Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tensions were running high in the loft, that much was clear to Blaine.  Personally, he didn’t want to deal with it all right now, but he couldn’t deny that his nerves were frayed, too.  Cassandra July was cracking down even harder than usual as the end of the semester approached, and his other professors seemed to similarly delight in the stress and panic of their students, assigning more work the closer they came to final exams and evaluations.

Blaine was tired.  He was just recovering from a cold and feared that he’d passed it to Kurt, judging by his boyfriend’s sniffles.  He was worried about Rachel, especially after her confrontation with Finn when they’d gone to Lima to see Grease and after she’d discovered that Cassandra and Brody had slept together.  But if she didn’t stop clopping around the loft in stilettos for no reason he could understand when he was trying to concentrate on studying, he was going to say something they’d both regret.

He and Kurt were sitting at the kitchen table for lunch on the second Sunday of November.  Blaine was taking a break from studying, but he had a throbbing headache.  Santana was lounging on the couch, boots propped up on the coffee table, and Rachel was wandering aimlessly throughout the apartment, heels clicking, and heaving sighs at random moments.

When she drew closer to them, Blaine could see Kurt tensing, his jaw setting, eyes narrowing, lips pursing as his posture became more and more rigid.  He wondered what had Kurt on edge so much, but all he could seem to concentrate on was the click of Rachel’s heels as she walked in front of them.

“Rachel, oh my God, what are you doing?!” Kurt suddenly burst out, throwing his pencil down.

Rachel started and stared at him.  Blaine’s head pounded and he noticed Santana glancing up from her text book.

“Kurt, what –“

“What are you doing, walking around like that in the apartment?  I understand that you’re completely infatuated with your new look, but it’s the middle of November, Rachel.  There’s no one to impress here!”  His eyes bugged out as he looked more closely at her outfit.  “Are you even wearing pants?!”

Rachel flushed bright red as Santana decided to interject and tell Rachel she did look like she was high and forgot to put on half her outfit.

“Excuse me, Kurt,” Rachel said, her voice jumping up in both volume and pitch and making Blaine grit his teeth, “but I don’t think you have any right to tell me what I can and cannot put on my – “

“Since I gave you the makeover in the first place, maybe I do, since you can’t seem to control yourself!” Kurt snapped.  “And what are you laughing at?” He snarled, twisting to face a snickering Santana.

“Kurt…” Blaine tried to quiet him, but gave up and buried his head in his hands.

“…I’m so sick of finding your bras in the shower, Santana!  Why are they there, exactly?  Do you shower with them on?”  Kurt pushed back from the table, making the chair legs screech against the floor.  Blaine cringed.

“God, Hummel, are you so gay that you’re actually allergic to tits?  Like you can’t just pick up a piece of clothing that’s touched a breast and move it?” Santana sneered at him, shutting her book and throwing it on the coffee table with a bang.  “And you should shut your trap, anyway, since I almost broke my neck yesterday tripping over your pants.  Your clothes are everywhere.”

“I have trouble making up my mind what to wear in the morning,” Kurt said defensively, “I work at Vogue now, so the pressure is on to look immaculate at all times.  Besides, you’re exaggerating just to insult me; I always pick up –“

“It’s true,” Rachel said gloatingly, “last week, I screamed when I thought there was some sort of rodent under the TV, but it was one of your fox tail things.”

“Yeah, we all know what your banshee shrieking sounds like, Heidi,” Santana told her nastily, “since you insist on yodeling every day before the sun comes up.”

 “Blaine!  Don’t you have anything to say about all this?”

Blaine slowly opened his eyes at Kurt’s indignant shout.  He took in Kurt’s flaring nostrils, Santana wiggling her head like she was ready for a fight, and Rachel gaping at Santana open mouthed.

He sighed.  “I think we just all need to calm down and -“

“Oh, stop it,” Kurt said, exasperated, “stop acting like nothing bothers you and you’re so much more mature than the rest of us, Blaine.  It drives me insane!”

“Fine,” Blaine spat out, standing up and walking to the cupboard where they kept medical supplies, “if you really want to know, Kurt, I have a problem with your sketches!”

Kurt gasped and looked at him as though he’d just revealed he was hiding a dead body under their bed.

“They are spread out all throughout the loft, especially our room! I was late forCassandra July’s class two days ago because I couldn’t find my satchel, since it was hidden under a pile of papers!  I love your work, but can’t you keep anything tidy any more?  And Rachel, why do you wear those heels inside?  You’re scuffing up the floors and the sound is incredibly annoying, especially when you’re walking around for no other reason I can figure out besides displaying yourself to the room.  Santana, I don’t even know where to start: is it the way-too-loud phone sex with Brittany?  The way you wipe make up off your fingers onto our towels?  No, what has to be the worst is how to can’t seem to close a single. damn. cupboard!”

He stopped himself when he realized he was actually yelling, and the three of them stared wide-eyed at him for just a moment as he swallowed an Advil.  Then all four of them exploded at once.

“You and Hummel are just as loud when you think no one’s around!”

“-don’t need that much gel; it’s taking up all the room in the bathroom vanity-“

“-your boots are always leaving drops of dirty water on the coffee table-“

“-can never remember to put the seat down and it’s disgusting-“

“-I usually think putting your cold feet on mine is cute, Kurt, but when you get home so late-“

“-stop trying to push your vegan recipes on me, hobbit, when I know you ate meat for Brody, in more than one way-“

“-crude language is just unbearable-“

“-at least I always make sure the kitchen is clean, unlike-“

“Okay, enough!” Blaine yelled, covering his ears with his hands.  “You are all…just…too loud.  I really can’t be here right now.”  He walked into his and Kurt’s room and grabbed some clothes, throwing them in his satchel, and put on his coat.  He came back out into the main area and picked up his books.

“Blaine!” Kurt still sounded angry, but now also hurt, and Blaine frowned.  “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go stay with Mike for a little while, until this place becomes bearable to live in again,” Blaine said, regretting the sting of his tone immediately at the hurt look on Kurt’s face, which rapidly hardened into one of defiance.

“Fine.  I’m leaving, too,” Kurt said, his chin jutting out before he turned on his heel and walked stiffly towards their room.

“I am so not being stuck alone with Berry,” Santana said, grabbing some of her things.

“Well, I’m not leaving!  I’m tired of people thinking they can just walk all over me!” Blaine heard Rachel shouting as he pulled open the door.  He could hear the tears in her voice, but despite that, and despite the injured look Kurt had given him, he still walked down the hall with a frustrated shake of his head.

***

Mike was, unsurprisingly, an accommodating and sympathetic host.  His roommate spent most nights with his girlfriend, so Mike’s dorm was blissfully quiet, and Blaine’s headaches quickly went away.

On the second night, though, he woke up close to eleven spooning his pillow.  He sighed, missing Kurt’s warmth, and tried to get back to sleep, but he couldn’t.  He kept thinking about how Kurt seemed to be coming down with his cold, and he wondered if he was doing alright now.  Kurt was good at taking care of people like him and Burt, but when it came to his own well-being, he could sometimes be neglectful.  Was he drinking enough fluids?  Did he take some cold medicine before he left the loft?  Did his cold toes need warming?  He stared out the window at the couple of stars in the sky and wondered what Kurt was doing.  If he was somewhere where he could see the stars, if he was well enough to appreciate the pretty sight.

Mike found him a half hour later, in the dormitory’s small gym, working over the lone punching bag.

“Hey,” Mike said, getting Blaine’s attention.  “You okay?”

Blaine stopped, blowing out a breath.  “Yeah.  I just couldn’t sleep.  Figured I’d burn off some energy.”

“We haven’t really talked since you came yesterday.  Is everything alright with you and Kurt?”

Mike sounded so concerned.  He was a good friend, but Blaine couldn’t help but smile a little.  The both of them cared a lot about each other’s relationships; Mike and Tina and he and Kurt were in the high school sweethearts club, together since junior year and determined to defy the odds.

“It’s just a little fight,” he assured him, “in fact, it’s all of us in the loft.  We’re just getting on each other’s nerves a lot lately.  I think it’s just growing pains.  Getting used to living with someone is always a challenge, and with this particular group of people…”

“Yeah, I can see it being kind of intense. “ Mike nodded solemnly.  “With Santana, and Rachel…” He smirked a little.  “Kurt.”

“Watch it,” Blaine told him good-naturedly, “but yes, there are some big personalities and they’re bound to clash.  They did enough back in high school.  And I’m not exactly Mr. Calm and Considerate when I’ve reached my limit.”

“Well, it’ll probably blow over soon,” Mike offered.

Blaine smiled ruefully.  “I miss Kurt already.  And Rachel and Santana, honestly.  I think I’ll go back tomorrow.  That’s kind of why I came here; I wanted to work out my stress.”

Mike nodded, pursing his lips.  “You’ve always seemed kind of intense when you use the punching bag,” he told Blaine, “would you be cool with trying something different?”

Mike took him to the small dance classroom students used for practice in his dorm building.

“Whenever I’m having a hard time, dancing almost always makes me feel better,” Mike told Blaine as they stretched.  “Sometimes I can get pretty emotional.”

“I know what that’s like,” Blaine said, “I get like that with singing once in a while.”

Mike nodded.  “Other times, though, it’s just for fun.  It just feels good to move and forget everything that’s bothering me.”

Blaine understood that, too, and while he was nowhere near as talented as Mike, he did love to dance.  “Let’s do it.”

“Just try to keep up, Anderson,” Mike grinned as he walked to the stereo and put in a CD.

“And you.”  Blaine smirked as the opening bars of the song filled the room and pulled off his sweatshirt.  “Because we’re gonna sing it, too.”

Mike rippled his body in response, showing off.

“You know this boogie is for real,” Blaine crooned, raising his eyebrows in invitation for Mike to take the floor.

“I used to buy my faith in worship,” Mike sang, moving easily with the music, “but then my chance to heaven slipped.  I used to worry about the future, but then I threw my caution to the wind…”

Blaine laughed at his antics.  Mike was both technically flawless and engaging, with the way he hammed up his movements and pulled faces.

“Dance!” Blaine jumped in, striking a pose.  “Nothing left for me to do but dance off these bad times I’m going through, just dance!”

“Got canned heat in my heels tonight, baby…” they sang together.

Blaine usually took out his anger and hurt on the punching bag, if he didn’t feel like singing.  But Mike was right; there was something freeing in getting out of his head and into his body and just pushing the stress out of focus.

“…so I’ve got to hang out all my hang-ups…”

They executed a flurry of footwork, combinations that let them meet halfway in terms of difficulty, throwing their bodies into it completely, with jumps and pas de bourrees and spins.

“…gonna dance, gonna dance my blues away tonight…”

They high-fived when the song ended, both breathing hard and sweating but grinning nonetheless.

“Thanks man,” Blaine said, “that did help.”

“If only your room mates were all so lucky to have a session with Doctor Dance,” Mike said, wiggling his body obnoxiously.

Blaine laughed.  “I hope Tina knows how much of a dork her boyfriend is.”

Mike shoved his arm.  “Does Kurt?”

“I think so.” Blaine smiled.  “We’re kind of dorks together.”

Chapter Text

“I know we’re not exactly besties or anything.  So thanks for letting me hang out; it’s pretty cool,” Santana told Kevser with a shrug of her shoulder.

The roommate situation at the loft had gotten so bad that Santana had been two seconds away from whaling on Rachel with her textbook when she reminded herself that she was wearing the big girl pants now and she could just walk away from Rachel’s whining, crying, self-pitying ass for a couple days to come down from her rage place.  Kurt all riled up was hilarious to see; he practically shook with self-righteous anger, and even though she was pissed at him, too, she’d have to remind herself to bait him more often.  Blaine, on the other hand, was actually a little scary when he was mad, not that she’d ever tell him that.  It was probably just because he was so eye-rollingly gentlemanly and dapper most of the time that the contrast startled her, but Santana guessed that since their boxing lessons were giving her a better idea of what he was capable of in a fight, that might have affected her perception, too.

In any case, Blaine had said he was staying with Mike, and Santana figured she’d infringe on Julliard hospitality, too, which was how she had found herself walking back from the dorm showers to Kevser’s room in her pyjamas.

Kevser turned to face her with a smile as she shut the door behind her.  “Seriously, Santana, it’s no problem.”  She was running a brush through her long, russet-colored hair.  “I was lucky enough to get a single this year, so why shouldn’t I share the space with a poor freshie in need?”

Santana laughed when Kevser winked at her and sat down on the cot they’d set up for her to sleep on, cracking her back a little and stretching out her legs.

“Nice legs, by the way.”

Santana tore her eyes from the ceiling to raise her eyebrow at Kevser.  “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I hope I didn’t offend.  I just mean…”  Kevser nodded at Santana’s bare legs and Santana cursed herself for the warmth in her cheeks.  “More power to you; I just didn’t get the impression that that was really your style.”

Confused, Santana looked down at her legs, and then snorted out a breath at the fuzz there.  “Oh, that.  I’m doing No-Shave November for cervical cancer research.  It is coming in quite nicely, huh?” She smiled proudly.  “It isn’t really my style, but what can I say? I’m more than hot enough to pull off the cave woman look.”

Kevser grinned at her.  “Can I feel?”

“Sure.”  She’d been demanding Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine feel the progress over the past couple weeks, and Santana wasn’t exactly one to shy away from bragging, no matter what the subject.

Kevser put her brush down and pushed her long hair over her shoulder, moving to sit beside Santana on the cot.  She placed a gentle hand low on Santana’s shin and then slid her palm up, the bristles catching on her skin.

“Prickly,” she whispered, and they both snickered.

And suddenly Kevser was very close to her.  Their lips were just inches away, and Santana froze, her eyes meeting Kevser’s, and she felt the hand on her leg slide up higher, cupping just above her knee as Kevser leaned in closer.

“What are you doing?” Santana asked, and Kevser paused.

“Kissing you,” she replied with a teasing look, like it was just a given, “isn’t that what…?”

Santana didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her, but she didn’t do anything.  She didn’t tell Kevser to back off before she got her ass handed to her, she didn’t try to throw her across the room.  She just sat there and stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Oh crap,” Kevser said, pulling away.  She put a hand over her face.  “Wow, I’m sorry.  This is a little embarrassing, isn’t it?”  She giggled awkwardly, hastily moving back to her own bed.  “I guess I misread.  I have this thing where I get an idea in my head and I go with it and I’m all enthusiastic so it doesn’t immediately occur to me when others…aren’t, and then it inevitably ends with-“

“Okay, Chatty Kathy, calm down,” Santana said, shaking her head as she found her own voice again.  She folded her legs up onto the cot, still trying to make sense of what had just happened.  “Don’t get me wrong.”  She tried for some of her standard bravado.  “With your big doe eyes and great rack, you’ve got a lot going for you.”

“But…”

“But Brittany.  My girlfriend back in Ohio.”  Santana blushed but she straightened up, proud.  “I love her.”

Kevser smiled and nodded, hugging her knees.  “She must be pretty special.”

“She is.”  Santana let out a huff of laughter and shook her head ruefully, cheeks still burning.  “You know my motto used to be ‘never say no’?”

If it had been Puck she was talking to, or some frat douche, or maybe even some other horny college girl who wanted to jump her bones (Santana was still trying to process the fact that she knew a girl besides herself and Brittany who seemed to like to get her lady mack on and that girl had just hit on her), they’d probably say “Damn, guess I missed out” or “Can’t that be your motto now?” but Kevser seemed to get it.

“And Brittany changed that,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

“She did,” Santana told her.  “And, well…I did, too.”

Santana wasn’t sure why she was being so candid with someone she didn’t know very well, but despite the near-kiss, there was something comforting about Kevser.  She was older, she’d been in New York at least a couple years as far as Santana knew, and now it seemed that she had something important in common with Santana.  She’d never really had anyone besides Brittany, anyone who was just a friend who could understand where she was coming from, that she could talk to.

“Anyway,” she said, standing up, “if you want me to get out of here so you can find a girl who’s free to bury her face in that cleavage –“

“No! No, please stay,” Kevser said, waving her hands.  “I’d hate to feel like I freaked you out.  You still need a place to unwind away from your roomies, right?  I hope I didn’t creep you out.”

Santana smirked and sat back down.  “If you were some perv, I’d already be out the door and you’d be sporting the black eye your creepy ass deserved.”

Kevser stared at her.  “You’re kind of intense, you know that?”

“Yep,” Santana said mildly, examining her nails before smiling slowly at Kevser.  “Intensely awesome.”

“So I guess I might be lucky enough to call the intensely awesome Santana Lopez my friend?” Kevser asked, the corners of her mouth turning up.

She didn’t think anyone had ever straight up asked to be her friend.  Not since freshman year, when Brittany had come up to her after Cheerios practice one day and given her a painted macaroni necklace, declaring they were best friends and linking their pinkies together.

Santana cocked her head to the side.  “I think you could.”

“Cool.”  Kevser reached over to shut off her lamp. “And if you ever need a place to stay in the future, my door’s always open.”

“Wanky,” Santana drawled, and she heard Kevser snort with laughter as she settled against her pillows.

“I don’t see how your roommates could ever get tired of you.”

As Santana shut her eyes, a small part of her hoped that they wouldn’t still be tired of her after they’d had time to cool off.

***

The next morning, Santana arrived late for class at NYU because Rachel’s morning scales hadn’t woken her up on time.

When she dribbled coffee on her shirt at lunch and reached in her bag for the stain remover stick that was always there, it wasn’t.  Because she always took it out and left it on the kitchen counter to mess with Kurt ever since he first snuck it in her bag, and every morning he put it back in before she left for school.  Except he hadn’t this morning.

And when she was back at Julliard, getting dinner with Kevser, she spotted Blaine with Mike across the room, and had to resist the urge to get their attention and wave them over.  What was worse, she actually felt sad about it.

Chapter Text

The first night Kurt spent sleeping at Vogue was stressful.  He had to sneak in, remember where the security cameras were so he could avoid them, make sure he didn’t move anything out of place, and make do with some salad he’d left in the fridge in the kitchen the previous Friday, since he’d forgotten to pick something up for dinner along the way.  All while worrying about being discovered and fighting off a cold even though he’d forgotten to bring cold medicine. 

And then there was waking up in the morning to a crick in his neck from sleeping on one of the couches instead of Blaine’s sleepy mumbling and soft lips, followed by getting ready in the staff bathroom, feeling like a complete loser as he washed his hair in the sink and later told Chase he’d felt like coming in early to explain why he was the first one at the office.

After everyone had gone for the evening and even the custodian had left, Kurt felt much more confident the second night.  Maybe his nerves had been so frazzled the day before because he’d come directly to Vogue after the big fight with Blaine, Santana, and Rachel, and the sting of Blaine’s words about finding the loft unbearable to live in still grating on him. 

He put on his pyjamas and his silk robe, made himself some tea, and spent the evening touching up some of his sketches, but there wasn’t much to do, and he felt so drained from the night previous and his long day that he curled up on the couch to sleep at half past eight.

He was just drifting off to sleep when a loud bang followed by someone shouting his name woke him and he jolted up, falling off the couch in the process.  Panicking, he squinted as the florescent lights switched on and scrambled to his feet at the sight of Isabelle, who was picking her bag up off the floor.

“Kurt?” She said again.  “What are you still doing here?  In your…pyjamas?”

Kurt stared at her, wide-eyed, twisting his hands together in front of him.  “I-I can explain…okay, I can’t really explain, because obviously I’ve been sleeping here, and I know this is highly unprofessional and this is the second time you’ve caught me at the office when I shouldn’t be here, so if I’ve lost my internship, I beg that you have mercy and not black-ball me in the fashion industry…” he babbled as Isabelle just looked at him, flabbergasted.

“You’ve been sleeping here? This isn’t the first night?” Isabelle pointed at the floor, raising her eyebrows.  At the guilty nod of Kurt’s head, Isabelle’s brows drew together.  “Kurt, are you alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine,” he told her, “I just can’t be at the loft right now.”

“I see.  Well, you can’t stay here.”

“Of course,” Kurt rushed to agree, relieved that his job didn’t seem to be in jeopardy, “I didn’t want to spend money on a hotel room, but maybe I can find a cheap motel for the-“

“No, no, no, don’t be silly,” Isabelle said, walking forward to grasp his shoulders, “you can stay with me.  I have a guest room and everything, so you can get a good night’s sleep on a real bed, instead of one of these godawful couches.”

Kurt blinked in surprise.  “I – really?”  He knew good manners would require at least trying to turn down the offer, but he was far too excited at the prospect to demur.  “This is unbelievably nice of you, Isabelle; thank you so much!”

She smiled and squeezed his shoulders. “Why don’t you get changed while I get some things from my office and we can head down to the cab together?”

Kurt blushed at the reminder that he was standing in front of his boss in his pyjamas, but he agreed to the plan, resisting the impulse to text Blaine about this amazing turn of events.

***

 “So,” Isabelle said, carrying a tea tray over to her couch, where Kurt was sitting, legs crossed and hands folded over the knee.  He didn’t think he could sit any straighter if he had a yardstick taped to his back.  “You want to tell me why you were sleeping at the office?”  Isabelle handed Kurt his tea (he mouthed his “thank you”, sniffling slightly from his stuffed nose) and sat down next to him, curling her legs up underneath her body.  “Is everything alright with your boyfriend?”

“It’s nothing serious,” he told her, “just room mates annoying each other, mostly.  Blaine and I will be fine, I’m sure.  I just hope he doesn’t really think living with me is unbearable.”

“Impossible,” Isabelle declared, smiling against the rim of her mug of tea.  “So what has been so awful that you’d rather sleep where you work than at home with your boyfriend?”

Kurt sighed.  “I guess I’ve just been…stressed, and that ended up making those little habits room mates can have seem so much more irritating.”  Isabelle hummed thoughtfully, and Kurt hastened to explain:  “I-it’s not Vogue, not work, exactly.  I’m so grateful for this opportunity; I never thought anything like this would happen to me, at least not so quickly.”

“Well, believe it, pal.  Because New York moves fast, and when it moves right for you, you’ve got to hang on to it, if it’s what you really want.”

“I know, I know,” Kurt told her, gripping his mug tightly, “I guess that’s just part of it.  Things are finally going so right, and I’m…I’m scared.  That it’ll go wrong, that I’ll ruin it.  And normally, I’d talk with Blaine and my dad about it, but Blaine is so busy right now with school, and NYADA is so stressful for him, and my dad is so far away.  And anyways, shouldn’t I be growing up?  Now that I’m finally here, living my dream, should I really miss my old life so much?  There was so much I hated about it, but…”

Isabelle was watching him closely, her expression thoughtful.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you all of this,” Kurt said, hoping the heat in his cheeks didn’t show too much, “I’m rapidly losing all my New York sophistication cred.”

Isabelle laughed.  “You forget I’m not originally from New York.  I know how it is, finally getting what you’ve wanted so badly and thinking everything else will just fade away.  And Kurt, you are not the only person in this industry that is terrified about making mistakes.  When I first moved here, I was completely on my own.  I missed my family so much, and yeah, everything was new and exciting, but it was also incredibly intimidating.  I was so nervous about my first job, I think my hair started to fall out.”

Kurt put his hand to his chest in shock and sympathy.

Isabelle smiled and shook her head.  “But do you know what I’d do?  Whenever I was feeling particularly lonely or scared, I’d sit on the fire escape of my tiny apartment and look up at the sky.  Of course the smog and lights don’t really make for great stargazing, but now and then the sky would be clear enough that I could see the stars.”  Isabelle tilted her head and looked out her window.  Kurt followed her gaze, his lips crooking up into a soft smile at the clear sky above, a few starts twinkling alongside the moon.  “And I’d tell myself that the people I care about, the people who love me, they can always see the same stars as me.  I’d feel closer to them, and I’d feel like I could do anything I wanted, because they’d always be there for me.”  She looked at Kurt, rolling her eyes.  “I know that sounds unbelievably corny.  I’ve shattered the illusion of the hardened New Yorker.”

“Not at all,” Kurt said, “in fact, it’s just the sort of silly, lovely thing that I find romantic.”

“Well,” Isabelle said, getting up with a twinkle in her eye, “since you feel that way, I guess I can tell you there was a song, too.”

Kurt put down his tea, grinning.  “Naturally.”

Isabelle selected a CD from her collection and put it in the player hooked up to her sound system before returning to Kurt and pulling him up onto his feet as the music played.

They walked closer to the window, Isabelle pushing Kurt gently to look out and up at the sky.

“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are,” she sang.

Kurt smiled wistfully, thinking of how far he’d come from the bullied gay kid in small-town Ohio.  Only 19 and interning at Vogue, suggesting successful innovations.  Living with the love of his life and friends in a loft in New York.  “Anything your heart desires will come to you…”  He sang lower and raspier than he would normally, because of the tickle in his throat.

Their voices formed a pretty, gentle harmony as they sang together, Kurt leaning against the back of the couch, his eyes tearing up while he focused on one bright star in particular.  He wiped at his eyes, thinking of Blaine, and how he might be looking at the same star.  Thinking of his dad back in Lima, and how much easier it would be to see the stars there.

“Fate is kind; She brings to those who love,” Isabelle sang, staring out the window with a far-off, wistful expression on her face.

“…the sweet fulfillment of their secret longing…” Kurt finished the stanza, closing his eyes on the image of the star and suddenly wanting Blaine there right beside him, wishing and singing and dreaming together.

“When you wish upon a star,” he and Isabelle sang as one, “your dreams come true!”

Kurt looked away as Isabelle ducked her head and wiped away a tear.

“That was beautiful, Kurt,” she said, “you have a wonderful voice.”

“Thank you for sharing all this with me,” Kurt told her, “I’m honored.”

“That’s it, you know,” Isabelle told him, “sharing.  I’m sure you and Blaine share a lot of things.”  Kurt smiled, blushing.  “And if I can give a little advice?  I don’t see why that should change when you’re both stressed out and worried about things in your life.  So don’t keep these things from him, Kurt.  I’m sure he wants to know all about it.”

And vice-versa, Kurt thought.  Blaine kept his cool so much more easily than anyone else in the apartment most of the time, but Kurt wanted to know all the things that caused him frustration or anger or hurt.  He wanted to be there for him, share it all with him.

Chapter Text

Rachel was miserable.  Finn had disappeared, abandoned her for months and then shown up at the worst possible time, only to run away again, forcing her to chase after him for what felt like the millionth time in her life, so that she could finally move on with her life.  And she thought she had, with Brody, but then he’d slept with the teacher who made a point to sneer about her nose, her lack of sex appeal, and her overall inferiority in the area of dance on a regular basis.  And now, she’d managed to send her room mates running for the hills as well.  She could understand Santana; the two of them had never gotten along, and even now she didn’t expect them to ever be bosom buddies.  Kurt and Blaine, however…

Rachel flopped down on the couch, all alone in the loft.  She’d cried herself to sleep two previous nights, after she’d spent hours waiting for them to come back each evening.  But it seemed like everyone was abandoning her these days.  Even a phone call to her dads hadn’t lifted her spirits much.

She’d spent Monday and today dodging both Brody and Blaine at NYADA (the latter was a bit difficult since they had more than one class together, but she knew how to give the cold shoulder when she wanted to, even when he’d waved to her that morning), and she’d just skipped her afternoon classes today (except her second class with Cassandra; she didn’t want to be skinned alive).  Now she was regretting it, because she was all alone in the loft for the afternoon, and it looked like it would be another meal alone that evening.

The horrible thing was, she was tempted to call Brody up and hint that she’d like to get dinner.  She shook her head and glared at the floor for a moment, but then her eyes slid to her phone.  She picked it up and scrolled down until his name was highlighted, her thumb hovering over the CALL button before she threw it down on the couch with a frustrated huff.

She knew what she needed.  It was always the answer.  She always felt better after she sang, even if it didn’t change her circumstances.

After selecting a song on her iPod and pressing PLAY, she tugged at the sleeve of her top, fretting as the first instrumental notes filled the open space of the loft.  Already she wished she wearing something to suit the enormity of the song, but she soon forgot about the pageantry of it when she started to sing.

“Drink the wine, my darling, you said, take your time, and consume all of it…”

There was a picture of Kurt with his family hanging on the wall near the TV.  Rachel continued to sing as she walked towards it, heart clenching at the sight of Finn’s dopey smile and sparkling brown eyes.  He had an arm thrown around Kurt’s shoulders and the other around his mom’s.  Rachel knew what it felt like to have that solid weight draped across her shoulders.  When that arm’s place was around her, when Finn’s embrace belonged to her.

“I breathe you in again just to feel you underneath my skin…”

Rachel turned away, her eyes brimming with tears, and she pressed her hands to her cheeks, her voice wavering slightly over the words.  Finn would always be a special part of her life, but she couldn’t go back.  Even if she wanted to, he’d made it very clear after Grease that she wasn’t wanted.  The only problem was, she didn’t know how to move on.  Her eyes fell on her phone again, on Brody’s name.  Would it really be so bad to try dating him again?  She was so angry, so hurt, but hadn’t Finn hurt her?  Was a guy even worth it if he couldn’t break your heart?

“I tell myself that you’re no good for me, I wish you well, but desire never leaves…”

She sang to the window as cars passed by down below outside and the sky answered her anguish with gloomy clouds and smog.  She threw her arms out, tears streaming down her face.  This wasn’t what New York was supposed to be like.  This wasn’t what her dreams were supposed to be like.  She didn’t want to be frustrated and discouraged at school. 

She really didn’t want to be lonely.

“The sweet escape is always laced with the familiar taste of poison…”

***

Two hours later, Rachel’s stomach was starting to rumble, but she felt much better.  She’d showered and changed, done her hair and make-up, and she had made up her mind.  She was going out, and she was going to find her friends and demand that they come back.  Rachel Berry was an adult, a mature woman who took control of her own life, and the first step was finding Kurt and Blaine and convincing them to come home (they were the first step, because Rachel Berry might be an adult, but no one should have to face Santana alone).

Squaring her shoulders, she swung the door open, only to find herself face-to-face with Kurt, his keys in his hand.  He looked at her in surprise.

“You’re back,” Rachel said, breath catching in her throat.

“I am,” he said cautiously, eyebrows raised.

Her eyes stung, but a big smile stretched across her face.  “C-can I give you a hug?”

Kurt’s face softened, and he held his arms out.  Rachel threw herself at him, burying her face against his shoulder as he patted her back lightly.

“Did you enjoy having the loft to yourself?” Kurt asked as they drew back and walked back inside.

Rachel crossed her arms, pouting.  “It was terrible.  Don’t ever leave again.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“I feel like celebrating!” Rachel said, grasping Kurt’s hand and bouncing a little in her heels.  “Should we go out for dinner?”

Kurt glanced at the door.  “Hmm.  Not yet.  I think we should stick around a little longer.”  Rachel frowned at him in confusion.  “How about we sing a song?”

Brightening again, Rachel nodded eagerly.  “I’m sure I can find the perfect song for us to express our deep remorse over our actions on Sunday and gratitude for our mutual forgiveness,” she said, striding towards the iPod dock, but Kurt beat her to it.

“Oh, no, Miss O’Hara, I don’t think we need dramatics right now.  I was thinking of something a bit more upbeat to mark our reunion.”

Rachel raised her eyebrow, but then smiled and sighed happily at his song selection.

“What would you do if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?”Kurt sang, tucking her arm through his and leading her to the middle of the room.

“Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song, and I’ll try not to sing out of key,”Rachel replied with laughter in her voice.

“Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends…” they harmonized on the chorus, swaying, and Rachel leaned up to kiss Kurt on the cheek fondly.

“What do I do when my love is away?” Rachel sang.

Kurt twirled her.  “Does it worry you to be alone?”

“How do I feel by the end of the day?”

Rachel giggled, spinning around to face the door just as it opened, revealing Blaine, smiling, and Santana, shaking her head in amusement.  Rachel gasped in happy surprise, clutching her hands to her chest.

Kurt’s hands found her shoulders and pushed her towards them.  “Are you sad because you’re on your own?”

All four of them sang together:  “No, I get by with a little help from my friends…”

Kurt and Rachel grabbed Blaine and Santana’s hands, pulling them into the room.  Blaine and Rachel hugged and Santana shoved Kurt’s arm playfully.

“Do you need anybody?” Rachel smiled at the pretty blend of her voice with Santana’s.

“I just need someone to love!” Blaine answered, kissing the back of Kurt’s hand obnoxiously.

“Could it be anybody?” The girls sang, and Santana wagged her finger at the boys.

“I want somebody to love!” Kurt pecked Blaine on the lips.

Rachel knew things were sort of a mess for her right now, despite her determination to be the grown-up, sophisticated Rachel that belonged in New York.  But relief washed over her as she looked at Kurt, Blaine, and yes, even Santana, back home with her, laughing and singing through a song about friendship and love.  This was her New York family, and things just seemed more manageable when she knew they were by her side.