#this is shitty oops

task number two ; an aesthetic board

When Blaine went to school that day, he didn't expect to feel so angry about everything. Everything pissed him off. Of course, when Sebastian was around, he didn't show that. Plastering this smile on his face, hugging him as much as possible, telling him how beautiful and perfect he was, pretending to be okay. He wasn't. When he was alone, or in a class without him, he didn't do his classwork. He stared at the clock -- waiting. He snapped at anybody who said anything to him about it, Jeff, Thad, and even Trent. He wanted nothing to do with anybody, he didn't want them to calm him down. Because this wasn't going to end in the ideal, peaceful way as he'd imagined. Lunch had been painful, Blaine sitting alone with Sebastian, trying to hold up an entire conversation throughout the entire lunch period without mentioning Hunter. Without mentioning what he was going to do.

The day ended after what felt like years, and it was time to practice. Warblers were already mulling around. He ignored anybody, none of them being who he wanted. Blaine didn't meet Sebastian at their normal spot, he didn't walk him here. Because he knew Sebastian would have stopped him. 

It started with a confrontation.

"Clarington. I have a bone to pick with you." And of course, the smug little shit flashed a smile, trying to act as though he was some innocent saint. It just pissed Blaine off more.

"Blaine, why so formal?" 

"Why so adamant about lying to my boyfriend about the kind of person he is? Why so degrading to somebody because they're better than you?" There was a crowd forming, some stragglers, but mostly the Warblers, concerned with the scene going on. 

"Don't know what you're talking about." Blaine just nodded, shaking his head. He'd tried. He'd tried to be civil, tried not to just go for it, but his vision, and his thought process was clouded by the pure rage he felt because of this asshole in front of him.

Nobody was allowed to downtalk Sebastian, much less make him cry, and upset, and. No.

Blaine swung first, and the satisfying sound of his fist connecting with his face is was caused everything else to just disappear. Blaine was a boxer. Hunter from a Military Academy.

Obviously, there was blood spilt. Not an enormous amount nobody got stabbed but, there were definitely an equal amount of blows. 

The fight was intense, even if it doesn't sound like it, and it ended when Blaine pinned him down to the ground and just. lost it. His heart was pumping rapidly in his chest, the adrenaline burning. A couple of people, perhaps more than a couple, had to drag Blaine off of him.

He barely even glanced at Hunter, his body shaking just a little, and he didn't know who it was that had such a firm grip on his arm, and was scolding him for his actions. He assumed it was a teacher. 'Don't know what's gotten into you children lately, you're all mental.' Fft. 

The talk with the headmaster didn't end on a very well note. If not for his clean record, and the fact his parents had actually paid his entire tuition, as well as his good grades, he would have been expelled on the spot. He didn't tell them why. He wouldn't. He didn't act like he cared.

As the report was being written, Blaine waited patiently, the adrenaline dying down, His face was throbbing, his side ached, as did his stomach. He'd noted that his lip was split at one point, and there was a possibility he'd received a black eye as well, but he didn't know. He stretched his jaw, making sure it wasn't dislocated anywhere, and was pleased to find that it was only a little sore. Eventually, a thin stack of papers were handed to Blaine, he was told that he was no longer allowed to participate in any type of curricular that condoned violence, and a bunch of other shit he didn't listen to.

He was still on the Warblers, though.

After signing a piece of paper, he was told he was allowed to leave, and that his parents had been called, a message left on both of their phones, since neither answered. He ignored them. He didn't care.