"Mr. Anderson, your grades really don't indicate that biology is the right major for you. You are doing much better in your French classes, have you considered that as a major?"

Blaine's adviser, a small, gray haired women in her early 70's who had spent a lifetime doing groundbreaking medical research, gave him a look. It was supposed to show sympathy, he thought, but instead came off as quite demeaning. He bit his tongue to stop from telling her she needed to work on her acting skills.

"I haven't failed any classes, Dr. Butler. And I lived in France for two years. I enjoy the language but I don't plan to make a career out of it."

"Blaine, med school isn't for everybody. There are other choices. And with your condition, you have to be careful, right? It is very stressful to be a physician, you know."

Blaine ambled out of the required meeting with his academic adviser, who had refused to give him permission to take two classes he needed. He was required to see her every semester, and this was not exactly the confidence boost he needed to begin the second semester of his sophomore year of college. All of their conversations had been the same. She would try to discourage him from staying in the major, based on the C's and B-'s he got, he would be polite as he could, then leave and work out for an hour to blow off steam.

Seriously, what a bitch. So he wasn't good at standardized tests, so what? Grades didn't mean everything. This is what he told himself over and over on the way to his room to change for the gym.

Blaine walked into his dorm room and saw something strange. There was a pink hanging tapestry that now divided the space between his roommate's bed and his own. Dammit wasn't that the kind of thing that roommates were supposed to discuss before doing? It was nailed to the ceiling, so Andy must have purposely waited until he knew Blaine would be out for a few hours to do this. The divider put Blaine on the opposite side as the windows. He peeked around the pink monstrosity and saw that Andy's entire side of the room was now meticulously decorated with throw pillows, potted plants in the windows, and woven tapestries on every wall. And was that a new comforter on Andy's bed?

Sighing, Blaine grabbed his clothes and changed, heading for the gym without bothering to bring a jacket since it was just across the street. He could deal with Andy, who was a little bit materialistic and more concerned with image than a teenage social climber, but was mostly quiet and studious. Andy was studying to be an actor, but double majoring in French, and Blaine enjoyed practicing with him. He groaned at the thought of the serious roommate discussion they would probably have to have about this. Something about respecting common space perhaps? Blaine felt tired even contemplating it.

A sign hung on the large glass doors leading to the modern university gym facility.

Closed due to medical emergency. Will reopen tomorrow. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Dammit, he needed to do something, and jogging around Washington Square Park was not going to cut it. Frustration and anxious energy was already beginning to leak into his brain, like water into a sinking ship. There was another gym, an older one, about a 15 minute walk away, so he decided to go there instead.

Along the way he got chilly since it was the middle of winter, so ducked into one of his school's buildings, which turned out to be the counseling center. A cute boy was handing out fliers to students so he grabbed one to be polite, stuffed it in his pocket, then made his way to the old gym.

It was open, but after about 10 minutes on the treadmill he started having trouble with his allergies. There must be some kind of dust or mold in the room. He could sort of smell it when he walked in but had ignored it.

His frustration with this day was about to spill over onto something or someone, so he decided to go back to his room, take 4 benadryl, and sleep until it wasn't today anymore. On his way back from the gym, he passed that same cute boy from before. His hair was a little messy fromt he wind, and his face had a somewhat elfin appearance. His eyes were very very blue. He must have also recognized Blaine from earlier because the boy smiled and approached him.

Bad idea.

"Hi, my name is-"

"Not now," Blaine replied curtly, barely looking up and continuing on his walk.

Shit, that was rude. Well at least he hadn't punched anybody. Andy wasn't in the room when he returned, and he thanked god for small miracles. He popped his allergy pills, face-planted on his bed, and tried to forget that he even existed.