Kurt hates public transit.
He hates the way forty or more people are crammed into a space as big as his living room, hates the smelly blue seats with stains on them he doesn't even want to think about, hates the thick stifling air that has been circulating inside the bus for hours, days, weeks.
Standing at the bus stop, he tries to soak up as much as possible of the damp, clean morning air. Kurt has never been particularly fond of being squished in a vehicle with strangers, but after that one time in Columbus he even feels sick when he thinks of buses.
The bus's tires squeal as it stops right in front of Kurt, and its automatic doors are hissing their welcome at him. "Come in," they seem to be saying, "there's a nice sticky seat just for you."
Kurt steps in and delicately pulls back his hood that was supposed to protect his hair from the light rain outside. Well, the way his hair looks now with all the cold sweat that's running down the back of his neck he is tempted to hire Paul Mitchell as his personal hairdresser. If he is going to make it out of that bus alive, that is.
By the time the bus pulls away, Kurt is settled in a seat near the back door of the bus. His bag and coat are spread out on the seat next to him, making sure no one will sit there. He was just getting somewhat comfortable when the bus reaches the next stop and at least ten people hop on, all of them happy to escape from the now pouring rain.
A young woman feeds her baby. Two old men are trying to figure out how to use their cell phones. A little elementary school kid spits out his chewing gum and sticks it to the slimy window next to him. Kurt makes a mental note to never ever lean his head on the cool glass and gets out his small bottle of hand sanitizer.
Now the bus is starting to get really crowded, people pushing down the aisle trying to get to one of the last unoccupied seats before someone else does. Kurt pretends not to notice all the people giving him the evil eye and just scoots over a bit so he's sitting on both seats. He almost thinks he's going to be able to keep the extra space to himself until he reaches his stop when a dark haired boy his age walks up to him.
"Um, excuse me… Is this seat taken?" The boy's hazel eyes darken for a moment when he sees the frown on Kurt's face, and he adds, "I kind of sprained my ankle. It would be good if I could sit down…"
There's another free seat a couple of rows behind them, but the bus already pulls away and the other boy really does seem a bit wobbly on his feet, so Kurt tries to ignore the wave of claustrophobia welling up inside his chest and makes room for the boy to sit down.
The boy with the gelled hair turns to Kurt to introduce himself. "I'm Blaine, by the way," he smiles. "I'm Kurt. Sorry about that… I'm just a little… well, um, I have kind of a problem with, you know, uh…"
Blaine interrupts Kurt's attempt at getting out a proper sentence. "You have claustrophobia, right?" Don't worry about it; I used to be like this too."
The warm, genuine smile that Kurt receives makes him relax a little, and when he tries talking again real words spill from his mouth instead of jerky sounds that would make any angry bird jealous.
"Oh really? Finally there's someone who understands me! Usually everybody makes fun of me for that."
Blaine chuckles, "That's horrible! Why would anyone do that?"
"I guess because it's just absolutely ridiculous?!" Kurt giggles.
They talk about high school and how they're both looking for something to wear to Prom as the bus stops at the mall.
When they pass the train station, Kurt tells Blaine that he's in Glee Club and it turns out that Blaine is, too.
By the time that it stops raining, they discover that they both adore West Side Story.
They've been on the bus for almost half an hour when Blaine reveals that he is gay. Kurt thinks even if a truck ran over him he would still die with a big loopy smile on his face.
Kurt's stop approaches and he is contemplating not getting off the bus until Blaine does, but then he remembers the sheet music Mr. Schuester told him to buy for the next Glee rehearsal and so he grudgingly presses the button to get off.
It doesn't occur to him until later this evening that he forgot to ask Blaine for his number. But sure enough, when Kurt takes the same bus line the next day, the dark haired boy plops down in the seat right next to him and presses a piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it into Kurt's hand.
Kurt loves public transit.