{A/N}

Hey guys! I'm Dana, your author. :) I hope you guys like this story, Review! :D

Italics= Phone call

Bold= Blaine text

Underlined= Kurt text.

ENJOY! :)

"Sorry" Kurt mumbled as he rushed to pick up the stranger's books that had fallen when he had bumped into him.

"Don't worry about it." The stranger replied. They hurried to make sure their electronics were still functioning, and they stood up and moved on. Little did Kurt know that Blaine Anderson was not somebody who could just walk out of his life. No, Blaine Anderson had a way of becoming the most vital part of a person, even if it bloomed from something as simple as a misplaced phone…

Kurt was awakened by his beeping phone. Actually, as he discovered, it was not his beeping phone at all. It was a beeping phone. A beeping IPhone with a checkered case. He recognized the incoming call as his phone. Before he could answer it, though, it stopped ringing.

"Great" Kurt said, rolling over onto his stomach. He quickly called voicemail and listened to the message:

"Hey. Umm… You don't know me but uhh… I think we accidently-switched phones. I own a black IPhone, and right now I'm calling my number from a Droid. I think it's yours because I remember bumping into somebody today; it must have been you and I guess picked up the wrong phone. Well, call me back if that's true, but if it's not, uhh, sorry for bothering you. Oh, and umm, my name is Blaine. Bye."

The NYADA workload had surely taken a toll on Kurt's sanity, and this only added to that. Kurt had said all through high school that he would never hit that wall that he would be so overwhelmed with work that he would be pulling all-nighters on a daily basis.

Wall hit.

Kurt had always worked hard. No matter how much he liked to say that his moisturizing routine kept him much too busy to bother with homework, he could remember occasions where he was up till midnight doing French homework, living on Red Bull. Now he was in one of the country's most prestigious academies of drama, and Kurt had never remembered a time when he was so tired.

Not only was Kurt physically tired, but he was emotionally tired. The taunting that was haunting him from high school was holding him back now. Even when kids tried to be nice, it felt like pity. Kind of like they thought, "oh, there's a kid sitting alone in the corner who has a hard knock case of the gay face. I'm gonna sit with him." Kurt's eyes, to his eternal dismay, had formed large purple circles on the skin beneath them. His skin was its natural state of waxy, and he was well on his way of getting his freshman fifteen. Kurt Hummel was officially screwed. And phoneless.

And in his world, that's pretty much the same thing.

Kurt called back with a burning frustration that he needed to take out on something- anything. But he decided not to take his anger out on the person possessing his $200 phone.

"Hey… Sorry about not picking up, your phone stopped ringing. You were right, we switched phones. Sorry about that. My name's Kurt, and I am a college student at NYADA, so if you could swing by one day we could switch back. Talk to you later."

Kurt slammed his head against his pillow. Rachel bounced in carrying a tray of steaming sausages.

"Hey, honey. Eat something." Rachel purred. Kurt was silent and motionless. "Aww, sweetie, do you wanna ditch class and have a Barbra marathon? I've got Funny Girl, The Way We Were…" Kurt snapped, the anger was coursing through his body like poison, and came out of him like a white-hot flame.

"I CAN'T Rachel!" Kurt shouted, suddenly vocal. "I have an essay for Choral History, I have to master a routine for Dance through the Ages, and I have to somehow find time to be a secretary for one of the most esteemed fashion designers in the country, maintain a social life, and, oh yeah, stay awake while doing all of that. And now, on top of the bitch that is my life, my phone is lost. My body is shit, and my grades are slipping, so no, Rachel, I can't just 'ditch class'. Not all of us were as fortunate as you to be born with the voice of an angel and win one of the most acclaimed talent competitions in New York City as a freshman." Kurt ranted on a seemingly never-ending drag of breath. Rachel was speechless.

"Do I really have the voice of an angel?" She whispered.

Kurt stormed out, with Rachel's pleas of apology floating out with him as the door slammed.

Blaine contentedly breathed in the fresh, crisp Manhattan air on his way to 'The History of Law'. Blaine's father had let him go to a music school on one condition, that he took at least two business or law courses. "You have got to be practical, Blaine." His father had said. Practicality had never been Blaine's forte. His father had even made him get a job assisting a local firm. He was just answering the switchboards now, but his father was making him aspire (aka: ass-kiss) his way to junior assistant. His mother had a different view of the world. "No dreamer is ever too small, no dream is ever too big." His mother had whispered in his ear the day he went on the train to New York. "Never live up too anyone's standards. Go out there, and show the world your own." She had said. Blaine had since tried not to follow in a path. Per his mother's request, he was leaving a trail instead. With a 'YOLO' attitude, he had asked his girlfriend of four months to move in with him into his shoebox apartment. (The only perk to having a job since freshman year, he didn't have to deal with dorms anymore.) Was it immoral to have her living with him at age 21? Maybe, but Blaine followed his heart, not his religion. She was great, and it had felt right since the day she moved in.

"Hey Blaine. Can I see your notes for Business 101?" said Erik as Blaine walked through the doors of the Swift hall. Erik was Blaine's best friend at Manhattan School of Music. Erik had come out to Blaine the day they had met as roommates.

"This is who I am, and if you have a problem with it, I won't be offended if you leave." Erik had declared blatantly. Blaine had immediately reassured him that he was completely okay with that, and they had been inseparable ever since. They were so close everyone automatically assumed they were partners, and Blaine would never forget the time when his girlfriend was there for one of these accusations:

"Listen, me and Blaine over here have been getting it on for months now, so you have two choices here. You can either walk away slowly, and I will spare you of being humiliated by watching me go all Lindsey Lohan on your ass, or I can vividly describe to you each and every detail of the nooner me and Blaine just finished. The choice it yours." Needless to say, he chose the former.

"Uhh… yeah. Here ya' go." Blaine said, handing him his notes, willing himself to stop staring at his dark brown eyes, and his thick eyelashes…

"Mr. Anderson, a word." said Mrs. Carter tonelessly. Mrs. Carter was your typical law professor. Gray hair elegantly swooped up in a bun, and spectacles perched on her nose, slightly hiding her deducing eyes. Her lips were covered in cheap, red lipstick and permanently formed into a thin, straight line. Blaine followed her obediently.

Mrs. Carter led him into her office, and poured two cups of coffee. Blaine had always preferred a medium drip to the usual decaf laid before him, but he sipped the bitter, black drink just to moisten his throat, which had gone as dry as sawdust.

"Mr. Anderson, it is my understanding from looking at your high school transcripts from the Dalton School for Boys that you are a generally stellar student, and looking at your grades from other classes here proves that statement as well. Yet, your grade in my class has been a high D, low C since September. If you don't get your grades up soon, your going to fail my class this semester, which could greatly decrease your chances of graduating, or getting a law involving job later in life. You're headed down a slippery slope, Mr. Anderson, and it's my job to get you off of it." Mrs. Carter concluded defiantly. Blaine deflated.

"Look, Mrs. Carter, no offense, the profession you teach is one of the most respected where I come from, but I wouldn't even be taking this course if it wasn't for my father. I'm a performer. I have no intention whatsoever of having any other profession." Blaine stated flatly.

"That being so, Blaine," Blaine sat up a bit. She had never called him by his first name before. "A grade is a grade, and a class is a class, despite your personal feelings on the subject. Now, here is some material I want you to read before the exam in two weeks. It will help you. If you study it hard enough, you should be able to scrape by with a B." Mrs. Carter asserted. Blaine had no choice but to take the articles in Mrs. Carter's bony hands.

"I hope you choose to study them, Mr. Anderson. You have real potential if performing doesn't work o-" Blaine didn't let her finish. He had heard this warning too many times before.

"It's going to happen. Just you watch." He declared truculently. Mrs. Carter nodded, but the look in her eyes showed doubt. Everyone thought Blaine was naïve. But what his mother had taught him was that there was a difference between being naïve and being a dreamer.

Blaine was the latter.

After escaping back to his dorm, he cursed loudly when seeing that he had missed a call from the person with his IPhone. After listening to the voice mail, he called back, only to find another answering machine.

"Hey, Kurt. It's Blaine. I'm in Northern Manhattan too; I'll run by NYADA in the next couple days. Please get back to me soon; text me if you want. My phone is kind of my life. Thanks. Bye." Blaine was sick of this telephone tag. He just wanted his phone back.

What Blaine didn't know was that he would be getting a lot more than his phone back from the same source…

"Hey, Blaine. Sorry, I was in class when you called. That sounds good, the phone returning, I mean. Just text me when you're here and I'll meet you somewhere. And I know what you mean; my phone is my life too. Are you a college student?"

Kurt texted this without any intention of hearing back for a while. To his surprise, a reply was shot into the Droid only minutes later.

"Hey Kurt. Yeah, I'm a college student. I go to TMSOM. Are you a freshman at NYADA?"

Kurt excitedly texted back. Here was someone, a boy, who was talking to Kurt out of true willingness, and not out of pity.

"Yeah, I am. WBU?"

Blaine, again, responded quickly.

"I'm a junior. How are you liking college so far?"

Kurt was shocked. He had never been this voluntarily talked to by anyone besides Rachel. He responded like lightning.

"It's pretty good. Tiring, but anything is better than Ohio."

Kurt talked with pure apathy about his hometown. Anyone who had ever lived in Ohio would agree with him that Ohio was one of the worst places in the world to be different. And Kurt was very different.

"Get out! I'm from Ohio too! What area?"

Kurt's mouth dropped. Ohio was so small they were probably cousins. Kurt typed furiously.

"Wow! I'm from Lima. I went to McKinley High."

Kurt not so patiently waited for a reply that came within the minute.

"That's so cool! My girlfriend went to McKinley! Her name's Santana, maybe you know her?"