A/N: Hey guys! Dreaming-chan here once again. I try to keep the ideas outta my head, but while reading the amusing fanfic, 'If I Traded It All' by BreeZombiee, I came up with this idea. It's technically another future!fic, except this one is COLLEGE. Hurray!

And yes, this will be rated M because eventually things will get heated. Huhuhu. In the meantime, enjoy the tame angsty-ness that is forced-into-a-situation!Karomel.


Prologue.

Dearest Daddy and Carole,

I've always felt like Elphaba: an outcast in my school for how I look, how I act, wanting to be free. And yet I feel quite sympathetic with Glinda at the moment, because I simply cannot stand who my assigned roommate is, since he's such a complete and utter jerk who lacks fashion sense and creditability.

I can't believe this is happening to me! I tried to bargain with the RA and just about anybody else in charge, trying to explain how much I detest, despise, hate, and loathe the guy they roomed me with in my two-person dormitory, but they insist that all of the other rooms are already filled and they have an uneven number of males and females, and despite how much I insisted that I was gay and could easily (and even preferably!) room with a girl, they told me that plenty of guys lie and say that and sleep with the girls. Aren't they afraid that if I were telling the truth, I'd just sleep with the guy I room with?

I tried to get them to switch me out for another guy in another room, but no, it seems that everybody except me is totally fine with their roomies. Apparently, boys in this school don't give a rat's tail about rooming, and never make a fuss. Except me. Gaga, why does it have to be me? And why does my roommate have to be him?

It's my former bully, Dave Karofsky, in case you were wondering. And yes, Dad, I know you will probably leap at the throats of the housing department as soon as you read this letter and spot the Neanderthal's name, but I assure you, they won't care. They won't even look you in the eyes as they flippantly remark, "Housing is full. No swaps, no alterations. Have a good day," in a flat voice. I know, because I've dragged plenty of people there with me, including Finn and Rachel and even asking a favor of Mr. Shue and Emma (she lets me call her by her first name now that I've graduated. It's nice).

I digress.

The point is, I am very unhappy, but I'm much stronger as a person thanks to Dalton Academy, and while I'm beginning to question how Karofsky got into this prestigious school like I did without having someplace like Dalton to support him, I will continue to stick this out and give you frequent updates on the horrifying arrangement.

With love,

Kurt.

P.S. I dislike sounding childish, but… Dad? Could you send Bunny-Hops, my old stuffed rabbit? You know, the white one with the chocolate-tipped ears and scuffed pink nose? A quick run through the washer and dryer to clean him up and fluff him should be enough, and then I'd love to have him with me. I need the comfort of home without being there, and, I don't know… I won't leave it out or let him see, but I just want to know that I have it with me, you understand. Some peppermints would be nice, too. I can't buy any for myself right now, but I'm craving them. Thanks.

And with a tap of his index finger, Kurt sends the e-mail to both of his parents' accounts, praying that at least one of them remembers to check their accounts and reads his desperate vent letter.