A/N: Hi there – just a brief note from me.

I thought I'd post up this chapter too, just so that anyone that is interested can see where I'm kind of thinking of going with this.

This is pretty much as introspective as it gets, as I've wanted to establish the crucial parts of the back story I'm working from. I suspect from here on out there will be more plot – this is not an angst piece.

I'm not a huge fan of posting song lyrics through what I write, so that probably won't happen a lot (if at all). However, what I do find is that I sometimes have a song pop into my head whilst I'm writing that is somehow related to how I'm thinking. When that happens, I shall pop a little note at the start of the chapter, telling you what you can search on youtube to have a listen to the song, if you are so inclined.

Also, just an important little note – I don't own Glee.

I hope you enjoy my story!

For this chapter, I would recommend searching for "How far I'll fly Napoleon" on youtube. The first link that comes up should give you an idea of the song that I'm thinking of at the moment.

Chapter One: Goodbye, Washington

"I'm going to miss you, kiddo," said my father, Burt, gruffly.

"I'm going to miss you too, Dad."

"But… hey – you're finally getting away from me, moving on, and pursuing your own life. I'm so proud of you".

"Dad…"

"No, I mean it Kurt. Maybe the hand life has dealt you wasn't what you always thought it would be. Maybe you didn't go to NYADA, and maybe you no longer want to be on Broadway. But that doesn't mean that what you're doing with your life now isn't exactly what you were always meant to do."

"Dad."

"I'm proud of you, kiddo, and that isn't going to change."

I threw his hands around my father, shoving my carry-on bag out of the way.

"Remember, Kurt, remember that I once told you that it was a parent's job to love their child no matter what? Loving and supporting you doesn't need to be a job, Kurt, you're going places, and I'm going to look on with joy as I watch you succeed."

I simply couldn't talk. I had tears streaming down my cheeks, and I felt a slight lump forming in my throat.

"Dad…" I tried once again to choke out.

"Son, good luck, and I will miss you."

I opened my mouth to reply when I heard an announcement coming over the loud speaker.

Flight ZK293, non-stop to Los Angeles, now boarding at Gate 7. That's Flight ZK293 now boarding at Gate 7.

"That's my flight, Dad, I have to go. Bye."

"Goodbye, son. I'll talk to you tonight. Take care."

With that, I turned around and walked away. I simply had to keep moving. My father was the one person in my life that had been there for me and supported me. He was there when things were good, and he remained when things were bad. Of course, he could never understand the totality of my experience; he could never have understood everything I was going through. At that time, I didn't think anyone could understand anyone else entirely. However, what mattered was not whether he 'got' everything that I said. What mattered was that he cared enough to try and understand and to try not to judge.

I simply didn't know what was coming up for me. Of course, I knew what job I had accepted across the country – I was LA bound to be an intern script writer and director for an up-and-coming television show. I mean that, in the bigger picture, I didn't know what my life would turn out like. All I knew at that time was that I was standing on the edge of the precipice of life, and I was finally ready to dive in to the next step of my experience.

At that point, I think I had convinced myself that life probably wasn't going to miraculously get better. I'd given up on waiting for my Prince Charming to ride out of the sunset with a smile on his face. I no longer expected that one day someone would look at me like I was their entire world, and then lean in to gently capture my lips in a sweet kiss.

After I didn't get in to NYADA, I decided to pursue another direction that had always interested me. I think that, at that time, I couldn't see the forest for all the trees that were surrounding me. Glee club had saved my life, quite literally. It had pulled me through the quagmire of high school, and delivered me to the other side with at least some sort of shot at life. I felt indebted to Glee club, and I felt compelled to continue to pursue the one endeavour that I had been able to share with some other people, the one thing that had allowed me to develop human connections.

I think, in hindsight, that the universe did me a favour when it compelled Carmen Thibodeau to decide that I wasn't quite suited to NYADA. It forced me to consider other things that gave me pleasure. It also forced me to consider other strengths of mine that would allow me to be eligible for late entry into tertiary level study in some form.

Everything worked out in the end – I ended up gaining admission to the University of Washington to study creative writing, and I was able to live with my father in a little two-bedroom apartment that we picked out together (I was, of course, responsible for all of the decorating choices). He returned home to Lima to see Carol, and sometimes Finn, in the weekends, and I ended up living in D.C. almost full-time.

So, with my degree in creative writing completed, I found myself off to Los Angeles, having scored myself an internship as a script writer for the new show 'Life and All Its Little Quirks' about a group of flat-mates experiencing the ups and downs of college life.

I suppose I'd go lucky, really. It's not often that they open up internship spots to recent college graduates. In this case, however, they had decided that I was likely exactly what they needed. They do say to write about what you know, after all. And who better to interject a little bit of insider knowledge into a show about college than a recent graduate – especially one with the ability to (hopefully) construct proper sentences.

I did have to modify my writing style, in the end. It had to become more conversational, more easily translatable to screen, so that people could identify with it. That was a challenge that I quickly overcame, and with that, I had fallen into my new role.

I don't know if I'll ever be famous, per say. I think often that comes with having that lucky break, or that one genius idea that launches a hit TV show. But I found that I was good at what I do. It turns out that enjoying my job and being good at it are more important to me than crowds of people staring at me and knowing my name. Who would have guessed it?

So, anyway, I boarded my plane bound for LA, filled with both nervousness and excitement.

I was finally leaving the safety net of my college life and proximity to my father. I was finally moving on as an adult. There would certainly no longer be any padded surfaces to fall back on if I got knocked down. From now on, everything mattered – every little decision and action would contribute to my future.

I'm not religious. I think I established that fact quite well when my father had his heart attack back in my Junior year of high school. I think the term 'agnostic' would far better describe my outlook on life.

I believe, firstly, that people need something bigger than themselves to believe in. However, the exact nature of that thing, or what it stands for, is something I wouldn't presume to know enough to discern. I believe that there is something akin to paths of destiny, but I don't think these are mapped out for us at birth. Perhaps there are things that are meant to happen along the way that we cannot control, but I think that we also need to accept that there is quite a lot of human agency operating in the world. I think that our own little choices do influence our lives more than we let on.

And so, I was on my way, down a path that existed for me all along, but taking a turn in my own direction. I was making my own destiny, taking this opportunity with some apprehension and a lot of anticipation.

"Can I offer you tea or coffee?"

That question from the flight attendant jolted me out of my musings, and I quickly nodded my head, "Coffee please, milk and two sugars." Of course, I would have preferred by grande non-fat mocha, but my next sip of that delicious beverage could wait until I was ensconced in LA.

She smiled as she handed it to me, and I couldn't help but think that maybe this truly was the start of something new for me.

I had just finished my coffee and was beginning to inspect the on board entertainment when I felt an odd pressure on my shoulder. Looking down, I saw a girl's head leaning on my shoulder. Its owner had clearly decided it was time to take a quick nap.

I never had liked the awkwardly close nature of economy class airplane seats, and the innumerable slight physical encounters that came with them. Physical encounters were not my strong point, let along with strangers. I supposed that I should have counted myself lucky that she was of an average size and the only part of her that was encroaching on my personal space was her head.

I gave a barely perceptible sigh, and resigned myself to a few hours of being a human pillow. I made the decision that a slight weight on my shoulder was preferable to the undoubted awkwardness that would come from waking up a complete stranger and asking them to keep their unintentional body-part movements to themselves.

It was like the universe was waiting for me to make that decision. Barely a second later, I felt a similar pressure on my other shoulder. I glanced down, while trying to remain as still as possible. Sure enough, a second head had decided I would make an excellent pillow. Just brilliant.

Most people would take from this something along the lines of – 'let this be a warning to you, always do your utmost not to get a centre seat'.

I, of course, couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of signal that I shouldn't be quite so optimistic.

Looking back, I think perhaps it was a reminder for me that there is good and bad in everything – and in everyone. After all, life isn't simply black and white.

After a smooth landing I waited at the baggage carousel to collect my bags. For some reason, every time I have to do that I wait with baited breath for my suitcase to arrive. Logically, I know that the chances of it not arriving are fairly slim, and the chances of the airline not being able to find it should it not arrive on time are even slimmer. Still, I think waiting for one's suitcase is just one of those things that must induce anxiety.

I caught the bus to my apartment as I felt that it was impossible to justify the expense of an airport transfer, given that I had specifically chosen an apartment that was centrally located in order to cut down on any transport costs.

During the ride, it occurred to me that I had taken a bit of a risk. I had taken out a lease on an apartment that would most likely quite literally form the centre of my world for the next few years, and I had done so sight unseen.

I mean, in the pictures it looked nice. Or, at least, as nice as something could be when I was renting it on a starting wage. But what did I really know about it? I certainly didn't know anything about my neighbours or the other people in my building. What if I ended up living next to a homophobe? On the other hand, I could live across the hall from a budding fashion designer.

But I suppose that's the point, really, isn't it? You never know where life is going to take you. You never know, if you step outside your door, where you might end up. While that kind of thought process may well remind you of J.R.R. Tolkien's masterful The Hobbit, I think his premise is valid. Life is about the unexpected. It simply isn't possible to predict everything. Furthermore, to be honest, I think that, if you could predict everything, life probably wouldn't even be a human experience. It's the unpredictability and the corresponding depth of emotion that makes life real.

And so, I used my swipe card to enter my new building for the first time. The doorman smiled at me, and I made a note to make a point of learning his name – it was the polite thing to do, after all. I was sure I would also end up baking him some cookies at some point, too.

My apartment was 7B – on the seventh floor of the twenty-one story building. As I understood it, there were less apartments on the high floors, as those apartments were much larger and fancier than mine (and came with corresponding price-tags).

I dragged my suitcase into the elevator, but made a point to note the location of the stairwell. I figured that it would at least give me an excuse to exercise every day, if nothing else.

And then I was there, at the door to my new home.

I took a deep breath as I turned my lock in the key and pushed the door open slowly.

It wasn't too bad – off white walls and no furniture – both things I could work with.

I gave myself a brief smile as I heard the lock click behind me. I was in my new home.

I pulled my sleeping bag and pillow out of my bag – I would go shopping for some furniture tomorrow. I also grabbed my wallet before heading out to find a take-out shop with healthy options – just until I had a chance to do some grocery shopping.

I think it was with those thoughts that reality truly hit me.

"I live alone," I muttered, as I headed back out my door and to the stairwell.

My new life was about to begin.