Saturday October 9th, 2010
Blaine's POV:The smell of day-old vomit and unresolved hostility isn't a pleasant scent to wake up to.
I shifted in my sleeping bag, sensing weight on my chest. My limbs had become tingly and I'm sure that my shoulder blade was not in the right place. Why did I sleep on my side in the first place?
Suddenly, I heard gentle sniffles beside me, whoever it was had turned over, yanking our shared comforter with them. Sure it was below freezing outside but they just looked so serene. Well, until they kicked me in the shins.
"Shit, you're strong!", I bit down on my bottom lip, making a failed attempt at stifling my suffering.
The other person shot up, removing their arm from my chest and backing away. "Blaine? Are you alright? Sorry, it's the night uh - night fidgeting, yeah." He flicked on a flashlight, casting an eerie gleam on his frightened and pale complexion.
"Kurt? If I'd known it was you I wouldn't have scared you like that. I don't remember us falling asleep next to - wait a sec."
Alex.
After I knocked him out, Kurt was still shaking and whimpering. That's why we slept so close, he was terrified and I was giving him protection. It swelled me with pride, knowing I had defended Kurt and kept him stable. That's just the standard savior complex, right?
He hugged his knees and rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. "Yeah. Last night was kinda difficult so you helped me through my panic attack. Thanks for that, by the way. The situation just reminded me of McKinley, the locker room, and, well you know the rest."
Nobody else had woken up yet, except the sun who was streaming through the open curtains. Oh shit. Sunlight means morning and morning means sectionals. "Dang it, my phone's dead. Kurt, what time is it?" I had begun searching through my duffle bag for my uniform and some hair gel. Heaven knows I need some.
"7:30. What time do we have to be there?"
No no no this can't be happening. We didn't just sleep past our alarm and we aren't going to miss the competition. The drive to the venue is an hour alone which means we have less than 90 minutes to get dressed, rehearse our routines, eat breakfast, and cure our headaches. No pressure at all.
"10:00! But we might be able to do this. I'll wake up the guys and get their clothes ready. While I do that you can get the pain medicine out and try to cook some resemblance of a meal. Come on, it's our job to save sectionals."
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Thirty minutes later we were dressed to the nines, hair styled in perfect coifs and uniforms wrinkle-free. Kurt had prepared water and Tylenol for everyone to choke down, along with hearty bowls of oatmeal made with leftovers from David and Wes's mini-fridge. It was a miracle in itself that we were all standing on our own two feet by 8:00.
I'm not so sure the boys appreciated my wake up call which consisted of me screeching like a banshee, clanging pots and pans on the kitchen island. Their loss. I have the morning voice of an angel.
By 8:30 we were on the coach bus, running scales and vocal drills, much to the distaste of our faculty advisor driving the vehicle. A few of the guys refused to contribute, most likely bitter from last night's incidents.
I crouched in my seat to get some attention from the others. "Hey, Warblers! Time for a pep talk by yours truly!" Every head whirled my way, eager for some guidance and reassurance.
"Look, I'm fully aware that today didn't start like intended. But we managed to get ourselves together and here we are, on our way to sectionals. I don't want any in house warfare or resentment. For the next four hours, we're going to be besties whether you like it or not. We'll cheer on our opponents even if we don't win. I'm less apprehensive about snatching a trophy than reestablishing the honor and gentlemanly nature of Dalton Academy."
The guys clapped and whooped, restarting their warmups and pre-show rituals. Kurt sat next to me, still frigid and alert.
"Kurt, what's up? You look like you found out Wicked got canceled or something." His steel facade faded as he took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles.
"It's just, what if we don't win? We'll lose our reputation, our dignity, our hard work. Don't get me wrong, I adore my McKinley friends, but you guys are my new home. And I can't imagine a year without any more competitions."
I didn't say anything for a few seconds. He has a valid point. We lose sectionals and with that, we lose most of our funding. Parents don't pour money into a program that only comes in second place. But we'll never win if we keep up this loser mentality.
"We will win. You know why?"
Kurt peered away from the condensation covered window. "No, why?"
"Cause of our outstanding side-stepping of course!" We both giggled until tears came to our eyes.
The New Directions might as well throw in the towel while they're ahead. Cause the bird doesn't always have to be early to catch the worm.
Hey guys! I know I said I would post this chapter on Wednesday but it was the day before Thanksgiving and I wanted to spend it with my family. I can't believe that we're only like fifty reads away from 2,000! It's so rewarding seeing positive comments and votes when I check. And I try to respond to the ones I can because interacting with you is crucial to me learning your stories. I'll probably put out the second part of this chapter on Sunday. Have a great morning, afternoon, or night. You can overcome any obstacle!
Your fellow geek,
- Lindsay 💕
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Warbler Infections
FanfictionWhen Kurt transfers to Dalton he has no idea what he's getting himself into. The boys all seem average and almost normal on the outside, but looks can be deceiving. Will he adjust to a new life, new friends, and a new infatuation? Includes Klaine...