Chapter 1

The Newcomer in Room #603

oOo

"Alas, by the time Fate caught up with my life, Chance had it all planned." –Robert Brault

oOo

Friday, 10 August 2024

The sun in the cloudless afternoon sky was sweltering, reflecting dazzlingly off of the colossal New York City skyscrapers. The heat wave that year was one for the record books and it certainly wasn't doing any favors for one Kurt Hummel. Kurt never imagined he would yearn for winter to come that year, in toe with the dirty slush that accumulated in the gutters, below freezing temperatures, as well as his knee-length sweaters that he still had stashed away on the uppermost shelf in his closet. That day, he opted for more functional, rather than fashionable, attire: a pair of frayed and tattered Capri pants, ratty, white slip-on Vans, and his Marc Jacobs, dip-dyed striped shirt. He felt as though he better resembled a rather green college student instead of an associate editor of the world's most influential fashion magazine, but despite his casual attire, the weather was still too hot for the type of exertion his body had to endure. He tried not to notice the bead of sweat that started to slide down the back of his neck and under his collar as he wavered on the spot, having picked up the cumbersome cardboard box that he managed to scoot and kick with his foot towards the edge of the rental moving truck.

After staggering towards the door to the apartment, Kurt let out a disgruntled moan as he attempted to stretch his hand over the enormous box topped with both the keys to the truck and the keys to his apartment on a separate ring. He wiggled his fingers futilely, hoping that at least one of the digits would come in contact with the metal handle of the door leading to the lobby entrance of his new apartment building, but no such luck. Instead, he merely teetered dangerously on the one foot he was standing on as his other leg bent upwards, supporting the weight of the box on his thigh and under his chin.

"Come on," Kurt muttered through gritted teeth, putting his foot back down on the concrete after adjusting his grip. Perhaps Rachel had been right when she said to hire movers. She even offered to send Finn down to help him with his things. But no, he said… He could handle it. After all, his new furniture had been delivered a few days earlier and now he just had to worry about his personal belongings.

Just as Kurt was about to give up and set the box down to open the door, he heard a voice and suddenly the door was opening on its own accord. He quickly backed away from the path of the door so he wouldn't get hit and he looked around in confusion.

"Judging by fact that you didn't notice the automatic door opener, I take it you're just moving in."

Kurt turned his head towards the pleasantly amused voice as he blew away the strands of hair that were falling into his eyes since having deflated from its hairstyle from the heat. Next to the pair of doors stood a women who couldn't have been that older than him—thirty-six, at the most.

Being as gay as a two dollar bill didn't keep him from appreciating how stunning she was, either, with her glowing, olive skin and gold-flecked, hazel eyes. Mahogany locks framed her thin, angular face and her sun-kissed bangs flew away from her shapely eyebrows.

"Here I thought it was the enormous box that gave me away," Kurt joked with a good-natured chuckle as he moved, gratefully, into the air-conditioned lobby. He moved aside once he made it through the threshold. As she followed him in he added, "Or maybe the moving truck."

"Yeah, that would be it." She laughed along with him, her long but demure nose scrunching up before her mouth took the form of a circle and her eyes filled with concern. Their jovial, unbridled banter made it seem like they were old acquaintances.

"Do you need help with that?" She motioned with her hand towards the box. "It looks really heavy."

Kurt shook his head as he grimaced from the ache in his arms, but politely declined her offer.

"That's really kind of you, but I don't think you're dressed for moving boxes. I really appreciate it, though." Kurt glanced down at her long, cream-colored dress pants, flowy, floral shirt, and her shiny gold pumps. 'Manolo Blahniks,' Kurt noted, practically drooling over the shoes. 'Very nice.'

She would have been a head and a half shorter than Kurt if it wasn't for the five inches of heel added to her height. He couldn't imagine how much easier it would be on him had she helped him with the box based on her sheer size alone, heels or not. She was quite petite and he was having trouble holding it himself.

"But I would be incredibly grateful if you could get the elevator for me," he propositioned as they strode towards the elevator, her heels clicking smartly on the geometric tiled floor.

"Of course," the woman said, pressing the up button between the two elevators. She looked at Kurt's undoubtedly disheveled complexion, but sympathetically instead of judgmentally. She let out another laugh as she took a step back from the shiny, silver doors.

"I um… Actually wasn't referring to me, though," she spoke up with a wrinkle of her nose. "I was going to say I could probably drag my cousin down to help you with your stuff. He's a big guy. Actually," she tapped her chin contemplatively. "I bet he would jump at the chance to help you." The corners of her thin lips twitched up. Kurt wasn't sure what else to make of her comment other than it must have an inside joke between her and this cousin of hers.

"That's really sweet of you, but I'm sure I can manage." He shifted the box towards his left hip, allowing his right arm to rest. "So I take it you're just visiting?" Kurt asked, and the elevator chimed as the doors slid open.

"Yes. I live on the edge of town. I'm just here to see my cousin. He's on the seventh floor." For some reason she didn't press the number 7, but asked, "What floor do you need?"

"Six, please," Kurt breathed thankfully, and she pressed the button.

As the elevator lurched to life, Kurt asked, attempting to make light conversation, "Have you and your cousin lived here long?"

"Oh, yes," the woman began to say. "Well… I lived in New York for as long as I can remember. But my cousin, though… He moved here and stayed with my family when he was about seventeen… eighteen…" She grimaced slightly. "School problems, y'know?"

"Ah," Kurt emitted, turning to stare back at his reflection over the box, and with a sigh he softly added, "If only we all were that lucky." His companion nodded sadly in understanding as he recalled his high school years, wishing he could have had a means to escape. He could be grateful, at least, for the sanctuary that the Glee Club provided and how his time at McKinley seemed a bit brighter towards the end. He could only hope the same could be said about his companion's cousin as well.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened once more. Just as Kurt was about to thank her for her help, she stepped out with him.

"I can help you into your apartment, if you'd like? It's gotta be easier than you having to struggle with the box and your keys."

"You really don't have to," Kurt said apologetically, feeling guilty despite the fact that she was the one to offer her help. "I don't want to keep you."

"It's fine," she said assuredly, waving him off as they began to set off down the long hallway. She had a strange way at making Kurt feel better, making him feel relaxed and welcome, despite the fact that she wasn't a tenant of the building herself, and he had to wonder if this was a trait she used on a daily basis, such as in her career. "I'm sure he won't mind. Actually…" Whatever she wanted to say made her shake her head, reconsidering it. "No, never mind." Kurt looked at her curiously as they stopped in front of his door.

"What is it?"

The woman sighed. "No, no way. It sounds way too forward."

"Please," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "This is New York. If it doesn't involve a slap on the ass in a crowded subway then I think we can rule out 'forward'."

"Okay," she sighed, as though knowing she would regret what she was about to say. "I was going to ask if you were seeing anybody."

"Um…" Kurt started, resisting the urge to laugh. He bit his lip instead. "I'm really flattered, and you're incredibly nice and gorgeous, but I'm interested in men."

"Oh… Oh, God, no…" she laughed, covering her mouth as she blushed. "Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned being 'forward' as I didn't mean for me, per se." She covered her face in her hands, flustered.

"I know you're gay… I mean… Wow, I really shouldn't have assumed though, but…" she sobered up, as she waved her left hand, showing off the ring on her finger.

"I'm married," she said. "I was actually referring to my cousin. He's um… Well. He's seeing somebody, but I'm sure had he met you months ago he would have ditched his asshole of a boyfriend in a heartbeat." Kurt suddenly realized what she meant and he felt his cheeks heat up. Never had anyone tried to set him up before and by a stranger no less.

"I'm always trying to set him up with someone new, since he has a terrible penchant for choosing guys who are completely wrong for him. You on the other hand… Somehow you manage to embody his "type" sans the stick up the ass. I can't really explain it. Something just tells me you two would really hit it off." When she noticed that they had stood outside Kurt's apartment for an extended period, she pointed at the keys on top of the box.

"Are these your keys?"

Kurt looked at her a bit shell-shocked and dazed after her tirade. Shaking his head out of his reverie, he nodded, "The biggest one is to the apartment, and um…" He chortled as he half smiled and frowned, contemplating the compliment that was hidden in her little speech. "That's very… Generous of you?" he said, referring more to her proposal rather than to her wanting to open the door for him.

She laughed as she unlocked Kurt's door and pushed it open. When he entered the large living room area, he set the box down on the coffee table before turning to look at the woman standing in the foyer.

"I honestly don't think I'll be doing any dating or interfering in other people's relationships for a long time. I actually just got out of a really long relationship and don't think I'm ready for any long—or even short term—commitments."

"Oh," a look of concern transposed her delicate features. "I'm really sorry. Do you mind me asking how long?"

Kurt sighed, smiling sadly. Her consideration was genuinely touching.

"December would have been eight years—got married right after he finished college. It was silly to say the least. I mean… We loved each other dearly through our entire marriage, but... It was all so very... Tame." He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at his pristine, white carpet.

"And I know what you're thinking, that once the "honeymoon" phase…" he uncrossed his arms to make air quotes before opening the box. It contained every issue of Vogue that he had worked on. "…dies down and real life starts to set in, that's what love and marriage is about, but…" he laughed cynically, "We never even had a honeymoon phase, to tell you the truth. My honeymoon phase involved nipping at his heels until he finally noticed me. So here we are, thirty years old and as frigid as a couple in their eighties and we knew…" His voice waved slightly as he drew in a breath, but he smiled all the same. "We could tell we were only perpetuating our unhappiness by holding each other back from finding true…" he trailed off, looking up as if he had forgotten where he was. "I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear all this. I don't even know your name."

"It's fine. It probably feels good to get it off of your chest. My name's Evelyn, by the way." She held out her hand and Kurt gripped it briefly in his. She smiled sympathetically. "You're a nice guy." She shrugged. "It was worth a shot. Anyways, I better get going."

"Oh, right. Thank you so much again for helping me, Evelyn. I appreciate it," Kurt said, walking to the door. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."

"I'd like to think so. You take care," she waved slightly before shutting the door behind her.

The smile on Kurt's face lingered even after Evelyn was gone. Kurt was happy to have met such a kind and pleasant women and couldn't help but wonder whether her cousin would be the same way.

Kurt sat down on the arm of the white leather couch. Maybe he should have asked Evelyn her cousin's apartment number. He was new in the large building, after all. It would have been nice to stop by and introduce himself, at least. He did move from Chelsea to the apartment situated right alongside the Hudson River. It was a completely new neighborhood, to him, and he could always go for some recommendations for restaurants and markets. What harm would asking Evelyn for her cousin's apartment number do?

Kurt stood up from the couch and strode to the door.

"Evelyn, I…" Kurt called as he poked his head out of the door, hoping he could still catch her, but she was already gone. With hint of a regretful smile lingering upon his lips, Kurt slipped out into the hall, keys in hand, to return back downstairs to move the rest of the boxes into his new apartment with the hope that nobody thought to steal any of his belongings out of the back of the moving truck.

oOo

Inside apartment #703, the sound of the curt knock upon the door floated all the way past the foyer and into the en suite bathroom where Dave Karofsky stood in front of the mirror. He stayed where he was, brushing his teeth slowly as the knocking resumed and at a rapid, if not impatient, pace.

He huffed before spitting the minty foam into the sink, and craned his neck out of the open bathroom door.

"S'open!" he called as he picked up a disposable cup. He turned on the water, rinsing off the brush and the toothpaste in the sink before filling the cup with water. As he took a sip to swish, he heard the door open.

"We're going to be late!" A sing-song voice called, needing no introduction. Dave snorted as he spit the water out, and he heard the door close. After wiping his face off on the hand towel, he strode out of the bathroom, through his bedroom, and into the living room.

"Whose fault is that?" Dave intoned, fixing his lapels. "How do I look?"

"Handsome as ever, Davey." Evelyn Karofsky-O'Brien teased as her cousin held out his arms to his side so that she could inspect his grey suit and his white dress shirt with the first few buttons popped open. He figured that he might as well continue to wear his expensive suits despite quitting his job. There weren't many other places he could wear them besides lunch with Evelyn, or else dinner parties with his boyfriend, and he'd hate for them to go to waste. "Though you do know it's about one-hundred degrees out there?"

"Ninety-two," Dave said simply as he grabbed his wallet and keys off of the counter. "I checked the news. Besides, it's a special occasion."

"Really?" Evelyn asked, sounding genuinely surprised as though she might have forgotten a birthday or an anniversary of some sort. "And what might that be?"

"The fact that I hardly get to see you anymore."

"Mm," Evelyn hummed as she turned up her nose slightly. "Well, maybe if you-know-who didn't make it so difficult. He's not here, is he?" She narrowed her eyes as she craned her neck as if looking for someone to emerge from the bedroom.

"No, he's not. Left about half an hour ago," Dave said, as he placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the apartment. When they were out in the hall, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot. The effect, which was meant to be stern, was lost when the sole of her foot was muted upon the plush carpet, which was unlike that of the lobby floor downstairs.

"Now I wonder why that could be?"

"Ev… Come on," Dave said weakly as he locked the door behind him. "Can we just have one afternoon together where we don't discuss why Travis is somehow worse than my last ten boyfriends," he paused before adding with emphasis, "Who you also didn't like!"

"I know he doesn't like me, I just haven't figured out why yet."

"I don't know… Maybe it's because you let slip in conversation that you weren't a fan of Frank Lloyd Wright's designs," he started on a tirade as they made their way towards the elevator, "You know how he is when it comes to architecture. It's his life."

"I did not say that," Evelyn pointed out, giving him a dangerous look as she pointed a finger. "I said that I wasn't a fan of his utilization of low-pitched roofs."

"Fine. Then maybe it's because you try to set me up on dates with the younger male nurses at the hospital."

"And God knows I try," she said, softening up a bit, as if trying a different approach to get through to Dave. She patted his arm. "I miss this. Hanging out with you like when we were teenagers."

"Me too, Ev," Dave said, smiling fondly as he pressed the down button once they made it to the elevator. Dave was quiet for a handful of seconds before speaking up.

"I'm pretty sure he was annoyed that I locked myself up in the office all day," he mentioned quietly as the doors eventually dinged open. Evelyn glanced at the back of his head in understanding as he stepped into the little box. He held the side so it didn't close on her as she stepped in.

"How's the writing going?" she asked, already knowing what he was referring to. Her eyes were wide and curious as she judged his reaction.

"You mean my futile attempts at brainstorming as I stare at a blank page?" Dave turned his head, smiling sardonically before answering his own question. "Superb."

"You'll get there, David. It just takes time. It's only been a week since you left The Times. And switching from sports articles to novels?" She shook her head. "That can't be easy."

"I'm a writer, though," Dave groaned, exasperated. "That would be like you going on vacation and not remembering how to operate on a person when you go back to work. I studied Literature and Creative Writing. It can't be that difficult." He tilted his head back, letting it thonk against the metal confines of the elevator. "I just need to find a topic—something that I'm really passionate about—and then it'll be smooth sailing from there."

As the elevator doors opened, Evelyn attempted to lighten the topic as she felt Dave's frustration emanating from him.

"So, there's a new guy moving in," Evelyn said, nonchalantly changing the subject as she inspected her nails.

"Really? You meet him?"

"Mmhm," she hummed in affirmation, now smoothing down her top. "He's cute."

"Here we go," Dave groaned.

"And available," she added and Dave could practically hear the plea in her voice.

"Well, how do you know he's...? Oh God..." Dave groaned, rolling his head. "You can't just go around asking everybody their sexual orientation, Ev.

"I didn't," she said a little too defensively as she blushed. "He told me. He just got out of a long relationship though, poor thing."

"That's too bad. So I guess he said he wasn't ready to get back on that dating horse, then. Pity," Dave tutted as he shook his head with mock sadness.

"Could you at least explain to me exactly what it is you and Trav-ass have in common?"

Dave was silent for a moment, mulling over the request as he rolled up his sleeves, getting ready to brace himself for the furnace that was outside.

"We both enjoy getting off." He nodded with a frown, as though agreeing with his own answer.

"I didn't need to hear that. Jesus, you're such a male," she said with a huff as she strode in front of him to pull open the door. She heard Dave chuckling to himself behind her as she walked out of the lobby and into the searing heat. It was like a hot blow dryer turned itself on right in front of their faces.

"So, half of his stuff is at your apartment..." she mused, digging her sunglasses out of her purse. "Can we expect a happy announcement soon?"

"Don't count on it," Dave muttered sternly, and Evelyn didn't say anything else about the matter.

"Oh," she stopped short and Dave nearly ran into her. "He's inside the moving truck, come on. You should go talk to him. Introduce yourself to him, at least."

Dave looked toward the truck as he tilted his head, squinting from the light as he attempted to make out the shape of the person in the back of the truck. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head in fascination as he saw the outline of a person, facing away from him and bending over, sifting through a box. He couldn't help but admire the view of tight jean capris stretching over the man's attractive backside.

"Ev, we're gonna be late for our reservations," Dave said, shaking his head to pull himself out of his daze. Dave glanced at his watch before raising his hand and hailing a cab before Evelyn could say anything else on the matter. "I'm sure there will be other opportunities. He is moving in, after all. What did you say his name was?" Dave asked patiently, holding the door open for Evelyn, who frowned sadly, at the man in the truck.

"I didn't," she said despondently as she climbed into the back of the cab. "I forgot to ask him."

"Ah."

Dave climbed in after her. He almost wished she had gotten the name of the unnamed tenant, just for curiosity's sake. After he shut the door, he gave the name of the restaurant to the cabbie and they drove off just as Kurt Hummel hopped down out of the back of the truck with yet another box, and went back into the lobby once more and without the struggle, having pressed the automatic door opener with his knowledge gained from the help of his new friend.