The sun rays pour into my bedroom. I want to open my eyes to greet the day, but my head is pounding so hard and I know that when I do open them, my head is just going to feel worse. This is why I hate drinking.

I flutter my eyelids before I open them completely. That's when I realize there is someone else on my bed. He has curly dark hair, eye lashes falling like waterfalls, a slight snoring calmly fills the room. He stirs in his sleep, his hand brushes against my arm- and with that one mere touch, the events of last night come barrelling back to me.

"Oh my god," I say in horror, and Blaine's eyes shoot open- his brown eyes filled with the same shock as mine is too.

"Shit," he mutters.

I scramble out of my bed, pulling the duvet along to cover my very nude body. Blaine rises to a sit down position and he watches me fret. I twist and turn the piece of cloth, muttering under my breath.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," I repetitively mutter.

"Kurt-"

"I can't believe that happened," I say, breathlessly. "How did that happen? I have a boyfriend. We're- we're best friends," I say in gasp, still twirling the duvet to cover myself. "This didn't happen. How did this happen? You were- we were drinking- and then NYADA, and your father- and we were drinking. We were drunk- we weren't thinking-"

"Kurt-" Blaine tries to intervene but I forget him. My mind is about to explode both from the hangover, and the guilt, and this whole situation.

"I have a boyfriend. Gabe- oh my god, how could I do this to him," I say in fear, to myself- completely ignoring Blaine's presence, though I feel his eyes watching me as I self-panic.

I cannot process this. I just slept with Blaine. The words, even in my head, sound surreal but it is real. I feel it- and I mean that literally. I feel my stomach compress, and expand at my guilt. My guilt that has formed a mountain.

"I cheated- I cheated on my boyfriend, with my best friend," I am gasping for air. "What am I going to do," I feel myself desperately trying to hold back my tears. I never had a boyfriend, let one cheated on one.

And now I have this man who loves me beyond himself, and I cheated on him. My skin feels cracked. I feel like I am on a podium and everyone is looking at me in disgust. I don't like this feeling- this guilt, this persistent self disgust I feel.

"How could I have done this," I mutter. Blaine is just staring at me. I know what he's doing- waiting for me to calm myself. I can't look into his eyes- those brown eyes because they are a reminder of what happened last night. The eyes I looked into before everything just spiraled and I couldn't stop myself.

"We were drunk," I say. "We were drunk. It was a mistake. It was a drunken mistake, right?" I say and I glance over at Blaine.

He bites his lower lip and his face falls for a second. I cannot see his eyes, and I wonder his hesitation. I cannot bring myself to look at him for more than nanoseconds because- well, because I slept with my best friend.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Drunken mistake."

"Oh my god, what am I going to do! Gabe- I have a boyfriend and I cheated on him," I cry out before I sink to the ground and pull the fabric over my curled up finger. My stomach feels tight- my lungs feel like there failing me. The ground should open up and swallow me because..because I cheated on someone who loves me.

Warm tears begin to form at the corner of my eyes. I bury my head in between my knees, trying so hard to press down this enormous feeling of guilt. It is eating me up inside. What have I done.

"Hey," I hear Blaine's comforting voice coming towards me. I want to back away- away from him, but I can't. I cannot move. "Please don't cry," he says.

"How can I not!" I snap. "I cheated on Gabe. With you! With my best friend who he always had suspicions about- he's content that we were once a thing, and now this happens and if I tell him..he's going to be so hurt. I've hurt him, Blaine! I've hurt the person I love!"

I wail. I want to blame him, I want to blame him for making me feel this way. Blame him for what happened, but I know I can't because it took two people to make this happen.

"It was a drunken mistake, like you said," Blaine says calmly. "It was my fault, okay? I should have stopped it, but like you said, we were drunk, we weren't thinking, and we both received news that made us lose our thoughts for that brief moment. I wasn't thinking, and I'm sorry this happened."

He's trying to assure me, trying to take the blame but I know deep in my gut that it's not his sole fault. It's mine as well. I am about to interrupt him, tell him I did this but he cuts me off.

"It was my fault. I kissed you first. I was drunk, and I found out my father is cured. I wasn't thinking because I was too relieved that he's okay, so I kissed you and we were both really drunk. It was my fault, okay? You didn't do anything."

"Blaine, it wasn't just your-"

"No, it is," he says with certainty. "You were there, and I find know what came over me. I'm sorry."

I want to argue, but right now my guilt is tearing me up inside like a wolverine in a cardboard box. I take a quick glance at his brown eyes, and I am calm again.

"It was a drunken mistake," he says, but I see his eyes flicker for a second. "It wasn't suppose to happen, and it didn't mean anything. Just- a drunken mistake. You don't have to tell Gabe anything, because it didn't mean anything."

I know he's trying to reassure me, but in some deep depth of me, his words stung. I don't understand it, but the words of how it meant nothing stabbed me a little, but it shouldn't- because it didn't mean anything. It was just a drunken mistake.

"How can I not tell Gabe-"

"Because it didn't mean anything," Blaine interrupts. "It was not suppose to happen. It was a mistake. You don't have to tell him because- because it didn't mean anything."

I process this. Keeping a secret from my boyfriend, that I cheated on him? I already did something I thought I would never do in a million years, now I have to lie?

"Kurt," Blaine sighs and he sits cross legged in front of me. "Gabe loves you, and I know you love him too. I don't want you to lose him because you seem happy, and I want you happy. This did not mean anything, right?"

I want to nod, but did it really mean nothing? Yes it did. It didn't mean anything. I have to believe it didn't because if it meant something, it will open a whole other Pandora box. I nod my head, despite being unsure. Blaine is silent for a second, and his head falls again.

"Then it didn't mean anything," he says. "Don't tell him. It will ruin what you have with Gabe, and you don't want that."

"But Blaine- I don't want to lie to him."

"You won't be lying," he says. "You'll just be keeping a mistake you made from him- for his own good. You love him, don't you?"

I nod.

"Then don't tell him."

I gauge this- should I tell him? I don't know if I can keep this from him. I don't want to lose him- my first boyfriend, the first man who had ever loved me. I don't want to lose him, and if I tell him, I will. I look at Blaine, and I can't tell that look he is wearing. I don't recognize it. My eyes fall upon those lips, and I shudder at the memory of how those very lips were all over me- everywhere.

"It didn't mean anything to you, right?" I ask.

He chews on his lower lips for a second, and I am distracted. Those lips- who knew my best friend had lips that feel so soft all over my body- no. What am I even thinking. I should push that out. I should, but I cannot stop thinking about it.

"No," he says and my attention is back. "It didn't mean anything."

"Okay," I breathe steadily. "So then- I don't tell him."

"Because it didn't mean anything."

"Right."

We stay seated across each other, and finally my eyes meet his. Brown, warm- but I feel something different when I look into them now, in fact I see something different too. A different gleam? A disappointment? I don't know, and I don't know if I want to know. I tear my gaze and somehow I feel awkward, naked in front of him. My best friend- I feel awkward in front of my best friend. My best friend, I remind myself of that.

I glance carefully at him, but my eyes travel down his bare upper body top. His slight chest hair, his neck..my fingers were trailing that skin just last night. I have to get this out of my head- these thoughts, this memory.

"I'll go- take a shower," he says. "And we can forget this ever happened. We should forget this ever happened."

He glances at me again, and our eyes meet for a brief second before he tears away, stands and disappears into my bathroom.

I stay glued to the ground, trying to puzzle out my insides. My guilt is mountainous. My head is spinning and throbbing from all that has transpired. I don't understand what I am feeling. Nothing is logical again.

Finally, I decide I should forget this. Forget this ever happened, just like Blaine said. I don't want to lose Gabe. I love him, I do. I have to forget this in order to still have him, and also, forgetting would also benefit my friendship with Blaine. Forgetting means saving our friendship. I conclude, and try to forget.

I rise to a stand, my head throbbing like never before. I stay still and allow myself to be pulled together, before I take a cautious step forward and walk slowly into my living room. It is a mess.

The bottles of alcohol Blaine brought here are on the kitchen counter, but that is not my focus right now. The focus, however, is the knocked down lamps, picture frames, the clothes on the floor, and on the couch. I walk forward and begin picking every piece of clothing I see.

I blush crimson when I pick up my underwear. My thoughts revert back to last night's event, and how my underwear came off- and the works afterwards. No, I have to forget that. Forget it happened. I collect the clothes, sort which one is Blaine's and lay it out on my bed for him. My bed is a mess too- though this one is areasonable explanation.

The couch feels heavenly when I take a seat. My mind is finally settled and not throbbing. I close my eyes and begin to breathe- a slow pace of inhaling, and exhaling, but my thoughts once again run back to last night- events that happened on this very couch.

Those hands on me, those lips on my neck, the stubble chest hair on my fingers as my hand travelled down his body. The sound of a zipper, the sound of a button, the sound of heavy breathing. The feel of his lips on mine, his tongue caressing my own. The tantalizing sensation as his finger skim down the sensitive portion of my spine-

The sound of a footstep pushes me of a cliff and I am crashing into Earth. I stand a little too quickly and my legs give in. My head throbs and I crumble onto the ground. I yelp in pain when my head throbs even harder.

"Are you okay?" a concerned voice ask me. I open my eyes and Blaine is in close proximity. He smells of him. His eyes look into mine, and I am again brought back to last night- and how those eyes were gleaming with fire.

"Fine," I quickly say. "Headache."

"I'll get you something for that," he says and he slowly eases me to my feet. His touch burns into my skin.

I close my eyes and allow myself to sink in on the couch, until Blaine reappears with a cup of water and an Aspirin. He hands them to me and I swallow.

"I better- get going," Blaine says.

"Oh," I say. "Right, okay," I make to stand but Blaine gently pushes me back down.

"Don't get up. Will only make that hangover worst."

"So- we forget, then?" I ask.

"If you want to," Blaine says.

"We should forget."

"Yeah," Blaine says, and he stands there with his hands in his pockets, his feet shuffling. "I better- go," he says. He looks at me and I see him wanting to walk forward, but he doesn't. "I'll see you," he smiles.

"Blaine?" I call him before he leaves. He turns and waits for me to go on. "I'm really glad- about your father. I'm glad the surgery worked."

"Me too," Blaine smiles. "More than words can express."

"I guess there was hope after all."

He smiles. It feels maladroit between us and I don't like it one bit. I feel strangely nervous in boxers and a wrapped around blanket- I feel exposed, in front of my best friend.

"I'm glad you're still in NYADA," he says. "My doubts were right, they didn't kick you out."

"Thanks," I smile and the awkwardness settles back in.

"I'll see you," he says again and our eyes meet for a brief moment, and he wears that look again. That look I don't understand, and then he's gone- out of my apartment.

This is crazy. What the hell happened last night? One minute we were talking about the past, the next we were naked in my bed and Blaine is behind me and- no. No thoughts of that memory.

I close my eyes but I lose myself again- I lose my control and my mind wanders back to last night.

The lights were dim. I see nothing- nothing except wonderful brown eyes, gleaming with a passion unlike anything I have ever witnessed. Those soft lips pressed against mine. Every thought obliterated into ash. Every sense I have enhanced, every touch is sensual, burning onto me. My hand travels up his sweaty back.

He enters me- again, and again, and again in a rhythmic melody. I hear nothing. The sound of New York tuned out and all I hear is the heavy panting, the skin contact, the groans and the moans of complete ecstasy, the hammering of a beating heart.

My climax. I remember releasing myself into a complete and utter universe as I explode into shards. I scream aloud a familiar name. He finds his own release as well and he falls forward and his lips are on mine again.

Oh dear god, what the hell. I open my eyes and I breathe again. No thoughts. No thoughts of that- what am I doing. I should be forgetting, not replaying it in my head. Strangely, for a drunken mistake, somehow I remember everything vividly.

I stand and slowly walk to the kitchen, picking up the bottle Tequila and Pure Vodka from the counter. I am about to thrash them, when I realize they are heavy in my hold. I examine them, and I realize that the bottle of Vodka is still half filled, the Tequila bottle is still full to it's brim even.

No. We were drunk. We were definitely drunk.

My phone rings then and I quickly store the alcohol away- because they are evidence and a reminder of last night too.

I pick my phone up and my heart sinks. It is Gabe. My boyfriend. The person I love. I stare at his incoming call long enough for my heartbeat to form a rhythm. I contemplate on ignoring, or sending him to voicemail, but I realize that if I want to forget last night ever happened, I should take closer steps to the person I want this night to be far away from. I swallow my fear, my guilt, and press the answer button.

"Hey babe," Gabe says cheerily and my insides basically breaks into different organic parts.

"Hi," I mutter timidly. My guilt is on overdrive.

"Yesterday was great. I miss spending time with you," he says and it's like a knife on a open wound. How could I have done what I did to this man.

"Me too," I say.

"So, any word from NYADA?"

I am trying my best to keep my breathing steady- keep myself from crumbling to the ground. I don't know how am I going to get through this phone call, let alone see him. I exhale slowly, and quietly.

"Yeah, Carmen called me last night," I say and my heart clenches. "I'm in."

"You are?" he says. "That's great! We should celebrate. How about celebratory cum I'm-sorry-for-that-shit-with-the-test sex?"

I gulp hard. With worrying about having to talk to him, trying to keep this from him, I completely forgot that what will happen when it comes to sex. Can I actually do this? Lie to my boyfriend? But is it lying, if it meant nothing? If it didn't mean anything though, should I feel this deeply guilty?

"Where are you?" I ask, changing the course of the topic. Not very subtle, thank you to my threatening-to-burst self. He is silent for a second.

"I just woke up, still nude," he says and I blush. "That should give you a hell of a mental picture, I hope."

I laugh nervously.

"You okay?" he ask.

"Yeah- of course," I stammer quickly. This is impossible. I can't lie. I'm the worst liar in the world, but I have to. He doesn't deserve what I did. What I did was horrible. Horrible to him because he loves me. He is the first man that I can call my boyfriend, the first man that loves me just as much I love him.

Maybe it's a selfish act to hide this from him, but I don't want to lose him.

"So, what did you do last night?" he ask, and my heart sinks once more.

The events rushes back into my mind. The gentle caress of his lips on mine. The indescribable sensation of him inside me. His panting, his sweat, his eyes, his hair. His body on me, our chest flushed. Our bodies in one- no. Oh god, how am I ever going to forget this when the recollection is so persistent. I have to lie- I can't lose Gabe. I swallow my guilt and try my most convincing tone of voice.

"Nothing much," I say with as much casualness I can feign.

"Nothing exciting?" he ask.

"Why? No, of course nothing exciting. What are you talking about. No-"

"Okay, relax," he laughs. "Anyway, I hope to see you soon. I miss you already."

What did I do to deserve this man, because clearly I don't. I cheated on him. The number one no-nos of being in a relationship. I cannot believe I did this, and somehow the words I hope Blaine won't come between us is a mantra in my head. I let this happen. I can't believe I let this happen. Again, I breathe. Lie, for everyone's own good.

"Miss you too," I say.

"I'll call you soon, okay? I have to go now. I love you," he says.

It feels wrong to say it back- those words. It feels wrong to say it after what I've done. After I betrayed his trust. I want to say it back, assure him with those words, but something is stopping me. The drunken mistake, or is it something entire differently? But I want to assure him, and maybe the way to forget is to actually get drunk on love, with my boyfriend.

"I love you too," I manage to spit it out though I feel icky inside.

"You sure everything's alright?"

"Fine," I say.

"Okay," he says before he hangs up.

This is too much to handle on a Saturday morning. It's crazy. Mad crazy. What did I do, and why didn't I stop myself from letting last night progress further. Was I really in a state of making rash decisions? That is me when I am drunk. Making rash decisions, but was that really the case? I have a hangover, that is for sure, but if the bottles of alcohol were barely touched, how on Earth did I get drunk?

I'm over thinking this. I am. Like Blaine said. Drunken mistake. It wasn't suppose to happen, and it does not hold any profound meaning behind it. It was simply two people, drunk of booze. It happens all the time, right? Between friends? People get drunk all the time and sleep with people they're not suppose to. Besides. It didn't mean anything. I'm sure of it.

I sink back down to my couch and take slow, steady breaths. Lets take this in points, shall we- I slept with Blaine, I cheated and lied to my boyfriend, I'm lying to him because I love him and I don't want to lose him- a selfish act, I know. I should just tell him, and let him decide whether he still wants me. But I'm afraid. Dear lord, this is too much to handle on a Saturday morning. My body falls onto the couch and my eyes.

I am transported back to last night.

Tender lips down my chest. Hands grasping me firmly in place. Breath hot against my neck.

Fuck. Get these thoughts out, now!

-------------

It's later in the afternoon and I've been on my couch all day trying to forget last night, but every single fucking time I close my eyes to maybe rest a little, I am back on that couch, across the floor, on the ground, on top of the counter, on my bed. I need to forget this, but I think I realize why it's not easy to let go of these thoughs.

It is because it was with Blaine. Try as I might to pretend it was nothing, it was something. It was with my best friend. Someone I've known for a crazy long time, so of course if we slept together, I would definitely feel something. Sort of like the kiss, you know? Weird. A very weird feeling- but whether it was a good kind of weird, I choose not to investigate that.

My headache has receded, much to my dismay because now my thoughts are in clarity. What I don't understand though is, if I was drunk, how come I can remember everything so vividly? Don't drunk people only get small fragments of their memories, everything in vague and cloudy scenes? Does it still count as a drunken mistake if you were sober? Oh god, no. I was drunk. I was definitely drunk. The alcohol took pilot of my thoughts- I want to believe that. I choose to believe that.

My phone rings and it's Gabe. Time check, it's a little past 5PM.

"Hello?" I answer cautiously.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I say again and he laughs.

"You are a ball of adorable. Anyway, I've just got done with some paper work to renew the lease for my apartment, and coincedentally, my realtor's office is right around the corner from your building. Can I come over?" he ask.

"Here?" I say.

"No, Dubai- to your six bedroom villa. Yes, there."

Do I want him to come over? What if he can tell I did something wrong? That I betrayed him? Also, I don't know if I can face him yet without spilling every single bean in my pot. I feel so guilty at what I did no amount of bombastic words can even come close to how dirty I feel about myself, but I can't do that to him- push him away because I feel guilty. If anything, if the lie is going to work at all, I have to keep him closer to me, so he won't suspect anything.

When did I become this person. Just months ago I was a single gay man in New York, trying to find means to pay off rent and student fees, now I have a boyfriend whom I cheated on with my best friend. This is so going to be in my auto biography one day.

I have to be closer to him. That is what I need to do.

"Okay," I say.

"Great, I'll be there in fifteen."

I head into the shower, washing myself again and again, yet this feeling of filth is intact onto me. This is how it feels like, doesn't it? Cheating. I wonder if Gabe felt this filthy when he cheated on my test. I emerge from the bathroom and pull out random clothes to throw on. The apartment is clean now, but I take a quick scan once again to ensure that every piece of possible evidence is gone.

The buzzer goes off and I rush to answer it.

"Hey, it's me," Gabe says.

"Buzzing you in," I tell him.

Okay- breathe, I tell myself. I can do this. I can keep this from him. I love him, and I don't want to hurt him. I can do this- to keep him. But do I deserve that? I should let him decide, right? But I'm afraid. I don't want to lose him. I don't want to lose being loved.

The knock on the door sends my nerves on hyper speed. I pull the door open and he's standing there with his eyes gleaming, his smile small and salacious, his hair slicked back. I gulp- I can do this, I can. But I feel disgusted with myself.

"Hello sexy," he says and he leans forward to kiss me.

"Hi," I say before my lips touch his. It's a brief, chaste kiss and I'm glad.

"You look good," he says.

"Oh, thanks," I say. I feel so bloody nervous and guilty when I look in his eyes. "So, new lease?"

"Yeah. I love that place."

"I've never been to your apartment before," I say, hoping a more safe topic might make me feel less like shooting my brains out.

"Do you want to come over?"

"If you want me to," I shrug.

"Of course I want you to," he frowns at me as if I'm crazy. "You wanna go there now?"

"Yes," I say quickly, because I would take any offer that would bring me out of this apartment that is full of reminders of last night.

"Okay," he smiles. "Get dressed- unless PJ pants is your outfit of the day?"

"I'll change- yeah, okay," I say and I dash to bedroom and shut the door. I don't know how I'm going to do this. I feel guilty looking into his eyes. What I did was so terrible and I remember I got so angry at Finn when he cheated on Rachel with Quinn once- now I look at myself and the very same harsh words come back.

He doesn't deserve this- but the selfishness in me is loud and I don't want to lose him. I really don't.

"Hey," he says when I emerge out of my bedroom. "Ready?"

"Yes," I say. "Gabe?"

"Yeah?" he acknowledges, looking at me with eyes of innocence. "I love you."

He smile and strides forward to me. "I love you too."

My heart sinks for the billionth time.

-------

I barely spoke to him during the cab ride. I cannot form sentences with my guilt dragging my spirits to the depths of an abyss. I don't know if Gabe noticed my rather unusual attitude today, but I hope he does not. Now, we're in a lobby, awaiting for the elevator to take us up to his place.

This counts as a step forward for our relationship, which sucks because the step backwards happened last night. My thoughts are still debating whether I should tell him. The right thing to do is to come out with the truth, but I know I will lose him because, not only did I cheat on him, I cheated on him with the one person who does not trust. Blaine. We had once made a pact to not let Blaine come between us, which to be frank I never quite took seriously considering Blaine is my best friend- how can he possibly come in between us besides being rude to Gabe, but now I know what he meant and I don't know how to stomach this.

"You okay? You look all pale," he says.

"I'm fine. Just- nervous, that's all," I say, which is not a complete lie.

"Of seeing my apartment?" he frowns.

"Yeah," I say.

"Don't worry. There aren't any giants or centaurs that'll attack you," he jokes and I let out a nervous chuckle which more sounded like I was choking on a piece of gum. I feel his frown on me and I shrink in embarrassment.

The elevator arrives with a ding and we enter. He presses on the number eighteen before we go higher up the building. His hand is firmly holding mine but all I want to do is shrug it off, crawl at a corner and remind myself how much I don't deserve this man. I feel his eyes on me but I don't want to look at them- look at him because it's only a reminder of how I betrayed him.

Finally, we arrive on the eighteenth floor and the doors slide to reveal a long corridor, with a soft red carpet covering every inch. There are seven brown doors on either side, and at the very end is the last day that stands grand and alone. Gabe strides forward, tugging me along.

"Which one is your place?" I ask.

"The one at the far end," he tells.

We halt in front of the rich brown door, with gold plastered-on numbers that ead '181'. Gabe produces a key from his back pocket before he slides in into the keyhole and turn the knob. The door reveals a comfortable looking living room, with one huge leather couch opposite a huge plasma screen TV. On the right turn, there is a sun room where there is a stalk chair, with a coffee table in front of it, with huge panel windows looking out into New York City.

"Wow," I say.

"Did I impress you?"

"Was that your intention?"

"To impress you? That is always my intention."

"You most certainly succeeded then," I say and I sense his grin.

"Come on, I'll show you around."

It does not have a second storey, though the size of it might fool you. It is huge, and elegant, and very well furnished. It somehow reminds me of Blaine's penthouse- all shiny, and luxurious. God, is everyone in New York financial well-off except for me? He takes me by my hand and we explore his apartment.

There are numerous paintings- very well, and probably priceless paintings all hung neatly on the walls. The couch is brown leather and feels genuine when I run my finger across the texture. The floor is carpeted black, which is actually a pretty unique color for carpets. He does not say anything, and I don't know if he's nervous or what. He tugs me to the sunroom, which honestly is the best part of the living room. It is seperated with a sliding glass door. It is a small little space area for relaxation, a perfect place for a good book, actually. Especially in the daytime, I can tell even though it's night time now.

"This place is amazing," I say.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," I say.

"Do you want to say the bedroom?" he says.

My insides clenches. Bedrooms can lead further, everyone bloody knows that. I don't know if I can do it- sleep with him, after what I did. It feels dirty to sleep with your boyfriend after cheating on him. I don't like this feeling at all. I feel dirty all around. Dirty, and sinful which is saying a lot because I've always been told to feel sinful because of my orientation, but I have never really. This time, I pretty sure I'm going to hell.

"Not for sex, Kurt- even though I wouldn't mind it," he whispers and I grow rigid. Did he just read my mind? If he did, then he would know the guilt. I am so on edge and dramatic right now.

"I'd love to see your bedroom," I say.

"Okay," he says and he tugs on my hand again. I follow him back into the living room and we walk towards the dining area, which is beautiful- a long, black timber table centering the room, with a gentle orang light casting above head. We turn right and a door awaits us. He opens it and flickers the light switch. His bedroom is- well, lets just put it this way- if this was a male bedroom, and I was another male bedroom, I would pretty much want to tap it's ass.

"Did you decide on the decor, or-"

"Oh, no. I wish I was that talented," he laughs. "It's actually a replica of my parent's house in Washington. The living room, at least. The bed room is just something I wanted."

"Oh, why didn't you want- you know, a fresh environment or whatever?" I ask.

"My parent's house holds some of my most fondest memories, you see. Memories I had with my mother before she passed, so I wanted to bring a part of home into my new life here because- I don't know, I wanted to feel like she's around me all the time or something. I know it's stupid-"

"No," I interrupt. "It's not stupid at all."

He smile shyly and my heart clenches. Honestly, how could I have done this to him. He's so precious, and fragile and he loves me, and I really do love him. I want to tell him the truth, he deserves it- but he does not deserve to be hurt. If I tell him, I hurt him. Should I tell him?

"Come on," he says, and he offers my hand. "As much as I want to strup to naked right here in my bedroom, I actually miss you, not just the sex part with you," he smirks and I blush- guiltily blush, that is.

We take to the couch, Gabe leaves for the kitchen to fetch us drinks and I sit on that damn amazing, and no doubt expensive couch trying my hardest to come to a decision. Tell, or don't tell. I've listed down the pros and cons, but I'm still in a maze. I don't want to keep this from him because it's going to be eating me up inside. I don't want to look into his eyes and be reminded that I've betrayed him. I want so bad for time to take me back to last night and correct my mistake, though subconscious I knew I could have. That's the part I don't understand. I am so mixed up.

I am brought out of my thoughts when a glass is handed to me. I look up and Gabe is looking at me, his eyes riddled with curiosity. I try to feign nonchalance and take the glass from him. He drops next to me and takes the remote of the television from the coffee table.

"We're watching TV?" I frown.

"Did you want to make out?" he ask with a salacious gleam.

The last thing I want to do is kiss him- not because I don't want to, but because I can't when I am with full knowledge that I kissed someone else behind his back. "TV then," I shrug.

He swtiches it on and a reality drama airs. I am not really paying attention because once again I am alone with my thoughts, my confusion really. I debate that dreadful decision in my head again- tell, or not to tell. I am a firm believer that the truth will set you free, right? But in this case, the truth will chase away the first person who has claimed his love for me. I am also a firm believer that the truth, no matter how hidden, will also find it's way out. I know the repercussions, I know the risk if I tell him, but if I don't, and it gets out somehow, he will for sure leave me. Maybe, in some universe somewhere, he will forgive me- afterall, it was a drunken mistake, something that didn't mean anything, right? Like Blaine said? I should tell him.

"Gabe," I say in complete fear. "I- urm, I have to tell you something," I start.

"Can I go first?"

"Oh- yeah, sure," I say. Thank god. At least it will buy me some time to work up my courage.

He switches the television off, sets his cup to rest, and turns to me. "Kurt," he sighs. "I know things between us have been rocky since I made that stupid mistake with your test and basically jeopardize your entire future. I know I acted as if I didn't care that night you had to pick a song for your performance, but the truth is I do care. I care- about you because I love you..so, so much. I've never felt this way about anyone, and maybe I am overreacting, but it's only because I am afraid I'm going to lose you because- because sometimes you seem too good to be true. My life- I've undergone a lot of shit and when I lost my mother, I thought I could never find happiness, and then I found you. Kurt, you brought me something I thought was long gone in my life. Sometimes I think you don't understand just how much you mean to me- and that's okay, because I'm telling this to you now. You mean a lot to me, and I'm sorry things have been rough between us, but I just want this behind us, because I love you, and I don't want to lose you."

The way he just professed that to me- he was so sure of himself, and my heart is a paper flutter. I don't know how to comprehend this, and if anything it only expanded my guilty heart. But I realize it then. This man loves me- beyond sanity. I have never felt this desired, and love before from somehow whom I equally love. It comes to me then. I can't lose him- because, I just can't. I won't ever find anyone who will love me the way Gabe does, and maybe it is a selfish act, but I just don't care right now, because I've concluded my decision. Telling means risking losing him, and that is a risk I'm just not willing to take.

"I love you too," I say, earnestly, genuinely, because it's true. I lean forward and kiss him with all my might, bearing my soul out to this man because I will never find this ever again if I lose him. I will never find, what I have never told anyone I was looking for, which is love.

I will never find love again if I lose him, and for that, I choose to keep this mistake because it didn't mean anything, and it will never mean anything.

--------

Weeks past, and I am in a bliss. I've completely put that drunken mistake and all it's recollections behind me, because it really was a mistake. It was something meaningless, and it happened in the spur of the moment. I still feel the guilt, but I suppress it with my magnitude of love for Gabe instead, because that is the reason I chose to keep that secret, for love.

I've also haven't spoken to Blaine since that night. I am trying to distant myself from him to the best of my ability. Seeing him might remind me of the horrible, horrible person that I am. Also, distancing myself from him means getting far closer with Gabe, which is good because he is love. He is my love, and that night with Blaine meant nothing.

He hasn't tried to call me either though.

It's Friday, April twenty sixth today, and I am in NYADA. School has been great too. I've tuned out everything anyone has to say about me because I am left with approximately a month before I graduate. It's been hectic going around finishing up final year performances and term tests. Dance term finals is the mega bitch of them all, though most of that is because of Cassandra July. Despite the stress, I feel content because it's coming. Graduation is coming, and when we graduate from NYADA, our names will be submitted to every single Broadway show production company and we will be short-listed for probable upcoming shows. I am thrilled.

My phone rings as I leave NYADA that afternoon. It's Gabe, and I smile.

"Hey babe," he hums when I answer.

"Hey babe," I say in respond.

"School end yet?" he ask.

"Yes. I'm making my way home right now. Will I be seeing you there, or?"

"Can you make your way here on your own? I have to make sure everything will run smoothly for this event, but I will make sure I get to sneak away to see you."

"Okay," I say.

Gabe's company event is happening tonight- The Dance Class. It's suppose to be this huge, black tie event- a night of artistry genius, as Gabe puts it. I am pretty excited to be attending because, for one I am not a plus one. I am actually invited to this one, because Gabe is the organizer and I am his boyfriend, so he invited me. Also, I am pretty excited because I always swoon when I listen to Gave ramble on about ballet art.

"Can't wait to see you looking all hot and sexy in a tux," he says and I feel it go down my crotch.

"I will do my best," I say.

"I have to get back. The dancers are coming in for a last rehearsal. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay babe," I say before I hang up.

I am almost to my building, mentally putting together a slick, sophisticated outfit that I hope will have Gabe drooling and tempted to rip it off me in front of the entire Upper East Side's elites when I halt just a few yards away from my door. There is a girl sitting on the steps outside my building. She has long brown locks, sad brown eyes. Her knees are curled into her chest- and there are a lot of luggages sitting next to her. She sees me, my brows shoot up when I see her as well. She dashes to me and attacks me with a death hug, but then I hear her sobs, and feel her tears drenching my shirt.

"Rachel? What's wrong?" I ask, but she sobs harder, so I hold her in my embrace and allow her to cry.

------------

I basically had to carry Rachel up the flight of stairs, which was draining, and then run back down to grab all her luggages. She is on my couch now, still sobbing to herself. I placed a cup of tea in front of her twenty minutes ago, but she hasn't acknowledged it once, which means something is really wrong. I have been waiting for her to dry out of tears for almost half an hour, but she's still sobbing. Finally, I decide I should intervene.

"Rachel," I comfort, rubbing calmly on her back. "What's wrong?"

She sobs in response.

"Rachel, please tell me what's wrong."

I hear her sobs gradually start to gap. She pushes her hair out of her face and begins to take steady breaths- something I've learned from Rachel, actually. It really works when you're trying to stable yourself from- well, yourself. Her eyes wander somewhere far off, as if she's embarassed to look at me. I await for her to speak.

"Finn and I," he says. "We broke up."

I almost want to roll my eyes. As if this has never happened before. To be honest, I had jumped to a conclusion where one of her dads, or Barbara Streisand even, had died. Typical Rachel Berry problems, like I said.

"What happened?"

"It's bad," she says. "I think it's one of the worst fights we've ever gotten into."

"What happened, Rachel?" I press on.

She sighs and takes even breaths before she explains it to me. "Finn and I haven't been happy together for a long time," she starts. "I mean, when we first moved to LA, we were, but after a year or so, we just- we grew sour towards each other. We were living off his teacher's salary, Kurt, which is really bad especially living in LA. I went for a lot of auditions but I didn't get to secure one. Nothing. In LA, they're very superficial and girls like me just don't make the cut. It's felt kinda like-"

"High school?" I prompt.

"High school, yes. Being the reject," she sighs. "So then, we've been pretty rocky for awhile now, and then things got worse when I came here a few weeks ago, remember? When I was here- I don't know, it sort of reminded me how much I love this city, and my actual passion. When I stepped into NYADA and those students swamped me- it reminded me how much potential I have to be the big broadway star I've always wanted to be. I haven't been in New York since I left, and when I came back- I just, I knew that this is where I'm suppose to be. This city."

Her face is ashen with both liberation, and also sorrow. Rachel is a dramatic queen, yes, but when she gets sad you can't help but to feel sad with her than for her.

"When we got back to LA, I got word that Bernie and Rice didn't get picked up, and I took that as a sign. I wasn't destined for California. I was made for New York. I couldn't spend another minute there. I just couldn't, Kurt, but I kept telling myself it was for Finn. I'm putting up with this because I love him, but I don't want to live in suffering anymore distancing myself from my dreams. So I told Finn. I told him that I couldn't live in LA, and that I was miserable here. I told him I wanted to be back in New York, where I'm suppose to be. I told him to choose- between his career and me, and-"

"He chose his career?" I say in disbelief.

"He said that it wasn't fair that I get to live my dreams but he has to settle for less."

"But isn't that what you've been doing for him, before all these revelations came about New York?"

"I know," she sighs.

"That's really unfair for him to say. And I hate how he chose his career over you," I say, though fairly aware I had a similar situation with Gabe, but he came around eventually.

"Maybe he'll come to his senses?"

"I doubt it," she says. "He told me that I should get the hell out if that's really what I wanted, so I did."

Finn sounds like an idiot. Rachel is the best thing that has ever happened to him, and I hate how he chose his job over Rachel, whom he proclaimed to be his one true love. It disgusts me, really. When you're in love, you should be willing to drop everything for just that one person.

"So what happens now?" I ask.

"Can I stay here? For just a bit?"

"Rachel, this apartment has always been ours," I smile at her, and a tear falls from her eyes. I pull her into a hug and she sobs into my shoulder.

"I don't even know what I'm going to do here. It's not like I'm going to land a role the second I reach New York-"

"Yes, but when word gets out that the Rachel Berry is back in New York, everyone will be lining up to get her. For now, I suggest you take some time and readjust yourself in New York," I tell. "How about- starting with a revamp ballet gala?"

"What?" she frowns.

"Gabe. He's having a relaunch party or whatever down at his ballet gallery. It's suppose to be this really sophisticated black tie event, and he invited me, so because I have a plus one, I'm takin you with me."

"No, it's okay-"

"Are you kidding me? It's the perfect thing to do after getting dumped and coming back to New York. You wanna talk readjusting? Start with a New York gala."

"I'm not in a partying mood-"

"Then come just to get out and have some fun. Maybe it'll get your mind off Finn."

"I don't know, Kurt-"

"Please?" I say, toning my best pleading voice. "You'll can wear a pretty dress."

"Fine," laughs.

"Great! Go get ready in your old room that I left just as it was when you left."

"Thank you," she says and she pulls me into a hug. I now she's hurt and part of her still wants to go back to Finn because I know how much she loves him, but she has to be in New York. She really was made for the city.

"It's going to be okay, Rachel," I tell her.

"I hope so," she sighs.

--------

There really is nothing like a Friday night in New York. Everyone resigns from a stressful week of work to simply kick back and get wasted because they've been tortured from tempting alcoholic beverages all week long but cannot really indulge because they have to be up bright and early in the morning. Tonight- not the same.

Rachel and I alight from our cab that takes us down to Gabe's ballet gallery down at Madison's. The vibe is uplifting and the lights are bright. Camera flashes are everywhere, no doubt this event will be on the front page of the New York Times tomorrow. Sometimes I underestimate just how significant social events like these are.

Town cars after town cars are pulling up, with elites dressed in their best alighting. I feel intimidated in my Paul Jobskins shirt- the one Blaine bought for me- with a slight back tux. Rachel is looking fine, if I might say so myself, in a white tight fitted gown with a black clutch.

I show the bouncer my invite and he allows us through.

The place is already packed with ostentatious looking people, holding wine glasses. On the ground level, there are rows of seats facing a large platform, with silver drawings falling on the sides. The whole room is cast in a light, pink glow. Rachel and I walk up to the open bar- yes, there is one.

"Hi, white wine for me, and-"

"Scotch," Rachel tells and I shoot a stunned glance at her. "You said to have fun!"

"Fine, but I'm not holding your hair up when you inevitably throw up later. We all know your most hardcore choice of beverage are wine coolers."

"This is Rachel two point O."

"Really?" I snicker.

"Don't laugh. It's true. I realized when we were making our way here that this is really am I'm suppose to be. The old Rachel put her dreams before anyone else."

"So then this is technically just an enhanced version of high school Rachel, right?"

"Basically," she shrugs. "Where is Gabe?"

"Backstage, probably. I'll see him later."

"This place is amazing though. What is a ballet gallery even about?" Rachel ask.

"Basically it holds artefacts anything pertaining to ballet art. A lot of dance school's take excursions here. It's pretty great, actually. There is an informative history room where it tells you the history of ballet- where it started and all that. There is the first made ballet shoes- what?" I ask, because Rachel is grinning at me.

"You really do love him if you can remember everything that is on his job description," she says.

"Shut up."

A music starts playing and I know that is the cue to take our seats for the performance. I haven't seen Gabe anywhere, but I know he's just doing his job backstage. Rachel and I find the seats closest to the stage because it's our nature to be very close, if not on, a stage.

"Hey," Rachel says. "Isn't that Blaine?"

My heart clenches in my chest. My stomach does a 360 turn at the mere mention of his name. I haven't seen him for like three weeks. "Where?"

"There- over there," she says, pointing at the far left, in the third row. It is him, and my body suddenly feels all weird. He hasn't met eye contact with us- or me, but by his mere physical presence my body suddenly feels like it did that night- that very drunken night, I think.

"Yeah, it is," I manage to croak out to Rachel.

"Oh my god, come on. He doesn't know I'm back in New York yet-"

"No!" I say, tugging her backwards.

"What- why?"

"Nothing- it's just- show's about to begin," I say and I pull her into the seat next to me.

I feel her curious frown on me but I stare up ahead, to the stage, my heart pounding all of a sudden. I haven't seen him in three weeks and I just know a wave of awkwardness if going to wash over us when we talk later. And Gabe is here too. My boyfriend, and my bestfriend, also known as the guy I slept with, is in the same damn building.

Why is there no oxygen in this place!

----------

"That was beautiful," Rachel says, wiping her tears when the performance came to an end.

"Yeah," I say, though I wasn't really paying attention. I was too busy feeling like my head was about to explode from the worries of seeing Blaine.

"Come on," she says.

"What- where?"

"The second level, they literally just announced that there will be food and drinks served upstairs. What's up with your hearing?"

"Sorry," I say, though her frown is still on me.

We depart from our seats and slowly make our way up the spiral staircase. My stomach feels so heavy that I don't think I can stomach anything. To be honest, I really just want to run back home. I don't know what's going to happen when I see Blaine- but then I remind myself to forget that night happened. Yes, forget. Blaine and I should be fine. That night did not happen in my book of memories.

"Here's to my return," Rachel says when we arrive on the second level, and she grabs two glasses of wine.

"You're a drinker tonight," I say.

"Sure am," she says. She basically throws the drink down her throat, only to grab another one in mere seconds. "Oh, we should find Blaine!"

"Later," I say.

"Why? Don't you want to see him?" she frowns at me suspicious.

"I do- but I'm hungry first so lets eat," I say.

"Did something happen between you two? You usually would jump at the chance of seeing Blaine."

"No. Nothing-"

"Hey babe," a familiar voice whispers into my ear. I turn and Gabe is looming over me, with his hair sexily slicked back though I want to ruffle it out so bad.

"Hi," I squeak shyly and he leans forward to catch my lips. I melt in his kiss- like how I always do.

"Rachel? Hey," Gabe greets pleasantly, enveloping Rachel in a tight, gentle squeeze.

"I'm back in New York," she tells. "Living with Kurt."

"Really? That's great. I'm sure most Broadway directors would be psyched that the Rachel Berry has return to her calling."

"Stop it," Rachel blushes.

"It's true," Gabe smiles. "How are you doing?" he ask me.

"Great," I say.

"Did you guys enjoy the show?"

"Oh my god, I did. It was amazing. Ballet is like one of the most timeless arts ever. I remember when I was a kid and I took ballet lessons. That was the start to my dreams now. It was amazing, truly," she says.

"Yeah, it was good," I say a little too briefly.

"Oh, there's Blaine! Blaine!" Rachel basically yells across the room, and Blaine turns- his eyes immediately locks with mine.

My heart basically does a flip as well. His brown eyes burn into mine and just as quickly, I am back in my bedroom on that drunken night. His eyes alight with a certain fire, a gleam aren't like other. His hands on my neck, on my thighs- everywhere. His lips tenderly caressing mine. I blush under the pink glow of the room. I almost lose my will to stand when he strides on over to us.

"Why is he here?" I ask Gabe quietly, and he frowns at me.

"Anderson's Banking Co is one of our investors. Didn't I tell you that?"

"No, you didn't. Neither did he," I say.

"Hi," Rachel exclaims happily and he pulls Blaine into a hug.

"What are you doing in town?" he ask.

"I actually moved back here," she says.

"You did? Why? Did you finally realize orange skin tone doesn't go with you?"

"No, actually. I just- decided to. You don't sound happy to see me!" Rachel pouts. She's drunk.

"Oh, I'm sorry. If I had known I would be more hostile," Blaine jokes. "I'm glad you're back."

"Blaine, it's nice of you to be here," Gabe says, extending his hand to Blaine. I gulp.

"Ah- blame my mother," he says. "Good show though."

"Thank you," Gabe says politely.

"Kurt- hey," he says and all I want to do is crawl in a cave. He leans forward to hug me, but I extend my hand to him. I realize that is stupid considering everyone knows how close Blaine and I are, so I leane forward to hug him too, but he extends his hand this time- awkward. Yup.

Rachel is frowning at me.

"Hey, how you've been?" I ask, casually. Yes, casual questions seem less frightening.

"Oh, you know- okay," he shrugs and an awkard silence follows us.

"So urm- Kurt, can I steal you away to introduce my boyfriend to some people?"

"Yes, sure," I say quickly, completely oblivious that Blaine's head has fallen.

I am whisked away, telling Rachel to give me a few minutes and am soon surrounded by high end, snobby looking people I hate. They are talking about the show but I am lost in my thoughts. I have never felt that awkward with my best friend before, then again I've never felt post sex awkwardness with him either.

Did he have the same feel? I didn't realize. He did try to go for a hug, does that mean he didn't feel awkward with me? Am I the only one feeling this? I told myself to forget that night, and forgetting means not feeling awkward- so why in the world did I feel that way? I hate this. I wish that night never fucking happened.

I feel guilty all of a sudden, next to Gabe- my boyfriend. I had thoughts about sex with another man when I was right next to him. God, it feels so disgusting feeling this way. I feel like such a bloody cheater it sucks. I haven't had thoughts about that night for a few weeks now because I told myself to forget, and I lost myself in the person that is actually my boyfriend, but the second his eyes meet mine, those events immediately came flooding back as if no time had passed.

My head feels like it's about to explode again.

"You okay?" Gabe ask me, his eyes riddle with concern.

"Fine- I just need some air," I say, and I let his hand go. I snake my way through the crowd, basically jump down the staircase and out the door I am.

The air feels good. Cold, distracting me for awhile. I breathe heavily, gulping down huge chunks of oxygen trying to stable my mind, my airways, my stomach, my heart rate. Everything basically. I feel like I'm about to fall into cardiac arrest or something. I feel like how I felt after I slept with Blaine- but this time I did not sleep with him to feel this way. Why did simply being around him make me feel like I'm cheating again?

"I should get you more Paul Jobskins if you love their clothes so much."

Blaine is standing there, next to the door, his head tilted in a small smile, a cigarette in his hand.

"Oh, hi," I say.

"That's didn't sound awkward at all," he says.

I feel exposed standing in front of him- my best friend. He has seen me, touched me, penetrated me and all. Of course it would feel awkward, I tell myself. Yes, that's the reason I feel awkward. It's because he has seen me- in all my glory.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Been fine," he says casually. "You?"

"Same," I say. "How's your dad?"

"Great, you know- being cancer free and all."

"I'm glad he's cured."

"That was the exact last thing you said to me," he smiles.

"I'm sorry we haven't been talking."

"Me too," he says. "How has NYADA been?"

"Okay- hectic, really."

"You're graduating soon, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I say. God, it feels so fucking awkward.

"Look," he sighs and he steps on his cigarette with the tip of his leather shoes. "We need some form of closure here if you want to forget what happened."

"Don't you want to forget it?" I ask.

"You obviously want to."

"Yeah, I do," I say a little heatedly. "Because I have a boyfriend, and you're my bestfriend. It's better to forget it."

I don't understand that look that has fallen on his face. "Yeah, you're right," he finally says.

"I know," I say.

"So, have you forgotten about it?" he ask me.

"Wh- what?" I say, a little flabbergasted.

"Have you forgotten about it?" he repeats.

"Yes," I lie, because I haven't. Just by looking at him is testament that I haven't fully push those thoughts out.

"Good for you," he smiles at me.

"Blaine," I sigh. "I don't want things to be awkward between us. I hate this.You're my best friend. And I miss you."

"I know," he sighs too. "I've missed you too- more than you realize, actually."

"What happened really was a drunken mistake, and you know that."

"It was something, yeah," Blaine shrugs.

"What does that mean?" I frown at him.

The door burst open then and Gabe appears. I shrink in guilt at the sight of him- though guilty of what, I do not understand. Blaine turns away, looking far down the street. Does he feel guilty too then?"

"Hey," Gabe says, his eyes flashing from me, to Blaine.

"Hi," I say innocently. "I'm sorry I left abruptly."

"Ah, it's fine. Hey Blaine," he says.

"Sup Gabester," Blaine turns and greets.

"So, I gave my assistant everything that needs to be done when the event ends, and Rachel said it's fine if I left with you, so do you wanna go?"

"Yes," I say a little hastily, but all I want to do is get out of here.

"Okay," Gabe smiles. "You don't mind if I take Kurt away, do you?" he ask Blaine.

"Well, he is your boyfriend."

"Okay, well goodnight. And thank you for coming. Thank your mother too."

"I wouldn't have been here if she hadn't forced me too," Blaine laughs.

"I know that much. You're not really an artistic type if you know what I mean. Well, goodnight," Gabe smiles.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine says and his eyes pierce into mine

Brown, warm, comforting eyes. It takes me back to that mistake, and my guilt almost consumes me. Those lips, those hands, those eyes all worshipping me. I hate how I remember how his touched felt. I shouldn't feel like that about my bestfriend- then again, I shouldn't have slept with him either. But it was a mistake. A drunken one.

"Bye," I say and I am whisked away.

"Everything okay?" Gabe ask.

"Fine," I say, though much like the following day of that night, my guilt is mountanious.

-----------

"Especially when the girl did a split in the air. Genius," Gabe says when we arrive in his apartment.

He has been rambling on about that performance, and to be perfectly honest, I couldn't give a single flying crap about it even if I wanted to. I usually love it when he talks passionately about ballet, but tonight- I'm just out of it, especially that encounter with Blaine after three weeks of separation.

"I'm happy you came," he says.

"Me too," I smile.

He takes his jacket off and hangs it on the coat rack before striding to the couch and sighing as he sinks into it. I can't look at him, not with feeling this magnificently guilty. Why though? I thought I had put the events of the drunken night- I am going to label that that now- behind me, so why am I still feeling guilty about it when I've devoted every hour of three weeks with Gabe? I am madly in love with him, that I know, but I can't shake the feeling that the drunken night was something more.

"Are you okay?" he ask.

"Of course. Why?"

"I don't know. You seem out of it tonight, especially after seeing Blaine. Are you and him okay?" Gabe ask and I feel my insides clench.

"Yeah, we're fine. We've just haven't been talking lately."

"Why?" Gabe ask.

"Just- is, I guess. He's busy, I'm busy. That's all," I try to feign nonchalance.

"You guys just looked really awkward-"

"I know that," I say. "But, like I said- we just haven't talked or seen each for awhile, that's why it was a little awkward."

"Oh, okay."

If there was something else to compare just how nervous I feel right now, it's trying to hide the crime of blowing up a fucking building. I turn away from Gabe and try to breathe- try to forget, try to remind myself that it was meaningless, it was nothing, it was a mistake. Yes, better. I feel better. I stroll to the couch and sit next to Blaine, whom wrap his arm over and shoulder and pulls me forward until we are inches across.

"You look mighty fine tonight," he breathes.

"You don't look too bad yourself."

"That shirt looks so fucking good on you," he says.

"Thanks," I blush, because it's from Blaine and it feels sick that Gabe said I look good in something the guy I cheated on him with bought for me.

"You would look better without it though," he whispers salaciously and I blush. Before I can comprehend myself, his lips are on mine and I lose myself.

His lips feel good on mine, his hips gently pushing against mine- his erection through his pants feels sensational pressed against my own. I feel his fingers fumbling with my top button, and pushing my jacket off my shoulders. I lift myself slightly so he can pull it off.

He rises and looms over me like the God he looks like. His legs are straddling my hips, his fingers sexily undos his first button. His eyes burn green and all I want is for this man to enter me- take me away, and make me forget. He tugs his shirt over his head, then my eyes widened.

It's not him. It's not the eyes that were looking at me just seconds ago. They are brown. Warm, brown, hazel eyes. His hair is dark, curly, unruly, though slightly tamed with the help of gel. His browns in a triangular fashion. He has a slight smirk on his lips, though it's not the one my boyfriend wears. It's one I recognize all too well as my best friend's. He tilts his head, his eyes curious and brown at me.

"What's wrong?" he says in a gentle melody.

I blink- hard, and fast, then the person upon me morphs back to one I am suppose to be sleeping with. He is frowning curiously, looking at me trying to gauge what's wrong.

"You okay?" he ask.

"Fine, sorry," I say quickly.

He falls forward and kisses me, but my mind has drifted away into deep thoughts. What the hell just happened? I just saw my best friend about to have sex with me. I have had sex with Gabe after that drunken night, but never has my mind seen Blaine's face instead of Gabe. I should have forgotten, but seeing him tonight made me remember everything. Why though? It was a drunken mistake. Drunken- I should not remember anything that vividly, right? And if it was meaningless, not holding anything remotely profound, then why the hell can't I forget about it?