Upon seeing the signs directing Blaine and his father to one of the visitor parking lots at VCU, Blaine found it difficult to breathe. His grip tightened on the armrest. This was it. It was finally time for summer orientation, his first step to becoming an official college student.

Parking and registering was a breeze but Blaine was slightly surprised by how many students there were around, milling about on campus. He knew that this particular orientation date for the business department was also the orientation for other departments as well but he hadn’t quite gotten the feel of just how many fellow first years would be attending.

Well, it was better than being alone.

Blaine followed his father quietly, only speaking when needed. He was normally quite an outgoing person, not afraid to make friends, but that was when he wasn’t around his parents. When they were around, he just shut down. It was better to do what they expected and say what they wanted to hear instead of accidently saying or doing something they weren’t quite ready for. For now, he let his father do the talking while he looked over the packet he had been given. The front of it read:

Blaine Anderson

Business

6/19/2012-6/20/2012

GRC II

Room 204

“Let’s drop off your things and then make sure you have everything for your placement tests. Got your room number?”

Blaine looked up at his father. He gave the older man an easy smile and waved the packet slightly.

“Right here,” he informed his father. “And I’ve got everything I need for the placement test. It’s just math.”

His father quirked an eyebrow.

“Just math? Let’s hope your placement reflects how confident you’re feeling. When was the last math class you took?”

Blaine resisted the urge to sigh. His heart gave a small pang as he realized his father probably didn’t know what classes he had taken even in the past semester. All that mattered to the man was that he got the grades. As long as that happened, his father only had to worry about paying tuition and everything else for school.

“Second semester, junior year,” he told his father. “AP Calculus.”

“So you haven’t taken a math class in a year?” Blaine bristled slightly.

“I’ll be fine,” he said in a stiff voice. “I still remember what I learned and I reviewed some at home. Believe me, I’ll be fine.”

His father didn’t look too pleased at his son’s tone but nothing more was said about the subject.

Blaine’s room in GRC II was nice, as far as dorm rooms went. At least it was air-conditioned and carpeted, coming supplied with a fridge. A bathroom connected two rooms. Judging from the bag laying on one of the beds, Blaine’s roommate for the night had already arrived. However, the other boy was nowhere in sight.

Blaine’s father looked around the room with an approving expression on his face.

“Better than we had,” he commented. “We had to share a bathroom with the entire floor, not just three other people.”

Blaine placed his bag on the free bed, not responding. He never was sure how to respond to his father’s stories about high school and college. It put the man in a totally different light. It was near impossible to picture his father as the party animal his stories made him out to be.

Unzipping the top of his duffle bag, Blaine pulled out a smaller bag with everything he needed for the placement test already inside. There was also a notebook and pen for him to take notes when he was in the sessions laid out in the schedule. He was sure that he would need it at some time during the orientation.

“Ready?” His father asked for a second time. Blaine nodded and the two men left.

The placement test was a breeze, just as Blaine knew it would be. Of course, he wouldn’t be completely sure of how he had done until he registered for classes with his advisor. The schedule for his first couple of semesters was already basically laid out. He just had to decide what general classes he wanted to take.

“How was it?” another first year immediately asked him as he came out of the testing room. Blaine shrugged.

“Not bad. You?” he replied. The other boy groaned and tilted his head back. His blonde hair fell over his eyes.

“Torture,” he muttered. “I hate math. I never understood why my parents wanted me to take calculus. I didn’t understand it when I took the class and I definitely didn’t remember any of it now.”

Blaine gave a small smile.

“I can think of worse tortures,” he said. “I don’t mind math, though. At least the actual doing of the problems. I can’t understand the theory behind it for the life of me.”

The blonde boy smiled back at Blaine, lifting his head.

“That’s the only part I did understand,” he said. “I’m Thomas.”

“Blaine.” The two boys shook hands and Blaine took a seat beside the blonde-haired Thomas.

“So where do you hail from?” Thomas asked Blaine.

“Westerville, Ohio. You?”

“New York, New York.” Of course. The accent was apparent in Thomas’ voice. “I’m studying business. Are you doing the same?”

Blaine nodded. 

“I figured a generic degree is best for now. Majoring in something specific narrows your choices down and I’m not quite sure what I want to do.”

Thomas laughed. 

“Who does? But business is a good choice. At least we won’t end up on the streets in L.A., begging for jobs like them.” Thomas jerked his head to the doorway. Outside the building, sitting on the grass was a group of people sitting in a circle, chatting. Blaine sent a questioning look at Thomas. 

“They’re the Fine Arts kids.” The disdain was clear in the blonde’s voice. “Theater, singing, dancing, the like. Can’t get anywhere with a degree like that. They’re all delusional.”

The small smile on Blaine’s face felt more forced now as Thomas kept on talking.

One of the members in the group stood up. His hands moved theatrically while he talked and circled the group. Even from just looking out the door, Blaine could see that the chestnut hair was perfectly coifed and the boy’s pants were sinfully tight. He shifted awkwardly. Blaine tuned back into what the blonde sitting next to him was saying.

“I don’t mind it when people sing alone or at karaoke bars or with family but singing in group to compete like it's a sport? It’s just so weird. I don’t see how any guy would willingly do it unless they were a fag. Right?”

Blaine was sure that his smile had turned into a grimace by now.

“Right,” he replied. As soon as the word left his mouth, he wanted to shoot himself. “Thank goodness I was never one of those people.”

Oh god…What was he doing?