It was an average, expected day for one Blaine Anderson.

He woke up as usual, on the wrong side of bed – mind you, and walked across his usual footsteps from his bedroom, down the creaking stairs and to the small, but however lived in kitchen. From there he went to the cupboard, without even looking up at the thing, grabbed the nearest cereal box and placed it on the counter slightly angrily. He stopped for a moment and rubbed his eyes with his right hand, while scratching the back of his neck with his left. He grabbed his usual bowl then, poured it with his usually bought milk and wandered to his living room, with his lop-sided dressing gown following him close behind.

Work was usual, too. Although, working in a boring office where nothing really ever happened, Blaine had come to expect that much. It was Monday, which regrettably, Blaine had recently come to name ''Paperwork day,'' – due to the excessive amount of paperwork he had every Monday, therefore leaving him to get it done all day. He took his regular breaks, however, probably a little more than should have been allowed, but he still did it anyway. Once every two hours, for fifteen minutes, he would either get up, walk to the building's exterior and take a long needed smoke, or he would, if he felt being watched over, simply put down his pen and sit back in his chair for the whole fifteen minutes. Although these might not seem like much, these breaks were about the only pleasure Blaine got from work at all.

At 5pm, on the dot, Blaine rose from his seat and almost ran to his car. It wasn't much, but he never really went anywhere anymore for it to need to be the most flashy of cars – all he really needed it for was work and going grocery shopping, two things he loathed the most in life. At almost lightning speed, or- lightning speed concerning his car, he set off home. Along the way, his mind was filled with possible ways to completely waste the rest of his day away. Perhaps he would watch TV all day? Most likely. Or perhaps he would stray from his ''usual'' routine and go somewhere? Not likely. Maybe he'd go out to a restaurant for once? Not on his own. Maybe he'd order take away? Definitely.

When he arrived home, he wasn't too impressed with himself. His eyes were dropping and he couldn't really keep them open, just like every day. He flung his coat, bag and shoes towards the stairs and they landed together in a messy heap. Blaine sighed, wondering when he would actually get around to picking those up, but with the way he was now wandering around the house like a zombie, he had no idea.

Slowly, but surely, Blaine made his way to his living room again. Once more, he sighed, looking around at the mess. If there ever was an accurate version of a ''bachelor pad,'' Blaine was certain it would surely be his 'pad,' that claimed the title. Pushing odd clothes and rubbish around, he managed to lay on his couch. After about a minute of shuffling, he found a comfortable position, however ridiculous it may look.

He wasn't sure how long he was out of it, it could have been hours for all he knew, not really checking the time before he shut his eyes and drifted to sleep. When he woke, he was brought into life again by an annoying, unwanted ringing. 'Great,' Blaine thought, sitting up and rubbing the side of his head. 'I get some peace and quiet for once, when I don't want anybody, and I'm interrupted by a phone call. Nice timing, asshole.' He slowly lifted himself up and walked over to the phone, with the hope the caller would give up and put the phone down before he got to it. All hope was lost when he reached the phone and the caller was still ringing. 'Persistent,' Blaine thought. 'I really hope it isn't as important as it looks from this end.' He sighed a little, before reaching out and picking up the phone.

''Hello?'' He asked, trying to sound a little bit cheery, but he couldn't be sure it came through like that on the other end.

There was silence for a short while, well – not entirely silence, Blaine could make out shuffling noises from the other end, so he was certain someone was there – if it wasn't for that, he would have put the phone down earlier. "Hello?" He repeated, all cheery-ness completely drained from his voice.

"Ah, yes...Mr Anderson?" Finally. A reply. There was a woman on the other end, who obviously Blaine had never met before.

"Speaking." He replied, almost immediately. He was intrigued now, it sounded more official than he'd ever remembered a conversation over the phone had ever been. He rubbed the same side of his head again with his free hand, trying to stop thinking of outlandish possibilities of what this phone call could be about.

"Oh, thank god." The woman replied, sighing a little at the end of her sentence. "This may sound a little random, but do you happen to remember a Mr. Sebastian Smythe?"

Blaine was cut short. For a few moments, he lost the ability to speak. It had been years since he'd heard that name. Sebastian Smythe had been one of his closest friends in high school, up until Graduation day, of course – when everything went spiralling downwards for their friendship. He hadn't been in contact with him since, he didn't know where he lived, where he was working, if anything. He didn't know whether he was married, whether he was still in town – heck, he didn't even know whether he was still alive or not. 'Oh, no.' Blaine thought, that last little idea began to haunt him.

Blaine had totally forgotten about the woman on the line, until she spoke up again. "Mr. Anderson?" She asked, Blaine was expecting an impatient tone, but alas, this woman was still calm. Suspicious – he thought...or maybe he was just over-thinking.

"Oh, umh yes?" He replied, a feeble attempt at disregarding the question altogether.

"...So, the name...Sebastian Smythe, is it any resemblance to you at all?" The woman asked, her words were getting slower and Blaine figured she was trying to get it all to sink in, just in case.

"Oh, yes definitely. We uh, we used to go to High School together. But why are you-?" Blaine was cut short, again- but this time not by his thoughts, but by the woman on the other end.

"Oh that's wonderful, just we've never heard him talk about you before and we wondered whether he was just making up stories again." She spat out, he words were almost too fast for Blaine to take in and he realised he had to say something to stop her from filling his head with more junk at lightning speed.

"Wait wait wait. Talking about me? Making things up? I'm sorry, lady – but I'm totally lost here."

"..So we never...?" She began, and Blaine heard faint shouting in the background of the call. Still completely lost, he didn't really want to take it into account. "Have we ever been in touch with you before ?"

"It would have helped if I know who ''we'' was, but I can't recall ever having a conversation over the phone this formal, so I'll just go ahead and say no – I'm pretty sure I would have remembered this one." Blaine replied. He was getting agitated, the fact no one seemed to be giving him vital information about anything was really pissing him off.

"Mr. Anderson, we're sorry we've kept this information from you for so long, we should have – if we had the right staff, you've noted down as a contact for since he got here, just without a number."

Blaine shook his head a little, sighing deeply. "Miss, none of this is going to help if you don't really tell me who you are or where you are or where the hell Sebastian is and why I'm written down as a contact – I haven't spoken to him since graduation, it all seems way too silly."

"This is why we needed to make sure, , Sebastian...well, Sebastian isn't himself. He hasn't been since he got here, that's why he's here. The past few months he's been telling a few of our staff about a ''Blaine Anderson,''. We couldn't be sure whether this person was real, but we recently checked his file and Sebastian insisted your name be kept there when he arrived..."

Slowly, Blaine began to piece a few things together. The woman kept on talking, giving him information he still felt was completely pointless. His thoughts were suddenly like a train station, what would officially be called ''chatter''or ''static'' as he remembered. He had so many ideas on what everything could be, until his thoughts zoomed in onto one word the woman said.

"Asylum,"

Blaine suddenly snapped back into reality, with that one word, all his suspicions were completely, and utterly stupid. Why hadn't he pieced this together before? He should have known, as soon as they started talking about Sebastian not being himself. "You're an Asylum?" He began, trying to keep himself calm, "Sebastian's in an Asylum? Why had I not known about this before? I mean, surely Sebastian would have wanted me to know if he insisted –-"

Once again, Blaine was cut off. " Mr. Anderson, this is our problem. We cannot explain everything to you over the phone, that's impossible. We can make arrangements for you to see one of our staff that knows Sebastian's situation to put you in the picture before you go anywhere near seeing him."

"Seeing him?"

"Yes."

"But I thought that you couldn't—"

"Times have changed, Mr. Anderson, and Sebastian is a different case altogether."