Someone is beside me, I can't really tell who, but they seem to be on the phone. Wow, they rush to my worthless, almost lifeless side, and can't even put down their fucking phone?

They're yelling so loudly, words like so much blood and send help please. I'm so tired...

The thread snaps and the last words I hear are strangling cries of my name. "Blaine. Blaine. BLAINE! Please stay awake! Come back! I need you!"

I try to focus on the voice, so achingly familiar. I no longer see just black behind my closed eyelids- red is filling my vision. Curtains of maroon blood, parted just slightly to reveal a large white light. My mother is standing there, preserved in her beautifully youthful state. She's glowing- wait. Her eyes are burning a beautiful red-orange, like fire. Her face in melting into my father's, horns sprouting out of his head.

"You're next, Blaine."

Large black vines creep out of the ground beneath his feet and engulf him. His arms, stretched out before me, are quickly covered and extended by the snake-like vines. One slim black finger grazes my neck and-

My eyes fly open. I grip onto the cold sheets, the stickiness of my sweat evident in their damp threads. In the blackness, I glance around me. No corpses or sources of slightly familiar voices, no flowing blood... I'm safe.

I let out a shaky breath and sit up, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. "Just a fucking dream," I mutter, gripping at the locks of my hair. "More like a nightmare."

A bright light is shining on my left and I look over to see the time reflecting back at me from my lovely iHome.

5:45 AM, it reads.

Well. Only three hours and fifteen minutes left to go. There's no way I can go back to sleep now, so I pull a t-shirt and pants from my dirty laundry and slide them on. I grab my phone, my headphones, and my key and stroll out of the door, out of the building, and into the cool autumn morning.

One of the awesome parts about boarding at Dalton is the beautiful grounds. As I walk through the neatly trimmed gardens, I pass at least two students having a morning jog. It's so green and peaceful out here, the dawn about to break in the lighting sky. There's a little memorial garden to my left for the founder of the school. Richard Dalton passed away six years ago, and the students at the time all chipped in to build a serene little space. Three stone benches surround a small koi pond. Huge stones surround the back end of it, and a small waterfall keeps the water flowing and stirring in the tiny source of water. They really did a nice job on it, with the small bushels of flowers such as forget-me-nots, poppies(his favorite), and white roses.

I snort to myself at the color scheme- red, white, and blue. America.

I sit myself down on one of the cool stone benches and pull out my phone-slash-music source.

As I'm scrolling through my song collection, I hear a rustle of leaves and a tiny whispered "Shit."

I whip my head around to see a small figure crouching behind some bushes not too far from where I sit. The figure moves an inch, falling into the light of one of the fog lamps. Recognition crosses my face as I realize who it is.

Jacob.

I clear my throat quickly and call out, "Hi, Jacob!", raising two of my fingers in a wave. Jacob stands up abruptly, smooths out his trousers, and heads on over to me. "Oh, hey, Blaine... Fancy seeing you here... Well, I mean you do board and stuff and so do I and we're in the same dorm area and you totally have the right to come out here when you want to because it's a free country and um... yeah, I'll stop talking now."

I almost burst into giggles at his nervousness. It's a well known fact that Jacob has a huge crush on me. Not that he's the only one who does, but my GOD he makes it so, so, so obvious. He's easy on the eyes, too.
light brown hair that falls just above the eyebrows, chocolate brown eyes, a small bit of innocence that I find endearing. I remember when I first met him. It was a few days after I transferred. I was walking to lunch when I noticed that someone was following me- not so discreetly- with a glazed, but determined look in his eyes. At that time, I still had my scars and bruises, my hair was a mess, and I was a shy little thing. I turned to Wes beside me and asked, "Who is that kid?" Wes turned around, saw Jacob, smirked, and turned back to me. "That's Jacob Samson, resident PG of the Dalton Halls." "PG?" I had asked. "Predatory Gay. It looks like you're his new target."

Now, looking at Jacob, he's so different. After I actually came out, he hasn't even gone after anyone else. He just follows me around like a lovesick puppy, swooning every time I talk to him. To be fair, I haven't exactly turned him down. I love attention. I don't want to break his heart by telling him that he's boring, not my type, and that I would never date him. Ever. Then he'd just mope around, feeling sorry himself, and I can't have that. I'm the only one who is allowed to feel sorry for myself.

"So, Jacob. What brings you here, at six in the morning?"

He simply smirked and said, "I could ask you the same question." His eyes raked up and down my body. "Looks like you just rolled out of bed."

I stand up, crossing my arms, and eye him suspiciously. "Care to tell me why you were being so secretive, hiding behind a bush that just so happens to be near where I'm sitting?"

Jacob blushed and rubbed at his neck, spluttering out, "I was just, um, you know, um... enjoying the view. Of the grounds."

"Of the grounds or of my ass?"

Jacob whimpered, his face red hot with embarrassment, and muttered something I couldn't quite hear. "What was that?" I ask, waiting.

"I said that I was wondering if you wanted to, um, get coffee with me later?"

"Sorry, Jacob. I've got plans today."

"Yeah, okay. That's per-perfectly fine. Yeah, I'll just, go and, um, yeah. Bye."

Uh, okay. "Bye, Jacob." I watch as he storms off, wrapping his arms around his middle. Oh well. I've got plans with Kurt today!

I smile as I think of Kurt. Beautiful, wonderful Kurt.

No. Stop. Stop doing that.

His eyes, they're so mysterious. So gorgeous, but guarded.

No. Stop smiling. No. Bad. Bad Blaine.

Fuck.
My phone reads at 6:15 AM, so I decide to kill some more time and take my mind off of things. I choose a song on my iPhone, turn the volume up to full blast, and take off running.

Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to
Strawberry Fields

I run past the garden, past the old oak tree, past the shiny white fountain, past all the serenity.

Nothing is real

I pass the two people again, taking a rest and drinking water. They don't have any thoughts to run from, they don't have anything plaguing their mind and ripping it to shreds. No. They're lucky.

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.

The cold air rips at my lungs and stings my eyes, and I need to stop- I should stop- No, don't stop. So I run faster.

It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out.
It doesn't matter much to me.

It all works out? Hah. I'm sure. Running, running, running. I keep on my own path, running circles around the back side of the school. I leap over a flower bush, and I almost stop because a shooting pain runs up the side of my leg but no. I keep going, sprinting, faster, faster, faster. I feel like I'm going to take off flying any second now.

Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to
Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real.
Nothing to get hung about, Strawberry Fields forever.

I stop only when the song ends, heaving and choking on air. My sides feel like they're going to split in half.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I grab my key from my pocket and push inside the warm building. My head is spinning. I grip the wall nearest me for support, and inch my way along to my dorm room. There it is, room 13A. My choking quickly turns into sobs as I push into the door, my heart still racing.

Why did I do that?

Oh, right, because I’m an idiot.

I crash to the floor as soon as I open the door, dry heaving and coughing. Why did I run at an inhuman speed? Why am I so stupid! I yank the headphones out of the slot in my phone and throw them across the room angrily. “G-god damn it!” My phone buzzes, indicating a new message, but I don’t care who it is. I throw the phone, too, and curl up in a ball on my carpet.

It smells of feet.

Tears spill down my face and I rock back and forth, trying to regain my senses. An ugly hiccup joins in with my wails, a rhythm that loops over and over in strange harmony. Hiccup, moan, more tears, hiccup, hiccup, wail, tears again.

I don’t know how long I stayed curled up on the floor, an hour, two minutes, it doesn’t really matter. I eventually stood up and pulled off my tear-soaked shirt as if on autopilot. Without looking, I toss it somewhere in the general direction of my hamper along with my pants. My mind is screaming at me, taunting me. Go find your blade, Blaine. You know you want to. You will feel so much better, won’t you? Just go pick it up.

For the first time in my life, I ignore my thoughts. My bathroom door is slightly ajar, just as I left it yesterday. I force my feet to propel me forward and I enter the white bathroom, my chest heavy. The mirror is slightly cracked at the top. My own doing, of course. I mess everything up. I pull off my boxers and clamber into the shower, twist the knob all the way on full heat and pressure, and lie in wait. My snotty nose starts to clear with the steam that snakes its way around my body. I am suddenly reminded of my dream-no, nightmare-, and the black tendrils reaching towards me. I shudder intensely and turn my face upward. The heated water drops attack my sore and splotchy face, stirring but soothing them.

The haze that clouded my thoughts earlier is starting to lift, the horrible, terrifying images slowly are retreating to the very back of my mind. Reaching back and gripping my shoulder, I pull my fingers towards me and start gently massaging my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension. I wrap my hands around my neck and tilt my head back, slap my face, and reach out to turn off the shower. The pellets cease, lingering only in a small drip, drip, drip down the drain. Sighing, I climb out of the tub, wrap a towel around my waist, and walk out of the bathroom flinching as a blast of cold air slams against me.

I calmly walk over to where I threw my phone and pick it up, pressing the top button to unlock it.

One new message from Kurt:
Hey, we’re still on for 9 right?
Received 7:05 AM

It’s already 7:45 now. Holy shit that was a long shower. I send a quick Of course :) back and started panicking. Okay, so now I’ve got approximately one hour to gel my hair (which takes twenty minutes to get perfect), choose an outfit, clean my face, eat breakfast (? Maybe I’ll skip), make a plan, and gather my composure. Okay. I can do this.

I race over to my closet and tread through the astonishingly numerous hangers yielding blazers to find my weekend clothes. I pick out a grey and white striped cardigan, a white polo, grey slacks, and a grey bowtie to finish it off. I rub my towel all over my body and slip into the clothes, the cool fabric clinging to my still slightly damp skin. Clipping my bowtie around my neck, I enter my humid bathroom once more and search for the gel. People might say that it’s ridiculous that one person can go through three tubs of gel in a month, but my gel is my secret weapon. It’s what seals the deal on Mr. Dapper Anderson, star of Dalton.

I scrub and scrub my face until it proves absolutely clean and faultless. I smile at my reflection and venture back into my room. I check my phone for the time and it’s 8:3o. Almost time. Now, what on earth am I going to do today?

Twenty minutes later, I’m out the door and heading down to the front hall, our designated meeting spot. I’m a few minutes early because I don’t like to keep people waiting, but when I arrive, guess who is already there? Kurt. Dressed in the skinniest pair of jeans I have ever seen. His back is to me, and his ass is rightfuckingthere and- no. Bad Blaine. Stop thinking those things.

“Hey, Kurt,” I’m saying before I can stop myself. He turns around and smiles when his eyes land on me.
I hate that smile.

“Oh, hey Blaine! You’re early.” Kurt chuckles and starts towards me. I feel so stuck, because I have no idea how we should greet each other seeing as we only met yesterday, but then Kurt is hugging me and his arms feel so damn good around me. I almost start tearing up.

This is the first time I’ve been hugged since, well, a really long time.

I pull back, instead, and smile at him. “So, are you ready for your tour of the oh, so grand Dalton Academy?”

He grins and replies, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Where to first?”

“Follow me and listen well,” I say, strolling to the left side of the building. I come to a stop in front of the doors I just entered through. “These are the dorms. There are three different sections- A, B, and C- nothing all that fancy.” I open the door and gesture for him to follow. As we enter the room, there are three different paths to take. I point to the one on the left. “That’s the A section, also known as where all of the Warblers’ rooms are, and the sports teams. There are about 30 rooms in each hallway, and three hallways in each section.” I gesture to the hallway directly ahead. “This is section B, where the students with the top grades stay. Well, all the ones who aren’t Warblers or jocks, for that matter. There are some students in this section that just got placed because, either there was no room, or their parents have influence.”

Kurt nods as he takes in all of this information. I point to the section on my right. “This, as I’m sure you know, is section C. This is where all of the transfer students go. You’d be surprised how many people transfer here, not unlike yourself. If you’re boarding here- wait, are you?” Kurt nods again. “Then you’ll be staying here. Unless you join the Warblers of course. Maybe then we can snag you the room next to mine.” I wink, surprising both myself and, obviously Kurt. He blushes and ducks his head before softly replying, “That’d be nice.”

I smile and reach out to touch his forearm, but he flinches before I get there. What? I bring the hand back to my head and scratch the back of my neck awkwardly. “Well, let’s go check out the other areas of the school.” My stomach starts growling at me as we walk, but I choose to ignore it. Now is not the time. I lead a reclusive Kurt back through the double doors and head on through to the right side of the school- the actual academics and administrative side. As we walk past some of the doors along the way, I explain to Kurt what they are. “This is the headmaster’s office, I’m sure you’ve met him already. He seems scary, but he’s an old softie. Those two smaller doors are the Deans’ offices, one for the upper classmen and one for the lower. Ours is Dean Canterbury, she’s super nice, and ah! Here we are!”

I stop walking once I reach the main classroom area for sophomores. I wheel around to face Kurt, who is looking at me with an expectant look on his face as if to say ‘go on’. “Okay, so this is the sophomore hallway. Every class that you will take will be here. In Dalton, there are no mixed classes. If you are a sophomore, you take the sophomore level classes. But, he academics here are a much higher standard. If you don’t get at least an 85 in every class, you are put on academic probation. But no pressure or anything.”

“Right. No pressure. Well, it’s a good thing that I was always an overachiever in McKinley. But please tell me that the French classes here are actually interesting and that I will learn something other than how to count to one hundred.” Kurt pleads with large eyes, and I pray to some higher power that he will always make this face.

“Don’t worry, Kurt. I’m sure that Dalton will far exceed your expectations.” I grin at him, and I allow myself, just this once, to feel. What that feeling is, I don’t quite know.
“It already has,” he breathes, smiling back at me dopily.

Well, shit. If I could see that smile for the rest of my life, I’d be happy. Bad Blaine. Blaine. Stop. No. You’re not allowed to feel happy. STOP.

I sigh and give him a small quirk of the corner of my mouth that barely counts as a smile.

Today is going to be a long day.