By the end of the week, Blaine was just a tiny bit thankful that he no longer had to deal with Laila until the new auditions in two weeks time. It stung that the night before could possibly be his last show, but it wasn't worth the attacks from the media and people he didn't know very well. Too many of them blamed him for the end of the production, despite what he might have said.

One Tuesday night, Blaine found himself sulking about the city. He really didn't have anywhere in particular to go, but he wasn't too anxious to get back home. He'd briefly considered finally heading over to the 24- hour coffee shop where Kurt worked, but decided he'd rather not have one of their first real interactions to be tainted by his bad moods.

So Blaine wandered aimlessly, not paying much attention to his surroundings. Occasionally he'd run headfirst into someone who likely had their own problems to deal with. His phone buzzed in his pocket over and over with notifications, texts, and emails. He'd stopped checking those days before, opting to sift through all of them late at night before he went to sleep. If it was important, someone would call him.

Soon enough, Blaine found himself in front of a small, but chic, Italian pastry shop, trying to decide if it was worth it to go inside and buy a nine dollar cannoli. He didn't stir when the door to the shop opened and closed.

It wasn't until he heard a voice that Blaine bothered checking who was there.

"Are you coming in or planning on standing there until someone brings you food outside?" a familiar voice asked.

Blaine looked up, noticing that he recognized the face in front of him.

"Oh, hi. Sam, right?"

"The one and only," he responded, leaning against the front entrance. "and you, Blaine Anderson, have been standing outside of that window for long enough for those pastries to sell out."

"I know, I know. I haven't really been 100% here lately. I'm sorry." Blaine shook his head. "Anyways, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, not much. A little sightseeing, a few shows in semi-small venues. I'm mostly just killing time until I can get down to Tennessee to start recording again."

"Right, because you are a country singer."

"A country singer that wants to get back to his coffee. Are you coming in or what?"

Blaine shrugged and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, "Okay, sure."

Sam opened the door wider and gestured for Blaine to enter, following closely behind.

"I'm sitting over there if you want to join," Sam said, pointing to the bar-like seating near the windows.

"That'd be great!" Blaine responded. "I'll just go grab something and be right back."

Sam nodded, returning to his seat. He hopped onto the stool, took out his phone, and began scrolling through it while he waited.

Blaine only took two minutes to get his food. He hesitated a moment before deciding to sit down next to Sam, offering a pleasant smile while he set his things down.

"So," Sam started, putting down his phone, "how are you holding up?"

Blaine winced at the question he'd heard one too many times. "In general? Or regarding my work issues?"

Sam shrugged, "either or, whichever you want to talk about. I'm not nosy."

Blaine smiled, his face not fully showing the relief he felt at not having to explain to Sam that this had pretty much been the worst week of his life for various reasons. "Oh, well in general I guess I'm alright?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, taking a sip from his coffee mug. "Really? That's impressive. From some of the things I've seen thrown around, I'm kind of surprised that you are still in New York. I would be long gone by now."

"Yeah," he sighed, looking down at his cup. "I try not to think about it too much. This entire ordeal has been a mess but I've got to keep moving, you know."

Sam nodded. "What are your plans now? Are you still going to audition in a few weeks?"

"Maybe." Blaine straightened himself out, shifting his plate and cup until they were neatly lined up in front of him. "It doesn't even matter how well I do, though. They could easily decide not to hire me for the principle of it. So we'll see, I guess."

Sam didn't say anything for a minute, realizing that all this talk of the show was eating away at Blaine. He searched Blaine's face for a moment, thinking hard.

"Are you doing anything today?" he finally asked.

"Probably not."

"When was the last time you went to see some live music, Blaine? I'd bet my guitar it's been a while."

He laughed, because it was true. Blaine thought of the multiple invites to concerts he'd turned down in the past few months thanks to Laila. It all seemed pretty ridiculous now, that he'd spent nearly a year of his life only caring about getting his lines right and meticulously perfecting his choreography and now it couldn't matter less.

"If by a while you mean nearly a year, then yes."

Sam blinked at him before clicking his tongue and downing the last of his coffee. "Well then, I know what you are doing today."

He stood up a bit forcefully and motioned for Blaine to follow him. Blaine was a little confused with Sam's sudden movements. "Where exactly are we going?" he asked, slowly standing up and picking up his dessert.

"There's an open-mic today at a bar near....NYADA I think it is? I was debating on going today, but you are in dire need of something fun and partially pointless right now. We're going, and you are not allowed to say no.

Blaine only paused a moment before following Sam out of the door. After all, it wasn't like he had a musical to perform in the next day.

"Dude you totally have to sing something," Sam said a little too loudly. "Teach these college kids how it's done."

Blaine laughed, bending over his drink and shaking his head. "I don't think so, I haven't done an impromptu performance since I went to NYADA myself."

"All the more reason!" Sam hollered, pushing Blaine lightly.

Blaine shook his head again, feeling light and giddy. He wasn't drunk per se, but buzzed enough that everything around him felt a little less serious, and the pressure on his shoulders a little lighter.

"Nah, I'll just watch a few kids sweat their way through their ballads."

Sam huffed out a breath of air, "Fine." He offered an over exaggerated pout, before suddenly changing his expression again. "I'll be right back, bathroom."

Blaine nodded, waving him off and finishing off his drink.

Blaine leaned back against the counter, sweeping his eyes across the crowd. All of the kids there reminded him so much of his former self. Excited and scared. Intimidated and empowered. Sometimes he missed that feeling of innocence. Then again, it was not bad being a Broadway star.

Or, well, ex Broadway star.

He grimaced to himself at the thought and forced himself to turn back towards the stage where a girl had just sat herself in front of the piano, getting ready to perform.

"Ten bucks says she's about to do a stripped down version of a top forty song right now."

Blaine's head whipped around, recognizing the voice instantly. "KURT!" he exclaimed a little forcefully, causing a few people near him to turn around.

"Well, hi there." Kurt responded, sitting down next to Blaine.

Blaine stared a Kurt for a few beats, his facial expression unreadable.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just that... you're really pretty. It makes me jealous."

Kurt furrowed his brows in disbelief. "Uh huh, if you say so."

"No I mean it. Not pretty like girl pretty. Just pretty like your face is nice to look at."

Kurt burst out laughing, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. He shook from the force of the laughter, eye crinkling at the corners that told Blaine the laughter was genuine.

"Blaine, you are drunk."

"I'm not drunk," he affirmed. "I only had two drinks."

"Lightweight," Kurt muttered loud enough for Blaine to hear.

He gasped in false shock, "Am not!"

"Whatever, tell that to your hangover tomorrow."

Sam chose this moment to return from the restroom, not really questioning why someone else had taken his seat. Before he could say anything to Kurt, Blaine had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and brought him in between himself and Kurt.

"Sam, tell Kurt I'm not drunk," Blaine nearly whined.

"Um... Hi Kurt. He isn't drunk?" Sam said a bit hesitantly.

"Yes he is."

"He's definitely tipsy," he half whispered, "but we won't tell him that."

At that moment, the girl on stage had just finished up her song, and she left the stage. No one rushed to take her spot, and it stood empty for a few minutes.

"You should go up there," Kurt said, looking at Blaine.

Blaine opened his mouth to immediately protest, but Sam cut him off before he could utter a single word.

"That's what I told him! But he won't go."

"That's ridiculous. Blaine Anderson with stage freight?"

"I don't get stage freight," Blaine answered indignantly.

Kurt crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, "Okay. Prove it."

Blaine gathered himself up and headed straight for the stage, sitting himself down in front of the piano and laying his fingers across the keys before realizing that he didn't actually have a song.

He thought for a moment before angling the microphone to catch his voice and looking up into the audience where Sam and Kurt sat eagerly.

"So you guys might not know this song, and I'm only doing it because that guy over there thinks top forty songs aren't cool," Blaine pointed straight at Kurt, who chuckled in response.

I was left to my own devices
Many days fell away with nothing to show

And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Great clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from above

Blaine paused dramatically, looking up at the audience that had grown more quiet for him than for other performers. He could tell that a few people around him recognized his face and voice, and a few whispers were beginning to circulate.

But if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

We were caught up and lost in all of our vices
In your pose as the dust settles around us

Blaine made the song heavy. He took his time on each note, giving each word power and meaning. It was partly from habit, but he also did it for himself. He felt each word until the meaning began to strike him in the chest. His world had been falling apart, and he wished nothing more than to close his eyes and pretend the last week hadn't happened.

And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Great clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from above

But if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

Oh where do we begin?
The rubble or our sins?
Oh where do we begin?
The rubble or our sins?

He paused again, looking up and locking eyes with a few audience members before letting his eyes slide closed again as he finished off the song. This time he let it build in strength, pushing through the power of his voice.

And the walls kept tumbling down
In the city that we love
Great clouds roll over the hills
Bringing darkness from above

Until finally, it all came crashing down.

But if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
Nothing changed at all?
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

When he finished there was a split second where nobody moved, until Sam stood up from his chair and began hollering from his chair.

"WOO BLAINE!"

Suddenly everyone was clapping and Blaine felt the sudden urge to throw himself off of the stage. He smiled politely and hurried off, meeting Sam and Kurt again.

"See, I don't have stage freight AND I'm not drunk. No one can sing well when they're drunk."

"Of course, Blaine," Sam answered.

Kurt pulled out his phone, checking the time and offering a low curse when saw it.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. It was nice seeing you again, Blaine, and nice meeting you Sam."

Sam nodded, reaching out to shake Kurt's hand. He took it, smiling pleasantly.

"I hope I'll see you around," Kurt said, more to Blaine than Sam.

"Let's just hope next time I'm sober." Blaine said.

"Aha! He admits it!" Sam grinned.

Kurt laughed again, waving to the two before backing out the door. "Bye!"

"Bye," the two other men responded in unison.

As soon as Kurt was out of sight, Sam turned back to the stage. "Alright then, it's my turn."