Erm… I know you guys expected something else, but I suffer from sudden, long-term writer's block. I get it a LOT, and if I force myself to write it sound rushed, and well… forced. And I have that. On ALL of my stories. So, sorry to the people expecting a janitor's closet story, or some other random thing, because I decided I need to rewrite that story, and BAM! Writer's block. Once in a while I bang out a story quickly and it's good quality and everything.

AU, takes place in NBK, the dialogue is most definitely different because I haven't watched any episodes before Furt (but I have Season 1 on DVD, so I know that stuff). Some events were changed for the story.

Enjoy, I hope.

Oh, before I forget: If I was Ryan Murphy, I wouldn't need a fanfiction account. I would just snap my fingers, and voila! Klaine.

Unfortunately, that doesn't happen for me. *snaps* Nothing. *wallows in self-pity*

It was a fact of life. Every human was born with a few words written on a body part. Like fingerprints, the phrases differ per person, as did the piece of anatomy.

Or, that was what Kurt Hummel's health teacher said. As Mr. Johnson explained the concept to the class, Kurt stared at his hand. His right hand, to be exact. And Mr. Johnson's voice seemed to fade into the background and for a few seconds, it was just Kurt and the words on his fingers.

"My words are on my arm," confides Rachel one night. Kurt and all of the other New Directions girls in attendance turn to look at her. She moves from her spot on Kurt's bed to the floor, where everyone else is seated. She rolls up the sleeve of her (Kids 'R' Us, Kurt notes) shirt to reveal her upper arm. Mercedes leans in to see the writing, and falls back snorting.

"What?" Rachel cries indignantly. "It's true!"

Only then does Kurt see the words spelled out in a loopy scripture:

A star is born.

The room rings with laughter for a second, before a warm silence settles on the group.

The silence is soon broken by Lauren, surprisingly, who turns around and pulls down the waistband of her sweats an inch, revealing bold print stating Large and in charge. Soon the occupants of the room are pulling up sleeves or pulling down socks, showing off their uniqueness. Kurt, meanwhile, settles into his own world again. It's not until a sudden silence rings through his ears does he look up.

"C'mon, Porcelain. Show us yours." Santanna links her pinky with Brittany's once again.

Almost reluctantly, he obeys. He turns his palm toward the group, fingers splayed. There, displayed on his index finger, his pinky, and the two fingers in between are 4 words:


No fancy text, nothing bolded or special in a way to make it stand out. Not even a punctuation mark ending the strange mixture of words.

Quinn gently grabs his hand, examining the nonsense. "I don't get it." she finally admits, releasing his hand.

"Maybe," Tina says quietly, "It's one of those one-in-a-million things."

The room quickly grows quiet as everyone stares eagerly at her. A bit flustered, Tina continues her story. "I heard that once in a while, very rarely, a person is born with an incomplete marking. And someone out there in the world has the other half of their phrase. And if the two find each other, they become soul mates. Like two halves of a whole, y'know?"

Kurt stares at her doubtfully. "How many gay guys with an incomplete sentence on them are there in Ohio?" His question is met with silence. "Exactly."

"God will find a way." Quinn's hand flies up to her mouth, immediately regretting mentioning God in the presence of her atheist friend.

But Kurt waves away her muttered apology, deep in thought. What does this mean?

Kurt's fuming all the way to Dalton. Who did Puck think he was, waving his arm around as he insulted Kurt, letting the world see the phrase on his biceps, proclaiming that he was a perfectly normal heterosexual boy?

He parks and throws on his black jacket. He knows he could've done much better, but in a fit of rage he dug the first thing out of his closet that resembled the uniform.

Sighing, Kurt stands on the stairways of the vastly huge Academy. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he grabs a passing boy's arm. "Excuse me, could I ask you a question? I'm new here."

Kurt didn't remember what was said after that, barely paying attention enough to say his name. He caught "Blaine," and "Warblers," but his mind melted as he stares into the hazel pools of Blaine's eyes.

"C'mon." Suddenly Blaine's fingers were intertwined with his, and they were running, no, to Kurt it felt like floating, down the hall.

"If you'll excuse me." Blaine releases his hand, and it falls limply to his side. He misses the warmth the other, calloused hand provided, but he soon forgets because oh.

You think I'm pretty

Without any make-up on.

Kurt stares, transfixed, at the source of the voice, the curly haired boy he had met a minute earlier. And for a second it's like Health class: only him and that voice.

I finally found you

My missing puzzle piece.

I'm complete.

But the flying sensation soon ends as the song draws to a close, and for a fleeting second, Kurt believes Blaine sang to him.

It must have been his imagionation.

And then Blaine's fingers are mingled with his again, and he's leading him down the deserted hallway. And Kurt is overwhelmed with happiness, and he's floating again, and he gazes at their hands, looking so perfect together-

And he stops in the middle of the hallway, gaze stuck on their hands.

"Kurt?" The words roll off his tongue deliciously, and that's enough to snap Kurt out of his haze.

Timidly, he holds up their intertwined hands, slotting Blaine's fingers to the spaces between his own, and Blaine gets what he's doing.

Because together, the nonsense on their fingers spell out an all too familiar song lyric that suddenly is full of meaning.


I hope you liked this. It would've been out sooner, but now I have an enforced bedtime of 10 PM because I tried staying up with my friend until two thirty AM for her birthday.

Sue: Review this piece of crap and tell the author how stupid this is.

Blaine: Ms. Sylvester, that's not very nice!

Sue: Now, Frodo, kindly shut up before I shave off your curly hair and stuff it into your mouth. How long do you think it will take for you to suffocate on that disgusting amount of gel?

Blaine: …O_o