Chapter Text
It was Monday, and ever since I had become Professor Fiore’s student, I had been accustomed to waking up at five every weekday morning to do my vocal exercises. That particular Monday, however, I was awake at five for a different reason: I wanted to prepare a special breakfast.
After all, it was Sebastian’s first day at his new school, and it would also be the first breakfast we shared alone in our new home.
I made my own version of Eggs Benedict, using whole-grain toast and turkey ham, along with a seasonal fruit salad and two cups of coffee brewed from freshly ground Brazilian beans. I also set out two bowls of Greek yogurt and cereal, because I knew Sebastian would need plenty of energy to get through his first day.
Then, because apparently sending my boyfriend to school without enough food to survive a minor natural disaster was unacceptable to me, I prepared his lunch as well: a stainless-steel bottle filled with a chilled red-berry smoothie, two rye-bread sandwiches with chicken salad and fresh vegetables, and a thermos of pumpkin soup made with carrots, potatoes, freshly ground black pepper and sour cream.
When everything was ready, I went to wake Sebastian.
He followed me to the dining table looking decidedly unimpressed by the existence of anything before seven in the morning. The moment he saw what I had prepared, however, his expression softened.
He wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.
“You’re my favorite person in the entire world.”
“I love you too,” I replied with a broad smile. “Now sit down before everything gets cold. I’ve already packed your lunch and some snacks. After breakfast, you need to shower, get dressed, put on some cologne, fix your hair and pose for photographs in your new uniform.”
Sebastian stared at me.
“I still can’t believe you packed my backpack.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Kurt, I’m serious.” He pointed his fork at me. “I’m your boyfriend, not your child. This breakfast is wonderful, but starting tomorrow, you wake me up before you start cooking. We’re supposed to share the work around here.”
I smiled affectionately. Sebastian had made a point of learning to cook several dishes over the summer precisely because he wanted our domestic responsibilities to be divided fairly.
“I’ll take advantage of your absence today to start organizing the closets and visit a few antique shops. There’s no point unpacking all the boxes from Ohio yet, because we’re going to need more shelving. I already have a fairly good idea of what I want.”
“I wish I could do all of that with you,” Sebastian said with a sigh before taking another bite. “These eggs are incredible, by the way. What did you pack for lunch?”
“A red-berry smoothie, chicken-salad sandwiches and your favorite pumpkin soup.”
“You’re the best.”
“I know.”
He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
“You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you today.”
That admission immediately softened me.
“Would you like me to wait for you outside the Lycée when your classes finish?” I asked. “We could walk through the park before coming home to make dinner. Or we could go to my favorite Chinese restaurant in Midtown.”
“Of course I want you there,” Sebastian said immediately. “Knowing you’ll be waiting for me will make spending the entire day without you considerably more tolerable.”
“I’ll walk you to the bus stop, too.”
“Kurt—”
“I’m doing it.”
He laughed.
“Fine.”
“I think we’ve become terribly spoiled,” I admitted. “I’m having trouble with the idea that you’ll be several blocks away from me all day.”
“Several blocks,” Sebastian repeated. “Listen to yourself. What are you going to do when Professor Fiore eventually sends you to another state for a performance?”
“Track your movements electronically.”
“I’m changing all my passwords.”
Because I had made breakfast, Sebastian insisted on cleaning the kitchen while I got ready for the day. By the time we were both dressed, he reluctantly agreed to let me take several photographs of him in his new school uniform.
I had to admit that the Lycée uniform was considerably less elegant than our Dalton blazers. It consisted of gray trousers, a white shirt and a light-gray V-neck sweater.
Fortunately, Sebastian would only be required to wear it during his first week. The Lycée had a dress code, but after that initial period it was considerably more flexible than Dalton’s uniform policy.
“I still can’t believe the most prestigious French high school in the country has such a boring uniform,” I complained as I inspected him. “Not that you look bad, honey. You could wear a plastic garbage bag and somehow make it fashionable. But gray, lighter gray and white? My fashion sense is personally offended.”
Sebastian looked down at himself.
“It’s not that terrible.”
“You spent too much time at Dalton. Your standards have deteriorated.”
“My standards are excellent. Look who I’m dating.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Good to know.”
He checked the time and sighed.
“I still don’t want to go.”
“You have to.”
“I know.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Moving to New York had been our dream for so long that I had imagined the exciting parts countless times: Broadway, NYADA, museums, restaurants, performances, new friends and opportunities. I had spent considerably less time imagining something as mundane as watching Sebastian leave our apartment on a Monday morning to attend high school while I remained behind.
Perhaps that was why the moment felt unexpectedly significant.
It was the beginning of our ordinary life together.
And somehow, that made it more precious.
“The first night we spent here,” I admitted quietly, “I almost asked you if we should find a way to get married immediately.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows rose.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Grandma Elise.”
He immediately understood.
“She’s already missed so many important moments in my life,” I continued. “I want her and Grandpa to be there when we eventually get married. That was the only thing that stopped me. For a few minutes, I didn’t even care that Finn, Mercedes, Gilbert or Noah wouldn’t be there. I was just so happy that we were finally here together.”
Sebastian’s teasing expression disappeared.
He stepped closer and kissed me.
When we separated, he rested his forehead against mine.
“You realize you’re making it considerably harder for me to leave, right?”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Liar.”
I laughed and straightened the collar of his shirt.
“Go before you’re late on your first day.”
Sebastian groaned.
“Sometimes I wonder why we have to study and work so much when we already have enough money to support ourselves. All I really want is to stay here with you.”
“You’d get bored with me very quickly if we spent every day doing nothing.”
“Impossible.”
“You say that now.”
“I’ll say it when we’re eighty.”
That made me smile.
I gave his sweater one final adjustment and picked up his lunch.
“Come on. I’m walking you to the bus stop.”
“I knew you would.”
“You didn’t exactly put up much resistance.”
“Because secretly,” Sebastian said as he took the lunchbox from me, “I enjoy being spoiled by you.”
“I knew it.”
“Don’t get carried away, Hummel. Tomorrow, I’m making breakfast.”
And, strangely enough, that simple promise made our new apartment feel even more like home.
We left our building hand in hand and walked together to the bus stop.
When Sebastian’s bus finally arrived, I discovered that letting go of his hand was considerably harder than it should have been.
“You’re looking at me as though I’m being deployed overseas,” he teased.
“You’re going several blocks away for almost eight hours. Have some compassion.”
“I’ll try to survive.”
“You’d better.”
Sebastian kissed my cheek before climbing onto the bus, and I stood there watching until it disappeared into traffic.
For several seconds, I felt strangely bereft.
Then I remembered where I was.
New York looked absolutely radiant in the late-summer morning sunshine. People hurried along the sidewalks carrying coffee cups, taxis filled the avenue, and somewhere nearby I could hear music coming from an open storefront.
A broad smile slowly spread across my face.
I was alone in New York City.
Not lonely.
Alone.
There was a considerable difference.
I began quietly whistling as I headed toward the George Glazer Gallery, one of the Upper East Side antique shops I had researched before our move.
Once inside, I had to remind myself repeatedly that I was supposed to be practical. I was there primarily to see whether they had any furniture that might work in our apartments.
Unfortunately, putting Kurt Hummel inside an antique shop and expecting him to behave practically was rather optimistic.
I resisted several temptations before discovering a small chrome reproduction of the Eiffel Tower.
I stared at it.
It stared back at me.
At least, spiritually.
“You’re coming home with me,” I murmured.
One hundred and fifty dollars later, the Eiffel Tower was mine.
I was considerably less successful at resisting a 1984 screen print that cost thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, but I refused to feel guilty about that purchase. I had set aside a generous decorating budget, and I was determined to fill both apartments with pieces that actually meant something to us instead of simply buying everything from a furniture catalogue.
Besides, Sebastian had lived in Paris.
The Eiffel Tower was practically sentimental.
That was my justification, and I intended to defend it vigorously if necessary.
I arranged to have both purchases delivered to our building before taking a taxi to the Manhattan Art & Antiques Center.
That proved even more dangerous.
By the time I left, I had acquired a jade-green Art Deco vase and a French bronze-and-glass table from the 1950s that I immediately decided would be perfect for our entrance hall.
What I actually needed most were shelves and two desks with chairs, but I suspected I would have better luck searching flea markets with Sebastian over the weekend. Those purchases could wait.
For the moment, I was having far too much fun.
By lunchtime, my feet were beginning to complain, so I found an Indian restaurant and settled at a table to enjoy my second meal of the day.
My phone rang before the food arrived.
Rachel.
I smiled before answering.
“Hello?”
“Kurt! I’m here!”
I laughed at the sheer amount of excitement packed into three words.
“At NYADA?”
“Yes! We just arrived. My parents are helping me settle in, but I wanted to know where you were. We should meet.”
“Tonight,” I replied. “I’m currently in the middle of something.”
“What?”
I glanced around the restaurant.
“A date.”
There was a brief silence.
“With Sebastian?”
“No.”
Another silence.
“Who are you on a date with?”
“New York.”
“Kurt.”
“I’m serious. Sebastian is at school, so I decided to spend the day exploring antique shops, eating whatever catches my attention and enjoying my first weekday as an official resident of Manhattan.”
“That actually sounds amazing,” Rachel admitted. “I could come join you.”
“No.”
The answer came out so quickly that I laughed.
“Sorry, but this is specifically a solo date with New York.”
“You’re wandering around Manhattan alone?”
“Rachel, I have been researching this city since elementary school. I promise you I’m capable of surviving several hours without supervision.”
“I didn't mean that you couldn't—”
“I can navigate the subway, too.”
“I know.”
“And I know which lines are express.”
“Kurt.”
“And I understand the difference between downtown and uptown.”
“I surrender!”
I smiled triumphantly.
“Good.”
“Well, if I'm forbidden from interfering with your romantic relationship with Manhattan, can we at least have dinner together?”
“That I can agree to.”
“Oh, good! My parents are taking care of most of the unpacking anyway. I decided to listen to you and let them decorate my room. They seem ridiculously happy about it.”
I softened immediately.
“Good. Let them fuss over you for a couple of days, Rachel. It will make leaving you here easier for them.”
“I know. Where should we meet?”
“There’s a healthy restaurant a few blocks from NYADA. We ate there on Saturday, and even my father admitted the food wasn't bad.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Coming from Burt Hummel, it was practically a Michelin star.”
Rachel laughed.
“Fine. Send me the address. Why aren't you with Sebastian, anyway?”
“Today is his first day at the Lycée Français.”
“Oh! That's right. How did he seem this morning?”
“Excited. Nervous. Reluctant to leave me.”
“So, exactly like you?”
I frowned at my phone.
“I don't appreciate your tone, Miss Berry.”
She laughed again.
Before she could answer, the waiter returned carrying the fragrant vegan rice dish I had ordered.
“My lunch just arrived,” I told her. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“All right. Enjoy your date with New York.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
I ended the call, thanked the waiter and put my phone away.
For once, I didn't immediately check whether Sebastian had sent me a message.
I simply looked through the restaurant window at the endless movement outside.
For years, New York had existed in my imagination as the place where my real life would eventually begin. I had dreamed about Broadway, NYADA, crowded sidewalks, museums, theaters and neighborhoods where nobody would think twice about the way I dressed, spoke or loved.
Now I was actually here.
I had an apartment.
I had a school.
I had Sebastian.
And, for the first time in my life, I had the luxury of wandering through Manhattan with nowhere I absolutely needed to be.
I took my first bite and smiled.
My date with New York was going extremely well.
I returned to our apartment after lunch carrying a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums and white hyacinths that I had bought from a flower stand near our building. I had chosen them with my new Art Deco vase in mind, although I wasn't entirely sure the vase would arrive before the flowers began to wilt.
So I was pleasantly surprised when I stopped at the reception desk and learned that the pieces I had purchased from both antique shops that morning had already been delivered.
“Wow. That was fast.”
I immediately borrowed one of the building's carts and loaded the carefully wrapped boxes onto it before taking the elevator upstairs.
I spent most of the afternoon working on our entrance hall.
Armed with a drill and several things I had brought from Ohio, I gradually transformed the rather impersonal space into something that actually looked like it belonged to Sebastian and me.
I even managed to reuse a frame I already owned for the 1984 screen print, which I hung opposite the front door on the section of wall between the half bathroom and the coat closet.
Underneath it, I placed the French bronze-and-glass table from the 1950s.
The jade-green Art Deco vase went on top, filled with the chrysanthemums and hyacinths I had bought that afternoon. Beside it, I arranged the small chrome Eiffel Tower and an elegant silver frame containing one of my favorite photographs of Sebastian and me from the Dalton prom.
We looked spectacular.
Naturally.
Next to the front door, I hung a wooden key holder carved with flowers and fitted with bronze hooks. It had belonged to my mother, which made it considerably more precious to me than anything I had purchased that morning.
On the opposite side, I placed an antique wrought-iron umbrella stand I had acquired through an eBay auction several months earlier.
I stepped back to admire the result.
Elegant without being ostentatious. Personal without looking cluttered. Modern pieces mixed with antiques and, most importantly, several reminders of the people and places that mattered to us.
It was perfect.
Because that was simply who I was: exquisitely refined and charming.
I liked the result so much that I took several pictures and sent them to Percival, Holly, Carole, Mercedes, Kenya, Sue, Marley and Grandma Elise.
The responses began arriving almost immediately.
I love the Art Deco table, Percival wrote.
Wow. You have incredible taste, Kurt, came Holly's response.
You're so talented, honey. The umbrella stand looks perfect in that corner, Carole wrote.
Sue's response was somewhat less conventional.
Congratulations, Porcelain. You've been unsupervised in Manhattan for less than a day and already turned your hallway into the lobby of a boutique hotel for pretentious homosexuals. Disturbingly, I approve.
I laughed aloud.
Mercedes was considerably sweeter.
You're a real artist, Boo.
Kenya's response came a few seconds later.
Someday you're redecorating my house, Kurt. I'm not asking.
Then Marley's message appeared.
I miss you so much it hurts.
My smile faded slightly.
That sounded a little more emotional than I expected, so I immediately called her and put the phone on speaker. I still had several things to do before leaving to meet Sebastian after school, and despite how much I had enjoyed my solo date with New York, I had missed him terribly.
“Kurt?” Marley answered excitedly.
“Are you all right, honey?” I asked, continuing to organize a few things around the apartment. “Nobody is giving you trouble at McKinley, are they?”
“Oh, don't worry about that,” Marley replied enthusiastically. “As soon as we arrived, we found out that Sugar and Tina joined the Cheerios too. Sue called us together and announced that Kitty will be captain and I'm going to be New Directions' lead female singer. We have our first glee club meeting in half an hour, and auditions start tomorrow. There are already more than twenty students interested.”
I stopped what I was doing.
“More than twenty?”
“Yes!”
“That is considerably better than some of the recruitment disasters New Directions has experienced.”
Marley laughed.
“How's your mother?” I asked.
“Better,” she replied, and I could hear the relief in her voice. “Her cholesterol keeps going down. Once it reaches the level her doctors want, they'll schedule the bypass surgery.”
“Good. Make sure she follows every instruction they give her.”
“I will.”
I hesitated.
“So why did you say you missed me so much? You sound positively cheerful.”
“Because I do miss you,” Marley replied as though that should have been obvious. “The whole summer was rehearsals and performances and seeing everyone almost every day. Now suddenly you're in New York, Mercedes is in Connecticut, Finn is at Yale, the Warblers are gone and half the people from the musical aren't here anymore. McKinley feels strange.”
That made considerably more sense.
“I know what you mean,” I admitted. “This morning was strange for me too. But I had my first solo date with New York, which helped considerably.”
There was a brief silence.
“You had a what?”
“A date with New York.”
Marley giggled.
“What did the two of you do together?”
“Oh, she was completely up to my expectations,” I replied grandly. “I visited two antique shops, had lunch at an Indian restaurant, drank a mango smoothie and bought seasonal flowers.”
“Sounds serious.”
“I may propose by Christmas.”
Marley laughed again.
“Jake had dinner at your house last night, and he said Sarah spent almost the entire meal talking about New York.”
A small ache immediately formed in my chest at the mention of the eleven-year-old girl who had already claimed a very special place in my heart.
“How is she?”
“Apparently cheerful. Noah said she's driving everyone crazy talking about ballet lessons and Central Park. Her brothers are a little worried because she misses you and Sebastian, but I think she's also excited about school starting.”
I smiled.
“That sounds more like her.”
“Jake said she showed everyone the ballet clothes you bought her.”
“I may have gotten slightly carried away.”
“You? Shopping?”
“I know. Shocking.”
Marley giggled.
“What does your guy think about Sarah taking ballet?” I asked.
“My guy?”
I could hear the bewilderment in her voice.
“You mean Jake?”
“Yes.”
“Kurt, Jake is my friend. He's not my guy.”
“Really?”
That caught my attention, considering how differently she had felt about him during my previous life.
“I thought there might be something between you.”
“Please. Jake is worse with girls than Pietro.”
“Pietro is actually quite disciplined when he's in a relationship.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“I want someone more sensitive,” Marley continued. “Someone kind and creative and who actually listens when I talk. Someone…”
She hesitated.
“Someone like you. Except straight.”
I closed my eyes.
Ah.
That explained it.
Apparently my involvement in Marley's life had changed more than I realized.
“You're not the first girl to make that particular mistake, darling.”
“Rachel?”
I nearly dropped the picture frame I was holding.
“What?”
“Santana warned Sebastian about her after Rachel's second song during rehearsals.”
“Of course she did.”
“So Rachel likes you?”
“I think Rachel needed someone to cling to while everything in her life was changing,” I replied. “She's beginning NYADA, leaving Lima and becoming independent for the first time. I'm familiar, I understand her ambitions and we share the same ridiculous obsession with Broadway.”
“But you don't love her like that?”
“No. And she knows perfectly well that she cannot interfere with my relationship with Sebastian. Besides, even if I were attracted to women, someone else already occupies that special place in my heart.”
“Mercedes?”
I gasped theatrically.
“No. Sue.”
“Kurt!”
Marley dissolved into laughter.
“I don't think Rachel realizes Coach Sylvester is her romantic rival.”
“That's because Sue and I are trying to keep our forbidden love private.”
“You're horrible.”
“Actually, the answer is Mercedes,” I admitted, laughing. “But she's with Finn, so I've graciously accepted defeat.”
“Very mature of you.”
“I thought so.”
I glanced at the time and suddenly remembered something.
“Oh, damn it.”
“What?”
“I forgot to stop at the pharmacy.”
“For what?”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Marley apparently understood.
“Oh.”
“Precisely.”
“Oh!”
“Goodbye, Marley.”
She started laughing again.
“Have fun with Sebastian!”
“Marley Rose!”
“I meant after school!”
“That did not improve the situation.”
She was still laughing.
“Go to your glee club meeting,” I ordered. “And keep me updated about your mother, all right?”
“I promise.”
“And Marley?”
“Yes?”
“I'm glad you're excited about New Directions. Give it a chance. It might feel different without all of us there, but that doesn't mean it can't become something wonderful of its own.”
There was a brief silence before she answered more softly.
“I will. Thanks, Kurt.”
“Anytime, honey. Now go before you're late.”
I ended the call with a smile.
It was strange.
Only a few days earlier, I had been surrounded by dozens of people in Lima. Now I was standing alone in a Manhattan apartment, decorating a home with the boy I loved while my friends began scattering across the country to build lives of their own.
For the first time, that realization didn't frighten me quite as much.
We weren't losing one another.
We were simply moving forward.
And speaking of moving forward, I had a pharmacy to find before meeting my boyfriend.
Xxxxxxx
After ending my call with Marley, I hurried to the nearest pharmacy to purchase several items that had become rather essential to our life as a couple.
Then I returned to the apartment, discreetly put my purchases away in our bedroom and left again for the Lycée Français.
I arrived twenty minutes earlier than the time Sebastian and I had agreed upon, but fortunately, I only had to wait five. Sebastian was among the first group of students to emerge through the doors, and the instant he spotted me, his entire face lit up.
“At last,” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around me. “I missed you so much I seriously considered inventing a medical emergency to escape.”
“I missed you too, my love,” I replied, happily returning his embrace. “Although I'm afraid I spent most of the day having an affair with New York.”
“I knew that was going to happen.”
Sebastian laughed and took my hand as we headed toward the bus stop.
“Tell me everything. I want details.”
I happily described my morning—the antique shops, my Indian lunch, the flowers and my wandering around Manhattan—but deliberately avoided mentioning exactly what I had purchased. I wanted the entrance hall to be a surprise.
It was worth the secrecy.
“Wow.”
Sebastian stopped almost immediately after crossing the threshold of our apartment.
His gaze moved from the screen print to the table, then down to the flowers and the smaller decorative pieces.
“That table is incredible. Art Deco, right? Like the print?”
“Very good.”
I closed the door behind us.
“The picture frame and vase are Art Deco too. The umbrella stand and my mother's key holder are older, so I placed them on opposite sides of the entrance rather than trying to make everything match.”
“I like it.”
Sebastian stepped farther into the hall, studying my work with obvious appreciation.
“You mixed different periods without making it look like an antique store. It's elegant, but the flowers and our photograph make it feel like a home.”
That compliment pleased me considerably more than I expected.
“Exactly what I wanted.”
I touched one of the chrysanthemums.
“And the green vase should work with almost any seasonal flowers. We could even incorporate it into our Christmas decorations.”
Sebastian immediately looked at me.
“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you use our and Christmas in the same sentence.”
His expression softened.
“Our home. Our Christmas.”
“Our extremely tasteful Christmas,” I corrected.
“Naturally.”
He kissed me.
What began as something sweet rapidly became considerably more enthusiastic, and the unveiling of my beautifully decorated entrance hall eventually led to a rather tender private celebration in our bedroom.
Fortunately, we remembered that we had dinner plans before losing track of time completely.
That evening, we met Hiram, LeRoy and Rachel at the healthy restaurant near NYADA. Sebastian had already consumed enough seasonal vegetables over the past few days to begin suspecting that I intended to turn him into a rabbit, but the restaurant also specialized in organic seafood. We therefore ordered braised scallops with mushrooms, shiitakes, leeks and truffle oil.
During dinner, Sebastian and I deliberately avoided talking too much about the apartment.
I wanted to finish decorating before inviting anyone over.
Also, neither of us particularly wanted Rachel deciding that our apartment sounded so wonderful that she should move into the guest room.
“Are you nervous about Thursday?” Hiram eventually asked me.
“Not particularly.”
I took another bite before adding casually,
“Actually, I'm considering postponing my first day until Monday.”
Rachel nearly dropped her fork.
“What?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said! Kurt, you can't skip the first two days. Those are the orientation days.”
“I don't require orientation. I require additional time to pursue my passionate relationship with New York City.”
Rachel stared at me.
“You cannot skip NYADA because you're dating Manhattan!”
Sebastian burst out laughing.
“My love, I have to agree with Rachel.”
I turned toward him in betrayal.
“You?”
“Madame Tibideaux is unlikely to accept I was having too much fun in SoHo as a legitimate excuse.”
“I wasn't only in SoHo.”
“That will definitely change her mind.”
Hiram and LeRoy laughed.
“You had your fun today,” Sebastian continued affectionately. “And you'll have plenty of opportunities to explore the city. Go to orientation.”
I sighed dramatically.
“Fine.”
“Was that really so difficult?” Rachel asked.
“Yes.”
“I suppose you feel something similar about Paris,” LeRoy said to Sebastian.
“Not really,” he admitted. “I love Paris, but I've never fallen in love with a place the way Kurt has with New York. You should have seen his face when we drove into Manhattan.”
“It's the city of my dreams,” I declared proudly. “I'm a New Yorker at heart.”
“Me too!” Rachel exclaimed.
I gave her a skeptical look.
“You're a Broadway girl at heart. There's a difference.”
“There is not.”
“There absolutely is.”
I pointed my fork at her.
“You dream about Broadway, but you've barely researched what actually living here involves. You need to learn the subway system, buses, neighborhoods, where to shop, which areas you can comfortably walk through and how to get yourself home without immediately calling your fathers.”
Rachel frowned.
“I can learn.”
“Exactly. And you should.”
“Kurt forced all of us onto the subway Saturday morning just to eat cronuts in SoHo,” Sebastian informed her. “During our first day here, he took us for hot dogs and bagels, dragged us through Central Park, found an Amish market and insisted we eat New York-style pizza for dinner.”
“I did not drag anyone.”
“You absolutely did.”
“And you enjoyed it.”
“Immensely.”
Hiram smiled at me.
“So you really do know how to navigate the city.”
“I've been studying New York since I was a child.”
“I hope some of that knowledge rubs off on Rachel,” he admitted. “I'm afraid LeRoy and I may have neglected that part of her education.”
“We'll learn together,” I told her. “But you should also spend some time exploring by yourself. Pick a neighborhood, learn how to get there, walk around, find a café or bookstore you like. New York will feel much less intimidating once you stop treating it as the place where Broadway happens and start treating it as your home.”
Rachel became thoughtful.
“I could do that.”
“Of course you can.”
“What else did you visit over the weekend?” LeRoy asked.
“Mostly things we thought Sarah would enjoy,” Sebastian replied.
His expression softened immediately.
“Central Park, the carousel, Belvedere Castle, the Alice in Wonderland statue. We took her to Matilda too.”
“She loved New York,” I added. “Although I'm beginning to suspect we created a monster. She has already announced that she intends to visit during both winter and spring.”
“She has excellent taste,” Rachel said.
“She does,” Sebastian agreed.
He looked at me.
“Speaking of which, we still need to visit the church Bishop Robinson recommended. Did you check the Sunday service time?”
“Nine o'clock, and I already know which subway stop we need.”
I sighed.
“It will feel strange attending a different church after so many years at Our Beloved Church, but that's another part of starting our new life here.”
“Is that the Pentecostal church you mentioned?” Hiram asked.
“Yes. It's one of the congregations Bishop Robinson recommended because he knows we'll be welcomed there.”
“I suppose you became accustomed to how lively the services were in Lima,” Hiram said with a smile. “Even I found my synagogue rather subdued after attending church with LeRoy.”
“Sarah certainly had an opinion about it,” Sebastian said, laughing softly. “After her first service at Our Beloved Church, she announced that Christians were more fun than Jews.”
I rolled my eyes affectionately.
“That child has never encountered an opinion she didn't think the rest of the world desperately needed to hear.”
“Which is one of the things I like about her,” Sebastian replied.
I smiled.
“She's a cheeky little brat.”
“Like you.”
“I'm sophisticated.”
“Of course.”
Sebastian took out his phone.
“She had her first ballet class today, by the way. She borrowed Noah's phone to send me a message afterward.”
My attention immediately sharpened.
“How did it go?”
“She loved it. Apparently she wants to know how long it takes before she's allowed to dance en pointe.”
I laughed.
“Already?”
“And Noah apparently told her that if she breaks an ankle trying it without her teacher's permission, he's personally confiscating her ballet shoes.”
That image made me smile.
“Good for Noah.”
“Jake goes to the same dance academy,” Sebastian continued. “She seemed very excited about that.”
That pleased me even more.
Instead of Sarah's new activity being another extension of her attachment to Sebastian and me, ballet was already giving her something she could share with one of her brothers.
“There were only two serious dance academies left in Lima,” Hiram said regretfully. “And didn't one of them close recently?”
“Marjorie's,” I replied. “Fortunately, that worked out rather well for her. After seeing what she could do during rehearsals for The Choir Room, Sue hired her to teach dance at McKinley.”
Sebastian smiled.
“Apparently Sue Sylvester has finally discovered that investing in the arts isn't always a sign of moral weakness.”
I snorted.
“Don't ever say that where she can hear you. She'll fire Marjorie purely to restore her reputation.”
That earned another round of laughter.
“I took ballet classes at the same academy Jake attends,” Rachel said proudly. “Actually, I've been taking ballet since I was a toddler.”
I gave her a pointed look.
“There's nothing wrong with being proud of your training, Rachel, but I'd be careful about the way you phrase things like that at NYADA.”
Her smile faded slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“We're about to be surrounded by people who were the best performers in their respective schools. Some of them will probably have been dancing, singing or acting since they could walk. If we spend our first week announcing our accomplishments to everyone, we'll both sound insufferable.”
Sebastian smirked.
“Both of you?”
I turned toward him.
“I included myself deliberately.”
“I noticed. I'm proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
LeRoy laughed.
“Kurt has a point, sweetheart. Confidence is good. Just remember that everyone at NYADA earned their place there too.”
“I know that.”
“I know you do,” I replied. “And that's precisely why NYADA will be good for us. McKinley was too small for you, Rachel. You spent years being one of the strongest singers in the building. Now you're going somewhere where being extraordinarily talented is merely the admission requirement.”
Rachel stared at me.
“That was simultaneously encouraging and terrifying.”
“Welcome to higher education.”
Hiram chuckled.
“I think we'll have that embroidered on a pillow.”
“I've already watched a few classes,” I continued, “and believe me, the faculty won't pamper us. My advice is to take advantage of the fact that your room is so close to the practice studios. Use them whenever you can.”
“I was planning to.”
“And consider the morning yoga classes. They might help with your flexibility and stamina.”
Rachel immediately brightened.
“We could take them together.”
I grimaced.
“At five in the morning?”
“You already wake up that early.”
“Yes, to vocalize in the privacy of my own home, where coffee and my boyfriend are readily available.”
Sebastian nodded solemnly.
“Two essential components of his morning routine.”
“I've also practiced yoga and swimming regularly since Dalton,” I continued. “And I'd rather do yoga with Sebastian at home than commute to NYADA before sunrise.”
“Oh.”
The disappointment on Rachel's face was obvious, but before I could say anything, Sebastian leaned slightly toward her.
“You'll probably find people in your class who want to go with you.”
She looked at him.
“Do you think so?”
“Rachel, you're about to enter a school containing hundreds of performers,” he replied. “Statistically, at least one of them must enjoy getting into impossible positions before breakfast.”
Hiram nearly choked on his water.
“Yoga positions,” Sebastian clarified innocently.
I kicked him under the table.
“Ow.”
“Behave.”
Rachel laughed, and the momentary disappointment disappeared.
“Besides,” Sebastian continued, “Kurt won't be spending every waking hour at NYADA. He already has other plans.”
Rachel immediately looked at me.
“What other plans?”
“Fashion.”
I smiled mysteriously.
“That's all you're getting for now.”
Her eyes widened.
“Are you designing something?”
“Possibly.”
“Working for someone?”
“Also possibly.”
“Kurt!”
“I don't want to announce anything until I know whether it will actually happen. But I'm hoping to find work at a fashion publication.”
“Are you thinking about modeling?” Hiram asked.
“Absolutely not.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
“My grandmother and this traitor are convinced that I should.”
“Because you should.”
“I have no objection to occasionally being photographed in fabulous clothing,” I conceded. “But I want to work behind the scenes. Fashion has been part of my life almost as long as music and theater have, and I'm not willing to abandon it simply because I got into NYADA.”
LeRoy smiled.
“You certainly don't believe in having only one dream.”
“Of course not.”
“Because one dream is never enough for Kurt Hummel,” Sebastian said fondly. “At this rate, he'll be singing on Broadway, writing musicals and running a fashion magazine before he's twenty-five.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
I paused.
“Thirty, perhaps.”
Everyone laughed.
Sebastian reached for my hand beneath the table.
“I suppose that means I'll eventually have to say goodbye to my lunchbox.”
That reminded me of something.
“Speaking of which, what did you think of the cafeteria at the Lycée?”
“I have no idea.”
I frowned.
“You didn't look?”
“I looked. I couldn't taste anything because a certain overprotective boyfriend sent me to school carrying enough food to survive a minor natural disaster.”
“It was one lunch.”
“It contained soup, sandwiches, fruit and a smoothie.”
“That sounds wonderful,” LeRoy said, laughing. “What exactly did he make you?”
Sebastian enthusiastically described the contents of his lunchbox, then proceeded to tell them about the Eggs Benedict, fruit, yogurt and coffee I had prepared for our first breakfast alone in the apartment.
“You made all that before school?” Hiram asked.
“I wanted his first morning to be special.”
Sebastian squeezed my hand.
“It was.”
I noticed a wistful expression cross Rachel's face.
For once, however, I didn't interpret it entirely through the lens of whatever confused romantic feelings she might be developing toward me.
She had spent her entire life being adored by her fathers, and in a few days they would return to Lima. Perhaps watching Sebastian and me fuss over each other was simply reminding her that she was about to live without that daily affection for the first time.
“You know,” I told her, “one of the first things you should learn is how to prepare a few decent meals in your room.”
Rachel blinked.
“I have a cafeteria.”
“You also have a kitchenette.”
“I can make toast.”
I stared at her.
“That's not cooking.”
“I can make oatmeal.”
“From scratch?”
A pause.
“There's a difference?”
I slowly turned toward Hiram and LeRoy.
Both men suddenly became very interested in their plates.
“Oh, dear God.”
“We may have spoiled her a little,” LeRoy admitted.
“A little?”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“I can learn.”
“Of course you can. I'll teach you some simple recipes before classes become too demanding.”
Her expression immediately brightened.
“Really?”
“Yes. Teach you. Not cook for you every evening.”
Sebastian grinned.
“Look at you establishing boundaries.”
“I'm growing.”
When the bill arrived, Hiram firmly insisted on paying for dinner. While he and LeRoy were taking care of it, Rachel turned toward me.
“Could you come by tomorrow?”
“What do you need?”
“I still have to buy my dance clothes and shoes, and I don't know where to go.”
“That,” I admitted, “is a legitimate emergency.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes.
“Of course dance shoes qualify as an emergency.”
“They do in our profession.”
I turned back to Rachel.
“All right. I'll help you tomorrow. But we're also buying you a proper New York guide.”
She groaned.
“Kurt—”
“No arguments. Consider it homework. I'll show you where to buy your dance supplies, we'll find a couple of stores that sell vegan snacks you can keep in your room, and then you are going to figure out how to get us back to NYADA.”
Rachel stared at me.
“By myself?”
“I'll be standing right beside you. But you're choosing the route.”
A competitive spark immediately appeared in her eyes.
“Fine.”
“Excellent.”
I studied her hair for another moment.
“And while we're out, we might do something about your hair.”
Her hand immediately flew to it.
“What's wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing. But a few subtle highlights would look fabulous.”
Rachel smiled.
“I'd like that.”
Across the table, Hiram and LeRoy exchanged a glance.
I knew what worried them. They had probably begun to notice the same thing Santana and Sebastian had already noticed during the summer.
Rachel had become unusually attached to me.
But I wasn't particularly worried.
I had no intention of encouraging romantic expectations I could never fulfill, but neither did I intend to push her away simply because her feelings were confused.
Rachel was my friend.
And if I could help her learn to navigate New York, cook something more complicated than toast, and survive her first semester at NYADA without declaring herself the next Barbra Streisand before breakfast, I considered that a perfectly reasonable investment in our friendship.
What she did with that independence afterward would be entirely up to her.
We returned to our apartment after dinner, and although I suggested watching a movie, my boyfriend had other plans. They involved a shower together, followed by some much-needed private time that left both of us considerably more relaxed.