I DREW A NEW FACE and i laughed!

[STONE FITZGERALD]

WELL OPEN UP YOUR MIND AND SEE LIKE ME
OPEN UP YOUR PLANS AND DAMN YOU'RE FREE
LOOK INTO YOUR HEART AND YOU'LL FIND LOVE LOVE LOVE

In a manner of a few days, Fitz had been thrust into the world of Dalton Academy, in a completely new country, with absolute strangers, where it was obvious that he was foreign; it seemed like everyone was waiting to see if he would sink or swim. Fortunately, there were some aspects of his new life that weren't too different. The school uniforms weren't a problem, because nearly all schools in Melbourne had uniforms. Though he'd never gone to a boarding school before, Fitz was used to being independent from his parents, so it wasn't a problem. All the rules and traditions, on the other hand, were a big problem for a teenager who had never paid any mind to what he was "supposed" to do and what he wasn't "supposed" to do. The teachers here were stricter, the classes were harder (or, maybe they weren't, and Fitz was simply making an effort to pay attention for once and realizing how little he knew), and he was very overwhelmed. Culture shock, some might call it. As eager as he was to get out there and meet new people and try new things, Fitz also needed some alone time to absorb and process the past few days.

Some alone time with himself and a couple pieces of toast and jam.

It was no secret how much Fitz loved his breakfast food. After a day of having the same furrowed brow, one eye wider than the other, confused expression in all of his classes, as he tried to scribble some notes and understand what was going on, all the while getting in trouble every few minutes for breaking rules he didn't even know existed (who knew you weren't supposed to talk in class while the teacher's talking?), before he eventually just gave up, Fitz decided to unwind with strawberry jam and toasted white bread. Probably the simplest of meals, especially when compared to the borderline insane boy about to consume it, but Fitz would not have had it any other way. Well, okay, he probably would have picked pancakes over toast if it was an option, but they did not have pancakes in the eating area in Windsor House, and so Fitz was very happy with his toast.

Grabbing his plate, Fitz hummed to himself as he strode over to a seat by the window. The room was basically empty; most other students seemed to be at extracurricular activities, or doing their homework, with only the occasional uniformed boy coming in to grab a snack or a refreshment before retreating back to the library or their dorm. Even if the room had been full, Fitz probably would not have noticed either way, as he was stuck inside his own world, humming and whistling bits of melodies that entered his head as he gazed longingly at his toast. He was often in his own head space; even when he talked to other people and socialized (as he often did), Fitz never seemed to be... all there. Like he was constantly in danger of getting lost in his thoughts and never coming back. And there was absolutely no hope when he was left to his own devices.

Since he was little, Fitz had always hummed and sung to himself; usually just passing phrases that wouldn't leave his mind. Sometimes full nursery rhymes that he found particularly amusing. But there was something about food that just... inspired him. Especially breakfast food. Maybe it was because he had an aunt who would sang him a whole breakfast song when he slept over at her house - he'd forgotten the lyrics by now, the melody remained vaguely in his head, and he knew the words mainly involved listing a bountiful breakfast feast. Or maybe he just wanted to express his excitement about eating the food (no matter how counterproductive it was). No matter the reason, Fitz always found himself singing to pancakes, toast, waffles, or even the occasional side of sausage.

Fitz had no control over what song would come out of his song next; it always simply happened. It usually wasn't a whole song, because he had few reasons to memorize a complete song, but it was enough. And he gazed down at the slightly burnt, slathered in strawberry jam slices of toast, and smiled.

"Well you dawned on me and you bet I felt it
I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted
I fell right through the cracks
And now I'm trying to get back"

It started off soft, as Fitz got into the rhythm and the words, not sure how he knew the song so well, but also not questioning it. Fortunately, Fitz had never been one to care about what other people thought of him, and so he didn't seem to mind at all if anyone walked in on him at this moment, eyes staring down at his still uneaten toast, his singing turning into belting as the song progressed. A declaration of love for his toast? Something like that.

"So I won't hesitate no more, no more
It cannot wait I'm yours
There's no need to complicate
Our time is short
This is our fate, I'm yours"

Fitz took a pause from his song to take a satisfying bite from his toast - one of those bites that crunches slightly, and so the sound seems to echo, like in a commercial for a toaster. He didn't even seem to mind that the toast had gone cold in the time it had taken him to sing parts of the love song. Toast is toast, after all.

tagging Blaine first! (and then any other Dalton boys)
words 938
lyrics i'm yours by JASON MRAZ
notes ... rambly post about breakfast foods is rambly.
credits this was made by PARTY POISON

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[BLAINE ANDERSON]

Blaine had always loved the first day of school. It was no longer quite the festive affair it had been in elementary school (half the teachers in high school plunged headlong into their syllabi and treated it like every other day), but there was still something exciting about new classes and his old school uniform and being surrounded by people he liked instead of stuck with his parents. The afterglow still clung to the second day, even as he started to realize just how much work his schedule was going to take and how much he still had to accomplish before he could graduate and (hopefully) get the hell out of Ohio.

It was now three days into the school year, and Blaine was definitely feeling the beginning-of-semester blues. He’d more or less accepted that it would be impossible to stay awake in Physics AP half the time—the room was windowless, the teacher had the voice of a radio host, and Blaine had only gotten five hours of sleep because he’d already fallen back into his comfortable routine of leaving his homework until three in the morning while he browsed the internet, gaging how long he could handle the LGTBQ Sex sub-forum on Reddit before becoming horribly self-conscious…and attempting to settle on an audition song for the Warblers. It was just a formality, really, but it was tradition, and every opportunity to sing in front of people was an opportunity to do something he really liked.

He couldn’t wait for glee club to start up again…even if it meant that he’d somehow need to be conscious and alert from four to five this afternoon. A nap was probably out of the question, but he could grab some coffee, at least.

Thank God the dorms had fairly well-equipped, well-stocked kitchens. The dining hall was hardly convenient to anything else—at least for a simple cup of coffee. Plus, its hours of operation were limited, unlike the hours teenage boys happened to be hungry. Blaine wasn’t quite sure if the school still provided most of the food for the kitchen, or if the students, after consuming it at such an alarming rate, had taken it upon themselves to make sure supplies didn’t run low. He’d bet on the latter, considering how reluctant the school staff had always been to set foot in Windsor house.

He drifted across the lounge and into the kitchen, automatically snatching a paper cup coated in that waxy stuff that was probably going to end up causing horrible diseases or single-handedly destroying the environment or something. Songs? He’d been mulling over a few angry numbers over the past two weeks or so, but now he wasn’t sure he was really feeling it. He’d come to accept this seemingly permanent state of uncertainty as to what he was actually feeling. Maybe an emotional song would have made the others uncomfortable, anyway. He usually tried to keep his personal feelings out of his glee club selections. He’d go for something more upbeat and accessible…

“I’m Yours” was a great song, which…had occurred to him because…someone in the lounge was singing it. Right, he definitely needed his caffeine. Odd, though. He didn’t think he recognized the voice and he couldn’t remember for the life of him who’d been out there when he’d come in. His attention span wasn’t exactly performing feats of wonder right now.

He jabbed his thumb into the glowing button on the coffee machine and filled his cup to just over three quarters. It was definitely necessary to leave room for creamer because the plain coffee from this machine—actually all the school coffee—tasted…interesting.

He emerged from the kitchen with the diluted coffee clutched loosely in one hand and scanned the room for the source of the singing: the only other occupant, a boy Blaine only vaguely recognized looking down at his plate of toast. He was pretty good, and might have had a slight accent. Blaine tried to remember if they had any classes together. He tended to arrive a bit early and sit near the front of the room, just out of habit, so he sometimes missed people, especially if they didn’t speak up in class.

As he approached, he started to get the feeling that the boy was addressing the toast as opposed to just directing his gaze at it. …Well, the kid had somehow ended up rooming in Windsor, where much stranger things occurred on a daily basis. Blaine shrugged to himself, not at all put off, and slipped into a chair at the table right next to the other boy’s, setting his bag on the floor as the song finished. (He found this a little less intrusive than actually seating oneself at someone else’s table without asking.)

“Hey.” He smiled, turning his body and leaning against the back of his chair. “I love that song. Were you thinking of trying out for show choir?” He took a long swallow of coffee. It was definitely starting to help.

“I’m Blaine,” he added, reaching back and setting his coffee down so he could offer his hand to shake. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around much before. Are you new?”

tagged: Fitz!
words: 867! Rather on the short side for me; sorry. xD
notes: ...Funnily enough, Blaine did "I'm Yours" in the course of the absurdly long crack plot taking place in the ICC. Cue a mysterious sense of deja vu, haha.
lyrics: raise your glass by p!nk
credit: LAVIEBOHEME @ caution 2.o