Chapter Seven: Molting

Blaine ran, but everywhere he went there was someone waiting for him. Some had baseball bats, some had knives, some had fists, and one even had pre-natal vitamins. Finally, he reached a door at the end of the hall. He slammed it shut, breathing in relief at the sound of the lock clicking into place. He leaned against it, desperate for a chance to rest, to catch his breath.

"I told you not to return to this house, young lady."

"Dad?"

"Get out of my house, you abomination. You disgusting little-"

Blaine's eyes shot open. He was getting tired of the nightmares. He was exhausted and not remotely ready for his date with Justin. He rolled onto his side and suddenly realized his pants were wet.

At first he thought he'd wet the bed during his dream, but then he realized it was far worse. Immediately, he grabbed some clean pants and tore his sheets from the bed as quietly as possible. He couldn't wake his roommates. He all but ran to the bathroom, shoving the soiled pants into a plastic bag.

Blaine turned on the shower, disrobing to bathe and trying to wash the red from his sheets. It wasn't until the third application of soap that the sheet was white again and he realized he was crying softly. This wasn't supposed to happen. The testosterone should have stopped this happening.

He took a few deep breaths as he grabbed his pajama bottoms and started to wash them. Maybe it just needed an extra month to stop his... penguin.

He was still awake early enough that even when he finished his extra long shower, his roommates were still slumbering. He threw the dirty sheets into the laundry and grabbed fresh from the wardrobe. Using his duffle bag and a textbook (waterproofed in another plastic bag), Blaine created a drying rack under his bed for the wet pajama bottoms.

He was just tying on his shoes when Chuck began to stir. "Where are you off to so early?" Chuck mumbled.

"Breakfast off campus," Blaine replied and slung his bag over his shoulder. "See you for basketball later."

Blaine rushed out before Chuck could ask any more questions. Sure, they couldn't bully him, but what if it made them uncomfortable to room with a gay guy? The mere thought of making others uncomfortable made him uncomfortable.

"Hey, Blaine?"

Blaine turned back to see Chuck standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"

Please, please don't let him ask if it's a date or who I'm going with...

"Is something wrong with your bird? I was looking at it last night, and..."

Blaine was already rushing back into the room.

He was late to breakfast. "I'm sorry I'm late," he rushed. "Something's wrong with Bocelli. He's not singing, and his feathers are all falling out. I think he's dying."

"Oh, my god." Justin was on his feet. He handed Blaine a coffee and a muffin. "Are you okay with eating on the bus back?"

Blaine nodded. When they got back to campus, the other boys were awake and Chuck had already gone. Bocelli wasn't moving. They whistled at him, but he only managed a weak tweet in return. "What do we do?" Justin asked.

"I don't know. I've never had a bird before."

"This is horrible," Justin lamented. "We've had this bird for four days, and we've already killed him."

"He doesn't look so good," Jason added helpfully.

"Thanks."

"Any time." Jason nodded and ducked out of the room, leaving them to their terrible fate.

"What do you think they'll do to us if he dies?" Justin wondered aloud.

All kinds of nightmare scenarios went through Blaine's head. They all involved being made to do humiliating things that required shirtlessness or pants removal. "I don't know. I've done everything right, I swear. I feed him every day and change his water before bed and I just changed his newspaper yesterday-"

"Calm down," Justin stopped him. "We'll show him to the senior Warblers. They'll know what's wrong with him."

"Okay." Blaine tried to breathe. "How is it already almost time for class?"

Justin glanced at his watch. "I'll meet you after. I know where Wes and David's room is. We'll bring him there."

Blaine nodded. He had to focus. This was his last day of study hall. Each day they'd sent him to study hall with a different subject to catch up on. That way he could go to regular classes with the other boys next week without being completely lost. He had only missed about a month of class since Dalton started classes the last week of January.

Luckily he'd been in advanced math the previous year, so the fact that he couldn't focus didn't mess him up too badly. Justin was waiting outside the room, and Blaine let him in. They grabbed Bocelli and climbed the stairs to the upperclassmen dormitories.

David answered the door. "Hi, guys. What's up?"

"Bocelli's really sick," Blaine said.

"We think he's dying," Justin added.

"Hey, Wes," David called, and Wes came to the door. "These two are quite certain their bird is dying."

"Dying?" Wes repeated. "That would definitely be bad."

Suddenly, they both started laughing hysterically.

"This isn't funny," Justin reminded them.

"He's just molting," David laughed, wiping tears away. "Give him a few days. He'll be fine."

"I can't believe you thought he was dying," Wes agreed.

Blaine felt his face catch fire. Great. They'd made fools of themselves and now the senior Warblers thought they were idiots.

He couldn't even look at Bocelli when he changed the bird's water that night.