The Garment District hadn’t lost its wonder for Kurt, despite his living in the city for years. He still loved how easily accessible everything was, especially when he knew where to look. When he’d first moved there, he spent every Saturday morning just wandering through the different fabric stores, taking in all the colors and textures and making elaborate plans in his head for how to use each and every one of them to the fullest extent. There was no way he could ever do everything he’d dreamed, but he’d reeled it all in over the years and started coming up with more realistic goals.

After Parsons, with Vogue, he could see ways to make those dreams become a reality. His apartment may have been small, but he knew how to make the space work. His desk was a small but good work table, and he had no qualms with shoving everything against the walls so he could thoroughly clean the floor and use it to lay out fabric to measure and cut. His sewing machine and supplies were kept stashed out of the way, because he didn’t use them nearly as much as he’d like or enough to merit them living permanently on desk space he needed to use for other things. He loved the days when he had a reason to get out everything and sit and work.

Kurt’s Saturday morning was spent like it had been before, wandering around the Garment District and taking in all the fabrics that he could. It wasn’t all daydreams and absentminded planning as it had been in the past, as he was on much more of a mission. There were plans completely formed in his mind, specific items that needed to be made, and he needed to find the perfect fabric to execute them all.

He’d been in contact with Brittany, trying to find a time that worked for both of them where she could come over and he could take her measurements and get cracking on her dress. It was awkward to invite her over like that, as they really didn’t know each other, but he wasn’t sure if that plan or what had actually happened was more awkward. Conflicting schedules had led to Kurt making a trip to the Big Bang the previous night and making use of the back room on Brittany’s break to get everything done.

That aside, it meant that Kurt was past the planning stage and could move straight into the actual production and creation. It took him five stores before he found the right fabric in the shade that he wanted, and he pulled the bolt off the shelf to take with him around the store while he looked at other choices. He ended up with yards of the pink, and then bits and scraps of so many different styles of red.

Blaine may have been joking when he asked Kurt to sew something for him, but Kurt wasn’t. He wasn’t about to make him an entire outfit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make him something else. After all, he was putting together a dress for one of Blaine’s friends purely on a whim and a want for her to be happy. Making something for Brittany and not for Blaine seemed rude, as he had been the first one of them to show an interest in Kurt’s area of expertise.

There were three things that Kurt knew about Blaine and fashion for certain: he typically dressed better than Kurt had seen, he preferred bow ties, and his favorite color was red. He figured that was more than enough to work with, and why he’d gotten so many different strips of red fabric when he’d been out in the stores. Any patterns that had struck him, textures that had felt lush under his fingertips, he’d gotten without a moment’s hesitation. Maybe it was overkill, maybe it a little crazy, but he wasn’t sure that he cared. Just because he had it all doesn’t mean he had to use it all, though he was half-certain he would.

Once Kurt was back at his apartment, he carefully set up his workspace. It was a practiced art, the arrangement of everything to give enough room to work. The majority of what usually perched on his desk was put on his bed, out of the way for the time but not too far away that he couldn’t find it if he needed. It had been a while since he’d sewn, and that was why he went for what he was making for Blaine first. Bow ties were small, easy, and not nearly as possible to screw up as a dress. That and the fact that he had over a dozen fabrics to choose from, and if he messed it up he could just move on to the next option and pretend like the first hadn’t happened. No one would ever know.

Except he didn’t mess up any of them. One by one, they were put together and set off to the side in a small little pile. By the time he was done, there were fourteen bow ties in various shades of red sitting there, waiting to be packed up and mailed off.

Kurt glanced at the clock, noting the time and calculating how long it would take him to get to the post office – whether he could make it there before they closed for the day. He found a box in his closet, small but definitely big enough for his purposes, and began to arrange them inside. Of course it was going to be shipped and who knew what it would end up looking like by the time it got to Ohio, but he liked to think that presentation was important. The bow ties were carefully arranged in layers of tissue paper, packed well enough that hopefully they wouldn’t shift too much in transit.

He hesitated, but then tucked one of his design labels down inside. It seemed silly, but he was proud of it. There wasn’t much reason for him to have it, but he knew that when he moved his way up in the design world, he already had his label figured out. He liked his initials, how well they fit together. He’d been inspired in one of his art history classes when they’d learned about the Wiener Werkstätte and he’d seen the monograms that the artists had used. One afternoon of doodling his way through class and he’d come up with his own, and he’d known from that moment on that his monogram was going to be his label, when that day came.

The box was wrapped in a plain brown paper bag he had from one of the local groceries, covering the writing on the box from its previous uses. He copied down Blaine’s address from where he had it stored in his phone, and added his own for the return. The trip to the post office was short, and he made it just in time before they closed for the day. There was a feeling of accomplishment that came when they took the package from him, shifting it off to the back to be sent away to Ohio. There was also a feeling of nerves, of whether or not he was overstepping or doing something completely ridiculous.

It was too late to be thinking about those things, so Kurt just had to bide his time and wait.

His hands needed a break, and so did his mind, so after he lay out, measured, and cut the fabric for Brittany’s dress, he stopped for the day. Everything was folded and set to the side, arranged on the desk so he could jump right in the next day and get to work. He would have to run his normal weekend errands before he did anything else, as he’d completely neglected them in favor of making bow ties, but he didn’t see a problem in that.

The weekends were practically notorious for Kurt falling asleep amid texts from Blaine and waking up to the same. He supposed there was more going on at the bar on the weekends, which is why there were so many more stories to tell. All Kurt knew was that the first thing he always did in the mornings, whether weekend or not, before he bothered getting out of bed, was check his phone. It tended to live on the pillow beside his head, the quiet buzz and vibrations from texts not even coming close to something that could wake him up. It was always a good way to start the day, reading words sent from Blaine, especially because Kurt could hear them in his voice.

Brittany’s dress didn’t get made in a day – as life had a tendency to intrude on even the best laid plans. It was halfway to being done when Kurt’s phone rang and Rachel was on the other end of the line, declaring an emergency was in progress and he was needed. What she’d meant was that she had an audition the following day and she needed his help coming up with an outfit to wear. Outfit planning had turned into a dry run of her monologue and song, and then dinner eventually followed. By the time Kurt got home, he didn’t have the energy to think about doing anything else.

To: Blaine Anderson
Do me a favor? If ever you have an audition and need help figuring out what to wear, don’t wait until the day before to ask me. I appreciate my expertise being valued, but I’m busy and important!

From: Blaine Anderson
Are you implying that I’m incapable of picking out my own clothes? That hurts.

To: Blaine Anderson
To be fair, I’ve only seen you in work clothes. If I’m going off those…

From: Blaine Anderson
I would be more offended, but I have to go play now. Later!

Kurt didn’t hear anything else from him for the rest of the night, but he knew better than to think he was actually offended. As far as he could tell, Blaine was a little too good natured to get offended. Either that, or he was just always so jovial and teasing when it came to Kurt that he knew better than to take anything seriously. It’s not like Kurt actually had a problem with his work clothes – how could he? Maybe it was that his t-shirts clung to him, or that he wore jeans that left practically nothing to the imagination, but there was no way Kurt could find anything wrong with casual attire when it looked so good.

It took two afternoons and evenings after getting home from Vogue before Kurt was done with Brittany’s dress, the bubblegum pink fabric draped and sewn perfectly, if he said so himself. The fabric was light, soft, and the dress looked comfortable and easy. He was proud of it, especially considering it’d been a while since he’d done something like that. Little repairs, alterations, sure, he did those all the time. Actually taking something of his own from idea to sketch and then construction, he didn’t think he’d done that since he graduated from Parsons. He’d just finished slipping it onto a hanger when his phone rang.

“Kurt, oh my God, I can’t believe you.” Blaine didn’t even give him the chance to say hello, and Kurt couldn’t quite place his tone. “I can’t.”

“What?”

“Did you seriously make these? They’re so perfect and gorgeous and you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Blaine…”

“Bow ties.”

“I made those,” Kurt said, biting at the inside of his lip. “I thought you might like them, and as I couldn’t exactly make you a suit…”

“You didn’t have to make me anything.” Blaine’s voice had softened, and Kurt sunk back against his bed because he really did love when Blaine spoke all quiet like that. It was like he was sitting right beside him and he was only talking as loud as he had to so Kurt could hear. “I was just joking, I didn’t expect—you didn’t—you have to let me pay you.”

“No,” Kurt replied, taking in a breath. “Absolutely not.”

“Kurt, this is what you do. You make beautiful things for people to wear. I’m paying you.”

“Blaine, no, it’s—they’re a gift.”

“It isn’t my birthday or Christmas.”

“No, but it’s Tuesday. I don’t know what the weather’s like in Ohio, but it’s been a very pleasant Tuesday here in New York. I think that’s reason enough to give a friend a present.” There was silence from the other end of the phone and Kurt wondered if he misspoke. “Blaine?”

“Well that’s not fair,” Blaine murmured. “Because I don’t have any kind of skill that can be turned into something tangible to give to you in return.”

“That’s not how it works,” Kurt said, glancing over at the dress hanging off his closet door. “I didn’t send those to you so you had to send me something back. I was out looking and saw the fabric and wanted to make them. Not because I wanted something in return, but because I wanted to make them for you.”

“Kurt…” Blaine said his name like a sigh, and it was almost enough to send a shiver down Kurt’s spine. “You’re just… so nice.”

“I try.”

“I wish I lived in New York.” It wasn’t the first time Blaine had said those words to him, but it was the first time he’d done so after Kurt had done something. Normally it was just about the theatre scene, or a yearning for the bigger city, but never in reference to him. Kurt closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, trying not to let his mind go there. It was just a comment, something Blaine said sometimes, it didn’t mean anything.

“It’s a good place to live,” Kurt replied evenly. “Who knows? A spot could open up at the bar here.”

“It would be amazing if that would happen.” There was a pause, noise in the background that sounded like something had fallen, and then Blaine sighed. “I have to go – pack for the rest of the week.”

“Where are you going?” Kurt asked, his breath quickening. He doubted Blaine was coming to New York, surely he would have said, but there was still that glimmer of hope.

“Nashville. I was out all day and then when I got home I got really distracted because someone sent me these amazing bow ties…”

“Go pack, Blaine. Go pack and have a safe flight.”

“I will. It’s not too bad of a flight, after all. Hang on,” he said, and his voice sounded muffled for a few moments, like he’d covered up the receiving end of his cell phone with his hand so he could talk to someone there with him. “Sorry about that. Anyway, Kurt, thank you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say it enough. Thank you.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” Kurt replied, even though it kind of was. Blaine didn’t need to know that. “Honestly. I’m just glad you like them.”

“I love them. They’re perfect. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Don’t you need to go pack?”

“It’s that whole goodbye thing again.”

“Nope, no goodbyes. Have a good flight, Blaine.”

“Have a nice night, Kurt.”

Kurt flopped back on his bed as he ended the call, legs still hanging off the end. It really was just the most unfortunate thing that Blaine lived in Ohio, because he hadn’t felt that connected with someone in a long time. Maybe that was also because Blaine lived in Ohio, because they didn’t have the overexposure of being around each other, seeing each other often enough to find out the quirks and annoyances that came with face to face interaction. Maybe if they lived in the same place they wouldn’t actually like each other as much. No, because no matter which way Kurt looked at it, he wished that Blaine was there.

It was completely unfair, really, because they’d had one night together – spent over coffee and greasy diner food – and that was it. Of course there were texts, emails, phone calls, all the little comments and communications that could bring a smile to his face even after the most harrowing day at his internship, but in terms of actual time spent together, they only had that one night. It almost made him ache with realization, because what if he was making it all up in his head on one level or another?

The thing was that it was so easy with Blaine. It way beyond easy to fall into patterns of talking, teasing, laughing, so naturally that it was difficult to remember that they barely met before they were apart. How many weeks had it been and Blaine was already the person he talked to more than anyone else? It was easy to have that thought when Blaine had said “I wish I lived in New York” that he meant because then he would be there with Kurt. His mind hadn’t even had to stretch to get there, as much as he’d tried to push it down and not let it happen. It all harkened back to that night, the conversation of Blaine not wanting to lead Kurt on, and what its implications meant. Jumping from one conclusion to the next could get Kurt into a deep hole very quickly, and he didn’t need that. He really didn’t.

There was a pint of ice cream that he kept buried in the back of his freezer, in case of emotional emergencies. By the time he went to bed that night, he’d decimated half of it before forcing himself to put it away. He would have called Rachel and demanded cheesecake therapy, but that would have required telling her why he needed cheesecake, and he had done such a great job of avoiding the topic of Blaine with her so he wasn’t about to start. He refused to check his phone before crawling under the covers, despite having heard it buzz, not wanting to give into his thoughts and have to dig out the ice cream again.

***

Kurt threw himself further into his work to distract himself from thinking about Blaine. It wasn’t exactly that difficult – there was always more to do, and especially then. He spent his days making multiple trips to the Garment District to scope out fabrics and trims and get swatches to take back to the designers, and then back again to acquire actual yardage of the choices they wanted. By the time he got home every night, he had no motivation to do anything but make dinner and sit in front of his TV, mindlessly watching until a few texts went back and forth with Blaine and he fell asleep. He’d never been to Nashville, but from what he heard it was nice.

It wasn’t until he got home that Friday, truly exhausted and  ready to just say screw it to making dinner and order something in instead, that he found a package waiting for him. The return address was Blaine’s, and Kurt took it inside his apartment, tossing his keys onto his desk before grabbing some scissors to rip through the tape. He hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t expect anything in return, and he really hadn’t – especially not so quickly, if at all. There was a note folded on top, written in handwriting he didn’t recognize but knew he could easily become familiar with.

Kurt – You may not have wanted anything, but I couldn’t really let that go. This isn’t nearly as amazing as what you sent me, but I had to do something and I didn’t have much time to work with. I figured a little taste of home couldn’t hurt, right? So enjoy your Ohio Care Package! – Blaine.

Digging through the little bit of packing material, Kurt got down to what was actually in the box. Honestly, it looked like Blaine had raided the Ohio themed store in the airport, and Kurt wouldn’t have been surprised if that was exactly what he had done. It wasn’t like he could have possibly had any time to do much more than that before leaving for Nashville. There were multiple packs of Buckeyes, all of which Kurt was sure he was going to devour almost immediately, a Columbus city mug from Starbucks, and finally a t-shirt that made him question Blaine’s taste and was the icing on the ridiculous cake.

It was no use to call Blaine, because Kurt knew he was already at the bar and probably performing, but that didn’t stop Kurt from reaching for his phone and dialing the number anyway. He ripped open one of the packages of Buckeyes and took a bite, moaning happily at the perfect combination of chocolate and peanut butter that he hadn’t had since leaving Ohio. Sure, he could make his own, but that would mean having it around and he didn’t need to be cramming that much sugar in his body if he could avoid it. But they were right there in front of him, so he was going to.

“Blaine Anderson,” he began, as he got through to voicemail. “You’re absurd and I cannot believe you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat all these and go into a sugar coma for the rest of the night.”

He wasn’t kidding, either. After the week he’d had, a complete overload on candy was exactly what the doctor ordered – and at least it was better than going out and getting himself a giant bottle of wine and settling in for the night, because that would have ended much worse than getting jittery from sugar and then crashing. Dinner came first, which he made instead of ordering after all, and then he settled in with his Buckeyes and fresh tea in his new Columbus mug. They were little reminders of Ohio, but definitely nice to have.

His dad had been hinting for him to take a trip home, not that he would ever ask outright but he was very good at hinting. It was always so subtle, “I’m going to forget what you look like soon, bud,” and “next time you’re home, you’re going to have to see what I’ve done to the shop – except by the time you get home next, it’ll probably have changed again.” They were silly reminders of home, candy and a mug, but reminders enough to cause Kurt to get online to check out flights.

Kurt couldn’t remember when the sugar wore off; all he knew was that one moment he was looking at airfare and the next he was woken up by his phone ringing. He was sitting up in bed, in the dark, his laptop still perched on top of his legs, and his vision was a little blurred with sleep as he reached out for the glowing light that he knew was his phone.

“Hello?” he answered, voice rough and gravelly.

“Kurt?” Of course it was Blaine. “I… didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“What time is it?” Kurt cleared his throat, trying to fight the dryness away.

“It’s, well, it’s two in the morning. I was just going to leave a message.”

“What was this message going to say?” Kurt asked, carefully moving his laptop off to the side. He shifted his phone off his shoulder so he could tug at his shirt, dropping it onto the floor once he got it off and nudging his pants down his legs to join it. Part of him felt like maybe he shouldn’t have been doing that while he was on the phone but it was two in the morning and he was going to fall asleep as soon as he hung up, so he didn’t care.

“That I’m glad you got your package,” Blaine said softly. “And I hope you didn’t eat all those Buckeyes at once, because that’s a lot of sugar.”

“Mhmmm well it’s a little late for that,” Kurt replied with a yawn, burrowing down under the blankets and pulled them up to his chin. “They’re all gone, and they were delicious. Thank you. Just what I needed after my week.”

“Was it not a good one?”

“It was fine, just very busy. Very in need of a taste of home by the end. Thank you.”

“What are friends for? I mean, I had very limited time and resources so it wasn’t nearly as great as what you sent me, but I figured… it would work for now.”

“Speaking of…”

“Yes?”

“What… in God’s name…” Kurt paused, rubbing his face. “That shirt, Blaine. I went to school for fashion design, you’ve seen the clothes that I wear, and you got me a shirt that says nothing tips like a cow? Where exactly did you see me wearing that?”

“I had limited resources!” Blaine protested, but he sounded sheepish. “I thought… maybe to sleep in, if nothing else? I don’t know.”

“I don’t sleep in—” Kurt started, but he managed to stop himself before admitting to Blaine that he slept in as little as possible. His brain was too busy interrupting that train of thought to point out that Blaine had kind of admitted to thinking about what he slept in – at least so far as giving him something where that was his suggestion of what to do with it. “I’ll forgive it.”

“Did you really eat all the Buckeyes already?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll send you some more once I’m back in Ohio.”

“Please don’t for a while or I’ll never fully recover,” Kurt groaned, and Blaine chuckled. “This is not funny, Blaine. Sugar coma.”

“So dramatic, Kurt,” he teased. “I wore one of your bow ties tonight.”

“Oh yes?”

“Mhm. The red one  – oh hell, they’re all red, that was helpful – with the herringbone pattern? That one.”

“You broke out of your oh-so traditional t-shirt and jeans? I’m impressed.”

“The good people of Nashville seemed to be up to the challenge. They’re a little more old school down here – they appreciate a good bow tie here and there.”

“I’m glad.” Kurt yawned again, and buried his face against the pillow. “Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“M’tired.”

“Did you want me to sing you a lullaby?” Blaine was teasing, Kurt knew, but he didn’t care.

“Yes please.”

“You… do?”

“You woke me up, it’s only fair.”

“Okay,” Blaine said quietly, and there was a long pause. Kurt thought he might have scared him off, or maybe he would fall asleep before he even started, but then he heard that wonderful pure tone of Blaine’s singing voice, soft at first to the point that Kurt thought he might be imagining it. “I walked across an empty land, I knew the pathway like the back of my hand…”

Kurt had spent an entire night listening to Blaine sing – the first night Rachel had taken him to the Big Bang. It was so different to hear him sing then. Maybe it was the lack of background noise, the lack of accompaniment, the lack of anything that wasn’t just Blaine singing and Kurt lying there listening. He was singing for him. It was just for him and no one else, no performance to a crowd, nothing he was being paid for, just singing for Kurt.

He fell asleep somewhere in the middle, Blaine’s voice singing sweetly in his ear from where the phone was resting, and he didn’t even get the chance to say goodnight. He didn’t hear Blaine finish the song, say his name a few times to check to see if he was still awake before saying, “Sweet dreams, Kurt.”