Kurt Hummel was tired. Tired of having to avoid a slushie facial everyday. Of not being challenged by the easier-than-average work assigned at McKinley. Tired of the dull, apathetic town that was Lima.

But most of all, he was tired of being lonely.

He knew he was destined for great things. Having to grow up in a town like Lima led Kurt to believe that it could only get better from there. He'd leave, travel to New York, become a big star on Broadway…or worldly renowned for his fabulous fashion designs.

What Kurt wanted most of all, however, was for somebody to be standing by his side as he achieved all these great things. He wanted to be able to thank that special someone while giving his Tony acceptance speech, someone to squeeze his hand and peck him on the cheek as he stood up to graciously bow on the runway featuring his latest fashion creations.

The reality of it all was that, for now, Kurt was stuck in Lima. Still a senior at McKinley, working as a barista at a quaint coffee shop called The Lima Bean; he would have to patiently wait a whole year to fulfill all his desires.
With or without that special someone he so longed for.

"I asked for three sugars…this tastes like one! I want to see the manager!"

Kurt sighed, counted to three, and took a deep breath. There was no point in arguing with the elderly woman; the sooner he was rid of her, the better.

"I apologise profusely ma'am. My manager isn't available at the moment, but if you'd allow me two minutes, I can whip you up another one right now." Kurt replied, flashing her what he hoped was an amiable smile. The woman nodded curtly, shuffled back to her seat, all the while muttering about 'poor customer service'.

Rolling his eyes and heaving yet another sigh, Kurt set to work on remaking the coffee. Despite the chill autumn air outside, The Lima Bean's heating was turned up high, and so he was feeling quite stifled in the small shop. Making sure to add three sugars this time, (even though he was quite certain he had done just that in the first place) Kurt placed the cup onto a serving tray.
When nobody came to retrieve the tray, he stormed into the backroom, knowing full well that his co-worker, Santana, would be smoking in there.

"Santana! Get up off your ass and do your job for once!" Kurt huffed angrily, slamming open the door. "And stop that, it's bad for you, and you know it!"
Grabbing the cigarette out of her fingers, he threw it onto the ground and stomped on it, turning to glare at her, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"Calm down Lady Face, the shop's pretty much empty. I'm sure you can take on two customers on your own." She rolled her eyes, and stood up. "Fuck, you need to get laid." Pushing past him, she walked out and slammed the door behind her, leaving Kurt alone in the backroom.

Rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers, Kurt let out an angry grumble, took a deep breath, opened the door, and bumped smack-bang into someone- a man- causing him to slip and fall flat on his back.

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going- I spilt coffee on myself and I was looking for a bathroom to rinse out this stain and-" the man rambled on, before Kurt cut him off.

"Look, it's okay. Could you just help me up, please?"
The man (Teenager? He didn't look much older than Kurt.) nodded, extended his hand, and it was then that Kurt was able to get a proper look at him- and holy non-existent god above- he couldn't look away.

The stranger had black, carefully gelled hair and honey-brown eyes that sparkled in the dim lighting of the Lima Bean. With a light tan and muscles straining underneath the coffee-stained, grey t-shirt- the stranger was incredibly handsome.

Brushing off whatever dust particles that may have clung to his clothes as he had fallen, Kurt uttered a thank-you to the stranger as he was helped up. He flashed a dashing smile at Kurt, and he felt himself blush.

"Sorry again. Are you okay? I'm Blaine by the way." The stranger, Blaine, flashed Kurt yet another dashing smile, causing his heart to flutter.
"I'm fine. I'm-I'm okay." Kurt stuttered. Get a grip. He's probably straight.
"Well, 'I'm okay', it looks to me you're having a pretty bad day." Blaine grinned.
"I didn't mean- I meant- I'm Kurt…my name is Kurt."
Kurt felt his face redden; embarrassed, knowing that he was making a fool of himself. Blaine let out a chuckle- gosh, if that wasn't the sexiest sound he'd ever heard- and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm just kidding around. You need a break."

Somehow, Blaine had convinced Kurt to take his break early, much to the respite of Santana- "Fuck, go ahead, he's driving me nuts." They'd ordered coffees for themselves, a medium drip for Blaine, grande non-fat mocha for Kurt, and chosen a table near their meeting place,
Kurt decided that he really, really, liked Blaine. Although it was slightly awkward at first, the conversation between them had eased into such things as their shared passion of music, love for performing and places they'd like to visit someday. Once or twice, Kurt had caught Blaine staring at him, and when he'd done so a third time, Kurt began to feel anxious.

"Is there something on my face? Between my teeth, what is-" he began, before being cut off by Blaine.
"No, no! You just…you just have really beautiful eyes. And-and they keep changing. I can't decide if they're blue or green or grey."
Kurt blushed furiously, taking a sip out of his cup to hide the fact that he most probably resembled a tomato at that moment.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be creepy, I just… appreciate beauty." Blaine said, blushing.
"It's fine. Thank you." Kurt replied, cheeks still tinged with a rosy pink.

Kurt wasn't exactly sure how it'd happened. One minute, he was rinsing out the stain off of Blaine's shirt in the sink in the backroom, Blaine patiently waiting in his undershirt, making idle conversation and occasionally exchanging blushing glances, the next, their mouths were pressed against one another in a frenzied kiss, Blaine's tongue sliding in against Kurt's as if they were in battle, feverish and needy.

He'd never experienced anything like it- he felt so wanted- the way Blaine's hand's were wrapped around the small of Kurt's back, and now his lips were pressed against Kurt's neck, lustful kisses, and oh that's going to leave a mark-their bodies pressed against each other, and suddenly Blaine was extending his hand lower- and how did they even get here, but it just felt so good - closer and closer until-

The door slammed open. "Kurt, your breaks over, and I- oh, wanky." Santana stood, one hand placed on her hip, staring intently. Kurt and Blaine broke apart, both panting hard, caught in the act.
"Wow, Hummel, you work fast!" Santana grinned mischeviously.
"Go away Satan. I was just helping Blaine-" Santana interrupted his attempted explanation with a loud guffaw.

"Helping him get off, more like."
Kurt buried his face in his hands, while Blaine chuckled lightly.
"I should get going…um, could I get your number…Kurt?" he said, and Kurt could hear the reticence in his voice- it was adorable. Santana whistled loudly, and Kurt pushed her out the door, catching something about 'coming back for seconds!'

Rolling his eyes at Santana's crudeness, Kurt smiled at Blaine. "I'd like that."

As they exchanged numbers and goodbyes, Kurt thought about what had just happened. He was extremely giddy with excitement.
Someone had taken an interest in him. And not just anyone- that someone,Blaine, was an Adonis- breathtakingly handsome and charming and witty and everything Kurt had always, always wanted.

This year was already shaping up to be pretty neat for one Kurt Hummel.

Kurt sat in his English Literature class, trying to keep himself from falling asleep. He and Blaine had been exchanging funny jokes & flirty texts until 2AM last night, and since he'd had to get up at 6:30 for his moisturizing routine, Kurt had not gotten much sleep at all as a result.
Yawning, his mind wondered as to where Miss Meyers could be. It had already been 10 minutes, and she was never late. Kurt hoped she'd show up- he wanted to hand in his essay on 'To Kill a Mockingbird' early.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the sound of chalk scrawling against the blackboard. He hadn't noticed the door opening, or whoever it was come in, and so Kurt sat up straight and attempted to be attentive.

As he blinked away the tiredness, Kurt fixated on reading what was being written on the blackboard.

September 7th 2012

English Literature: To Kill A Mockingbird

Mr. Anderson

Okay, nothing new there. Miss Meyers was probably sick or something, and this new guy was subbing. Kurt's eyes focused onto the substitute. Navy sweater, beige slacks, brown oxfords- the sub was dressed reasonably well. Not enoughpizazz for Kurt's liking, but it wasn't so bad.
And then he noticed the sub's hair- black and curly, tamed down with slick gel-wait a minute-

"Hello students, my name is Mr. Anderson, and I'll be your English Lit teacher until the end of the year." He smiled pleasantly at the class. "Miss Meyers has been called away due to personal reasons, which we won't get into. I hope you can-"
Kurt knew why the substitute had stopped his speech so abruptly.

Mr. Anderson.
Mr. Blaine Anderson.
Blaine.

Their eyes were focused on each other, stunned expressions plastered upon their faces. And then suddenly their attention was turned towards a voice coming from the back of the room-

"Oh my GOD."

Looking back at each other, eyes wide open, Kurt and Blaine both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

"Santana knows."