Disclaimer: I do not own any characters depicted or facetime. This is a work of fan fiction.

Spoilers: recent season four and past seasons episodes

Triggers: suicidal thoughts/talk

"talking"

thinking

"singing"

"past dialogue"

Enjoy!

"Thanks so much, Rachael!" Blaine said with a smile in his usual excited voice, even if he was speaking softly because he was in the library; at least from what the young woman could tell from the small screen of her phone. "I realize how busy you and Kurt are with classes, but I need emergency advice from both of you."

"No trouble, Double B." She smiled back at the boy. "I was just about to leave for home and I know where Kurt is, anyways." Rachael laughed,He's always practicing dancing because he thinks he needs to be better than both of us."Besides that's what facetime is for. Speaking of which—"

As the young woman dodged the on-coming traffic of bodies (the students may love NYADA but it was still a school, no one wanted to stay longer than necessary), she rattled off a bit about her classes of the day. Not really caring that Blaine had not asked her in the first place, but he listened on amicably (but that's why she liked Blaine, he would listen to her ramble on until Kurt or Finn would usually save him-but really they were saving her voice from being worn out from talking, because they cared about her so much).

"—and she almost tripped! That would have..." the young starlet blinked then shook her head, "I have forgotten myself." Rachael then laughed; the actual notion of her literally forgetting herself was too preposterous; her brown eyes, alight with laugher, turned back to the image of Blaine. "Anyways, what is the emergency, Double B?"

The young man also let out a laugh, but more at her persistence to call him 'Double B'. That's why he stopped letting Rachael watch TV with him and Kurt (back before they moved to New York... back when they were dating), you let her see show that has a name she gets attached to... and she will turn it into a nick-name for someone. "Well," Blaine started, shifting in his seat. "Finn and Artie found Mrs. Pillsbury, and all the ND's are gathering song ideas for Mr. Shue to sing to her."

"Oh!" Her streaked hair bounced as she put a sudden skip into her step, "How exciting! Good thing she was found. You know that you must pick the perfect song! We're closing in on the dance studio now!" She let out a squeal that had the dark-haired young man reaching to cover his phone speaker. "Oh! Oh! Kurt and I will definitely come up—Oh! Here he is!"

Blaine's screen suddenly lit up blindingly white, causing him to turn and blink the spots out of his eyes. But when he heard Kurt's laugh (the forced one he uses when he's a little uncomfortable) he turns back quickly. Rachael's camera had adjusted to the new lighting, showing the darkened silhouettes of two people... both male (but there was a good deal of distance between them both and they stood like they were uncomfortable).

Kurt stood out clearly. Blaine swears that if there was a crowd of Kurt-look-a-likes, he would still be able to pick out which one was his Kurt; he was just that honed into the other young man. It was beyond what anyone can ever explain. Just believe, because it was true.

He must have zoned out, because there was suddenly someone talking. Blaine had to lean in to pick up what the quiet voice was saying.

"—uh..." Oh, wow. This guy had an accent. "I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest." Shit, this guy was British. "You and Blaine used to sing that duet together, didn't you?"

This guy... was talking to Kurt.What duet?

"Yeah." That was Kurt.What duet?"But it feels like a lifetime ago." Oh... ouch. That hurt. "Maybe that's what's hard about it."

Blaine straightened up and brought his phone up with him.He's still hurting... but the way he said that. Does he still want to be together? Does he still want me?

Maybe he was getting a little too hopeful...

"You still love him, don't you?" Oh. Dear. God.I don't know if I want to hear a 'yes' or 'no'."Was I your rebound?"

Rebound.Wow, did that bounce around in his head for a while before hitting him in the heart.

"No. No." Rachael's phone moved to a point that Blaine got a glimpse of Kurt's face. He looked unconvinced himself, like saying the words would suddenly make them true.

Okay, Blaine was definitely getting too hopeful.

"'Cause I can't compete with a fantasy, Kurt." Damn. He had to give it to the guy... Kurt's name sounded lickable said in that accent.

Maybe this is the duet they were talking about? Are you dreaming about me, Kurt?

"I desperately want to be over him. Really, I do." Again. Ouch. But—

Blaine feels like there is a 'but' there, and leans so close to the screen he is nearly cross-eyed.

"Good."

No! Shut up! Kurt was going to say something more! He was!Kurt, keep talking!

"Then let's go to the movies right now."

Blaine sucked in a breath, and his eyes began to sting, and his throat began to swell, and his stomach began to knot.He's not saying anything.Hazel eyes blinked rapidly from the building tears and the screen distance. He was not going to move his phone away, not until this finished. Not until he knew—for sure—what Kurt thought. What he wanted.

"Oh, I'm serious. We are going to go and find the sappiest love story that we can, and then that—"

Oh. Dear. God in heaven. This guy, this British-accented-talks-too-much-would-not-let-Kurt-finish-speaking-guy (Blaine always let Kurt finish what he was saying, he knew when he had more or nothing to say; it came with the package of being Kurt's boyfriend... at least when he had been, but even now he knew Kurt was -not- finished talking), took Kurt's hand into his.That's supposed to be my hand to hold...

"—will be our movie."

His phone screen became blurry... No. His whole world was blurry. It was the tears, but it was the pain too. Never thought he would ever know so much pain. It was the hot wetness of one tear that brought him back from the—he gasped—the hole he was falling into.

"Desperate for changing, starving for truth..."

I thought we were good. It was slow going but we were working ourselves back to each other... Kurt and me, we're supposed to be endgame!

"I'm closer to where I started, I'm chasing after you."

Kurt doesn't want me. He does, but he doesn't. Maybe—he would never let himself. Ever again.

Ugh! Why was he still signed into facetime?!

In his haste, Blaine almost turned off his phone and practically threw it into his bag. He bit his lip as he looked around helplessly. He was still at school, in the library! He could not cry here. He just could not.

But as he tried to collect himself, his gasped breaths and choked sobs were drawing attention to him.

No. He needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere he could be alone. "I'm falling even more in love with you."Somewhere only he... knew.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

It hurt so much!

"Letting go of all I've held on to."

He needed to go home. Home was good enough for now.

No one was home.

Not like he expected someone to be. It was just a little after noon, his parents were still at work and Cooper did not get in from his flight until after dinner. Blaine had the house to himself; which he needed. Because he was going to scream. Scream and cry, and throw things, and punch stuff.

Kurt was not his anymore. No matter how much he wanted him to be, Kurt had this new guy. How in all honesty (why did he have to be honest, why did hehaveto be dapper) was—"Perfect."

Kurt had wants, had appeals that he liked about certain types of men. Tall. Accented. Built.

The curly haired man had never held it against Kurt that none of those attributes were Blaine, because Kurt was withhim. Lovedhim.

So here he was, standing just inside his room with the door closed—staring at the full-length mirror his... ex had made him put there.

"It never hurt anyone to do a double-check."He'd always said.

Oh, how wrong he was.

"I'm standing here until you make me move, I'm hanging on a moment here with you."

Blaine tilted his head, sharing a confused look with...thisimage. Who was this person? Why did he think Kurt would ever be his again? What right did he have? How is it that Blaine let this person destroy his Kurt? Destroy what they had? Killing everything? Was this really him? He did this?

He did.

With his feelings, with his hurt, with his selfishness... with his body.

With his disgusting body.

No wonder Kurt is with that guy. He's everything I'm not.He watched as two hands rose to run through gelled-down curls. That guy did not have curls.I bet he's blond, with light colored eyes. Green or blue. They'll never amount up to Kurt's, but they aren't hazel. Not burnt caramel or rotting honey.

He wanted to pull out his hair. Every strand. Every last damn curl."Forgetting all I'm lacking—"Kurt loved his curls. What right did you have keeping them when he knew the blue-eyed boy hated him?

"—completely incomplete."

Hated him so much that he was not even sure if it was hate at all. That had to be why he was letting Blaine back in. Why Kurt was even talking to him anymore, he was not trying to forgive him... he saw this broken, disgustingthingand felt sorry.

"I'll take your invitation—"

Suddenly he was inthathotel, smoothing the shoulders of Kurt's suit jacket. He had never responded to Blaine when he said they were getting back together, that they were not nothing. He had naïvely thought at the time it was a step forward. But no, Kurt beat him to the two steps back. Blaine had thought after he and Kurt talked to Tina that his ex had done it to hurt him, take something from him and leave it at the door."—you take all of me now."It was clear now though.

It was nothing but pity.

But Kurt wouldn't do that... He loves me.

No, hates. He hates him. Those beautiful blue-eyes only look at him to see a blemish, and Kurt feels sorry for this shell that he has made himself into. Sorry for the man he once loved.

Why did everything seem so clear, but felt so confusing?

"I'm falling even more in love with you."

Blaine's face scrunched up and his lips pulled back from his teeth, "Stop looking at me!" His fist shot out before he had even realized he released his hair. The mirror cracked from the impact, circling fragments surrounding his bare knuckles, working their way out in a branching reach. It looked like a target...

And he felt the image looking back resembled how broken he was inside. "Letting go of all I've held on to.Except you."

Turning to the shelves behind him, Blaine felt a surge of power, of release.

He ignored (tried to) the snow-globe (he and Kurt had bought it together last year at Christmas when they went to the ice-sculpture exhibit at some fancy hotel, he could not remember the name... probably because they got a room) and moved on to his Disney collector's plates.

His knuckles hurt, but he only realized that they were not bleeding when he glanced at them as he picked up the first two plates.

"I'm standing here—"He simply dropped the first one,"until you make me move."Not caring if he got cut up by the flying pieces, the hurt on the outside could just match that of his inside. He threw the next one down.

Strangely satisfied, in the echo of one shattering plate after another,"I'm hanging by a moment here with you."He threw two more... before it was not enough.

So he swept his arm across the shelf, taking everything but the snow-globe down.

Some more plates broke, while others just bounced and rolled away. A picture frame lay among the mess, cracked from corner to corner. Cutting across the image of his face and completely missing Kurt's. "I'm living for the only thing I know.Or care about.

"My leg could be cut, Kurt. And I simply don't care. Because all I care about is you."

His cell phone goes off. He's got a text message. Probably from Sam. Asking where he was.

Blaine ignored it. If it was not Kurt, he was not going to even bother... not right now; since he already knew it is not him.

"I'm running and not quite sure where to go."

His eyes snapped up, locking in on his bed. His bed where they had laid had made love. They were the same sheets, obviously washed a many a time over, but Kurt and he had been in those sheets when they had given each other the most wonderful gift... the most treasured of all he had received from his Kurt.

He tore them from the bed.

He would have ripped them apart had he not seen the stuffed dog yanked out from underneath his pillow.

"I'm lost, Kurt. I hurt so much and I'm lost." Fresh tears slipped from his eyes, "And I don't know what I'm diving into."He pulled up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the moisture away from his cheeks; yanking it all the way off, when he realized what he had been doing. Not just with his tears but with his rage.

So Blaine began twisting his shirt. Twisting and twisting until he was satisfied with the tightly wadded fabric between his fists."Just hanging by a moment here with you!"He was waiting for Kurt, waiting for him to find him and help him, save him. But his soul-mate was not there. He would never be there again. Because he was with... someone else.

The scream felt like a tidal wave, ripping over him; he screamed until he was doubled over. Screamed until the physical pain from his vocal cords and his body, from the lack of oxygen, matched his emotional pain. All of Blaine's frustrations with himself, with the boy cheated with, with his family, with his friends, with Kurt; he let every last hurt out until he was brought to his knees, and his breath just sobs.

"There's nothing else to lose."

Because I already lost you.

Kurt looked gorgeous. He always had a knack for fashion that never seemed to stop astounding Blaine. There he stood, in a grey-wool vest with the blackbird broach Blaine had given to him for their anniversary, black skinny (tight, so tight) jeans, and his knee high boots matching his bright teal dress shirt. He was looking so cool and collected as Rachael blabbed about something or another. Then blue-eyes turned towards his... coyly.

Wow. Unscheduled make-out session, just like that.

He smirked back at his boyfriend and gave a nod.

They were late for fifth period, and Blaine had lost his bowtie.

He found it in the Navigator's back-seat later, which caused them to be late for glee club.

Kurt misplaced his tie.

(But really, Blaine did that—but not really, because it was just flung across the steering wheel. Kurt gets onto Blaine about being mindful of his clothes, "They're expensive, B!" So the curly haired boy is mindful of his boyfriends clothes... as he proceeds to remove them right then. Because really, Kurt is sexy when he is angry.)

"There's nothing else to find."

Somehow, he had managed to walk himself into the bathroom, closing his eyes as he passed the mirror (he did not trust himself to not punch it) and went straight for the shower stall. Blaine ran the hot water until the whole room was filled with steam, until every shiny surface in the bathroom was too covered with moisture for him to see his reflection.

With each clothing item he removed, he let down shield after shield."There's nothing in the world—"When he was alone, there was no point in trying to protect himself from being seen. He was broken, and glue was not going to fix him; just like clothes would not protect him for much longer."That can change my mind.—

"There is nothing else...because everything left with you."

But even when he was alone, he felt the need to hide his tears. Hide this part of himself because he was still so ashamed of what he did, of why he did it.

Just one more reason to run the shower as hot as possible, let the water run hotter across his skin than his tears were; it did not matter how much it burned, how it was too hot. It felt better than liquid acknowledgement of his shame. That is where he found himself now: feeling like lava was pouring over him, but having none of that warmth reaching him inside, his core, his soul. It was cold, he was cold... in so many ways.

His hands begin to move as if on autopilot, running through his hair and breaking up the gel before reaching for his shampoo. But as he washes and lathers, the overwhelming need to pull those locks from his head fills him again."Desperate for changing",and as he pulls, he finds his scalp is already numb from the hot water... that he feels nothing.

This just causes him to move on to the next step in his routine; there was no point in hurting himself if he could not feel the pain, which was the whole point of self-punishment.

But as he moves on to washing his body, his hands begin to move differently: clinically."Starving for truth."

Ever since he cheated on Kurt, he has not felt the desire to feel pleasure—let along pleasure himself.

He had though. Blaine felt he had to, he did not want to, but it had been nearly three months. So he touched himself. It took nearly twenty minutes to get himself to even react, and every second he had to work against a nearly drowning sadness.

He did not want it, he did not need it, he hated it, but he had to. He was determined that this was the first step to healing himself.

He only ended up crying himself to sleep after his orgasm.

Blaine threw his washcloth against the tiled wall; it made an unsatisfyingsmack. He wanted the tiles to break. Damn physics and its laws.

"I'm closer to where I started—"

Quickly, he hurried out of the shower after shutting off the water, drying himself just as fast. The feel of his hands on his skin was starting to make him nauseous. Sick from his own touch and that Kurt does not feel the same.

Because how could he? He had... someone else.

Kurt (his Kurt) was moving on and did not need him anymore... but he would not leave him. That perfect young man was too kind hearted to truly ever let him go. Even his (not his) Kurt was susceptible to pity... or maybe he still loved him.

No.Blaine shook his head furiously."I'm chasing after you."He could not let himself hope like that anymore. It did not matter if Kurt loved him or not (but itdid, it sodid), Blaine could not let him. He was bad for him... his soul-mate... the love of his life. He was bad for him. And no misplaced feelings of want towards his friends would change that he was no good for Kurt, no good for anyone.

"But even so...I'm falling even more in love with you," a horrible croaking chuckle escaped from his lips. "Because you're so strong, Kurt. I broke you, but you have found a way... t-to fix yourself."It's not working... I'm still crying..."I know, I know you did... without m-me because you would have never been able to find l-love—Please, please d-don't be in love with him. I love you Kurt. I love you with all that I am." As Blaine let out a shaky breath, he felt his teeth chattering in his effort to stay calm. To not break down again. "I will love you the most. But I'm...Letting go of all I've held on to—because it was you Kurt. I was always you."

They are lying face to face.

"I want to go to your house."

Kurt was beautiful. With his (too good to be true) blue-eyes and naturally pink lips, his flawless pale skin and soft chestnut shaded hair. He was perfect. And he was Blaine's. And that was perfect, because it madethemperfect.

"I'm standing here until you make me move."

"Blaine."

"You take my breath away."

He cannot believe Kurt had not noticed. He was not wearing his blazer! Notice!

Then his boyfriend was hugging him. (Oh, Kurt.)

"Wait—wait—you didn't do this for me, did you? Because—"

Blaine just smiled at the blue-eyed boy, letting him ramble a bit before he cut in, "Hey, I came here for me."

"I'm hanging by a moment here with you."

He should have held him, kissed him (I should have. I wish I had. Be damned with them all!). But it was public school, and he was scared. His last public school experience had practically landed him in ICU.

But he made up for it later. With lots and lots of kisses.

And maybe a back-rub... that led to more kisses.

"I'm living for the only thing I know."

The box. That little red box with its ridiculous Christmas bow. The ring.

"If that's an engagement ring, my answer is 'Yes'."

"It's a promise ring... I made it out of gum wrappers—"

"Juicyfruit... my favorite... bowtie?"

Blaine threw down his towel. He could not even picture that memory the way it went, because he knew back then that there was another box in their future. With a real white gold ring. Kurt would say, "Yes."

But not anymore.

Clenching his eyes shut, his palms pressed painfully into them.I don't have the right to ever think of that time again. Of that ring. Of those promises.

"I'm running and not quite sure where to go."

The following sobs brought him to his knees.

Why had it taken his so long to realize?"I'm running and not quite sure where to go."Here was this boy, who stood by him for these last few months, who had befriended him, who was with him through his stupid crush, who dealt with being in the background that he was not used to—here he did not belong.

There you are.

Oh, how that hit him, and felt so right.

He was nervous. God, why was he so nervous?"And I don't know what I'm diving into."

But then they were kissing (Our first kiss.). But they were supposed to be practicing their duet. Then they were kissing again.

It took Blaine longer than expected to collect himself. But he made it to the counter, not wanting to look up at the mirror, not trusting himself. He was weak (Kurt always said he was strong and brave and dapper, maybe those were taken away from him when Kurt left... he did not deserve them anyway) and pathetic, a shell of his former self. Because Kurt took everything that wasBlainewith him when he left, when he turned his back.

He wiped the moisture from the mirror and glared at the image of himself reflected back at him, "Don'tmake this sound like it was his fault!" Fists slammed down against the marble with a wince-worthycrack, "You did this. You did.

"Just hanging... by a moment here with you.How can I ever look at you again?" Blaine slammed his fists down again. It hurt, but it felt... He felt. "How can I ever look at me again? I just want to vomit." Droplets of cooling water fly from his tossing curls as he shakes his head as violently as his shoulders were,Don't cry again, don't.

"You make me sick."

When he yanks at the corner of the mirror, the door slams loudly against the wall as it revealed the much more appealing cabinet-space within (he can't see himself, he can't)."I'm hanging by a moment—"

It takes him a long time of looking to see them. But when he does—

Nothing special happens.

It is just a pill bottle. Just like the other ones. It only stood out because it was orange.

"Just hanging by a moment—"

Then, it was like his whole world was suddenly in color. Because he knew now—

"—here with you."

—he knew what he needed to stop all of the pain he was causing Kurt... and himself.

"I'm never saying good-bye to you."