A harsh bleeping interrupted Blaine's dreams and he rolled over in bed, groaning. Reaching a hand out he scrabbled over his nightstand until he found his alarm, blindly pressing the button to turn it off. By the time his room was silent again all remnants of sleep had left him and he was too awake to drop off to sleep again. Glaring at his alarm he sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair as he pushed his bedding back and got out his bed.

Last semester he had never had any early morning classes and had been able to call his friends late morning and smugly inform that he had just woken up whilst they groaned and complained about how early morning lectures shouldn't be allowed and how unfair it was that Blaine didn't have to suffer through them. Blaine should have known his luck would run out, and sure enough when he got his timetable for this semester he found that he had a lecture first thing every day except Friday. His friend and roommate Nick had made a point of making the same phone calls that Blaine had tormented him with the previous semester, Blaine supposed he deserved it. But it was only the second week of semester and he was sick of the early mornings already.

He ran a hand through his hair again whilst he brushed his teeth, trying to tame the mess of dark curls. Sighing, he rinsed his toothbrush and grabbed his hair gel. Nick teased him for how much gel he used and asked him at least twice a month why he didn't cut back on the amount he used now that they were no longer at Dalton and didn't have to look like dapper, young gentlemen every day, but Blaine just felt scruffy if he didn't gel his hair.

Dressed and ready to leave, he debated about waking Nick up just to annoy him, but after realising Nick would get him back in some way, he chose not to and left the apartment silently. It was cold outside, but thankfully warmer than the bitter chill that New York had woken to yesterday. He didn't have to rush for his train today – yesterday he had been running late after having to sift through the stacks of papers and books on the coffee table to find his assignment that was due that day – and he descended the stairs to the platform several minutes before his train was due. He was walking along the platform when, out the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a familiar pair of blue eyes. It was the guy he had bumped against yesterday, the one who had left him breathless when their eyes had met for those brief few seconds on the train. He was currently absorbed in playing with an iPod, allowing Blaine to study him from a short distance away. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his pale skin was flawless, and he was dressed impeccably in a fashionable coat, scarf, and a pair of skinny jeans that clung to his legs in all the right ways. Blaine found himself wondering what his name was and what his story was. He didn't know why he was spending so much time thinking about a stranger, usually when he saw an attractive guy he would check them out and then forget all about them less than a minute later. He didn't know why this guy was different.

His train pulled into the station and Blaine deliberately hung back so that the blue-eyed young man approached the train in front of him. Blaine's eyes swept down and he bit his lip, his thoughts jumbling and becoming incoherent as he took in the denim-clad ass in front of him. Blue Eyes found a spot half-way down the train car and Blaine reluctantly allowed a group of business men in suits who were discussing the morning's paper get between him and the blue-eyed guy so that his view of him was blocked – he needed to stop staring at the attractive stranger.

Needing to distract himself, Blaine pulled out his iPod and listened to the latest piece of music he had composed on the piano but hadn't written lyrics to yet. He had started writing and then later scrapped several versus and choruses for the music – nothing he had come up with so far fitted the music. Blaine was a bit of a perfectionist and whilst this had helped him get a scholarship to study music at NYU, it meant that he spent longer working on things than other people did, especially his music. Sometimes, Blaine was able to write music and accompanying lyrics he was happy with in a few hours when ideas just flowed out of him, other times he would spend days working on a song. Something was different this time, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like he had channelled some undiscovered part of himself, and until he understood this part of himself, until it was brought to the conscious part of his brain, he knew he wouldn't be able to write lyrics he was happy with and which truly suited the music.

The train stopped at the station Blue Eyes had got off at yesterday and Blaine watched him walk past on his way off the train. He didn't look up from his phone as he passed and Blaine wondered why he was so disappointed by this, they had only bumped into each other on the train and on New York's busy subway system that happened a lot – the other guy probably wouldn't even remember the exchange.

Blaine doodled absently in the margins of his notebook as the lecturer droned on about something Blaine already knew and wasn't gripping enough for him to listen to. Next to him his friend Scott stared at the lecturer with glazed eyes, his chin resting on his hand and his pen resting against a page which had only a few lines of writing on it. Scott wasn't good at staying focused during lectures that weren't interesting and always ended up begging Blaine to let him borrow his notes when exam time came around. Blaine had tried to get Scott to pay more attention in class by threatening to hide his notes from him, but it never worked as Scott knew Blaine would give in and let him borrow them anyway – Blaine was just too nice to everyone, years of being bullied and struggling to fit in had made him like that, he just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecturer dismissed them and Blaine had to nudge Scott twice before he realised class was over.

Noticing Blaine looking pointedly at the almost blank notebook in front of him, Scott raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I tried to pay attention, I really did, but we can't all have your powers of concentration." He shoved his books into his bag and followed Blaine out of the lecture theatre. "You can't exactly tell me off; I noticed you weren't taking your usual notes." He smirked at Blaine. "Mind on other things? Last night, maybe?"

Blaine rolled his eyes as they headed to their next class.

"I'll take that as a yes." Scott's smirk widened and remained on his face as he pulled out his phone, fingers almost a blur as he tapped out a text.

Blaine pulled open the door to the building their next class was in, stepping aside to allow a still texting Scott to enter ahead of him.

"So what happened last night?" Scott asked without looking up from his phone as they walked towards the stairs at the back of the building. "I want all the details!"

Blaine shook his head as they started to climb the stairs. "I swear you act gayer than I do."

Scott stuck his tongue out at him and slid his phone back into his pocket. "Fine, be like that, don't tell me anything."

Blaine was glad when they reached the lecture theatre and Scott was distracted from trying to wheedle information out of Blaine by the appearance of a couple of their friends.

"Rachel! Dinner's ready!"

Kurt finished serving food up onto the two plates on the counter of the tiny kitchen and carried them to the small table which served as both a dining table and a desk where Kurt and Rachel did all their coursework. Rachel appeared just as he set the plates down, sheet music in her hands and an excited smile on her face.

"Kurt, I officially have this song perfected," she announced, setting the sheet music down on the table, "and I know you've been dying to hear it, so-"

Kurt interrupted before she could start singing. "Dinner will get cold if you don't have it now. Why don't you save the performance until after we have eaten?"

Rachel looked a little disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm, but she sat down at the table willingly enough. "Ok," she said, picking up her fork and knife. "How were you classes today?"

Although he and Rachel were both studying musical theatre at NYADA, they had a couple of different classes which meant their timetables were slightly different. Kurt had been unlucky enough to get early morning lectures which Rachel had managed to avoid this semester.

He shrugged. "They were alright, still not happy about the early mornings, but I guess I'll get used to it."

Rachel nodded sympathetically. "I hated having them last semester; I had to get up ridiculously early to fit in my usual morning routine."

They chatted about classes as they ate, Rachel thankfully not having anything to complain about today, until there was a lull in the conversation just as they were finishing their meal.

Rachel, who had been taking a drink, set her glass down suddenly. "I had been meaning to ask you last night, but what happened that put you in such a good mood yesterday morning? Was it Tim? Did he call you?"

Kurt shook his head, feeling a blush colour his cheeks. "No, no it wasn't Tim."

Rachel eyed him sceptically for a moment. "How are things going with him anyway? I know you were texting him last night?"

Kurt shrugged. "We're just friends, Rachel."

Rachel shook her head and smirked at him. "We're friends, but you don't do what you did with him at that party at the end of last semester with me." She set her cutlery down. "Besides, I know he really likes you, Kurt and you like him too."

Kurt grabbed Rachel's sheet music from where it lay at the end of the table. "Are you going to show me your song? I've wanted to hear you sing this for ages!"