The world of fashion is deadly, takes no prisoners, and has an increasing talent for driving even the strongest of personalities into nothing more than another aspiring designer collecting unemployment. Kurt Hummel hoped to defy what seemed to be the fate of most who try to enter the fashion world and eventually create his own label. In order to become a designer it always takes much more than talent, which Kurt obviously had, but also an unbelievable amount of vision and drive, for which Kurt seemed to have reached a standstill.

As he sat at his sewing machine in the middle of his modest apartment in New York City, the twenty-three year old Kurt Hummel felt a great sense of designer's block. The fact that he'd been unable to produce a substantial creation since he'd graduated from college was not only discouraging, but now extremely aggravating.

Of course he had designed dozens of dresses, blouses, men's suits, women's jackets and so on. Started them? Yes. Completed them? No.

In his workroom he was surrounded by dozens of unfinished garments. Yes, he'd only graduated from college a few months ago, and no one really expected him to have a full collection quite yet. But if he was going to get an internship with any major design company in New York he would need to have an extensive portfolio that not only included the designs he created during fashion school, but designs that he created on his own and in his own time.

As he sat at his desk, the sound of a piano kept interrupting his thoughts. He'd seen it being wheeled into the apartment next to his a few days before, the previous owners of the residence having moved due to a job opportunity, and a new one taking its place. The walls of the apartment complex were so thin—as if they were made of paper—he could hear almost every single note being played. Not that the music wasn't good, for it was, but the constant starting and stopping began to play out like Chinese water torture in Kurt's head.

With frustration and piano chords consuming his thoughts, he dropped the pencil he was using for sketching and walked straight toward the front door of his apartment. Once out in the hall, he marched to the apartment next to his and banged loudly on the door.

The music coming from inside the apartment stopped all at once and Kurt froze. What was he doing? Kurt didn't like confrontation and the last thing he wanted was to argue over harmless piano playing.

Kurt started swaying on the back of his heels. With each passing second Kurt became more and more regretful for his burst of frustration. Kurt was just about to forget the whole thing when the door opened.

"Sorry I took so long, I had to find a shirt," said the young, dark-haired man as he opened the door to his apartment. He was wearing a dark red t-shirt and some short sweatpants that were riding low on his hips.

"You had to find a…" Kurt shook his head and tried to snap out of whatever thoughts were running through his mind. He was nothing that Kurt was expecting. Because there were so many schools in this area of the city, most of the apartment building was filled with either teachers or children.

When Kurt didn't say anything more the young man-maybe one or two inches shorter than him-broke the silence. "Well, you knocked on my door, so I'm assuming you want something," he said smiling.

Kurt blinked a few times before blurting out, "I need some sugar."

His smile faded away and he crossed his arms. "Oh, so I guess you thought you could just waltz your way over here and I would give you some?"

He was thrown off guard and all of a sudden felt very self-conscious. Should he just tell him why he really came over? "I'm sorry; I'll just be going back to my apartment then." Kurt started turning back to his apartment before he was interrupted.

"Don't go, I'm just messing with you," his neighbor laughed, an even bigger grin gracing his lips. "So what do you need the sugar for?"

"Sugar?"

"That you asked me for…" Oh right, he asked for sugar. He started again when Kurt hesitated to find an answer. "Sorry, I tend to ask too many questions." He held out his hand in Kurt's general direction. "I'm Blaine Anderson."

Kurt took Blaine's hand and shook it, a small smile forming on his lips. "Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

"I knew we hadn't met before. I'm usually really good with voices."

"Voices…?"

"Well, there was this one time where I mistook this forty-year-old woman for my previous roommate. She did seem surprised when I tried to walk home with her… I promise, I'm not a stalker," he laughed.

And that's when Kurt noticed some things he hadn't before. The way Blaine held almost too closely to the doorway, his delayed reaction to Kurt's speaking, and how his eyes weren't really focused on anything. Blaine was blind.

"So which apartment do you live in?" Blaine asked, a smile never falling from his lips.

It wasn't until a few moments later that he realized Blaine had said something. "Oh, I live next door."

It looked as if Blaine had an idea, because he quickly changed subjects. "Do you want to come inside? I know it's late but I have some ice cream in the freezer, the real expensive stuff."

Kurt laughed a little at the thought of having ice cream, of all things. "I don't know; I really should be getting back to my work."

"My playing hasn't been bothering you, has it? It's just I have to compose this piece for a concert…"

"You can play the piano but you can't—" Kurt cut himself off before he could finish his question. There were a lot of blind pianists, like Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder.

Kurt suddenly remembered why he had knocked on Blaine's door in the first place, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Blaine it was bothering him. "Not at all, it's very lovely and I've really enjoyed listening to it."

Blaine's cheeks started turning red as he began retreating back into his apartment. "It was really nice to finally meet you. I don't know many people in the building yet."

"Well if you ever need anything I'm right next door," Kurt told him as he started inching back to his apartment.

"To the left, right?" Blaine paused for a moment, like he was trying to figure something out in his head. "Well, the left of me, the right of you…"

Kurt nodded, although it didn't take him much time to realize Blaine couldn't see the gesture. "Yeah, apartment 8B." Kurt began to feel awkward standing there in the middle of the hall, and he was starting to feel anxious, for reasons he couldn't figure out.

"Well I hope you have a good rest of your night, Kurt."

"You too." Kurt didn't really know what to say, or what to do. So he just walked back to his apartment slowly, making sure Blaine was going back inside.

When he walked back inside his apartment he leaned against the door and grumbled a few incoherent words. So he'd gone over to ask his neighbor to stop playing, but instead, he told him the equivalent of wanting him to play more.

He shut his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. It was only nine o'clock, but he might as well get some sleep. He had an early shift at the coffee shop he worked at, and it was going to be the first day of school for both the public and private school students of New York City, so he would definitely have one busy morning.

It was only a few seconds before someone was knocking on the door behind him. It startled him and he opened the door much quicker than he should have.

From outside the door, his startled new neighbor jumped away from the door and sugar went flying.

"Blaine!"

"Sorry, sorry." Blaine dropped to his knees and started feeling around the carpeted hallway for the box of sugar he dropped.

"No, let me get it." Kurt kneeled down and picked up the sugar, coming up just in time to come face to face with Blaine, their noses less than an inch away from each other. Kurt couldn't help notice Blaine's insanely bright eyes, which almost made Kurt think he had to be wearing contacts.

Kurt pulled away and stood up, watching Blaine do the same. "You forgot the sugar," Blaine said, almost hyperventilating from how quickly Kurt opened the door.

Kurt smiled at the fact that Blaine came all the way over to give it to him, even if he really didn't need it in the first place. "Thanks…I'll get it back to you tomorrow."

"Take as long as you need." Kurt could tell Blaine was blushing…and some part of him found it really very…cute.

"Goodnight," he said, holding the sugar close to his chest.

"Hopefully this time it's for real." Blaine laughed.

Kurt shut the door after Blaine started walking away. Maybe it was a good night to make cookies from scratch like he'd always wanted to.

Thank you for reading! Reviews are always welcome! :) And there is much more to come!