Him. The one anomaly in Kurt's life he just couldn't figure out. Why, when so many others had just taken the cheap shot and insulted Kurt when he was down, had this dark haired boy seemed to actually care enough to ask? Why had he rolled his eyes in the hallway when the only thing that had passed between them was a brief moment of eye contact? Above all other questions in Kurt's mind was one he wanted the answer to most of all; what was the other boy's name?

Those questions had been tumbling around in his mind as he'd left the bathroom earlier that afternoon. He was barely concentrating on where he was going and more than once turned down the wrong hallway. As he approached the choir room he could hear someone playing the piano. An affectionate smile tugged up the corners of his mouth as he imaged Brad trailing across the keys as the group ran through warm-ups.

He found himself humming along as he nearly sprinted across the remaining distance and thrust the door open. Immediately a wave of nostalgia washed over him and he stopped in the doorway. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this room. It might have been just a gently overused piano, a set of old drums and a couple of chairs, but it meant a lot to him. It meant a lot to all of them, he realized, as he saw everyone gathered around the piano singing "Don't Stop Believing" the song they almost referred to as their theme. They were nearing the part in the song Kurt had been assigned last year as a solo. He tossed his bag into the corner and, right on cue, burst out in his lyrics:

"Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants a thrill!"

Everyone turned towards him as he sang. For the most part they all seemed happy to see him. He got a few half hugs from the girls and the boys nodded at him. Rachel, however, looked slightly affronted and Kurt guessed she had planned to sing his solo in his place. Nevertheless, she and Finn took over with the chorus as Kurt walked over to the piano to join the rest of them. The energy in the room was infectious and as they neared the end of the song, it was like they'd never been apart. They finished the last note and someone behind them burst into applause.

"Well done guys," said a familiar voice. They turned to see their curly haired Spanish teacher turned Glee director, Mr. Schuester. "It's nice to see that that number is still a ten. We definitely have a lot of work to do before Sectionals, but I have a good feeling about this year."

He motioned for all of them to take a seat and walked to the center of the room. "Most of you, I'm sure, have heard that Matt has transferred to another school. Now, as all of you remember we must have twelve members to compete. Luckily for us, our own Finn Hudson stepped up and found us a wonderful addition to New Directions."

Mr. Schuester introduced a new boy, Sam Evans, who performed "Billionaire" with Artie, Puck and Finn backing him up on vocals. He seemed like a good fit and got along well with everyone. After a few comments about the size of his lips from Puck and Santana, Mr. Schuester got all of them refocused with some new sheet music he had picked out for Sectionals. After an hour of rehearsal he sent them home to practice and told them to be ready with their parts next week.

Kurt started as a bang from upstairs snapped him out of his thoughts and brought him back to his bedroom. He didn't realize how late it was. His father had stayed at the garage late to fix Finn's truck. Kurt hoped that would put an end to his late streak. He heard his dad moving around the kitchen followed by the sounds of Carole coming in to meet him.

"Finn, Kurt," bellowed his father from upstairs, "I brought food."

Kurt sat in front of the mirror for a few seconds longer, thinking again about how predictable his life could be. Rachel would always be self-centered, Mr. Schuester would never be musically inspired by anything other than Journey, Finn would always be first to the kitchen whenever there was food involved and Azimio and Karofsky would always be Neanderthals.

Finn's footsteps sounded from above as the quarterback bolted downstairs and practically sprinted into the kitchen. Kurt sighed as he stood up and hurried upstairs, hoping that his dinner wouldn't already be halfway to Finn's stomach. Some things never changed.

Kurt hurried through the halls the next morning, weaving through groups of students as he headed toward his locker. He was late. The latest he'd ever been. He had spent the greater part of his morning digging frantically through all of his belongings searching for his keys. The logical part of his brain had insisted that he ride with Finn, who had actually been on time this morning. However, Kurt had stubbornly declined. Finn had left and not long after Kurt found his keys wrapped up in the soiled clothes Azimio had ruined the day before.

Kurt scowled as he caught sight of the hulking football player walking through the hallway ahead of him. Part of him wanted to start rapidly firing off insults in Azimio's face one more time, but he kept walking. He was late enough without making a detour to the bathroom to clean off the slushie he would surely have thrown in his face for insulting the hulking mass of muscle.

His locker opened with a groan of protest from the old hinges. He reached in to exchange books and started when the warning bell sounded. The noise of the other students in the hall faded as everyone scrambled to get to class on time. Kurt barely glanced at his books as he tossed them in his bag and slammed the locker closed.

The Calculus classroom was upstairs and Kurt nearly sprinted in his haste to make it there on time. He saw his teacher, Mr. Hollinger, waiting outside the classroom and Kurt quietly groaned. Mr. Hollinger was one of the most sarcastic and condescending people Kurt had ever met. His attitude coupled with his habit of locking late students outside of his classroom for being tardy had Kurt resuming his frantic pace to beat the bell.

He slipped inside the classroom with seconds to spare, earning him a scowl from Mr. Hollinger. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief at how close he had come to being stuck outside the classroom for first block, knowing that there was going to be a detention coming his way when the bell rang. If there was one thing this man loved more than trying to discreetly slip in an insult whenever he talked to a student, it was doling out punishments like they were candy.

"Glad you decided to take time out of your busy schedule and join us," said Mr. Hollinger. He sneered at Kurt over the tip of his overly large and slightly crooked nose. "I suggest that you take your seat, Mr. Hummel. Unless, that is, you plan on making an even bigger spectacle of yourself than you normally do."

Kurt flushed and turned to find his seat. He hoped it was in the back as far away from Mr. Hollinger as possible. As his luck would have it, his seat was in the very back of the room and sitting in the seat next to his was...

Him. Kurt nearly stopped walking. He was torn between taking his seat and remaining standing for the rest of class. It would only be a detention, right? How bad could it really be? When compared with having to sit next to those dark curls and hazel eyes Kurt felt like he'd take the detention one thousand times over and be grateful.

"Is there a problem? Maybe you'd like to discuss it with Principal Figgins?" Mr. Hollinger's voice hissed into Kurt's ear. Several kids within earshot turned to stare at the front of the room, surprised at their teacher's tone. Kurt met their stares without flinching. He was used to being judged by his classmates, but this hatred from a teacher was something he'd never had to deal with. It left him feeling more exposed and unsure than he had ever been, even when he had first come out the previous year.

"No sir," replied Kurt, "there's no problem." His voice shook slightly as he spoke, but he kept his chin high as he headed to his seat. Only a few people had noticed his exchange with Mr. Hollinger. Kurt was relieved when they finally lost interest and turned back to their conversations. He risked a glance to the back of the class and saw that the dark curls that made him act like an idiot were fully absorbed in a Calculus textbook, completely oblivious to anything that had happened.

Kurt slid into his seat and tossed his bag on the table as Mr. Hollinger cleared his throat.

"Everyone, quiet down and listen," said Mr. Hollinger. "Instead of prattling on about the coursework we'll be doing or the extra credit opportunities you'll need just to maintain a passing grade, we're going to dive right in. Get out your textbooks and turn to the first chapter." He paused and then made a dramatic gesture of seeming to remember something important.

"I need to mention one important rule for my class. If you show up unprepared, whether you forgot to do your homework, study for one of my tests or didn't bring all of your class materials, you will be escorted out. It's in your best interest to leave before I spot you." He made eye contact with a few people in the room and an arrogant smirk turned up the corners of his mouth.

Mr. Hollinger turned to look at Kurt who dropped his eyes and stared at the desk. His eyes glanced over the Calculus book lying on his desk. The front cover had fallen open and Kurt could just barely make out the name scribbled inside the cover.

Blaine Anderson. That was his name. Kurt rolled the name around in his head a few times and liked the way it sounded. He was relieved to finally have a name for the boy that he had been thinking about almost nonstop since yesterday.

"Yes, it's a Calculus book," said Blaine sarcastically.

The sarcastic tone was back. Kurt vainly tried to figure out what he'd done to Blaine to upset him this early. Yesterday, the boy had gone from curious to sarcastic in a matter of seconds. Today, he still seemed to be stuck on sarcasm. Maybe sarcasm was Blaine's reaction when he was uncomfortable with a situation. What's more uncomfortable than being stuck in an empty bathroom and having to share a desk with the only gay guy in school, said a voice in Kurt's mind. He flinched away from the thought.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," replied Kurt hastily. "I was just trying to see what your name is, since we'll be sharing a desk and all. So… it's Blaine, right?"

"Your observational skills are astounding," Blaine said dryly. He glanced over at Kurt and raised his eyebrows, apparently waiting for some kind of remark. When none came, Blaine turned his attention back to his book with another roll of his eyes.

Kurt bit back the retort he had on the tip of his tongue. His hands clenched and unclenched several times as he tried to calm himself down. He didn't understand Blaine at all. The constant mood swings were giving him whiplash.

He couldn't figure out why Blaine had even spoken to him in the first place. He could have just pretended not to notice Kurt sitting next to him and staring at his book. It would have been easier to ignore him, both now and yesterday in the bathroom. But Blaine hadn't ignored him. Was he trying to make Kurt miserable, pretending to be an actual human being and showing some compassion before slamming the door closed in Kurt's face? If so, he was doing a damn good job of it.

"All of you need to copy down and work the problems I'm about to write on the board," said Mr. Hollinger. "I'll randomly be calling on a few of you to answer problems." Again his eyes shifted to Kurt and again Kurt dropped his own eyes to the desk. He stared at the desk and refused to look up until he heard the squeak of marker against the board.

Mr. Hollinger had his back to the class and was copying a lengthy list of problems onto the board. The class dissolved into a flurry of activity as everyone grabbed their notebooks and hurried to copy the problems that were swiftly multiplying. He bent down, grabbed the books from his bag and tossed them on the table. As he started to open his book, his eyes caught the loopy cursive writing on the front cover. He wanted to smack himself in the forehead.

'Vis-�-vis' stared at him from the front cover of his French textbook. In his haste earlier that morning he had grabbed the wrong textbook. He felt like a target had just been painted on his forehead. Mr. Hollinger had already singled him out with that earlier look, clearly letting him know he was going to have to answer one of the questions. Without his Calculus book he didn't know how to work the problems. And if he couldn't work the problems he was going to be humiliated or kicked out of class. Or both. Maybe he could just crawl under the desk and sneak out of the door before people noticed.

"Lost?" Blaine's voice once again broke through Kurt's concentration.

Kurt couldn't help but glance up. Blaine wasn't looking at him. He was focused on the cover of Kurt's textbook. His lips were mouthing the words as he tried to figure out their meaning and Kurt was momentarily mesmerized.

Blaine's hazel eyes were soft and his lips were slightly parted. Kurt had a sudden impulse to lean in and see if those lips were really as soft as they looked. He started to imagine the feel of those lips against his, what Blaine would taste like…

He cleared his throat quietly and focused on a point just above Blaine's head. His neck and face were flushed. If he looked at Blaine now, with all of those thoughts circling in his mind, he risked calling attention to a certain part of himself that a straight boy like Blaine might find disturbing to know he was the cause of.

"What do you mean 'lost'?" asked Kurt. He was surprised at himself for answering back. He might have been daydreaming about the boy, but that didn't change the fact that Blaine was trying to break the world record for annoying him to death. The rational part of his brain wanted to ignore Blaine and those irritating little quips he was so fond of. The irrational part of his brain wanted to hear the voice that belonged to those hazel eyes, no matter what it was saying.

"I mean that, unless this school makes you answer your Calculus problems in French, you're in the wrong place." Blaine's eyes flicked once towards Mr. Hollinger, who was still copying problems onto the board like he was a kid with a new box of crayons, before turning back to Kurt. His eyes paused for a brief second on Kurt's face.

"I just grabbed the wrong book out of my bag," Kurt hissed. He wondered why Blaine was staring at him. It was unnerving, those hazel eyes this close to his face. It made him nervous and he wanted Blaine to look away so he could get his thoughts together. He hoped his answer had provided enough of a distraction. It had.

"Is that so?" Blaine pulled his eyes away from Kurt's face and glanced across the table at Kurt's empty bag. "It looks to me like your bag is empty." Blaine smirked.

Kurt felt his temper reach a boiling point. It was bad enough that his teacher had decided he was scum of the earth for his sexuality. But having Blaine play tug-of-war with his emotions was the final straw. Friendly to mocking, considerate to conceited… enough was enough.

"Your skills of observation are unparalleled," snapped Kurt. His voice was sarcastic, matching Blaine's earlier tone. He was tired of playing this game and wanted it to be over with. He was done with Blaine, at least until the boy decided to stop acting like he had multiple personalities.

Blaine stared at him, his expression guarded. Kurt couldn't decide what emotions he saw flicker briefly across the boy's face; anger, arrogance, remorse? He was sure he imagined that last one. Or had he? Had Blaine finally realized he had pushed Kurt over the edge? It doesn't matter, Kurt reminded himself. He turned away just as Mr. Hollinger finished writing his problems.

"I'll give all of you a moment to copy down and work the problems before we start going over answers." Mr. Hollinger leaned casually against the wall. His eyes flickered from student to student. He was looking, no doubt, for his first victim.

Kurt scribbled the problems into his notebook. With everything that had just happened between Blaine and himself, he had completely forgotten about the fact that he was a sitting duck. His French book was still sitting on the desk in plain view. That, coupled with the fact that he had no idea how to solve the problems, was enough to get him kicked out of class. All he could do now was sit and wait.

"Hopeless." Blaine sounded annoyed and amused at the same time.

Kurt refused to look over. He didn't care about anything that Blaine had to say. The boy was incapable of any genuine emotion other than sarcasm. This much he had proven to Kurt more than once. So to say he was surprised when Blaine's hand slid across his side of the desk was an understatement. Blaine grabbed the French book and slid it underneath Kurt's bag and, before Kurt could figure out what he was doing, Blaine shifted the Calculus book between the two of them.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked. He didn't bother trying to hide the look of shock on his face. There had to be some reason Blaine was doing this.

Blaine looked at Kurt like he was missing something obvious. "I'm sorry. Did you want to be thrown out on your ass the first day of Calc?"

Kurt just stared at him. He felt like he should say something and all he could manage was, "Thanks." Kurt said it simply. He wasn't expecting an answer back, but he still wanted Blaine to know the effort was appreciated. Blaine rolled his eyes, but Kurt saw the briefest hint of a smile on Blaine's lips.

"Mr. Hummel," said Mr. Hollinger, "please give us the answer to problem one."

Kurt grimaced. He hadn't had a change to even start working the problems. Blaine's help, though appreciated, had come too late. Kurt glanced down, hoping a sudden understand of all things Calculus would strike him like lightning, when he noticed the page he was looking at wasn't in his handwriting. It was Blaine's.

"Top left corner, fifth line down," whispered Blaine quickly.

Kurt spotted the answer and rattled off, "Negative in parenthesis two x plus five y over five x plus three y squared." Mr. Hollinger stared at him for a moment, daggers in his eyes, before proclaiming the answer correct and selecting his next target.

The rest of the class after that passed in a blur. Kurt tried more than once to catch Blaine's eye, but he didn't make it easy. After snatching his notebook back, Blaine spent the remainder of class doodling in the margins. It was only after the bell rang and Kurt was packing up that he saw his chance.

He waited until a majority of the class had left the room before he asked his question. "Why did you do it?"

Blaine paused on his way to the front of the class. Everyone else passed him by as they headed towards the door. Only when the two of them were alone in the room did Blaine finally turn around.

"You ask too many questions, you know that?" Blaine's expression was guarded again. He leaned against one of the desks and folded his arms across his chest. The movement was meant to be casual, but Kurt could see how stiff Blaine's posture was; he was uncomfortable.

Kurt decided not to point out that Blaine had avoided the question entirely. He had a feeling that he wouldn't get an answer, no matter how hard he pressed. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and started towards the door.

"Make sure you bring the right book next time, Hummel. I'd hate to have to start charging for my services."

"Since when does you being an ass cost others anything?" snapped Kurt. He hated the way hearing Blaine use his last name made him feel.

"It's the price of being friends with me. Take it or leave it."

Kurt paused in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame. He turned back to look at Blaine and his blue eyes narrowed.

"Who said we're friends?" It came out as an accusation, but Kurt was both excited and repulsed by the idea of calling Blaine one of his friends. The boy could be a jerk, no doubt about it. But there was something more there as well, something he was beginning to think he wanted to stick around to see again.

Blaine once again avoided the question. "Take it or leave it?" he repeated. "If you're always this slow, should I go ahead and give you the answers to the Calc homework? I'd hate to have to put on a repeat performance of saving your hide again next class."

Kurt's grip tightened on the door frame until his fingers turned white. It would be so tempting to just turn and walk away. Was a friendship really worth this constant aggravation? He knew the answer almost immediately.

"I'll take it." He left the classroom before Blaine could say something stupid.

He headed upstairs to his next block. His thoughts were whirling out of control and confusing but there were a few things he was sure of. Blaine could be a jerk and putting up with the mood swings and arrogance was going to be a challenge. But it would be worth it in the end or, at least, he hoped it would.

He arrived in his next block well before the bell. His History teacher, Mrs. Baxter, was was an elderly lady with glasses as big as a dinner plate and a collection of odd jewelry in the shape of cats. Apparently, her glasses were just there for show as it took her so long to find Kurt's seat on her chart that he thought she had fallen asleep. He was in the back again at the very end on the right side. And sitting next to him was...

Blaine. Blaine looked up almost as if he had Kurt say his name in his thoughts. The two of them shared a brief moment of eye contact before Blaine smirked at him and slid the chair beside him out a few inches.

"Patti Lupone, give me strength," muttered Kurt under his breath. It was going to be a long day.