AN: So in this fanfic the whole Brody= prostitute thing didn't happen. Blaine and Kurt never got back together. Also, this is post Cory Monteith death (RIP) so any mentions of Finn are from the past.

Prologue

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Reaching over was too much effort. But then again lying in bed is unacceptable.

Just another minute. Just one more.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Anything to avoid it. Anything to avoid addressing the problem.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm Kurt Hummel, 25 year old fashion sensation. I recorded a few unreleased albums but, decided on fashion. As cutthroat as the fashion industry is, somehow the Broadway stage managed to scare off the great Kurt Hummel. At least that's what I tell myself anyways. Anyways, I live with my best friend Rachel and her boy toy Brody but, I need my own place. As great as Bushwick is… well it actually isn't but, it's affordable- I can't stand the sight of naked Brody before breakfast anymore or early morning hollers of, "Brody, yes, more right there." As lovely as Rachel's voice is… I can't take it anymore.

But how did this lead to my dilemma you ask?

It all started with some insults, a cup of coffee, and one smirky meerkat.