A/N- Ummm... A month? Have I really ignored this thing for a month? God I'm dumb. Here's a rather long chapter, for anyone who is still willing to put up with my stupidity.

Kurt fell back on the bed of his seedy motel room. He had been in Cleveland for five days now. If they were going to give him a callback, they would've done it by now. Kurt sighed and pulled two slips of paper from his pocket, along with his cell phone. He needed some help.

His fingers dialed Mercedes' number without him even thinking about it, like they had done so many times before. Kurt held the phone to his ear and waited, but not for long. "Kurt!" Mercedes tried to sound excited, but it came out anxious. "Did you get a part?"

"I don't think so." He heard Mercedes take a sharp breath and start talking again, but he cut her off. "That's not actually what I called about, Cedes."

"Oh. Well what do you need? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," he replied, forever grateful of how much she cared. "I just have a question." Kurt looked down at the two papers. One was a business card with the name of a casting director on it. The other, a strip of a napkin with a phone number scribbled on it in poor handwriting. "I have in my hand two numbers. One could get me a date with a cute guy, the other could get me a job. Which do I call first?"

Mercedes wanted to squeal in excitement, but kept calm for Kurt's sake. "You know what I"m gonna say."

"Right. Call the casting director first."

"NO!" Cedes' angry voice rang out, making Kurt pull the phone away from his ear quickly. "Kurt Hummel, you call that guy right now, before I drive to Cleveland and smack the blush off your white boy cheeks!" He voice softened, anger subsiding. "You're too focused on work, baby. Go have some fun for once."

Kurt sighed. To be honest, he was considering ignoring that number all together. But id Mercedes insisted... "Alright, I'll call him. Thanks hon."

"No problem. You coming home soon?"

Kurt's mind immediately jumped to his little house, but he quickly pushed the image away. That wasn't home anymore. "Yeah, I'll head back tomorrow."

He just knew his friend was smiling. "Good, I missed you. I gotta go, this design needs to be done tonight or I'm screwed. Bye, Kurt."

"Bye, Cedes." Kurt pressed end, then looked down at the napkin. Let's get this over with.

He cringed with every button his fingers pressed, but soon it was time to hit send. The phone rang quietly and Kurt was about to hang up after the third ring, when a smooth voice answered. "Hello?"

"Patrick? This is Kurt. Kurt Hummel?" He started brushing his fingers through his hair nervously.

"Oh, yeah, the guy from the audition! I'm glad you called, I was getting worried."

Kurt gave a shaky laugh. "Sorry about that. Ummm... Okay, I've only ever been with one guy so I don't really know how to do this," Shit. He hit himself in the forehead. I haven't even gone on a date with him and I'm already spilling the beans. "So, uhh, do you wanna grab a coffee or something? With me?"

"Sounds great!" Patrick seemed way more enthusiastic than Kurt felt. "How's tomorrow morning sound? I've got a couple hours free."

"Oh, yeah that's fine. Is 9 good? I've actually gotta drive pretty far tomorrow."

"Yeah, that'll work. I know a great café that makes a mean muffin, we can have breakfast together."

"Great." Kurt smiled faintly. He hadn't expected this to go so smoothly. "I have to make another phone call. Could you text me the address and I'll just meet you there?"

"Sure, can't wait. I'll see you tomorrow then. Bye, Kurt."

"Bye, Patrick." He ended the call, and a text message popped up on the screen not long after. He jotted the address down on the back of his hand and moved on to the business card.

One ring. Two. The last call had given Kurt a new confidence. He would wait through a hundred rings if that's what it came to.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait through more than three. An airy female voice answered the phone. "Bower Talent Agency, this is Katie speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hi, Katie. This is Kurt Hummel, I was told I should speak with Mr. Richards." He was clutching the phone so hard that it hurt, worried that he had been tricked.

"Oh yes, he's been expecting your call. I'm afraid he isn't here at the moment, but he did tell me that he would like to see you tomorrow. He's free at 10 tomorrow, if you can come in."

"Yeah, of course!" The brunette wanted to jump up and down, scream at the top of his lungs. "I'll be sure to make it there on time. So just go to the address on the card?"

"Correct. He asks that you come with a resumé and song prepared, Mr. Richards is very interested in your abilities."

"And I'm interested in showing him. Thank you, Katie." He said good bye and hung up, trying to take a deep breath. Maybe things were starting to look up.

Mercedes had been sewing for hours now, and finally her dress was finished. It was a silky wraparound built for plus sized women, a minor piece of the major collection she would someday have. Just as she was about to make herself a plate of celebratory tatter tots, her cell phone rang.

The screen glowed with the name Rachel Berry, and Mercedes let out a sigh. What kind of fabulousstory do I need to hear now? She answered the phone, rudely replying, "This better be good Rachel. You're keeping me from a plate of little golden angels right now."

Rachel sputtered, clearly confused, but soon gained her usual composure. "I am about to tell you something, but you CAN NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE tell Kurt. Okay?"

"Alright, alright! What is it? You bought him a new Gucci and you want it to be a surprise?"

"No, far from that." She sounded worried, and Mercedes decided this might be the kind of conversation you wanna sit down for. "It's about Blaine."

"Oh, HELL to the no. Blaine is gone now Rachel, we are never bringing up that sorry son of a bitch again. EVER." Mercedes was already more angry than she had been in the month Kurt was living here. Just hearing that fucking name-

"Cedes! This is important!" She stopped seething for a moment to listen to Rachel. "I found him."

It had been almost a week since Spencer had last talked to her mysterious roommate. Judging by the fluctuating amount of alcohol in his refrigerator and the slamming doors in the middle of the night, Blaine had been staying while she was at work or class, then leaving just before she came home. Spencer was fine with that. As long as the rent got payed, it didn't matter.

Still, she was a bit worried. Blaine was clearly unstable. Having someone like that in your life can take a toll on you, and you start to feel obligated to care for them. And they were becoming friends over this past month, before their fight. Spencer walked up to her apartment, back from a late shift at work. Maybe there was some way she could help him, like finding him a job or counseling or-

"Oof!" Or picking his drunk ass up off the floor. Blaine was laying in the kitchen with his head propped up against the door, and Spencer had hit him pretty bad when she opened it. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but then she saw his face. He looked... Spencer couldn't really describe how he looked. Almost like he just watched his best friend get hit by a car, or had to put his pet down or something. Like there was never going to be anything good about life ever again.

"Blaine?" Spencer knelt down beside him, holding his head up before it could droop back down again. "Blaine, what's wrong?" He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot from- Wait a minute. There was no alcohol in sight. His gaze was sharp and sad, not that mildly depressed, glazed over look they usually had. Blaine didn't even smell like beer. Has he been crying?

"Seriously, Blaine, what's wrong?" He looked at her face, saw the worry it held, and soon he was sobbing in her arms.

It was an hour or so before Blaine could form coherent sentences. Spencer had sat him at the kitchen table, a coffee in one hand and his chin in the other. Blaine's face was splotchy and tear-stained, but at least he was ready to talk now.

"So... yeah. That's the story." He had told her everything, from failing at his music career to all the times he had hurt Kurt (or at least, the ones he could remember) right up until the time he left. Now he sat there looking forlorn. "And then I saw Rachel, and everything just started hurting again."

"Okay, you're gonna need to explain. Who's Rachel? What happened?" He took a deep breath, ready to start his next story.

Blaine walked down a busy New York street not far from Times Square. He had only been to New York a few times, but this used to be one of his favorite spots. All these people rushing by would make him think that he was part of a whole, but maybe he could still stand out from the crowd. Now it left him feeling empty, like he was the guy in the crowd that no one noticed when he disappeared.

Someone did notice him though. Blaine was hearing his name called over and over again, but he couldn't see anyone he knew. His paranoia grew, and soon he was running down the street, shoving people out of his way.

Whoever was following him was faster though. Blaine was cut off by a tiny brunette with a huffy expression and an indescribably bad outfit.

"Blaine Anderson!" Rachel stomped her foot like a diva, her Mary Janes clicking on the sidewalk. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He gaped at the tiny girl, mentally cursing himself. How many times had Kurt mentioned that Rachel was studying at Julliard? He thought, out of the millions of people in New York City, he would never run into her. Clearly fate wasn't so kind.

"Leave me alone, Rachel." He tried to go around her, but again she was too quick.

"No! You don't know how badly I wanted to find you."

"Oh? And why is that?"

Rachel got on her tiptoes and, with a fiendish smile, slapped him across the face. "To do that! Blaine, how could you hurt Kurt like that!" She was glaring so hard Blaine was afraid her eyes would carve a hole through his head. "He loved you!"

He was rubbing his jaw, and said (regretfully) the only thing he knew would shock Berry enough for him to escape. "Yeah, well the feeling wasn't mutual."

She looked at him with hurt in her eyes, her mouth open but no words escaping. Blaine took the opportunity to run.

Kurt walked into the tiny café, letting the scent of pastries and fresh coffee grace his nostrils. He looked around shyly and saw his date, sitting in the far corner with two mugs in front of him. Kurt smiled and walked over to Patrick, who slid one of the mugs in his direction. "I had the feeling you aren't a decaf kind of guy."

Kurt laughed. "No sir. I like my coffee to have a purpose, and that purpose is to wake me up."

It was Patrick's turn to laugh. "So true! I hate decaf, the point of drinking coffee is to get buzzed." He took a sip of his drink, and Kurt noticed that Patrick drank his coffee black. It was one of those interesting little things that he liked to notice about people. "So, what would you like for breakfast? I can just go order for the two of us."

"Oh, umm... A double chocolate muffin sounds great." Patrick nodded and got in line, giving Kurt the opportunity to shamelessly look at him. He was tall and thin, with reddish brown hair cut in a sweeping look just below his ears. His blue eyes we're kinda cute, and his freckles gave him that boyish look Kurt found amusing. In all, he wasn't bad to look at. It just wasn't what Kurt was used to looking at...

Patrick came back to their table, and the two took half an hour just talking to eachother. It turned out they had a lot in common. Both were aspiring actors, and loved musicals. Patrick was a Patti LuPone fan, which made Kurt swoon a little. Kurt told him about him scarf fetish, which Patrick found insanely adorable, and then he told Kurt about his love of finding comfortable but sexy shoes. It turned out that Patrick knew a lot about cars too, which Kurt found surprising. It lead into a conversation about their childhoods, their families, their schools... And that's the part where Kurt couldn't talk anymore. He started to say something about Dalton Academy, but all of those memories were too closely related to him.

Kurt got frenzied, not knowing what else to say. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was 9:45. Thank Gaga! "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry Patrick, but I have to go... I have a meeting at 10 with a casting director, it's really important you know?"

"Yeah, of course." Patrick looked a little upset, but tried to smile as Kurt hurriedly grabbed his jacket and satchel. "Maybe we can do this again sometime?"

"Yeah, maybe. Bye, Patrick!" Kurt called over his shoulder and gave his date a wave, but never looked back to see if it was returned.

Blaine was rolled out of bed the next morning by a very determined blonde. "Spencer, what're you doing?" He rubbed his eyes, still achy from crying the night before.

"Helping you. I took the day off of work and I'm dedicating it to helping you straighten your life out." She took his hand and helped him out of bed, then started ripping the sheets away from the mattress. "We're gonna clean your room, get all this sad crap outta here, and you're gonna dump all of the alcohol in the fridge down the drain."

"What? But-"

"No buts. If you think that's being wasteful or something, then give it to the college kids down the hall. Lord knows they'll love you for it." She pulled a trash bag out of the pocket of her hoodie and started picking up stray cans. She threw in clothes that had irremovable stains, old food wrappers, and anything else she deemed unfit to be in a clean room.

"Fine." Blaine grabbed the booze and hesitantly opened the apartment door, making his trek down to 21A and leaving the lonely bottles and cans on someone's doorstep. He backed away slowly, his body willing him one way while his brain pulled the other. When he finally made it back to his apartment, Spencer was on the phone.

"Blaine! You said you're a musician right?"

He frowned. "Yeah, I sing and play guitar. Why?"

Spencer gave him a wide smile. "I wish you had told me that sooner. I have a buddy who has a band, they've been looking for a guitar player for a while now. They're alright I guess-" She was cut off by someone on the other end of the phone, who was yelling at her. "Alright, jeez! They're a really good band! And they want you to audition tomorrow morning at the club they play at. Ever heard of The Outer Edge?"

"No."

"Oh. That's okay, you'll know about it soon enough. You're meeting them there tomorrow at 6, a couple hours before the crowd starts to come through." She finished up her phone conversation and made a pot of coffee, forcing Blaine to stay in the kitchen for a chat. "So, next order of business. Kurt."

"I can't call him, Spence. He hates me."

"You don't know that for sure," she said, taking his hand. "Besides, I wasn't going to tell you to call him."

"Then what were you gonna say? Run back to Ohio and apologize to him?" He was getting more and more upset waiting to hear her idea.

"No. I think you should write him a letter. You don't have to send it, just write it." She got up and opened a kitchen drawer, pulling out a pen and an old sheet of paper. "Say what you wanna tell him, it'll make you feel better." Spencer squeezed his hand and left the kitchen, giving Blaine his privacy. He stared at the blank page for what felt like hours, knowing there was all too much to write on just one sheet of paper.

Kurt felt breathless, but he looked at the two men across the room from him and knew he should start singing soon. Talent scouts lost interest quite easily.

People
People who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world,
We're children, needing other children
And yet letting our grown-up pride
Hide all the need inside,
Acting more like children
Than children.
Lovers are very special people,
They're the luckiest people
In the world.

With one person, one very special person
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half,
Now you're whole.
No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person
Who needs people.
People who need people
Are the luckiest people
In the world!

With one person, one very special person
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half,
Now you're whole.

A tear started rolling down Kurt's cheek, and his voice cracked as he wiped it away. This was a terrible song choice, and thinking about him this morning didn't help. "I'm sorry," he said, trying to quickly get back to the song. "I'm just-"

"It's alright, Kurt. Actually, I think we've seen everything we need to see." The two men stood and began collecting their papers.

"Wait! I'm sorry, I'm usually a lot better, I can sing something else for you if you-"

"It's alright, Kurt. We have a meeting to get to," the other man said. He straightened his suit nonchalantly as he walked to the door. "We'll call you."

Kurt stood alone in the room and soon an assistant shuffled him out. He left the building slowly, wishing there was something more that he could do.

No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person
Who needs people.
People who need people
Are the luckiest people
In the world!