Blaine expects to wake up at eight the next morning to the generic ringing of the alarm he had set on his cellphone. Instead, he wakes up at two in the afternoon to the booming voice of his father as he shouts his son’s name form the doorway to his bedroom.

“Blaine!”

Blaine forces his eyes open and closes them at the harsh sunlight coming in from his open window. He rolls onto his back and opens his eyes once more, rubbing at them with the heels of his hands. “Mmffghhh”

“Do you, or do you not, realize what time it is?” His father inquires. When Blaine chances a look in his direction, he wishes he hadn’t. His father’s face is stern, serious. He obviously isn’t in the mood for jokes (not that he ever is). Blaine is also quick to realize that there is no safe answer to this question. If he says he does know the time his father will call him out on sleeping in past ten when he could have been using that time to study or perfect his research paper. If he says he didn’t realize the time (which would be the truth) his father will say he is being irresponsible. There was no winning this argument.

Forcing himself to sit up, Blaine tosses his legs over the edge of the bed and sighs as he combs his fingers through his unruly curls. “I uh… I’m sorry, dad. I was up late last night. I must have forgotten to set my alarm.”

A sarcastic smile makes its way onto his father’s face. “’Forgot to set your alarm…’” He doesn’t have to say much other than that to get his point across. The hard lines of his face and the harsh glare he sends in Blaine’s direction says more than words ever could.

Blaine doesn’t respond because there isn’t much he can say to his father. Not anything that would make him happy, at least.

Mr. Anderson sighs, crossing his arms. “What were you doing staying up so late anyways, Blaine?” His voice is a little softer now. It’s still firm, but it manages to calm Blaine’s nerves a little bit which is something he’s grateful for.

“I have a research paper due tomorrow. I stayed up so I could work on it.”

“Oh.” His father seems surprised at his son’s assumed dedication as a small smile finds its way to his lips. Little did he know Blaine didn’t manage to get much more than his name typed onto the near empty word document. “Good. I’m glad to see you’re showing some form of responsibility for your studies. How far along are you? You must be in the editing phase by now, at least.”

Blaine’s face freezes. He rubs at the back of his neck as a shaky laugh spills past his lips. “Uh… actually, I’m – I’m having a little trouble getting the words out.” He chances a glance at his father’s hardening features. The smile Blaine had earned only seconds earlier is now long gone.

“I have it all planned out in my head,” he rushes, defending himself. “I just have to figure out how to put it into words. Make it sound more… more eloquent, if you will.” 

Mr. Anderson is surely seeing red now, his son just knows it.

 “I’m going to be Frank with you, Blaine.” he begins, his tone steady.  “I’m not happy with the direction you’ve chosen to take. I pull every string possible, help you get admission to Harvard, and you turn that down to pursue music at Chapman University. You were prepped for law, Blaine. That was always the plan for you and you are throwing all of that away to sing and dance. Not to mention the… lifestyle…. Choices you have decided to make as well.”

Blaine has never wanted anything more than to impress his parents, primarily his father, and to make them proud. He neared straight As all through school earning nothing less than a B+ in any of his classes. He did extracurricular activities. While he wasn’t a great football player, which was a great disappointment to his father who had played quarterback during his time in high school, Blaine excelled in track and field. He joined his schools a cappella group and sang nearly every solo up until graduation. His teachers adored him and he was loved by his peers.

However, that did not seem to impress Blaine’s father.

When Blaine finished high school with a 3.89 GPA, Mr. Anderson seemed happy enough. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t yell either. However, Blaine knew his dad would have been happier with a 4.0. When Blaine beat his high school’s record for the hundred meter dash his father didn’t have to tell him that while he was undoubtedly good at track, he could have worked harder to make the football team. And when he scored the solo in the next Warbler performance? Well, let’s be honest. Mr. Anderson didn’t really need to tell Blaine how he felt about that. Real men don’t join show choir.

It didn’t matter what Blaine did. He was never good enough.  He always could have done more or he could have done better.

 “I want that paper finished by dinner, Blaine,” his father finishes. “I don’t think I need to tell you how disappointed I am that you seem to care so little about your studies.”

Blaine doesn’t say a word as his father exits his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t allow himself to cry even though he wants to. He knows his father could return at any moment and if he sees tears running down his son’s cheeks would only be even more displeased than he already was. No, Blaine doesn’t shed a tear. He simply pushes himself off of his bed, crosses the room, and sits down in front of the computer.

He opens the near-empty word document he’d saved the night before, and he begins to write.

On Monday, after he finishes all of his classes, Blaine finds himself sprawled out across his bed feeling completely and totally exhausted. He isn’t sure why he’s so tired. He didn’t do anything requiring a massive amount of energy and, despite the time crunch, he was able to finish that paper by the time his mother had finished dinner. He went to bed at a decent hour and woke up a little over nine hours later.

Blaine had no reason to be tired, but he was. All he really wanted to do was sleep. He wanted to close his eyes and fall into a coma. Maybe wake up when his life finally took a turn for the better.

No, he thought. My life is fine. The things that are wrong with it, I can fix those. I just need to try a little harder is all. I’m just not trying hard enough.

Blaine pushed himself up off his bed and decided to get some studying done. He had an exam the next week and he wanted to do well. He wanted to be able to earn that A and show his father that he really could do it. He wanted to prove to himself that even though he didn’t wind up at Harvard, he could still make his father proud.

Blaine was just about to go over a few of the lecture slides his professor had posted online when he received a text from Paul.

From: Paul

6:37 pm

U busy tonight?

Blaine sighed his eyes shifting from his phone to his computer screen. He typed back a quick response and tossed his phone back onto his desk.

From: Blaine

6:40 pm

I’m studying. Why?

Blaine was shocked when his phone vibrated less than two minutes later. Paul never responded this quickly.

From: Paul

6: 41 pm.

Marla is going to be over in a few minutes. I thought you might wanna come over.

Blaine raised his brows at the text. Sure, Marla was alright for the most part, but it wasn’t like Blaine was going to ditch the books just to hang out with her.

From: Blaine

6:43 pm.

Why would Marla being over make me want to hang out?

From: Paul

6:44 pm

Because. Marla is coming over… and she’s bringing Kurt.

Blaine froze when he saw Paul’s response. He wanted to jump out of his chair and race to Paul’s house. He would figure out what to do upon seeing Kurt later. He just wanted to see him again. He liked the thrill of meeting a boy who smiled at him. A boy who, from across the room, would blush when he caught Blaine staring. Blaine never really had that before and the thought of experiencing that all over again was, to say the least, exciting.

But, as much as he wanted to go, he knew staying in for the night and studying would be the smart thing to do. He wanted that A on his exam. He also knew his dad wouldn’t approve of the fact that he was ditching his schoolwork so he could flirt with some boy he met at a party. Boy being the key word. It wasn’t like he had to tell his dad where he was going. The fact that Blaine knew that he wouldn’t approve is what bothered him.

Blaine’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone vibrating against his desk

From: Paul

6:55 pm

Did u hear me, Blainers? Get your ass over here. She’s bringing Kurt!

Blaine sighed and tossed his phone back onto his desk. He scanned the floor for his shoes, finding one under his bed and another near his closet. He slipped them on before checking his hair in the mirror. Satisfied with his appearance he walked back over to his desk and grabbed both his phone and his car keys.

As he left the room and started down the stairs toward the front door, he composed a quick reply text to Paul

From: Blaine

7:02 pm.

On my way…