He smiles down at the flyer in his hands. Future NYADA Applicant Mixer! It sounds promising. He’s putting all of his hopes into this night, believe it or not. He had been hoping to find kindred spirits amongst McKinley’s new glee club, but all it’s gotten him so far is a mortal enemy and the price of a new windshield deducted from his allowance.

When he looks back up from the flyer, he begins to take inventory of the other attendees of the mixer.

He spots a boy with gorgeous hair and a confidence about him that Kurt can’t help but envy chatting with a group of girls with too-tanned skin and too-blonde hair. He thinks he overhears him being referred to as Jesse, but he isn’t sure.

There is a girl nearby, perhaps tinier than Rachel, but that could be due to the fact that she looks to be in middle school. She seems to be the only one not mooning over the one who might be called Jesse. ‘Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?’ he thinks to himself. She’s practicing vocal warm-ups and twirling around. She’s in her own world.

In the far off corner is a boy with massively curly hair who is decked out in what looks to be a private school uniform. It’s too big for him in the shoulders, Kurt notes. Nothing a little tailoring can’t fix. His tongue is poked out in concentration as he taps away at some sort of handheld gaming device.

So far, he is the only person in the room who doesn’t immediately intimidate Kurt. This is why he walks over and introduces himself.

“I’m Kurt Hummel,” he says, extending his hand. “If you’re going to play that dumb thing the entire time, why did you even bother coming?”

He doesn’t look up from his game, and Kurt immediately draws his hand back. He’s used to the rejection. It’s nothing new.

Kurt is about to head back to where the rest of the group is gathering up for what looks like a round of ‘look how much better I am than you’ but then he notices the way the boy’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip. His shoulders are hunched like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

He’s shy.

“Hey,” Kurt says, a little softer this time. “Wanna go talk to the others?”

“Not really,” he says just as softly. “They’re going to think I’m weird.”

“We’re in a room full of theatre major hopefuls. Why are earth are you worrying about being weird?” Kurt sits down next to him, trying not to take it personally when he scoots a fraction of an inch away. “I think you should thrive on being weird. Being weird makes you special.”

“I’m Blaine,” he says, finally putting the game console to the side.

Kurt offers his hand once more. He tries not to cringe at the sweaty palm that clasps his, and discreetly wipes his hand on his slacks when Blaine lets go.

“Do you sing, Blaine?”

“In the car,” Blaine tells him. “In the shower.”

“Everyone thinks they’re the next big thing in their car, or their shower.” Kurt rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t count.”

“I was thinking of joining the Warblers.”

“The what?”

“The Warblers,” he repeats. “It’s the show choir at my new school. They’re like rock stars.” His personality is starting to shine through in his responses, like he’s building momentum. Kurt notices the way his fingers seem to be drumming with energy now that he’s shoved the game console aside.

Kurt reaches out to adjust the lapel of Blaine’s blazer, perhaps a bit too personal for someone who he’s just met, but something about Blaine makes him feel like he’s allowed to touch. He doesn’t flinch this time, but he looks down at Kurt’s fingers with a curious look. “Let me guess, they all dress exactly like you and sing like a barber shop quartet.”

Blaine ducks his head. “Maybe.”

“Hm,” Kurt nods. “I think maybe means yes.”

The rest of the group is still gathered in the center of the room, trying to talk over one another, but Kurt is content to sit off to the side with Blaine. They spend the rest of the mixer talking about music and fashion. Blaine can keep up with designers, but admits to not owning anything more stylish than his school uniform. He just likes to look at the pictures in the magazines. He tells Kurt that he likes that there are people out there whose entire job revolves around making people look beautiful.

Blaine doesn’t accuse Kurt of being something he’s still having a hard time saying out loud, and Kurt doesn’t ask Blaine about the fading bruise on his cheek covered by the wrong shade of concealer.

They end the evening by swapping numbers, and even though their conversation has stayed strictly on the superficial level, Kurt believes they might be on the way to something.

He’s always wanted a best friend.

Neither of them are much for hugs, it seems. There’s a bit of awkward shuffling before they settle on a lingering handshake. Blaine’s palms are less sweaty, and his smile seems more genuine.

“I’ll see you next month, Blaine,” he says with a small wave.

“It was nice meeting you, Kurt.”

So worth getting grounded.