The streets of New York were always a mad house, and no less could be said for the subway system. For Kurt Hummel, who had been guiding himself through them since college, it wasn't so bad anymore. Keep your bag close, your head down and weave like crazy. He'd been out of college for almost a year now, gotten a job writing for Marie Claire. It was a small fashion column every month, but it paid well and it was something he found he really enjoyed. Kurt would always have a passion for the stage, but once he got to school, he found his love the for the costumes and the fashion of New York was much stronger.

There was always someone performing in the subways, normally the same hippie music, someone butchering the classics, but every once and a while, there would be someone that stood out. It was one of those rare days that Kurt looked up from his phone. He'd been texting Rachel to meet him for lunch, since she didn't have to be to her show till later. There was a light, happy voice echoing through the subway and at first, Kurt couldn't place it.

Wandering around the platform, he finally saw the man standing with his guitar case open. His curls were a little matted, face scruffy, but the eyes on him trapped you. No, maybe it was his voice. He strummed away at his guitar, not caring if the world stopped and listened or not. It was odd for a street performer to look his carefree. He must have been new and young. Kurt could only guess he was his age, maybe younger.

He was amazing. He captured Kurt's attention so well, he almost missed his ride. Swearing Kurt ran past the player, dropped a bill into the case and moved to catch the train as it pulled up. He didn't notice the music stop as he got on and took a seat, exhaling in relief. A few minutes later the doors started to close, the last passenger jumping on just in time.

Kurt had leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes as he caught his breath. However he opened them when he got that feeling that he was being watched. Opening his eyes, he jumped a little, seeing the boy from the train platform standing there, watching him. He too, seemed to be out of breath.

"Excuse me," he said, holding his hand out. "You dropped this in my case and I think you might have been mistaken." Kurt frowned, taking the bill back. A 50. Yeah, he didn't really mean to do that. A five, yes. The boy smiled. "I mean, it's a great tip, but I wouldn't feel right keeping it..."

"Thanks," Kurt said, tucking the cash back in his pocket, before he searched for the five he meant to give him. "Here-" but as he looked up, the boy was gone. He searched the whole car, but he seemed to just vanish. Or maybe he got off at this stop. Kurt didn't even realize they'd stopped. Before long the doors closed and they were off again.

Reaching the city, Kurt was still thinking about the subway singer. His talent was far greater then being trapped below the city to sing for pennies. Maybe if he cleaned up a little, he could get a real job. Or, perhaps he couldn't get a real job. Was he homeless? He looked it a little. Weren't most of the subway singers though? Why was this bothering him so much today.

"Hello? Earth to Kurt?" Rachel called after him. He'd walked right past her on the street. He stopped and turned back, chuckling.

"Ahh, sorry Rachel." Walking up to her, he gave her a hug, before they made their way into the restaurant. "It was a bit of a hectic morning."

"Are you all right? Did something happen?" She told the host a table for two and he lead them over to the windows so they could people watch while they ate.

"Oh! Nothing bad no. I.. there was this guy-"

"Oh really?" she smiled, leaning in to hear more.

"Rachel, please. It's not like that. He was in the subway singing..."

"Oh."

"He was REALLY good. Like, he shouldn't be singing on the streets." Kurt opened his menu, looking at his choices.

"Well not everyone can make it big in the city, Kurt. I lucked out and you would have too if you stayed in the theater classes. Our professor really thought you had talent."

"Rachel, I love the theater. I love singing, but I love this job. I will return to the stage someday whether it be singing or costuming. But this guy... seriously. And then! He followed me because I dropped a 50 in his case! Of course I didn't really mean to, but he could have just taken it. He gave it back. What New Yorker do you know that would do that? Especially one that's slumming it?" Rachel sipped her water, eyes wide at this new information.

"Well, maybe he's not as bad off as you think. There was this violinist that played in the D.C. subways, just for the fun of it, but he was really famous. Tickets to his concerts went for hundreds of dollars and everyone in that subway couldn't be bothered to stop and listen to him. Maybe you were just part of an experience."

Kurt shook his head. It wasn't that. Somehow he knew this man was no professional. There was just something about him, Kurt couldn't keep off his mind.

By the end of lunch, the two said their goodbyes, Kurt promising to come see Rachel in her show before the week was up. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he stepped back out onto the street. And then he heard that sweet melody again.

His eyes scanned the busy streets of New York, trying to find him. There was people everywhere, performers, people with fliers. No, he didn't want to see a comedy show, no he didn't want a stupid bus tour of the city. The longer he looked, the farther he got from the music, until before long it just stopped. He was losing his mind. Why was he so obsessed.

Giving up, Kurt made his way back to the subway so he could head back into work. It was a long day at the office, looking up prints for the spring season, trying to finish the December addition of the magazine. Horrible Holiday Wear was going to be a top article. Despite all the awful holiday music playing through the office, Kurt couldn't help but hum the tune from this afternoon.

Later that evening, Kurt stepped back out onto the busy New York streets to head home. He was bringing his work home with him tonight just to make sure he could get it done. Kurt made it down to the train, just in time to head back to his apartment. All the while on the ride, he told Rachel to break a leg, text his father that he would call him later since he'd been avoiding it for the last week. Kurt got to his stop and stepped off the train, his ears flooded by the awful performers from before. It seemed his mystery, shaggy man had stayed uptown for the night.

Moving up the steps of the station, he made it back out onto the street, making his way off towards his building. That's when he heard the song from this morning being played. Kurt froze where he was, trying to juggle his phone and the folders in his arms. There weren't a lot of people out right now, so finding him this time would be easier.

Making his way down the street, he finally saw the guitar case open and the man sitting on the ground, playing away. It wasn't as enthusiastic as that morning, but then again, he'd most likely been playing all day long. At least now, Kurt's conscience would be clear. He could leave his tip like he intended and then move on with his life. Perhaps that's what had been bothering him about this day. Walking up to the guitar player, he managed to reach into his pocket and drop the fiver into the case.

"That's from this morn-" Kurt smiled, but stopped when he got a good look at the man. There was blood dripping down from his hairline, face bruised to hell. He still had thank sweet sparkle in his eye, but he was hurt. Kurt dropped his things and knelled in front him. "Oh my God! What happened to you?" Why did he care so much?

Even the man seemed a little taken by Kurt's reaction. "Um.. one of the other homeless people tried to take my guitar to pawn it. It happens all the time.."

"All the time? You get beat up like this? Why aren't you home, or someplace having this looked at?" Kurt went through his bag now, trying to find a tissue or something he could blot the wound with.

"I don't have a place or insurance. Are you new to New York? I don't think I've ever seen a real New Yorker give a crap about a homeless person like this," he chuckled, moving Kurt's hand away.

"I- I'm from Ohio, but I've lived here for the last five years. And anyone with a heart would give a crap if they saw someone hurt on the streets. You really don't have anyplace to go?"

"I sleep at the churches. Such is the life of a penny-less guitar player," he smiled, moving Kurt's hand away. Kurt sat back on his knees, trying to feel this guy out.

It was freezing outside, he was hurt. Kurt knew the churches in New York were drafty as hell in the winter. Yes, he was a good Ohio boy that still had compassion. "Come to my apartment." He said it before he could stop himself. He started to collect his things, but the other didn't move. "Come on! Pack up, let's go. I'm not leaving you out here."

"I.. you don't even know who I am. Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know but I'm stubborn as hell and I will drag you down the street if I have to. You need some ice, maybe stitches, but I can't tell in the pitch black. Now up." Kurt stood, watching him for a moment, until finally the boy pushed himself up and packed up his guitar.

"Thank you. My name is Blaine." Blaine swung his case over his shoulder, holding his hand out to Kurt.

"Kurt. Now come on," he said giving it an awkward shake. "I'm just down the street." The homeless man followed him like a puppy down the street. Unlocking the door to the building, Kurt lead him upstairs to his small apartment. It was a decent place. A loft, very open. What caught Kurt's attention was the windows that looked out over the city. You could see the edge of the park. Kurt turned the lights on and dropped his things. "Sit on the couch, I'll be right back," he said moving to the bathroom to bring out everything he had.

Coming back in the room, Blaine had taken off his jacket and shoes. He was in a tight t-shirt and jeans, pushing his curls out of his face. Now that Kurt got a good look at him, he was extremely good looking. He was staring and had to shake himself. How was someone this talented, this gorgeous, homeless? Something didn't add up. Clearing his throat, he walked back into the living room, sitting on the coffee table across from Blaine and put everything down.

"You going to perform surgery?" Blaine joked.

"Why? Do you think you need it?" Kurt asked, not so much with the joking.

"I.. I don't think so?"

"Oh, good." Kurt sighed and pushed Blaine's hair back, looking at the wound on his head. "I don't think it's that deep, but I'll clean it out. Then you can go take a shower." Blaine just nodded and let Kurt work. Whatever he put on his eye stung like crazy, but he didn't flinch to bad. Once he was done with that, he looked over his bruises on his face. What he was really doing was checking him out.

"Everything look all right?" Blaine asked.

"Perfect.. UM yeah," Kurt stammered, pulling back. "Yeah. Why don't you shower. Warm up a little, you're freezing. I'll make some dinner," Kurt said, getting up.

"You really don't have to go to the trouble. Patching me up was nice enough," Blaine said standing. "I don't want to bother you anymore."

"Why would you think you're bothering me? I asked you to come here and now I am asking you to shower off. You're not bothering me." Kurt left it at that and moved to the kitchen to make something quick for dinner. Blaine disappeared into his bathroom and the moment he was gone, Kurt dashed for his phone. Quickly, he text Rachel.

I've done something really stupid...

Checking the time, he knew she had just started the show and wouldn't be able to reply till later. By then, what he was doing might be even stupider. Finishing up dinner, the bathroom door opened and Blaine walked out, looking much cleaner.

"I hope you don't mind, I shaved, clipped my hair a little." It still had some serious curls to it, but it was out of his face now. He looked even younger without the scruff on his face.

"That's fine. Hungry?" He held up the bowls of pasta and walked back out to the living room to pass one to Blaine.

Blaine thanked him, eyeing the pillows and blankets on the couch. "Um... were you expecting someone?"

Kurt blinked before he looked back to the couch. "Oh, um, no. I was... well that's for you. You said you slept at the church, but I thought, maybe you would like to stay someplace a little warmer tonight."

"Kurt, this.." Blaine didn't know what to do with so much kindness. It was new to him. A little uncomfortable. It had been a long time since someone cared about his well being. "You don't-"

"And you don't have to stay. But I figured it was the least I could do."

"For what?" Kurt blushed at Blaine's question. Good question. And he was certain there was a good answer. Kurt took a big bite of food, thinking it over while the other watched him. Swallowing, Kurt licked his lip.

"For the confusion this morning regarding your tip. This is my way of making up for it. Shower, meal and place to sleep." That was a pretty good answer for being on the spot. Blaine, however, just laughed as he started to eat.

"You're the first to go to all this trouble. And I've been singing on the corners for a while."

"Why?" Kurt asked and then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry you don't have to answer that." Why was he being so awkward?

"It's okay. I do it because I like to eat. Because everyone needs to make a living somehow. It's not as awful as you think. I still make some decent money." Just not steady money.

"That's fair. I guess I just don't see how someone as talented as you can be trapped on corners."

"You don't know that I'm talented," Blaine said, finishing up his meal. "You've only heard one song."

"Sometimes, that's all it takes," Kurt said. They stared at each other a moment, before Kurt collected their bowls. "Spend the night and you can leave in the morning. Sound fair?"

"Sure," Blaine said, laying back on the couch.

Kurt did the dishes before taking up space on the counter to get to work. Blaine had taken his guitar out and started to play quietly. It wasn't that it was hard to concentrate while he was doing it, it was just that Kurt couldn't stop listening. His voice was so smooth, his playing was flawless. He was like one of those miracle acts you saw on American Idol or X Factor. Kurt had to rip himself away from listening and work on his article.

Somewhere along the way, Blaine had stopped playing and Kurt immediately caught on. Moving away from the computer, he walked over to the couch, seeing Blaine had fallen asleep. Taking the blanket off the back of the couch, he laid it over him and watched him for a moment.

That was, until his text message sound echoed in the loft. Hissing, he scrambled for his bag, trying to find his phone. He had five texts from Rachel.

WHAT?

WHAT MISTAKE?

ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?

WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME?

KURT I'M COMING OVER!

Kurt took his phone to the bathroom and closed the door, dialing Rachel quickly.

"KURT!" she yelled into the phone. "I'm on my way there. What happened? Are you-"

"Rachel you don't have to come over," Kurt said quietly, sitting on the closed toilet.

"Why? What's wrong?"

Kurt sighed, closing his eyes.

"There's a homeless man on my couch..."