The orange-yellow glow of summer dawn snuck into Kurt Hummel's bedroom as he slowly opened his eyes and took the first glance of July. Though summer had been set weeks ago, this was technically his first day of it. He smiled at the emptiness in his barely furnished apartment as he made his way toward the coffee machine. Kurt appreciated the smallest parts of life, for every morning he woke with a new perception of the past twenty-three years.
Kurt suffered from paramnesia. Unlike amnesia, paramnesia allowed him to remember an altered past. Sometimes, they were slight alterations. Other times, there were gaps or complete changes in his stories. And though he was completely aware of his condition, he couldn't help it anymore than he could if he were unaware.
So Kurt hastily drank his coffee, into the shower, and out the door to Santana's apartment which was in the next building. He walked past the elevator, as he always believed that elevators were much more of a risk than stairs. He followed the stairs to an isolated wing that connect the two buildings. When he reached her building, Santana was wandering the hall. He was always happy to see her outside of work. Aside from being his best friend since High School, she was also his employer.
She ran her own strictly cotton clothing line and Kurt was the head designer for everything produced. Rachel Berry, one of their closest friends was Kurt's assistant and right now, he and Santana were on their way to meet her for brunch. The diner, which Rachel's choice, had a very wooden them to it. Somehow, it made him feel as if he were in a cabin, though he'd never been in one.
Kurt and Santana approached Rachel who sat in a booth against the window. Her bright, dusty pink blush was the first thing he noticed. "Good morning, beauties.", she greeted the with an eager smile. "Good morning.", replied Kurt. "Yeah. Yeah. They're never good.", said Santana, removing her sunglasses.
The waitor, a curly haired young man with the slightest hint of stubble along his jawline, approached their table. "Good morning, Rachel. How's the hangover, Cruella?", he said with a smug grin. "Who's the cutie?", he asked, causing Kurt to blush. "Oh, funny, Travolta. And don't hit on my friends. They might catch Sasquatch syndrome.", replied Santana as Rachel waved to him.
"Blaine, honey, this is Kurt. He hasn't been here before. I'll just have the raspberry lemonade and garlic penne." "As always", he answered. "Yeah, Chubaca. I'll have the green tea and parmesan tuna shells.", Santana stated as if he were her servant. "And for you, Kurt?", he asked, seemingly enchanted by the new boy. Kurt stuttered. "W-what's good?", he asked. Blaine giggled, softly. "I guess it depends what you're into, but I really like the olive tuscani pasta." Kurt smiled at the boy. "Then, I'll take your word. Oh, and a raspberry lemonade as well, please." "Of course", Blaine answered, smiling.
After their orders arrived, the trio talked about everything from work to weekend plans and occasionally, Kurt would catch Blaine staring over with a bright smile and a gleam in his hazel eyes. Before leaving, Kurt, Santana, and Rachel split the check evenly and recieved three different receipts. Kurt's, however, had ten little digits in blue ink and a side-note that read: I know it's cheesy, but you just caught my eye. (: