ELLIOTT

Elliott didn't see much of Kurt the following weeks, as even One Three Hill practise was on temporary hiatus so that Kurt could prepare for NYADA's Midwinter Critiques. They still texted a lot, of course, but Dani had stopped giving Elliott meaningful looks and tapping her watch, probably figuring that if Kurt didn't have time for his band, he didn't have time to get snatched up by another guy either.

And that was good, because Elliott really ought to be focusing on something other than Kurt right now: such as figuring out how to pay his rent. He had applied for several jobs and had been invited for a few interviews. He was now waiting to hear back from them, but even if he did get one of them, his first check wouldn't be coming in until next month.

Elliott sighed and stared at the list in front of him. It was the product of an hour of brainstorming and listed everything he currently spent money on. He had already cancelled yoga class and his magazine subscriptions, and he had stopped taking the subway, but it wasn't enough. His savings from last summer's plethora of summer jobs ought to have tided him over until Christmas, but several unforeseen things had happened (as they always did) and now that money was almost gone.

His cheap sewing machine had died, beyond repair. With all his projects, he couldn't afford not to have one, so it had to be replaced. Together with Kurt, he had scoured the Chelsea flea markets and found an ancient Husqvarna in perfect condition. It set him back 175$, but the heavy duty piece of machinery was far superior to the newer, electronic devices- if he ever needed to sew his way through a bolt of sailing canvas, denim or leather, the motor wouldn't so much as overheat. It was heavy as a ton of bricks, and he and Kurt had taken turns carrying the case to his place. There was something decisively steampunk about oiling the parts. Elliott loved it, but that love had a price tag.

He had also needed to call the plumber once (during the weekend, why was it always the weekend when stuff broke down?) and his landlord had refused to pay for it. Like a functioning, non-leaking shower wasn't an actual necessity. Elliott didn't complain too much about it though, figuring he needed the guy's goodwill soon enough. Still, that took another bite out of his funds.

He had also been spending more money on clothes than he should have. It was hard not to while hanging out with Kurt. His enthusiasm was infectious and he had a great eye for bargains. The problem with bargains, though, was that they still cost money. Elliott also didn't want to be the guy who never picked up the tab when they all went out. Having a social life on a budget was hard.

After Elliott had gone over the list one more time, he knew he had no other choice. He would have to give up his storage box.

When his mother remarried and moved in with Mr. How Will You Get A Job With All Those Tattoos, she had given Elliott an ultimatum. He had a week to come pick up his stuff that was still at her house - and go through his late father's belongings for keepsakes-, or she'd throw it all out. Elliott had ended up loading a rental car full of competition awards, video tapes of performances, various instruments and costumes, a large amplifier and as much of his dad's book collection as he could fit into the car.

With no real place to put all of it, he had ended up renting storage as a short-term solution. And as most short-term solutions tended to do, it had turned into a long-term thing. But at 65$ a month, it had to go. Maybe he should even sell some of the stuff in there. He hadn't used the amp in years, and he was probably never going to have time to read all those books. It was going to be rough, but Kurt was super savvy with selling things through ebay. It was that, or do away with his vinyl collection and that was like, never happening!

Elliott looked at his uncluttered apartment (okay, the shelves in the living room were a mess but the rest was exactly the way he wanted it) and wondered where to put it all. He let out a long sigh and resigned himself to his fate. He had ten more days- the storage's notice- to decide what to do with the stuff.