I tell my love to wreck it all

Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

Day 3

"Please eat cake." Kurt twisted his head to look over the back of the couch. "I never want to have another piece forced down my throat again. It needs to disappear."

Blaine raised an eyebrow; he had just walked through the Hummel's front door. The two week-old 'Welcome Home' banner still clung to the family room wall, but the fat, latex balloons purchased by Rachel for Kurt's homecoming from the hospital lay wilted on the ground. He ignored Kurt's plea and sat down in the vacant armchair. He studied one of the sad, shriveled balloons when it drifted toward his feet.

Kurt chewed at his lower lip. Apparently it was one of Blaine's bad days. It was also supposed to be the day Kurt pressed him to tell the truth to his parents. Now what? When Blaine's only action was to touch a shoe to a balloon nearby, Kurt finally spoke up, but kept his tone soft. "Anything in particular bothering you today or is this just a generalized thing?"

Blaine leaned his elbows on his knees, his eyes drifted to Kurt's cast. "Both."

When he offered no further explanation, Kurt had to bite back a sigh. Apparently this was going to be a guessing game. "Is it work?"

"No; work's fine." Blaine mumbled.

"Your parents?" Kurt tried again. Praying to God he wouldn't get the affirmative.

Blaine shook his head.

"Warblers? College? Bad dreams? Me?" Kurt listed off whatever he could think of, watching for any signs of a trigger.

Blaine's eyes settled on his face for a brief moment before moving toward the window overlooking the front lawn. "Where's your family?"

Apparently he wasn't in the mood to talk about feelings. Kurt played along, "Dad's at work, Finn's out with Puck, and Carol's probably buying more flour to whip up culinary creations to force feed me. I think she truly believes sweets are the body's best healer."

Blaine didn't smile at the joke. His eyes were on Kurt's face again, but he looked closer to tears than laughter.

"Hey," Kurt held out an arm toward the other boy, "come over here and talk to me."

Blaine hesitated for a moment before moving to the open space on the couch beside Kurt. He left a small space between them and remained mute.

Kurt pulled the pillow out from beside him and dropped it down into his lap. He pulled gently at Blaine's elbow. "Don't be like that. Come here."

Blaine reluctantly rested his head in Kurt's lap; he didn't like being splayed out like that though; it made him nervous.

"Relax, you're okay." Kurt rested one arm on Blaine's chest and ran his other hand through his hair. "Tell me something."

Blaine flinched, "Not today, Kurt."

Kurt fell silent for a moment, before offering a different topic up, "They're switching my cast to a boot tomorrow."

"That's good." Blaine murmured, his eyes drifting toward the television. He hated Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

Kurt followed his gaze, "You know if they can get famous enough to have multiple reality shows without having one iota of talent or intelligence, I feel like it shouldn't be too hard for us to gain some sort of stardom."

"You're probably right." Blaine replied.

When a commercial started, Kurt tried to provoke some sort of conversation again. "How was the benefit dinner thing a few nights ago? Suave and stuffy?"

"It was fine." Blaine shrugged one shoulder, his eyes still on the screen.

Kurt glanced back toward the TV; unless Blaine was actually considering hiring someone to clean his windows, he assumed the ad wasn't actually as engrossing as Blaine made it seem. "How was your date?"

"Maddie's a nice girl. We talked about this on the phone yesterday, remember?" Blaine's eyes moved down to follow one of the balloons that was being dragged across the carpet by some invisible draft or static force.

"Yes, I remember." Kurt studied Blaine; wishing there were some sort of clue to tip him off as to what he was supposed to do in this situation. He spotted the bandage when Blaine folded his arm across his middle, "What happened?"

Blaine's eyes moved up to his, blank. "What are you talking about?"

"Your hand." Kurt made to reach for the wounded appendage, but Blaine tucked it safely beneath his other arm.

"Kitchen accident." He mumbled.

"Oh," Kurt dropped his hand back down on Blaine's chest. He looked toward the empty kitchen and fought back the sudden urge to cry; how was he supposed to initiate a conversation he knew was going to provoke a fight when Blaine wouldn't even exchange small talk? Blaine was never this...cold. The topic of revealing secrets would not make things any better.

Blaine had turned his attention back to the television, but he knew the tension he felt in the body beside him. Kurt only got tense that way when he was trying not to cry. He had made him cry. Great. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and tucked an arm around Kurt's waist; he wasn't sure if the feeling of Kurt melting into his side was more gut churning or heart wrenching. "I'm sorry... it's just been an off week."

"Because of Monday? In the bathroom?" Kurt sniffled.

"What?" Blaine had almost forgotten he had seen Kurt earlier in the week at all, "Oh! No, no; no. It's not that."

"What is it then?" Kurt turned his gaze back to Blaine; his eyes misty "Did your dad say something about you and Maddie?"

Blaine let a long breath out his nose, "My dad never directly says anything about my being gay, Kurt. It's all implied. But no, he hasn't said-or implied-anything."

Kurt knew there was something that had set Blaine off; his moods were not like Kurt's own: he never just woke up feeling bitchy or sad or aggressive. Blaine needed a match lit under any ill feelings he harbored to get them going. Kurt used a palm against his cheek to turn his face toward his own. "I know there is something you aren't telling me, Blaine. I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not." Blaine mumbled, resisting every urge that told him to pull away from such intimate contact. He met Kurt's gaze and held it, but he couldn't come up with anything to say. He loved those eyes. Loved the way they shone with tears when Kurt was overwhelmed by any emotion, the way they searched his own to hold a silent conversation; and the color, "I have family in Minnesota."

"Okay..." Kurt waited to see where Blaine was going with this.

"I went to visit them a couple times when I was a kid-they had a big house out on Lake Superior. I loved lying down in the rocks and getting my face so close to the water I couldn't see anything else, just because I liked the color... It was the same color as your eyes." Blaine's gaze held; he wanted to be soothed by seeing nothing but aquamarine-take sanctuary in the Zen of focusing on nothing but blue, blue, blue.

Kurt wasn't sure if this was meant to be a distraction, but he didn't care. Blaine's words gave him a thrill up his spine, and his gaze was so intense... He didn't close his eyes when he leaned in to press his mouth to the other boy's.

Blue and green and muted sunshine so close it blurred in his vision, but as soon as he let his eyes drift close a familiar taste filled his mouth; the sensation of someone else's hand on his waist. He broke the kiss off quickly, stumbling to his feet and toward the bathroom.

Kurt watched him go in mild terror. He had been careful; his hands mindful of their position, his mouth soft against his lover's, but he could hear Blaine choking in the bathroom all the same. His father was right; Blaine needed help. Kurt felt his own stomach twist with anxiety; Blaine was not going to be happy. Not one bit.

When Blaine returned, his face pale and his expression guilty, he didn't sit down.

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat; "Things aren't getting better, Blaine. They're getting worse."

Blaine remained where he stood in front of Kurt, his eyes cast down; a puppy knowing he'd done wrong. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Blaine." Kurt lifted a hand then dropped it back into his lap. How do you offer solace to a lover who doesn't want to be touched? "I love you. So much. But you need help I can't give you."

Blaine looked even more rejected, "I didn't mean to-I mean I wanted to be able to-I love you, too. I really do."

Kurt nodded slowly. It was now or never. "I know you do; so if you won't do it for yourself, I need you to do something for me."

Blaine's eyes finally shifted to Kurt's face; waiting.

"I need you to tell your parents the truth about what happened to you, Blaine." Kurt didn't feel the same sense of conviction he had forcing Blaine into this as he had making him confess his secrets in the hospital. This was a nasty trick to play, and they both knew it.

Blaine closed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head.

"Please, Blaine; you have to. They can get you the help-"

"I don't need help." Blaine was still shaking his head.

"You were just physically sick from me kissing you, Blaine." It was Kurt's turn to look away. "This thing is going to eat you alive."

"No it won't; I've got it under control." Blaine folded his arms across his chest.

"You do not have this under control, Blaine." Kurt whispered.

"I'll get it under control then." Blaine offered.

"I know you would if you could, Blaine; I don't doubt that for a second. But you shouldn't have to do it alone-what happened to you shouldn't have to happen to anybody and to keep it to yourself all this time-"

"I told someone and look where it got me!" Blaine shouted.

Kurt flinched, "If I could fix this for you, you know that I would. I would do anything to see you happy again, Blaine."

"Telling my parents isn't the way to do that Kurt. It'll kill them." Blaine pressed the bases of his palms against his eyes. He was getting a headache.

Kurt felt something unhinge in him; some nearly irrational sense of terror; he could barely speak for the sobs that constricted his chest, "It's going to killyou, Blaine. Eventually you're not going to be able to do this anymore."

"It won't, it won't; I won't let it get that far." Blaine sank to his knees in front of Kurt. "Please don't cry. Please. I'll figure it out, I promise."

Kurt couldn't help himself; he pressed a hand against Blaine's cheek, sucking in deep breaths to quell his tears. "I don't want you to find a way back to pretending, Blaine. I don't regret making you tell me, I only regret thinking I would be able to make this better for you on my own. That was selfish."

"I don't need you to make it better; I can do it." Blaine insisted.

"Blaine if you don't tell them, I will." Kurt had to physically dig his nails into his palms to hold Blaine's gaze.

"You wouldn't. You can't." Blaine looked stricken.

"I don't want to, Blaine; I don't want to feel like I'm punishing you for this, but they need to know." Kurt felt sick with himself and finally had to look away from Blaine's betrayed face.

"Please, Kurt; I'm begging you." Blaine clenched both of Kurt's hands between his own, and looked up at the other boy desperately, "I can't handle that right now, please."

"We can do it together if you want," Kurt, no longer able to look Blaine in the eye, stared down at their hands. "But it's happening."

Blaine's hands slipped from his and he sat back on the carpet, silent.

Kurt stared down at his hands in his lap as mute as his counterpart. His father had promised him three days. Three days to get Blaine to fess up himself or Burt Hummel was driving to New Albany himself, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"Maybe we need to take a break."

Kurt's head snapped up at the sound of Blaine's voice, "Excuse me?"

Blaine was pulling at the edge of the bandage on his hand; he remained silent.

"You don't mean that." Kurt said carefully.

"This isn't working, Kurt; you said so yourself." Blaine's eyes remained on his hands.

"I meant we needed to find a way to fix this, not that we needed to break up." Kurt tried to ignore the voice inside of him that wanted to scream and cry and swear not to rat on Blaine. "You just told me you loved me, Blaine."

"And I do," Blaine's voice wavered, "but I can't do this right now. I'd be lying if I said I could."

Kurt caved to his desperate side when Blaine slowly got to his feet, "We don't have to tell your parents... not right now anyway. Blaine, you're being irrational."

"I was being irrational when I thought I could keep doing this, Kurt. It's not fair to you." Blaine swallowed hard, moving toward the door.

"Blaine, please, I didn't mean any of it. Please let's talk about this." Kurt stumbled to his feet, not bothering to find his crutch.

"I'll call you later." Blaine murmured, pulling his shoes on with shaky fingers.

"This cannot just be it, Blaine." Kurt pleaded, but he didn't know what to do. Blaine was already reaching for the door.

Blaine paused, his hand on the knob.

Kurt didn't move when Blaine's hand slipped from the door and his eyes turned back toward him. He didn't dare breathe when Blaine walked back to him, and he wished he could even stop his heart from beating if it would keep the boy he loved so close.

Blaine searched Kurt's eyes for a moment; a silent plea Kurt couldn't read before pressing his lips to his forehead and wrapping him into a tight hug. "For now, this is what it has to be."

Before Kurt could react- speak, grab a hold of him; do something. Blaine was gone. The door clicking shut behind him sooner that Kurt had registered he was no longer in his arms.

...And I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad...

Day 2

"Honey, you look terrible." Shannon Anderson abandoned the ribbon she had been tying around a gift basket to intercept her son on his way through the kitchen.

"I'm fine, Mom." Blaine mumbled, side-stepping around her to pull a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

"You're not running too hard, again, are you?" She took another step behind him; eyeing his pale skin.

"I just got out of bed." He replied; he tried to slip around her again to go back to his room, but she remained firmly in his path.

She caught him gently by the shoulders and pressed her lips to his forehead, "You have a terrible fever, baby."

"I'm fine. I just have a headache." Blaine shied away from her hold, "I'm just going to go lay down."

"Stop right there, mister." His mother caught a hold of the back of his shirt, effectively stopping him once again.

With little other choice, Blaine stood silently as Shannon pulled down a bottle of ibuprofen from a cupboard. She shook three into his palm. "They'll bring your fever down."

"Thanks." He chased the pills with a drink of water and made a hasty exit before she could try offering breakfast. When Tucker chased after him, Blaine gently shooed him away, finally closing the door in his face when he continued to chase Blaine up the stairs.

He lay on his back atop the covers of his bed. His eyes caught a little blur of movement on the wall. A spider. He rolled onto his side and watched it skitter across the white paint until it froze a few inches from the bathroom door. He focused his attention on it so hard, it blurred in his vision- it's spindly legs blurring into a larger black mass.

He felt like he should feel something. Guilt. Disgust. Self-loathing. But there was nothing. His mind felt more vacant than the white wall he stared at. The spider was moving again; up the edge of the doorframe and then back down again toward its original position.

"Blaine?" His mother knocked so softly, Blaine almost missed the sound.

"Yeah?" Blaine called back, his eyes drifting toward the door when he heard the latch click open.

"Look who I found in the hallway laying outside your door." His mother smiled when Tucker jumped onto Blaine's bed, nosing at him affectionately and crying softly, "You always want him with you when you're sick. Didn't you hear him out there?"

"I'm not sick, Mom." Blaine sat up in bed, pushing at Tucker gently to lie down quietly, "It's just a headache."

Tuck pressed himself close to Blaine's side, still crying and pawing at his side for attention. Blaine rubbed his back absently until the dog quieted.

His mother seated herself on the edge of his bed and touched the back of her hand to his forehead, "Do you think you're getting migraines again? We could get you another prescription for them."

"Maybe." Blaine shrugged.

She let her hand fall back to her lap, "You haven't had a migraine in a long time; maybe last night was just too much activity-you seemed a little ill at dinner."

"Maybe." Blaine agreed again.

"I have to go deliver those donation baskets from last night." She offered after a momentary silence.

Blaine nodded absently, still stroking Tucker's side.

"Will you be all right by yourself?" She studied him almost anxiously.

Blaine would have laughed if he could remember how, "I'm seventeen, Mom; I can handle being home alone with a headache."

"I just don't want to find you dead from a cerebral hemorrhage or something when I get home." She smiled.

"Theme of one of your recent book club reads?" Blaine mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Oh, hush. Are you sure you'll be all right? You just seem horribly off, honey." She checked his temperature a third time as though she expected some sort of massive spike in the three minutes since her last check up. "I might be gone for quite a while... you can invite your friend Kurt over if you'd like."

"He can't drive right now," In all truthfulness, Blaine had no idea if Kurt could drive with his cast, but Kurt-with all his questions and immediate intuition of something as minor as a sliver bothering Blaine-was the last person Blaine wanted to see that day, " but I'll be fine by myself. "

"Well, if you're sure- Oh!"

Blaine opened his eyes and followed his mother's wide eyes to the wall.

"Disgusting." His mother muttered, plucking a book from Blaine's bookshelf before stalking toward the wall, the book already raised.

"No, don't." Blaine shoved himself up off the bed, catching her arm lightly to stop it before she could swing it down.

"Blaine-" His mother protested, her nose wrinkling when the spider retreated.

Blaine pressed one palm against the wall and corralled the arachnid with the other toward it until his fingers were closed around it. "Could you open the window?"

His mother gave him a funny look before moving to push the window frame open.

Blaine leaned out and tipped the spider down onto the overhang of the roof. He watched it skitter away until it blended with the black of the shingles. When he pulled his head back in and shut the glass tightly, his mother was watching him. "What?"

She laughed and kissed his cheek, "Such a sensitive soul, Blaine."

He felt his stomach churn at her words, but she was already moving toward the door, "do you want me to pick you up anything while I'm out?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Blaine listened to her steps down the stairs, the sound of her getting her keys and the crinkle of cellophane as she gathered up her baskets. Finally the door slammed and the car pulled out of the garage. Blaine sat back down on his bed, his back against the headboard. With his little friend from the wall gone onto bigger and better places and Tucker snoring beside him, he had nothing to occupy his mind. He pulled the Swiss army knife from his pocket, pulling out each of its little attachments and snapping them back into place. The corkscrew so small he had never figured out what it was good for, the scissors, the serrated blade, the plastic toothpick (another item he found a bit nonsensical), and finally the biggest blade. He had felt a rush of adrenaline as a preteen, flipping out the sharp steel edge. He felt no such rush now, staring at the cold metal. Open, shut, open, shut, open, shut; open. His mind drifted as he ran the pad of his index finger over its edge. It snagged his skin and three neat beads of crimson bubbled up. He watched it slip down his finger slowly; drying before it could even touch his palm. He felt a strange dip of disappointment watching it stop so quickly.

He closed his hand down around the blade, clamping his fingers tight against it. He let out a soft gasp when he felt it bite into his skin. He let go and watched the puddle of red that formed- faster and heavier than the little scrape to his finger, and then it was sliding down his arm. Fast. What the hell am I doing?

Blaine dropped the knife to the floor and stumbled into the bathroom. But before he turned on the sink, he hesitated for a moment longer, turning his wrist so he could watch in the mirror. His gaze shifted from his bloody palm to his own eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He stuck his hand under the sink, using his good hand to hold it steady at the wrist. He didn't like watching it tremble like that.

All at once, he wanted Kurt. Needed Kurt. To tell him it was going to be okay, to hug him so tight it hurt, to make him feel safe again. Tomorrow; I'll go over there tomorrow. He couldn't tell Kurt anything, and it wouldn't change what he had gotten himself into, but he could at least take momentary sanctuary in being close to the boy he loved. You can keep last night out for a few hours to be with him, he reassured himself as he wrapped his hand. Life hadn't dropped the book down on him yet; he still had Kurt.

Now let's not get selfish

Did you really think I'd let you kill this chorus?

Day 1

Blaine stepped out of his car and slumped his back against its side. He stared over at the parking lots soul other occupant.

Eric was leaned against his passenger door, one ankle crossed over the other, a bottle of something amber colored dangling casually from one hand. He smiled at Blaine, "So glad you could make it."

Blaine folded his arms across his chest and glanced around the dark lot.

"The boys aren't here. Just the two of us tonight." Eric lifted the glass bottle and took a pull from it, his eyes never leaving Blaine.

Blaine regarded him for a moment, noting he was still in his dress shirt and pants, but he said nothing.

Eric put the bottle down on top of his car before making his way around to the driver's side door. He leaned in and cued up his radio before coming back around to the other side of the car. He grinned, "Who knew you could sing, Blaine? I had no idea; why didn't you tell me?"

"Must have slipped my mind." Blaine hated this part. The slow, methodical pleasantries-no matter how many times they had been through this, Blaine could never guess when things would suddenly turn ugly.

"I picked out this song just for you, B. Now that I know how much you appreciate music I felt like it was only right-and I owe you something for coming out here to see me tonight." Eric plucked the bottle from the top of the car again.

Blaine opted to ignore the music. He didn't need that tainted too.

"Say thank you, Blaine." Eric instructed flatly.

"Thank you." Blaine muttered, watching Eric as he danced his way toward him, humming along to the music.

When he was within a few feet, Eric extended the bottle to Blaine, eyebrows raised.

"No thanks." Blaine shook his head.

"I wasn't asking." Eric's arm remained extended.

Blaine sighed and took the bottle, studying the label for a moment before raising it to his lips. Scotch. It was hot and smooth in his mouth and warmed his chest before he had even lowered the bottle from his mouth. He offered the bottle back to Eric.

"Have another; you look like you could use it." Eric rolled the cuffs of his suit shirt up his forearms, still swaying to the music.

Blaine took another, longer pull; he was grateful for the slight softening it gave to his anxiety. When Eric still made no move to take the bottle back, Blaine set it down on the hood of his car.

"Lets get these teen hearts beating faster, faster..." Eric was singing along quietly, still swaying. If it had been anyone else, Blaine would have thought he was drunk. But this was not anybody else, and when the other boy took a few steps closer, he did not reek of alcohol-only a hint of it lingered on his breath when he spoke and his body smelled like cologne...and perfume.

"How did your date with Maddie turn out?" Eric queried.

"It was fine." Blaine held his ground when Eric came even closer. A retreat was never received well.

"Did you let her down easy?" Eric suddenly slammed his hips against Blaine's so forcefully, Blaine stumbled back against his car, "Or did you pity fuck her?"

Blaine swallowed hard; trying to focus on anything but how close Eric's body was to his. He could feel the heat radiating off the other boy's chest against his. "I told her I was seeing someone."

Eric pressed even closer for a moment while he leaned over to retrieve his bottle. He pouted. "You're no fun at all, Blaine. I hit Keira's sweet ass twice before I came out for our little tryst."

Blaine felt a little sick at the notion of one of Nadia's friends willingly submitting herself to the man pinning him against his own car.

Eric was still watching him, "How do you know you wouldn't like fucking a girl, Blaine?"

Blaine gritted his teeth together, trying to remain calm.

"Is it because you like fucking boys so much? Nothing else quite measures up?" Eric smoothed the shoulder of Blaine's shirt with his free hand. "Do you fuck Kurt, Blaine?"

Blaine flinched involuntarily. He wondered if Eric could feel his heartbeat quicken through their shirts.

"I can't imagine he'd be fucking you; he's such a delicate little thing, even with those fists flying-like an angry little bird." Eric chuckled, "...or maybe you two don't at all."

Blaine glanced over his shoulder when Eric reached behind them to set the bottle back down on the roof of the car. He was on guard for every movement.

"That's how things are, right? Aw, Jesus, I can just imagine," Eric chuckled, finally pulling a few inches away from Blaine, "He'll fool around as much as your little heart desires, but he's saving himself-his lovely, untouched pureness- for the perfect, romantic evening-candlelight with strawberries and champagne and all of that shit...and then there's you."

Blaine's eyes went back to Eric's face on their own accord. His voice was a hypnotizing charm he couldn't turn away from.

"See, for you, buddy boy, there are two problems." Eric lifted two fingers and pointed to the first, "one, you've been around the block... a few times now. Kurt doesn't need any of that back alley shit, does he?"

Blaine felt sick, but he couldn't look away.

"And two: in the end, we both know," Eric lowered his hand and ran it down Blaine's neck until he was tracing the collar of his shirt; he moved his face in so close his lips brushed his ear when he spoke, "for you, it will always just be me."

Eric had anticipated Blaine's sudden attempt to break free, he pressed his back hard against the car- giving him nowhere else to go.

"Hush, hush now," Eric was using both hands to pin Blaine's shoulders to the metal behind him, "No need for theatrics; I only want one little thing from you tonight, Blaine."

"What?" Blaine mumbled, his heart thrumming in his ears.

"A kiss." Eric smiled.

Blaine stared at him blankly. Eric had made him do a lot of things, but never that. "W-what?"

"You heard me." Eric eyed Blaine's mouth. "I want you to kiss me the way you kiss him."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Blaine would have crumbled to the ground if Eric's bodies weren't pressed so closely to his. "Is it because you're in the closet? You're angry? What?"

"Oh, Blaine, don't be so fucking stupid." Eric laughed, "After all our time together, you still don't get it, do you?"

Blaine held his gaze, but he was given no response to his question.

"I'm waiting, Blaine." Eric lifted his hands from his shoulders and tapped a finger to the crystal face of his watch.

Blaine hesitated; still not trusting the situation. Eric never wanted anything small; anything innocent.

"Do it or I'll drive to Lima right now and fuck that little bitch until he screams for mercy." Eric's voice was suddenly cold.

Blaine seized his face between his hands and pressed his mouth to the other boy's. Cinnamon, scotch, and smoke. The taste burned his tongue and would creep back onto his palate for another two days after- making it almost impossible for him to keep a meal down for more than an hour or two, but he didn't know that then.

When he pulled away, Eric licked his lips and smiled, "Not bad, Blaine; not bad at all."

Blaine folded his arms across his chest tightly.

Eric picked up his bottle in one hand and reached out with the other toward Blaine. He ran his fingers down the front of Blaine's shirt, affectionately reached up to smooth his hair, and finally let his hand come to rest on his cheek. "I'll be in touch, but until then, I want you to remember this. Every time you kiss him, I want you to remember what you just did."

Blaine backed away from Eric like his palm had burned him, bumping into his car once again.

Eric seemed unfettered; he walked backward toward his own car, "Sweet dreams, Blaine."

A flash of headlights, the crunch of gravel beneath rubber, and then silence and darkness.

Blaine was alone.