"Hi! I was just wondering when auditions were for the Warblers? Because I'd love to join!" Your forehead creases a little at quite how hard the shorter boy jumps when he hears your voice, but you shrug it off, offering your hand for him to shake. "I'm Kurt by the way – the new transfer."

"Oh, hi. I'm Blaine," but he ignores your proffered hand. You wince a little at the cool rejection – maybe Dalton boys just had a less detectable way of bullying. You start to worry the bottom of your lip with your teeth as you contemplate this, and a combination of that and you realising how absolutely gorgeous this guy is, causes you to completely miss the dates and times he reels off for the auditions.

"Um, sorry, I didn't quite catch all of that. So, Tuesday…?"
"No, silly," he chuckles, and you feel your mouth drop open at the sound of his laugh – rich and warm, like melted chocolate, "Wednesday at 4:30." You feel your cheeks flame bright red as you realise that your mouth is still open, and slam it closed with a snap. He starts a little at the sound, and you see a slight flush beginning to colour his own cheeks. You look at him, curiously, wondering why he's so embarrassed, before you come to the conclusion that it's because you're probably making such a fool of yourself. You try to meet his eyes in order to gauge quite how true your assumption had been, but he's studying the strap of his satchel rather too intently. You're about to make an, albeit flustered, exit when a small boy with a wild mess of curls comes running up, stumbling a little over his own feet.

"Blaine!" he calls in relief, and Blaine looks up at the sound of his name. "There you are! God, we were so worried! You can't just go off on one like that!"
"Geez, Reed! I'm not entirely incapable, you know!" he snaps, and you cock your head to the side in confusion.
"Who's your new friend?"
"Oh, this is Kurt – he wants to try out for the Warblers!" and his voice turns all bouncy and it makes your heart flutter.
"Awesome!" Reed enthuses, then he looks at you for a second, evaluating. "He's quite tall – taller than you," he suddenly says, turning to Blaine, "and he's got really light skin and chestnut-y hair … and a good fashion sense – I approve - … and he's blushing."
You blink in a mixture of confusion and chagrin and open your mouth to say something, but a glance at Blaine's face tells you all you need to know. His cheeks are still stained with colour, but his head is lifted defiantly and you can see his warm, honey-coloured eyes roam sightlessly around the hallway.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't realise …" and you tail off awkwardly as Blaine elbows Reed in the ribs and Reed lets out a slight laugh around the huff of air which escapes his lungs.
"That's okay," he says good-naturedly, "he's good at hiding it. Come on now, Blaine, or we're going to be late for English again." Blaine reaches out his hand, searchingly, and Reed takes it, securing it on his arm.
"It was nice to meet you, Kurt," Blaine says as they walk away.
"…You too!" you call too-late after their retreating backs. You're left standing in a rapidly emptying corridor, marvelling at how proud a figure Blaine cuts against the backdrop of the last few students rushing to lessons.

o~o~o

Wednesday, 4:30, that's what he said, right? And a minute ago you were a hundred per cent sure, but the more you think about it … was it Tuesday? You dismiss your doubts as you approach the door to what was coined the 'Warblers' Hall', pressing your ear to the wood as you try to sense any sort of movement within. Footsteps behind you make you start, guiltily, and you turn to apologise whoever it was that was going to accuse you of spying, but you choke on your words as you see Blaine striding confidently, if slowly, towards you, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Kurt?" and he says it like a question that he already knows the answer to.
"Hi Blaine!" and you wince at how falsely bright you sound. You stop a moment, afraid of being rude, but your curiosity gets the better of you. "How did you …?"
"How did I know it was you?" and the wry twist of his mouth tells you this isn't the first time he's been asked. "Well, I recognised your breathing." You just stare at him blankly for a moment before you remember that he can't see your facial expression. Right. You open your mouth to speak, but he ploughs on regardless. "That and the fact that hardly anyone comes down here when there isn't a performance except the Warblers, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be sneaking around like you," but he smiles to soften his words and you feel your breathing speed up.

"Are you okay?" he asks because, goddammit he can hear your breathing, and you nod like an idiot before hurrying to articulate.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine – just nervous, you know?"
"Don't be," he says, brushing past you and opening the door with graceful ease. He holds it open, gesturing for you to go through, and you feel the blush heating your cheeks again as you stutter out a 'thank you'. You're slightly surprised to see that the hall is empty, and you turn around to ask, but he's already one step ahead of you. "Yeah – the Warblers trust me enough to sort the wheat from the chaff, if you know what I mean. You've got to get past me if you want a full audition." And the little smirk on his face is like a challenge – a ridiculously attractive challenge – but a challenge nonetheless. You realise it's pointless, but you put your game face on.