"You're going to go right from the grand jete into the arabesque. Hold two, three, four extend, and then down."

All ten men in the class marked the jump into the arabesque, stepping over and then continuing to follow the instruction.

"Two chaines with arms in first position, Sean. First one on releve, second in plie, to jump into a back attitude turn, land, tendu to second, prepare on two, into in double pirouette, then right out into four fouettes, to the side for four, back to passé for one turn, and then down into fourth."

All the men had their legs in varying positions, hoping to do last minute reviews before their instructor had them do the entire variation full out.

"Kurt."

The chesnut-haired boy in near the back of the class's head popped up at hearing his name and after seeing that it was his teacher beckoning him over, he ceased his stretching and made his way to the front of the class.

"Yes, Mr. Goya?"

"Kurt, can you tell me why you're not wearing black ballet shoes to class today?" All the boys stopped their review and subtly tried to eavesdrop on the conversation at the sound of their teacher's thick accent becoming more obvious with his fervor.

"Uh, well, these ones went much better with my outfit…?" Kurt said with mock innocence pointing to his white top and black tights, causing a few snickers to sound behind him.

"Mr. Hummel I very well know that you know that this is a professional environment, one where we will adhere to the dress code," Goya said with finality, implying there was to be no discussion. "Now, because you are new to this class, I will not make you leave, but I do ask that you perform the variation now."

Kurt's smirk momentarily faltered into a look of surprise with a hint of fear, but was quickly restored. "Gladly," he said, waiting until the rest of the boys had taken their place on the sides before he nodded to the pianist and began.

Kurt's grand jete was followed with calls of "shoulders down, Mr. Hummel, feet…feet!" and he could here his teacher release an audible groan after his back attitude leap. This reaction was not one that Kurt Hummel had become accustomed to. Not even at his studios as a kid were his teachers this outwardly negative—he was always the poster child, the male ballet protégé, the favorite of the studio—never was he decent or mediocre.

After numerous calls of "extension" during his turn combination, he finally landed, breathing a little heavily from exertion he looked across to see the face of his fellow classmates trying desperately to cover up their awe and surprise at his ability, which gave him a smug sense of accomplishment, before turning to see the unsatisfied face of Mr. Goya.

Kurt, still holding his end position, looked at the man expectantly. Mr. Goya slowly walked up so that he was closer than normal to the boy's face. "Whoever's been telling you that you're the best thing since sliced bread your entire life needs to come to New York and see what your up against," the man turned around on his heal and began to exit the class, causing Kurt to stand up normally before the man stopped in the doorway and turned around, "because I'm not so convinced. Class dismissed."

As Kurt huffed and turned to the side of the studio, he saw the faces of his peers, faces ranging from dumbstruck to smug to trying to control fits of giggles. Kurt rolled his eyes and walked past them, taking off his ballet slippers, pulling up his ABT sweatpants, his American Apparel sweatshirt, and his putting his Uggs on his feet, before quickly packing his bag and leaving the dance studio without a word.

….

Kurt was less loud than his usual self at dinner that night, everyone seeming to notice, but refraining from commenting after one remark was vehemently denied. Just having a bad day, they all supposed. As Trish, a short, brunette from Indiana who specialized in modern jazz techniques, went on and on about this guy she had met at the Starbucks a few blocks down, Kurt continued to stab the salad on his plate with his fork, not eating anything, and looking around, not focusing on any single thing, and definitely not the conversation at hand. He really didn't notice how out of it he was until he heard his name being repeated many times by a shrill voice that could only belong to his friend Zoe.

"What?" He asked, with more venom than he had intended, as he finally found where the sound was coming from.

"Jeez, Kurt. I was just saying that Cass is over there and that maybe he could cheer you up."

Before Kurt could react, he heard a voice behind him teasing, "Cass is where?" before he felt a hand trailing down his back. When he didn't get a reaction from Kurt, he placed his tray on the table in front of him and sat down next to the aforementioned boy, "Hey," he said smiling.

"Hi," Kurt replied non-commitally, going back to stabbing his salad.

"What's up with him?" Cass asked the table, causing Kurt to roll his eyes but refrain from saying anything.

"Beats me," Mike chimed in, "came back from class and has been sulking ever since—"

"You know," Logan began across the table, "Wasn't today his first day in Goya's junior class.?"

"You guys can stop talking about me like I'm not even here," Kurt snapped, finally taking a bite of his salad.

"Dude, we're just trying to help," Matt piped in.

"Don't call me dude," Kurt said as he rolled his eyes again. When everyone stared expectantly at Kurt, he huffed and put his fork down onto his plate, glaring around before finally speaking, "It's nothing, I'm just a little peeved after class today cause it's just different."

"Oh not the best anymore, Hummel?" Cass teased, causing Kurt to halt his speech, turn to the blonde man and give him his best bitch glare. Cass quickly apologized with, "I was only joking, jeez," before lowering his head in a gesture that told Kurt to continue.

"No, I was still the best, but the teacher—he's just a bit of a hard ass. Nothing I can't handle."

Everyone at the table seemed to acknowledge the statement with various "hmms" of assent, knowing that if they tried to contradict him, it would not be a pretty sight. Everyone knew that Kurt Hummel was not only one of the crowned jewels of the freshman class at Julliard for classical ballet, but also had the ego to go with it; and no one wanted to see that ego let loose.