New York Love Letter

6

"Everything is fine, Rachel -- Yes, I'm at vogue already -- No, what the hell is that supposed to mean? -- Never -- IM NOT DOING IT, OK?"

That was the fastest he'd ever hung up the phone on anyone. Maybe he could apply for a Guinness world record? Lord knows how great that would look on his Nyada Application...

It was only mid Autumn. Bustling winds only made the days more chaotic as the hustle didn't stop for anyone, not even a few dead leaves. Kurt congratulated the season with new boots that crunched crunchy leaves into the ground. He was right to come here, he was meant for this place. It certainly felt like that.

He'd been living in Bushwick for almost a year now, and those months leading up to the best day of his life (1. Nyada Finalist 2. Vogue internship) were filled with decorating his room, and meeting people he would've never met if he had stayed in that musty choir room.

Rachel, his roommate and loud mouthed best friend, had called him for only one thing, and that one thing was very predictable.

It was always: "Kurt! I need you." Or "Kurt, do you need me?"

This time, Kurt had just left the apartment and she rung his phone over and over. Each time he declined, she would call back, sending him messages about how she needed to talk to him. Of course, when he answered, she'd blown up, screaming: "KURT IN THE NAME OF ALL THINGS HOLY--"

Nothing was about everything to Rachel. She kept Kurt on the line longer than he would've liked her to. For a person who went to ballet practice, vocal warm up, and classes at Nyada, Rachel sure had a lot of freetime. Kurt didn't see a reason why talking to him was so important.

When he arrived at Vogue, Rachel sighed, and said: "When are you going to talk to him?" Squeaking like all the stress was suddenly put on to her. Rachel would probably say that was a side effect of a good actress, but Kurt liked to think it was a side effect of being in Mr. Shue's classroom.

"Never." He replied, running down the street because someone did not want to get killed whilst talking on a phone.

"Kurt you know--"

"Well I don't Rachel."

"I was going to say that you know you can't just avoid him like that."

And that's when he blew up, cutting her off before she could ever even get a word in. She was always pushing him to do things, and although he was grateful for someone as annoying as her, he wanted to take his time, and his time only. Rachel knew that -- everyone else did as well.

Kurtie: Sorry, can we please talk about this later, it's kind of bad timing?

Rach: I guess...

It was actually bad timing. Bad, bad, bad, bad timing. The worse timing. The timing you get when you're an insecure teen trying to walk the track instead of run. That timing when you throw the spoon perfectly in the trash can and not the soiled napkin. That kind of timing.

"Do... Do you need any help?"

It was someone trying to open the doors to the building. Boxes took up his arm space and packages overflowed to the point that they were falling to the ground. The man tried to get his key card out of his pocket. Kurt frowned, picking up loose packages that had fallen. He took out his own badge and rubbed it against the censor until it beeped. The man practically fell into the building, Kurt following after. He sat the packages on the front counter.

"Thank you." The man sighed, boxes towering over his face. He lowered them to the counter next to the ones Kurt had helped with.

"No problem... Blaine?" Turned out, the curly haired man was none other than Blaine Anderson. This had better be the gods talking and not Rachel's doing...

Kurt had only seen Blaine a couple of times around the building. He was either doing work for Isabel, or hanging out with Lucy -- when Kurt wasn't. If Rachel worked at Vogue, he'd had probably already talked to Blaine by then. Although Rachel wasn't there, Kurt was imagining her pushing him towards the other man -- before he could run away and embarrass himself.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, he didn't seem to recognize Kurt. "You know my name?" He asked, arms crossed. Eyebrow raised.

"Lucy told me." It was true, Lucy had told Kurt everything. She was a gossip, so no wonder they got along so well. Blaine scoffed, and they walked together to the elevater.

"Wait? You're porcelain, right? Her friend?" He asked, eyebrow still raised how kurt remembered it always being. Kurt smiled.

He should've never told Lucy about his nickname. Damn her. "I mean, yeah sure. Just... Don't call me that." He paused when they approached the elevator doors "Wait- I have to clock in at the design centre. I hope you're not going too far from there?"

"Well, Isabel wants to see me. She's been--" Blaine did a swirl with his finger up to his head -- crazy. "--and I only have a few more hours, I just got off lunch."

Kurt could totally save Blaine from the wrath that is Isabel Wright, and who knew, maybe he could finally get over everything? Blaine didn't know his name, this could work. "So... Did you want  an excuse? I could totally vouch." A slick grin appeared at corner of Kurt's lips. Blaine's face lit up.

"Yes! That would be amazing!"

Kurt called the elevator and when they entered, he pressed the highest button. He turned to Blaine, "Have you ever been to the Winged Room?"

"No... What's the Winged Room used for?" Blaine looked confused, glancing at the top screen that showed: Floor level 30. "Thirty? Why so high?"

Kurt chuckled, "You'll see."