Blaine had had a terrible day by the time 3 o'clock had rolled around. The kids had been upset, and more than one had cried when he announced it would be his last day. None of the kids had wanted to do anything but talk about how much they would miss him the entire class, and it pulled at Blaine's fragile heartstrings. He couldn't help but tear up as the last kid filed out of his classroom. He looked around his classroom and sighed, knowing it would be hard to leave.

All over the walls were pictures of instruments that the kids had drawn next to photographs of them. He sighed, before walking over to one that the class had drawn together. Everyone had drawn themselves with their favorite instrument on a long sheet of paper. Blaine had smiled as he pinned it up, each of the kids excitedly chirping about it behind him.

"Mr. Anderson!" They'd cry out excitedly, "Do you see me?"

"Blaine?" a voice from the doorway had asked quietly. He turned to see Erica Lee, the Art Teacher at Maple Grove, "You alright?"

"No." Blaine said, a sigh escaping his lips, "I mean, I know I should be okay, because as much as it stinks-" he chuckled at his censorship he had become accustomed to, "that I have to leave, I should be thrilled, because I'm moving in with Kurt, and I get to wrap my arms around him every night. I mean, I won't have that empty lonely feeling when I get home, but still. How can I leave this place?"

"Blaine," Erica looked at him, "If you don't want to leave, then don't." "It's not that easy, Erica." He retorted, anger seeping into his tone, "I can't be away from him any longer." "Well, I don't see what's so great about him anyways, Blaine. He's ripping you away from all of this. He sounds like an asshole, if you ask me." Erica said, sitting down in one of the student chairs.

"One, Erica, you know you can't swear here, and two, you don't know him. Don't you DARE talk badly about him!" He half shouted, before quickly recollecting himself, "You should leave." She rolled her eyes before quickly exiting the room, leaving Blaine standing there by himself, tears in his eyes, from frustration, heartbreak and confusion.


Kurt ran down the busy New York City street, his arms full of sketchbooks and portfolios that wouldn't fit in his bag.

"TAXI!" He shouted, waving an arm frantically, glancing at his watch, "FUCKING TAXI!" Kurt couldn't afford to be late for this meeting. One of the too-familiar New York City cabs pulled over and Kurt hastily hopped in, half shouting the address as he attempted to straighten himself out. He was meeting with a Fashion company this afternoon who was searching for new and upcoming designers. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. If he managed to land the spot, he could get away with living in the city for a couple more years until his name was established, then he could move back to Vermont like Blaine wanted.

He needed this job.

He paid the cab driver and quickly headed out into the large building. There was a young receptionist sitting at the front desk with long blonde hair and hazel eyes almost as striking as Blaine's.

"Hi, I'm here for my appointment? My name is Kurt Hummel." Kurt smiled, looking at her, adjusting his bag. She rolled her eyes and sighed, typing into her computer quickly.

"He'll see you. Down the hall, last room on the right."