Awkward doesn't even begin to describe it.

Blaine punches and kicks, ducks and jumps more than he talks these days. He's been working on his mindset too, concentrating on the one twos that life throws at him.

He'll be ready now. He has to be.

He didn't ask for what happened to him, no one would, but every instance in which he rips off that mask and another one comes to take its place he can't help but wonder why. The more he filters through his issues, the softer his edges become, and he's changing, but it's indescribable.

He just is whereas before he wasn't. Perhaps it's the confidence that's crafted from his new ambition. Maybe it's simpler than that. Maybe he just needed time.

Blaine asks himself who he really is. Who is this Blaine Anderson both him and Sebastian keep trying- and failing- to see? He'll catch glimpses every so often. Sometimes when he throws a particularly sobering jab. He ducks under an imaginary advance, one two step one hit two jab.

Sebastian's been awfully quiet lately, although he hasn't been exactly, distant, either. This quiet battle between them is wearing Blaine out. He keeps mulling over what he should have done differently, had he avoided that kiss, and what would have happened if? Except, that's the mindset that brought him here in the first place.

Isn't he trying to get over that way of thinking?

He knows that words were never Sebastian's strong suit, and that the taller is probably just as confused about what happened as Blaine is. However, now that Blaine thinks of it, words aren't really his forte either. He's just going to wait it out.

He twists his abdomen, expelling all of his breath before leaning into a right hook, and tries to forget.

PUNCH.

The sweat jumps of his body, stampeding to the ground and sticking to the fabric of his gray sweatshirt that's clinging to his back. The hug it creates against his body is unexpectedly comforting, a band-aid of sorts, and he imagines how it'd feel to be touched again.

Really touched. Not like Puck's sideswipes or Sebastian's awkward shoulder pats. Blaine wants to be held, to be kissed… Earlier, his need to be like before- untouched- was something he wanted, but now he feels like he's ostracized himself, and he craves the press of fingertips to flesh more than anything else in the world. Nothing, extreme, Blaine just wants to hold a hand or snuggle into another's embrace. Where did all this 'want' come from?

He pretends to have no memory of an attempt with Sebastian's mouth.

Back in the room, his roommate is in a heated text message battle. There's a French book resting on his lap, and he's sitting half upright against the wall. His hair's skewed in all sorts of relative angles, and he's viciously expressive as he types.

Sebastian's fingers are snapping and pressing into the plastic of his phone in such a rapid manner that it might melt. Blaine's surprised to see him occupied so fiercely, so he watches for a little before going about his own business.

They haven't been speaking, but Blaine can tell Sebastian's angry by the way color floods into his neck and ears. He wants to say hello, be cordial, and ask 'how was your day?' He wants to ask what's wrong, with whom are you fighting, but the air is so stagnant between them he's afraid he'll choke on any attempt with speech.

It's silly, whatever the two of them are avoiding, but Blaine's used to keeping his mouth shut so he says nothing, opinion internal, encouraging their distance to grow with each passing day.

It's strange seeing Sebastian like this. He's usually put together, confident, and well dressed but ever since their disagreement he's been the exact opposite: tired, silent, and messy.

Blaine remembers a time when he'd guessed that old habits die hard, but he never thought it would look like this. Sebastian hasn't left the room unless necessary since their whatever it was, and Blaine's starting to wonder if there's a reason.

There have been no sleepovers, no innuendos, and no words.

It's just been Sebastian and Blaine, and silence.

Blaine's sticky and sweaty from the gym so he doesn't think twice before facing the wall and stripping his shirt off. The clicking from Sebastian's phone stops. He doesn't see the flicker from across the room brighten and darken all at once because he's searching under his bed for his shower caddy.

He's somewhere between kneeling and standing, caddy in hand, when their door starts rattling on its hinges. Loud knocks play one after another, testing the wood's acoustics.

"Sebastian I know you're in there! Open the fucking door, you asshole!"

It's Dane.

Which brings Blaine back to his initial thought:

Awkward doesn't even begin to describe it.

He's torn between opening the door so that the noise will cease, and turning to Sebastian for a resolution. He glances across the room where the other is casually reading his French book- a disguise Blaine knows as a monotonous distraction- and decides to open the door.

His hand just greets the doorknob when the air surrounding his body rivets and a voice comes through.

"Leave it."

Sebastian doesn't even bother to look up when he comments, and Blaine almost doesn't believe it's him that's spoken at first. Are they talking now?

"Isn't that Dane?" He says innocently. "Are you two fighting or something?"

"Sebastian! Open. This. Door! You can't just text me that shit and expect me to be a-fucking-okay!" There's a pause. Blaine thinks that the boy has given up until a fist slams hard against the frame. Dane says ferociously loud, "Open it or I'll tell everyone you let me top!"

Blaine tries to redirect the heat in his cheeks, ignoring the images flooding his mind. Sebastian mutters to himself slightly embarrassed, more so to Dane, although he can't hear it, "You can do better than that."

He continues 'reading' his textbook.

For a fraction of a second it's just Sebastian and Blaine again. Old friends who're ready to play catch up after a long period of silence. The sarcasm feels like home, something Blaine didn't know he's missed, and then he remembers where he is and what's going on.

He feels like he's caught in the middle of a raid, a war between himself and a giant machine. The door is so loud he thinks it might break from the discord.

What if he opens it and tells Dane that Sebastian isn't home? He shuffles to the room's entrance but second-guesses himself, unsure of what to do. He looks over at Sebastian again for encouragement.

"I said leave it."

The brunette still doesn't look up.

Blaine doesn't want their conversation to end-if that's even what it is- but he doesn't know what else to do. All these words left unsaid will be invisible to deaf ears, so why try?

What it comes down to is that not everything is in his control. It's an idea he could indisputably apply to other areas of his life, but he'll save that for tomorrow's practice.

He replies, "O-okay?"

It takes ten minutes for the knocking to stop, fifteen for the threats to fade. Blaine finishes his shower and dresses during that time, hyper aware of his mute roommate glancing towards his side of the room.

He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it.

The third time Sebastian looks over, Blaine winks- a memento from their first week together at Dalton- and he earns a shy effort at upturned lips.

Blaine doesn't push for conversation. His head's swimming in it already, and as he goes to his desk to study- stealing Sebastian's French book along the way- he knows things will sort themselves out.

He just needs time.