I burst out of the club, with my ears still ringing with white noises. Ive completely relieved myself of controlling my tears, so now my face is a palette of revulsion. The large crowd outside waiting in line gawk their eyes at me as I try to make my way far from this place, until a hand grasp me by my arm and forces me to halt. I rip my arm away instinctively and turn to find Logan panting in my wake. "You walk really fast, you know that?"

"What do you want?" I snap, and instantly feel bad. It isnt his fault my best friend is a controlling, devious cunt. In fact, Logans probably the only tolerable thing tonight.

"Im still on the clock," he tells me and I feel a small pang in my heart. Why did I think an escort cared enough to see if I was okay or not, of course he wanted to seal his pay check and make sure he earned it so Santana wouldnt have a reason not to pay him. I dig out my wallet from my back pocket and ask how much I owed him. He sighs regretfully. "I didnt mean it like that. You want to take a walk?"

"Look, youve been really nice and all but If youre only going to pretend to give a shit -"

"Kind of looks like it doesnt matter whether I give a shit or not, you look like you could use some company no matter what the circumstances are," he interjects before I can finish myself. I want to yell at him, scream at him to leave me alone but I dont have the fight in me so I turn on my heel and continue my pace, half running, half walking. I dont need to look over my shoulder to know Logan is still on my tail. After a few minutes, I bring down my pace partly because I feel my lungs about to explode inside my body but mostly because I feel a strange sense of guilt that Logans been following me since.

My heart is an organ of complexity right now. I am burning with rage at the mere thought of Rachel but by the same token, my guilt for Logan cools me. I find myself at the outskirts of Central Park when I finally decide to look at my surroundings. The park is a good 20 minutes from the club. Have I been walking that long? The itch in the back of my hoarse throat is a clear indication.

"You could use a break," I hear Logan tell me somewhere in my shadows. I know he is right because the second I registered those words, my legs start to feel like they can come off at any minute. I fall into a random bench that faces a tall building of some cooperate sham and inhale the largest gulp of air, wiping away the sweat now painted on the back of my neck. Logan doesnt sit next to, instead he remains on his feet hovering over me while I study the shiny shoes he has on. They have to cost at least $800. How much do escorts make? He doesnt say anything to me, which I appreciate because right now I could implode to an innocent shrub and still feel dignified. "You know what would take your mind off it?" he offers and I glare at him. He raises his hands up and takes on step backwards. "Im not suggesting that, though its not completely out of the woods," he says.

"Im just curious - was she talking about white picket fence guy?"

I feel my defenses rising inside of me, but it never greets the surface so I let my shoulders fall and that promising spark dies away. I sigh heavily and Logan nods dutifully. Im glad he doesnt respond with a string of probing, intrusive questions. Im starting to like him better than my best friend at this point. "You want me to take you home?" I know he means well, its all he knows in his line of career. It is in his job scope to comfort, to be the form of escapism.

"No," I sigh. In all truths, all I want to do is crawl under my sheets and scream into my pillow until my neighbor starts banging on his floorboards to tell me to shut up, but the real truth is that I dont want to prolong something that can be rectified sooner rather than later. If Ive learned anything, running from something only makes it worst. "Im going to go wait at the hotel for whatever porno massage service Santana has prepared for us." Logan chuckles and finally caves into the seat.

"Ill walk you," he tells me and we get to our feet, me more reluctant than Logan because I still feel like I must have disjointed a bone or something from my brisk. The sky is a blanket of darkness with thick grey clouds floating in its midst. The city lights look dimmer for some reason. Logan doesnt say much as we walk towards The Plaza, the sound of screeching rubber and rusty horns filling the noise around us. I want this bask in this silence, but the noise in my mind is almost overwhelming.

I must have seemed so gullible to Rachel - to believe her fabricated preaches of being Blaines savior. Shes does theatrics for a living, how was I so quick to believe in the bullshit she improvs at every show I attend? It makes me wonder if my brother was in all this, was he part of Team Fix Kurt Hummel? Did he also think I was stuck, that I needed somebody to pull me out of a swamp I wasnt even aware I was swimming in? The worst wonder is Blaine. Did they device the whole plan with him? Does he think Im pathetic? His sad high school boyfriend who is still hung up on him? An odd vomiting sensation forms in the pit of my stomach and all I want to do is clutch it tight and curl into a ball on the ground.

"So, Blaines his name?" ask Logan as we draw nearer to the hotel, the tip of the building visible behind the dense vegetation of the park. His name still does something to me - a knees weakening kind of something. I nod and heave a sigh. "I have a question that might or might not be personal, though the latter is unlikely," says Logan. He waits in silence for a green light that never came so he doesnt go on. I might hate myself for actively allowing the subject of Blaine to be an open discussion, but I tell Logan to go ahead anyway. "You told me that hes the one that got away, yet from what I gathered from the Jewish girls outburst earlier, youre resisting getting back together with him. Why is that?"

I have no response for his question. I stare at my feet while we walk, counting the cracks on the concrete I step on hoping that superstitions were real and a grand piano would drop from the sky and crush me to a comatose state enough to eradicate my memory of Blaine completely. I must have been silent for a long time because soon we find ourselves at the entrance of the hotel lobby. "I let the girl of my dreams slip out my hands, you know?" This garners my attention and I halt at my tracks, staring expectantly at Logan. He scratches the back of his head as if nervous all of a sudden, wishing he hadnt brought up what he did.

"We were 18, and I was crazy for her," he tells me. He takes a seat on the front few steps of the entrance, the door man eyeing us as if we had bombs tucked in our inner pockets. I join Logan because hearing someone elses tragic love story might put mine in perspective. "We had plans, you know? We were going to move to Hawaii where I would open up a bar and she would teach English at their local preschools. It seemed tangible at some point, in our adolescent minds it was something we could reach for, but nobody ever tells you how rough the road is, you know?"

"What happened?" I timidly ask after he is silent for a while. I dont know whether I was in a position to probe, but I did anyway. "We never made it. We strayed from each other. I kept reaching for things, for money, for promotions that I made her feel like she wasnt enough, so she took off and made me realize that I didnt need anything else, because I had her and she was invaluable.

"Anyway, when I tried to get her back she was already picking out China patterns with some guy who didnt understand how worth it she was. Sometimes I think about the life we could have had together, you know? And how I would give up all the money that I have now just for the possibility of a second chance at her heart," says Logan, his eyes lost in his reverie. "Im not trying to manipulate you into going after the guy that got away, Im just saying - not a lot of people get a second chance at the one that got away."

A part of me wants nothing more than to fall back into something that is familiar, something that wraps around my entire body and made me feel warm, made me feel good inside. I want nothing more than to feel that way, and Logan is right. Blaine really was the one that got away from me, or at least the one I thought was supposed to be the one. Maybe time has changed us. Im not a big believer on destiny, and soul mates are overrated but maybe there is some rationality behind this whole plan Rachel had orchestrated. Maybe this really is my second shot, and everything that stands around this opportunity only blurs its clarity.

What do I want? That is the question.

I can go on and on coming up with possibilities to fill both the pros and cons sections but that wont solve anything but to add to the mix of battling desires. It comes down to what I truly want, whether Im going to let Blaine slip through my fingers again or live my life wondering about the life I could have had.

"Youre going to say something or are you just going to leave a guys pouring heart by his lonesome?" ask Logan. I rest my head on his shoulders and sigh.

"At least I know youre straight," I say and he chuckles. He thinks he lost the girl, but somehow I think she lucked out. He rest his head on mine too and we sit there, two guys shit out of luck in the love department.

The doorman finally plucks up enough courage to ask if we were guest of the hotel, so we go inside and I tell the lady at the front desk that I am Santanas guest. She hands me a key to the penthouse and we go over to the elevator to wait for our ride up, except when the doors open, Blaine is inside, his bow tie now undone and the top button of his shirt has been unbuttoned. He looks at me through his canopy of lashes and is a surprised to see me.

"Hey, Kurt," he says, his eyes darting to Logan with a kind of questioning glare.

"Blaine, what are you doing here?" I ask. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Logans lips tucked into an amused grin. He grasp my arm and leans in to place a chaste kiss on my cheeks, whispering into my ears, "Before the China patterns, yea? Goodnight."

I wasnt prepared to feel disappointed and upset even as I watch Logan, hands tucked in his pockets and walking away. When Santana proposed our escorts, I was so against it now I wished he had stayed longer. "Whos that?" ask Blaine, his honey coloured eyes following Logans every step, with some form of discontent if Im not mistaken - or maybe thats ideally what I would want him to feel.

"That might have actually been God," I joke. Blaine frowns, not understanding the joke. Im glad he doesnt probe, Id rather keep my time with Logan sacred. "So, why are you here?" I ask.

"Puck has strippers giving Finn endless lap dances. I had to step out because I was getting crazy in there. What about you?" I tell him Santanas crazy plan for the second chapter of our party and he laughs.

"Doesnt sound like you would enjoy it very much," he tells me. Albeit it doesnt take an ex-boyfriend to figure that out, but everything Blaine does in relation to me always feels monumental. "How about a drink?" he offers, nudging his head to the bar tucked at the corner of the lobby. I agree because God knows I could really use a drink right now and we take seats at the stool. He orders 6 shots and I dont decline.

Looking at him now feels like Im looking at my future behind a glass panel - tangible, but not accessible. Blaine has always been the heroin in the fantasies of my future - waking up in our king sized bed on a Sunday morning, making breakfast in our underwear, feeding little John on his high chair - Id be lying if I said I never pictured those things for us back in my teen mind, but life clearly had different plans and now even the idea of monogamy is nauseating. Still, do I still want him?

"Heres to celebrate you," he says as he picks up one of the small shot glasses and waits for me to ceremoniously clink my glass with his. I frown at him. "For Milan."

I find his refusal to ignore the elephant in the room annoying. At least let me down 15 shots of this thick, pungent beverage before I dive into a subject that clearly knocked everyone off their seats. The tips of our glasses clink lightly before he chugs the entire thing down and I follow suit. The liquid burns the passageways of my throat as it descends, leaving me with an awful aftertaste. I have no idea what this is, but its clearly not my favourite. We do more of the shots, silently chugging it down in seconds before Blaine orders another round. Bu the sixth, my head feels lighter than clouds but I still feel the ground solid under my feet.

"Have you made living arrangements for when you arrive there?" ask Blaine, his face crimson from the alcohol. For some reason I find the urge to laugh, and I do, so loud that I probably garnered the attention of the woman sitting at the couch engrossed in her dirty book.

"Living arrangements? Really? Thats how you test the waters?" He furrows his eyebrows, and I wonder how the alcohol hasnt made him find humour in everything yet.

"Well, what would have been a better water tester?" he ask, a slight grin in his beautiful face. I purse my lips and pinch my chin, feigning to be deep in thought and he laughs at me, a melody that is music to my ears.

"How about; why cant you stay?" I suggest, and even in my drunken stupor, I realize that it is the dumbest thing to have suggested, one that opens up a whole other impression for Blaine. He is quiet, spinning his glass on the counter before he turns to look at me, his feet caught in between mine.

"Do you want to stay?" he ask, his tone dropping an octave to something that is riddled with intensity, with seriousness that i cannot process in my new state.

"I dont have a reason to. New York has brought me nothing but a myriad of shattered remains," I tell him, fidgeting with the outer ring of my shot glass, trailing the surface to emit a soft shrill. "What is there for me here?" His eyes locked with mine, the colour of dusk, of honey syrup, his pupils dark like a vortex to another dimension. Its baffling how those eyes still have a profound effect on me, when he hurt me, when Im drunk - no matter what the circumstances are, some people just have your heart in a leash. He doesnt say anything, but stares right into me. I dont know where I mustered the confidence to stare right back at him, until the corner of his lips tuck upwards and he loses the staring game.

"Were in dangerous territory here, babe," Blaine whispers, as if afraid that somebody is eavesdropping on us. Maybe he thinks Logan might get jealous. I wonder what he means by that.

"I have a question I might need answered truthfully," I tell him. I had no other way of gradually transitioning to it, its either now or Ill forever be left wondering. Better now in my drunken state so Ill only remember fragments of this conversation and maybe the truth will sting a lot less if I dont remember fully. He chugs down another shot and turns to face me, his feet still tangled with mine. For the life of me, I dont know why I havent pried away yet. He nods for me to go on, and I suck back a heavy breath.

"Did Rachel get you to come to Southampton so you could get back together with me?" The incredulous look on his face is unmistakable, I dont need to wait for his verbal response to know my answer. I take another shot glass and down the contents. By this point my throat has already been conditioned to love the feeling, to crave for it even. "Because that was her intention," I hoarsely go on.

"Youre not kidding," he states and I shake my head, contemplating whether this next shot would be a good idea come morning. "I didnt know, I promise you."

"What a devious, stupid plan, right?" I say. In truths, I never truly had quite a strong suspicion that Blaine was an accessory to this plan. Thinking that would have suggested that he was still hung up on me, which weve clarified mutually that we werent. Still, its good to hear the truth in words.

"I cant believe it. This is an absolute new low for Rachel, huh?" Blaine says and I agree, clinking our shot glasses in unison. I cant even recall how many of these Ive had anyway, but something tells me a lot considering I think the world has tilted to a less stagnant angle. "Still, I dont think its a stupid for her to want that for us," says Blaine. Even in my state, I furrow my brows at him. "I mean, we were pretty good for you each other before our fallout."

I cant disagree on that. Sometimes I still remember how Blaines lips taste on me, or how his hands feel when the grasp on my waist - strong, confident. We were good for each other, the best I think.

"Do you remember your sixteenth birthday?" ask Blaine and my cheeks blush bright crimson at the memory. I can feel Blaines hot gaze on me, see him pulling a victorious smirk at how I still remember how our first sex went.

"I dont," I lie, and see Blaine scowl from the side. I cannot hide the playful smirk forming at my lips and I look over to him and shrug my shoulder. I really hope he finds me insufferable, or at least adorably annoying.

Blaine opens his mouth to say something, but in that second, my phone that I left resting on the counter top buzzes. I pick it up and read Santanas name across the screen. I hesitate to click the answer button, but cave in in fear that it might be something important.

"Where are you!" she bellows across the line. "I get your beef with Rachel, but this is her party! You cant miss it! Shes willing to apologize!" Santana says, but in her background I hear Rachel scream that shes not before her words are muffled followed by a string of Spanish profanities coming from Santana. "Can you meet us at the hotel?"

"Yeah, okay," I say. I think these drinks have made me less angry, or probably just an illusion of calm. I know Ill feel differently in the morning but I know that I want to rectify things with Rachel tonight. I dont want to prolong something that can be fixed quickly. Blaine raises his thick brows at me in question and I tell him that I need to get back to maid of honor duties. Somehow I dont feel very honoured by Rachel.

"Ill walk you," he tells me as he leaps off the stool and land gracefully, and standing on his two feet. I dont have the same luck. When I clamber off the stool, I almost lose my balance and Blaine catches me, his right hand firmly grasped on my waist to keep me steady. I cant find the words that come pouring out of me. "Oh - maybe I do remember," I say, biting my bottom lip and attempting to salaciously wink. Alcohol does strange things to your control.

I stumble towards the elevator, almost tripping on my own two feet but Blaine holds me steady as we wait for the doors to open. I rest my entire weight on him. I havent realize how much muscle he has gained. He had muscles in high school but not as prominent as now. I wonder if its because hes a doctor and keeping a healthy lifestyle was important to him. He doesnt even look like hes struggling to keep me up. When the doors open, we go inside and I stable myself with the railing on the side walls of the elevator. Blaine stands on the opposite side and the doors close as we ascend.

I glance over at the large mirror on the far wall of the cabin and am appalled at how horrible I look. The brisk walk I took in the night air absolutely ruined my face, and my hair has deflated almost completely. All I need right now is a long good sleep. Maybe Id skip the sex massage altogether.

"Do you really not remember?" ask Blaine, his head tilted in inquisition. I realize hes been staring at me the entire time, his arms stretched out through the railing pole, biceps straining his sleeves. I bite the corner of my lip to pretend to be deep in thought again, digging through the archives of my sexual encounters but I dont need to because the memory is most prominent in my mind.

The way he kissed me, the things he whispered into my ear, making sure I was comfortable, taking it slow, the trust I had in him, the needy moans like he has never wanted anything more - I remember everything so vividly as if it happened yesterday. I feel myself getting aroused by the mere memory of it and flush, hoping my erection is concealed by the length of my lose shirt. Blaine still has his eyes trained at me, and I cant place it necessarily, but something in them ignites a fire inside of me. He looks devastatingly handsome.

Then he takes a step forward, so slowly as if sneaking up on a prey. His eyes still locked with mine, compelling me to stay rooted in my place. The metal screws of the ground squeak as he walks forward, and suddenly this elevator feels a lot warmer than it did. Before I can register what hes about to do, he lunges forward and presses me up against the wall. His lips find mine but he doesnt kiss me, but he brushes his lips against my own, his hot breath intoxicating me, his strong arms snaking around my back to find the gentle extrusion of my bum. My breathing is hitched, slowly out of breath from the sudden close proximity.

"I guess I have no choice but to remind you how fucking good we were together, do I?" he whispers against my lips and I succumb to Blaine and press my lips against his and I completely forgot why wanting him was ever a question.