A reminder: both of the songs that Blaine and Kurt are involved in during this episode are fantasies (Blaine's "Everybody Wants To Rule The World" at the beginning as he talks about joining all the clubs and missing Kurt, and Kurt, Isabelle, and Rachel's "The Way You Look Tonight" "You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile" mash-up while they film the makeover video)...
(I do not own Glee or any of the characters, dialogue, or songs from the show. It's all just for fun!)
BLAINE
When Blaine arrived at school on Monday morning, he felt more optimistic about the school year than he had since Kurt left for New York. He had spent the last school year being there for Kurt and doing whatever he needed to do to help New Directions be a cohesive team, but now he could focus on himself. It was his year to shine.
He was already captain of New Directions, but he knew he could do more. He wanted to do more.
It was, he admitted to himself, partially to fill the time that had previously been spent with Kurt. Keeping busy made it easier not to spend too much time feeling sorry for himself because he wasn't in New York with Kurt. In a year, he would be there, too, and this year would feel like an insignificant bump in the road.
And, Blaine thought as he approached the bulletin board that hosted flyers for the school's various clubs, keeping busy might help him get to New York. Colleges love extracurriculars.
He joined as many clubs as he thought he could handle, including the sewing club and the superhero sidekicks club. Those two, he thought, could go hand-in-hand because he would be able to improve his sewing while working on his costumes.
As Blaine scanned the bulletin board to make sure he hadn't missed anything that seemed interesting, his gaze fell on the signup sheet for student body president. The only name on the list was Brittany's. Written in crayon.
Blaine considered it. He could be student body president. He liked to be the leader rather than a follower, and being student body president would mean that he would have a say in the prom theme and in other things that mattered. He could make a difference.
Blaine reached up and signed his name below Brittany's.
"What do you think you're doing, Blaine Warbler?" Brittany asked from behind him.
"I'm running for President," Blaine explained as he turned to face her. He was pleased with his chances of winning. Brittany had held the position last year and had done a terrible job, so wouldn't the student body prefer someone new and competent?
Brittany blinked a few times before turning and hurrying away.
Blaine and Brittany were called to Principal Figgins' office during lunch so they could hear the rules for the election.
"To reduce student-on-student drama," Principal Figgins explained, "this year's student body president election will take place this week only. You have until Friday at lunch to campaign, and then your fellow classmates will decide who they wish to serve them this year."
"Is a week really enough time?" Blaine asked skeptically. "Monday's already halfway over, so if the vote happens on Friday at lunch –"
"Children," Principal Figgins interrupted, "the fact of the matter is that the election will happen on Friday. In addition, you will each choose a running mate to assist you in campaigning now and in governing your fellow students later. And, in the unlikely and tragic event that the student body president loses his or her life, the student body vice president will be promoted."
"Wha –?" Blaine couldn't form his question into words, so he just stared at the principal. He could tell that Brittany was nodding enthusiastically.
"That will be all," Principal Figgins dismissed them. "Good luck to you both."
The rest of the day went by quickly, mostly because Blaine was busy mentally campaigning and considering possible running mates instead of paying attention in class.
"Okay," Mr. Schu said that afternoon during glee rehearsal, "as you all know, as national champions, we get to host the annual show choir rules committee meeting."
It was an exciting perk of winning Nationals. Mr. Schu would have a say in some of the rules and regulations for the upcoming competition season.
"Please tell me you're going to ask what 'one third vintage' meant last year," Tina asked.
"Yeah, or, like, why some teams get to sing six songs and others only do one," Sam added.
"Speaking of competition," Jake said, "shouldn't we start, like, preparing for ours?"
"I have some ideas," Mr. Schu answered, "which I am working on. Very hard."
It was clearly a lie. As Mr. Schu attempted to explain why he had not yet shared most of his ideas with the group, Brittany interrupted.
"Excuse me?" Brittany said as she raised her hand.
"Yes, go ahead," Mr. Schu allowed.
"I'm not sure if what you were saying was actually important because I wasn't listening," Brittany said, "but I'd like to make an announcement."
She skipped to the front of the room. "First, I'd like to know if anyone can prove that Blaine was actually born in this country," Brittany stated.
Blaine was torn between wanting to laugh and roll his eyes. Was she serious?
"Second," Brittany continued, "I'm wrapping up the election by selecting Artie as my running mate. I think, by bridging the human/robot divide, we'll ensure that both students and vending machines will be voting for us."
"Still not a robot," Artie said.
"Brittany, that's not fair," Blaine argued. "This isn't a popularity contest. It's about who's got the best ideas! It's about believing you can make a change, right?"
"What is that taste in my... is that... sour grape?" Artie teased.
Blaine didn't know what to say. Why were they even considering Brittany when she had failed so completely at the same office the year before? Fortunately, the bell rang and saved Blaine from having to say anything else. Everyone got up and left the room, and Blaine wandered to his locker to get the books he needed for his homework that evening.
"Blaine Warbler," Brittany interjected as Blaine tried to decide if he really needed his history book. He looked up to see Brittany and Sam standing beside him. "I'd like to introduce you to Sam Evans."
Sam stuck his arm out for a handshake.
"Um," Blaine glanced from Brittany to Sam and back again, ignoring Sam's hand, "we've actually met. Several times."
"He's your candidate for vice president," Brittany said.
"Uh, no," Blaine argued. "I'm picking my own running mate."
"My family's on food stamps, so that'll get you the sympathy vote," Sam offered. "And I'm not gay, so that'll help with the not-gay vote. And, you know, I don't want to brag, but my impressions are hilarious one hundred percent of the time," he finished in someone else's voice.
Blaine looked at Sam, considering it. He didn't know Sam as well as he probably should in order to accept him as a running mate, but Sam was right. He needed a straight, popular guy to help him over the hurdle of being the gay candidate. Although, Blaine reminded himself, wasn't Brittany bisexual? Maybe people were more comfortable with the idea of two girls together than two guys. Or maybe Brittany's antics were enough to push the sexuality issue off the table. Blaine wasn't sure.
"George Bush, come on," Sam explained his impression.
"Okay," Blaine agreed. "Sure."
Blaine shook Sam's hand as Brittany said "First order of business? Artie and I challenge you and Sam to a debate."
"You're on," Blaine accepted the challenge.
"What's a debate?" Sam whispered, leaning in close to Blaine as Brittany walked away.
"What's a... are you serious?" Blaine questioned.
"If it's a fight, we're totally gonna win," Sam said. "Because I'm ripped and you're a boxer, right? Although, what about the 'no punching girls' rule? Does that apply here?"
"It's not a fight," Blaine rolled his eyes. "A debate is like a... like a conversation. Someone will ask questions, and each candidate gets to answer. The idea is to show that you're the best candidate for the job."
"Huh," Sam understood.
"We'll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?" Blaine suggested.
"You got it, dude," Sam pitched his voice up and gave Blaine a thumbs up.
Blaine narrowed his eyes.
"Come on, Full House!" Sam scolded.
"See you tomorrow," Blaine said, not bothering to hide his smile as he turned to walk away.
KURT
Monday was a whirlwind for Kurt. He had spent the entire weekend trying to decide what to wear to his Vogue dot com interview. Should he wear something that pushed the fashion envelope to make a statement? Should he wear something traditionally formal to look like a serious candidate? How much was too much? How much was too little?
He had finally settled on a mix of offbeat and traditional; his white shirt, black tie, and dark blazer were classic, but his pants had shark teeth on them. With his hippo broach pinned on his blazer, Kurt felt good about the statement he was making. He had also decided to carry a leather bag rather than his favorite canvas bag so he would look as professional as possible.
After a few spoonfuls of his breakfast – he was too nervous to eat anything substantial – Kurt took the train into Manhattan and switched trains to take the Subway toward Vogue dot com headquarters. But, after two stops, he realized he was going the wrong way. Trying not to panic, Kurt hurried off the train at the next stop and found his way to the opposite platform so he could take the train back in the proper direction. By the time he arrived at the station nearest to Vogue dot com's building, he was so anxious that he was going to be late that he ran through the station, up the stairs onto the street, and into the building.
"Hi," he said quickly as he slid to a stop in front of the receptionist. "I'm Kurt Hummel. I'm here for an interview."
"Mmm," she acknowledged. "Have a seat, please. Ms. Wright will be with you shortly."
Kurt sank onto a couch near the receptionist desk and tried to calm down. He wasn't late. But he was minutes away from coming face to face with fashion designer Isabelle Wright. One of his biggest fashion inspirations.
"Ms. Wright will see you now," the receptionist said. Kurt stood up and the receptionist motioned down the hallway. "On your right," she instructed.
When Kurt reached the open door, he glanced in and found the room empty. Was this the right place?
He knocked on the door frame. "Hello?"
Isabelle appeared from behind a rack of clothes, smiling. "Columbus!" she said enthusiastically.
"Excuse me?" Kurt asked.
"You're from Lima," Isabelle explained. "I'm from Columbus! And, actually, I once got food poisoning in Lima. It was some Italian place... it was Bread..."
"...stix?" Kurt suggested.
"Breadstix, yes!" Isabelle remembered.
"I can't believe you ate at Breadstix," Kurt commented in disbelief. He could have sat in the same spot as Isabelle Wright. At Breadstix. In his hometown. And now he was standing right in front of her inside Vogue dot com headquarters in New York City. How had he not remembered that she was from Ohio? It gave him a small dose of courage; she had gotten out of Ohio, and so could he.
"Well, I wish I hadn't," Isabelle teased. She stepped forward and offered her hand. "Isabelle Wright."
"Kurt Hummel," Kurt introduced himself, shaking her hand.
"So, Mr. Hummel," Isabelle said as she turned to walk to her desk, "I have to tell you, I am very impressed with your online resume. Especially this gallery of you and your rather bold clothing choices."
She pulled the site up on her iPad and turned it around so he could see it.
"Where did you find all this?" Isabelle inquired.
"Well," Kurt explained, happy that his plan to use the website to stand out had paid off, "I made most of them and searched the Internet for bargains. And that half sweater there at the bottom, that belonged to my dead aunt. I found it in her attic. And the embroidered calico vest, uh, was actually inspired by one of your designs."
"Oh, yes," Isabelle recalled. "My quilted micro-skirt collection. It was an epic fail."
"But," Kurt said the first thing that came to his mind, "like you said in Vanity Fair... 'I don't trust anyone who hasn't failed big at least once'."
Isabelle suggested that he take a seat, and Kurt was happy to do so. His legs felt a little unsteady.
"So, I'm just going to ask you a few routine questions I ask all potential hires," Isabelle explained. "Who are your fashion icons?"
"Audrey Hepburn," Kurt told her. "Michelle Obama. And, not to kiss up or anything... you."
Isabelle smiled. "And have you done any writing on fashion?" she asked.
It was the question Kurt had been dreading. The answer was "not really". He had never written for any reason other than his own enjoyment.
"Self journaling, mostly," he said. "I did weekly updates and, uh, blogs on Project Runway since season one. And..." he couldn't think of anything else to say. There wasn't anything else. He knew he could write well enough; he almost always got As on his essays in school. Should he mention that?
To his surprise, Isabelle saved him from an awkward silence by jumping straight to the next question. "Wave your magic wand; where would you be in four years?"
A much easier question to answer. "Working here," Kurt said, "part time. Graduating from NYADA and, uh, starting my first Broadway show. I know that sounds presumptuous..." he realized as he heard himself say his dream out loud.
"No!" Isabelle disagreed, standing up to walk around the desk to sit near Kurt. "Frankly, you should be more presumptuous, you know? This is New York. It's for dreamers. It's for, you know, people like you who are just starting out and people like me who very much want to reinvent themselves. No, you should dream. You should dream very, very big. And then you should work incredibly hard and make sure you do everything in your power to make it happen."
Kurt felt like he was having an out of body experience. Very few adults ever encouraged him so strongly. He had always heard positive things about Isabelle Wright – she's lovely, she's smart, she's upbeat – but this was better than he had ever imagined.
"Look," Isabelle continued, "Anna hired me because she said that the websites that I designed for my collections were inspired. And so, neither myself nor my team can let her down."
Kurt didn't know what to say, so he remained silent.
"And that includes you," Isabelle added.
"Me?" Kurt asked as his heart suddenly felt like it was trying to pound out of his chest.
"Well, listen, my friend," Isabelle said warmly, "anybody who can pull off a hippo broach deserves to be here."
Kurt glanced down at the broach on his jacket and felt a flood of excitement surging through his body. Was she saying...?
"So," Isabelle extended her hand, "welcome to Vogue dot com."
"Thank you!" Kurt gushed, standing up as he shook her hand. "Thank you so– thank you –" He hugged her before he thought about whether or not it was appropriate, but she didn't seem to mind.
"You're very welcome," she said as he stepped away, apologizing for possible overstepping. "It's okay! That thing," she tapped his broach with her pencil, "should come with a warning."
"Uh, it did," Kurt said before he could stop himself. What was he saying? He was so nervous he didn't feel completely in control of his words.
"Alright," Isabelle said, moving back behind her desk to sit down. "Do you have time to do the paperwork today? You'll start your 'official duties'," she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "tomorrow, but it'll be more fun for you, I think, if the boring stuff is done today."
"Oh, yes. Yes," Kurt agreed. "I– yes, I have time."
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass you off to someone else," Isabelle apologized. "Paperwork and I..." she shook her head and scrunched her nose in protest.
Kurt breathed out a nervous, delighted laugh and nodded his agreement.
The next hour passed in a blur of people and paperwork and tax forms and all kinds of things that Kurt prayed he was doing right. When he was finally finished with all the paperwork and had been photographed for his ID card, he was allowed to leave.
"Kurt!" Isabelle's voice stopped him before he opened the door to leave Vogue dot com's section of the building. He turned and saw her leaning out of her office. "See you tomorrow," she smiled.
Kurt was so overwhelmed that he just waved and offered his biggest smile before opening the door and stepping into the hallway.
He did it.
He was an intern at Vogue dot com.
The trip back to Bushwick felt like it lasted a week because he was so excited to tell everyone.
To his delight, Kurt found that Rachel was home when he arrived. "Well?" she bounced on the balls of her feet as Kurt closed the door behind him.
He turned to face her and leaned back against the door. "I work at Vogue dot com," he gasped.
Rachel screamed with joy, and they rushed to each other to hug and jump up and down together.
"Okay," Rachel said, grabbing Kurt by his shoulders, "this time I'm buying the cake! You stay here." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Call Blaine! I'll be back soon and we're going to celebrate the newest fashion intern in New York City!"
He nodded, and she grabbed a sweater and ran out the door.
He called his dad first, so excited that Burt didn't even understand what he was saying for the first few seconds. And then he called Blaine.
"Hey!" Blaine answered "So...?"
"So," Kurt giggled, "you are talking to Kurt Hummel, internet at Vogue dot com!"
"Kurt!" Blaine applauded. "Congratulations! I knew they would love you!"
"You did," Kurt recalled. "Thank you. I even got to do the interview with Isabelle Wright!" he gushed.
"No," Blaine gasped. "Oh my god, Kurt, you've met Isabelle Wright. You work with Isabelle Wright."
"I know!" Kurt sang happily.
"Um," Blaine said, "I've got some news, too..."
"Yeah?" Kurt encouraged.
"I'm running for student body president," Blaine said, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice.
"Oh my god, you're definitely going to win," Kurt told him. "Everyone loves you."
"I don't know about that," Blaine countered. "But the election's on Friday – I guess Principal Figgins decided he wanted a very, very short campaign this year – and Sam's my running mate."
"Sam's what?" Kurt asked, confused.
"Another new rule," Blaine explained. "Running mates."
"And you picked Sam?" Kurt asked. "What about Tina? Or Artie?"
"Artie's running with Brittany," Blaine said. "And... I don't know. It just felt right."
"I think you'll get along with Sam pretty well, actually," Kurt allowed. "And I still say you're going to win."
"Well, thanks," Blaine said, his voice light. "I'm going to put that on my campaign material. 'Endorsed by a real life Vogue dot com intern'."
They both laughed, and it tapered off into comfortable silence.
"Do you start tomorrow?" Blaine broke the brief silence.
"Yes!" Kurt confirmed. "Tomorrow morning I will get up, get dressed, and join the New York City commute to work."
"That's just... amazing, Kurt," Blaine said. "Really."
The door to the apartment slid open, and Rachel entered with a huge cake in her arms.
"Rachel!" Kurt scolded.
"I wanted them to write on it!" she argued. "And it'll stay good in the fridge..."
"Yeah, if we don't emotionally eat it all, first!" Kurt rolled his eyes, but he was secretly delighted.
"I'll let you go," Blaine said in his ear.
"Oh!" Kurt remembered that he was still on the phone. "Sorry. Rachel's back."
"Go celebrate," Blaine said. "I'm sorry I'm not there to celebrate with you! I love you."
"I love you," Kurt echoed. "And, Blaine?"
"Yes?" Blaine requested.
"Thank you so much for pushing me to come here."
KURT
Kurt's first day of work at Vogue dot com was the busiest day Kurt had experienced since he graduated from high school. When he arrived, one of Isabelle's assistants showed him to his desk. He was given an earpiece. He answered calls. He called to confirm orders of clothing from some of the biggest fashion labels in New York. He sorted mail and followed another intern around while she delivered the day's mail so he could start to learn who everyone was and where their offices were. He was given his ID card and all the codes to access the various clothing vaults. Kurt could barely contain himself when one of the other interns took him inside of one of the locked rooms and showed him how the racks of clothing were organized.
He only saw Isabelle briefly in the morning right when he arrived because she was hurrying out the door for a day of meetings with various designers. But, as he scrolled through his phone and tried not to fall asleep on the train back to Bushwick after work, he discovered a short email from his new boss.
"Everyone had lovely things to say about you this evening," she wrote. "Congratulations on surviving day one!"
The next morning when his alarm went off, that positive email was the only thing that got him out of bed. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. As he turned off his alarm, he noticed that he had missed a call from Blaine the night before. Two calls, actually. When Blaine hadn't been able to reach him, he had left a voicemail expressing his concern and hoping that Kurt had enjoyed his first day at his internship. And he had sent a text: Sorry I missed you. Love you.
Sorry! Kurt texted him once he was settled into a seat on the train to Manhattan. Was so tired last night that I don't even remember setting my alarm. Day one was great! Will call later. Love you too.
Day two was better than day one. He was sent out to get coffee when he arrived, and he was grateful that he had worked in a coffee shop so he could order everything without confusing the barista. When he got back, Isabelle and the rest of the team were in a meeting in the conference room. Kurt snuck in and started distributing coffees, listening as the group tried to decide what the website's focus should be this month.
It was much more awkward than Kurt anticipated. Everyone seemed bored and uninspired, and, although Isabelle tried to keep the conversation going, things eventually fell flat. When Isabelle glanced up and briefly met Kurt's gaze, he could tell that she wanted to get out of there as much as he did.
"Okay, why don't we do this?" she suggested. "Let's, uh, we're gonna take a little break and then we will... we'll revisit the idea of leather. Kurt, can I see you in my office?"
Kurt hurried after her, a little worried that maybe he had made it too obvious that he was trying to absorb everything that everyone was saying.
"So," Isabelle asked as they reached her office, "what did you think of the ideas in there?"
"Fascinating," Kurt lied, glad that he wasn't in trouble.
Isabelle turned to face him with an expression that said "tell the truth".
"I hated them," Kurt confessed. "Look, I know I'm just an intern, but I feel like 'unexpected leather' should be in the back pages of The Village Voice."
"No, I know, I agree," Isabelle said, "but Man–"
She cut herself off and hurried to close the door.
"Mandy, you know, the receptionist?" Isabelle explained once the door was closed. "Every time I walk by her, she suggests that I do an article on trends in animal hide. And then her cat died. Did you know her cat died? So then what am I going to say? No? So now I'm stuck with leather."
"No, you're not," Kurt reassured her. "There are a million different ideas. We could do a music video that pays tribute to the most cutting-edge fashion... right?"
He wasn't sure where that idea had come from, but, now that it had escaped his lips, he liked the way it sounded.
"Well, I told Chase Madison that I would do his piece on Spanx for cankles. 'Spankles'," Isabelle explained unhappily. "Oh, god. I'm an artist, not a manager! I can't say no to anybody; I can't bear it. You know, I'm used to knocking on doors, not bolting them shut."
Kurt tipped his head in agreement.
"Back in the day, if I had an idea, a crazy idea," Isabelle continued, "I knew if it was good based on my instinct. And now, crazy ideas just seem crazy to me. Like, you know... high heeled goulashes or equestrian underwear. What? And I can't... I can't land anything."
"I just feel like I lucked into a job I don't deserve," Isabelle admitted as she sank into her desk chair, "and I– honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing. My collection was a failure; I can't fail at this. And I just rented a one bedroom apartment in Midtown so I could walk to work. But now, I'm not going to have a job to walk to or an apartment to walk from. I'm going to be homeless."
Kurt knew a mini breakdown when he saw one. He needed to say something.
"Hey, hey," he said, grabbing a chair to sit down, "you are not going to be homeless, alright? You can always come stay with me and my roommate in Bushwick," he teased.
"Oh, god," Isabelle whined, dropping her head into one of her hands. "Kurt, thank you, you're lovely. I'm sorry I'm dumping all of this on you on your second day."
"It's fine," Kurt countered. "This is pretty much the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, so dump away!" he waved his hand in the air to enhance the sentiment, and Isabelle laughed.
"Not the most amazing thing that will ever happen to you, though, I bet," she suggested.
Kurt smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Short of getting into NYADA and booking a Broadway show, he didn't know what could possibly happen to top this.
KURT
After work, Kurt met up with Rachel so they could ride the train home together.
"Yeah, I swear, it was like a deleted scene from The Exorcist that was cut because it was actually too scary," Rachel complained as they walked toward their apartment. She had been forced to deal with two particularly unkind dancers between classes earlier in the day.
"How chilling," Kurt acknowledged.
"And then I tried!" Rachel said. "I tried to be, like, nice and, you know, smile... but then the black swan said to me: 'I didn't know Lena Dunham was joining us today'. And I asked her if I had done something to offend her, to which the other one said that my outfit offended her! I mean, really," Rachel rolled her eyes.
She was still talking about it as they were sitting down – still on the floor, because they hadn't found a suitable table yet – to eat their take-out dinner.
"And, you know," Rachel said from her seat on the ground, "part of why I was so excited to come to New York was because I thought it would be a chance for me to start over. Reinvent myself. I had no idea it was going to be so exactly the same."
"You know why you feel exactly the same?" Kurt asked as he walked over to sit down with her. "Because you're still dressing exactly the same. We're not in Ohio anymore, Rachel. And, even then, it's not like we were exactly on trend. I hate to say this, but life is like high school. Styles and clothes determine the pecking order."
"Well, I don't know what you expect me to do," Rachel said. "It's not like I can afford an entire new wardrobe."
An idea hit Kurt so fast that he forgot all about his food. "Who says you'll have to pay for it?" he suggested as the idea expanded in his mind.
Rachel looked dubious.
"Put down your chopsticks and follow me," Kurt ordered. "I've got an idea."
"It's almost midnight; what are you talking about?" Rachel said as Kurt leapt to his feet and hurried to grab his coat.
"I'm about to change your life," Kurt explained, giddy as he thought about what they were going to do. "And maybe mine, too."
They had to take a taxi because it was so late at night, and Kurt silenced Rachel's protest about the cost by telling her his plan.
They were going to make a video. A music video of Rachel getting a makeover.
"But how is this going to help me get a new look?" Rachel wondered as they approached the building and Kurt dug through his bag for cash to pay the taxi driver.
"There are sample clothes everywhere," Kurt explained. "And, after they've been used once or sometimes never, they get put away and forgotten. Isabelle mentioned this morning that she might just give a bunch of it away..."
"This is the best day of my life!" Rachel buried her face in her hands in delight.
Kurt was glad to see that most of the lights were off when they arrived. Everyone had gone home for the night. There was no policy about how late was too late to be in the office – and he had an ID card, so they weren't exactly breaking in – but he wasn't sure if what he wanted to do would be overstepping his new privileges. He wanted to film the music video and then deal with any possible consequences of using the clothing vault without permission.
"God, this is amazing!" Rachel squeaked as they walked past the Vogue dot com logo by the reception desk. "Take my picture! No, no, quickly!"
"That's nothing," Kurt whispered at her as he hurried toward the door to Vogue dot com's biggest clothing vault, "check this out!"
"Wait, I'm scared; don't leave me!" Rachel hissed, rushing after him as Kurt scanned his ID card and entered the unlock code.
"Oh my god," Rachel gasped as they pushed open the double doors and stepped into the room full of clothes. "I can't even breathe!"
"They call this the couture vault," Kurt explained. "It supposedly can survive a nuclear blast. Okay, I'll set up the camera..."
"Freeze!"
Kurt and Rachel spun around to find Isabelle and two security guards standing in the doorway.
"Kurt," Isabelle gasped, surprised and relieved.
"I– I thought you were going to be at dinner with Steve Buscemi and Yoko Ohno," Kurt confessed.
"Well, they canceled again," Isabelle informed them. "What are you doing here? And who's that?" she pointed at Rachel.
"Oh, I'm Rachel Berry," Rachel said immediately. "I'm Kurt's roommate. He–"
"We were gonna do a music video for the website," Kurt explained quickly.
"– he adores you," Rachel said.
"Rachel was going to get a makeover and she's gonna model some clothes and–" Kurt elaborated.
"Wait, stop!" Isabelle said quickly, putting her hand out to ask Kurt to stop talking. "Stop, stop, stop."
Kurt braced himself for whatever punishment she was going to lay on him.
"You had me at 'makeover'," Isabelle smiled.
Kurt thought he might fall over with surprise. She was going to let them do it?
"Thanks, gentlemen," Isabelle dismissed the security guards. "False alarm."
As the uniformed men walked away, Isabelle stepped through the doorway and closed the doors behind her.
"Okay," she said as she turned toward Kurt and Rachel, "tell me your plan."
Kurt explained his idea and, with Isabelle's help, they went to work. Rachel had a blast trying on every beautiful gown she could get her hands on, Kurt managed to end up wearing an outfit that cost more than a month's rent on their apartment, and Isabelle matched their enthusiasm as they filmed and watched the footage and filmed again and again until they were satisfied that they had enough to edit together into something worth watching.
And, true to Kurt's prediction, Isabelle gave Rachel an entire rack's worth of clothing to thank her for helping them create the video.
"Thank you, oh! Oh my– thank you so much!" Rachel gasped as Isabelle helped them load the clothes into a taxi for the ride back to Bushwick.
"No," Isabelle said to Rachel, "thank you for coming. I haven't had this much fun at work... well, in a really long time. And Kurt?" she turned and gave him a quick hug. "I can't wait to see what you do with this! Consider this moment your permission to edit the video at work tomorrow."
They exchanged goodbyes, and Kurt and Rachel chatted excitedly all the way back to their apartment. They laughed uncontrollably as they hauled all of Rachel's new clothes up the stairs and through the door into their apartment, and it was only when Kurt leaned back against the closed door and tried to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming that he noticed the time.
3:46am.
BLAINE
By Thursday morning, Blaine was starting to get worried about Kurt. And, if he was honest with himself, a little annoyed. Kurt had essentially ignored him since his first day at his new internship. He only texted Blaine in reply to a text from Blaine and, even then, it was always short and vague and all about Kurt.
Blaine was grateful that he had the student council election to distract him.
"If I'm going to be completely honest," Blaine said to Sam as they walked down the hallway together before school, "I'm a little worried that my picking you as my running mate is going to seem like a desperate grab for the straight vote if you don't really look like a serious candidate, you know?"
"What'd'ya mean, Pilgrim?" Sam asked in strange voice.
"Was that John Wayne?" Blaine guessed.
"Yeah, I panicked," Sam admitted.
"Okay, listen... when's your next free period?" Blaine asked, stepping in front of Sam so he would stop walking. "I need you to meet me in the costume shop."
"Uh, yeah, maybe during lunch?" Sam suggested.
"Perfect," Blaine agreed.
So, instead of eating, Blaine found himself in the costume shop with Sam during their lunch break. He needed to find Sam something to wear that would make him look like a leader. And he needed to prepare Sam for the debate.
"Test scores at McKinley have gone down every year for the past decade," Blaine read off a note card as he searched for something for Sam to wear. "What would you do to fix the problem?"
"Stop giving tests," Sam answered. "They're hard and there's way too many of them."
"Sam," Blaine scolded. "You can't just..."
"Dude, I'm not gonna lie," Sam countered.
"You– it's..." Blaine shook his head. "Okay, fine. Let's find you something classy to wear, at least."
They found an outfit that they agreed on in less time than Blaine had anticipated. A simple shirt and tie and blazer.
"Excellent," Blaine complimented as Sam slipped the blazer off so Blaine could hang it up to save for the debate. "You look great."
Sam slid the shirt and tie off and handed them to Blaine. "I should go on stage like this," Sam said as he studied his body in the mirror. "Secure the 'sexy' vote."
He flexed his arms and Blaine tried not to stare. "Uh, I– you– we're going for something a... a little more, uh, professional," Blaine stammered.
"Too bad," Sam sighed, reaching for his regular shirt.
"Too bad," Blaine agreed before he could stop himself, watching the muscles in Sam's back as he put his shirt back on.
"What?" Sam asked as his head emerged through his shirt.
"Nothing," Blaine said quickly, turning away to hang up Sam's shirt and tie. "That's it, thanks Sam!"
BLAINE
That evening, Blaine was happy to remember that he and Kurt had a pre-arranged Skype date. Kurt hadn't texted or called to cancel, so Blaine hurried to get into his pajamas and settle down on the floor at the end of his bed with his laptop to wait for Kurt to come online.
Right on time, Kurt's name buzzed to life and Blaine was delighted to see Kurt's face filling his computer screen.
"Hi!" he waved.
"Hey!" Kurt waved back. "It's so good to see you!"
"You, too," Blaine agreed seriously. "I've missed you."
"Sorry about that," Kurt said. "The internship has been insane! But insane in a great way. Get your phone; I want to show you something!"
Blaine reached over and grabbed his phone and saw that Kurt had sent him a video.
"Watch it!" Kurt urged. "And I want to know your real opinions, so don't hold back!"
It was a music video – starring Rachel – about a girl getting a makeover. By the time Blaine was done watching, he was very impressed.
"Kurt, did you make this?" he questioned as the video ended.
"Last night," Kurt confirmed. "Or, well, super early this morning, really. And I spent all day editing it."
"It's... wow, Kurt," Blaine gushed.
"And that was just the rough cut," Kurt reminded him.
"No, it's genius," Blaine stressed. "And Rachel looks so gorgeous. The whole thing looks so, like, professional and like a real fashion video that you'd see on TV or something. So, what's the next step?"
"Well, ideally, the dream would be that Isabelle would see it and love it and then put it on Vogue dot com," Kurt explained. "But, I mean, she's already committed to so many other concepts that I dunno..."
"No, Kurt, of course she's going to choose yours," Blaine interrupted. "She's gonna pick yours."
"And then," Kurt continued the story, carrying his laptop around his apartment, "after we made over Rachel, Isabelle took us to this place called Grey's Papaya and we had guava juice and hot dogs. It was amazing."
"You're hanging out with fashion goddess Isabelle Wright," Blaine commented as Kurt sprawled out on his bed. He felt incredibly insignificant. "And I'm running for student body president with a former stripper."
"Oh my gosh, I forgot about that!" Kurt said. "How's it going?"
"It's going okay," Blaine said. "But I did want to ask you what bow tie you thought I should wear for tomorrow's debate," he reached behind him to the bench at the end of his bed where he had piled the bow ties he liked best. "I have narrowed it down to five, but, mainly, I have these two..."
"Oh, bow ties are your signature," Kurt said. "Whatever you choose, you're going to look great in!"
"Hi, Blaine!" Rachel shouted from somewhere in the apartment. "We miss you!"
"Oh, Rachel says hi," Kurt told him.
"Oh, hi, Rachel..." Blaine said, but Kurt didn't pause long enough to really hear him.
"By the way," Kurt said, "one more question about the video. That scene where she plays the East Village 'it' girl... did you think that was too much?"
"No, it's... I dunno," Blaine said, having a hard time finding any enthusiasm. Kurt was so into what was going on in New York that he didn't even want to help Blaine pick out a bow tie for the debate the next day.
"Okay, good," Kurt agreed. "Good, because I didn't either, but she was a little skeptical. But I said she was very Chloe Sevigny chic, right?"
"Yeah," Blaine agreed halfheartedly as he set the bowties on the floor beside him. "Yeah."
"So then, oh my god," Kurt continued, "I found this sweater in the vault that was to die for!"
He continued to babble about all the clothes in the vault and about how good the whole experience had been for him and for Rachel and about Isabelle Wright and New York as a whole, and Blaine felt like the least important person in the world. It was like a repeat of the previous year when Kurt was obsessed with his NYADA audition, except Kurt was now hundreds of miles away living a life of designer clothes and guava juice and hot dog dinners.
It was like Blaine existed as someone to listen to Kurt's stories. He nodded and hummed appreciatively as Kurt chatted away, animated and excited, and tried to fight the resentment that was rapidly settling into his chest.
"Well, uh," he interrupted eventually, unable to take any more, "I, um, I should, you know, probably get some sleep. Big debate and the election tomorrow..."
"Oh!" Kurt said, disappointed. "Yeah, of course."
"But," Blaine added, unable to say goodnight with Kurt looking so let down, "I'm so happy for you. That video is really a masterpiece, Kurt."
"Why, thank you," Kurt preened, but then his face softened. "I miss you," Kurt said.
"I miss you," Blaine agreed softly. "Three weeks, right?"
Kurt's smile lit up his entire face. "Yes," he agreed happily. "Three weeks!"
KURT
On Friday morning, Kurt was walking back to his desk after delivering a message when Isabelle leaned out from inside the conference room and spoke to him.
"Kurt, can I see you for a minute?" she asked.
He followed her into the large room and was surprised when she turned to face him and said: "You might want to sit down for this."
"I saw your video," Isabelle said as Kurt sank into a chair at the conference table. "And I forwarded it to Anna."
Kurt's stomach felt like it was trying to compress itself into a tiny sphere. He pulled his earpiece out of his ear and had to ask.
"Am I fired?"
Isabelle pushed her iPad toward him, and Kurt leaned forward to read the email on the screen.
Great - - Anna
"That is the first time that I have heard 'great' from Anna!" Isabelle said happily. "I am gonna print that and frame it!"
Kurt felt like all of his breath tried to leave his body at the same time. "Does... does this mean they're gonna put the video on the website?" Kurt managed to ask.
"Sort of," Isabelle explained. "We're going to re-shoot the whole thing in Bali with Karolina Kurkova, but you are getting credit for the idea."
Kurt could hardly believe what was happening. He was going to be on Vogue dot com. His name. Attached to a fashion video starring Karolina Kurkova.
"Thank you," Kurt smiled, bouncing slightly in his seat. "Thank you so much!"
"No, thank you," Isabelle said.
"And thank you so much for helping out with Rachel," Kurt added, already imagining the screaming they were going to do together in the apartment later that evening. "She went home that night and threw away her reindeer sweater, which is a huge deal for her. She already seems so much more confident, you know? It's so funny how a new image can change everything."
"I sure hope you never lose that," Isabelle said, a fond look on her face.
"What?" Kurt asked, suddenly a little self-conscious.
"Oh, just your unbridled, wide-eyed Lima, Ohio optimism," Isabelle explained. "You know, I had an instinct about you, Kurt Hummel. And, so far, it's proven to be correct. I feel like we're real kindred spirits, don't you?"
"I agree," Kurt said. "And can I please just say that I think you are the best dressed fairy godmother a boy like me could ever have."
He felt like he was going to float away through the ceiling and into the clouds, fueled only by his happiness. This was everything he wanted. Acceptance. Approval. Kindness.
"Well, then," Isabelle said, leaning forward, "can your fairy godmother give you a little bit of advice?"
Kurt tipped his head, curious.
"You have quite the aptitude for fashion," Isabelle told him. "And I know it's your dream to go to NYADA, but sometimes dreams can change and I really would not be surprised if, some day, every A-lister in this town was fighting for one of your designs."
Before Kurt's brain could recover enough to form words, someone interrupted.
"So, which leather pitch are we running with?" she asked from the doorway.
"Oh, actually, you know what?" Isabelle said. "We're gonna toss the whole thing and start from scratch. We're going to meet here in two hours."
"Oh!" Isabelle stopped the woman before she could leave, "And Kurt will be joining us."
"I'm famished," Isabelle smiled at Kurt, gently smacking his arm as she stood up and walked toward the door like she didn't realize that she had just promoted Kurt from coffee and office supplies to the creative team. She suggested lunch at a restaurant Kurt didn't recognize, and he grabbed his things and hurried after her.
"So," Isabelle said as she leaned back into her seat in the back of the taxi that was carrying them toward lunch, "tell me more about you, Kurt. How's Ohio? Gosh, it's been forever since I've been back there."
"Ohio is... fine," Kurt allowed. "Uh, I have a dad – he's in Congress, actually. Burt Hummel from Ohio's fourth district – and a lovely step-mom named Carole. My mom died when I was little. And, oh, a step-brother who's my age. His name's Finn."
"Your dad's in Congress!" Isabelle approved. "Wow! You're quite the family, then, right?" she winked.
"I guess," Kurt laughed. "He'd probably agree with you, anyway."
Isabelle nodded. "And... a significant other?" she pressed gently.
"Yes," Kurt smiled fondly as he thought of Blaine. "His name's Blaine. He's..." Kurt tried to think of how he wanted to describe Blaine. Amazing. Kind. Talented. Sexy. "...the best. He would die if he knew I was telling you about him."
"Well," Isabelle grinned, "there's got to be a photo of him somewhere in that phone of yours, right? Let's see him."
It still felt so insane to be having these conversations with Isabelle Wright. A world-renowned designer and manager at Vogue dot com was interested in things going on in Kurt's life. Kurt wished he could go back in time and tell himself as a high school freshman that this would happen. He wouldn't believe himself.
Kurt pulled out his phone and found his favorite recent photo of him and Blaine together. Tina had taken it the week before Kurt left for New York – they were standing in front of a row of lockers at McKinley and Blaine had his head tipped over onto Kurt's shoulder.
"Very handsome," Isabelle approved. "Love the bow tie."
"It's kind of his thing," Kurt smiled, feeling a pang of homesickness. There was going to be a day, in the not too distant future, when he could run home into Blaine's arms instead of Rachel's.
Isabelle seemed to notice his change in mood as she passed his phone back to him. "He's still in Ohio, I gather?"
"Yeah," Kurt said softly, glancing at the photo briefly before putting the phone away. "But he's going to come to New York in a year."
"Well," Isabelle said brightly, "when he gets here, I want to meet him."
Kurt smiled at her and nodded. Blaine was coming to visit in three weeks. Plenty of time to come up with a surprise way to introduce him to Isabelle.
BLAINE
The debate happened during the first class of the day. Students were allowed to come to the debate in the auditorium instead of attending class, but the turnout was terrible. Blaine tried not to think about it too much as he made sure Sam had the proper outfit on and then sat down in front of a mirror to make sure he looked presentable.
Blaine was tying the bow tie he had chosen for the event – red, white, and blue for subtle patriotism – when Sam hurried over.
"Hey, dude," Sam said as he approached, "now that you made me over, can I give you some advice?"
"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "Sure."
"Lose the bow tie," Sam suggested.
"What?" Blaine protested, stilling his hands before he finished tying the bow tie so he could concentrate on what Sam was saying.
"Yeah, trust me," Sam said. "It makes you look uptight and a little like a young Orville Redenbacher. Just take it off."
"Okay," Blaine obeyed, and they both looked at Blaine's reflection in the mirror for a moment. Sam motioned at Blaine with his hand, and Blaine had to admit that, maybe, Sam knew what he was talking about. He loved bow ties, but maybe the students of McKinley weren't all so open to the idea.
"You know what?" Blaine allowed. "You're actually right."
Sam walked away, and Blaine felt a swell of gratitude that Sam cared enough to say something. "Thank you," he said, even though Sam couldn't hear him.
The vice presidential debate was first, so Blaine stood offstage and watched. Artie spent significantly longer than the allowed time for answers talking about why people should care about student government. When he finally finished, Sue asked Sam if there was anything he would like to say on the subject.
"I wasn't really listening..." Sam admitted. "Whatever Artie said, I agree with that."
"What're you doing?" Blaine mouthed desperately when Sam glanced his way.
Sue's next question didn't help. "Sam Evans, rumor has it you were a stripper. Aren't you ashamed?"
Sam drew in a deep breath. "No," he said, "I'm not."
For a moment, Blaine felt a spark of hope, but then Sam walked around the podium to stand near the edge of the stage.
"In fact..." Sam said as he removed his tie, and Blaine debated whether or not he should run out onto the stage and drag Sam away. He resisted, and Sam ripped his shirt off.
Blaine let his head fall forward in defeat as the crowd went crazy. The debate was a disaster.
It took Sue five minutes to calm the crowd and convince Sam to go put his shirt back on.
"What was that?" Blaine scolded as Sam joined him offstage.
"I'm not ashamed!" Sam snapped. "And don't give me crap about it, okay? I know you're not into it."
"Wha –?" Blaine started to ask, but Sue's voice echoed through the auditorium.
"If the two presidential candidates aren't at their respective podiums in fifteen seconds," Sue announced, "we're done here."
Blaine glared at Sam, who had his back turned toward Blaine, before he hurried to his podium on the stage.
"Would either of you like to say any opening remarks?" Sue asked.
"No," Brittany said.
"Yes, please," Blaine said.
Sue just waved a hand to tell Blaine to go ahead.
"Students at this school have every right to be angry," Blaine told the crowd. "Last year's student council, led by my opponent, was the most ineffectual in a generation. Britney S. Pierce, in her last term, accomplished absolutely nothing except plan a dinosaur-themed prom and banned the use of hair gel."
Sam emerged from offstage, fully clothed, to sit beside Blaine.
There was nothing else on his note card for opening remarks, but Blaine felt like he needed to say more. "Um, ladies and gentlemen," he said, putting his note cards away, "telling anyone what they can or cannot put into their hair is disgusting. It's the first step toward tyranny, my friends. Next thing you know, they'll start burning books and then they'll probably start burning people too."
"That's a lie," Brittany said.
"This tyranny," Blaine continued pounding on the podium to reinforce his passion, "all ends today, McKinley! I want to offer you a change. And I am that change. Let's make history, Titans, and vote Anderson-Evans. Thank you."
Sue asked Brittany for a response, and Blaine thanked the universe as Brittany declared that, if re-elected, she would outlaw summer break and weekends.
"You know what?" Sue said when Brittany finished. "I think we're done here."
"But –" Blaine protested.
Sue made a chopping motion with one arm, and someone muted Blaine's microphone.
BLAINE
The election happened a few hours later, during lunch. Blaine was pleasantly surprised by the turnout; with such a short campaign, which had consisted of a few posters and the morning's strange debate, Blaine had worried that nobody would care enough to vote at all. But, as they passed through the cafeteria doors, most of the students grabbed a ballot and checked one of the names before tossing it into the collection box.
Sue and Ms. Pillsbury tallied the ballots that afternoon, and Blaine was trying to concentrate in Mr. Schu's history class when the intercom hummed to life.
"Attention, students!" Sue announced. "Your record-level election votes have been tallied, and we have a winner. Becky, can I get a xylophone flourish?"
Silence.
"No, not feeling it?" Sue said. "Okay. This year's student council president is... Blaine Anderson."
Blaine was so relieved to hear his name that he had to close his eyes and just absorb the news for a second. He could hear his classmates applauding.
"Party at Breadstix tonight!" Sugar shouted as Blaine opened his eyes.
"Alright, alright," Mr. Schu said. "Everyone calm down. Blaine, congratulations! But let's focus, okay?"
Nobody paid much attention for the rest of the class. When the bell rang, everyone jumped up and Blaine found himself surrounded by people who wanted to high five him and shake his hand and congratulate him. It was overwhelming, and Blaine was glad when he finally made it to his car.
When he got home, he checked his phone to find a text message from Sugar.
Party at Breadstix! 7pm!
Blaine smiled and texted her back to let her know that he would be there. And then he texted Kurt.
Call me when you can!
He showered and changed his clothes and left a note for his parents that he would be out late before driving back to Lima for the party.
"Hey, man!" Sam saw him and hurried over as Blaine walked through the door into the restaurant. "Congrats!"
They shook hands, and Blaine wasn't sure why he wasn't feeling particularly enthusiastic about their win. It felt good, but not as good as Blaine wanted it to feel. "Congrats," he echoed, forcing a smile.
By the time everyone arrived, Blaine felt slightly better. Someone brought a big banner – "Congratulations, BLAM! Let freedom SING!" –and Sugar insisted that Sam and Blaine stand at the front of the room so confetti could rain down on them like real politicians celebrating a victory. Blaine laughed and high fived Sam as the bits of paper fell around them and everyone cheered.
"Make some noise!" Sugar shouted as Blaine stepped off the stage. "We know him!"
"Congratulations!" Marley beamed as she walked up and grabbed him for a hug.
"Thank you," he smiled.
"Good job!" Marley added before she walked away.
"Thank you, thank you," Blaine repeated.
"Congratulations, Mr. President," Artie said as he rolled up to Blaine. They shook hands.
"Thank you, Artie" Blaine replied.
"Losing the bow tie... that was your game changer," Artie commented. "Kudos."
"No hard feelings?" Blaine asked, hoping that he hadn't alienated anyone with his win. "Maybe I can find a place for you in my administration!"
"No thanks," Artie said. "I got what I needed. Sugar asked me out on a date. She invited me horseback riding... I'm just hoping it doesn't involve being towed."
Blaine smiled. Sugar and Artie seemed like a strange pair, but he was happy for them.
"You talk to Kurt?" Artie added.
No.
"Uh, yeah!" Blaine lied. "Yeah, he was super proud of me and he's really excited. Uh, he's already planning a whole inaugural ball."
It was everything that Blaine had secretly hoped would happen. But he hadn't even talked to Kurt yet, by phone or via text message.
"Well," Artie nodded, "congratulations."
"Thanks," Blaine smiled and patted Artie's shoulder as he rolled by.
Blaine was frustrated that he wasn't excited about winning the election, but none of what was happening felt important. Everyone around him was friendly, but were they his friends? He knew most of them from school, but they didn't hang out. He was their student body president, but did it really matter?
He had always had Kurt there by his side. Any outing with New Directions had always been Kurt's idea. Most of Blaine's interaction with everyone in Lima had, until a few weeks ago, been because of Kurt.
He was only in Lima because of Kurt.
Fighting a sudden rush of loneliness, Blaine pulled out his phone and dialed Kurt's number.
It rang and rang and rang, and Blaine knew that Kurt wasn't going to pick up. As the final ring faded away and Kurt's voicemail message was about to start, Blaine ended the call. He didn't want to hear Kurt cheerfully asking him to leave a message.
"There's the man of the hour!" Sam approached from behind, clasping Blaine on the shoulder as Blaine put his phone back in his pocket. "You alright?"
"You know," Blaine confessed as Sam sat down in a booth, "it didn't hit me until right now. I came to McKinley for Kurt. That's it."
It all seemed perfectly clear as he stood in the middle of Breadstix and considered all the moments he and Kurt had shared in this room. They had sung together with the Warblers on their first Valentine's Day as friends. Kurt had asked him to prom. Blaine had surprised Kurt on their first Valentine's Day together as boyfriends.
He had only come to Breadstix without Kurt one time. When Cooper came to visit and they went out to lunch together on a school day.
Blaine had convinced himself, both when it happened and every time he had thought about it since, that he had transferred for more than just Kurt. That it was also because he got a second shot at facing the demons of public school. And that it would be fun to be in New Directions where he could be Blaine rather than Blaine Warbler.
But he would never have left Dalton if he had never known Kurt.
"And now he's gone," Blaine continued as he sat down across from Sam. "And, even with glee club, it just... I feel really, really alone."
Blaine wasn't sure why he was confessing this to Sam. Sam was nice enough, but they didn't know each other particularly well.
"You're kinda killing my party buzz, bro," Sam said.
"I'm sorry," Blaine apologized. "It's just that I did all this," Blaine waved his hand at the party around them, but meant for the motion to signify much more, "for him. I did all this for him! And now he's not here. And so it just kinda feels like... none of it matters."
It kinda felt like nothing mattered.
"Of course it matters," Sam argued. "You're McKinley's first gay guy president."
"Nobody cares about that," Blaine retorted.
Kurt would've cared.
"Look," Sam said, "before you, Kurt was the first gay kid I met. And don't get me wrong, he's great, but I just don't really get his Bravo jokes or the fashion thing or Broadway."
Blaine didn't want to talk about Kurt, but he didn't want to stop Sam, either.
"With you and me, it's different, you know?" Sam told him. "Never had a... a gay bro before."
Blaine had to smile at that. Sam knew enough about him to know that they had things in common. Sam had noticed Blaine's bow tie and had thought enough of Blaine to suggest that he go without it to look more presidential.
"We'll be like Wolverine and Cyclops," Sam suggested. "You know? We'll show people how we're cool with each other, you know, and, if you ask me, that's what matters."
"Thanks, man," Blaine said as he stood up, feeling marginally better. "You're right. But, just so we're clear..."
"I'm Wolverine," they both said in unison.
"I said it first," Sam teased.
Blaine smiled and turned away, only to run directly into Brittany.
"Congratulations, Blaine Warbler," she said.
"Thank you, Britt," Blaine said before walking past her and straight out the back door – appropriately, Blaine thought, it was labeled as an emergency exit, but he knew it didn't have an alarm – into the fresh nighttime air.
Sam was nice. Marley was nice. Tina was nice. Artie was nice. They were all, generally, nice to him and accepting of him as a leader. But they didn't feel like friends.
"I don't have any friends," Blaine mused to himself as he walked to his car.
He felt like he didn't belong anywhere. He no longer felt connected to Dalton – not the Dalton that existed now – and he didn't feel connected to McKinley. Even as student body president and captain of New Directions, he felt like he was a new student trying to navigate an unfamiliar school.
He was trying to learn to navigate McKinley without Kurt. It felt impossible. Especially when it seemed like he was the last thing on Kurt's mind when Kurt was almost always the first thing on Blaine's mind.
As he climbed into his car, Blaine pulled his phone out of his pocket and was surprised to see that he had missed a text from Kurt.
Sorry I missed your call. Out with Isabelle tonight. How'd the election go? I hope you were calling to tell me that I need to start calling you Mr. President!
I miss you so, so much, Blaine typed into his phone.
Then he erased the sentence and sent, instead: We won! :)
Kurt's response was almost immediate. CONGRATULATIONS!
Blaine smiled. He was worrying for nothing. Kurt was just busy adjusting to his new life. It didn't mean he didn't care.
Oh my god, you're the first gay president of McKinley, Kurt added, and Blaine let his head fall back on the headrest of his car and closed his eyes until the phone vibrated again.
Of course you are, Kurt said. You're the smartest, nicest person I know.
Thank you, Blaine replied.
Oh, and Isabelle says congratulations, too! Kurt sent back.
Blaine dragged his free hand down his face. Kurt had just told Isabelle Wright about him winning the student body president election.
Thank you, thank you, thank you! he replied.
Gotta go! Kurt returned. Congrats again! I'm proud of you. Goodnight!
I love you, Blaine replied, even though he knew Kurt had stuffed his phone into his pocket as soon as he sent the message.
He listened to a news program on the radio as he drove home – it was still difficult for him to listen to music on the radio without thinking of Kurt as every song came on – and he thought he was feeling better until he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and definitely not sleeping.
Everything that he had feared was coming true. Kurt had gone off to a fabulous new life, full of excitement and glamour, and Blaine was trying to make things like student council and glee club feel important enough to fill the emotional void that Kurt's absence had caused. He was alone and Kurt didn't seem to care. Or even notice.
It bothered Blaine that he was starting to feel bitter about the way his life and Kurt's life were separating. Didn't he want Kurt to be doing everything that he was doing in New York? They had known that a year apart would be difficult, and Blaine hated himself for feeling so needy. Of course Kurt wasn't going to call him every day. What was there to talk about, anyway? The most exciting thing going on in Blaine's life was the student council election, and that didn't even excite Blaine, so why would Kurt want to hear about it?
Blaine rubbed his eyes with his palms and rolled over onto his side. In the darkness, he could just make out Kurt's face in a photograph on his dresser.
Regardless of how he should feel about it, the fact was that Blaine felt hurt and resentful about the way Kurt was acting like things were fine. And he didn't know what he should do.
KURT
Kurt was out extremely late with Isabelle and some of the other people from Vogue dot com. They went to dinner and then out for drinks – Kurt had a few non-alcoholic drinks that the bartender suggested – and karaoke. Much to Kurt's initial embarrassment, Isabelle roped him into a duet of Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway before the end of the night. Kurt had only agreed because she was his boss, but he was glad that he had done it when it was over. It was fun to sing again in a place that wasn't his empty apartment. And his co-workers had loved it.
Isabelle insisted on paying for a cab to take him back to his and Rachel's apartment in Bushwick because it was so late, and Kurt got his phone out while the taxi carried him toward home.
Sorry I missed your last text! he sent to Blaine. I love you too. Just had a crazy night. Was forced to sing karaoke and no, thank god, there is no video evidence.
When he finally arrived at the door to the apartment, Kurt realized that he was really, really tired. A hot shower and his soft, warm bed were so close...
As he slid the door closed behind him, he noticed a bag on the floor by the couch. And some men's shoes.
For a brief moment, he wondered if Rachel and Brody's dinner date had turned into something more and planned a few harsh words for his roommate about allowing strangers to sleep in their apartment without his consent or knowledge.
But then he realized that he recognized the shoes.
Finn.
Finn was here. In their apartment. In bed with Rachel, clearly, because the couch was empty and he knew that Rachel would never let anyone – even Finn – sleep in Kurt's bed without Kurt's permission.
When had Finn arrived? Why hadn't he called first? Kurt didn't know what to make of his step-brother's sudden appearance.
Kurt had the fastest shower of his life so he could hurry to bed and turn on his white noise machine. He knew there weren't walls in the apartment, but he had hoped for a little more time before he had to worry about Rachel having sex with anyone – especially his step-brother – with him in the apartment. He made a mental note to make absolutely sure that Rachel was never in the apartment when he and Blaine were intimate. It would be too awkward.
Three weeks! He texted Blaine before he climbed under his blankets and thought about all the things he needed to plan for Blaine's visit until he fell asleep.
I actually like this episode even more now after the whole season has played out... it really set the stage for Blaine and Sam's friendship and for Blaine's actions (well, as much as you can set up for something as out of character as what Blaine's about to do) in the next episode. But it's just really sad for Blaine, gosh. Poor guy! I think, at this point, things are still very in character for both Kurt and Blaine. Kurt tends to get engrossed in whatever thing he's doing and he can be neglectful of other things, even people he loves, as a result. Even though he still loves them just as much. And Blaine is very tenderhearted and takes rejection very personally and wants to belong but isn't entirely sure how despite the fact that he is so charismatic and sweet.
Also, do you realize that Kurt predicted this whole situation on the day that Blaine transferred to McKinley? "You didn't do this for me, did you? Because if you did this for me, I mean, it'd be very romantic for one, but, I mean, it could lead to resentment, which could lead to anger, which could lead to a horrible, horrible, nasty breakup."
Excellent continuity, right? But OUCH.
Up next... 4x04: The Break Up.