The next day classes began after a brief welcome ceremony in the school's auditorium. Kurt had entered several courses this year, one of them being composing. He had always dreamed about writing his own music. There were many reasons for this, but one of them was his unique voice and the lack of material for him to sing when it came to musical theatre. Most of the students in the programme were purely classical (well before this summer that is), but Kurt had always secretly dreamt about Broadway, even if his voice was more fitted for classical pieces. It was his number one ambition to become an acclaimed star on stage, but there were very few roles in his range, hence the thirst to learn composing. He had dabbled a little at home, but he felt like his music was lacking that special something and now he had the chance to learn.

The course was held in one of the classrooms on the second floor and the sun shone in through the windows making the room unbearably hot. Kurt was fanning himself with his notebook as the teacher Mr. Zimmer was talking about his theories behind creating the perfect melody, when there was a knock on the door and curly head appeared. "Is this composing?" When Mr. Zimmer nodded in affirmation, the rest of the boy entered the room. Two thoughts took precedence in Kurt's head. One, 'that's the guitar boy from last night' and two, 'breathe Kurt breathe'. Exhaling, Kurt tried to tear his eyes away, but it seemed like they had locked on like a honing beacon. The boy was gorgeous. Under that dark curly hair was a classically handsome face with expressive dark eyebrows and full pink lips. His eyes were an undeterminable colour, but what struck Kurt the most was how alive they seemed. The boy looked like he was laughing at some private joke and Kurt couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss him or hold him down till he confessed his secret.

"I'm sorry I'm late," the boy said to Mr. Zimmer, "I asked for directions twice and ended up on the other side of campus."

Mr. Zimmer just motioned him to take a seat and the boy took one of the free chairs by the wall.

Kurt jumped in surprise when the boy sitting next to him poked him with his elbow. "What," Kurt whispered. "Phase one of Operation Un-popular is a go," the boy (David wasn't it) whispered through a grin.

The rest of the class was mostly a blur to Kurt. He wrote down the theory Mr. Zimmer put up on the whiteboard, but it might as well have been in Russian because when he looked down on his notes it all sounded like gibberish. It might have something to do with the fact that gorgeous guitar boy kept looking over at him with the cutest smile playing on his lips. 'Was he checking him out? Did he have something on his face? He must be checking him out? But that would be so bad, because even though Kurt longed to find out what he looked like underneath the jeans and t-shirt combo, it would be so wrong to sleep with the enemy, right?' Kurt felt his cheeks heat up when his thoughts went their own unsupervised way. 'Ok, stop it right now, this is a classroom, you're supposed to be learning and also boners do not go with your skinny jeans.' Kurt tried really hard to focus on his notes, on the teacher and think of the most disgusting things he could come up with to keep his body in check.

When the lecture ended Kurt got up and hurried out of the room. He was going to lunch and hopefully some of his friends were there to distract him. However, he had not gone far before he heard the sound of running steps behind him and sure enough gorgeous guitar boy caught up with him. "Hi, I'm Blaine," he said, slightly breathless. Kurt took the extended hand and shook it, feeling the calluses on Blaine's finger tips. "I'm Kurt." Blaine got a weird look on his face, but Kurt was sort of distracted by his eyes which turned out to be a really beautiful golden brown and the look didn't really register with him.

"Ehm, what are you studying this summer, except composition that is?" Blaine asked.

"I'm a pianist and a singer, a countertenor to be exact, so I'm focusing on that." Kurt was about to ask Blaine about his courses, but the boy had stopped smiling completely now, in fact he looked right out hostile. "You know, you have a very distinct voice, maybe you should think about that before you start badmouthing people behind their backs." Kurt just stood there, looking as Blaine walked away. 'Shit.'

It became pretty obvious that Blaine's detour was only one of the many incidents that first day. During lunch the classical kids revelled in the different stories of how they had thwarted the pop's (new nickname) day so far. "I locked the wheelchair boy in a classroom," Brittany told the rest of the group. Kurt didn't know Brittany very well since it was her first summer, but the girl was kind of strange. "Where did you get a key?" Wes asked her, making the girl look at him with a vacant expression. "What key?" The boy that had sat next to Kurt earlier in composition took her hand. "Brittany, the classroom doors cannot be locked without a key." He seemed very patient with her. "I thought he had one of those magical chairs," Brittany said quietly. "I saw him outside before lunch and I asked him if I could borrow his chair the next time I go to the bathroom. I always get locked in when I go to the bathroom."

Nobody knew what to say to that and Kurt excused himself and got away from the awkwardness around the table.

As he walked to his singing lesson his mind was occupied elsewhere and he was not really watching where he was going, so it should not be a surprise that he bumped into someone, making the other one drop a pile of sheet music.

"I can't believe this; I've spent all morning trying to get these in the proper order."

It was the guy from yesterday, the really tall one. He really is handsome in a fratty sort of way.

"I'm so sorry. Here let me help you." Kurt crouched down and started collecting some of the papers. Standing up, he is dwarfed by the guy's height. "Here you go." Kurt hands over the papers with a smile. Ok maybe a flirtatious smile, but there's no harm in trying, right. The giant looks a bit flustered. "Uhm thanks. I'm Finn by the way." Kurt's smile grows. "Kurt, Kurt Hummel." He would have tried to shake his hand, but Finn is holding the sheet music to his chest with both hands, so instead Kurt gives a little wave. "It was a pleasure meeting you Finn. I'd better get to my singing lesson."

He can't help it, as he walks to his singing lesson his mind is spinning images of moonlight walks and candlelight dinners, but his brain can't seem to make up its mind because although he starts thinking about the tall, dopey Finn, more often than not the guy turns into the charismatic and gorgeous Blaine.

Kurt rarely feels challenged back home in Ohio. He has as many voice lessons and piano lessons as they can afford, which means they can be pretty infrequent. His first singing lesson this summer is with a new teacher and after 45 minutes with her Kurt feels like he has run a marathon. His shirt is soaked and he can feel the trickle of sweat running down his back and into his underwear, and he hates it. He feels disgusting and also incredibly frustrated. He is a good singer, maybe even a great singer, but Ms. Korokova has spent the whole lesson picking on him. He ended up lying on the floor because she decided he didn't use his stomach muscles enough when he was singing. Kurt had wanted to protest, but instead he grinded his teeth and got down. The whole lesson with no praise, no singing any songs, just endless warm up exercises lying on the floor or standing. He feels like this woman has taken all of his practise and knowledge and smashed them under her heel. 'You will practise using stomach, yes. And open mouth, let go of chin.' Her parting words are on a loop in his head complete with appalling accent. Kurt doesn't want to cry, but he is close. Willing his tears to stay where they are, he hurries to get to his room where he at least can freak out in private.