Kurt Hummel had nothing left to lose. Audition after audition and the furthest he'd ever gotten was part of a chorus on an Off-Off-Broadway show. Pathetic. Meanwhile, his former kind of best friend Rachel Berry had moved away from New York to try to make it in Los Angeles. He hadn't seen Mercedes in a year, though they occasionally Skyped. His dad and Carole were still in Ohio and Finn, from his understanding, had had another change of heart and had followed Rachel to L.A. to be together. So basically, he was alone in New York City with nothing but a busted dream, an apartment that he could barely afford rent for, and a broken heart. But he was used to all that. He'd been living like that for three years.
Walking home from his job as a waiter at Alma 33, he sighed. How had he allowed himself to resort to waiting other people? Tips were so low, but working conditions were alright. Just the people that he served were so annoying, and it was not in his nature to be nice to people who didn't treat him kindly. That had been knocked out of him in high school. He had briefly worked at The Tea Room, but … but working there had proved too painful. Serving people coffee … it brought back memories that he didn't want around. And it certainly didn't help every time someone ordered a medium drip. Which happened at least twice a day. So he quit. He tried to rid himself of anything in his life that reminded him of … of him. What he couldn't bear to rid himself of he hid in places around the apartment that he was unlikely ever to look. It was better that way.
Walking into his shabby apartment building he grimaced. He remembered for the millionth time that this was not what New York was supposed to be. He climbed four flights of stairs (the elevator was broken again) to his apartment … if you could call it that. It was literally two rooms; a bathroom and everything else. And not in a fashionable way. In a small and cramped way. It saddened him. This wasn't supposed to happen.
What went wrong, he wondered. What was his first mistake? Looking back, his first mistake may have been moving out here with Rachel and … him. Rachel was just too … competitive, too naïve, too blinded by her own ambition, and too self-absorbed. And then … no. He would not let his mind go there.
He dragged his feet to the corner of the room where his bed was patiently waiting. The thing that he loved most in this city. He fell face-first into the cushy mattress. He was unbelievably grateful that he got off work early. He had gotten an invitation for David's wedding to some girl he didn't know named Karen and he fully intended to go. He hadn't seen David since … well he hadn't seen David in three years. He was looking forward to seeing him again. He was just worried about whoever else may be there. And even if … he wasn't there (which, no matter what he told himself, was unlikely), there were bound to be questions. But his plan for the night was to avoid the subject, and, if at all possible, avoid him. He would leave as early as he could and stay as far away from the biggest reminders of his past as possible. Maybe it was a bad idea to go … but he had already RSVP'd and he really did want to see David and meet his new wife, despite the likely consequences.
After a half-hour much needed emotionally rebalancing snooze, he pulled himself out of bed and figured that he had better start getting ready. He hadn't rented a tux, but he was sure that he had an old one somewhere. It would just take a little digging around to find it. He rummaged through several drawers before he finally found it. It was a little dusty, but other than that, it was fine. He gently lifted it out of the drawer and was about to walk away when he saw something that made his blood feel like ice in his veins.
A photo of him with cut out letters underneath it spelling out a single world.
Courage.
Seven letters and a picture was all it took to send Kurt into a montage of memories, good and bad, memories that he had just spent three years trying to block out. One word and a photograph and everything came flooding back, hitting him like a wave of unwanted emotions. Kurt stood frozen to the spot as the wave, nay, ocean hit him. Suddenly, as though possessed, he took one step closer to pick up the photo, not noticing the dusty old tuxedo fall to the ground. Holding it almost as if it were a delicate snowflake about to melt away forever he walked back over to his bed and sat down. The face was so familiar, so warm, so beautiful. The word was so comforting, so reminiscent, so strong. He found his willpower melting as he stared into the hazel eyes that were not brought to justice by the ink on paper. And then, without warning, the tears started to fall and, no matter how he tried, he could not stop them. Something went wrong in their relationship, but for the life of him he could not remember what it was. All he wanted was to see him again, to hold him again, to feel loved by him again. The salty drops of water steadily flowed from his glass eyes, now staining the pillow that he was holding to his face in an attempt to create a dam. Before he knew it he could not hold it in. He screamed. He screamed and shouted and cursed. Then finally, as he started to calm down, he whispered.
"Where did my love go?"
Meanwhile, not too far away, Blaine woke up.