Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away.
The wind whipped through New York City like Kurt and Blaine had never seen. The weathermen were urging people to stay off the street per fear of flying debris. Kurt and Blaine sat in the loft, waiting out the terrible weather.
Blaine had been watching something on television and hadn't heard a sound out of Kurt, who he knew was in the bedroom, for hours. He went back to investigate. He found Kurt standing with his head out an open window, holding something in his hand. He could see Kurt's hair whipping in the wind around his face. "What on earth are you doing?" Blaine asked.
"I kind of like the wind. It reminds me of Ohio," Kurt said.
"What do you have in your hands?" Blaine asked.
"This," Kurt said. He brought himself back inside and handed Blaine a folded up piece of loose-leaf paper. It was a note by a writer with terrible handwriting, confessing a heartfelt apology.
Blaine's jaw dropped when he saw who the author was: the note was signed Dave Karofsky. "Wow. You never told me about this," Blaine said.
"Karofsky left me several of those over the course of about six months once I returned to McKinley. I just didn't think they were important. Are you angry?" Kurt asked.
"Of course not," Blaine said. "Are you homesick?" Blaine asked.
"Kind of," Kurt replied. He took his note back and went back to his post, hanging halfway out the window. "Oh!" he cried. Both Kurt and Blaine watched the note float out into the air and onto the street, blown by a violent gust of wind from Kurt's hand.
"Do you want to go after it?" Blaine asked.
"Nah," Kurt replied. "I have plenty of them," he said. He reached under his bed and grabbed a shoebox containing notes he and Blaine had passed in class, but also a Ziploc bag full of the notes from Karofsky. That bag set aside, they spent the night looking through the silly notes that occupied them through their tedious classes together.