Kurt reveled in the music as he painstakingly folded his laundry. Though Def Leppard wasn't his favorite artist, he had come to appreciate the rocking music as a contrast to his much beloved Broadway favorites, and was glad he'd let his brother talk him into it. And the lyrics were pretty good, he admitted to himself. And helped him to forget the rest of the world, if only for a moment.

His day hadn't gone all that well, to be perfectly frank.

First there was the mix-up with the doctor. He had confirmed and verified and double-checked again and again that their monthly appointment with Doctor Julian was at two-thirty in the afternoon, between his last class and cheer practice. Only to get there and find that it had been moved to three-thirty. Of course, he could have rescheduled, but Kurt was nothing if not stubborn, and with his self-enforced limitation on driving and using up precious fossil fuels, he wasn't about to waste the ten miles worth that he had already spent, to go ten back and another twenty when it was rescheduled.

Of course, it made sense, then, that his second issue was in showing up late to practice. Not that he minded, he wasn't on the team itself, but the dragon lady who called herself Coach Sue definitely minded that one of her star performers wasn't on time. Though honestly, she hadn't made as much of a fuss as he had expected when she'd heard the excuse. Still, she had eyed him suspiciously the entire conversation, and when Brittany came back to the dorm after practice, she had whined about being more exhausted than usual, proof positive that the coach had run her through the wringer.

And that was the third thing that had gone wrong today--or yesterday, as the case may be. Brittany had decided to spring on him a paper that she had on Roman architecture. A paper that was due the very next day. He'd yelled at her for about thirty seconds before he caught sight of those beautiful blue eyes of hers brimming with tears, and then had taken her by the hand, led her over to the desk, and helped her to write a ten page paper. She had made it worthwhile, though, with her funny, obscure commentary on the rest of her day as he read over her notes and helped her to form complete, and sensible arguments that he was sure would get her at least a B. It had taken him awhile to figure out how to do that, but by the end of her second senior year, he had somehow mastered it, and now here she was, a second-year college student with a 3.4 GPA.

His pride in their combined work, however, had taken a backseat as the fourth and last issue had cropped up, which was what had led him to start doing laundry at eleven at night, and continued into the wee hours of the morning.

Kurt shook his head, trying to shake away the worry and the stress of the day, and trying not to think of how tired he was going to be later that day, when he had his biggest load of classes of the week. He would get through this, just like he had gotten through every other problem and setback in his crazy, mixed up life.

"And I want and I need and I lust," he continued singing, the lyrics making him grin, only to stop as a coughing fit started behind him. He whipped off his headphones in surprise and embarrassment, and turned around to see who had caught him singing in the laundry room, and then froze.

The boy was hunched over, laughing between coughs, and Kurt thought he heard a curse somewhere in there, but even from that view he was...something.

Messy black curls gleamed in the overhead light, with red highlights reflecting when he moved his head. He had an urge to reach out and touch, but his eye was caught by the rest of the boy. His shoulders were broad, and tanned, surprising for this time of year, but a stray voice in Kurt's mind said it was probably his ethnicity. The voice was drowned out, though, by the fact that his shoulders were not only broad, but bared. Even more surprising considering the chill in the air, and yet, he couldn't fault him. The muscles of his back and shoulders flexed with every sound that came from the boy, and Kurt snapped his mouth shut as he realized he was on the verge of drooling.

"Stop it," he snapped quietly, as the boy finally said, "Ah, sorry, I--"

Kurt inhaled slowly, not noticing the other boy fail to complete his sentence as he met warm, hazel eyes. Yet, even as he labeled them, he rejected it. They weren't just hazel. They were golden and amber and alive and--

He coughed, cutting off his own train of thought, and blushed a little bit as he asked, "Did you need something, Mister--?"

The boy grinned, and Kurt swore his heart stopped.

Stop it! he screamed inside, all the while smiling on the outside.

"Blaine," the boy replied, his voice matching everything on the outside. He held out his hand, and Kurt took it tremulously in his own grip. "Blaine Anderson. And you are?"

"Kurt," he said faintly, wondering why holding this guy's hand felt like everything was right with the world, and then released it, and brought his hand back to his side, wiping it surreptitiously on his old black jeans. "So, Mister Anderson, what brings you to the laundry room at--" he hazarded a glance down at the watch on and his brows rose in surprise, "--three in the morning?"

"Ah, you actually," he replied with a grin, and Kurt blinked.

No way.

"Excuse me?" And please don't tell me I've just fallen in love at first sight with a crazy person.

"I heard you singing," he began, and Kurt blushed as his meaning fell into place.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. You were sleeping weren't you? And I woke you up. Oh, my god. I didn't mean to bother anyone, I just had a laundry emergency, and I--"

He was cut off by the boy--Blaine's laughter, and he reveled in the sound.

"Hey, no worries, Kurt."

He grinned and Kurt couldn't help but grin in return. His name sounded so right falling from those lips. He blinked then, and his smile fell just the slightest bit. He really shouldn't be thinking about another person's lips, even if they did look ripe and luscious and--

Stop it!

"Well, I am sorry," he began. "I hope you don't have an early class in the morning?"

"Well, actually--"

"Oh, hold on a minute," Kurt cut him off as he felt a vibration at his side. He slid his phone out of his pocket, and flipped it open, wondering who was texting him at this time of night, and then went pale as he read the three short words.

She's sick again. :(

"I'm sorry, Blaine--" And God, what was with names sounding right, especially at a time like this? "--I have to get back to my dorm."

He started gathering up his clothes, wincing a little at the wrinkles that would likely develop in the apparel he hadn't managed to fold yet, and dropped them into the green and blue basket at his feet.

"Roommate problem?"

"Ah, it's my girlfriend," he said as he bent to pick up the overflowing basket, and only faintly registered as the smile fell from Blaine's face and his eyes went dull. "Sorry about the singing. It was nice to meet you," he added and pushed out the door and back into the cold.