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Getting Mike out of the room required absolutely no effort on Blaine's part. He had been stressing over it for the past few hours but he had forgotten a tiny little fact—Mike was a dance major. Therefore, he would naturally go to the practice rooms to practice.

"Meet you somewhere for dinner?" Mike said as he prepared to leave. Blaine nodded absently.

"Have fun," he said. Mike made a face. Practice was anything but fun. Dance was hard work but he wouldn't complain too much. He loved to dance and it was better than doing something he hated. He would have to text Tina again and thank her for telling his dad about his dreams.

"See you later," Mike called as he pulled out his phone.

Blaine waited a few minutes after the door shut to make sure that Mike wouldn't come back for something he had forgotten before pulling out his own phone and dialing Wes's number.

"Hey Blaine," Wes answered.

"Hey," Blaine replied. "Are you alone?"

"For once," Wes said. "My roommate's out with his girlfriend. What's up?"

Blaine sighed.

"I don't know what happened," he said. "Things are getting out of control and I don't know how to stop it and everything's going to blow up in my face and then no one will want to be around me and—"

"Breathe," Wes cut off the ranting teenager. "Start from the beginning."

Blaine took a deep breath and tried to think of where to begin. It was easy enough to say the beginning but Blaine wasn't sure where the beginning was in this case. Was it when he first met Thomas at orientation or when he first met Kurt? After a few seconds, Blaine decided to tell Wes everything from the moment he met Kurt.

"The first day I moved in, I met a guy," he said.

"A guy?" Wes asked, interest peaking.

"Yeah," Blaine replied. "He told me he was from Lima and I meant to tell him I was from Westerville but as soon as my mouth opened, I said I was from Chicago."

"Why would you do that?" Wes asked. "There's nothing wrong with Westerville."

"I don't know why," Blaine said in frustration. "It just happened. When he asked about my Ohioan accent, I kept going and said that I originally lived in Ohio but moved to Chicago for high school. I don't know why it happened."

Wes sighed but figured that there was more to the story.

"What happened next?" he asked.

"He has a boyfriend," Blaine said.

"So?" Wes was wondering where this was going.

"His boyfriend is Sebastian," Blaine explained further. There were a few seconds of silence as Wes tried to comprehend.

"Sebastian as in Sebastian from Dalton?" Wes asked. "Our Sebastian?"

Blaine grimaced at Wes's phrasing but sighed.

"That Sebastian," he confirmed.

"What happened when you two ran into each other?"

"Kurt told him I was from Chicago before we could say anything to each other."

"Is Kurt the boy?" Wes asked.

"Yeah," Blaine replied.

"And?" Wes prodded. Blaine sighed again.

"Kurt left us alone to go look for someone and Sebastian basically threatened to use the information as blackmail."

"Sounds like him," Wes muttered. "Is that all or is there more?"

"That's all," Blaine decided, no more information to tell Wes coming to mind. "I want to come clean but it's too late. What should I do?"

Wes was silent for a few minutes as he tried to think of solutions.

"I honestly don't know," he admitted. "You could tell everyone the truth and hope for the best."

"Or?" Blaine asked, hoping there was a different solution.

"Or you could try and distance yourself from the situation. Stop hanging out with Kurt and maybe Sebastian will leave you alone?" Wes suggested, though he sounded like he didn't believe the solution would work. "Or you could just do nothing."

"There's nothing else I can do?" Blaine asked desperately.

"I don't know," Wes repeated. "I've never been in a situation like this before. Trust you to get into a situation this fucked up. Can't leave you alone for a day."

Blaine knew Wes was trying to tease him but his stomach still twisted uncomfortably. He didn't say anything.

"So how are your classes?" Wes asked, changing the subject.

"Miserable," Blaine admitted. "Especially economics and calculus."

"You're going for business, right?" Wes asked.

"That's what my parents want," Blaine said dully.

"But not what you want," Wes realized. "Blaine—"

"Please don't start," Blaine interrupted before Wes could go on one of his rants. "I know I should do what I want but I don't know what I want."

"Are you liking your other classes?" Wes asked.

"Not really," Blaine responded, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, they're not as bad as economics or calculus but…" he trailed off.

"You don't see yourself as making a living with a degree in those subjects," Wes finished.

"Exactly," Blaine agreed. "How are your classes going?"

"Large, but it's Madison," Wes said. "I love State Street. You should come up sometime so I can show you all the fun places to hang out."

"Are the parties as crazy as they say?" Blaine asked. Wes laughed.

"They have the police block off State Street for Halloween," he said.

"I'll take that as a yes then," Blaine said, a grin creeping up on his face.

For the next hour or so, Blaine and Wes just chatted about whatever came to mind. Blaine felt the tension in his body slipping away. Pretty soon he had forgotten all about his problems.

Blaine jumped as he heard the doorknob turning. He eyed Mike curiously as his roommate entered the room.

"I gotta go," he told Wes. "Talk to you later."

"Start enjoying life!" Wes shouted through the phone as Blaine hung up. Mike grinned.

"I was wondering why you didn't answer my text. I figured you were sleeping," Mike said. Blaine glanced at his phone. Sure enough there were a few unread texts. One from Mike, one from Kurt and one from Gabriel.

"Sorry," Blaine apologized. "Did you want to go eat?"

"Just let me take some ibuprofen," Mike said. "My head's killing me."

"There's some in my desk if you can't find yours," Blaine said, knowing that Mike had probably lost his again. The boy was great when it came to keeping classwork organized but was hopeless when it came to finding anything in the room. Mike immediately went for Blaine's desk.

Mike pulled open the desk drawer and grabbed the small bottle of ibuprofen. His hand jostled another box of medicine and Mike's eyes narrowed when he noticed that it read Lactaid. Wasn't that to help for people with lactose allergies? That would explain why Blaine kept getting sick. The curly-haired teen was practically addicted to ice cream. But why wouldn't he take medicine that would help prevent him from getting sick?

Mike pulled out the bottle of painkillers and shut the drawer. Chances were that Blaine had just forgotten it was there. The dance major pushed it out of his mind.

"Ready to go?" he asked Blaine once he had swallowed a few of the small, red pills.

"Just let me reply to this," Blaine said, grabbing his jacket and texting at the same time.

"Kurt?" Mike asked hopefully. Blaine shook his head.

"Gabriel," he said. "Wants to study for Chemistry."

"You two study together a lot," Mike said. Blaine looked up from his phone and stared at Mike blankly.

"So?" he asked.

"Are you sure that just studying is going on?" Mike asked. Blaine continued to stare at Mike blankly. Then it hit him.

"Oh! No! No, that's not happening," Blaine practically yelped. "It's just studying."

Mike shrugged his shoulders, as if he wasn't sure he believed Blaine.

"Okay," he said. Blaine's face colored.

"How did you even know I was—?" he asked.

"I've seen how you look at Kurt," Mike replied. "I wasn't sure until just now, though. It was just a guess.

Blaine's face reddened even further.

"Nothing's happening," he replied. "Let's go get something to eat."

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