14.

By the time his parents return from their business trip that evening, Blaine has decided that it was a one-time mistake, a stupid, impulsive thing that he will never do again. He really doesn’t need to get any more screwed up.

He manages to stick to his decision until Tuesday, but honestly, on Monday he already knows it’s going to be a problem. Kurt has hardly contacted him at all since the short text to let him know that he arrived in New York safely. Even though Blaine knows that this is exactly how it should go, with Kurt slowly getting over him and focusing on his college life and new people, he can’t erase the vision of his beautiful, heartbroken face from his memory. It comes back every time he closes his eyes or gets lost in thought, haunting him day and night.

Soon he can feel the numbness creeping up on him again, saving him from the heartache, but leaving him feeling half-alive, half-awake, half-human. No pain means no good feelings either. No feelings at all, to be honest. Blaine hates that. It’s like walking in a thick, cold grey cloud. Everything is fuzzy and immaterial, unimportant. During therapy on Monday evening he talks about his Thanksgiving and about Kurt’s visit – not telling the therapist everything, of course, just the parts about wanting to prolong their time together forever, about love and longing, always longing. It should hurt, he knows, but it doesn’t, his brain and heart numb, frozen. It’s even worse than the pain, somehow – at least the pain was his, a part of his life still connected to Kurt – precious, with so many other connections gone. Now, he doesn’t even have this.

By Tuesday, Blaine isn’t even sure if he’s awake. Everything seems unreal, distant, like an echo of his life, like he’s living in his own head. That afternoon he’s home alone and on the verge of a panic attack as he’s trying to hold on to reality. He ends up in the bathroom, the razor in his violently shaking hand, promising himself to only cut once. Just to check if he can make himself feel again.

Four more fresh cuts adorn his arm a moment later, but the world has come back into focus and it’s so much easier to breathe and think clearly.

After that, it spirals down fast. On Wednesday morning he adds new cuts to his collection, this time on his upper thigh. By the evening, after therapy, the numb, panic-inducing feeling is back and he cuts again. He manages to control the number of cuts, at least – only two each time. So it’s good, it’s progress, right?

Except Kurt calls him on Thursday morning and asks, just like that, if he wants them to break up. Blaine doesn’t remember much from this conversation after he forces out the quiet Yes, although he’s pretty sure they talked for a long while. Any restraint goes out the window after that, the skin of his thigh is shredded within minutes. At least he has enough control to cut light, shallow, his promise to Kurt that he won’t try to take his life again guiding his hand.

Weak as a baby, probably more from shock than the blood loss, Blaine spends the whole day in bed, mostly sleeping, occasionally waking up only to remember that he broke up with Kurt. He can’t even cry, suffocated by the nothingness; the heaviness in his chest and the way the world seems emptier and darker than ever seem to be the only real feelings. He’s grateful for the fact that his mom doesn’t come back home until late evening that day, because he only has enough energy to keep up his façade for a moment before saying he’s tired and going back to bed.

It’s getting worse. So much worse than Blaine ever believed possible.