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A Winning High-- or, low


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Alright, here is the long-awaited Glee Project story for Going Nuts! I was stuck for a while, but managed to work my crazy brain's murmurings into a first chapter! I guess I get more inspiration late into the night, when I should be fast asleep. And sorry, it's very short. But here is your hot Irish boy loveliness, and some sniffliness.

Part 1-


Blue eyes cracked open for the seventh time in ten minutes, and a heavy sigh escaped the Irish boy as he struggled to sleep despite his pounding headache. He had no idea how long he had been flying for, but it felt like days. Raising two fingers to his temple, he rubbed a gentle circle, face screwing up slightly. These long flights were really taking it out of him, not to mention the overwhelming stress of the Glee Project.

His chest tightened up suddenly, and his breath caught in his lungs, causing him to cough harshly. The deep, crackling coughs made his head spin and pound dully once more, and he gave up sleep altogether, concentrating on ignoring his pain.

He had been feeling the symptoms for days now, but he knew he really couldn’t afford to get sick, especially not this far into the project. The utter fatigue had come first, closely followed by the splitting headache and the raw-feeling, sticky, sore throat.

He groaned. The newest symptom had made itself known that morning, was back to torture him further. This new manifestation made it utterly impossible to ignore the signs anymore. His breath hitched quietly, shakily, and he surreptitiously pressed the heel of his hand against his nose, but to no avail.

“Hehh… Itshhh’uh! Heh-nggxt! Mm… Ugh.” The second sneeze he stifled, trying not to draw any unwanted attention his way. He needed a tissue. And maybe some sort of miracle, causing his budding cold to disappear completely. At least it had come now, after he’d won. He knew this cold would have ruined his chances if he had been getting sick while still in the competition. Thinking about winning made him feel giddy and light, though that could’ve easily been the DayQuil he’d taken a few hours ago.

Damian pulled the sleeves of his gray sweatshirt over his hands, shivering a bit, and pulled the hood over his messy brown hair, attempting sleep once more.

This time, after about fifteen minutes of trying, he managed about an hour of much-needed sleep, interrupted only by the pilot alerting him of their landing.

He disembarked, sneezing three more times politely into his sleeve. “Heh’etschoo! Huh-kktshoo! Kshhetchshoo!”

A blonde woman walking briskly by shot him a nasty look, and shrank away as they drew near to each other. He looked at her apologetically, about to say something, but she just made a disgusted sound and hurried past. He pressed a tissue to his nose and sniffled miserably.

He just wanted to go home.


More to come, I promise! It's easier once I've started...

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  • 2 months later...

omggg o_O please tell me you haven't forgot about this story, it sounds amazing already! really hope you continue with it:) <3

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I guess I'm not very true to my word... shy.gif Now I feel bad. Sorry everyone! Okay, I'll finish this. I'll definitely finish this. In fact, I'll work on it right now. I promise to update soon. and I'm being truthful.

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Hey, I updated! Very delayed, and I've been crazily busy this weekend with choir concerts and studying and shopping, but I squeezed this in, and I've got some ideas for the next chapter too. This installment is short, and it only has a little sneezing, so I'm sorry for that. Also, though I can do a pretty good Irish accent, I have no idea how to write one, so I'm sorry if the dialogue is ridiculous! With that being said, here is Chapter 2:

As soon as Damian got to his hotel room, he collapsed on the bed, feeling wretched. His eyes slid shut, misery accompanying his itchy nose, aching throat, splitting headache, and the shivers wracking his body. Luckily, one of the shops at the airport had been selling cold medicine, so he’d stocked up.

He tossed some back, grimaced, and washed it down with some bottled water. Nothing here seemed friendly. The brands were different, the people were downright mean, and within the few months he’d been in America, he’d been ill twice. As much as he loved the country, being so far from home felt awful.

Deciding things would look better in the morning, he’d just lay down on the soft comforter once more when his phone began to vibrate. He wrenched his eyes open, glanced at the caller I.D., then answered.

“Hi, Mum.”

Damian! I’ve been calling you for days now! Don’t tell me you’re too busy as a television star to ring up your old mum once in a while.” Her voice made his heart ache with homesickness. Tears sprang into his eyes, and his throat became dry, making it hurt even more, and making his voice sound like a disaster.

“M’sorry, Mum. Things’ve been really hectic here lately. Since I won the Glee Project, basically it’s just flyin’ back an’ forth an’ staying in hotels an’ stuff. I miss you, though.”

Oi, you getting sick before your first day of filming? You’re voice doesn’t sound good at all.” The Irish boy sighed. He should have known he couldn't hide it from his mum for one minute.

“I’m fine. The medicine here doesn’t do quite as much as your ol’ soup recipe, but I’m taking care of myself, I swear.”

Drinkin’ lots o’ tea?

“Yes, mum.”

“Good. You’ll do perfectly. And I’m comin’ to visit in a few weeks anyway. Hold off till then, okay?


Get some rest, and I’ll phone you tomorrow evenin’, okay?

“Night, mum.”

“Night, Damian, love you!”

There was a click, and he tossed his phone beside him, massaging his throat. A few more sneezes stole any remaining energy.

Hht-kkschoo! Heh-etshuh! HuhEt-shah!

With a sigh, he pulled the covers up to his chin, turned off the light and closed his eyes. Speaking to his mother had greatly improved his mood. Feeling excited for the day tomorrow, he drifted off to sleep.

Hope you liked it! Again, sorry for the length and the lack of sneezing. More of both in the next part, I swear.

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