It started out innocently enough.

Leaving work at 5:30pm every day Kurt would make his way to the bus stop after figuring out by trial and error that the bus was indeed faster than the subway, and a bit more tolerable. He was always 10 minutes early for his bus and so it became aaddictionregular routine to play fruit ninja,because he is a badass ninja, on his iPhone while patiently waiting to make his way home.

It was mid September when Kurt first noticed him. He was jostled from his game; an innocent bystander getting the brunt of a pedestrian collision between a harried businessman and another man carrying a rather large, what looked to be an encased instrument of some sort. Apologies were offered and accepted, and the two men went their separate ways. Kurt's gaze followed the one with the instrument. He didn't see much of him, but what he saw - he liked. A nice compact body dressed impeccably. Not high fashion, like Kurt, but he could tell the man took time to put his wardrobe together with thought and purpose. He had a very handsome face framed with a mass of dark curls and when he spoke, the countenance of his voice resonated tones which, Kurt thought, blended like cream to coffee; deep and rich with a hint of bittersweet. He watched the man walk down another 50 feet or so and then disappear into one of the shops - the one that had bells on its door.

Kurt looked up and saw his bus sitting at the intersection, waiting for a green light. He knew he had time so he quickly jogged down to see which store he went into.

Bass Notes Music School

Quickly running back, he stepped in the bus and sat down, looking back again at the shop that housed the beautiful man with the instrument.

**************

It became anobsessionhabit.

Every day after work, like clockwork, Kurt would make his way to the bus stop to wait and watch for the mystery music man. On most days the mission was successful; with said object ofhis masturbatory reveriesinterest walking down the street and entering the music shop always carrying an instrument of some sort. Kurt never quite figured out what the instruments were. What did he know? He sang as a child and teenager but he had never learned to read music or play anything.

***************

It turned into afixationgame.

What would he be wearing today? Would he be wearing those nice skinny jeans that complimented thatfine assderriere so well, or proper trousers with just as glorious a cut? Would he be wearing his topsiders or his Oxfords? And really, who doesn't wear socks in September? Would he have a beanie on his head taming his loose curls or would it be his pork pie hat accenting his gelled back hair? Loose scarf tied casually around his neck or one of his adorable bow ties?

Oh the possibilities were boundless and Kurt spent a lot of timefantasizingthinking about this every day, leaving work quickly in anticipation of being front row to view his strut down thecatwalksidewalk.

************

"So, what was Mr. Bow Tie Jangles wearing today?" Rachel asked her friend as they worked together at their kitchen counter making dinner.

Kurt rolled his eyes at her feeble attempt to humour. "I have no idea what or who you're talking about." He answered nonchalantly, cutting the vegetables for the salad, turning slightly to look at her with his eyebrow quirked.

"Come on Kurt" she replied pointing sprigs of lettuce at him. "You've been creeping this guy for days. Don't you think it's about time to maybe talk to him?" she suggested, tearing the lettuce into the salad bowl.

Kurt added the sliced celery and carrots and reached for the cherry tomatoes to top off the salad. "I don't know Rachel" he sighed. "What am I supposed to say? Hey, I've beenstalkingwatching you now for days and would you like to go out with me?" he laughed adding with a wistful look on his face "Awkward." Taking their salad to the table, he set it down, checking to see if anything was forgotten. "Let's eat... Besides, I don't even know if he's gay."

Joining him at the table, Rachel handed him his plate of chicken and potatoes. "Oh come on Kurt. You said yourself that he's a looker and a dresser. And I'll have you know, I've noticed your gaydar has really improved since we moved here." she shared as he spooned out the salad for each of them.

Dressing his greens, he thought about it. "Idoactually think he's gay. In fact I'm pretty certain of that. But I just don't know how to approach him."

"I GOT IT" she yelled, causing him to almost drown his salad in vinaigrette. "You said it's a music school - right?" Kurt nodded affirmative stabbing some lettuce with his fork. "Then go in and sign up for some music lessons" she suggested, smacking his arm like it was the most brilliant and devious plan that anyone had ever concocted.

"I'll concede that's not a bad idea." Kurt thought out loud. "But what would I learn? I don't know anything about instruments."

"Even better" she affirmed with another smack. "Let him decide for you!" Oh she was really proud of herself for coming up with this. Rachel loved playing matchmaker and it saddened her to no end that her bff was lonely. He deserved to find his Mr. Wonderful and damn it, she was going to do whatever she could to help him.

"Music lessons... " Kurt chewed and pondered.

**********

Blaine Anderson loves his music school.

Let's repeat that - for it warrants to be repeated.

Blaine Andersonfuckingloves his music school.

Never in his wildest dreams did he dare to hope to find the utter joy and happiness that his school gave to him. It was not the path he thought he'd take. It certainly was not the path that his parents thought he'd take.

He was raised in a home where there was an unspoken assumption that he and his brother would be Ivy League educated with the end result being a doctor or lawyeror god forbid an investment banker.But life throws curve balls and, for Blaine, certain events and stresses in his teenage years decreed that he would need to live a more subdued existence; a lifestyle that wouldn't cause overt anxiety. That discovery quickly nullified medicine and lawandthank goodness, investment banking,but music was always a constant source of happiness and fulfillment for him. All through his life - the highs and lows - music was always there and it was a positive influence.

So after completing his undergrad degree in fine arts, with the full support of his parents, he used the inheritance he received from his grandparents, moved permanently to New York, bought a modest condo in Chelsea and leased a shop to open up his own music school. And he never looked back and he was never happier.

He started his school slowly by putting flyers up around the neighbourhood - pinning them on all notice boards that he could find and by visiting all the schools in his area to meet the music teachers and leave his business card, just in case they had students looking for extra lessons. His hard work paid off, and before long he had enough regular students that he needed to hire some help. Blaine was comfortable teaching piano, cello, violin and select woodwind instruments, but guitar was really popular, as was percussions and while he could get by with the beginners, he realized that he needed someone more experienced for the advanced students.

He put an advertisement in the local underground paper, and received a few applicants. He narrowed it down to two. The first was an interesting musician named Noah Puckerman, or Puck as he liked his friends to call him. The mohawked man could shred a guitar like no-one's business and was great on drums, but he didn't have any teaching experience, and Blaine wasn't sure if he'd be a good fit for the school. The other applicant was a boy named Sam Evans. Partial to country music he also played guitar at a professional level and was decent on drums. He seemed a bit more suitable, but he was also reallyfuckablecute and Blaine wasn't sure if Sam would end up being more of a distraction than anything. In the end, he hired them both. They both needed the work and were juggling other part-time jobs and gigs, so between them they could share the lessons.

Blaine opened the shop every day, except Sunday, at 10am and used the mornings to catch up on administrative work, order music, clean and tune instruments and book new lessons. The lessons usually began mid afternoon and went well into the evening as children got off school and adults their jobs. He would take his break at 4pm, leaving Sam or Puck in charge and he'd be back in time for 6pm lessons. He often taught until 9pm and then would close up for the evening and make his way back to his apartment. It was not an exciting life by most people's standards, but he loved it. The only thing missing was someone to share it all with.

He dated lots of men when he moved to New York. Having been sexually stifled for so long in his hometown, it was like a lid blowing off the pressure cookerliterallywhen he was finally able to be himself and seek out sex with other men. But the novelty eventually wore off and the casual hookups lost their lustre. So, instead of hanging out at gay bars looking for a random, Blaine found himself spending more time in coffee houses or even just hanging out at his shop, resigning himself to a solitary life. He hadn't given up hope of meeting that someone special, but he decided to just let fate take it course, and if was meant to be, it would happen.