(Four years earlier)

Kurt was in a great place, all things considered. After a year in New York and away from the bullies and boredom of Ohio, he could even say he was thriving. He was doing well in all of his NYADA classes, made plenty in wages and tips at the Spotlight Diner (way better than he ever got at the Lima Bean), and had a solid friend network.

The band really started as a lark, a seed planted by his co-worker/roommate’s girlfriend Dani. “Don’t you ever want to sing your own choice of songs? And just because you want to, not because a customer wants it served alongside their hashbrowns?” she said. They started brainstorming band names and playlists, along with said-roommate Santana, and eventually held an audition which was how they found Elliott. The original group included his other roommate Rachel, but Broadway and bickering led to the fivesome becoming a trio. RIP Pamela Lansbury; welcome to the world, One Three Hill.

Yes, Kurt was looking forward to cementing his legacy at NYADA sophomore year. With a “Midnight Madness” win in his pocket and buzz for his band reverberating at local venues, he felt good about the future. And since Adam had gone back to England after their (friendly) break up, he was back on the market, single and ready to mingle. Outwardly he expressed distaste about the “freshman = fresh meat” cliche, but inwardly...well, there were certainly some possibilities this semester…

One newbie caught his eye in particular; a dark-haired dreamboat with a tight little ass and a penchant for bowties and polos. He vaguely recognized Blaine Anderson from the Ohio show choir circuit; in fact the New Directions had been scheduled to compete against Dalton Academy before a vicious flu bug tore through the Warblers and they were forced to forfeit. So he had never actually met the guy. He was pretty sure he was gay, though NYADA gossip circles hadn’t quite confirmed one way or the other. Anderson had to at least be talented enough to get into NYADA...so, at least as talented as him.

He was about to find out.

“Kurt!” Rachel called out to him down the hallway. He turned and stopped so that she could run and catch up. “I need a favor.”

Oh boy, here it comes. “Depends, how big of a favor?”

“I need to bow out of Diva Night.”

“What?” He had been looking forward to their monthly Diva Night, aka going to Callbacks in their finery and doing a strict playlist of Bernadette Peters, Patti LuPone and Audra McDonald. And this time Mercedes, their old classmate who had relocated to work on her album, would be joining them. “Why?”

“Okay, so do you know who June Dolloway is?”

“Only one of the richest arts philanthropists on the East Coast.”

“Well, the Dean has asked that as one of NYADA’s brightest stars,” (Kurt imagined that was more Rachel’s wording, not Dean Thibodeaux’s), “I perform at Ms. Dolloway’s charity showcase. And there’s a chance to be personally mentored by her! Anyway, I don’t necessarily need it as much, with Funny Girl and all, but I’ll be doing a few duets, and I’ll be needing to rehearse with my partner…”

Kurt was way ahead of her. “Whatever you need, Rachel, I’m in! Now, we could start with our rendition of ‘Happy Days Are Here Again/Get Happy,’ or maybe that should be the encore…”

“Actually...she had another student in mind,” Rachel said, sounding almost apologetic.

“Really?”

“Yes...she wants to highlight one of the freshmen, not sure you’ve met him yet, Blaine Anderson? Needless to say, a new singing partner means tons of rehearsal time, making sure his vocals can live up to my high standards, I mean that’s a pretty high ceiling...”

And that was how Blaine Anderson became an awkward fixture in Kurt’s life. And it seemed in spite of his having a year on him, Kurt would play second fiddle to the “Ohio Wunderkind” throughout their tenure at NYADA. He got the patronage with June Dolloway. He got Melchior in the student production of Spring Awakening (Kurt got Ernst, which was okay, but couldn’t he at least get Moritz?). He was invited to the Winter Showcase and Kurt watched from the audience while he and Rachel sang “Baby It’s Cold Outside” (Rachel making the song sound more rapey than flirty).

And then one day he was running late to an open call for bands at a venue One Three Hill had been coveting for months. The subway routes were changed last minute (fucking MTA he muttered), and Kurt and his bandmates literally ran from the station to the audition; as he approached, he heard an unmistakable voice, accompanied by two others in perfect harmony…

Dino called yesterday

The rent is overdue

ConEd and New York Telephone, are mad too

Better screen the calls for a day or two

Or cough up your share

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Kurt said through clenched teeth. Blaine Anderson was on stage with two other men, sharing a mic and snapping as they sang:

This is the life, bo bo, bo bo bo

This is the life, bo bo, bo bo bo

This is the life, bo bo, bo bo bo

Bohemia

As they finished, the owner of the club stood and applauded. “Bravo, bravo! Wonderful, just top-notch! We can definitely use that here, so unique, and we don’t even have to worry about instruments! I’ll get you the schedule.” The owner turned around toward his office, and Kurt darted in front of him to get his attention.

“Hi! Kurt Hummel, one third of One Three Hill?” I’m so sorry, the subway was delayed, and we would have been here sooner, but we’re here now! Are you ready for our audition?”

“I’m sorry, kid,” the man said. “I can’t fit anymore in today, and besides,” he motioned to Blaine and his friends, “I just filled the last slot. Check back in a couple of months?”

As the owner passed him, Kurt looked towards the stage, at the person who he now considered his sworn enemy.