I've always looked my best.

Honestly always. When I was a kid my waistcoats were neatly pressed and the buttons shone from my meticulous polishing every morning before kindergarten. When I was younger, it was a way of keeping some control over the chaos that was infant children, I as a child loved ballet and tea parties, I had no time for finger painting or messy games like that. I looked good because that's where I was comfortable.

High school however it became an obsession, it was my disguise when I never wanted the jocks to look too closely. Before I came out, I never wanted anyone to see me that way, I never wanted them to see my sexuality, so the more outrageous clothes I wore the more it distracted from what was really going on. As I gained confidence in myself I wore the same clothes but as a badge of honour. I was that flamboyant gay kid from McKinley and I was damn proud. I still am… I mean it got me to New York. To Vogue.

My job is very stressful but everyone manages to juggle every aspect of his or her job without a hair out of place and I'm no exception. I have had a lifetime of practice to be everything from a designer to a sectary to a runner to an editor. I was always everywhere in the office and I couldn't be happier getting to do what I do best.

I always wore my clothes for my benefit, but working as I do in fashion, you gather that it has a lot of its own opportunities. Wearing the right clothes can get you a great job in an interview for example or score you a hot date. Well not that I'd know much about that.

Truth is, I look my best to try and impress, sure it's the way I express my individuality, but I wanted to express the best parts of myself. My hair shows my carefree playful side, my tailored clothes demonstrate how practical I can be. I always accessorize appropriately and creatively. So it goes without saying that I'll wear tight pants to highlight my assets and heeled boots to elongate my legs, because lets face it, you want to get the guy, these days you got to look good, especially in New York City. At least that's what I thought, before the worst day of my life turned into the best.

I had just woken up feeling that horrid wet and sensitive feeling in the back of your throat, I turned my head towards the alarm clock groaning as the slight movement caused my neck muscles to strain in protest and my head to throb slightly. I sat up quickly when I noticed my beginnings of a cold had caused me to oversleep. I pulled on the work outfit of the day and ran as fast as my aching body would carry me.

When I reached the subway I noticed the first fashion mistake of my life. I was wearing odd coloured shoes. Being in fashion I often got given the same shoes in a variety of colours and I must have grabbed two different ones. I shot my head back up and pretended I didn't notice. I was sandwiched between two heavy set gentlemen and nearly cheered out loud when a seat opened up and I could rest my weary legs, my celebration cut short when I flopped down onto the sticky chair. Lord knows why it was sticky but seeing as I had decide to wear white skinny jeans that day. I was not looking forward to pulling myself out of the mess.

When I finally arrived at my office, sweaty and red faced using my satchel bag to cover the stain on the back of my pants, I had also started to get that dreaded dribbling feeling coming from my nose, forcing me to use the sleeve of my shirt. The thought alone made me want to cry. I shuffled into my office relieved that my footwear was unseen under the desk and I finally got a chance to properly blow my now red rubbed nose.

Of course today was the day when everyone needed me to do everything, the same day I wanted to not be seen. I had to send copies of photo shoots downstairs, of course the elevator wasn't working today, and then head down to the coffee shop across the street. This wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't sneezed while holding the cups causing one to splash up and stain my shirt and my already ruined pants. Not to mention I now had a feeling I had snot clinging to me and no way to get rid of it with my hands full.

I could have kissed my guardian angel of a boss when she took pity and sent me home an hour earlier than usual. I had thankfully managed to get a set of sweatpants from a co-worker, who keeps his gym clothes at work and armed myself with a new pack of tissues and a refrigerated bottle of water for my now sandpaper throat.

I shuffled along the sidewalk determined to set one mismatched foot in front of another, my miserable day weighing on my shoulders and having me hunch and I stared at the ground. I hated the fact that I, Kurt Hummel, was wearing sweatpants, it felt like I was being degraded but what made it worse was when I felt a trickling cold water seep through them. It was coming from my satchel.

I reached into my bag only to find that, yes not only had all my water had gone, it had made me cold and soaked my new tissues, and it was only then I allowed myself to well up. My eyes stung with potential tears as my nightmare of a day had kicked me to the curb.

Resting my bag on a near bench, I ran my hands through my hair, which despite the traumas of the day had remained intact. Well… until now. I wiped my nose on the back of my hand and used the heels of my palm to knead my tired eyes. I never noticed that it had started to drizzle with rain. At this point, life had forced me to submit.

Ive always looked my best

But that day, I had been at my worst.

So its weird that that was the day I met the love of my life.

"Hey are you okay?"

My head shot up at the voice that had interrupted my misery. His sympathetic eyes locked onto mine as he searched for any serious trouble. I looked above my head where he was holding his umbrella over me, then back at him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you it just looked like you needed a hand" The kind man said with a hesitant smile.

"I'm… okay. Thank you" I muttered wrapping my arms around myself to keep myself together. The man looked away from me down the busy street. He was so beautiful with his hazel eyes and slicked up hair. When he turned back to me he said.

"Shall I hail you a cab?"

I shook my head before saying reluctantly "I like out in Bushwick, it would cost a fortune"

"Then allow me" The man stuck his hand out just as the yellow taxi slowed to a stop. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could he had stuck his head in the window and handed the driver some money. "here you go, I hope you have a safe ride home"

I stood in the rain as the stranger turned to walk back down the street. I gathered some strength in my throat to call back to him. "Wait! You don't have to do this, I can make my own way back, its just been a long day is all." When he faced me again, he smiled and said that it was no problem. "But I can't expect you to pay for me, you don't even know me"

"I don't need to know more than that, to help a beautiful boy in need."

My eyes stung for an entirely different reason now. I felt so overwhelmed with this guy's random act of kindness. "Can you at least ride with me, if you want to of course" I asked him sniffing slightly.

He gave me a warming smile and pulled out a handkerchief for me

"Sure"

I always thought I would be dressed up to the nines, when I met my future husband. That I would be doing something ambitious or sexy and I would certainly look my best. But it turns out that appearances don't matter to everyone, because on that day, Blaine had seen me as the most beautiful person in the world, when I felt at my worst.

To him, I always look my best.