MONDAY

When he got to the practice room and saw a note on the door saying his singing lesson was cancelled, Kurt found himself with a free hour before acting class and no idea what to do with himself.

Strike that – he had plenty of ideas of what he should be doing (catching up on reading for his classes that week, getting in an extra vocal lesson practice, working on some sketches for his costume design class) – but it was too nice a day to be inside. He decided to grab some coffee and head for the park. Though he would have rather shirk his assignments, he thought he could get some drawing done while he sat under a tree or something.

Kurt Hummel was in his second semester of his freshman year of college at Point Park University. Though his hopes were initially dashed when he didn’t get into NYADA, Kurt loved Point Park’s Theatre Arts program and honestly couldn’t see himself anywhere else. He loved being at a great performing arts school that was still relatively close to his family in Ohio. He still felt a few pangs of jealousy every time he heard from a friend studying in New York, but on a whole Kurt was happy where he ended up.

After getting his mocha, he strolled to the park and found an empty picnic table in the shade. Though it was only April and still a little chilly, Kurt never sat out in the sun if he could help it because of his fair skin. He pulled out his sketchpad and a pencil from his satchel and placed them on the table in front of him. Kurt took a deep breath, letting his lungs fill with the fresh spring air. He smiled to himself, took a sizable swallow of coffee and then put pencil to paper.

Because his lesson was cancelled, Kurt had a decent chunk of time to sit and draw if he wanted to. Minutes flew by as he brought his nose closer to the table and drew, deep in concentration. By time he put the finishing touches on a jester costume for his Shakespearean Comedy assignment, over an hour had passed since he first sat down and Kurt’s coffee was cold (though he didn’t know that when he went to take a gulp). In addition to the unexpected temperature, the coffee went down the wrong pipe.

As he choked on his drink, Kurt heard someone say behind him, “Are you okay?” Kurt’s nodded even though his throat burned from the coughing and his eyes were full of tears that he tried to fight back. He was more embarrassed than anything that someone was there to see him make such a scene. He didn’t dare turn around until he heard that same voice ask again, “Are you sure? Would water help? I mean, I have some here. Let me…”

Kurt blindly set his coffee cup down on the table and used the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He heard rustling behind him that stopped soon after it started, followed by someone walking up behind him. A hand reached over his shoulder and placed a water bottle on the table in front of Kurt. “Here. It hasn’t been open or tampered with, I swear.” Through his teary eyes, Kurt watched the hand let go of the bottle and retract itself back over his shoulder.

From the voice and the hand, Kurt knew his helper was a guy probably around his age, which wasn’t a surprise since he was sitting in a park in the middle of campus. Kurt’s first thought was that this guy sounded handsome even though he knew that was silly and completely not something he should have been thinking about while he was coughing. He covered his mouth as he turned to face the stranger who was being so nice to him.

“Thank you,” Kurt managed to get out in between coughs as he looked up at the guy standing behind him. “I – ” Kurt was almost grateful to still be coughing because he was at a loss for words when he saw the face that belonged to the voice.

Though they were hidden behind thin, black, rectangular frames, Kurt was drawn to the other boy’s eyes. They were warm and sincere, and looked as if someone took all the various colors of green, brown and gray crayons, melted them down and swirled them together to make those eyes.

The dark, triangular eyebrows above those eyes animatedly furrowed themselves while Kurt tried to settle himself. He grabbed the water bottle off the table and gave a feeble smile though his coughs as he unscrewed the lid and took a small sip. As the coughing subsided he took a few more careful drinks, during which he tried to inconspicuously get a better look at the rest of his helper.

Voice, eyes and eyebrows guy was average in height but made up for it everywhere else. He was dressed in sinfully tight jeans and a dark green sweater with a white t-shirt underneath. The sleeves of the sweater were pushed up; revealing toned and seemingly tanned arms. A thick strap crossed over his chest and was attached to an acoustic guitar that rested against his back as if it were a backpack.

“You okay?” There was that voice again, causing Kurt to return his eyes to the other guy’s face. Genuine concern was causing the most adorable creases across the other guy’s forehead. Only a couple lines were visible, as dark curls spun down toward his eyebrows and Kurt couldn’t help but think it would be fun to tug on them only to watch them bounce back into place.

Cool it, Hummel, he thought to himself. You don’t want to scare off the handsome stranger with your creepy staring.

Kurt nodded as he recapped the water bottle and set it down on the table. The handsome stranger broke out into a crooked grin and looked relived. “Thank you for the water,” Kurt said sheepishly, wishing he could have met this handsome stranger under different circumstances then him choking on his cold coffee.

“You’re welcome,” the handsome stranger replied, grin spreading wider.

Just then, a bell chimed from a tower on campus and Kurt’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit, what time is it?” Though the stranger started to look at his watch to inform Kurt of the time, Kurt looked at his phone and it confirmed that he had ten minutes to get across campus to the theater building. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” He scrambled up from the table and grabbed his satchel off the ground. “Oh my god, I’m going to be late to class,” he muttered to himself as he began throwing the water bottle and his pencils into his bag. “Thanks again. Have a great day!” And with that, Kurt was off and running across the park.

“You too,” the handsome stranger shouted after the other boy who made no motion to acknowledge he was being addressed. “Dammit” the handsome stranger said quietly to himself as Kurt got smaller and smaller in the distance. “Why didn’t you get his name?”

…

Kurt burst through the door at the back of the auditorium a few minutes after class started, drawing everyone’s attention as he breathlessly walked over to an open spot in the circle on the stage. He flopped down uncharacteristically graceless on the floor as he was met with a raised eyebrow from his teacher, Mr. Anderson.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Hummel,” Mr. Anderson said in a stern but teasing tone. He clapped his hands and looked around at his students, “Let’s do some improv!”

Class kicked Kurt’s ass that day. His chest hurt from the impromptu sprint across campus in addition to all the coughing he did earlier. Usually he liked improv warmups, but he just was not in the mood that day. He was grateful when the class got started on their dramatic monologues. Since Kurt already did his monologue the day before and received mostly positive criticism from his teacher, that class period gave him a chance to stare off into space for a while. His mind wandered to the stranger with the water bottle and he mentally kicked himself for not getting the other boy’s name. He had no idea who that other guy was. Campus wasn’t exactly small, but Kurt was pretty sure he would have remembered seeing someone who looked like that, even from afar.

“Kurt!”

The sound of his name jarred him from his thoughts of the handsome stranger. “Huh?” Kurt snapped his head around to look at his teacher. Mr. Anderson had a displeased look on his face and Kurt instantly felt guilty. He usually prided himself in how seriously he took his class and here he was daydreaming about a boy while he should have been paying attention to his classmates. Kurt’s cheeks flushed pink as Mr. Anderson wordless asked him to get his act together. “Sorry. I’m – ” Kurt shut his mouth as quickly as he had opened it and sat up in his chair and gave his classmate at front of the stage his undivided attention.

When class was finally over, Kurt was hoping to sneak out before Mr. Anderson had a chance to reprimand him. He was a few feet away from the door when he heard his teacher call to him.

“Hey, Kurt! Can you hang on a second?”

Kurt squeezed his eyes closed and mentally prepared himself for a lecture about treating his classmates with respect and being present. “I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson, I just – ”

Mr. Anderson shook him off. “Everybody has an off day, Kurt. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Kurt looked confused, especially when Mr. Anderson started digging around in his own satchel and procured a ticket. “Here,” he said as he handed a ticket to Kurt. “There’s a guest pianist in town on Thursday and I’m encouraging everyone in class to go check it out. And by encouraging, I mean requiring.” Kurt cocked his head as he took the ticket, still confused. “I handed these out at the beginning of class, but since you… well, you know.”

Kurt looked at the ticket and his eyebrows raised as he read the name in the center of it, “Devon Anderson.” He looked up at his teacher for a response to a question he didn’t have to ask.

“Okay, yes, it’s my brother. I snagged a bunch of tickets because I thought the class should see his performance.”

“But, he plays piano… and we’re an acting class,” Kurt said, pointing out the obvious.

Mr. Anderson raised his own eyebrows as he shouldered his satchel. “He does play the piano. But who says he isn’t acting?” Kurt’s mouth dropped open, as if he were to make a comment, but he was so confused at his teacher that nothing actually came out. “See you tomorrow, Kurt.”

oNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt;">Kurt stared down at the ticket in his hand as Mr. Anderson left the room.

…

Cooper Anderson loved teaching almost as much as he loved acting, but he also loved coming back to his apartment and unwinding after a long day at work. He took the steps two at a time, knowing that cold beer and his litter brother were waiting for him upstairs. His brother had always been a piano prodigy and was finally making a name for himself in the music industry. After an acting troupe had pulled out of their Point Park campus performance, Cooper pulled a few strings and got his brother to take their performance slot. Though Point Park’s music venue was not quite as prestigious as the ones he knew his brother would someday play, it was a good excuse to get to spend some one-on-one time with him while he could.

Sounds of someone playing Rock Band emanated from under the front door as Cooper keyed his way into his apartment. He smiled as he opened the door to see his classically trained little brother standing on the coffee table in a white t-shirt and jeans, wailing on the plastic guitar like it was his job. Fingers flew across the colorful buttons as the younger Anderson jumped off the table in time with the end of the song. Cooper threw his bag on the couch next to his brother’s crumpled up green sweater and guitar and started to clap, scaring the younger boy.

“Jesus, Coop. I didn’t hear you come in!”

“Oh, hey Blainers. Didn’t see you there standing on my furniture and beating my former high score.” Cooper groaned, but was impressed. “How the hell do you play that fast?”

Blaine set the toy guitar down and broke into a wide grin as he wiggled his fingers at his brother, revealing faded scars on his right hand. “Years and years of playing scales. You know, if you would have stuck with piano lessons too, you might not suck so badly at Rock Band. Just sayin’…” 

“Ha,” Cooper laughed as he made his way to the kitchen. “You want a beer, little man?”

“Don’t call me ‘little man,’” Blaine complained as gently moved his acoustic guitar to the floor before he flopped down onto the couch. “But yes, a beer would be great.”

“Fine. Sorry. Here,” Cooper said as he handed his brother a beer. “I’m really glad you’re here, B. I missed you.”

Blaine smiled before taking a sip of his drink. “I missed you too. Thanks for getting me that gig here on Friday. It’ll be nice to play for people my own age again.”

“Awwwww,” Cooper cooed sarcastically as he leaned over to pinch Blaine’s cheeks. “Famous pianist already tired of playing for old rich people?”

Blaine smacked at his brother’s hand. “Cooooop, stoooooooop!” They both were laughing as they settled back onto the couch and drank their beers. “Seriously, though. I miss being around my peers. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and it blows my mind that people are willing to pay to hear me play. But…” His laughter faded with his smile as he looked forlornly at the television to avoid eye contact with his brother.

“I know,” Cooper said softly, knowing full well his brother was lonely. It wasn’t something unexpected, but that didn’t mean it sucked any less. “But hey, I gave all my students tickets to your show. They’re your age - maybe I could introduce you to some of them? You could even come speak in my class on Friday if you want.”

“Coop, you teach acting,” Blaine pointed out. “I play piano.”

Cooper shook his head as he was reminded of his similar exchange with Kurt earlier. As he took a sip of beer, he dug his free hand around in his satchel until he pulled out one of the tickets to Blaine’s concert. He handed it to Blaine and then stood up. “Look at that ticket, Blaine.” Cooper waited as Blaine ran his fingers over his given first name. “Now tell me that’s not acting.”

Blaine stared at the ticket while his brother left the room. Devon Anderson. Devon Anderson.

Blaine was born Devon Blaine Anderson III, but his family and close friends had called him Blaine ever since he was a little kid. As he grew up and it became known that he would foray into being a professional pianist, he was encouraged by managers to go by his given name because “Devon” sounded more serious for a classical musician than “Blaine”. Blaine didn’t mind the sudden duality of his life – he could be Devon onstage and on his albums, but Blaine in his personal life. He was more comfortable being Blaine, but knew when he had to turn up the charm and professionalism and be Devon.

Though Blaine wore glasses and Devon did not, it wasn’t a secret that Blaine and Devon were the same person. This wasn’t a Hannah Montana situation or anything… It was just that a lot of people who were familiar with Devon Anderson, professional pianist, weren’t aware that in reality he was a goofy young man just wishing he could be himself more often.