The bed covers smelled familiar. When Blaine had pulled them out from his suitcase, it was like releasing the smells and warmth of the past few weeks into the air. He tried to let it linger for a while but it dissipated, dissolving in wisps until it was all gone, leaving him standing in his old dorm room with the florescent lights and the twin closets and the small bathroom with the tiny sink and posters of places in Europe he'd love to go.

Wes was out for the afternoon. Blaine had the room to himself. He glanced over at the pile of homework on his desk—even with all the cramming he'd done over the past few days, he was way behind. It could wait though, he thought, checking his phone one more time for messages.

Blaine sighed and flipped over onto his stomach. He'd just close his eyes for a moment, he promised himself as his eyelids started to flutter shut. He could lay there forever.

When he woke up, the sun was beginning to set. Boston was so pretty. He got up and cracked open the window a bit, letting the cold air rush it. It felt nice against his face. He needed to get out, he needed to get away. So he grabbed a jacket and his keys.


He was hungry, and he contemplated food. There was a sandwich shop, a coffee house…he stopped at each one but each time it was too loud and too reminiscent of everything he'd tried to run away from. He ended up walking the campus. He recognized a few people and they waved a little over-enthusiastically, but Blaine thought it was sweet of them. He did feel a little self-conscious, however, when a boy from his government class came up and gave him a hug. He felt himself absentmindedly tugging his sleeves over his wrist.


It was nearly nine o'clock when he got back to his dorm. By now the sun had completely set and the room was ice cold since the window had been open the whole time. Blaine closed it and crawled into bed, not bothering to change out of his clothes.

He overslept the next morning, waking up only because Wes came out of the shower to find Blaine's alarm clock going haywire and promptly shook him until he woke up. Blaine was going to skip breakfast but Wes gave him a firm look and marched him to the dining hall where he gave Blaine way too much food and stared him down until he ate it all.

By the time he got to class, he was late, full, and embarrassed. The professor smiled at him as he slipped into a desk in the back row. He tried to pay attention but it was hard when there were fifty-nine pairs of eyes staring at you.

When the class ended, Blaine began gathering his stuff up. He was about to leave when his professor called him over.

"Anderson?"

Blaine made his way over to the professor's desk. He was an old man, very experienced and accomplished in his field of study. He was a little intimidating, too, at times, what with his owl-eyed glasses and lanky grasshopper sort of figure.

"I'm glad you're back," he said, sounding genuine but stern at the same time. "Take your time to catch up on the material."

Blaine nodded.

"There's going to be an exam this Friday. If you are feeling prepared you may take it with the class, if not, you may take it Monday."

Blaine nodded again. "Thank you, Doctor Stephens."


By lunchtime, Blaine was exhausted. He only had one more class in the afternoon and it was very tempting to blow it off. Instead of lunch, he headed back to his room. He just needed a moment of quiet, a moment that wasn't filled with concerned eyes and stacks of paper.

Sitting down on his bed, he realized that he hadn't checked his phone since last night. There were five missed calls, all from Kurt. Blaine swallowed. If he called Kurt now, Kurt would want to know how he was doing. Blaine didn't want to give him bad news. He would wait to call until he got things under control, until he could report that things at school were great, that his classes were great, that everything was great.


Tuesday passed and he didn't call because he was positively swamped with homework. Wednesday was a mess because there had been a pop quiz and he wasn't up to date with the reading. So by Thursday, he had thirty-eight missed calls and twenty-two texts, all from Kurt.

"You're phone's ringing…again," Wes called to him from their room. "Who is it you're avoiding?"

"I'm not avoiding anyone," Blaine sighed and poked his head out from the bathroom. "It's just Kurt. He probably wants to know how I'm doing."

"How are you doing?" Wes sounded serious. Blaine shrugged.

"Alright, I suppose."

"You really should talk to him. That phone is going to vibrate itself off the side of the table if you don't."

"It's complicated."

"Did you guys have a fight or something?"

"No!" Blaine snatched up his phone and sighed, staring at the screen. "I just don't want to give him bad news. I'm waiting until things even out a bit, until there's some stability and I can tell him something good."

"You know, I bet he wants you to tell him the bad stuff," Wes nodded wisely from behind his computer. "That's what boyfriends are for."

"Kurt's heard enough bad stuff to last him a lifetime."


They went down to dinner together. Wes seemed intent on getting Blaine to eat, sleep, and talk about his feelings. But in all honesty, it was really nice to have Wes looking out for him. They sat down at one of the tables in the corner. A girl from Blaine's government passed by, her head buried in a book.

"Crap!" Blaine groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "I forgot about the test for Stephens!" He got up and made his way to the trashcan.

"Didn't he say you could take it Monday?" Wes got up as well, following cautiously as if afraid Blaine might yell at him. Blaine just shook his head.

"I should take it tomorrow. I'm already behind enough as it is."

Blaine was halfway through chapter nine when Wes kicked him out. The light from Blaine's lamp was piercingly bright and it was one freaking o'clock.

"Blaine, you know I love you, but could you please go to the library? I have a nine o'clock class." Wes flipped over so he was facing the wall. Blaine sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, sure, sorry," he said, gathering up his stuff.

This was all beginning to feel so familiar. His feet found their way through the dark hallways and to the library on their own accord, like salmon swimming back upstream. He stopped outside the doors and peaked inside. Yes—it was exactly like he remembered. There was that girl—Sarah, or Sophia—who was pre-med. She never slept. There was the grad student who spent hours poring over books on art history. He always had a cup of coffee with him. Blaine felt the dormant nerves in his stomach slowly begin to thaw and stretch. Hands made their way to familiar bookshelves, fingers flipped through page after page, eyes growing tired, body growing exhausted.

When he finally fell into bed, he didn't even have the energy to miss Kurt. He didn't have the energy to dream about lying next to him, having their skin touch under the covers. He didn't have the energy to do anything but fall asleep.


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