There was a beat of blissful silence before Kurt could hear, albeit strained, the opening notes of "I Kissed A Girl".

He couldnt help but sigh.  This was the sixth Katy Perry song the man next to him had listened to, and at this point he had to physically restrain himself from reaching over and turning the song off.  And maybe telling him that his music taste left a lot to be desired.

Why this guy had to choose this train car out of all the ones to go into and Kurt of all the people to stand next to was beyond him.  It was probably bad luck or maybe just karmic payback.  Who knows what he could have possibly done in a prior life?  But this punishment was way too harsh even if he had, say, viciously murdered an entire town.

It had all started when the train had made its stop at Times Square/42nd Street.  The train car was ridiculously, overwhelmingly, suffocatingly crowded and the massive amount of passengers waiting on the platform didnt exactly alleviate the problem.  Many had gotten off, allowing Kurt to breathe for a few moments, but it seemed like even more people swarmed in.  And thats when this guy, this sick Katy Perry super fan, came into the picture.

He had squeezed into the train car and into the minuscule amount of space next to Kurt and a woman who was exasperatingly trying to keep her four kids under control.  Kurt had to admit that the guy was pretty cute, even if his hair seemed to be weighed down with an entire tub of hair gel.  But his next move killed all that attraction.  

The guy had fished his iPod out of his pocket, plugged his headphones in and started playing "Hot n Cold".  Loudly.  So loud that Kurt could actually hear it.  Kurt had definitely blasted songs before, dont get him wrong, but never to the point of possible deafness.  

That wasnt all, though.  Not even close.  When the song ended, the guy had played "Roar".  And then "Dark Horse".  And then "Firework".  And then "The One Who Got Away".

And now the stranger was bopping his head slightly to "I Kissed A Girl", clearly, shamelessly, enjoying it.  He hadnt even touched his iPod since he got on, making Kurt strongly suspect that he had created some kind of weird Katy Perry playlist.  

Which meant this cycle was going to continue.

Kurt evaluated his options.  He could try and get off, but the train was so horrendously crowded that it would be nearly impossible.  And if he did manage to leave, there was no way he could wedge himself into another car.  Kurt was definitely not going to let himself be late because of some stranger.

"I Kissed A Girl" began to come to a close.  A few moments later it ended and then there was a moment of silence.  Kurt braced himself for the next song, praying to a god he didnt believe him that it wouldnt be yet another Katy Perry song.

But then the words "you think Im pretty without any makeup on," invaded Kurts ears and all of his hopes came crashing down.  He had to admit that the song was cute, but he had enough.  In fact, he had enough a long time ago.  

"Excuse me," Kurt said.  The man looked up abruptly, looking surprised.  He immediately took his headphone off and rested them around his neck but to Kurts chagrin, he didnt bother to pause the song and so it continued to faintly play in the background.

"Yes?"

Kurt nearly blurted out "your taste in music is horrible" but he decided to go to civil route.  The slightly more civil route, anyways.

"Can you," Kurt paused, trying to figure out if there was a way to politely word his inquiry, but there really wasnt.  He might as well be blunt.  "Can you please stop playing Katy Perry?," he said, trying to sound as nice and reasonable as possible.

The guys mouth dropped open in shock and his brows furrowed together in confusion.  For a moment, he seemed truly unable to process this request.  But then he recovered.

"Whats wrong with her?  Shes great."

"Youve been playing her for, like, the last half-hour.  And I can hear it.  All of it."

"Im doing a montage of her," he said, as if this was some kind of justification or made any sort of sense.  Kurt shouldve known when he first saw the guys intensely gelled down hair that he was insane.

"And you dont have any other music play?"

"I mean," the guy scrolled through his iPod, positioning himself so that Kurt could see the screen.  "I have some stuff."

Kurt leaned over to see.  The guy had scrutinized him for a moment, but apparently he didnt seem the type to steal iPods because he let him hold it.  

Kurt scrolled through it.  There was a lot of pop music, a lot of Broadway cast recordings, some stuff from a group called "The Warblers" that he had never heard of, a couple of-

"Shit!"  

Kurts head jerked up in alarm but there didnt seem to be anything wrong.  The train door were open and it was about to become even more crowded, but that wasnt- oh.

"Thats my stop!," the man yelped.  He raced out of the train, practically shoving people out of the way before Kurt could stop him.  He had just managed to get to the platform before the doors shut.

Kurt stared at the man helplessly through the doors.  Fuck.  What he was supposed to do now?

"Meet me here tomorrow!," the guy yelled, strained through the doors.  "Same time!"

The train pulled away then, with Kurts eyes on the guy until he was out of sight.  Eventually, he looked back at the iPod and had started to play one of his songs.  He was so caught up in the music that it took a while to realize that there was a name engraved in the back.

Blaine Anderson.