"Sam!" Trent greeted, seeing the familiar blonde enter Dalton's doors. He had decided to wait for Sam down there. After all, the New Directions never had learned where Blaine's dorm was. Behind Sam, Kurt entered, looking around both worried and nervous.
"Oh! Kurt!" Trent said. "It's nice to see you again." Trent was surprised that Kurt was here, but honestly, he shouldn't have been.
It was obvious that both boys still felt something for each other. Maybe Kurt had finally talked it out with Blaine. Trent knew that Blaine still missed Kurt – he was just too stubborn to admit it.
"Trent?" Kurt said. "How's Blaine doing?"
"He hasn't woken up yet. We aren't in his dorm because it seemed a little creepy to be standing over him as he slept, and he looked like he needed to sleep for a while."
"No one's with him! What about his roommate?" Kurt demanded.
"We figured that Sebastian was the last person Blaine would want to see when he woke up, so…" Trent trailed off, seeing Kurt's face grow red with anger.
"Sebastian! He's rooming with Sebastian, of all people?" Trent sighed. He knew that Kurt was justifiably angry – after all, Sebastian had almost really hurt Blaine, but now was not the time for it.
"You can't pick your roommate, Kurt," Trent said. "Do you want to go up or not?"
"Of course I do," Kurt said quickly, his fury replaced with concern. Trent was shocked by the quick transformation. Of course, Kurt had probably become angry so quickly because he was so nervous.
Trent led both the boys upstairs. As he was leading them, silent, as Trent knew that both boys would want to just think for a bit, Jeff ran up to him.
"Trent! Thank God I found you! Something's wrong with Blaine!" In his haste, he didn't even notice Kurt and Sam.
"What happened? Is he okay?" Trent immediately demanded.
"I don't know!" Jeff said, gasping as if he'd been sprinting around Dalton. If something was up with Blaine, then he probably had been. "You locked the door and kept Sebastian's key. We can't get in!" Trent gasped.
Why had keeping the other boys from bothering Blaine seemed like such a good idea?
"Jeff, get the nurse. Tell her everything. We'll go up and see what's wrong."
"We?" Jeff echoed. For the first time, he seemed to notice Kurt and Sam. "Oh! Hi, Kurt! Hi… kid from McKinley whose name I should know because you're one of Blaine's friends! Bye!" And suddenly, Jeff was hurtling down the stairs towards the nurse.
"I swear that boy keeps getting crazier," Trent muttered. "Come on, let's go!"
Trent was sure that Jeff was overreacting. He'd been known to do that, so sending Jeff to the nurse was more of a way to calm him down than anything else. Trent didn't know what Jeff could possibly have heard that made it seem as if Blaine wasn't okay.
What happened to Blaine was purely mental after all. Trent could recognize a panic attack. He'd seen them before, and, from what he heard, that's what Blaine looked like.
Trent was a little angry that no one had caught Blaine when he collapsed, but everyone had been a bit shocked, so he couldn't blame them.
At the very most, Jeff could have heard Blaine crying. Actually, that was pretty likely. Blaine had made a bad decision, and he knew it.
As much as Trent wanted to think that Blaine would be okay with what had happened, he knew that that wouldn't be the case.
Trent saw that Kurt was looking extremely worried, so he began walking a bit faster. For one, it would put Kurt's mind at rest.
It would also help Blaine to have his friends there if he was upset.
Trent reached Blaine's door and unlocked it quickly. Kurt nearly shoved him out of the way as he threw himself over the threshold.
"Blaine!" he heard Kurt gasp. Trent became aware of a buzzing sound. Concerned, he looked at the bed. Blaine wasn't in it.
He stepped inside, following Sam.
As soon as he saw Blaine, he realized that the buzzing sound was coming from him. He was wheezing.
Blaine was on his hands and knees with Kurt crouching next to him, looking terrified and unsure. Trent saw that Blaine was halfway between the door and his bed. It almost looked as if he'd been trying to get out of the room before he collapsed.
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Blaine didn't know what had happened. Suddenly, he was awake, coughing desperately. It was terrible; he could feel the wind rushing through his constricted throat. He tried to suck a breath in, and to his horror, found that the air wasn't cooperating.
Blaine had to be breathing, right? After all, he was coughing. That was a good sign?
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing as he felt a small – too small – amount of air enter his lungs.
What the hell was wrong? He remembered being with the Warblers…
Oh God. The steroids.
Immediately, despite what was happening, he felt his eyes tear up and his breathing become even more desperate.
No! Calm down, he chanted in his mind. He needed to figure out what was going on. Why wasn't the air working?
"Blaine!" someone yelled. Blaine looked over at the doorway, wondering why it seemed hazy. In fact, it almost seemed to be rippling under his gaze.
Shit. That was the problem. What – what had he learned? If you could see air, then it was poisonous.
He was in a room full of poisonous gas.
He had to get out.
Blaine tried to answer, but a long wheeze and a coughing fit erupted from his chest. He placed his hand on his shaking chest, over the blanket.
Feeling as if it was suffocating him, he moved his hands desperately, trying to brush it off. It was stopping the air. He had to breathe. Finally, he managed to tear it off of him, but he couldn't breathe any easier.
"Blaine!" the same voice yelled again. He saw the door handle rattle. "Can you unlock the door for me!" Blaine swung his legs over the side and let out a weak cough.
At least he wasn't coughing as badly. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was so dry. There was a constant wheeze emerging from his mouth, and he couldn't seem to get it to stop.
He stood, and the world twisted around him. Trying to ignore it, he stumbled forward and fell to his knees.
"Blaine!" the voice cried again. The door rattled again, but Blaine only heard it. Everything was hazy, and the colours were off. At least it had stopped spinning.
He placed his hand on his chest, trying to rise to his feet. There wasn't any air. He couldn't breathe.
Suddenly, the door seemed like it was trapping him in the room. And the room had no air. He had to get there.
Blaine had to open the door. He tried to rise to his feet, using the bedpost for support. The door seemed so far away.
Blaine had never realized the dorm was so big. In fact, he could remember complaining about the size. There was something pressing on his chest as he took a small step. He faltered as everything twisted. Closing his eyes, he tried to take a deep breath, but breathing in like that only made him start coughing again.
There was a fuzzy feeling that was settling in his head. It was a small buzzing. He tried to shake his head, but as soon as he moved it, the room twisted again. What was happening?
He tried to step forward, propelling himself towards the door. Blaine swallowed, managing to get a lump of saliva down his throat. It burned his swollen throat and didn't make it easier to breath.
He couldn't breathe.
What was happening?
Stumbling a few more steps, he realized that the wheeze was growing quieter. But he still couldn't breathe, and the ache in his chest wasn't leaving.
In fact, Blaine was pretty sure that there was less air. The room was still trapping him with the bad air. What else could it be? The sir wasn't working. There wasn't enough of it.
He fell again, halfway between the door and the bed. He tried to pull himself off the ground, getting to his knees when the door was flung open.
"Blaine!" It was a different voice this time. He was sure he knew this voice, but he couldn't place it – he could hardly hear it over the buzzing in his ears.
The voice's owner raced over, dropping to the ground next to him. Blaine tried – he really did! – to warn him about the bad air.
But he couldn't. Instead, he reached a shaky hand up towards the blurry shape. The shape was breathing loudly and quickly – Blaine could hear it.
He was using even more of the good air! They couldn't afford that. They were trapped.
The air was running out. Pain was exploding through his chest.
No.
Please, he begged silently, tears dripping down his cheeks.
Please. Stop using the air. He needed it. So badly.
And he couldn't get it.
It wasn't working.
Nothing was working.
His hand fell to the ground again, not having the strength to see the blurry face.
The wheeze grew even quieter.
No.
The pain grew worse.
The light grew dimmer.
And then everything was gone.
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Hey, guys! Welcome to your regularly-scheduled Saturday update! Enjoy and tell me your thoughts!
I have a confession. This chapter's been done since Monday, but I didn't like it, so I waited until I spend a long time reading over it and changed like three lines.
I'm still not completely happy with it.
Please review!
Thanks to all my old reviewers!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee!
