class on time...

"SHIT!" I said, jumping back up from my seat and running towards the bedroom."What time is it?"

"Um...ten fifteen I think. Why?" Blaine yelled from the living room.

"Shit shit shit shit shit." I cursed, running around my room and trying to put together a somewhat sensible outfit while my mind was reeling. "My music theory class starts in like ten minutes!"

"Oh! Where do you go to school?"

"Hunter College-why am I telling you this!" I ran back into the living room. "I have to shower, just please don't touch anything."

After showering (which was probably one of the fastest showers I've ever taken in my life) I had to skip my moisturizing routine and throw on clothes as fast as I could. When I went back into the kitchen, Blaine was back on the couch with the blanket on top of him, flipping through the channels.

"Woahwoahwoahwoahwoah! Why-what are you doing?"

"Watching TV?" Blaine said, with what I'm presuming is supposed to be an innocent look. I can barely tell what any of his facial expressions are with the amount of hair on his face.

"Uhh, what? So you're planning on just staying here?"

"Yep!" he said, "That's the plan!"

"Umm, how about no?"

"Look, drunk or not, you invited me to stay for the week. I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm not leaving."

My eyes glanced back and forth between the clock and him. My class started in three minutes. I just couldn't do this right now.

"Isn't this illegal or something?"

"Well, no, you invited me."

"You can't prove that!"

"You can't prove that you didn't!"

"Ugh! You are so freaking infuriating!" I paced back and forth, freaking out a little before grabbing my messenger bag and jacket, heading for the door. "I can't believe I'm letting this happen." I opened the door, turning around before leaving. "I will be back in three hours. Do not make yourself at home."

And with that I slammed the door and headed down the hallway, planning to try my best not to think about the fact that a stranger was spending the day in apartment.

Yeah, that plan could be thrown down the crapper.

"...but all have the same basic practical arrangement. The player depresses a key hinged in the middle of its length, which causes the far end of the key to rise. This lifts a jack, a long strip of wood, to which is attached a small..." the professor droned on in front of the lecture hall.

This had to be like the three thousandth time I've checked the clock during this class. Two and half hours in, and every single minute has been spent distressing about what was happening at my apartment. None of it was spent focusing on what I should have been focusing on, the Baroque musical era and other dead composers from the Renaissance.

Right now, my freakishly tall and very old professor is playing harpsichord samples for us. I fucking hate the harpsichord. It's like someone wanted to make a toy piano with the essence of nails on a chalkboard. It has all the appeal and attraction of a really, really old piano that hasn't been tuned in twenty years. How the hell did people listen to this regularly back then? How the hell has every single harpsichord in the world not been set on fire?

"And that concludes today's session, class. I'll see you all later and don't forget that you have a term paper due soon."

FINALLY.

I hurriedly shoved my notebook and textbooks into my messenger bag, almost running down the steps to get out of the lecture hall. I had almost made it out the door when...

"Oh, Mr. Hummel!"

Damn it. I winced as I closed my eyes, slowly turning myself on my heel and facing my professor.

"Yes, Mr. Roybi?"

"A little birdie told me that you've made it into the cast of Wicked!"

"Oh yeah, that's me!" I said chuckling nervously.

"Well congratulations! How is everything over at the Gershwin?"

"Oh it's...good. It's really hard work, but it pays off."

That initiated a very painful conversation that lasted for about fifteen minutes. The man felt the need to give me a ten minute history lesson on the life of George Gershwin and how the theatre came about. I stood there politely, smiling and nodding my head at all the appropriate times, while on the inside I was aching to leave the freaking building.

"Alright well, as much as I'd love to stay and chat all day, I have papers to review. I'll see you in two days, Mr. Hummel."

Did he just-he did, didn't he? He just did that. Wow, what a douche bag.

"Um, yeah. Goodbye Mr. Roybi."

In a flash I was out of the lecture hall and making my way out of the front door of the building. I needed to get home. Oh my god, I needed to get home. Blaine could have pooped on my wardrobe for all I know. He may have sold every last piece of designer clothing that I own by now. He may even be psychotic. Holy shit I just left a possible lunatic in my apartment for almost four hours.

I rode the subway, trying to ignore the grumbling in my stomach from not eating anything all day. It was only 2:00 and I was already completely exhausted. My day hadn't even begun yet. I still had to do the show tonight and work on my term paper. The familiar feeling of a panic attack started to settle in as I closed my eyes and silently wished for the train to go faster.

My heart rate increased pretty significantly as I rode the elevator up to my apartment. I prepared my mind for the worst, just so that I wouldn't completely pass out when I opened the door. The elevator doors opened at my floor and I walked slowly into the hallway, a feeling of impending doom sinking in as I watched the room numbers increase, nearing my apartment. Once I got to my door I just stared at it for a good five minutes, too scared to open it.

Should I knock?

I mean what if he's naked or something?

"God Kurt, what are you doing?" I murmured to myself, fishing my keys out of my bag and opening the door before I could think about it too much.

As soon as the door opened a rush of warm, sweet air filled the hallway. I couldn't put my finger on the scent, but I knew it was food, and my stomach grumbled quite loudly at the mouth-watering smell. A feeling of relief came upon me as I saw that everything in my living room seemed to be just like I left it.

"Hello?" I said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind me. Across the room I saw Blaine pop his head around the corner from the kitchenette.

"Hello!" he said, before disappearing back into the kitchen. Oh, so that's what his face looks like. The length of his beard had been decreased quite significantly. It was now maybe only an inch long, but he still had a very mountain-man look to him.

"Y-your beard."

"Yeah, I tamed it down with some scissors I found in your bathroom." Blaine's voice rang from the other room. "Damn thing's been annoying me for weeks."

"Um...what're you doing?" I asked skeptically, taking off my jacket before walking into the kitchen. There was a nice looking plate of pancakes resting on the counter with my laptop open right next to it. Blaine was hovering over the sink, washing dishes and still wearing my sweats and t-shirt from this morning. However, he didn't smell bad, so he must have showered. I lowered my bag off my arm and let it fall to the floor as e gestured towards the pancakes with a soapy spoon.

"I made pancakes!" He said in an overly excited manner, putting down the spoon and doing this weird jazz hands thing as he turned towards me.

Err...what the hell was that?

I gave him a confused look and he chuckled a bit. "I was really hungry and so I thought it would be okay to make some. I don't know whether you ate or not but I made a lot, just in case you were hungry."

"Oh...um...thanks?"

"Have a seat!" He said, gesturing to stool behind the counter. I hesitated, but ended up listening to him, my empty stomach controlling my brain. He set a few pancakes in front of me, along with the syrup and a small tub of margarine. I cut out a piece of pancake with my fork, taking a bite cautiously.

"This isn't like...laced with arsenic or anything...right?"

Blaine laughed, returning do the dishes. "Whatever happened to me being the 'nicest and most appreciative hobo you ever met'?"

"That was before you refused to leave my apartment." I said, biting on another forkfull of pancake. They were suprisingly delicious, arsenic be damned.

"And on that note," he said, placing the last plate on the drying rack. "how're my pancakes?" I looked up to see Blaine leaning on the other side of the counter, smiling teasingly at me.

I found myself smiling a bit sheepishly back because wow, he was really kind of handsome...aside from the whole Jew-fro thing he had going on. But the fact that most of his beard was gone really helped him out a lot, I could really see his facial features.

Maybe this guy wasn't so sketchy.

"They're pretty decent," I said nonchalantly. "Did you make them from scratch? I don't remember ever buying any pancake mix."

"I sure did!" he pointed towards the laptop resting near me. The screen was opened up to a recipe for homemade pancakes.

"How'd you figure out my password?"

Blaine smiled some more. "Oh, I have my ways."

I chocked on the piece of pancake I was currently trying to swallow and Blaine laughed at my reaction. "You hacked my laptop?"

"No, no I'm not that creepy! I found a piece of paper with a bunch of passwords on it."

I breathed a sigh of relief and continued to eat. An awkward silence settled in as Blaine watched me eat, following the fork back and forth between the plate and my mouth.

"How old are you?"

I'm sure if I was swallowing I would have choked on my pancake again. "Don't you think I should be the one asking you that?"

He smirked. "Yes, I suppose so." I stared at him expectantly waiting for him to tell me. He chuckled at my eagerness before speaking up. "22."

"22?"

"22."

"Wow." I said in amazement. Now that his beard wasn't so long, I guess it was easy to believe that he could be that young. But seriously who is able to grow that intense of a beard at 22?

However I did feel a bit more comfortable knowing that he wasn't too much older than me.

"And how about yourself?"

"20."

"Huh," he said. "Fooled me, I assumed you were straight out of high school."

"Flattering." I replied sarcastically, finishing the last of my pancakes.

"Well hey, it's better than me thinking you were in your thirties."

"Actually I was guessing that was how old you were." I smirked, picking up my plate and heading towards the sink.

"Me?"

"Mhm."

"Because of the beard?"

"Because of the beard."