I wonder what he'd say if I told him how unhappy I already was here.

I wonder if he'd drive the four hours to gorgeous Chicago and take me back to less-than mediocre Lima.

I'm laying on my un-covered standard dorm mattress. I keep checking my phone, waiting for rush forward magically. It's not happening.

I hate this school already. The city itself is perfect, the bright lights and chilly air (which permits me to wear all of my favorite seasonal accessories) are everything I could want. But I don't see a single familiar face. It should be a good thing, but the fact is I just miss everyone.

I miss Tina and Artie. I miss Quinn's ups and downs. I miss my stepbrother's dumb questions and heterosexual problems with his girlfriend Rachel.

Rachel. I miss Rachel.

I check my phone again. 2:24 PM. I mine as well go now. I'd rather be early than late. But it means I'll have to sit around outside of the lecture hall for at least another 30 minutes. I get up and look around my room. My life is crudely shoved into what seems like only a few boxes. Full of memories and my former self. I don't know why I even bothered dragging it along with me. The only thing still a shining resemblence of my former self is the already full closet of clothes that I refuse to shove into cardboard boxes.

I'm on my way to orientation.

Because I'm disoriented.

Had I known I was going to be attending DePaul University in Chicago, Illinois rather than the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, I would have spent a lot more time with her last year. I spent too much time shunning her over an extra curricular that wouldn't have made a difference. But things just changed so quickly the moment I read that letter.

"Mr. Hummel, while we appreciate your application, we must maintain our standard of selecting the best possible..."

I feel tears forming in my eyes and I know I've got to push those back. I'm not about to start off as a homesick townie. I'm not gonna get any closer to making friends that way.

-

I reach the lecture hall in the main section of the school, the center of campus.

There are a few people sitting outside on the floor or on the bench located just outside the double doors. Two girls who are typing on their Macbooks, sitting quietly next to each other. Closer to the doors is a tall muscular boy who can't stop fussing with his blonde hair and can't find a comfortable way to stand waiting. Against the wall is boy playing on his PSP, almost silent with earbuds in and no expression except for the concentration on his face. And a few feet away, a small dark-haired boy sitting on the bench alone. At least, I think he's dark-haired. It looks more like he's wearing a shiny black helmet.

I take a deep breath and decide that I'll sit between the two boys against the wall. It's less threatening. I try to avoid looking too long at either of them as I approach my new spot on the floor. I set my shoulder bag on the floor and begin taking my jacket off.

"You can sit here if you want."

I look up instantly. The small boy on the bench is moving his bag from beside him to the floor between his feet. He's putting on a friendly face, but he looks unsure. Nervous.

Like me.

"I didn't mean to take up the whole bench," He clarifies quickly. "You don't have to sit on the floor. You can sit here if you want to."

But he's trying to be kind. And I'm not in any position to turn that down.

"Thank you." I say. I pick my bag back up and move the few steps towards the bench. I set it down as far as possible on the other side of the bench from the boy. I remove my jacket and set it on top of my bag. I look back at him and smile. "That's really nice of you."

He looks back up at me and smiles. I see his face fully for the first time. And then I see his bowtie.

I sit down on the bench next to him.

"So this is suppose to start at... 3:00, right?" He asks me.

The question is so casual. Maybe he isn't nervous. Shit.

"Yes. 3:00." I answer just as casually back. Hopefully I won't sound as anxious as I feel. I try to stretch out the conversation. Small talk is how you make friends, right? "Did you finish the summer reading?"

He looks at me. He's smiling again. "I did. How 'bout you?"

"I'm at chapter 27, so, almost done."

"You know we're supposed to finish it before tomorrow, right?"

Excuse you. "I'm aware."

He chuckles. "Sorry I didn't mean- I just didn't know if you knew."

"It's ok. I'll get it done, anyway." Great. Well there goes my first shot at a friend. I let my attitude slip in too early and no one is going to want anything to do with me. "I just had other things I was doing this summer. It wasn't really a priority."

"Where are you from?"

The question kind of surprises me. "Ohio."

"Me too." He turns himself to face me more.

I decide I'll turn to face him more too.

"Oh cool. Where are you from? I'm from Lima."

"Westerville."

I nod. "Gotcha." I am trying to keep my calm, but I am suddenly so glad to have arrived early to orientation. I watch the passing students as we carry on the conversation.

"So you spent your summer with your friends then?"

"..Yeah. Yeah I did."

"Me too."

"How did the move go?"

"As well as it could have gone, I guess. Yours?"

He doesn't respond. I look up and catch him staring at me.

For the first time, I see his eyes fully. They're big and lined with dark, long lashes, and have the most unusual shade of golden-hazel irises I've ever seen. After a moment, he blinks and looks at his feet, laughing at himself. "Uh, it went well. Parents were a little emotional when they were leaving, but everything else is fine."

While he keeps his attention elsewhere, I take the opportunity to actually look at him now. He is short, that's for sure. But he's lean. He's wearing a plaid button-up with rolled up sleeves just above his elbows (he's got some arms... I wonder how sturdy they are. I control my urge to reach out and feel them), a pair of yellow pants (how did I not notice those before?), and brown Sperry's. I look back up at his face, cleanly shaven, but signs of scruff poking from his chin. He has a strong jaw that is very inviting. And he's wearing a simple striped bowtie at his neck. My eyes follow upward and stop at the Adam's apple just above it. It bobs as he swallows.

My throat is dry. When did my throat get dry?

I blink and try to refocus.

"Are you nervous too?" I ask.

He looks back up at me with a sort of deer-in-headlights look. Caught. He gives a little laugh. "Yeah. It's weird being so far from home. And not knowing anyone." He rubs the back of his neck and closes his eyes. It's really hard not to watch his eyes roll back as he exhales. He reopens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

"Me too. I'm not excited about not having any friends."

I see his attention shift back to me. My stomach shifts. I look at him, our eyes meeting.

"Surely it won't be so hard for you to make friends."

"...Huh?"

"I mean, it's not hard for a good-looking guy to meet people at college."

I'm about to ask him if I heard him correctly when our orientation leader opens one of the heavy doors with a loud 'click' and starts ushering us in. Slowly, the mass of students (when did all these people get here?) enters the room and takes seats in multiple rows.

I stand up and grab the strap of my back with my jacket and throw it over my shoulder. My bench-buddy stands and does the same. We wait awkwardly for the mass to allow us to blend and enter the room.

The boy turns to me and quietly says, "You wanna sit with me?"

I can't form a response. I nod.

"My name's Blaine." He holds out his hand.

I reach out and take it. I shake it dumbly for a moment before his grip brings me back. I look up at him and smile. "Kurt."

"Well, Kurt," Blaine smiles. "You already made one friend. Come on, let's go compare schedules. Maybe we have a class together."

"What dorm are you living in?" I ask before I can stop myself.

Blaine smiles and starts rifling through his backpack as we look for a pair of seats in the lecture hall.