I knew that watching Glee would give me writer's block! This took twice as long to write as it should have, so I'm sorry about the delay. But yay! Glee is back! Who else is as trapped by the Back 9 as I am?

18: Perfect (Simple Plan)

Kurt wasn't surprised when Ryan told him he'd called Coppola's representative and scheduled an audition-time. He was the one who encouraged him to, anyway. But it still made him a little sad. And that is sad in itself, because he had to reason to be angry with Ryan for pursuing their shared dream of stardom; Kurt knew he would get there eventually. After all, he did have a wonderful vocal range, dance skills, and impeccable fashion sense. Ryan was just getting his chance a little earlier, and that was no reason for Kurt to be angry.

Ryan was nervously fluttering about his dorm room, while Kurt watched with a raised eyebrow.

"The audition isn't for a week," he reminded Ryan in a voice that sounded a lot like a mother scolding a child. "Relax, Ryan. Let's take calm, soothing breaths." His sarcastic tone did not go over well.

Ryan shot him a look. "Don't bad-mouth my yoga," he said, pouting. "It is really quite helpful, if you'd just give it a chance!"

Kurt shook his head. "If I let you teach me your breathing techniques, will you forget about the audition for a moment?"

Ryan sighed. "Probably not." He took of his hat and ruffled his hair, then rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm freaking out, honestly," he said, his eyes meeting Kurt's and staying there. "I never thought I'd be doing this— at least, not on my own. It's just one freaking audition and all of a sudden I'm falling to pieces!" Kurt stood and wrapped his arms around Ryan's stomach, burrowing his nose in his shirt. Ryan relaxed a little at the gesture, but still seemed to be abnormally tense.

"The more you think about it, the slower it will come, and the more you'll freak out. Seriously, Ryan, you have a whole week to prepare," Kurt mumbled into Ryan's chest, his breath tickling his collarbone.

"But that's not nearly enough time!" Ryan protested, his breathing quickening. "I need to begin preparing immediately!"

"If you say so."

"I do say so!" Ryan suddenly grinned, pulling away from Kurt and putting his hat back onto his head, tilting it to its normal jaunty angle.

Kurt sighed. "Why is this so important?" he asked, trying hard not to sound bitter. "It's just one audition. It won't be the end of the world if you don't get the part, Ryan. Your life won't be over."

Ryan frowned. "You really don't get it, do you?" he asked, his shoulders slumping slightly. "If I get this part, Kurt— I'll be proving myself. My dad always tells me that there is no money to be made for a male dancer with acting skills. He's always complaining about how he'll have to support me for my entire life, because there's no room in Hollywood for my particular talents. He's always believed in Sharpay getting what she wants, but never me, Kurt. If I get a part in a real movie, get a real job because of my training, maybe... I don't know. Maybe I'll be worth something, you know?"

His lengthy speech had left his breathless, looking at Kurt hopefully. "Kurt, this is my one shot to prove to my dad— and to everyone— that I'm not just Sharpay's back-up dancer. It's my one shot."

Kurt nodded, feeling like he understood Ryan a little better now. He reached out and took Ryan's hand, giving it a light squeeze of encouragement. "Okay," he agreed, giving in. "Okay."

Kurt learned the hard way about Ryan's addiction to practice. Though he'd seen it a little before the open-house performance, it increased ten-fold when it was for an audition. Ryan's face had lit up the minute he received his audition script (by e-mail, the day after he had been scheduled), his immediate response being to read the entire thing, over and over, about fifty times. (It was a good thing it was the weekend and he didn't have class to worry about when this happened.)

Ryan wrangled anyone he could to help him memorise his lines. Both Kurt and Kelsi had been persuaded to help him, and when they were unavailable in the coming days, Ryan managed to get Hélène, of all people, to read the opposing lines. (Not that she understood a word of them, but that wasn't the point.)

His constant mumbling of, "I seem to have lost all my pencils... Do you have one I could borrow, dude?" was starting to get on everybody's nerves; but of course, the worst line would probably have to be, "No, Judith, of course he didn't drink antifreeze! Why would I let him do that?" It attracted many scares from passers-by when he said it in the hallways, and one girl even asked him frightfully if he needed her to call poison control.

"My name isn't Judith, and this isn't scene twenty-four!" Kurt declared three days before Ryan was set to depart for Los Angeles, his temper finally getting the best of him. "Ryan, just stop rehearsing, for a minute!"

Ryan stopped his monologue, his eyes growing wide. "But you said you wanted to help me practice?" he said innocently, removing his hat and holding it to his chest.

"Yeah, well, I don't!" Kurt sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. "This is an intervention, Ryan."

Ryan cocked an eyebrow. "An intervention?" he scoffed. "You can't be serious."

"Girls!" he called over his shoulder. Hélène and Kelsi, wearing matching expressions of annoyance, walked into the practice room. Kelsi had her hands on her hips, and Hélène hand hers in her pockets; both looked as ready for a fight as Kurt did, who had crossed his arms over his chest.

"It has come to our attention that you are wearing yourself out with all this practicing," Kelsi stated with rehearsed smoothness, her eyes meeting his and glaring defiantly. "You're working even harder than I was, Ryan, and that's just not healthy." She sighed, walking up to him a putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're not eating properly, you're skipping your lectures... did you even go to Modern Dance today?"

Ryan hung his head guiltily.

Kelsi nodded, taking her hand of his shoulder and poking him in the chest. "Exactly! You pulled me out of my over-working habit, and now we are doing the same for you. Kurt?"

"You need a day off," he declared, smiling at Kelsi for her wonderful performance. "I was thinking retail therapy— and if you used the word 'antifreeze' once, or call any of us Judith, we will honestly murder you. Right, girls?"

"Right!" Kelsi said, then looked to Hélène, who shrugged.

"Oui?" she asked hesitantly, and Kurt nodded encouragingly. "J'ai voulu dire, 'Oui!' " she added enthusiastically, once she had to go-ahead.

Ryan's shoulders slumped, and he gave the group a dejected frown. "But I—"

"No buts!" Kurt said, smacking Ryan lightly on the arm for good measure. "We are going shopping, and that is that." He turned to leave the room, and both Kelsi and Hélène turned with him.

"Unless you'd rather sit here by yourself and re-read your lines?" Kelsi asked sarcastically. "Alone, in this lonely, sad practice room..." She looked over her shoulder at him, smirking slightly.

Ryan looked down at the script in his hands. He did already have it memorised, and shopping sounded like a fabulous idea... "What the hell!" he declared, stuffing his script into his bag and reaching out to grab Kurt's hand. "I've got it down anyway, right?"

Kurt sighed. "Ryan, you're perfect. You're always perfect. Now let's get to Prada before they close."

Ryan smiled. "Okay. But I call driving."

"Then I call shotgun," Kurt countered, sticking his tongue out at Kelsi and Hélène. "The girls get the back seat."

Kelsi stuck her tongue right back at him; Kurt was rubbing off on her, a little. Hélène followed slowly behind the group, her expression a little confused. Kelsi poked Kurt in the ribs as they excited the building.

"Someone needs to get her a French-English dictionary, stat," she whispered, jerking her head slightly in the direction of the French girl. Kurt glanced at her, smiling.

"Christmas present?"

"Absolutely."