Back in his office, Kurt was spinning around in his chair until the buzzing from the drawer started back up again. He put his foot down and stopped himself, feeling dizzy for a moment. Then he finally got a grip on the handle and pulled it open. He tilted his head to the side and reached down to pick up the vibrating device. It looked like an iPod, but it was more screen than dial, and it was super thin and unbelievably light. The screen was lit up with an incoming call and the name "Sam Evans" underneath a picture of the same guy that was in his apartment earlier that day. It must be some sort of phone, but he didn't understand how it worked because there was no keypad, and he didn't know where you were supposed to speak into or hear out of. This was high-tech, and it was certainly no RAZR.

He wanted to press the answer button, but then he also really didn't, remembering the comments that were made and the man's behavior. The phone stopped vibrating again, and then the screen showed that he had twelve missed calls and three text messages, most of which were from Sam.

Kurt poked at the screen, delighted and intrigued when it responded to his touch, his eyes scanning all the miniscule icons, and then he saw 'Photos'. He pressed his fingertip against the icon, and several little square icons popped up. Upon closer examination, he saw that they were pictures of him - a lot of pictures of him, actually, all by himself. He didn't understand why he or anyone would want so many pictures of just themselves without any friends, although, he had to admit that he did look pretty good in them. And, in almost every single one, he was just standing there, looking directly at the camera.

He scrolled through, and then a picture popped up with him and the Sam guy. Kurt was sitting in the man's lap and kissing his cheek. It made him feel inexplicably uncomfortable, but he looked more closely at the picture, and, the longer he looked at it, the more natural it just felt. Sam Evans looked like a male model, and Kurt realized that he really liked looking at the picture. There was another photo and another one, each just as gorgeous as the previous one.

He felt something sitting heavy in his stomach as he tried to fathom what he was feeling and attempted to sort out the questions that arose from looking at the pictures.

Kurt always knew that he liked looking at men on the television and in magazines, and, as beautiful as the girls were in his school, he never really had a crush on any of them. Up until now, it hadn't occurred to him that he might like guys more than just friends. But as he looked through the pictures, focusing on one in which he was actually kissing the blond man on the mouth, he allowed himself to wonder. Maybe what he felt toward Finn Hudson had been a little more than just admiration. Maybe it was...and it hit Kurt hard right then and there. He felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment. Although it was still difficult to admit to himself, there was no denying it: he was gay. And he apparently had a very attractive boyfriend.

Now he really needed to talk to Blaine. He needed to confide in him. Blaine had never judged him in the past, and, if he didn't say something, he felt like he'd go mad. He had to get everything sorted out, and he was scared because he knew people got beat up for being like he was, but, now that he had Blaine's phone number and address, he snatched the paper up from the desk, and raced out of the building, oblivious to the strange looks the other employees shot his way.

He tried to hail a cab out at the curb like he'd once seen in a movie, but they kept whizzing past him. Kurt walked down to the corner and tried again, waving his hands and shouting, but still none stopped for him. Just then, a bus pulled up by where he was standing, and his focus was drawn directly to the large advertisement plastered across the side of the bus featuring an all-too-familiar man in nothing but his underwear. Kurt's eyes strayed to the monstrous bulge, and he swallowed hard.

"Oh, wow."

Sam was a model. Kurt was dating an underwear model whose picture was on the side of a city bus.

-s-

Finding his attempt to hail a cab futile, Kurt began the trek through the city, being careful to follow signs. He even stopped and asked a police officer for directions at one point, and the officer gave him a funny look before offering him a friendly smile and sending him in the right direction. When he arrived at a building on the correct block, Kurt glanced down at the paper and then up at the address, and he knew that he had miraculously found Blaine's apartment.

Kurt bounced on the balls of his feet, an electricity coursing through him as he pressed his finger against the button by the name 'Anderson' at the entrance of the building. After a moment, a deep but unmistakable voice rang out through the speaker:

"Yes? Hello?"

"Blaine? Blaine Anderson?"

There was a brief silence. "This is he...is this the Thai delivery guy? If not, I'm not interested."

"No, wait, Blaine! It's me, Kurt," he pleaded.

"...Kurt?" He sounded as if he'd never heard the name before.

"Kurt Hummel -"

There was a long silence this time, then the buzzer went off to signal the unlocking of the door, and Kurt pushed his way in. He raced up the steps and along the hall, checking every door until he arrived at Blaine's apartment, 21B.

Kurt knocked on the door, his heart thumping wildly now. After what felt like forever, there was a clicking of locks and the sliding of a chain, and then the door finally swung open.

"Wow, Kurt. This is, um...unexpected. What are you doing here?"

"Blaine..."

"Yeah," he said, looking at Kurt like he had two heads.

"You - you're short," Kurt said bluntly. "And - you look so different - your hair..."

"Thanks? Did you come here to mock me or something?"

"Mock you? Why would I - ?" Kurt grew quiet. "Can I come in?"

Blaine didn't answer. Instead, he simply opened the door wider and gestured for Kurt to enter.

"I missed you so much," Kurt said, feeling himself growing tearful. "Something really strange is happening. I was at my thirteenth birthday party, and then I was here, like this, and now you're like that -"

"Are you drunk, Kurt?" Blaine asked, wearing an expression of scrutiny.

"What? No, Blaine, I'm serious! Somehow I skipped everything, and I can't remember my life. I need you to help me remember."

"Kurt -"

"Only my best friend could really help me, right? Because everything is moving so fast, and I'm confused, and I just need you -"

"Kurt," Blaine said more firmly, and Kurt stopped. "What are you talking about? I don't know anything about you or your life. We haven't even said so much as two words to each other since high school - freshman year, to be exact," Blaine said. He crossed his arms and stared questioningly at Kurt.

"That's impossible," Kurt said with a laugh. "You're my best friend, Blaine. We've always been best friends."

"No, Kurt. We used to be best friends. A long time ago."

"But - oh god." Kurt felt like his entire world was crumbling and crashing down on him. He dropped his head into his hands, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said.

After a moment, Kurt looked up, his eyes shining and tearful. "What happened to us, Blaine?"

"Are you okay? You seriously don't remember?"

"No..."

"Here, just, sit down, Kurt," Blaine said, grabbing his arms and leading him over to the couch. Kurt dropped down and grabbed one of the throw pillows, gripping it to his chest like a teddy bear as if it might shield him from further hurt.

"Why did we stop being friends?" Kurt asked in a small voice.

"We took separate paths. You made the Cheerios, became super chummy with Quinn, and then were too cool to hang out with a loser like me, the head soloist of the show choir and number one slushie target." Blaine shivered at a distant memory.

"I made the Cheerios?" Kurt asked.

"Yep. Co-captain. Everyone kissed your feet. Probably because they were afraid of you. And, of course, everyone voted for you for Prom King alongside Miss Queen Fabray herself. You two looked perfect together, by the way."

Kurt was so caught up in what was being said, that he was unfazed by Blaine's bitter tone and scathing comments. "I was co-captain of the Cheerios and Prom King...? I got everything I wanted," he said, more to himself.

Blaine grunted. "Sure did. High school was your oyster, Kurt Hummel, and you ate up everything that was given to you...and pushed around anyone who didn't give you what you wanted."

"I don't understand..."

"What is confusing to you?"

"We're both living our dreams. I thought we were going to be so happy together, be able to celebrate together."

"Well you thought wrong. God, why are you doing this to me?" Blaine ran a hand through his hair. "Wanted to waltz in here out of nowhere and remind me about everything? Just so you could throw it in my face? I know I'm a loser, Kurt. Just some pathetic struggling musician who can barely afford his rent, and you...you - "

"Um, I think I'm going to leave. Yeah, that's - that's a good idea," Kurt said, choking back a sob as he rose from the couch, tossing the pillow aside. "Blaine," Kurt started, suddenly remembering something from earlier. "There's a party tonight - for my work - at The Palace. It'll be fun. If you change your mind and decide you want anything to do with me, you're welcome to come. I - I want you to come." He turned around so Blaine couldn't see him as he fell apart, and, just as the tears began to fall, Kurt hastily left the apartment, nearly slamming the door behind him.

How could any of this be? It didn't make any sense to him. He would never push Blaine away, their friendship was too special, tried and tested with age...and they were comfortable, knowing that their deepest secrets were safe with each other. But Kurt no longer felt that security. Instead, he felt like the floor had opened up beneath him, and all he could do was fall.