A/N: Greetings readers! I'm no writer, I don't really have much talent. I just get an idea in my head and need to get it out. So thank you for clicking on this story. I will try my very best to do this justice. Reviews and comments will keep me going though! :) And I'll try not be super annoying and leaving very large author notes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Like literally nothing. If Glee were mine- things would be different.

Read, enjoy, review!

31,557,600 seconds.

525,600 minutes.

8,766 hours.

365 days.

52 weeks.

12 months.

One year.

What do you do when you only have a year to live?

You make those moments count.

If there was one thing Blaine Anderson hated more than French class, it was actually doing work for French class. He wished he could blow off this term project, but after all Dalton Academy did have its requirements. And he wasn't about to be kicked out of the school. Not after everything he had done to get there in the first place.

Thusly this entailed doing actual work for the classes. Blaine did not particularly pride himself as being one of the smarter juniors. He was lead vocalist of the Warblers, he was only seventeen years old. Was he really expected to pass French while rehearsing a new Katy Perry number each night?

What was there left for Blaine to do except complete his essay on French history. Wes had point blank refused to help him, though looking back on it, Blaine had to admit that he more or less demanded Wes do the essay for him. And not just any essay on French history, Blaine thought ruefully. The detail and explorations required for this particular assignment had taken him all the way from Westerville to Lima. The Lima Public Library to be precise.

You knew something was not right when you had to travel this far for a school project. Blaine didn't even know why he was even here. He could have just gone to Dalton's library, consequently acquiring the incorrect research. Might as well do this essay thing right then. Resisting the urge to get Madeline off the shelf, Blaine loaded himself down with every French book he could find, somehow he doubted that "A little house covered in vines" and "Twelve little girls" was considered highly regarded French literature.

Taking every thick and old book that he could carry, Blaine proceeded to plop himself down at one of the tables. Evidently every other student in the state of Ohio was given the same enormous amount of school work, because it seemed that everyone was here at the library.

Sitting down he noticed that there was another boy seated across from him, his face hidden by a rather large anatomy book. And upon hearing Blaine's ruckus, Stranger Table Buddy lowered his book a bit, enough to reveal his face.

And Blaine felt his heart skip a beat.

For right in front of him sat the most beautiful boy he had ever laid eyes upon. Pale creamy skin, soft chestnut hair, and brilliantly glowing eyes. the sappy romantic, and very gay, part of Blaine thought that this boy surely had to be an angel. He had never seen anything so perfect before.

So caught up in his thoughts Blaine hardly even noticed that Table Buddy's lips were moving. He blinked and saw the other boy looking at him expectantly. Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but nothing more than an unintelligible grunt of incomprehension came out.

Beautiful Table Buddy laughed.

It was so melodic to Blaine's ears.

"I said 'hi'" Table Buddy said, and Blaine fell in love with his exquisitely high pitched voice. And yet he still could not formulate a response.

"What's the matter?" Table Buddy asked his face transforming into one of playful concern, "Has Ursula got your voice?"

At that comment Blaine smiled and finally found his voice.

"My name's Blaine."

"Kurt."