Two and a Half Years Later

A big ball of nerves was gathered in Kurt's stomach as he stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him. For the last few weeks, he had tried to keep the butterflies at bay, but every time he thought of beginning his classes at NYADA – the school he had been longing to go to, dreaming about, and working toward for two years now – he felt like he could faint.

He couldn't believe it was finally here. Classes began tomorrow. A year late perhaps, but finally, finally he had made it. Kurt was lost in thought, harkening on the journey that had bought him to where he was now.

He remembered with some resentment his first NYADA audition, performing "Not the Boy Next Door" for Carmen Tibideaux, her commendation and then receiving his rejection letter.

The heartbreak he felt at losing what he thought at the time was his only chance at escaping Lima washed over him, leaving him with a tightness in his chest. All those lonely, slightly bitter months after graduation working at the Lima Bean and performing in two-bit productions at the local community theater to boost his application for the next semester of NYADA.

He then thought back fondly on the "intervention" his dad and Rachel had given him six months before. They had all but pushed him out the door and on the train to New York. He recalled his father's words: "Kurt, I love ya, and you'll always have a place in my home, you know that. But you don't belong here anymore. You need to go to New York. It's where your heart is, and it's the only place you'll be truly happy. Go and live your dream, or make a new one, but you need to go."

A crying Kurt hugged his father and went about starting his new life. Rachel and Kurt scoured the city for somewhere they could afford to live, Rachel complaining that she couldn't survive another semester with her perpetually sex-crazed roommate on campus. He moved into their little studio apartment within the week and found the job he'd had for the last five months.

It wasn't even a month into his life in New York that he received his second audition for NYADA. Kurt remembered his performance, a soul-baring rendition of "I (Who Have Nothing)" into which he poured all the anguish and loneliness he had felt in the preceding years at never having found someone to so much as understand what it was like being gay in a small town, much less someone to love him. And his audition had paid off – last month he had received his acceptance letter, and now he would be beginning his classes as a musical theatre major.

Kurt Hummel, things are finally coming together for you, he thought.

He snapped out of his reverie when the shrill ring of the phone disrupted the otherwise quiet office. He answered it quickly. "Good afternoon. Marissa Montgomery's office. How may I help you?"

Answering the question perfunctorily, Kurt got back to his duties as office assistant, pushing the ball of nerves from his mind to concentrate on his work.

Later, an exhausted Kurt pushed his way into his small but tastefully decorated apartment.

"Kurt, is that you?" Rachel called from the kitchen. Kurt rolled his eyes. Rachel always insisted on greeting him like they lived in a palace or like they ever had any visitors. Ever. Which they did not. Still, he answered, "Yeah, Rachel, it's me."

He pushed the heavy door closed behind him and engaged the multiple locks on it. It was then that he noticed the smell. "Are you cooking?" he asked, not attempting to disguise the shock from him voice. Rachel never cooked. Either Kurt cooked their meals or they ordered out.

"Yes, I am." Rachel smiled over the counter at him, looking very pleased with herself. "I know you're probably really nervous to start classes tomorrow, so I cooked you dinner to celebrate your first day of classes going well."

Kurt sat his bag down on the table near the door and look at her quizzically. "But...my first day of classes hasn't gone well yet."

She came around the counter and gave Kurt a quick hug. Kurt was secretly pleased to see the apron she was wearing, though he would be sure to tease her about it later. The big unicorn on it smiled up at Kurt, one of the last remnants of Rachel's wardrobe before he had given her a big New York City makeover.

"Yes," she said into his shoulder, "but I know it will. You're amazing, and you're going to do amazing, okay?"

He hugged her back tightly. "Thank you, Rachel."

She released him. "Okay," she said brightly, clapping her hands together. "Go wash up, I'll set the table."

Kurt smiled at her and headed to the bathroom, taking a big whiff as he walked. Smelled like some sort of pasta. That sounded perfect to Kurt. A carb fest was exactly what he needed to take his mind off of the next day.

The next morning, Kurt blearily smacked his alarm and groaned at the early hour. He had long since gotten out of the habit of hitting the snooze button multiple times, as he and Rachel had different schedules and usually didn't wake at the same time.

He had gotten very little sleep the night before, constantly tossing and turning imagining what his first day at NYADA would entail.

As he got up and dressed, he tried to focus on his resentment at having such an early first class instead of the nausea building up in his stomach. His task was made easier when he saw Rachel dozing peacefully. As a sophomore, she hadn't been stuck with an eight am class.

After he was convinced he looked perfect – he'd worked on picking out the perfect outfit for longer than he cared to admit – Kurt rushed out of the apartment and to the subway.

When he got to campus, Kurt barely looked around as he made his way to his first class. Rachel had already given him a tour and shown him where all his classes were so he wouldn't get lost or be late.

Kurt made it to the classroom in record time and plopped down in the semi-circle of chairs in the center of the room just as the professor entered. He looked around and took stock of the people around him. There were ten in all including himself. Six were girls, the rest guys. Everyone had similar body types and were classically attractive, Kurt noticed somewhat sardonically. Gone was the frumpy middle-class of Lima, Ohio.

He brought his eyes to his new Acting I: Foundations professor. She was middle-aged, perhaps late thirties, with a stylish bob and a well-dressed figure. Kurt immediately approved. However, what relaxed Kurt most about the woman was her warm smile. He released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and waited patiently for her to signal the beginning of class.

Finally, she came and stood in front of the students. "Good morning, students. My name is Allison Lane and may I be the first to say, welcome to NYADA, and welcome to Acting I. You guys are the cream of the crop, the top dogs, the best of the best, and I expect nothing less of you. Look around. The people in this room are going to be your scene partners for the rest of the semester. You are all your best resource. Use each other wisely. Give constructive feedback and accept criticism with an open mind. This is not an audition. You guys are not competitors; you're comrades. That being said, let's jump right into the introductions. I want name, home town, major, and favorite production you've been in. Go." She pointed to the dark-haired girl at the end of the row.

And so they went around, introducing themselves. The names went right through Kurt's mind, something he knew he would regret later. Most were musical theatre or acting majors, but he was caught up in the deluge of places these people had come from and productions they had been in. California, Iowa, Michigan, Kentucky, two from New York, Delaware. And goodness, Kurt thought. Everyone had said a different production. Rent, Phantom, Spring Awakening, The Glass Menagerie, Hamlet, It's a Wonderful Life. All leads, Kurt imagined. His head began to spin. It occurred to him for the first time that he was probably not the most talented person in the room.

When it was his turn, he said, "Kurt Hummel. Lima, Ohio. I am a musical theatre major, and my favorite production was Into the Woods." Of course, it was only a community production, and the Rapunzel couldn't hit her notes to save her life, and only about thirty people came to see the show, but no one in the room had to know that.

After everyone had finished, Professor Lane clapped her hands together. "Alright, great. Now, let's go ahead and start with the basics."

Blaine swore as his passed down yet another hallway, the numbers about the doors headed in the opposite direction of the one he needed. If he didn't hurry, he was going to be late for yet another class. He was definitely regretting not having taken that tour they offered incoming freshmen a few days before.

But then Blaine remembered the reason he'd been late, and he couldn't feel any remorse. That redhead on his knees in the bathroom stall...he would have blown off the President to feel his cock buried in the back of that guy's throat.

Blaine turned around abruptly, realizing he was heading in the wrong direction again. With his head in the clouds and his unexpected movement, he caught the guy walking behind him completely off guard. The boys collided, and Blaine dropped his phone on the ground.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," Blaine apologized immediately, bending down to pick up his phone. When he stood back up, he got a good look at the other guy. Taller than Blaine, – but then again, most people were – the guy had the body of a god, if his tight fitting shirt was any indication. He had short dark hair, expertly styled, with chocolate brown eyes and a five o clock shadow. What did Blaine in, though, was the guy's sexy half smile.

"Don't worry about it," the guy replied, obviously eyeing Blaine up and down. "It was my fault. I was distracted by you walking in front of me."

Blaine returned the guy's smile with his own sultry smirk and leaned closer to him. "If you think my ass looks good in these jeans, you should see it out of them."

The guy looked down at Blaine through lowered eyelids. "Oh, I intend to," he said lowly.

"Blaine," Blaine said after a moment.

"Will," the guy replied. "You should give me your number, Blaine."

Will pulled out his phone and Blaine rattled off his phone number.

"I'll be in touch," Will said, slowly beginning to walk away.

"Wait," Blaine said suddenly. "Any chance you could tell me where room 301 is?"

Will laughed. "Should've known you were a freshman. Back that way," he nodded his head in the direction they had both been walking from. "Second hall on the left all the way down."

"Thanks!" Blaine called walking quickly in the way Will had indicated.

He sighed in relief when he got to the door with the correct number above it. Just as he was walking in his phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out, seeing he had a text from an unknown number. He paused just inside the doorway to read it.

Can't wait to see your ass out of those jeans.

He smirked, quickly added Will's number to his contacts, pocketed his phone and looked up.

His eyes immediately met piercing blue ones, and his heart skipped a beat. The boy looked away quickly, but Blaine was hooked. He eyed the other boy up and down, noticing his very chic outfit, his slender build, his flawless skin, and coiffed hair. The buy was good-looking yes, but that wasn't it. This wasn't the same attraction Blaine had felt to the other guy in the hallway.

The fact of the matter was Blaine recognized him immediately. He didn't know his name, but he could never forget that face. He had longed for this boy for years throughout high school, but he had either been in a relationship or been too cowardly to go up to a performer in a rival glee club to talk to him.

And the truth was this was the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. It wasn't sexiness or allure; it was pure, unpolluted beauty.

And he had to have him.

Before Kurt knew it, he was headed to his last class of the day, musical theater techniques. His day had been quite anticlimactic really, and he began to feel very silly for having been so nervous.

His other classes had consisted of introductions and brushing up on basics, and he had lunch outside in the courtyard, people watching and texting Mercedes, Rachel, his dad, and Finn, all of whom had wished him good luck on his first day.

The only other notable part of his day had been his ballet class with that witch, Cassandra July. Rachel had warned him about her, of course, but it still burned Kurt up when she told him he had chicken legs and his plies were "pathetic."

Still, Kurt's mood had drastically lightened since that morning. Despite being disheartened by the realization he'd had that he was not the most talented person at NYADA, the nerves all but dissipated as he familiarized himself with his new home.

No, he may not be the best here now, but he vowed to really soak up as much as he could, really learn to harness his talents, and by the time he graduated, he would be one of the best.

And Kurt had spent so much time being nervous, he forgot to be excited about the fact that he would finally be formally trained. His classes no longer consisted of doing boring math equations and learning useless facts about dead presidents. He was meeting with a vocal coach individually, as well as learning ballet, acting, musicianship, and musical theatre techniques, which happened to be his last class of the day.

Kurt walked in with a few minutes to spare and picked a seat at the end of the row of chairs lined up in the small but well lit room. Though Kurt was happy to see that most of his classes didn't have the traditional classroom setting with desks, the layout of this particular room made him nostalgic for his glee club days, and he felt a pang of sadness when the professor walked in and he wasn't Mr. Shue.

The professor went to the desk in the corner to prepare for class, and Kurt's eyes drifted back to the door. As he was absently wondering what was going on at McKinley at that exact moment, Kurt's breath stopped as he saw what was undoubtedly the most gorgeous boy he had ever seen walk through the doorway. Kurt was staring, he knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop. Luckily, the boy was checking his phone and didn't notice.

Frankly, there were a lot cute guys a NYADA, and the kicker part was for the first time in his life, Kurt was surrounded by hot gay, probably available men. So many that he had had to actively ignore that fact all day in order to focus on his classes. Of course, Kurt had been in New York for months, and he had obviously encountered other gay men. He'd even gone on a few dates, but nothing clicked. All the men he'd met were only interested in jumping straight into bed, and that just wasn't Kurt's style.

This boy, though, was different. Kurt wasn't just attracted to him; he was floored. He was adorable, a few inches shorter than Kurt, with dark, slightly unruly curly hair, and dressed impeccably in tight jeans and a v neck t-shirt. The boy smiled at his phone, put it in his pocket and looked up. His gaze caught Kurt's, who promptly looked away, painfully aware that he was blushing all the way up to his hairline. He looked down at his hands in his lap, and thought one word – hazel.

Maybe it was only because he had just been thinking of glee club, or maybe it had taken Kurt a few seconds because he had never seen the boy out of his Warbler's uniform and he used to wear his hair differently, but it the time it took for him to cross the room and sit in the seat next to Kurt, he realized he recognized him.

"Hi," the boy said, startling Kurt a bit. No one had introduced themselves to him personally all day or gone out of the way to talk to him at all.

Kurt glanced over at him to see a wide smile on his face. "Um, hi," Kurt replied, a bit flustered.

"I'm Blaine," he said.

"Kurt." Normally, Kurt was more articulate, but those eyes made Kurt forget how to construct sentences. He was aware he may be coming off as rude, but he didn't know what to do about it.

"Do I know you? You look a little familiar," Blaine finally said after a beat.

Breathe, Kurt commanded himself. Make eye-contact. "I think our glee clubs competed in competitions the last couple of years. You sang lead for the Warblers, right?"

Kurt thought he detected a bit of pink tinge the cheeks of the boy's – Blaine's, he mentally corrected himself – olive complexion as well. "That's right. You went to McKinley." Kurt nodded. "Well, I'll try not to hold it against you that you guys kicked our butts."

Kurt laughed. "Thanks, I appreciate that."

Just then, the professor began class, and Kurt was simultaneously glad because he wouldn't have to look like an idiot any longer but also disappointed that their conversation was cut off.

"Alright, everyone listen up," the professor said. The boys faced forward and the chatter in the room stopped. Kurt took stock of his teacher. Gates was his name, if Kurt remembered correctly from his schedule. He had longish, stringy brown hair and a Jesus beard, and he was wearing a long-sleeved paisley – Kurt nearly shuddered – shirt, blue jeans and flip flops.

"My name is Mr. Gates and you are my class. This is musical theatre techniques, so if you aren't a musical theatre major, what the heck are you doin' here? The door's that way."

He paused, waiting for confused students to leave, and Kurt nearly rolled his eyes. Still, he found his professor's somewhat quirky personality to be quite endearing.

"No one? Okay, good. This class is all about how to approach a song, how to give it emotion, make it breathe life. You're taking classes on technical skill, improving your range and hitting notes. That's not what my class is about. All of you are good singers. My job is to teach you to integrate your feelings into your songs. Because you're all artists, and the whole point of art is to convey emotion. To make the audience feel what you're feeling. Because that's what it's all about, right?"

He paused again, looking somewhat wistful. Kurt knew between his oddball professor and Blaine, this was already shaping up to be his favorite class.

Mr. Gates continued, "There will be some written coursework, but the bulk of your grade in this class will come from performance. You and you" – he pointed to Kurt and Blaine – "partners. You and you." And so he went down the line until everyone had been paired. Blaine shot Kurt a quick smile and a shrug, and but Kurt thought he detected a hint of disappointment in the other boy's eyes. Kurt smiled back at him tentatively.

"The person I've paired you up with is going to be your lifeline throughout this semester. It is our firm belief here at NYADA that students learn to support and rely upon each other, because ladies and gentleman, performance is not a solo sport. Your partner will help you select your songs, rehearse, prepare for your in-class performances, and will also be your duet partner during some assignments. I encourage you guys to get to know one another."

Kurt tried to seem blasé about being assigned Blaine as his partner, but he could barely contain a shriek of delight. They were going to have to spend time outside of class together, maybe even become friends... Kurt let his thought trail off there. He didn't want to get ahead of himself.

Mr. Gates went on about the basics of song selection and emoting through song, a concept Kurt found terrifying, because lack of emotional depth in his performance was why he had been denied acceptance to NYADA the first time. He tried to calm himself by remembering that he had mastered it at his second audition.

At the end of the period, Mr. Gates gave them their first assignment. "I want you guys to pick a song that expresses how you feel right now. The dominant emotion you have, the biggest thing you've ever felt. Just any song you can put the most umph into. I just want to gauge where you are, so I can see how far we need to go together. No limits as to artist or repertoire. Performances on Friday. Don't forget to utilize your partners. That's all. See you guys next time."

Kurt bent down to gather his belongings when he heard Blaine say his name. He looked up quickly to see Blaine's phone pointed at his face. He hears the unmistakable sound of the shutter going off on Blaine's camera phone, meaning he had just taken a picture of Kurt. "I wasn't ready!" Kurt exclaimed.

Blaine laughed. "Relax, it's just for my contact information. Here." Blaine handed Kurt his phone. "Give me yours." Kurt reached in his pocket and gave Blaine his phone. Blaine clicked around a bit and turned Kurt's phone on himself to take a picture. He made a silly face and Kurt heard the click of his own camera phone go off. He put his name and number into Blaine's phone and the boys swapped.

"Alright," Blaine said. "I guess I'll text you later and we'll see about meeting up to talk about our song selections and stuff."

"S-sounds good," Kurt said, somewhat breathlessly.

"Okay, see you later Kurt." With a parting smile, Blaine got up and left the room, and Kurt really enjoyed watching him walk away.

Blaine's smile fell as soon as he turned away from Kurt. He was so mad, he felt like hitting something.

Blaine had a very firm Don't Shit Where You Sleep policy when it came to guys, or he guessed a more apt name for it would be Don't Come Where You Work, he thought wryly.

The second Gates had assigned them partners, Blaine knew he couldn't just sleep with Kurt. His grades and his performance at NYADA were too important to him to jeopardize, even for someone he had wanted for years.

He tried to ease his mind by thinking of December. They would be done with Gate's class, and then Blaine would be free to fuck Kurt, get the boy out of his system, and then completely forget about him. Yes, Blaine thought, that was exactly what he needed.

Until then, he would just have to put the idea of sex with Kurt completely out of his mind. It would be easier if the boy had a single physical flaw, but Blaine would have to do his best.

It's not like there weren't plenty of other guys at NYADA Blaine could pass the time with, anyway.

Yes, that's what he needed, a distraction. Five months of distractions.