Being in France wasn't all it's cracked up to be. Kurt could testify to that. It was supposed to be a fun month abroad. But as for now it was all but fun. Kurt had expected to meet a nice French boy who would sweep him off his feet and show him a whole new word. No wait, that was Aladdin.

He had hoped that at least in France someone would want to be with him. Going through high school without a boyfriend was almost expected, but now it had been three years since he had left Ohio for New York and yet here he was, spending time by himself or with Rachel. But she couldn't really hold the title of an honorary boyfriend forever, no matter how hard she tried.

So yeah, a month in France should've been fun, full of new experiences and meeting new people. He had first got lost at the Charles de Gaulle airport to find his flight connection and when he finally arrived at Nice, in the south of France, where he was going to spend his time, well things got rough.

The room he was renting was supposed to be a nice little place, with the kitchen and the bedroom in the same room and a bathroom with shower and a toilet. Instead he had a room with a noisy bed and he had to share his bathroom with the entire floor. How charming.

The only thing that made him smile was the fact that he could see the sea from his window and had a nice view of roofs and a little of the street under his building. He was living in the old city, where all the buildings were burnt red or warm orange. He could smell the lavender preparation for the soap that the shop in the building across the street was making as well as the socca, a typical dessert made with chickpea flour and cooked in a big pizza oven to give it a warm brown color. He loved the city and his neighborhood. Though one of his neighbors, not so much.

It was July so of course sleeping with an open window was essential to survive. He wasn't really afraid of anyone trying to sneak in, the building was really high and the rooftops he could see above were too far for anyone to jump from it. He couldn't see the windows of the other apartment in the street because of the blue and green shutters but he knew one of them must have been open because apparently one of his neighbors thought he was Beethoven.

Kurt was nicely falling asleep after a long day wandering the streets, taking pictures and drinking his bottle of water. The heat was heavy and even the small little breezes were welcomed. He was in the state where you're conscious enough to know you're falling asleep but not conscious enough to move, a blissful state where everything is just like cotton candy. Well until one of his charming neighbors started to play his violin of course. Kurt groaned and extended his arm to get his pillow and threw it on his face, hoping to muffle the noise coming from outside. Of course he could hear the music just as well but got hot and out of breath under his pillow.

He reluctantly took the pillow off and grunted at the musician, knowing perfectly that there was no way that he or she could have heard him.

"It has to be a joke," Kurt muttered, frowning and debating with himself if he should close the window or not. In the end he decided against it and so he endured hours of classical music being murdered on a violin before finally falling asleep at dawn.

Fortunately for him no one played for a week and he got the chance to sleep like a baby until Sunday, around midnight. It started off nicely this time, it was more scales than anything else, so no one was murdering music, this was good. Well until the musician tried to play California Gurls on his violin. The player tried over and over again, missing the same note every single time but not giving up. Kurt had to give him or her that, as much as it was freaking annoying the player was not giving up. Maybe he or she could have thought that it would have give the whole neighbourhood some peace and some more hours of sleep.

It didn't stop until someone angrily shouted: "Mais tu vas la fermer oui?!" The instrument gave a last shriek like the musician had been surprised by the outburst and then silence settled.

It happened a third time the day after. Kurt grunted and groaned and stood up angrily from his bed. Why did the musician have to play at that time of the night, it was like he chose to play at night to bother people. What was wrong with them? Kurt looked out of his window and leant a little to peer over to the other window, they were all closed or pitch black except for one, in the building across, he couldn't see inside because of the shutters but he was almost certain the noise came from that flat. Kurt glared at the building and the window in particular, hoping that the musician would feel his anger through the wood of the shutters before going back to sleep, mumbling some insanity about his neighbor.

The next morning Kurt put a little note on the door of the building, he pinned it angrily, earning curious looks from some teenagers who were drinking blue and pink iced water. He made sure that everyone who would come out of the building could see his note and nodded to himself.

"To whomever is playing at night,

Could you please practice during the day or at least close your window when you're doing it during the night. I'm sure you're talented but it isn't really showing when you're keeping everyone away from sleep.

Thank you,

People from the building across."

He didn't notice the teenagers drawing penises on his note when he walked away.

When he got home that night after a long day at the beach - no he didn't fear the beach he just needed an umbrella and a shirt and some cream, that was all - he found a little note on his building door this time.

"I have to admit that the drawings on your note made it almost sympathetic. I'm sorry my music skills aren't to your taste.

I won't stop playing though. Buy some earplugs."

Furiously Kurt snatched the note from the door and glared at the little stars drawn all over the paper and just as he entered his building a shrieking note came out of the flat across the street.

"I'm going to murder that person."

The musician didn't stop until one in the morning and it didn't get any better as the hours passed and the insults from the angry people were thrown at the player. Kurt had recognized Give You Hell hours ago, and he had to admit it was quite fitting for the situation. He was also almost certain that he had heard the musician shouting "Hope it gives you hell!" from time to time.

When he stepped out of his building the next morning a little piece of paper fell in front of him:

"I hope you enjoyed last night's concert.

Yours faithfully,

Blaine"

The same kids were sitting at the little coffee shop, laughing and enjoying the few hours of fresh air before the heat settled and Kurt marched to them.

"Uh, excusez moi?" The teenagers stopped their conversation and looked at him curiously. "I'm sorry are you from the neighbourhood?"

The only answer he got was a brief nod from one of the girls so Kurt continued.

"Do you know who Blaine is? He is playing music at night and living in the orange building with light green shutters."

"Yeah I know him. Why?"

"I..." Kurt didn't really have a answer for that. All he wanted was for the man to stop playing while he was trying to sleep. "Could you ask him to stop playing at night then, please? Or at least to shut his window? It can be a little loud at night." Kurt tried to be as nice as possible but when someone was making his ears bleed because of bad music he could become a little cranky.

"Tell him yourself." The teenager answered, obviously bothered by Kurt. "His mailbox is Anderson, knock yourself out." Kurt stood upright and with a huff walked away from the teenagers.

"I ship them so badly you have no idea!" One of the girls said, giggling with her friend while her boyfriend glared at her.

The music didn't stop for a week, it was like Kurt's personal hell. It didn't matter how many notes he left in the man's mailbox, he either didn't get an answer or when he received one it was usually to tell him that no, the musician would not stop. And now everything that he played sounded like a pig's scream, and Kurt could frighteningly imagine the pain of the instrument with every shrieking note. It was like a crime against music, it was like murdering the instrument over and over again.

"Ugh, they are driving me crazy!" One of the teenage girls said one morning to her friend. "They are exchanging angry notes and they miss each other by five minutes every freaking time!"

"What do you want to do?" The other teenager wondered, making her chewing gum pop.

"We should put romantic notes in their mailbox."

"That would be so romantic! And they would fall in love!"

"And when they finally met they would kiss passionately"

"And thank us for eternity!"

"And invite us to their wedding!" The two girls broke into laughter before one of them stopped and asked seriously.

"We're doing this, right?"

This is how when Blaine opened his mailbox that night he found a little paper with a brand new partition attached to it.

"I know you're better than what you to let us believe.

Could you play that for me? Please?"

Blaine crooked an eyebrow at the pink and glittery note and smirked before rolling his eyes. That night he did indeed play the music on the partition while Kurt sat on his bed, bewildered in his room across the street.

"Are you kidding me? I can't believe that man was butchering those songs on purpose" Kurt gritted between his teeth. He indeed couldn't believe it and he had to admit that the man was talented.

He was a prick, but he was talented. Kurt didn't really recognize the song but it didn't matter, every note was right and hit too close to home. Kurt closed his eyes and let the music carry him away, in the back of the countryside, where everything is yellow from sunflowers and wheat plants and purple from the lavender, where the smell is like honey and sun. He let the music engulf him in a warm hug.

"I hope that was good enough for you!" Kurt suddenly heard, the yell breaking his little bubble. The man had just shouted from his window in the middle of the night. Kurt stood up quickly and looked outside, and indeed the man was leaning over his window, smirking obnoxiously at him.

"It was almost bearable for once!" Kurt shouted in answer, wanting nothing more than to slap the smirk off the man's face. Really beautiful face. Sun kissed skin and wavy beach curls beautiful.

The man, Blaine, winked at Kurt who huffed in annoyance and closed his window loudly, missing one of his neighbors yell.

"Just get a room already!"

"I'm willing to take more demands from you." Was the note of the day for Kurt. He read it over and over again, frowning in confusion. He had never wanted the man to play, quite the contrary he would have given all the French designer shirts he had bought the past week just to make him stop.

Well maybe it wasn't completely right after last night but he had never asked anything.

Kurt thought about it all day, keeping the note in his bag and reading it from time to time, he even got some strawberry ice cream on it.

He walked slowly to his flat and put a little paper in the Anderson labelled box, blushing to his roots and quickly crossed the street to enter his building.

That evening Blaine played exactly what Kurt had asked him and again Kurt got lost in the music.

They followed that pattern for a week, Kurt would request a song and Blaine would played it at night. No one asked him to shut it or to stop. It would have been stupid to anyway since the man wouldn't have stop and he was playing too beautifully for anyone to make him stop.

And then Kurt realized that it was what he had missed at the beginning. It was something out of time and completely crazy, but if he wasn't mistaken someone was playing for him every night for over a week now. It had started as something obnoxious and in a "I want to rip his head off" way, and now he couldn't imagine spending one night without listening to the man playing.

Kurt stood up and grabbed a pen, scribbling something quickly and putting his espadrilles on before flying down the stairs. He stopped in front of his door and took a big breath before opening it and walking to the other building.

He was putting the little note in the mailbox when the front door opened violently and suddenly Blaine was in front of him. He kept the door open few more seconds, holding Kurt's gaze before stepping outside and going down the small staircase. They were almost eye to eye, well Blaine was apparently smaller than Kurt. He had bright sparkly eyes with a hint of mischief.

"Well, well, well, bonjour..."

"Kurt, I'm Kurt." The taller man provided, still a little overwhelmed by the musician's presence. He hadn't expected him to come out or to even see him before well, sometime.

"So Kurt," Blaine followed, still holding his gaze and wetting his lips with his tongue. Kurt watched the movement, spellbound by it, and Blaine smirked a little. "Care to tell me what's on the paper?"

"I, uh... well." Instead of trying to speak, Kurt handed the paper to Blaine who didn't take it and instead stepped closer to the man. He tried to catch the man's gaze who was purposely looking away, shyness taking over him.

Gently Blaine took Kurt's chin in his hand, making it difficult for the man to look anywhere but right at him.

"So?"

"Would... would you go out on a date with me?" Kurt winced a little when he heard how full of nerves his voice was and he let panic settle in his belly when Blaine didn't immediately answer.

"I'd love to."