(Author's note: It's third season, their senior year. The story is no longer canon compliant, but there are tidbits of things that happen in that season sprinkled throughout. -amy)

"I don't know," was the answer on Kurt's lips on the first day of senior year. Mostly the question he was answering was Where's Puck? but it also applied to other questions. Did you have a good summer? Where are you going to college next year?

It was even the answer when Santana asked him, "What musical do you think we should do this fall?"

For that, at least, he had some meaningful thoughts. "Something big, with lots of dancing, to feature Brittany and Mike."

That made her smile. At the first Glee club meeting, she and Quinn and Brittany converged on Mr. Schue before he could explain the meaning of the purple pianos all over the school.

"We want to do a musical this fall," Quinn said. "And we think Kurt should produce it."

Kurt sat up straight. "Wait a second."

"Totally," Finn agreed. "Kurt, you studied that stuff all summer. The only person more qualified is Rachel, and there's no way she wouldn't want to perform. Right, Rach?"

"Correct," said Rachel primly. Her face was tanned and her hair somewhat shorter, but she looked to be the same person who'd left McKinley last spring. Kurt knew that wasn't something he could say about himself.

"Well, what about Puck?" he stammered.

Santana looked right and left. "You see him anywhere around here? For all we know, he's back in juvie."

Kurt bit his lip, casting around for an answer that would make sense. "His—his great-uncle died two weeks ago."

Mr. Schue gave him a sympathetic nod. "Barbara Wright told me his uncle's memorial was really something else." He looked around the room at their eager faces. "I think that's exactly the kind of challenge we need. What do you say, Kurt? Are you up for putting on a big production?"

He swallowed. This was as close to stage fright as he'd felt since the end of Grease his eighth grade year. "Well, I guess…"

"Kurt, you were amazing in Romeo & Juliet," said Tina.

Mike nodded. "We trust you, right?"

Mercedes reached out and put a soft hand on his arm. "Come on, Kurt," she said, smiling. "If anybody can do it, you can."

He took a big breath, then let it out. "Okay. Yes. I'll do it."

When Kurt texted Chris and Asher at lunch, they were both wildly enthusiastic about the idea of Kurt producing the school musical. Asher called him back right away.

"I think I'm going to audition for the Warblers this year," he said. "Not that I really have time, but it would be fun."

"That's exactly how I feel about this," Kurt agreed. "My course load is ridiculous. Maybe I should drop AP Calculus. And yes, you should definitely audition for the Warblers."

"All right. Oh, and I have a roommate this year." He sighed. "I did request not to have a single, but now I'm kind of regretting it. He's been civil enough, but from what little I've seen of him on Facebook, he's a right-wing asshole."

"Yikes." Kurt shivered. "After what happened with Chris, I really don't want you to take any chances. Can you talk to somebody about switching to a different room?"

"We have a two-week grace period in which we can make any adjustments, but so far all they said was for us to try to work things out. I promise I won't let anything slide, okay? And good luck with the musical!"

By the end of the first day of school, Chris had provided a spreadsheet outlining twelve suggestions about which musical they should do, ranked by number of performers, male/female parts, dance production scenes, with all voice parts listed for each. Kurt had to laugh, shaking his head.

"You really need to get a job," he told Chris on the drive home from school.

"My surgeon says I can't dance for another three weeks," Chris replied on the speaker. "You'll have to live with me being your virtual assistant director. Also, I'm going to be lining up your college auditions for you. Juilliard is first, in October."

"I'm not auditioning for Juilliard," protested Kurt.

"Why not?" Finn asked. "Hi, Chris, it's Finn."

"I know who you are, Mr. Boatman. Tell your stepbrother he needs to audition everywhere because all the schools' application departments talk to one another, at least about the applicants who impress them. Follow Bryce's advice. All attention is good attention at this point, remember?"

Kurt frowned at Finn's encouraging nod. "Juilliard doesn't have a musical theater program."

"Tell me you wouldn't appreciate an opportunity to focus on acting for two years, Kurt. You could still take voice lessons and dance. I'm already putting together the schedule for applications and auditions. Just smile and nod, Kurt. I'm not going to take no."

"He's smiling, but he's not nodding," Finn reported.

Chris laughed. "It's a start."

"Thou shalt kill me with such cherishing," Kurt said balefully. "I'll call you later after I look at the list of potential musicals, Chip." He disconnected the call.

"This is going to be awesome, Kurt," Finn said.

Kurt couldn't help smile at his enthusiasm. "You're going to audition for NYADA, right?"

"Of course. I mean, lots of people are way better than me, but so what, right? Being in that musical with Michael and Quinn made it a lot easier to feel like, you know, it's a group effort. Like in Sunday in the Park."

"Like Sondheim said," Kurt agreed. "Together, we are more than the sum of our parts."

Blaine called him at the end of the first week. Kurt considered not answering when he saw his name on the screen, but he decided that was just cowardice on his part.

"Have you scheduled auditions for the Warblers yet?" he asked.

"Oh, they were last week," said Blaine. "We try to get them out of the way before the semester begins."

Kurt frowned. "How exactly is that fair for incoming freshmen? They wouldn't even know about the Warblers until after it was too late."

"That's kind of the point, Kurt. It's an elite society club, not a free-for-all. You have to know who to talk to."

"Didn't you tell Asher he should audition?"

"Oh. I forgot about that." Blaine sounded thoughtful. "Well, that's different. I could certainly set up a special invitation for him. I know he said he can sing, but… are you sure he's any good?"

"I still haven't heard him."

"Kurt, I don't want to be embarrassed by this." Blaine sighed. "Maybe I could go to his room and listen to him there, before I put myself out there with the Warbler's Council?"

He wanted to give Blaine a piece of his mind. Elite social club, my ass. But he modulated his voice and said, as kindly as he could, "Thank you, Blaine. I'm sure he would appreciate your help. I'll have him contact you."

Asher was more than a little distraught when Kurt told him. "Blaine Anderson wants to come to my room and hear me sing?"

"You met him," Kurt replied. "He's an ordinary person, and this is just another audition. Don't stress out about it."

By comparison, Finn was handling Michael's move to New York with ease.

"We talk on the phone every day," Finn said over dinner, when Carole asked how Michael was doing. "Yeah, it's not exactly the same as having him here, but he's excited about NYADA, and I'm kind of okay with having my senior year without him."

"But you're still together?" Carole wanted to know.

"It's not important right now." Finn shrugged. "I mean, I love him, and I know he loves me, and that's not going away. We get to have our own lives. I'm feeling pretty good about that right now."

Kurt continued to call Noah occasionally at night, and every time he got his voicemail. When the new head of the university theater club emailed Kurt and asked if he and Noah would be returning that fall, Kurt said he wasn't sure, but he would be in touch. No one in his family asked Kurt about Noah anymore, and after the first few days of school, students stopped talking about his absence.

It wasn't until long after auditions for West Side Story had been scheduled that Kurt paused outside Ms. Pillsbury's office, thinking about the note he'd seen weeks before on Ruth Puckerman's refrigerator. After a brief hesitation, he knocked. She smiled and beckoned for him to come in.

"Kurt," she said, "I'm so excited about your musical! You and Artie are working together, right?"

"Yes, we're co-directors." He perched on the chair in front of her desk. "Everything is going smoothly, although we could probably use your help with costumes again this year."

"I would be thrilled to assist. And how are your plans going for college? Have you decided where to apply?"

Kurt thought about the detailed chart Chris had drawn up for him, and nodded. "I submitted most of my applications before the early deadlines. The first live auditions are in October, but I'm working on my videos for those I can submit online."

"Well, you're in better shape than most of the seniors I've been talking to this month." She tilted her head. "What can I help you with?"

"It's about Noah Puckerman."

Her smile faded. "Well, um, as a matter of fact…"

"I saw a note on his fridge this summer, dated last spring. It had a funny word on it: Pillsburying. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

She blinked. "That is a good story, as a matter of fact. I suppose it couldn't hurt to tell you about it. Noah came to me last year, asking for advice regarding academic support."

"I used to tutor him in English," Kurt said. The pain in his heart was familiar by now, but talking about it brought it all back as though it had happened yesterday. "Mrs. Wright asked me to help him the summer before freshman year, and I read for him a little while in sophomore year, when he was in juvenile detention. After that, though, he didn't need my help anymore."

"Well, that's not quite true. Noah's exact accommodations are private, of course, but he began using a voice-to-text and text-to-speech application for tests and on his phone. It made a marvelous difference in his grades."

Kurt was startled into silence. When he nodded, Ms. Pillsbury went on.

"When I began working with him to address his study habits, he made a comment about bunburying. Perhaps you know what that is, after your summer productions?" She smiled when he nodded again. "A delightful, if dishonest concept. He used the word Pillsburying when he would miss classes during the school day to talk about academic supports."

"Well worth it, I would imagine," said Kurt, hoping his voice wasn't shaking too badly. "Noah never did care much for going to class."

"He made some significant improvements, Kurt. His test scores certainly reflected that." She looked apologetic. "That's… about all I can say on the subject of Noah Puckerman, though."

"No, I—I know. His father said he was learning structure." Kurt swallowed. "Do you… can you just tell me, did he—he didn't choose the military, did he?"

She looked legitimately surprised by that question. "Oh, goodness. Um, I think you have to have a high school degree to enlist, don't you?"

Kurt had no idea if that was true, but it was enough of an answer that he decided he would be satisfied. "Thank you, Ms. Pillsbury."

After school, Kurt received two texts in quick succession. The first was from Blaine. Your friend Asher can really sing!

The second was from Asher. Now I think I definitely need to do something about my roommate.

Kurt called Asher first from the car. "What happened?" he asked anxiously.

"I wish I could say it was nothing." Asher sounded shaky. "God, I hate this feeling. There's something particularly terrifying about watching transphobic people find out you're trans. It's visceral."

"I am so sorry." Kurt felt a flash of helpless anger. "They'll have to let you switch rooms now, right?"

"I'm on the wait list. Until something concrete happens, there's not anything I can do except watch him be disgusted by me."

"God. So much for Dalton's zero tolerance policy. Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help? At least your audition went well, right?"

"I think so." Asher sounded suspicious. "How did you know about the audition?"

"Ex-boyfriends talk. Blaine was impressed."

"That was fast. He just left a few minutes ago." He sighed. "Actually, he was there for some of the initial comments. Maybe I should call him and ask him to give a statement."

Kurt growled and changed lanes, heading toward the highway. "That's it. I'm coming down to Dalton."

"You don't have to do that!"

"The hell I don't! You're my friend and I'll be damned if I watch another one get into trouble because of some homophobic parasite. Transphobic. Whatever. We're going to take care of this right now."

Asher let out a laugh. "I've never had a friend like you, Kurt."

"I'm an original," he agreed.

You're a star, he heard Noah whisper in his head, and shivered. He shook it off, feeling irritated that even the thought of Noah's voice would affect him like that.

"Start packing your things," he added. "And I'll call Blaine, and we'll come to your room when I arrive."

After letting his father know where he was going, he called Blaine, who picked up his call right away.

"I need a favor," Kurt said. "For Asher. You know, the one who can sing."

"I know who he is." Blaine was clearly amused. "Kurt, he's adorable."

"His roommate doesn't seem to think so. Asher said you saw some of what happened."

"What happened? Do you mean the comments his roommate made about Asher's range? Totally irrelevant, by the way. The Warblers can accommodate both high and mid-range tenors at the moment."

"What exactly did his roommate say?"

"I missed some of it. It was right when I arrived. Something like 'No wonder you've got such a high singing voice.' I didn't really get it. Was it some comment on him being gay? Is he?"

"Something like that. Blaine, I'm on my way down to Dalton right now, and I'll be there in about an hour and fifteen minutes. Can you meet me in Asher's room, and—I'll explain the whole thing?"

"Sure, Kurt. That'll give me time to talk with the Council about his audition. I'll see you then."

Forty minutes later, Blaine called him back, fuming.

"I just had the most infuriating conversation with Sebastian. He's the new head of the Council this year. God, what a—" Blaine made a noise of outrage. "He said we can't invite Asher to sing with the Warblers, not because auditions are over, but because, and I quote, 'The charter clearly states that only males are permitted.' Without one hint of shame."

"Asher's male," Kurt said cautiously.

"Well, of course he is! Trans men are men. I know this is Ohio, but really, give me a break. I'll tell you, you are really not going to like this douchebag Sebastian."

He let out a relieved breath. "Clearly."

"Well, when I threatened to quit—"

"You did what?"

"I said if the Warblers were going to be as judgmental as that, I'd just as soon not sing with them. Well, the rest of the Council walked the denial back pretty quickly after that. He's in. And Sebastian better not even think about pulling that kind of crap again."

Kurt chuckled. "You know, I really love you."

"I—I love you too, Kurt." Blaine sounded taken aback. "I mean… just to be clear, you mean as a friend, right? After that conversation we had this summer—"

"I get to be impressed by you, even if we're not kissing, Blaine. Just like you get to be my snuggly but entirely platonic ex."

"Well, okay." He was clearly pleased. "I'll get some dinner, and meet you at Asher's room in a half hour."

Blaine was already there when Kurt arrived, laughing and joking with Asher, who was definitely blushing.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Kurt said, hugging him.

"It doesn't quite excuse your absence from the Warblers, Kurt," said Blaine, "but from what I hear, Asher's dancing will more than make up for it."

"I'll do my best," said Asher.

"So now that I have a better idea of exactly what was going on with that conversation I overheard with your roommate…" Blaine raised his eyebrows at Asher. "I hear you're looking to switch to a more suitable situation?"

Asher nodded. "It's in process, although they told me it might take a while to find someone else who needs a roommate."

"I'm glad to hear it." Blaine blinked. "Hey—why don't we request to be roommates?"

"That's a great idea!" Kurt exclaimed.

Asher looked aghast. "Wait, what?"

"Sure! This room is bigger than mine, in West Hall. I'm sure I could convince Thad to move over here."

"No, you can't—" Asher was shaking his head. "You really don't have to do that."

"What? It's done." Blaine held up his hands like he'd done a magic trick: ta-da!

Kurt looked at Asher, whose face was beet red, but finally he laughed helplessly and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay!" Blaine beamed. "Well, that was easy. I think dealing with Sebastian will be another matter. But I promise, I'm on your side, and I'm not the only one."

"Yeah," Asher said softly. He flashed a smile at Kurt. "I can tell."

While Blaine went to convince Thad, Kurt helped Asher pack up the rest of his impeccably neat room. He leaned over to murmur, "I know you never would guess it from his appearance, but Blaine is kind of a slob."

"I don't care how messy he is." Asher fastened his school satchel with a snap. "It's exactly how I felt last year when you walked out of that rehearsal of Twelve Angry Men, Kurt. I didn't know you, but I knew I could trust you."

Kurt put an arm around his shoulder. "Watch out. If you're not careful, he might decide to talk to your dad about sex education."

"What?"

"A story for another time."

The midwinter NYADA mixer was something of a wake-up call, but afterward in her car, Kurt reassured Rachel that she still had a chance to get in.

"Even if Brittany beats you for class president," he said, "you and Finn are technically the leaders of Glee club. You can put that on your application."

"They were so good, Kurt," she sighed. "It was worse this summer at Oberlin. I knew I was a big fish in a small pond, but I think I may have overestimated how big of a fish I really am. I mean… wasn't it like that for you, at Usdan?"

"It was kind of the opposite. I've never had a starring role before. After a season singing backup with the Warblers, it was refreshing to have a real actor tell me I'm star quality." He shook his head. "But there's so much more about theater I've come to love."

"More than performing?" She looked at him in confusion. "Like what?"

"Costuming, for one. I loved working on designs for Rocky Horror. And Asher and I spent hours on script analysis, taking it apart piece by piece. There's so much more I have to learn about the craft of acting… Bryce knew so much, and I know he's not the only one." He gave Rachel a secret smile. "I wrote a play, Rach, and I submitted it to NYADA's Young Playwright contest. Mrs. Wright said it was good."

"That's amazing!" She hugged him in delight. "I'm so proud of you, Kurt. West Side Story… it just makes me wish your boyfriend was still around to see what you've accomplished."

"He's not my boyfriend," Kurt said. "I'm pretty sure he never was. He's still my friend, though. I only wish I knew where he was."

"Well, you're doing wonderfully on your own." Rachel gave him a gracious nod. "I must say, playing Maria opposite Finn's Tony is an exercise in humility. That must have been something, performing Juliet—rather, Julian—with Puck as Romeo."

"I will never forget it," was all he could say.

He had long since washed Noah's Henley shirt. It now lived in the bottom dresser of his desk, along with the last book of the Ender series, the one Noah had gone on to finish on his own. But the night before his NYADA audition, Kurt took the shirt out and wore it to bed. He even allowed himself to indulge in a rare fantasy of Noah, highlighting all of the most memorable moments of their summer together, only some of which had been on stage. He cried through most of them, but that didn't make them any less erotic—or less satisfying.

"Ready?" Kurt asked Finn before the NYADA audition, as they waited for their turn.

"Do I feel ready? No." Finn gave him a lopsided smile. "But I think I am ready."

Kurt listened at the door of the auditorium as Finn did the Boatman monologue, followed by "Maria." After a brief silence, he heard, "Kurt Hummel."

Carmen Tibideaux, sitting in the audience with a clipboard, gave him a tired smile. "And what will you be performing today, Kurt?"

"Juliet's monologue from Romeo & Juliet, act IV, scene 3," he said promptly.

She put her glasses back on and regarded him thoughtfully. "Kurt Hummel? You weren't in a production of Romeo & Juliet at Usdan this summer, were you?"

He stood very still. "Directed by Bryce Coleman, yes."

"Hmm." She waved her hand. "Proceed."

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,
 That almost freezes up the heat of life:
 I'll call them back again to comfort me:
 Nurse! What should she do here?
 My dismal scene I needs must act alone…

The dramatic monologue went as well as it ever had, thanks to the many hours of practice he'd done over the summer. The pacing and gestures came almost automatically by this point.

"And your musical number?" She definitely sounded more interested than she had at the beginning of his audition.

He smiled. "'Not the Boy Next Door' from the Peter Allen bio-musical The Boy from Oz."

In his own mind, it was a nod to Chris's influence on him, the things Chris had taught him all year about auditions and preparation and the value of playing the role you were given—as well as the importance of learning to step outside and beyond it.

My box will always have more than four sides, he thought, as he gave Ms. Tibideaux a little bow at the end. I will never forget that again.

Rachel's audition, unfortunately, was a disaster. Finn waited anxiously on the other side of the hallway as Kurt cringed, listening through the door as she argued with Carmen Tibideaux. When at last she burst out of the door, Finn was there to hold her while she cried.

"It's not the only school," Kurt said, patting her back.

"It's the only one for me," she sobbed.

That evening, Kurt sent Chris a text. I wanted to thank you for encouraging me to audition for so many different schools.

NYADA didn't go so well, huh?

No, no, actually, I think it went very well. I just see the wisdom of being prepared for all possibilities. You really have helped me, more than anyone.

It's always good to get advice from a failure. We've had so many opportunities to try again.

Kurt winced. No callbacks today, hmm?

Tomorrow is another day. And, on the bright side, I am once again almost as good a dancer now as I was at age sixteen. Okay, perhaps that's the partially shaded side.

You will get better, Kurt replied. Physically, you still have a lot of recovery to do.

Chris didn't reply. Kurt wasn't sure if it was because Chris agreed with him or because he was too depressed to respond.

Rachel had been right about one thing, at least. Kurt was doing wonderfully without a boyfriend. It wasn't nearly as lonely as he'd expected, being on his own. When he watched all of the actors in West Side Story, performing the scenes he'd coached them on, using the choreography and sets and costumes he'd envisioned, it was almost as though he was part of all of them, together.

He realized after a while that the fact that Noah's voicemail never proclaimed itself to be full had to mean that somebody was checking it, at least occasionally. Some nights he would read him a poem, or perform a scene from a play he was reading, or sing him a song. He never quite got up the courage to do anything too sexual, though, just in case it was actually someone else listening.

Kurt was accepted into six of the schools for which he auditioned, including NYADA and Juilliard, but he was told it would take another several weeks before he would receive word about scholarships. Without additional funding, there was no way he would be able to afford to go to anything outside of Ohio. Rachel did not get into NYADA with her first audition, but in true Rachel fashion, she begged and pleaded and cajoled until she was given a second opportunity.

"It's a lot of waiting," Kurt complained to Asher one evening while visiting Dalton.

"You just fill the time with other things while you wait," Asher said.

"Easy for you to say, Mr. I-Got-Into-All-The-Schools-I-Applied-For." Kurt tapped the color-coded chart on the wall above Asher's desk and made a face. "And I won't mention Blaine's Anderson family funded education. He just gets to point and say that one."

"Yeah, I think it's probably best not to bring that up." Asher gazed at Blaine's significantly messier side of their room. "Um… before he gets back from boxing, I wanted to ask you something."

"Is it about the Warblers' choice to sing ELO's 'Mr. Blue Sky' for sectionals? Because I think that's an inspired decision."

"No, no, it's not that."

There was a long pause, long enough that Kurt sat up straight and faced him across the room.

"What is it?"

Asher inhaled, then laughed. "I don't quite know how to say this, but… things are happening. With me and Blaine."

Kurt managed to close his mouth. "You mean… things."

"I mean emotionally. We're not doing anything about it. Yet." He cast an appeal at Kurt. "I wanted to ask you how you felt about it first."

"Are you sure? I mean—how do you know? Are you sure you're not misunderstanding?"

"I asked myself the same thing for weeks." Asher knitted his hands together, his face flushed. "He finally had to tell me point blank how he felt about me, and even then I spent several days trying to talk him out of it."

Kurt gestured emphatically, as Asher laughed. "Well? How does he feel about you?"

"He—he says he likes me. A lot. And we agreed we both find one another attractive. Which is not to say—I mean, it might still not work out."

"And you're just… what, waiting for my blessing?"

He held out his hands. "We didn't want it to be weird for you."

Kurt grabbed them. "So what about how it is for me? This is for you!" He hugged Asher, and Asher hugged him back. It was almost painfully sweet how careful he was being. "I'm just shocked you got him to wait for anything. Blaine's not really one to hold back."

"I have noticed that," Asher agreed. "I think he might be trying extra hard to be patient, for me."

"Well, I think you get to give him all the green lights you feel comfortable giving. And be safe." Kurt grinned as Asher covered his face. "Wow, this is potentially ideal. The two of you are roommates, after all."

Asher let out a heavy sigh. "I have noticed that, too. That was one of the first things we talked about, actually: Blaine's very earnest agreement not to be embarrassed if we caught one another masturbating."

"He didn't." Kurt groaned into his hands as Asher nodded. "That really does sound like something he would say. So… would you rather I go now, so the two of you can talk when he gets back?"

"That might be best." Asher's face was alight with anticipation. "He does tend to be a little worked up after boxing."

Kurt hugged him again before slipping into the hallway and down the back staircase to the parking lot. He was relieved not to run into Blaine. But when he got to the Navigator and climbed into the front seat, he found himself surprisingly close to tears.

Why would something that makes me happy also make me feel so sad? he asked Chris.

Because you've been avoiding feeling anything for a long time, Chris responded, and now all the feelings are mixed up.

He locked all the doors and huddled into the cradle of the seat, letting himself cry, thankful once again for the tinted windows.

Why would I be avoiding feelings? he asked, once he'd wiped his eyes.

Honey, you know the answer to that.

He sniffed. I thought I was moving on.

Maybe in some ways. Why aren't you dating anybody?

Why aren't you? he asked, almost automatically. Then he sat staring at the phone, aghast, as he realized what Chris's answer must be.

"Oh my god," he whispered.

Chris, he started to type, but then he deleted it. There were too many things he needed to ask, and he didn't want to ask any of them over text.

I have a surprise for you, Chris told him, as Kurt sat there with his realization. You're going to like it. I want to tell you before you go find Puck, so you can tell him about it, too. It's kind of a lot of information, though, so let me know when you've got something to write on.

What is this about? Kurt typed slowly.

It's about Bryce. And about Puck's dad, and about me. And about Usdan.

They were all things that were important to him, but at the moment, all he could think about was before you go find Puck.

Where is Puck? he had to ask.

I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I have some guesses. And I bet, if you tell Puck's mom what I'm about to tell you, she'll tell you where Puck is.

I'm on my way home from Dalton, Kurt said, starting the car. I'll call you when I get home. And you get to be the first to hear that Blaine and Asher are dating.

I totally saw that coming weeks ago, Chris replied. Good for them.

It was an especially long drive home. Kurt took Asher's advice and filled the time with something else, namely the soundtrack to the Broadway revival of Anything Goes.

The more I travel across the gravel
 The more I sail the sea
 The more I feel convinced to the fact
 New York's the town for me

Its crazy skyline is right in my line
 And when I'm far away
 I'm able to bear it for several hours
 Then I break down and say:

Take me back to Manhattan
 Take me back to New York
 I'm just longing to see once more
 My little home on the hundredth floor…

It felt like something he could hold in his sights, something that really was moving on, that had nothing to do with Noah or any of the myriad things Noah had come to mean to him. New York was somewhere else, and the best way to move on was to move away, no matter where Noah ended up.

But as he drove, something occurred to him. He paused the music, then dialed the number for the Dayton Opera House. Sure enough, the box office was still open.

"How can I help you?" asked the receptionist.

"I know auditions for Amadeus were last month," he said. "When is the performance?"

"December first through the fourth," she replied, "with two performances on Saturday and a Sunday matinee."

"Great," he said casually. "And can you remind me who's playing Wolfgang?"

"We're just printing up the posters now, so it hasn't been formally announced, but it's Taylor Oppel."

"Wonderful." Kurt felt the bitter disappointment rise, but then something prompted him to add, "And what about Salieri?"

"That would be Noah Puckerman."

His heart stopped in his chest. "Thank you," he managed, and hung up, gripping the steering wheel. It was all he could do not to turn the car west and drive to Dayton right then and there, but he maintained his course northwest on highway 33 toward home.

You really thought you were moving on? he thought, and shook his head in disgust. God. You really are deluding yourself.

Upon arriving home, Kurt parked the car, came inside, kissed his dad, said "I'll be in my room," and escaped before anyone could say anything to him. He got a notebook and a pen from his desk. Then he took a deep breath and called Chris.

"Okay," he said. "I'm ready. Tell me everything."