Author's notes: Huh. I've been pretty prolific lately, haven't I? So here's the first part of the sequel to Visions of Rain. If you haven't read that, this will make no sense. This is not a stand-alone story. Updates will probably be kind of slow because I'm writing this down by hand (easier to get away with in multiple settings than typing this up on my laptop), but hopefully it's enjoyable.

Edit: Okay, let's try this again and see if screws me over again by deleting this without my say-so.

Blaine didn't know if he'd ever get used to the feeling of putting on his uniform after an entire summer of nothing but t-shirts and jeans.

Sure, he liked the conformity of the uniform—he liked being the same as everyone else because he finally felt like he belonged. It had been so comforting to him when he'd first transferred; the uniform had allowed him to blend into the background. No one could touch him because he was on equal ground.

That didn't mean that he felt out of place when summer first hit and he had to slip back into his own clothes. That didn't mean that he didn't feel odd going back to the uniform after three months of randomly picking out shirts and not having to iron creases into the seams of his pants. It wasn't so much that either option was particularly awkward; it was changing from one to the other that was difficult. He felt like completely different people when in and out of uniform. But he was a senior this year. This would be the last time he'd ever have to make this shift.

He checked himself one last time in the mirror, straightening the crisp, white collar of his regulation shirt. He'd always had trouble getting the stupid shirts to lay right, even after his mother insisted on getting them fitted. There was something funny about the way they were cut or maybe the way he moved. Maybe it was all in his head. They always looked strange to him.

His fingers slid up the silk expanse of his tie and tightened the immaculate knot at his throat once more for good measure. He frowned at the red and navy stripes leading up to his neck. He'd never liked the tie. It reminded him a little too much of his dad, coming home late into the evening, still fretting away over something or other for work. He'd have been happy to make the comparison before, but now he couldn't help but think that the man worked way too much; Blaine hardly saw him anymore, and he felt a twinge of guilt at the thought. That was probably his fault—his dad had never really been the same after he came out four years ago, spending more and more time at the office and less and less time at home. Blaine knew he was ashamed of his gay son. He just didn't have the courage to say it outright.

He sighed as he shrugged on his jacket and studied his reflection. Three months ago he would have loved most any excuse to wear his uniform, to slip back into the comforting familiarity of the starched wool and cotton, but now it felt like a sham. He'd become a different person over the long summer months and now, stuffing himself back into the starched fabric of his blazer chafed more than he'd ever have thought possible.

It had to be painfully obvious to everyone that looked at him that something had changed. He wasn't the same Blaine Anderson they'd once known: he was somebody different, somebody stronger or at least he desperately hoped so. How could he not be, knowing what he knew? He didn't belong here anymore, and that stung like a knife to the gut. He wanted to belong here, more than just about anything as a matter of fact, but he didn't know if he'd ever truly feel like he fit again.

Blaine sucked in a deep breath and straightened the lapels of his jacket one last time. His reflection stared back, looking just as nervous and resolute as he felt. "Well, Blaine, this is it. Might as well just get this over with."

Uniforms weren't technically required just yet. Not until that evening at the welcoming dinner with all of the deans and administrators, but it made him feel more official. And really, with the news he was about to deliver, he needed to look as professional as possible. No one would take him seriously—they'd think he was joking with them—if he showed up in a t-shirt and jeans.

The door handle was cool and firm under his hand, and he shot the room one last fleeting look before stepping outside. His roommate for the year had thus far been elusive but neat. Blaine almost felt bad about his request to switch rooms. Alex was all right, a good kid, but Blaine was needed elsewhere. Hopefully he'd put in his application early enough for someone to take notice, and he was supposed to meet with Kurt, his dad and the deans next week. Things would work out. Hopefully for the best.

There were a fair number of boys milling about the halls when he left, more than he'd anticipated at any rate. There were all kinds of faces littered throughout his path: there were wide-eyed freshman wandering around in partial uniform, trying to navigate the halls without their upperclassman guides and searching for classrooms in the veritable maze that was Dalton Academy; there were friends and boys he recognized from a class or two but whose names he couldn't place if he tried; there were complete strangers, boys out of his social circle that he'd maybe seen once or twice in passing. No Warblers, though. No, he knew exactly where they were.

The halls were bustling with life, and for a moment Blaine lost himself in it all. This place, this school, had been his home for two years now, and walking down the familiar corridors felt like returning from a long vacation, like sleeping in his own bed after weeks of nothing but hotel mattresses. But the thought suddenly reminded him of his real home, not five miles away, and the smile fell from his face.

Blaine could see his mother sitting alone at the dining room table, the glass of wine that had become her staple perched delicately in her fingers while she waited for his father to come home. He could see his father, still in his button-down shirt and one of his hideous ties, typing away a this computer late into the night.

He could see himself curled up on his bed in the dark, staring out the slightly open window, trying his best to ignore the empty cage in the corner, trying to blot out the hard, uncomfortable silence that filled his room with headphones shoved deep into his ears, trying to overcome the intense feeling of loneliness that had seeped down into the very core of his being. The house was always so quiet nowadays, and Dalton was anything but silent.

Blaine quickly found himself standing before the room so often commandeered for Warblers practice. All of the musical groups liked to practice there if they could—the one piano to be found in Dalton's halls was a valuable asset, particularly when it came time for competitions and auditions for the All State musical groups.

He steadied himself with a deep intake of air, his hand grasped firmly around the door handle. He hadn't expected to feel so intimidated, so nervous. It hadn't been anywhere near as bad when he'd been primping up in his room.

Get a hold of yourself, Blaine. These are your teammates, your friends. There's nothing to worry about. They'll understand.

The handle went down smoothly and quietly, like it knew how badly he didn't want to be noticed while at the same time knowing how much he needed to do this. The door swung open and Blaine suddenly found himself the center of attention.

This sort of thing was so much easier when he was singing.

All of the current Warblers were there, lounging on the couches and tables. They'd been chatting about one thing or another. Most were out of uniform, though he noted a few guys in the standard slate grey slacks. Only one other guy besides him was wearing his jacket.

The quiet talk that had filled the room before his entrance had stilled and a thick, uncomfortable silence draped over the gathered boys like a blanket. Blaine shot the group a quick, nervous smile that fell flat before ducking his head and scurrying up to the front.

There at the head table sat the council members. Fresh new faces were in those seats, brand new seniors. Just like him.

He swallowed as his eyes trailed down the table. Looking at the council now only made him feel more like an imposter. These guys had struggled and given their all to get where they were now while Blaine had simply been the go-to frontman—the guy who stood up on stage with a big, stupid grin on his face while he belted out the melody. The real work, the real magic in the music came from the guys in the back, singing together in pitch-perfect harmony. His job was easy. All fronting. No real worries except maybe screwing up the words. He wasn't worth much. Not like these guys.

He slowly walked to the middle of the table where an empty chair sat waiting just for him. There was the gavel, and he was sure that if Wes had been there he would have spouted off something about traditions and how this particular gavel had been in use since 1917 or something like that. Blaine looked out over the gathered Warblers once more, and he felt a twinge of sadness. He knew all of these guys, but the gaps in the group from all of those who'd graduated and moved on to college and better things hit him hard. Perhaps people might think the same of his empty place next year. He never missed the comforting presence of David and Wes more than in that moment. They were always so much more confident and self-assured than he was.

He stood behind his chair and cleared his throat; he was afraid that if he sat, he'd never be able to get back up.

Courage, Blaine. These are your friends. Things will be fine.

"Um, hi," he started and chastised himself for being so informal. "So. I bet you're all wondering why we're all here right now."

Nick spoke up from his seat down the table, and Blaine couldn't help but feel a sense of relief now that he no longer had the floor.

"As you know," stated Nick as his eyes swept across the room, "it is highly unusual to hold a meeting in the first week of school, let alone on the first day, but Blaine put in a special request. Before we get to that, however, I'd like to note that the meeting and invitational for new members for next Tuesday is still on. Please let a council member know if you cannot make it. Auditions for new Warblers will take place the following week." He looked back at Blaine, waiting for the other boy to speak once more.

Blaine felt every eye on him again. He wasn't really ready for this, but these guys needed to hear what he had to say. So far only three people knew. And not a one of them was here right now.

"My fellow Warblers." His voice was shaky but firm. Everyone could probably tell just how nervous he was. "I hope your summer vacations went well, and I'd like to thank you all for showing up. I know most of you probably have better things you could be doing right now."

He looked over the group again, trying to read their faces. He wondered if any of them realized that they were missing one of their current members.

"I would also like to express my deepest gratitude to all of you for selecting me to not only be on the council but to the council presidency." He ducked his head and chuckled a little. "I'll admit that I'm still a little shocked about that."

He paused, trying to find his nerve before it left him. He swallowed before speaking once more. "But, as great an opportunity and as much of an honor being elected to this position is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to resign."

An even deeper silence fell over the group—even his fellow council members looked shocked. He sucked his lips into his teeth and tried not to look anyone in the eye.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded, not bothering to look up to figure out who was asking. "Yes."

Nick simply chuckled nervously from his seat, his voice breathy. "Come on, man. Stop shitting us." All pretense of formality had left him.

"I'm not. That's why I requested a meeting, even though it's far too early in the semester for it. I can't keep this position."

A quiet query split the air, and no one was sure who said it. "Why?"

Blaine could feel his nerve leaving him again. These guys deserved at least a vague explanation, but he wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I…There was an incident over the summer. I realized that I'm not as good at dealing with stress as I thought I was." He looked up to see several hurt faces and quickly covered his tracks. "I'm not quitting the Warblers. Don't get me wrong, I just…I don't think I could be an effective leader."

"What happened?" asked one of the guys. Adam. Blaine recognized him—he was a junior this year.

Blaine smiled sadly and shook his head. "I can't say. I just don't know that I'd be able to handle the burden of being the council president at this time. It's not you guys, and I honestly thought that I could do this when I took the job, but I can't, and I'd like to promote Jeff, our esteemed vice president, to the presidency."

Jeff shot him a hard look, but his face revealed very little. "You know this is highly unorthodox."

Blaine smiled a little, half expecting Wes to pop up out of nowhere and spout off some random factoid about Warblers regulations and history, but he was in California now, nowhere near Westerville, Ohio.

"Yeah, I know."

"Are you stepping down form the council altogether?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "That was sort of the plan, yeah."

"Okay," sighed Jeff before he shifted over a seat into the middle. Blaine walked over to stand on the periphery of the group, fading away into the background. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he once more sat on this side of the council bench. "So now that we are short a council member, we must elect a new one. Are there any nominations?"

Chris, a sophomore this year and still relatively new, stood from his spot on one of the plush couches and gestured to the boy at his right. "I'd like to nominate Aaron. He's a senior this year, and I know he put in a lot of extra time last year during the winter concert season. He helped me and a few other people with their parts when he had spare time."

"I'll second that."

Murmurs of approval rippled through the room before the boys fell silent once more. Jeff swept across the room with his eyes. "Anyone else?"

There was nothing.

"All right. Then all in favor of electing Aaron to the council?" Every hand was raised. No one particularly felt like dragging this out any longer than they had to.

"And all opposed?" Nothing. Jeff smack the gavel sharply against the table. "All right. Congratulations, Aaron. You are now officially the newest member of the Warblers council," he said with a light smile.

A small round of applause broke out among the group, and a few of the guys offered Aaron congratulatory high fives and friendly pats on the back. Jeff banged the gavel once more and the group settled.

"Is there any other business that needs attending to?"

Silence.

"Okay then, Warblers. We meet up again on Tuesday. Don't forget; it's imperative that you be there. Meeting adjourned."

The boys began to slowly filter out of the room, chatting as they went. Blaine hung behind, waiting for the room to empty. He didn't feel much like socializing at the moment—too many questions to be asked, and he had no answers to give. He didn't notice Jeff moving up beside him to lean against the back of one of the old crimson couches.

"So," said Jeff, splitting the silence that had settled over the room, finally drawing Blaine's attention. "What's up?"

Blaine let out a little amused huff of air as he looked at the other boy. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"What, you don't want to answer a simple question?"

"Nothing's ever simple with you."

"True." Jeff leaned back against the firm frame of the couch. "But you're not always the brightest bulb in the box, you know. A lot of the time I can't tell if you're really that stupid or if you're just playing dumb. Seriously, Blaine, what's going on with you? You can't just go and land one on us like that and give only a half-asssed explanation. I don't think that most of the guys noticed, but I did. So tell me, what's up?"

Blaine frowned and walked over to the piano. Someone had been in there before the meeting and had left the lid to the keys wide open. He sat and silently ran his fingers over the white expanse before him, relishing in the feel of the smooth ivory under his hands, ignoring Jeff and his question.

Jeff sighed and stalked over to the piano, shoving Blaine down a little on the bench so they both could fit. He looked over the keys and began to play a slow, simple melody with his right hand. Blaine glanced up at him and memorized the pattern of his fingers before joining him in the lower register, the notes flowing in near perfect harmony.

"You know," said Jeff without looking up from the keys, his hand continuing to play, "you're going to have to tell me a reason for this whole thing, or I'm going to have to start guessing. Or worse, make something up."

Blaine didn't say anything; he just kept playing, adding in more and more elaborate harmonies. He was trying to avoid this conversation altogether.

Jeff sighed. "Did your parents split or something?"

"No."

"Your sister get a terrible new boyfriend, or elope to Jamaica with some biker?"

He rolled his eyes with an unamused chuckle. "God no."

"You have a pet die?"

Blaine faltered and his fingers slipped a bit causing the notes to jar together in a terrible clash for a split second before he caught himself and went back to the first, more simple harmony, scowling at his slip. His mind had flashed back to his bedroom and now he couldn't stop seeing little yellow feathers crusted with blood swimming all over the keys. Fuck.

"Hmm. That's never easy." Jeff brought his other hand up and complicated the melody a bit, trying to distract Blaine. "I remember when my dog died a few years ago. Cried for weeks afterward. Heck, I still miss her when I go home. You lose a dog too?"

Blaine didn't trust himself to speak. He merely shook his head. No, it wasn't a damn dog.

"Cat, then?"

"No. My mother's allergic."

Jeff frowned in confusion and thought back. Wait a minute. Blaine had always been kind of crazy about birds. Maybe… "Was it a bird? I know how much you like them, but I didn't know if you owned one or not."

"Yes, okay? It was a fucking bird." His hands were striking the keys a little too hard. The notes were coming out far too harsh. He was getting too worked up, letting Jeff get to him.

"Okay, okay. Jeeze. There's no need to get pissy." Jeff changed the notes up a bit and went silent, letting Blaine calm down by figuring out how to match the new chords. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry to hear about it. Losing a pet is never easy, man."

Blaine was silent, his face hard and concentrated solely on the piano, like he hadn't even heard Jeff speak. They continued to play in silence for a while before Blaine's quiet voice split the air. "It was Pavarotti."

Jeff's fingers came to a complete stop as the words sunk in. Pavarotti. He knew that name. And it was a bird. But that meant…He turned to the boy beside him, his face bunched in concern.

"Blaine?"

Blaine didn't respond. He simply sat there, his hands resting on the keys, though no sound came out. They'd given away that damn bird almost as a joke. Very few new members actually got a freakin' canary when the joined the group. Jeff hadn't thought about it before, but now it made so much sense. And oh god, that made this that much worse. How could he have missed this before?

"Blaine, where's Kurt?"

Blaine pushed himself up from the bench and stood without saying a word. Jeff made no move to follow; he simply watched as Blaine walked stiffly from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.