Blaine rubbed his eyes and tried to shut out the noise around him. Well, mainly the noise from his alarm clock. He added his roommate’s shouting to the list. 

Finally, he sat up with a groan and fumbled with the off button. His roommates shouts subsided, and he fell back down into the pillows.

‘Blaine. BLAINE.’ He opened one eye. It felt like the crack of dawn, even thought it could only be about 9.

Rachel was staring down at him.

‘Come on, your class starts in half an hour, get up.’

He tried to roll over, he really did, but Rachel grabbed the corner of the blanket and tugged it off him. He whined and curled in on himself.

‘Just five more minutes.’ He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to conserve heat, like he had learnt when he was a Boy Scout.

After ten minutes of attempted fight, and whimpers of ‘no, please’, Rachel finally dragged him off the bed, only for him to fall into a ball on the floor. She looked at him once more, decided he was a lost cause, and flounced off.

When the floor became his enemy and his left leg began to lose feeling, he managed to pick himself up and stagger to the bathroom, regretting going to bed at 3am.

He showered quickly, gelled his hair to within an inch of its life and pulled on the first clothes he could get his hands on, which turned out to be a creased polo and black jeans. 

Rachel managed to force some porridge into his hands, and coaxed him into eating at least 20 mouthfuls. 

Then she looked at her watch, gave a loud squeal, and hurried off, apologising profusely. 

Blaine sighed and headed to the kitchen counter, blindly searching for coffee. 

His stomach dropped and he swore his blood was turning to ice. There was no coffee. This was impossible. They always had coffee. It was a necessity, like carrots and toilet paper. But there was none to be found. 

The day had started going downhill since his alarm had gone off, and 

he concluded that it simply could not get any worse. Of course, he was wrong. 

He stepped out into the cold, and thought he was dreaming. Then he heard someone swearing in the distance. 

The air was clogged with fog. And not just a little ‘oh look at the pretty mist’ kind of fog, no, it was like someone had spilled milk into the atmosphere and they were swimming in it. 

That made him remember the coffee incident. Grumbling to himself, he somehow managed to find his car, and for once he was glad that is was neon green. 

He forgot about this momentary gladness five minutes later, when he had moved almost an inch. He checked his watch, and swore under his breath. He had ten minutes to get to class, and at this rate, he expected to be there, sometime next week, give or take. 

He even toyed with the idea of getting out and walking, but he was warm, and the damp air would no doubt ruin his beautiful hair. So he stuck it out. 

When he was in traffic for the seventh time, he pulled out his phone and texted Rachel.

 Blaine: If you don’t get more coffee today I think I might die.

 Rachel:  Having a bad day? and yes, I will.

 Blaine:  I am drowning in the air. I cannot see a millimetre in front of me. Is this what hell feels like?

Rachel: The fog, huh? Pretty impressive.

Blaine threw his phone down as the traffic started moving. 

Almost an hour later, he arrived on campus, and having missed the majority of his first class, he headed to his second, even though there were still ten minutes left.

He waited outside impatiently, regretting his life choices.

When the class began to file out, he sighed in relief, and slung his bag back over his shoulder. His eyes skimmed over the students milling around, and were caught by one boy in particular. 

He was tall, and slim looking, but it was hard to tell through the crowd. His hair was brown and looked fucking amazing. Blaine appreciated good hair. 

As if the boy knew Blaine was looking, he turned and caught his eye. Blaine blushed but resolutely held his stare. The boy raised an eyebrow and walked away.

Maybe the day wasn’t going so badly after all. 

———————

The fog stayed for the rest of the week, and Blaine ended up taking the subway with Rachel. 

The next Thursday morning, he made the decision to leave his first class earlier. It wasn’t difficult. He reckoned the professor was at least 90 and Blaine could’ve walked out singing at the top of his lungs and he wouldn’t have noticed. 

He hovered awkwardly outside the other class, and then he started to panic.

 wow what a smart idea, Blaine, he’s totally not gonna think you’re stalking him, nice one 

He mentally berated himself, even considering returning to class, when the bell sounded and he jumped out of his reverie.

Heart fluttering, he scanned the students for good hair and a perfect complexion. He counted to twenty-seven before he saw him.

The boy strolled out of the room, typing hurriedly into his phone and Blaine watched him in two minds: Half of him wanted the boy to look up, the other half hoped he’d never be seen.

Either way, his wish came true. 

Then he looked up, just for a second, to see where he was going, and looked right at him.

Blaine nearly collapsed. His legs had turned to spaghetti. His whole body felt like it was noodleifying when the boy started walking <i> in Blaine’s direction </i>. 

He held his breath. Should he introduce himself first or wait? The boy was getting closer, and with each step Blaine’s heart rate picked up, until he thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest. 

He took a deep breath, steeled himself and,

‘Hi, um, I’m-‘

‘Hey Sam!’ 

The boy walked right past him.

Right

Past 

Him 

 Feeling numb, Blaine turned his head slowly, and saw him high fiving a blond boy with a huge mouth. 

Okay, Blaine was making plans that involved himself, a car, and a large cliff. 

Only just resisting hitting his head repeatedly against a wall, he shuffled to class, his heart crushed, his head spinning.