Okay, so this is the first real chapter. I hope it makes logical sense and all that jazz and that people are not too disappointed with the way I made their future lives :D Oh, and I know I mentioned to some people that I would explain how Blaine was living with a girl in this chapter, but I don't really think I have... sorry :D I hope you enjoy it anyway.


Chapter One: Second String

The train rumbled to a quick stop and Blaine Anderson stood up, straightening his suit jacket and grabbing his briefcase and laptop that had rested beside his knee during the journey.

Bodies crushed against each other in their rush to reach the door and Blaine waited, letting them disperse before stepping out of the train and onto the platform. He always waited. It was something he had done since he first arrived here in LA, and he'd never found a reason to change. Sometimes, people would give him sideways glances, as if to wonder why he would be courteous to other people in the car. But it was how Blaine was, and there was no way he would change just to avoid the stares.

He climbed the stairs into the station and looked around himself. This was another thing he did every morning when he arrived here. It was like he had to breathe the city in and experience it before moving on to the important job he played in the music industry.

Yeah, right.

He bit his lip and kept walking, closing his eyes for a second to push the thought from his mind.

I love my job. I love my job. I love my job.

But he couldn't even believe himself. Not when he was spending every day like this.

A burst of fresh air hit his face and he opened his eyes onto the city of LA, where summer reigned predominantly, and no one understood quite what it was like to be normal. The land of Hollywood, and Disneyland, and one too many buskers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man who he recognized as Spiderman, even though they had failed to make sure the suit was actually blue and red. It was an odd shade of purple and orange. Perhaps the colour had run in the wash? On his other side, Blaine saw a man covered in silver paint attempting to walk the robot along the sidewalk, his feet shuffling against the concrete.

'Blaine!' a voice called. 'Blaine Anderson!' A man waved from a dark car parked on the opposite side of the road. Blaine bit down on his lip again in something almost like annoyance, but changed his grip on his briefcase and darted expertly across the road, dodging the traffic.

'Blaine, buddy,' the man said jovially, sliding into the backseat. 'How're you doing? That gay thing still working out for you? My girlfriend swears I'm getting a boy crush on you, the amount of times I rave about that talent of yours.'

'Thanks, Marcus,' he said through gritted teeth.

'No problem, my friend. I love telling people about you. You're amazing, you know that?'

'You tell me so every day.' Blaine tried to keep his voice peppy, but he could hear the hint of sarcasm that loomed behind it. 'You still don't let me sing the songs,' he whispered to himself. 'You'd still rather the plastic clones get all the credit while I do all the real work.'

Blaine knew he was bitter. That was something no one else had to tell him. He hated his job, writing songs for "singers" while struggling to work on his own broadway ideas and getting somewhere in the music business. From the day he left Ohio for LA, he had been sure that he'd be able to break into the business. He had been one of the star singers for some of the best Glee clubs in the area, but in the big city, Glee clubs didn't seem to matter. It was all about how "sellable" you were, not how talented. And it made Blaine angry that the most he was becoming in this world was a name printed in tiny writing on the inside of a CD booklet.

'So, tell me, Mr Anderson,' Marcus said with a toothy grin, lifting his briefcase onto his lap. 'How's this play going that you've been working on?'

Blaine's eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn't ever tell anyone about his play. It was something personal, an achievement he hoped to keep to himself until the opportunity arose to make it a proper reality.

'What are you talking about, Marcus?' he asked.

'You know. Background Music. That's what you're calling it, right? That play that I always see you working on while I'm in the studio with the artists. That's where your real passion is, isn't it?'

No, Blaine felt like saying. My real passion is singing. This is just the best I can get without you grinding it into the floor too, without you stealing every bit of comfort I once had.

'Yes,' he said softly instead.

'Well,' Marcus said slowly, raising the last syllable in an attempt to build the tension. 'I've got the company to agree to produce it!'

And Blaine felt like he was falling through the floor.


'Yes, I understand. Thank you for your time. Sure, I'll audition for the next show. Thank you again. Bye.'

Kurt Hummel placed the phone back into the cradle and let out an audible sigh. The silent room echoed back at him, bare and desolate. He let his knees collapse beneath him and sat down on the sofa, running his thumb along his forehead. He could feel the headache building there, coursing in the veins below the skin.

He hated New York. That was all there was to it. He hated that it was the city that never slept, because getting a night of uninterrupted sleep was like finding the Holy Grail. He hated that no one understand the meaning of the term "privacy". He hated that he was always under appreciated for his talents. He knew there were roles on Broadway needing of a countertenor, but no one was willing to take the risk on such a flamboyant gay when there were other men who had an okay falsetto that could pull off the parts. And if worse came to worse, they could always cast a female actor in the role.

It was just so frustrating though, that even though he had these bucketfuls of talented, no one wanted a part in it. He'd moved to New York with Rachel Berry after graduating from high school and where she had been accepted into every role she auditioned for, Kurt was pushed into the background, vying even for parts in the chorus. It was like the first Warblers audition all over again. He was too big, too alive, to play any of the parts they wanted him for. And so he suffered.

'Kurt?' the voice that called out was gentle and soft and he sighed in relief, turning around on the sofa.

'Hey,' he replied. 'How was your day?'

The man stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him, and dropped his briefcase at the door. Hanging his coat on the hook he shook his head, letting the curls land naturally around his face and stepped across to the sofa, laying his hands on Kurt's shoulders. 'My day was great, how about you? Any calls?'

Kurt nodded, biting his lip. 'Yeah. The casting director called and told me he wasn't interested.' He leaned his head back, looking into his boyfriend's eyes. 'Thanks anyway.'

'No problem.'

Kurt knew Ethan was only trying to be nice, but he sometimes wished that he wouldn't ask about the auditions. They surely had to be at the stage that no news meant bad news. Asking only made it worse in Kurt's opinion, and sometimes being silent was what he needed.

Ethan leaned down to press a kiss against his lips, but Kurt turned his head, pushing the younger man away. 'Sorry, Ethan. I'm just not interested tonight.' He stood up, walking over to the kitchenette, and pulled a tub of ice cream out of the freezer. The spoon was still sticking out of the top and he took a mouthful in silence.

'Oh, come on, Kurt,' Ethan complained, stepping towards him again and trying to wrap his arms around the man's waist. 'I'm not that annoying am I?'

'As a matter of fact, yes,' Kurt said, but there was a slight smile behind the words, and Ethan grinned.

'Fine then. I'll leave you alone. But later I need your help with those designs I showed you yesterday, so you better be ready for some hardcore fashion, baby.' His mouth was spread in a grin with teeth showing, but Kurt only nodded and took another spoonful of his ice cream, watching as Ethan backed into the bathroom sticking his tongue out in the hopes of making his boyfriend smile.


The conference room seemed empty now that everyone had cleared out of it. Blaine let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall, the first traces of a laugh bubbling in his throat. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the curls off his face. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. It should be happiness, he knew, but there was a part of him that was still concerned.

He'd shown the production team his musical, and they'd liked it. Sure, they liked his songs all the time anyway, but this time they told him he could be an assistant-director. Not the star, or even director, but at least it was something. He had some kind of input instead of just blindly placing his heart and soul into someone else's hands and watching them mold and twist it to their will.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell. It took him a few swipes before he could successfully unlock it with his shaky fingers but as he pressed call and held it to his ear, his voice was steady.

'Hey, Tan. I have some news for you.'

The woman's voice was light and airy as she replied. 'Oh, yeah? That's awesome, Blaine. What is it?'

He paused for dramatic effect and spoke in hushed tones, 'They're going to put Background Music on Broadway.'

Tanya's squeal was infectious and soon Blaine was lying with his back on the floor staring up at the ceiling and trying to calm his breaths. 'Am I dreaming?' he asked her, his voice barely more than a whisper.

'I sure hope not, Blaine,' she replied. 'Because if you are, my whole work day has been part of your dream-verse and I earned double pay today because my shift-mate didn't turn up.'

But Blaine wasn't even listening. 'I think I've died and gone to heaven.'

'Blaine,' she said. 'Blaine. Blaine!' But he was deep in thought, biting his lip as he stared at the ceiling. 'Fine, Blaine. I'm going to go now. Being supportive of you is cutting into my lunch hour. I'll see you when I get home, okay? Don't get hit by any cars. Don't take candy from strangers. Don't get impregnated on your way home. Okay? Okay, Blaine?'

But he was already dragging the phone away from his ear and pressing 'end'. A thought was forming in the back of his mind, a thought that was threatening to bring him down from his success-induced high.

They were putting Background Music on Broadway. Broadway. Broad-frickin-way.

In New York.

Where Kurt was.


So, I hope you like it. If anyone wants to take a stab at the obscure Starkid reference, feel free. Please also feel free to send me your opinions on what you think should be done better/altered/scrapped all together, and what should be kept! I'm all for feedback on this story, and I'd love to hear your opinions now that the plot is properly getting underway. This story is set to be about 20 chapters long, and hopefully I'll be able to stick to it :D

Can't wait to hear from you all!

xoxo Wynnie