Kurt wakes up a minute before the alarm goes off on Thursday morning. He stretches out an arm and turns the alarm off before it rings. He always prefers waking up this way, rather than being ripped from sleep by the blaring combinations of beeps and static-filled talk radio that ensure that he doesn't sleep through his first class.
Kurt lies in bed another minute, staring up at the ceiling and going through a mental checklist of what he needs to do today between getting home from NYADA and heading off to the airport. He is feeling that unique mixture of excitement, anxiety and joy that comes with a break from college and travel home. Deciding that he really needs to get up to get out the door on time, he stretches languidly and hops out of the bed.
It isn't until he is showered, moisturized, dressed and finished with breakfast that the eeriness starts to seep in. He's on his way back to the bathroom to brush his teeth when it hits him. He stops in his tracks and spins in a slow circle around the apartment, trying to pinpoint what it is exactly that is causing everything to feel so wrong.
At first glance, nothing seems out of place. The apartment is spotless. That isn't out of the ordinary. Kurt and Rachel both like to come home to a clean apartment, so they always put some extra effort into a final cleaning spree before going on a trip. Kurt remembers quite clearly helping Rachel with some cleaning on Wednesday afternoon before she left for the airport. He also has some vague memories of continuing the cleaning on his own later in the evening. He thinks for a moment, straining to remember anything else about Wednesday afternoon and evening. His mind is a blank.
Cold spikes of fear flare up from his stomach and spread up his spine. His heart beats rapidly in his chest and his breathing comes fast and shallow. Nothing good has come lately of Kurt's new tendency to have blank spots in his memory.
Struck with panic over what new horrors he might have gotten himself into last night, Kurt whips his head back and forth, and spins around. He stares at each wall and piece of furniture in turn, searching for clues. Everything is in its place and everything is clean, but something just feels wrong.
Kurt sucks in a breath when he sees the time. He is going to have to continue the search for clues later. He sprints to the bathroom to brush his teeth, then hurriedly throws his things in his bag. As he reaches the door, something catches his attention from the corner of his eye. The framed Wicked poster on the wall next to the door is off-center. He straightens it, then turns again to survey the apartment as a whole.
Kurt shivers. He can't shake the feeling that something is very wrong and it is driving him crazy that he can't figure it out. He is reminded of a Twilight Zone episode he watched a few weeks ago. In it, a couple falls through a loophole of time and discovers that there is a construction crew in another dimension that tears down and rebuilds our world from scratch every minute of the day.
To explain his job, the construction crew leader provides the example that when you are tearing apart your house, frantically looking for your wallet and suddenly see it appear right in front of you, it means the construction crew in another world forgot to put the wallet in the room during the minute you needed it. The crew leader then makes sure the crew corrects the problem in the next minute they construct, so the wallet appears out of nowhere for you to find. Once back in their own dimension, the couple notices a blue wrench left on a phone booth, evidence of the construction crew and their occasional mistakes.
Kurt feels like he is looking not at his apartment, but a copy some construction crew from another dimension created. It's as if someone who doesn't really know where everything is supposed to go had picked up every knick-knack, cleaned it thoroughly, and replaced it carefully, but slightly askew.
With a sinking feeling, Kurt realizes he is late. As he opens the door, he realizes he is glad to have an excuse to leave the increasingly disturbing apartment. As he scurries down the stairs, he shakes his head a bit, then laughs inwardly at himself for thinking he could force the fear out of his brain by shaking his head like an etch-a-sketch. He tells himself he needs to focus on his classes instead of his fear. He can worry about the apartment – and what clues it might hold to what actually happened last night – when he gets back from school.
Classes provide exactly the distraction Kurt is hoping for. His first class is music theory, which is close enough to math that it takes all of his focus to follow the professor's lecture and take passable notes. He slips in as quietly as he can through the rear door to the classroom, as he is indeed a few minutes late and class has already started. Kurt is actually thankful because missing the first ten minutes of the lecture means he has to pay even closer attention to understand the rest of the lesson. There simply isn't any room in his brain to obsess about the apartment.
He gets a quick bathroom and water bottle refill break before the next class. He follows his new routine of walking in the opposite direction of the next class to a more out-of-the-way bathroom which allows him to avoid running into Adam and Brody, who both seem to have a morning break at the same time as Kurt on most days.
The next class is vocal performance. Even though Kurt still finds Ms. Tibideaux intimidating, vocal performance is by far his favorite class. Today, they practice vocal exercises and proper breathing techniques in unison. Kurt also is one of four students performing a solo for critique. As always, Kurt loses himself in the emotion of the song. When he finishes the last, soaring note, he immediately cringes in anticipation of Ms. Tibideaux's usual harsh criticism. However, she surprises him by praising his technical improvement and excellent portrayal of the emotions behind the song.
Kurt finds both singing and receiving praise to be cathartic. Smiling, he heads toward the cafeteria for his lunch break. He is in the process of adding grilled chicken to the spinach and mixed green salad he is creating at the salad bar, when he senses someone standing very close behind him. He freezes for a moment, then slowly turns. Standing so close that Kurt can feel his breath on his face is Sean, a stunning ebony-skinned dance major who sometimes serves as a teaching student in Kurt's beginning dance class.
Kurt startles and takes a large step back, tray wobbling slightly in his hands. Sean raises an eyebrow, grins, and says in a deep and intimate voice, "Hey there, Kurt. I'm surprised to see you today."
"Um, hi Sean," Kurt says slowly. He's very confused that Sean is talking to him because they have barely exchanged two words all year. He's also confused by both Sean's words and his knowing tone. "What are you talking about?"
Sean's grin stretches even wider across his face. "Oh, Kurt my man," he laughs, "I always knew you da bomb!"
With that, Sean turns and walks away, shaking his head and chuckling quietly. The cold fear, which Kurt had forgotten, is back. Kurt stares at the salad bar for a moment, using all of his resolve to shove the fear back into a manageable corner of his mind.
He scans the room and spots a table of his friends from acting class. Katie looks up and their eyes meet. She smiles and waves him over to join the trio already at the table and deep in smiling conversation. Soon he is lost in the hilarity as they try to outdo each other with stories of epic acting fails and stagehand foibles from their various high school productions. Kurt has no class immediately after lunch, so he stays at the table as two friends leave and three more arrive. This new group has some truly outrageous stories that are told with the utmost dramatic effect.
Acting class is next. There are no student performances today. Usually that means that Kurt will find the class boring. But this time Kurt is content to spend the class practicing diction and projection. It's repetitive, but it keeps his mind off of other thoughts that he would really rather avoid.
At his next break, Kurt heads to the dance studio for some stretching. There is no class during this period, so it is a good time to stretch or practice pirouettes. It also helps him stay awake through his final class of the day, playwriting. The class sounded exciting when he signed up for it at the beginning of the semester, but they have done a lot more reading and analysis of various experts' tomes on the art of playwriting than actual writing of plays.
Kurt ducks behind the changing screens in the dance studio and quickly changes into looser fitting clothing. As he stretches, he hears the previously empty studio fill up as other students lay claim to various corners of the room to stretch and practice. Kurt places his calf on the bar and stretches toward it with his upper body. Just as his fingers lace together behind the arch of his foot and his nose touches his knee, Kurt stiffens at the brush of someone else's fingers across his thigh.
Kurt lifts his head and chest slowly, leaving his leg on the bar. The hand on his leg belongs to Sean. Next to Sean is another dancer – Kurt doesn't know his name, but remembers seeing him in the studio before. On the other side of the bar, reaching out to stroke Kurt's calf, is yet another dancer. Kurt thinks his name is Nathan. Or maybe it's Ethan. Kurt isn't really sure. More importantly, he has no idea why these three guys he barely knows are suddenly crowding him and pawing at him.
Kurt doesn't move or try to push them away. He's frozen with uncertainty and that nagging fear that has been with him all day. The three guys seem to be friends and they all are obviously dance majors, with their powerful, sculpted thighs and arms. The guys are sharing knowing looks. Something about this reminds Kurt of the moment before being tossed into a dumpster or hit with several slushies from different angles. Kurt briefly meets Sean's gaze, then locks eyes with Nathan/Ethan, then the nameless guy.
Nathan/Ethan, still rubbing Kurt's calf slowly, is the first to speak. The words he says are mundane, "So, Kurt, how are classes going today?" What startles Kurt is the tone. It's said in a low, seductive voice that might have matched better with a pick-up line at a bar.
"Yeah, Kurt," adds the nameless guy, placing his hand possessively on Kurt's lower back. In an equally seductive voice, he continues, "I hope your classes were satisfying enough for you."
Sean, who is now crouching down and resting his cheek on Kurt's thigh, looks up Kurt's body at his face and adds in a sultry drawl, "With your long lunch hour and time for stretching in the dance studio, it makes me wonder if you have enough classes to satisfy you." The three guys look at each other and chuckle.
Dread is creeping down Kurt's spine. He finally straightens up and pulls his leg back toward his body, jostling nameless guy's hand and Sean's cheek off of him. He sidesteps Nathan/Ethan's hand at his back. Coldly, he enunciates, "I have no idea what any of you are talking about."
Sean laughs, slaps his own thigh, and points at Kurt. "You're killing me, Kurt. Oh, man. You play stone cold fox and stone cold bitch. I told Nate and Justin about you're innocent routine at lunch and they just had to see it for themselves."
Nameless guy – or actually, Justin – sidles up next to Kurt and puts an arm around his waist. His breath tickles Kurt's ear as he speaks. "Yeah, we all agree you're a good actor, so you can stop showing off those skills."
Nate steps in close and whispers into Kurt's other ear, "I can think of another set of skills you can show off."
"Stop it!" shouts Kurt, simultaneously pushing Nate away and checking Justin with his hip. A few other heads turn in their direction at Kurt's raised voice. He crosses his arms and takes another step back from the three guys. In a lower voice he says, "I really don't know understand what you're talking about. Now leave me alone. I don't know you, I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't want any of you anywhere near me."
"What's wrong, Kurt, huh?" asks Sean in a mock hurt tone. "I thought we were friends. Or at least, you were certainly friendly last night."
All three guys chuckle at that and Nate gives Sean a high five. Kurt stares at them in horror, then turns and runs out of the studio, leaving his bag behind. Kurt doesn't stop until he is behind a locked stall in the bathroom. He stands in the stall, fighting an irrational fear that is telling him to stand on the toilet so no one will know he's in there. He holds his head in both hands, willing his mind to stay together. Blood rushes past his ears as his heart pounds. As Sean's words fully sink in, Kurt's stomach turns and he dry heaves into the toilet.
Kurt spends the rest of his free period and most of his writing class alternately sitting on the toilet with his head between his knees and dry heaving into the toilet. It takes a long time for his breathing to slow down. Kurt can feel the fuzzy memories from last night bumping against his consciousness. A big part of him really doesn't want to know what he did with Sean, Nate and Justin, so he actively pushes the memories away and tries to focus on something else. Of course, he doesn't even need to remember to have a pretty good idea what probably happened.
Kurt know there is no way he can handle the last few minutes of his class, so he cautiously approaches the dance studio again. When he sees a dance class in session and his three tormentors are gone, he opens the door and walks carefully along the perimeter of the room to retrieve his bag.
On the subway ride back to his apartment, Kurt listens to his ipod and sings along loudly, shutting his eyes and not caring how annoying this must be for the other passengers. It is the slightly less crazy-looking version of sticking his fingers in his ears and singing "la, la, la, la, la, la, la" at the top of his lungs. It is effective. His brain is flooded with Lady Gaga and nothing else.
When Kurt gets back to the apartment, he immediately sees that thing that must have been right before his eyes the whole morning, but that he somehow didn't see. It was just like the wallet from the construction crew leader's story on the Twilight Zone. In the middle of the coffee table there is an unmarked DVD disk without a case. On it is a yellow post-it with a note in Kurt's own handwriting: In case I forget.
Instantly, the fear is back, cold daggers stabbing at his abdomen. He looks across the room at the video camera he and Rachel use to record solos and duets to post on youtube. He looks back at the disk and wonders.
In spite of the nearly crippling fear, Kurt forces himself to take the disk to his computer. He plugs in his earphones, sure that he doesn't want his neighbors to hear what might be on the disk. Fingers shaking with trepidation, Kurt clicks the play button and hopes against hope that the movie is not what he suspects.