Blaine was surprised to find his father home when he arrived back from school.
"Good," Mr Anderson said, "you decided to take up our deal."
"Of course I did," Blaine responded, trying to fill his words with as much venom as he could. "It was the Warblers or my life; I think it's fairly obvious which one I'm going to sacrifice."
Mr Anderson snorted derisively and handed Blaine a stack of paper. "These are mock exams," he said simply. "I want you to do them all tonight."
Blaine tried not to show any weakness. "Fine," he shrugged, weighing the papers experimentally in his hands.
To Blaine's surprise, a five dollar note landed on top of the pile. He looked at his father and frowned.
"You can go to a coffee shop and buy yourself something," he said. "So long as you get them done."
Blaine nodded at the compromise. "Alright," he muttered, not wanting to say "thank you".
An hour later, Blaine was positioned on a sofa in the Lima Bean, a medium drip perched precariously on the pile of incomplete papers spread out across the coffee table. He was bored out of his skull, but determined to finish. He was good at maths. He understood maths. There was no reason that he couldn't ace his next few tests and be back in the Warblers in no time.
He finished question seventeen and set his pen down, searching the coffee shop for something interesting to look at. His eyes eventually settled on a guy with blond hair who was sat at a table a little way down with a frappuccino and the third Harry Potter book. He seemed absorbed in the story, his drink halfway between the table and his mouth, his hand hovering. He laughed – out loud – and then looked around quickly to see whether he'd disturbed anyone. His eyes met Blaine's, and he gave a small smile. Rather than look down and continue with his work, Blaine found himself smiling back. The guy raised his eyebrows as if to say, "well?" and Blaine opened his mouth, shut it, and, feeling flustered, busied himself with his papers. After a minute or so of pointless fumbling, Blaine glanced up to see the guy had gone back to his book. Blaine sighed and reopened his maths paper, getting on with the next question.
A few minutes later, he felt the side of the sofa sink, and looked up to see the blond guy settling into the seat, flashing a smile at Blaine. "Hi," he said.
"Hello," Blaine stammered in surprise.
The guy laughed again. "I'm Jeremiah," he began, extending a hand. "Potter fan?" he asked knowingly.
Blaine felt himself blush and nodded, taking Jeremiah's hand. "Blaine."
Jeremiah nodded down at Blaine's maths paper. "Trigonometry, huh?"
"Oh, yeah," Blaine nodded distractedly. What was wrong with him? He'd been acting like a complete idiot since he'd first set eyes on Jeremiah.
Jeremiah pulled a face. "Ouch. It took me ages to understand it." He shook his head. "Thank god I'm not at school anymore."
"You're not?" Blaine asked. Stupidly. He was wearing a name badge, of course he didn't go to school.
"No, I work down at the Gap," he said, gesturing out the door of the Lima Bean. Blaine nodded. "I get a fifty per cent staff discount, too," he said, and winked.
Why did that wink send shivers down Blaine's spine? And the butterflies in his stomach were hardly coincidental. He couldn't place this feeling. He felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach. Jeremiah was looking at him. Crap, he'd missed something! "Sorry?" he asked, trying to sound somewhere in the realms of normal.
"I said, where do you go to school?" Jeremiah laughed, pointing at Blaine's blazer. "D...?"
"Oh," Blaine nodded, glancing obediently down at the crest on the breast pocket of his blazer. "Dalton! Dalton Academy," he answered finally. "In Westerville," he elaborated, when Jeremiah still looked blank.
"Right," Jeremiah nodded, and paused. "Do they have a glee club?"
Ouch, fresh wound. But Blaine nodded again and said, "yes. The Warblers."
"That's it!" Jeremiah beamed, and Blaine felt the butterflies again. "I think we competed against them one year at Sectionals, when I was a senior!"
"You were in glee club?"
"Yeah! We lost pretty badly to your lot, though." Jeremiah laughed yet again, and took a sip of his drink. He paused, his eyes flicking down to Blaine's work again. "Do you want any help with this?"
Blaine looked down, then back up, then down again. What was it about Jeremiah that made him so twitchy? "Yes," he said, slightly too enthusiastically. "Please."
Jeremiah smiled and leant over Blaine's work, reading the question. "Okay, this is alright. I'll talk you through it."
An hour and a half later, they closed the third-to-last paper and picked up the next one.
"So how come you've suddenly started doing exams by the wheelbarrow-load?" Jeremiah asked casually.
Blaine groaned. "Long story. My dad's the real issue, it's kinda – complicated."
Jeremiah shrugged. "Your grades slip and he threatened to make you quite the Warblers?"
Blaine shot bolt upright like he'd been electrocuted. "How did you know that?"
"My dad was the same. Plus, your badge says you're in the Warblers," Jeremiah said, pointing.
Blaine glanced down at the little cartoon canary on his lapel. "Oh," he said dumbly. "Well, yeah." He paused, and took a breath. "I don't think it helps that I'm gay either."
"Woah, it's like my life story!" Jeremiah exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "Bigoted father forces you to stop your favourite extra-curriculars until you do well enough in your exams, fuelled by homophobic rage..." He shook his head. "Crazy. Well, Blaine..." He checked his watch, and mage to go. "...I've got to scoot, but this was fun. I'm in here from about five-thirty if you want to do it again sometime. In the meantime, though..." Jeremiah looked sympathetically at Blaine, and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Good luck with your dad. I hope everything works out."
Blaine nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Jeremiah. For the exam help too."
"Don't mention it." Jeremiah grinned, grabbing his empty cup and standing. "See you around, Blaine Warbler."
"Bye," Blaine said quietly.
So, he thought, once Jeremiah had gone. That's what it feels like to have your breath taken away.