How many years had it been so far? At least four, he remembered. Around four years ago Blaine had made his way back to his roots, back to Ohio. Surely it wasn’t his first choice, but after about 3 years of countless rejection and a false hope of making it in New York City, there weren’t too many other options. Sure, he could have gone back to school to get a degree in anything other than theatre, one that will actually look good on a resume, but that wasn’t quite Blaine’s style. Getting stuck in a dead end job at some obscure accounting firm was not the way he pictured himself in 10 years. He was a creative soul; he needed art to live.

So, here he was, a few months short of turning 30, and a chorus teacher at McKinley High School. He wasn’t starring in his own Broadway show, or headlining on some cross-country tour, but he was content. Blaine could see himself here in ten years. At this point, that was his intention.

Sometimes he thought back to the glory days while he droned on throughout the school day, grading various singing assignments or finding new songs for the choir to sing. He would think back to when he was a warbler at Dalton Academy, and how incredible his four years there were. Dalton was about an hour away from the school he currently worked at, and he would’ve ended up working there, except for the fact that all of the arts programs at Dalton were run by the students. Blaine didn’t quite want to face their dapper wrath, although he was one of them fifteen years ago. Meeting his cocky little fifteen-year-old self would be a nightmare.

These days, Blaine’s inhibitions were a bit more toned down, given that he realized in college that bursting into song in public was not quite socially acceptable. Since then he’d lost a lot of his dapper edge, opting for cargo pants and an old t-shirt rather than bright red capri pants and a matching bow tie. He supposed that his lack of effort in the fashion department made him more accessible toward his students, or something of that sort. It seemed to be working, as all of his kids loved him. Most of his seniors that he’d had since their freshman year called him by his first name.

“Blaine, do you think I should try out for the musical this year?” said Mallory, one of his students that he was closest to. She wasn’t necessarily a great singer, but he still loved her. “I mean, it’s my last year, and I never thought I was really good enough to do it, but I’ve always wanted to, and…”

“Then just go for it. Simple as that.”

“But it’s not that simple, I mean…”

“Yes it is, Mallory.”

“Oh-okay.” He nodded to her and she exited. They had an odd understanding between each other, one that didn’t involve any sugar coated shit that was the usual norm between student and teacher.

For the past four years the spring musical had been his thing, and it had yet to be a success. Last year, during their production of the Sound of Music, the backdrop fell during the first scene, and a few years ago, Blaine mistakenly cast someone with short-term memory loss as his lead in the Wizard of Oz. Plus, each of the sets have been an abomination, due to budget cuts and a lack of creativity on Blaine’s part. Every year, Blaine assured himself that the show would be a hit among local theatre geeks and actively involved parents, but each year those dreams were crushed. At least he wasn’t putting on any productions of Rocky Horror, like that middle aged Spanish teacher had when he ran the musicals. No one really expected any greatness from the theatre program at McKinley, so there wasn’t much to lose each time the musical tanked. Again, it wasn’t his first choice, but he was back home in Ohio, and he was content.
It was three o’clock, and his first meeting for the spring musical was in fifteen minutes. Blaine sat in his office with his feet on the desk, examining his ugly scuffed sneakers that he wore every Friday. He hadn’t exactly known when or how a pair of sneakers became a part of his wardrobe. They just…appeared, he supposed. Part of him really did miss the red pants and the dress shoes. But Blaine had guessed that he’d reached the point in his life where Friday’s were nothing more than curling up in his apartment and popping an old DVD. It reminded him that he’d grow old single, as he had a slim chance of finding anyone special in Ohio. “Sigh,” he said out loud, as he’d already accepted the fact that he’d spend the rest of his life alone. Sigh sigh sigh.

Suddenly, he heard heels running down the hallway and the muffled noise of someone screaming his name.

“Blaine! Blaine! Blaine! Blaine!” it repeated. He could tell that it was Elise, his thirty-something-but-looked-twenty-something partner in crime, who worked upstairs as a teacher in the English department. She had this loud, bubbly personality that was especially amplified on Friday afternoons, just because of the lack of witnesses to her crazy. The two had both started work at McKinley in the same year, and had become best friends ever since.

“Blaine!” She said out of breath as she entered his office, with this distinct smile on her face. Her straightened dark brown hair hung down as she draped herself from the door jam, as if she was a sixteen-year-old girl hanging from her bedpost after the captain of the football team asked her to the prom. Blaine was used to this action though, as she did it every time she wanted something.

“What do you want, Miss Elise?”

She got to her feet and shut the door, tiptoeing over to his desk.

“We are going out tonight,” she whispered.

“And when did I agree to this?”

She shrugged. “You didn’t. But neither of us is dying alone, and we’re making sure of that tonight!”

Blaine took a deep breath. “Really, Elise?”

“Oh come on! Look at what we’ve turned into! Look at your sneakers!” she said, motioning her hands to the sneakers. “They’re dreadful!”

He knew the sneakers were bad, for goodness sakes. “Where would we go?” he regrettably asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Elise squealed a bit. “I think we should go to Chicago.”

Blaine nearly spat out his drink onto Elise’s skirt. “What?!” Elise just smiled and nodded.

“That’s like, four hours away. I have things to do, you know.”

“Like?”

“The spring musical meeting? And there’s leftover ice cream cake at my house that needs attending to.”

She looked and him with one of her obscure scrunchy faces, signaling that she was still out to get him. “One of these days, I’m getting you out of here,” Elise said, smiling back at him before her exit; having some false hope that Blaine would get off his ass on a Friday night and be social. Slim chance.

He leaned back in his chair and put his feet back up on top of the desk, taking off his glasses. Blaine knew that Elise was right, that he’d turned into some lazy bum. He really wasn’t in the mood to be spontaneous and do something this Friday, and he supposed that living in New York for almost 7 years satisfied his social needs for a lifetime. She was right, but he just didn’t want to put in the effort.

The clock read 3:12, and Blaine started making his way to Emma’s office. She was married to that middle-aged Spanish teacher, and the two of them were both involved in the musicals. Neither could commit to organizing the whole musical, since Will ran the Glee club and Emma got anxiety whenever she had too many things going on. Therefore, Blaine was the director. That was how it had been for the last four years.

As he walked into the office, he noticed that instead of two chairs in front of Emma, there were three. Usually, Will occupied the only other seat, and Blaine took the second, but a man with soft, brown hair sat in the third. At a glance, Blaine couldn’t tell who it was.

“Blaine!” Emma greeted him with her unusually large eyes bulging out. “Well, I might as well introduce your new backstage director.” The mysterious newcomer turned around to meet Blaine’s eyes, and Blaine caught his breath, overwhelmed by stunning eyes, gorgeous hair, a beautiful face-

“My name’s Kurt Hummel,” he said, reaching out his hand.

Blaine gulped. “I’m Blaine Anderson,” he replied, taking his hand and shaking it.