Blaine Anderson hadn’t expected anyone to be there. That was why he’d been there in the first place. Sure, he was an incoming freshman and needed to be there for orientation, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know his way around. His family had moved to the area the year prior and once he’d been accepted there for the fall, he’d taken to visiting the campus and learning his way around. It was important for it to be familiar, and not just for him but also for Roscoe, his dog. If Roscoe knew his way around, that was half the battle.

Orientation itself wasn’t exactly his thing. Large groups of students unnerved him, made him anxious, and it was only made worse by the fact that they were all unfamiliar. At least back in high school, even though it had been rough and there had been so much teasing and name calling and alright, bullying, he’d had friends. Not very many, but he’d had some. He’d had those people he could go to when he knew he needed someone. He didn’t have any of those at college, at least not yet, and he didn’t like sitting around in a big group of unknown people when he could hear the whispers. He could practically feel them looking at him.

Not being able to see was Blaine’s least favorite thing in the world, at least if he was being selfish. On his better days, he’d say it didn’t bother him that much, and that he knew there were so many people in the world worse off than him. Who was he to complain, after all, when he had a family, a roof over his head, food on the table, clothes on his back and shoes on his feet? But then there were the bad days, the days when he spiraled down and couldn’t shake it. Because he couldn’t see his family, the roof over his head, the food on the table, the clothes, the shoes. He couldn’t see anything. Those days, the self-loathing days, those were the worst.

It had started to turn into one of those days. The whispers bothered him more than the loudness usually did. Normally when it was loud, when people were yelling or excited or anything like that, he got nervous. It was partially because of the noise, but also because he never knew why. The stress of not knowing, he hated that. That was what had caused him to break off from his orientation group and head for the fine arts building. He’d been inside it before, found his way around. The faculty had been nice enough, and when he’d gone there that day he’d been told that the auditorium was free. The department administrator had taken him to the backstage door so he could get right out to the stage without having to go through the hassle of walking through the aisles, up the stairs, all of that.

He’d managed to get through three pieces before someone had come in. He hadn’t heard the door, he hadn’t heard the footsteps, he hadn’t heard anything. He’d been so far gone into the music that he hadn’t even noticed. Usually he was more aware. So when that person started clapping, it had caught him off guard. His heart felt like it had jumped up out of his chest and into his throat and he took a quick gasp for breath to keep from sounding as startled as he was. His head had jerked up automatically at the sound, and he set his hands on top of the piano to steady himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was going to be here,” he said, gripping a little at the wood of the piano as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and across the stage toward him. “They said I could play, I didn’t think I’d be bothering anyone.”

“Who said you were bothering someone?” Blaine’s eyebrows raised, caught off guard again. Not by the statement, but by the voice. It was lilting, light, and almost gentle. “That was beautiful. I should be the one apologizing, for disturbing you.”

“Oh,” Blaine said, pursing his lips and flexing his fingers to loosen their hold. “Thank you. You don’t, um, have to apologize.” He shook his head, carefully running his hands over the keys without pressing them down. “I’m glad you liked it?”

“Are you a freshman?” He nodded, shifting a little on the bench. “I thought so. The music department isn’t that big, and I’m sure I would have remembered you.” Blaine balked slightly, the corners of his mouth turning down almost automatically. Of course he was memorable, but not for any good reason. He pushed himself up from the bench, and Roscoe got up from where he’d been laying beneath the piano. “Is that a dog? ….oh.”

Oh. That one syllable said so much. Oh. It was the realization that made Blaine want to cringe, want to hide, want to go back to being just Blaine who wasn’t remarkable in any way that would make people pity him. More than he hated the pity, which he really hated a lot, he hated that there was no way he was ever going to escape it. It was something that was going to follow him around for the rest of his life, without fail. He wasn’t even sure what he would choose, if push came to shove and he had to pick one -- teasing or pity. And even though he had gone through the trouble of trying to push himself through not having one of those days, he totally was.

“I’m going to go,” he mumbled, patting his leg lightly and waiting for Roscoe to brush up against him before reaching down for his harness.

“Wait.” Their voice was different, just slightly, and Blaine’s fingers tightened on Roscoe’s harness. “Do you want to go get some coffee or something?”

“I don’t need or want your pity,” he said shortly, the words leaving his mouth before he realized he’d actually said it instead of just thinking it for once.

“It’s not pity. I...” There were footsteps, and Blaine bit his lip because he could feel how close they were getting. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. My fault. I’m Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

“Blaine Anderson.”

“Well, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt said, his tone back to the lightness it had before. “If you aren’t busy, which I’m kind of guessing you aren’t, I know of a great little coffee shop uptown. It’s just two blocks away, and I’m buying. I owe you for that amazing piece you played just then, after all.”

“You don’t have to do tha--”

“This is not pity,” Kurt said firmly. “I’d just like to get to know a little more about one Blaine Anderson, who just completely made me forget about what I was planning to do with my break because of his amazing piano skills.”  Blaine almost smiled at that, but he nodded. “Yes? Good.”

Blaine knew exactly where Kurt was taking them. Coffee shop uptown, just a block or two away from the campus, the only place it could be was Java Central. It was a small café which could be easily crowded, but it rarely was. When his family had moved to town, it had been one of the first stops they’d made after unpacking the moving truck and needing a break. He’d been stopping by there every morning before going to campus, so it was a familiar path that they walked up the block.

Kurt just kept making polite, casual conversation, but it didn’t feel like he was trying to dance around questions that he really wanted to ask but didn’t want to say. He just genuinely sounded interested in talking about what great weather they’d been having, and how he liked the brick sidewalks that were around the streets near the college and uptown as opposed to the standard concrete ones. He’d even complimented him on his bow tie, mentioning how very few people wore such a great fashion anymore, and even fewer could pull it off like he did, a comment that had made Blaine blush lightly. By the time they got to their destination he felt oddly at ease with Kurt, all tension from the auditorium gone.

“Here we go, Java Central,” Kurt said, and then paused. “Hm. I don’t know if…” he trailed off, sounding vaguely uneasy. “I mean, there isn’t a sign or anything.”

“A sign about what?” Blaine asked, puzzled. He’d just been there that morning and everything had been fine, so he assumed they hadn’t closed unexpectedly.

“…if they allow dogs inside or not,” Kurt said quietly, clearly unsure if it was something he was alright to say.

“Oh.” Blaine bit his lip. “Roscoe’s fine, he can go in.” That seemed to be good enough for Kurt, and he heard the jingle of the bell as the door was opened, and he headed on in.

“Did you know what you want? If you don’t, I mean, I could… give you options? They have a pretty big menu.” Kurt sounded different than he had when they’d been out walking up the street. He’d been all ease and normalcy out there, but now that they were actually in the coffee shop, he sounded like he wasn’t sure how to approach things. How to approach Blaine. Thankfully, all that was quickly interrupted.

“Blaine, you’re back!” Sugar was one of his favorite baristas there. Everyone who worked there was nice, but Sugar had a knack of making him feel more at ease than anyone else. “Did you want another medium coffee?”

“Or… you could totally be a regular here and I’m just babbling for no reason,” Kurt said, amusement clear in his tone.

“I was just going to let you keep going,” Blaine admitted, grinning slightly. “It was kind of cute.” The words were out before he could stop them, and he could feel his cheeks flushing again. It had been cute. He rarely went places like that with people other than his family, and they of course knew his coffee order easily or if it was somewhere else, what options he definitely wouldn’t want to have, so they narrowed it down. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been somewhere with someone else, and had that person think of him and what he was going to get before they took care of themselves. That just made him feel a little bad about how he’d snapped at Kurt in the auditorium, but it had just been an automatic reaction. “That sounds great, Sugar, thanks.”

“Sure thing,” she said. “And what can I get you?”

“I’ll take a medium non-fat mocha, please,” Kurt said, tutting lightly as Blaine fished into his pocket for his wallet. “None of that, I said it’s on me.”

“Are you sure? It’s not a big deal, I can—“

“I am incredibly sure,” Kurt said, speaking over the whirring sound of milk steaming and the beeping of the cash register. “I owe you, remember?”

“You guys can go ahead and sit, I’ll bring your drinks out,” Sugar said cheerfully, once she’d given Kurt his change and he’d dropped it into the tip jar. “And can Roscoe get a treat, or is he cut off since he got one this morning already?”

“I think you’ll seriously start edging me out for Roscoe’s favorite person if you give him another one,” Blaine said, grinning, but he couldn’t help but cave. “You can, though.” Sugar squealed, clapping excitedly before turning to finish their drinks.

“So do you have a regular place to sit?” Kurt asked.

“Not really, just wherever’s open,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “I don’t like sitting too close to the counter, if it can be helped.” He reached out automatically, his hand resting on Kurt’s arm, but then he pulled it back. “Sorry, habit.”

“No, it’s okay,” Kurt murmured, taking Blaine’s hand and hooking it into the crook of his arm. “There’s a table over by the window, in the sun. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine,” Blaine said, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he focused on trying not to blush anymore than he already had been. Kurt led him over to the table and he carefully slid into one of the chairs, and Roscoe laid down at his feet.

“Here you boys go,” Sugar chirped as she came over and set their drinks down on the table. Blaine’s fingers straightened out from where he’d had them curled on the table in loose fists, and brushed against paper of his cup. He wrapped both his hands around it, taking in its warmth. It might have been hot outside, but the air conditioning in the café was on full blast and he was glad for the hot coffee warming his fingers. “Blaine, I put a little cinnamon in there cause I remembered you doing that this morning before you left, but let me know if you didn’t want it like that. I just thought, well, I remember! So I did. And I had some biscotti I didn’t know what to do with, so you two enjoy those, alright?”

Blaine dipped his head a little, smiling as she crouched down to give Roscoe a treat, but then the bell on the door jangled and she was off back to the counter. Kurt coughed, but it sounded more like he was trying to cover up a laugh. “What?”

“I think she likes you,” Kurt said, and Blaine pulled his cup of coffee in closer to him.

“She’s nice,” he said, but he shook his head. “I’m pretty sure she likes Roscoe best.”

“Well I don’t know if I can doubt that,” Kurt said, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “We just got biscotti, but he most definitely got lots of scratches behind his ears. Definitely the better deal, at least comparatively, from a dog’s perspective.” Blaine grinned, popping the lid off his cup to help it cool down to a drinkable temperature. “So, Blaine Anderson. I feel like I should know more about you. Are you from here, originally? I’m just guessing, what with the regular status here.”

“Well not originally originally,” Blaine said, his fingertips grazing across the top of the table as he searched for the biscotti, taking one off the plate and dipping it into his coffee. “My family moved here about a year ago. Where are you from?”

“Lima,” Kurt replied dryly. “Definitely not an exciting place. I like it much better here. Alright, so you’re from here kind of. You’re a freshman, piano major, do you know who your private instructor is? Salido is amazing, if you are lucky enough to get her.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Blaine started, taking a bite of his biscotti and chewing over it thoughtfully before swallowing and shaking his head again. “A piano major, I mean.”

“You’re not?” Kurt set his cup down on the table, and Blaine could almost feel Kurt’s eyebrows raising.

“No, um, I’m an English major,” Blaine answered, sinking the biscotti back down into his drink.

“Why the hell aren’t you majoring in music?” Kurt asked, and then he paused. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m just saying, you’re really good. I’ve spent the past year going to student recitals and some recitals done by the faculty, and you could definitely blow all the students out of the water. You play beautifully, Blaine. I can’t remember the last time I heard anyone play with that much passion.”

“Um, thank you,” Blaine murmured, knowing full well that he had to be blushing from the compliments. He never did take them well, and he could never figure out what to say in response. Usually he settled with deflection, either disagreeing with them or just plain changing the topic. Music was a particular point of pride for him, so that was an easier compliment to take than something about himself. “It was just something that, I mean, I’d love to but it wasn’t something I could do.” He took another bite before attempting to turn the focus away from himself. “What about you? Piano? Or…”

“Definitely not piano,” Kurt said with a light snort of laughter. “I mean, I can play alright, but not even close to how well I would need to play to do that. I did my proficiency last year no problem, but it’s not like that was too complex. After taking piano class for a year in college, I would expect to be able to play scales, sight read a little, and improv over some chords.” He stopped to take a drink. “My mom always said I had the hands for it, something about pianist’s fingers, but I never studied it growing up.”

“Can I see?” Blaine asked, resting his biscotti on the rim of his cup before holding out his hand, palm up. A split second later, he started to pull his hand back. “Sorry, that’s weird.”

“No it’s not,” Kurt said, catching his hand before he could take it off the table. Blaine cupped his hand between his own, running his fingertips along his fingers. They were thin, slender, and Kurt’s mom had been right – very perfect for playing the piano. His hand was so soft, too, and Blaine made himself pull his hands back to his coffee cup, taking off the biscotti before lifting it up to take a drink. “Well? What’s the verdict?”

“You do have pianist’s fingers,” Blaine said, setting his cup back on the table but not moving his hands. Well, not until Kurt gently prised one of them away from it to hold up against his own. “What are you doing?”

“Comparing,” Kurt said simply, keeping a light grip on Blaine’s wrist as he held their hands together. Blaine felt like his breath was catching in his throat, just from the gentle way Kurt was touching him. He knew he’d just basically done the same thing to him, but he had a reason. No one ever did that sort of thing to him. It felt weirdly intimate, what Kurt was doing.

“So what are you majoring in, then?” he asked, trying to brush the feeling away as Kurt let go of him.

“Hm? Oh, vocal performance.”  

“Oh,” Blaine said, going back to holding his coffee cup between his hands. “I bet you sound amazing.” Kurt made an indiscernible sound and Blaine bit his lip. “Sorry, was that creepy? I just meant, your voice is so nice just talking, so it must sound really good when you sing.”

“No, it wasn’t creepy,” Kurt said, reaching over and lightly touching Blaine’s hand for a moment. “Thank you. I mean, obviously I’d like to think that I sound amazing. There are so many people at this school who are incredible vocalists, it’s easy to get discouraged sometimes. At least I’m kind of a commodity, so that keeps me from getting too hum drum about how great everyone else is. Not saying that I think I’m a jerk about it or anything, I still work really hard --”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted, trying not to giggle. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re being a jerk. There’s nothing wrong with being proud of yourself, especially in regards to something you’ve worked hard for.”

“Thanks,” Kurt murmured, and then he cleared his throat. “So, what dorm did you get stuck in? Or wait, your family lives here, so… are you living on campus?” There had been that pause again, like he wasn’t sure if he was okay to ask, and Blaine shook his head.

“Neither,” he answered, his thumb absently rubbing against the seam of the cup in his hands. “I was going to be in the dorms but, um, I couldn’t be. Not with Roscoe. The whole no pets thing. I mean, he’s not a turtle or a goldfish so… yeah. My parents thought I should get used to being on my own, though, so I have an apartment just up the street. Well, it’s not really an apartment. It’s like half of a house? You know how they split them up so more people can live there?”

“Yeah,” Kurt said, tapping his fingers on the table. “That’s ridiculous, though. You’d think they’d make an exception.”

“I don’t mind,” Blaine said quickly. “I like it better this way, I think. Dorms seem like they would be loud, and there are just so many people. I have a roommate, and they’re loud sometimes, but at least they’re just one person. I don’t… like being around a lot of people all the time.” It was all true, but he didn’t add how he hated when people made exceptions for him, how that made him feel almost worse. That was the problem with wanting nothing more than to feel normal, but knowing that he never would be. “Plus I have to go past here to get to campus, so it’s pretty much a win-win.”

“You know if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a coffee problem,” Kurt teased, and Blaine was glad to hear that any seriousness that had been in his tone before was completely gone. “Baristas know you by name, know your order by heart, and you chose a place to live based on its proximity to caffeine…”

“I can’t really deny that,” Blaine said with a grin. He opened his mouth to say how it had only been part proximity to the college but really he’d decided against a place a little closer because it meant he would have had to walk the opposite way to get to Java Central, but his phone started going off.

“REPORT TO YOUR JAM TEAM. JAM JAM JAM JAM-JAM JAM JAM JAM JAM-JAM-- ” Blaine flushed, almost knocking his coffee over as he tried to get his phone out of his pocket and shut off the alarm.

“What,” Kurt started, sounding like he was trying not to laugh, “was that?”

“My stupid brother,” Blaine muttered, fully aware that his face must have been red by that point. “He thought the term JAM team was really funny and so he set all my alarms for orientation with that. He… likes setting my alarms so he can make up his own messages. They’re helpful, but mostly annoying. He got my roommate turned onto the idea and now it’s like a toss-up of whose voice is going to horribly embarrass me at various parts of my day.”

“Well ‘JAM team’ is one of the dumbest terms I’ve ever come across,” Kurt said, huffing out a quiet laugh. “Just Ask Me teams. Why they couldn’t just call them orientation groups, I have no idea. Of course they had to try and be clever, but that clearly didn’t work. What team are you on?”

“Four,” Blaine said, carefully putting the lid back on his cup.

“Ah, so you have… Rachel and Sam as your leaders?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, lifting his head, his brow furrowing a little. He didn’t mind Rachel and Sam, really. They were both nice, even though Rachel was overly enthusiastic. Sam had made about ten different sci fi references in the first three minutes of meeting everyone, so he was definitely alright in Blaine’s book. “How’d you know that?”

“Oh, I’m a ‘JAM team’ leader,” Kurt said, and Blaine could almost see the airquotes around the words. “We’re super great on JAM team eight,” he added chipperly, before laughing. “Fun times, yeah? We probably should head back, though. I’m sure I’m going to get some sort of grief from my partner about not being there early to help set things up.”

“I’m sorry, you could have gone back, we didn’t have to sit here for so long—“

“Blaine, stop that. I’m glad I was here with you instead of there doing God knows what. This was a far, far better use of my time, believe me.” Blaine bit his lip, but nodded. “I’m going to go give this plate back to Sugar.”

“Alright,” Blaine said, getting up out of his chair and reaching down for Roscoe. He scratched behind his ears while he waited for Kurt to get back, and then they both got what was left of their coffee and headed back for campus.

Truth be told, he was sad to be going back to his own group and not just go with Kurt to his. No one had been outright rude or mean to him, but no one had been particularly nice. He hadn’t felt as comfortable with anyone like had with Kurt. Sam sat next to him most of the time when they were in their group, and tried to include him as much as possible, but it felt like he was trying a bit too hard. Rachel, too. Blaine was glad when the ‘mandatory’ activities for the day were over and he could actually head home.

“If you guys don’t have any plans for tonight, Sex at Seven is happening over in the auditorium of the fine arts building!” Sam announced as everyone gathered their things to leave. “Or if you just want to come and see us orientation leaders be really bad actors and make complete fools of ourselves, that’s cool too! We’ll be there.”

“Sam, that’s not what this is about,” Rachel cut in, sounded snippish. “It’s a very important presentation about the dangers of unsafe sexual relations and also safety when it comes to parties and alcohol. This isn’t something to joke about!”

“Yeah, yeah, but also we’re making complete jackasses out of ourselves, so....”

Blaine couldn’t help but chuckle and Rachel and Sam sniped back and forth at each other, and he quietly gathered his things and headed up the street toward his house. It had been a long day, full of lots of things. The constant stress of being around groups like that, it wore him out. Part of him wondered if he was cut out for college, but he knew he was. It would just take a little bit of time to adjust, but he would be fine. Belatedly, he thought about how he maybe should have gotten Kurt’s number from him. Then again, that seemed like a very forward thing to ask. They’d had coffee, sure, and Kurt had been nice to him, but that didn’t mean anything.

If he was supposed to have it, he was sure there’d been another chance.  At least that’s what he told himself as he unlocked the front door and headed in for his room, not wanting to deal with anything but a door closed to the rest of the world and music streaming through the space around him for a while.