If asked, Kurt would readily admit that he had not really prepared for this. Agreeing was one thing, but truthfully, until the call had arrived confirming the time and date for his performance, he had not given it much thought. He hadn't wanted to and so he had pushed it into the recesses of his mind. And, even when he knew what was to come, he didn't bother to do much. It wasn't that he regretted the decision he had made. He just didn't think that he should put so much of his energy into this, not when the finals for the Acapella competition was the week after. He had his priorities straight after all.

But, when he had entered the Senior Commons Room that Mr. Kentwood had deliberately booked for this, he briefly regretted not putting more thought into this. He silently thanked the man as he took a seat after the woman waved to one. This was his room, his turf, the place where he had had some of his best experiences. That space behind the woman? He and Jeff regularly spread out there in their free moments, looking up at the decorated ceiling as they talked about everything and anything. That expansive window to her right? He and Blaine had cuddled countless times there as they stared out below. The room in its entirety? This was where his Warblers - his family - gathered officially three times a week. This room represented a second, intimate home to him. He had nothing to fear in here. The tension he had felt upon seeing the woman's expression faded away, and so he was able to meet her gaze confidently.

"Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mrs. Tibedeaux," he said by way of greeting.

"Likewise, Mr. Hummel," she responded, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. "Now usually this is where I would invite you to sing, but your situation thus far has been a bit...unorthodox and there are some things I would like to find out beforehand."

"That's fine," he agreed, giving her a wry smile, "I guess it's unusual for someone to have an application sent in for them."

"Extremely," she agreed, flipping through a file on her lap, "it was unusual enough that it was forwarded directly to me, and, I must admit, when I saw the tape of your performance, my curiosity was aroused."

"What performance was that?" he asked. "I never did find out what was sent."

"You were taped performing "Blackbird"."

Kurt's lips quirked at that. That performance had been dedicated to the - at that time - recently deceased Parvotti, and Kurt would admit now it was a bit embarrassing how emotional they had all gotten over the death of a tiny bird. "Oh."

"What struck me about that performance," she said, "was the raw vulnerability in your voice that yet, somehow had an underlying strength to it. There was something in that song of yours, something quite amazing, almost as if you yourself were being wooed by your own song. I wanted to experience that in person."

"Thank you," Kurt said simply.

"I'm hoping you have something similarly meaningful to sing for me today."

The vague ideas of what he should sing suddenly concretised into a solid idea. Briefly Kurt considered the USB in his pocket, filled with melodies he had acquired over the course of the school year. There were a few in there that could work, he quickly thought, but his mind kept drifting back to one song in particular. As his mind returned yet again to the song, a smile curved on his lips. Fine, he thought, he would sing it.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm doing this without any accompaniment," he said, rising from his seat. "Dalton has spoiled me that way. I've come to enjoy the simplicity of it."

The woman only nodded shortly and Kurt took a few steps back, closing his eyes for a long moment, thinking back to that night after he had found out about all of this, and that song that, in the middle of his musings, had started wafting from his next door neighbour's house. It had seemed perfectly timed, and it was that song that had finally encouraged him to put it all aside to dwell upon another next. It had reminded him that he wasn't alone in his decision and that he should not stress about it. And so, even though he had never sung it before, his lips parted, and he began. The words for "I Want To Hold Your Hand" left him easily, and even when he opened his eyes and looked at the woman's impassive face, he saw not her, but his own face, the face of his younger self who had listened to those very words back then with tears racing down his cheeks, back when everything was topsy-turvy, when he had realised that now he no longer had his dad to himself and wondered if he would come to prefer Finn to him. To that version of himself who was hated for being gay and wondered if he would ever have his chance at love. To the version of him that cried while telling himself that he was forever alone.

Kurt sang to that version of him, and envisioned his younger self looking at him with shock, whole and yet broken, taking in this version of himself who, through his words, was urging him not to give up, to realise that all he had to do was open himself up and he would find someone, find so many people who would willing take his hand and help him find himself out of that abyss. There were people who did and would love him for who he was, and that he didn't need to bury himself under all of those layers - beautiful layers though they be - as a defensive mechanism.

By the time Kurt warbled out the last note, and refocussed entirely on the now, he was a bit surprised to find his vision slightly blurry. He let out a soft chuckle as he blinked back the moisture, before looking at Mrs. Tibedeaux. She met his gaze for a long moment, and then, to his shock, she smiled, actually smiled at him.

"And that is what I saw that day on the tape," she told him honestly, "why I simply had to meet you. Come, sit. Let us chat for a bit more okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Kurt replied and took the seat, a bit stunned at that response.

"I won't pry into your motivation," she told him, "that we will get into at a later time. Based on your school records, I noted that there was a year-long gap between you participating in a glee club. Might I enjoy as to the cause of this?"

"I was attacked," he replied easily, used to telling the story now. "It's why I had to transfer here. I had been practicing and two of my bullies attacked and stabbed me. The mere thought of singing, far less performing, was enough to terrify me back then. It wasn't until my boyfriend's club - well my club now - was in crisis that I managed to sing again, and it's gotten easier and easier to from that point on."

"Incredibly easy if your Regional performance was anything to go by."

"You saw that?" he asked, with a laugh.

"I did. There are often talent scouts at such competitions and one of my associates forwarded it to me. It was a pleasant surprise to recognise you among the singers. You managed to stand out in that group of yours, even without a clearly defined solo performance."

"Thank you."

"Other than your last performance, you seem to have a preference for your upper singing register. Why?"

"It's easier for me," he admitted, wondering if it would come across as him being lazy. "But I have worked more on my lower range recently."

"Care to illustrate?"

And so he did, this time, after brief consideration, singing "Being Alive".

The end of his performance this time was met by actual applause from her, something that caused Kurt to wonder idly if this was truly reality. Was this interview actually going well?

"Why didn't you apply to NYADA on your own?" she inquired. "You clearly have some knowledge and interest in musicals."

"I didn't think it was possible now. I decided to focus on my other strengths once I graduated."

"Why isn't it possible?"

"My arm."

"Broken bones heal."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at that. He recalled a reporter who had covered both Sectionals and Regionals and had asked after the fact what he was doing to keep that arm of his broken for so long. The man's face when he had explained the truth had been quite amusing.

"My arm was paralysed in the attack I mentioned," he explained, "and I'm not guaranteed to ever regain a full range of motion. I can't exactly be a Broadway performer with a renegade arm, now can I?"

"Renegade?"

His lip twitching a bit, Kurt reached up to the clip around his neck and released the sling. He endured the few seconds it took the woman to look at his arm which immediately decided to celebrate its freedom with a few extra spasms before restraining it again.

"I...see..."

And it was now that she was going to thank him for his time and politely rebuff him, he thought, bracing himself for it.

"You do know that there is a growing movement to incorporate differently abled persons into theatre now? Or is it that your passions have changed that much?"

"There is?"

"There is," she confirmed. "The world is starting to celebrate diversity and the Theatre must follow the trend if it wishes to remain relevant in the long run. Does knowing this affect your stance?"

"I- I love performing," he said carefully, "my boyfriend took me to see Wicked in December and I fell in love with Broadway all over again. I did want to be an actor, badly. But, ever since this, I started to search out and focus on my other interests. Fashion and journalism are two of them. I always had a thought that maybe I could at least be a costume designer for a production, since acting seemed out. But even that is a bit farfetched."

"Would you still study it if you could?"

"I did consider taking up a few of the theory courses in college if it was feasible," he said honestly.

"And NYADA doesn't fit into that plan? We do offer primarily reading degrees alongside performance based ones. We also have partner programmes with other New York based colleges. I'm certain we have a few students who are doing journalism courses with the aim of becoming critics. It is an option if you're absolutely certain that acting and singing is not where you want to be."

Kurt stared at her, confused by the level of detail she was giving, and by what she was saying. He had not even known about all of that. But then again, he and Rachel really hadn't looked at the school past its musical performance department back in the day. "I didn't know all of that."

"Would you have applied had you known that?"

"I might have," he stated honestly.

"Then, it's probably a good thing that someone else did that for you," she told him with a small smile.

A minute part of Kurt could not help but agree with her on that sentiment.