Monday morning started out just like so many mornings had as of late; with Trent bouncing into their dorm with a huge grin, a brown paper bag and a trio of coffee cups. There was no lie-in for either of them though, as there was a lot to get through. The Warblers would start Nationals prep that afternoon, Trent and Blaine would have another study session, and the younger boy still had plans to talk to Headmaster Montgomery before the day was out. All in all, they had a pretty hectic and filled schedule ahead of them.

"Hey D?" Trent called as Blaine was trying to get his curls to behave in the bathroom mirror.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something personal?" The younger boy's head popped out of the bathroom, a confused frown tugging at his eyebrows.

"You literally carried me to bed last night." He replied. "Just come out and ask Trent. If you overstep, I'll let you know." Wes felt as confused as Blaine, wondering where the hell Nixon was taking this conversation. The Sophomore was constantly complaining about Trent's early morning energy, but even Wes could see that this was too heavy for seven-thirty in the morning.

"Have you ever talked to Beat?"

"Your roomie?" Blaine asked, giving up on his curls and stepping out of the bathroom; throwing his towel into his laundry hamper. "Of course, I have. He's a brother."

"I mean outside of Warbler practice." Trent replied; rolling his eyes. "It's just, I get the feeling that he's worried about coming back next year to a new roommate and half of us Warblers gone. I have no doubt that they'll be in good hands when Wes hands you the gavel, but I worry about him. He's a bit like I was when we first met, and you have helped me so much over the last couple of years. I would never have had the courage to even audition, if it hadn't been for you."

"I was shitting myself and dragged you along to the audition that this narcissist insisted I take." Blaine replied with a frown, gesturing to Wes who stuck his tongue out. "And if we're talking about how much we've helped each other, then the pair of you have got me beat in that department."

"Just, why not have a chat with him?" Trent asked softly; steering the conversation back to the original topic. "I think the pair of you could be good for each other, and you have been saying that you want to step out of your comfort zone and make a few new friends."

"I share my chem class with him right before lunch." Blaine replied with a shrug. "I suppose I could have a chat." Trent positively beamed at him and shot a wink at Wes when Blaine turned away from them both to slip his blazer on. "Right now though; I think I need another coffee before I have to deal with two hours of Harvey." Both Trent and Wes winced at that. The old history teacher had discovered the art of making some of the most interesting periods of their history sound like the most boring things that had ever happened. A Harry Potter obsessed Blaine had likened him once to Binns; Hogwarts' ghostly history teacher and no one had disagreed with that assessment.

"Coffee it is then." Wes said with a decisive nod, and the three of them grabbed their bags and headed out for what promised to be a busy day for all of them.

"Mind if I join you?" Beat looked up from his essay to find a curly haired Blaine Anderson, stood by his desk, fidgeting slightly. He nodded and quickly cleared the seat next to him of his things, making space for the older boy. Trent had spoken to him that morning, before he'd headed out of the dorm, warning him of a possible approach from the lead singer, and to just be himself around the boy who had become a mystery to a good portion of the school. He knew that Trent was going to try and find him a new roommate, but when he'd mentioned Blaine that morning, Beat couldn't help but feel a little star-struck. The Sophomore was a proverbial rock-star and the pride of The Warblers. "Thanks." He said with a smile; dumping his bag and pulling out his textbooks. "I don't think I can deal with being right under Knowles's nose today."

"It's fine. You can sit here." Beat replied, cursing himself for his lack of conviction, and the crude way in which his nerves twisted his words. He cleared his throat nervously before shooting a look over at Blaine, who seemed to already be engrossed in the last portion of his own essay. Clearly the two of them had the same idea, and were doing last minute checks on their homework before the class officially started. "Do you have any idea what you're singing for Nationals?" He mentally kicked himself as a frown crossed the older boy's face.

"I'm not sure yet." Blaine replied. "I'm not even sure if I'm going to be leading."

"But you have to!" Beat burst out, surprising the pair of them. "We'll have no chance if you step down from the front. Trent's got a great voice, and Nick can keep up, but you're on a whole other level. You just have to lead Blaine." The other boy looked amused for a minute, warmth in his eyes and a smile tugging his lips.

"You can over-inflate someone's ego you know." He eventually said with an outright grin. "But I'm flattered you have faith in me, all the same. I just meant, we have so many good voices we could showcase, I was thinking of appealing the council for more medleys so that everyone gets a shot. Singing lead is great and all, and I agree that Trent can belt out a ballad against the best of them, but we work at our best when we work together, and it's time for some of the other guys to step up."

"I sometimes wish I had what you guys have."

"Are you kidding me?" Blaine asked, his eyebrows rising. "You're our most vital voice! Without you our performances would be all over the place. You're our conductor and our drum set. You're the cornerstone to what we do." Beat blushed at that; unaccustomed to the praise.

"Thanks." He said shyly, ducking his head. "That means a lot from you." Blaine blinked at that and tilted his head to one side, as if trying to work something out. He'd heard some of the seniors compare the dark-haired boy to a puppy, and Beat could see where they were coming from, the head tilt was reminiscent to an over-sized Labrador. He was saved from any more of Blaine's unusual mannerisms as Mr. Knowles entered the classroom, calling them to the front to hand in their essays before starting to outline the lesson for the day.

The mystery that was Blaine Anderson was destined to remain just that for a little longer.

"I'll see you at practise later." Blaine said as he scooped up his books and folded them away into his bag, giving him a wave as they parted for their lunch break. The lesson had been peaceful, and he'd enjoyed the younger boy's quiet company. He could see where Trent was coming from, Beat was painfully shy, which was completely contradictory when you considered his place in the Warblers.

The strawberry haired boy was exactly what his nickname suggested; their beat-box, and his place on the team was absolutely vital to their success. They'd lost their last drum-kit the previous year, when Wes's predecessor had graduated, but Trent had introduced them to Beat and they'd been so desperate that he'd been accepted without an audition. He was somewhat of an enigma to Blaine in that he wished for a gift less superior to his own. It was okay having a voice; but in an acapella group, it was the unique gifts that were the most valued, and for the first time in probably their history, they had a drum-kit, a countertenor and several songwriters on their squad simultaneously. They were in the strongest position they had ever been in, and here Beat was, wishing he could swap his talent out for the mundane.

He needed to have words with Wes.

First though, he had a meeting with the other, older Montgomery on campus, and he was determined to work something out. He knew that he'd been a lot of work for Wes and Trent to deal with over the last couple of weeks, and it couldn't continue. He couldn't backslide now, not with just a few weeks until the end of the year, and with all of their exams on the way, and Nationals prep to deal with. He needed to find a solution and quickly.

"Good morning Mr Anderson." The headmaster greeted as he opened his door to admit his student. Blaine nodded his greeting, words having dried up in his mouth and he hesitantly made his way to the chair offered by the man. "Wes told me to expect you at some point this week, but I must confess I expected it to be much later, you have quite the busy time of it today, as I understand." They settled down into the two large armchairs, that were situated by the windows and Montgomery poured them both a cup of coffee from a hot kettle on the side table.

"We have Nationals prep and I have a tutoring session with Senior Nixon this evening." Blaine replied, accepting the mug, relaxing slightly. "That is why I simply couldn't wait."

"So, what can I do for you Mr Anderson?"

"Blaine, please." Charles smiled at the young boy, who looked as though he was about to bolt, but had managed to speak up for himself to correct him. They had all learnt that it was the small victories that seemed the hardest for him, and he was immensely proud of what his son and his friends had managed to achieve.

"Of course. What can I do for you Blaine?"

"I need help." Was the blunt reply, and his eyebrows lifted high as he took in the gravity of this situation. Blaine had not once asked for his help with anything, perhaps knowing that without his parent's agreement, there was nothing the school could officially do to assist his unique situation. This was a new development, and a huge one at that.

"May I ask you to perhaps elaborate?" He asked softly and he watched as the young boy consciously and visibly reigned in his own emotions.

"Wes, Trent and the others graduate this year, and I am worried that I'm taking precious time away from their studies. Also, if I return after the summer, I am going to have no support system in place, and it has been weighing on all of our minds, Wes's especially. I know that you have had arguments with my parents in the past, about getting me help, and you and I both know that it isn't going to happen unless it consists of me taking a bunch of pills and being forced into conversion therapy. So, I'm not asking for a counsellor, or anything like that; I just might need someone to talk to off the record if things get a bit too much." The first few sentences had come out in one big rush, but Blaine trailed off towards the end, as if scared he was going to cross an invisible line. Charles wondered just how invisible the boundry actually was in the young boy's mind.

"I see." He said after taking a second to digest this information. "I am going to start by saying how grateful and proud I am, that you have trusted me enough with this Blaine. I remember a time, not to long ago when I would consider today a miracle. But you have grown so much since then, and I am fully aware of how much work has been put in to get to this moment. You are of course correct that I cannot appoint you a counsellor without your parent's permission, and that unless you have actual proof that they have plans for your summer, that my hands are tied legally." Blaine shrank in on himself at that, and seemed ready to be told that he was on his own.

"However," Charles continued, seeing those brown eyes fill with hope and feeling a sting in his chest at just how much Blaine relied on all of them. "If I were to assign you an academic assistant, there could be no complaints on their side."

"But I thought I was doing okay with school?" Blaine asked with huge eyes. "Trent's been helping me."

"Oh, you have been doing more than fine Blaine." Charles reassured with a smile. "You have nothing to worry about with your schoolwork, but if a situation were to arise that would call for you to need some help, then I would be a pretty poor Headmaster to deny you that."

"I still don't get it." The young boy replied, confusion on his face. Charles repressed a sigh as he decided to spell it out for him.

"I would like to discuss with you, about skipping a year in your studies Blaine." Eyes that he had considered huge just a few seconds ago; were now impossibly wide. "The packages that Mr Knowles and Mr Nixon have been working you through, have all been taken from the Junior curriculum, and both assure me that should you choose to do so, you would easily be able to sit the Junior exams at the end of the year, meaning that you could progress into senior year after the summer. It would be more than enough of an excuse for me to assign you an academic assistant, and if he or she just so happens to be qualified to help you with the other side of things then; I guess it's just a coincidence."

"You would do that for me?" He asked in a tiny voice.

"I would simply be allowing you to take the tests." Charles replied. "Everything else is down to you. I know that you are clever enough to pass, and I know that you will put the work in to ensure you do so, anything after that will be tackled when we get to it."

"I could be a senior?" Charles chuckled at the boy's obvious shock.

"Yes Blaine, you are more than ready to become a senior."

"I… I think I need some time to think this over sir."

"Of course, you do. Talk to your friends and with Mr Knowles, and when you are ready, we'll have another discussion." Blaine nodded and jumped up, barely remembering to stick his hand out for the Headmaster to shake, before calling out a 'Thank you!' as he practically ran from the office.

Charles Montgomery hadn't missed the slip about the summer, and was determined to see that it was a when and not an if. Blaine Anderson was a spectacularly bright mind, and he was damned if he was going to see him waste another year behind his peers in some inadequate public school.

The rest of the afternoon's lessons passed in a bit of a blur, and he was pretty sure that he'd failed the impromptu calculus test that Unwin had thrown at them. His thoughts had been spiralling since lunch, and he was desperate to get his friends to one side to talk. He was furious at Trent for not telling him that they had been working on the Junior curriculum, he was also so grateful that his chest could burst. He was terrified of letting them down, and yet he had never felt so positive in all his life. He could do this. He was going to do this. Montgomery Sr had left him a choice, come back as a Junior with whatever support he could scrape together himself, or come back as a senior, with an actual counsellor he could talk things through with.

"I take it your meeting went well." Trent said, appearing at his side with a grin as they headed towards the Warblers' commons.

"I don't know whether to kiss you or challenge you to the ring." Blaine replied dangerously. "How could you not tell me that I was working on Junior material?"

"We didn't want to get your hopes up if you struggled." Trent replied honestly with a shrug. "I know you would have been devastated if we'd done all the work for you to fail. But it's not gonna happen, because we're about three weeks away from finishing the last of the material and then I have the rest of the year to make sure its all revised and sunk in. You are doing great, and those practise essays we've been writing are going towards any marks you receive from the finals. Knowles has been watching over the whole process." Blaine stopped them in the middle of the corridor to crush the other boy into a hug. "So, you're not mad at me?" He asked hesitantly.

"Oh, I'm beyond mad." The younger boy replied, squeezing him. "But my gratitude and love for you are outweighing it right now." Trent laughed at that and they soon set off again towards practise.

For the first time all year, both boys allowed themselves to hope.