The brisk New York City air surrounds Blaine Anderson and he shudders against the cold, gripping his tattered gray sweatshirt and pulling it closer to his body. Across the street is a small church with the wordsSoup Kitchen printed on a large banner that hangs above the entrance. Blaine looks up and down the street, checking for cars, before he walks over to it. He goes up the stone stairs and grabs the handle of the front door.

The stinging cold of the handle goes up Blaine's arm on contact and he wretches his hands off. He curses under his breath and cups his hands over his mouth. He exhales, hoping to warm up his hands, but his body just shivers as every hot breath is instantly replaced by the freezing wind. Blaine knocks on the door. The sounds echo within, but there is no response. He tries again and again no response. Blaine groans and bangs on the door hard, but no one comes to the door. A few people on the street give him curious glances before shuffling away.

Blaine looks around and then his eyes fall on a bulletin in front of the door which says "We're here from 5 am to 11 pm. May the Lord bless you. Have a nice day".

Blaine walks down the stairs and glances at the large clock on top of the church. 11:43. He remembers when he was young and his mother used to read him fairytales. He never admitted it to anyone, but his favorite was Cinderella. Something about it just captured him, so every night he would insist his mother read him the story about the poor girl who becomes a princess.

Blaine snorts derisively. It's kind of ironic now that that was his favorite story as a kid since he ended up living the opposite. He grew up in the lap of luxury, in a large house in Ohio with his mother, father, and older brother Cooper. All that had changed when they were on their way to California for a wedding and their plane crashed. Blaine couldn't go on the trip with them because the date of wedding coincided with the day he was supposed to take his SATs. He had found out what happened to his family an hour before the exam.

Seventeen foster homes later, he was living in New York with his new family, the Wilsons, until they had kicked him out after him and their biological son Eddie in bed together, naked. Since he was almost eighteen at the time, his social worker decided to wait it out until his birthday when he would no longer be the state's problem.

That's how he ended up where he is now with no home, no education, no family, and no real chance of survival.

Two guys stumble past him, clinging to each other. They're talking loudly and their words are slurred. One of them is tall and thin with pale skin and chestnut brown hair. His violet boots clink on the ground, echoing throughout the nearly deserted street. The other one is a bit shorter, but just as thin, with bleached blonde hair. Blaine can hear their conversation clearly as they walk down the street.

"Come on, Kurt. Give me my last kiss of the year," the blonde is saying. Blaine looks the other boy up and down. Well, he definitely does look like a Kurt.

"Not in the middle of the street. We'll get hit by a car and die," Kurt says. Blaine notes that he doesn't sound like a New Yorker. The other guy, however, does.

"I don't care if I die as long as I get the pleasure of kissing you," the blonde murmurs, burying his head in Kurt's neck. They stop walking and stand at the end of the sidewalk, facing each other and hugging close.

"Alex, you're the cheesiest," Kurt teases.

"Well, you make me cheesy," Alex coos, looking up at Kurt through his eyelashes. He lightly nips Kurt's neck and Kurt lets out a moan that makes Blaine blush.

Blaine feels weird for listening in on their conversation, but he can't help it. It takes his mind off his achingly empty stomach and deep down inside, he knows what they have is what he truly wants. He wants to walk down the street drunk with the person he loves. He wants a Kurt or an Alex to make jokes with as they make their way home. Blaine always tries to tell himself that he's not lonely and he doesn't believe in love, but seeing the two men in the street together like this brings back feelings he thought he had buried when the Wilsons kicked him out.

"Alex, stop, we're in public," Kurt says.

"Alex, stop, we're in public," Alex mimics. Alex slides his hands down Kurt's back until they rest over Kurt's ass which he gives a little squeeze. Kurt yelps and playfully hits him on the shoulder.

"Stop! There are homeless people around," Kurt says. Alex lets go of Kurt and his eyes scan the area until they land on Blaine.

"Oy!" he calls. "You enjoying the show?" Blaine averts his eyes and stares to the ground.

"Don't be a douche, Alex," Blaine hears Kurt say. "I'd stare too if I saw two guys groping each other in the middle of the street."

"Where are you going?" Alex asks, but Kurt ignores him. The next thing Blaine sees is Kurt's boots on the ground in front of him. Kurt gently touches his shoulder and Blaine tenses suddenly which causes Kurt to take a step back. Kurt lets out a breath and Blaine looks up at him.

"Sir, uh, are you hungry?" Kurt asks Blaine. Blaine blinks at him. He glances around to make sure he's actually the one that Kurt is talking to.

"He's probably a junkie," Alex says from his position down the street. Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Look, I have an extra sandwich in my bag and I was going to save it for tomorrow, but I think you need it more than me," Kurt says. He pulls a turkey sandwich tightly wrapped in saran wrap out of his bag and Blaine stares at it, unbelieving. "Go on, take it. It's safe, I promise," Kurt urges. Blaine looks him in the eyes and something in Kurt's blue-gray eyes tells Blaine to trust him.

Blaine takes the sandwich and swallows thickly. "Th-thank you," he stammers. Kurt smiles, the sides of his eyes crinkling and Blaine can't help but note how attractive he looks when he smiles.

"You're welcome," Kurt says. "Happy New Year." And in a flash, he's by Alex's side again. The boys walk off, hand in hand, as Blaine takes a seat on the steps of the church and carefully unwraps the sandwich. He breaks out into a smile. He's not going to go hungry. He can hardly believe it. He's not going to die.

Blaine decides to take a nibble and save the rest for later, but the moment his teeth sink into the soft bread and the taste of turkey and mayonnaise explodes on his tongue, he can't help himself. He wolfs it all down in seconds. Blaine leans back on the steps, propped up on his elbows, and lets out an elated sigh.

But suddenly, his stomach lurches violently and there's a sharp pain in his chest. He gasps, getting to his feet and tries to breathe in deeply to settle his stomach, but the cold air brings him no relief.

Blaine vomits, the taste of fresh food unfamiliar to his stomach. No, he can't go hungry. He tries to keep it in, but his body has other plans. In an instant, everything he ate is pooled around his feet. He hears the church bell ding loudly above him, the sound ringing through the air.

Blaine vomits, the taste of fresh food unfamiliar to his stomach. No, he can't go hungry. He tries to keep it in, but his body has other plans. In an instant, everything he ate is pooled around his feet. He hears the church bell ding loudly above him, the sound ringing through the air.

"Happy New Year!" someone drunkenly shouts. There are a few hollers and whoops, but Blaine ignores everything and stares in the direction of the boy that gave him the food. He wonders what his year will be like, or if they would ever meet again. Blaine doubts it. He's not even sure he'll be able to make it past a few more days if his body keeps rejecting food.

It's midnight. No golden chariots turn back into pumpkins and no large horses turn into mice. There's no fairy godmother looking out for him and giving him a taste of the good life. He's not Cinderella and there's no enchanting prince to come whisk him away.