Blaine was late.

And not the occasional "Oh, I got caught in traffic" excuse. But the "my whole morning was a disaster and I just want to go back to sleep and start this day all over again" late.

To start off, his alarm on his phone hadn't gone off, cruelly letting him sleep in way too late. And while he was scrambling to organize all his boxes in his practically empty apartment, he couldn't find his hair gel, forcing him to go all natural and curly for the day. Then when he finally got out of the house, he had stubbed his toe in his car door while being focused on the mountain of boxes skyscraping over his small frame, cutting off all his vision.

When he finally finished shoving all the his boxes in his small, beat up but faithful Volkswagen, he knew he needed his coffee or this 9 hour long drive would end in a car crash. After he had gotten his medium drip from his favorite local place, The Lima Bean, he had ended up tripping and spilling it all over his shirt. With a few curse words being whispered under his breath, he continued driving.

Blaine reached his destination, his travel mate and soon to be roommate Rory's house, forty seven minutes late.

"What the hell man?" Rory asked him after jumping into the passenger seat. "You look like crap. Rough morning?"

"You have no idea," Blaine groaned and gratefully accepted the coffee Rory had obviously made while waiting for his tardy friend. "I think this is a sign that this move is probably not a good idea."

"Are you kidding right now?" Rory gaped back at his obviously insane friend. "I'm pretty sure you were the one that had wanted to go to New York since we were 8 years old. And I'm pretty sure you're the one that begged ME to go with you on this- what did you call it again? Oh yeah, 'C'mon Rory! It's the chance of a lifetime!' And I'm-"

"Okay, okay," Blaine interrupted, rolling his eyes while getting onto the highway. "But don't act like you're not a little scared. I mean, we've lived in Ohio our whole lives! We haven't even seen the ocean!"

"Then isn't it time we did? Blaine, you've wanted to go to New York since we got out of high school 2 years ago. You've wanted this job forever," Rory replied.

It was true. Ever since he was little, Blaine knew he wanted to be a singer. When he was 5, he wrote his first song. Sure, it might have only had one verse and was about Disneyland, but it was a start. Ever since then, he had over a dozen journals tucked away under his bed, full of small tidbit poems or full songs. He knew this was what he wanted to do, and set his mind to head off to New York the second he received his diploma.

However, it wasn't that easy. He ended up staying in the sleepy town of Lima, Ohio when he received the heart breaking news that his application to Julliard had not been accepted. He tucked away all his dreams and took classes at the local junior college and working as a waiter at Breadstix, and whenever he could, begging for different gigs to keep his talent alive.

After almost 2 years of doing that same thing, he was cleaning up from his Thursday night gig at The Lima Bean when a middle aged man wearing a business like expression to go with his suit walked up to him, completing him on his talent and telling him to get the hell out of Lima, because he could make it big if he really tried. Then the man tossed a confused Blaine his card. Turns out he was a big time producer, and he wanted the next big thing; he wanted Blaine. In New York.

Three months later, Blaine's bags were packed, his goodbye's said, and his little blue Volkswagen was on its way to New York, along with Blaine and his childhood best friend Rory, who still had no idea what he wanted to do, and accompanied his mate so he wouldn't get too lonely in the big city.

"I know, I know. But I think I was just in love with the idea of this happening. And now that it really is...I don't know...I'm just being paranoid," Blaine shrugged.

"Don't worry, bro. You totally got this," Rory said, squeezing his shoulder with a smile.

"Thanks, bro," Blaine said, reciprocating the grin. "You're the best."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't forget to mention me in your Grammy speech."

X~X~X

Four hours into their journey, Blaine and Rory heard a noise that they defiantly did not want to hear.

They heard a tire pop.

The two boys looked nervously over at each other before Blaine pulled the car over. Blaine's GPS had told him to get go on some strange road, and now they had a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania.

Blaine opened his door first, using his hand as a visor, and looked as far as his tired eyes would allow seeing that no cars were coming down the road. Meanwhile, Rory had unfortunately found out of the lack of cell phone service.

"Great. Just peachy!" Blaine screamed to no one in particular, running his hands through his dark curls out of frustration.

"Um, well let's think of all the good things we have in this situation," Rory, always the optimist, started to list off all the positive things: like it wasn't raining, and they still had a good hour or two until it was dark.

"What are we going to do?" Blaine said mostly to himself, ignoring his friend's rant.

As if an answer to his unsaid prayer, Blaine heard a faint motor in the distance. He scrambled out of the car, tripping over his own feet as lights came over the hill. Both of the young men began waving their hands frantically.

But the car, an old pickup, kept driving.

Blaine was about to run after the beat up vehicle when he saw it abruptly stop just a few meters ahead. He cocked his head to see the small figure of a woman coming out of the passenger side, walking up to the stranded pair.

"Flat tire," the girl asked, no, stated, as she walked closer up to Blaine. In the dimming light he could only see her silhouette. As she walked closer, he could see more of the mysterious person's face. She had light blonde hair that was pulled up into loose ponytail, with little curls hanging loosely on the side of her face. She was wearing paint splatted jeans that had definitely seen better days, and a faded t-shirt that Blaine could make out as McKinley High Cheerios. But what really captivated the young musician were the girl's eyes. They were large, almost almond shaped, and were the most interesting shade of green Blaine had ever seen. They were dark green, with hints of brown and gold.

He hadn't noticed how long he had been obviously staring at the girl until she cleared her throat loudly and looked over at him.

"What? Uh, yeah," Blaine chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, your friend over here kind of told me the whole story while you were busy ogling me," she replied, almost teasingly, with a hint of laughter in her amazing orbs. "And by the way, nice coffee stain," she snickered and winked.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Blaine screamed at himself for making yet another stupid comment and looking stupidly down at his stained shirt.

By this time, the driver of the pick-up had come out and began making their way towards the group.

"Quinn?" the voice spoke out, taking large strides towards the broken down car.

"Over here, Noah," she gestured. "This is Rory, and.." she trailed off waiting for Blaine to obviously say his name.

"O-oh. Blaine. My name's Blaine," he stuttered.

"Blaine," Quinn said, nodding at the flustered boy. "They're from Ohio, and looks like they got themselves into a little problem."

"Flat tire," The man Quinn had addressed to be Noah stated. He sighed before turning around and going back to the old pickup. "I'll go get the spare."

"So what are a couple of Ohioans doing in the middle of Pennsylvania?" Quinn asked to break the awkward silence.

"Blaine here got signed with some big-shot producer to be his new singer. We're actually headed to New York," Rory explained.

"I don't have the job yet," Blaine said throwing daggers with his eyes at the Irish man. "But yeah, I get to work with in the studio for a couple weeks," he finished, turning his attention back towards the pretty blonde.

"Huh. We're on our way to the Big Apple, too. It's a small world, huh?" Quinn said, looking back at the pair while Noah joined them carrying a large tire.

"Do you know how to change it?" he asked gruffly, and Blaine, who thought he was an excellent judge of character, knew he probably wasn't the friendly type. So how did he and Quinn get along? She seemed a lot more amicable and sarcastic, while he seemed more reserved and ignorant. Were they dating? Was it bad that Blaine was disappointed at even the idea, when he'd know the two for less than ten minutes?

"Yeah," he answered, grabbing the tire. "Thanks a lot for your help. What are you going to New York for?" Blaine asked politely while taking the tools Noah offered to him and heading to the flattened wheel.

"Fresh start," Quinn simply stated. Blaine had hoped for her to continue, but he didn't want to pry and left it at that, responding with a simple nod.

The group made small talk, mostly about the weather and how their drives were going while Blaine and Rory (with some help from Noah) finished up fixing the tire. Within an hour, the trio had completed the task. Blaine wiped his hands on his ratted jeans and stood up.

"Thanks again you guys. You literally saved our lives," Blaine chuckled awkwardly.

"No problem. And who knows, maybe we'll see you in the Big Apple," Quinn said, waving goodbye while walking away with Noah. When they started the car, she gave the pair one final wave as the engine roared into the distance.

"Blaine? Blaine?! Let's go!" Rory yelled at him while the curly haired man kept looking at the dusty bumper.

"O-oh yeah. Sorry, just tired is all," Blaine stuttered while hopping into the car and starting the engine.

Blaine sure hoped he would see her again in New York.

Did you happen to catch the Aladdin reference in there? ;)