I gasped and faced the boy as our eyes met in mutual horror. Neither of us wanting to be the first to point out the blatantly obvious, we held each other's gaze for an instant more before he let out a sudden cry.

"No, this can't be happening!" he shouted into his hands as his guitar case fell to the floor. "No, not today. Please, not today..."

He trailed off, leaving me doing my best to muffle my own despair into the elbow of my jacket. I had waited so long for this day, prepared so much. My application among a few others had been selected out of hundreds, giving me the opportunity to interview with one of Vogue's top editors, Isabelle Wright, for an internship regarded as one of the most prestigious in the fashion world. I would not have this opportunity again. I was crushed.

I watched as the boy desperately pushed at the help button in vain. The power had gone out, no one was coming. It was a reality that, although painful to face, we would need to accept.

Letting out a sigh, I slid to the floor and placed my bag on my lap. I uncrossed my fingers, they weren't doing me any good, and peered inside at the portfolio I had prepared for Ms. Wright. She'd never see it now, and I soon found myself choking back yet another abrupt sob. As my heavy eyes emerged from my hands for what I hoped would be the last time, I noticed my company had also managed to calm himself down. He was, without a doubt, very distraught. The sleeves of his grey pullover were nearly black with tears and he took in a few quick breaths, as one often does after having cried for some time, upon meeting my gaze.

I couldn't look away from him. He was beautiful, in a tragic way. Wet eyelashes contrasted with his creamy complexion like midnight against the moon; his cheeks in particular glistened like stars as his tear streaked skin met the half-hearted shine of the emergency light. But nothing could compare to the stunning fragility of his voice, trembling as he told me his name.

"I'm Blaine."

Blaine. I couldn't remember a time when I'd been so captivated by a single word, a name. Blaine.

"Kurt," I answered quickly. "I'm Kurt, nice to meet you."

He smiled then, and I swear had I been just a little bit closer it would have knocked the wind out of me. In the split second that his full, pink lips parted over the top row of his perfect teeth I had trouble remembering my own name. He was absolutely enchanting.

"So, Kurt, what was on the agenda for you today?" He asked lightheartedly.

"Uh, um I'm actually supposed to be on my way to, uh, an interview for an internship right now. A-at Vogue." Oh. My. God I needed to stop stuttering; I was completely embarrassing myself.

"No way!" Blaine said, "So you're pretty into fashion, huh!? I could tell," he said with a wink. Was he trying to kill me? "Nice blazer, by the way! It reminds me of the one I used to wear back at Dalton."

Wait, he couldn't have meant Dalton as in Dalton Academy of Westerville, Ohio, could he? They do wear blazers...

"Have you heard of the Warblers?" He asked me, confirming my suspicion.

"Yes! I was wondering if you had meant the Dalton I was thinking of! That's so funny; I graduated from William McKinley High School in 2012. Where are you from?"

"Get out of town! Westerville," he replied, "You must be from Lima then, right?"

"Exactly!" It was getting easier and easier to talk to Blaine, but the butterflies did not seem ready to leave anytime soon. "I was a member of New Directions; we probably competed against each other back in the day!"

"Wow, small world!" Blaine said.

"Sure is!" I replied. Anxious not to break conversation, I asked him what his plans for the day had been before the elevator mishap. I quickly regretted it, however, as the excitement faded from his face and was replaced by the look of devastation he had worn earlier.

"Well," he began tentatively, "I also had an interview of sorts. I was supposed to be playing in the coffee shop on Christopher Street this morning and," he sighed, "I had finally convinced this guy to come watch me play-an important guy, you know? This could have been my chance."

In that moment, something came over me. I'm not sure what exactly, but all I knew was that I wanted to make him feel better.

His smile was becoming like a drug to me, and I couldn't handle the withdrawal.