Meh. MEH. Can I please die? I'm like… You know how we all imagine our FCMD boys to be 1) at first in denial about how sick they are, 2) Cavers when they're vomiting, 3) Clingy wittle boys to ridiculous extents, and 4) Slight complainers?

Yes. I'm all of the above. I'm such a stereotypical, sick gay boy. SO. STEREOTYPICAL!

Althought, to be clear, I'm a girl.

NOW LET'S WRITE! Cause this chapter should be rather… rather intense. BWAHAHA! Get ready for a Mercedes moment that would out-do the woman herself.

"No, Wes, we're still looking." Nick listened as Jeff talked on his phone. They were searching the school for any sign of Kurt or Blaine, but so far they had come up short. Nick wouldn't lie; he was kind of scared. He didn't want to see Blaine on his knees for Kurt anymore. It physically pained him to see him this hurt, and Nick knew, he knew, that it would only get worse if- "Wait, Nicky, is that…? Crap. Wes, Blaine-a-bee is in the parking lot. Bring your A-game."

"Oh…" Nick breathed, his eyes following Jeff's line of sight out the hallway window. There was Blaine all right: right next to Kurt's car. And was he…? Yes. He was hitting the freaking crap out of it with what looked like a crowbar. Nick could just make out tears on Blaine's face from where he stood, glinting under a streetlight.

He was suddenly aware of Jeff's hand latched onto his, and the blonde started dragging him down and out to the parking, where Blaine was, in fact, bashing in the side of the driver's door of Kurt's Navigator. Nick didn't know what to do, and he could see Jeff didn't either. Blaine had his teeth gritted together, and he was crying harder than Nick had yet to see him. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to do, shoot, why didn't he know what to do? Jeff nudged him in the side. "Say something, Nicky," he begged more than anything else, his face growing as wet with tear's as Blaine's. Nick gulped.

"Blaine… Blaine, you need to back away from the car, okay? I need you to back away from the car," he pleaded, sounding just as desperate as Jeff just did. He could feel himself starting to get upset, and he hated this. "B-Blaine. You got'a stop, okay? Just stop."

But Blaine didn't stop. He just kept hitting, and hitting, and hitting: crowbar held tight in his hands. The paint on the now thoroughly dented car door was peeled off and scratched. Blaine delivered a particularly hard blow to the hood of the Navigator, forcing the top of the door down and in, cracking the window into a white, mesh spider web of sorts. Nick didn't know what to do… Gosh, he didn't know what to do, and now he was crying, and Jeff was crying, and, crap, Blaine was crying, and he didn't know what to do!

Luckily, Wes apparently did because suddenly the older boy was forcing Blaine's arms behind his back and taking him to the ground. Wes looked somehow both terrified and determined, and Blaine was beneath him -sobbing even harder than before- as Wes wrestled the crowbar away from him. Oh gosh, Nick didn't know what to do, Nick didn't know what to do, and David was there, pulling Wes off of Blaine, and Blaine was standing up weeping with his head in his hands, and crap, Nick didn't know what to do!

"What are you thinking, Blaine?" Wes asked, his face red with… something, Nick wasn't sure what. "You can't just go beating the crap out of other people's cars like this!" Blaine looked at him in a way that broke Nick's heart; he looked so hopeless and hurt.

"I know, okay?" he responded, his face crumbling. "I know." Blaine was sniffling all over the place, rubbing his nose off on his sleeve and his tears off on the back of his hand. "I ca- I can't do this… I know I can't do- I can't do this. I can't… Oh crap, I can't do this," Blaine said, his resolve breaking, and Nick got the feeling that they weren't just talking about a car anymore.

"Blaine-a-bee-" Nick tried to say, extending a hand to the other boy's shoulder, but he batted him away, effectively cutting him off.

"No, don't touch me. Don't touch me; no one should touch me. I just… I jus' need t'hit… t'hurt… I don't…" Blaine struggled to manage to get the words out of his mouth, his entire body quaking before Nick's very eyes, and he just wanted to pull him into a hug and make everything better. Why did everything have to be so complicated? He just wanted to…

Nick gritted his teeth. He was gonna do this. Crap, why was he gonna do this?

He walked over to Kurt's car, throwing a look back to Jeff uncertainly. The blonde arched an eyebrow at him for a minute before understanding flooded his eyes. He nodded once, and that was all Nick needed before he was sending the toe of his very, very expensive Italian dress shoes into the front left headlight of Kurt's Navigator.

-Crunch!-

Suddenly, the night was silent. Even Blaine's crying had subsided, and the little guy was looking at him like a dear in headlights. Nick could honestly throw up all over himself. "Well… like you didn't want to!" he retaliated to the other Warbler's weird looks, and he watched as their faces paled. Gah, he felt so nauseous right now! He really… he really had wanted to. Kurt was just being so… frustrating. It was obvious he didn't care at all about Blaine, and that… that wasn't okay.

Nick wasn't good with the whole resentment thing. He was always that guy who saw a druggie and was like, 'oh, maybe he was just having a rough year' or saw a man on the news robbing an ATM and was like, 'you never know. His baby girl could need heart surgery or something…' But right now? Nick was somewhat sure that he hated Kurt. Cause Blaine just looked so, so sad, and if totaling a car was going to make him feel better? Well, then…

Nick sent his heel into Kurt's blinkers, and Plexiglas showered to the ground, the orange flecks shimmering around his feet. He looked down at them in a bit of a huff, when the sound of Jeff kicking at the car's bumper caught his attention. His six wasn't holding back as he brought his foot down over and over. He didn't even look up when David started copying him on the fender side. Nick smiled to himself a bit before busting out the other headlight on the car, watching out of the corner of his eye as Wes snatched up the crowbar and sent it through the windshield. Hmm. Funny how the alarm wasn't going off…

Nick could see Blaine in his peripheral, standing by as they demolished his not-quite-ex's car. Nick stopped what he was doing and looked about for a minute before he spotted a rather large and heavy tree branch on the ground. "Here," he said, putting it into the skinny boy's hands. "Beat the crap out of it," he offered, and Blaine looked at him, lost for a moment, before bringing the branch down on the driver's door to dent the thing even further.

A warm feeling filled Nick. Yes, he was slightly guilty about doing something this illegal and wrong, but at the same time… Nick knew Blaine needed this. He knew that the other boy had to at least on some level feel like things were slipping out of his control, and he would be lying if he said he didn't notice the way the tears were drying on Blaine's cheeks.

And frankly? The other Warblers needed this, too. They were all strung out, and frustrated, and mad that anyone would do this to their poor little Blaine, who they had known when he wasn't quite so courageous. Nick knew that it wasn't just him who saw that same, scared sophomore that he was before in him now.

So yes. Literally nothing could make him feel happier than helping destroy the car of Kurt Hummel. Well… maybe none of this ever happening, but that wasn't an option. Why couldn't it be an option? Nick kicked at Kurt's fender. Why couldn't it be an option? He kicked harder. Why couldn't it be an option! He kicked harder, and then Nick noticed Blaine had stopped hitting the car.

Nick turned to see what had made the junior stop and noticed a very familiar frame walking down the front steps of the school. "Crap!" he yelped, grabbing Blaine by the wrist and dragging him away. "Guys! Party's over!" he whispered as loud as he could, letting out a breath of relief when Jeff helped him with a scared stiff Blaine. They got out of there fast.

Kurt had seen some guys, he had seen them run away, and he had seen his car… Now what? By the time he had reached his now completely ruined Navigator, whoever had busted it up were long gone. There was a short flashback to Mercedes throwing a rock through his windshield, but Kurt knew this was way worse. He was pretty sure if he even touched the door to get into his car, the entire thing would fall apart. It looked awful. All the lights were smashed in, his windshield and driver's window were cracked, and dents lined the base all the way around.

So now what?

It's not like Kurt could go back into Dalton; he clearly wasn't welcome there. On the other hand, it was freezing out, and Kurt hadn't thought to bring anything heavier than a windbreaker for a jacket. What had he been thinking? Kurt surveyed the damage done to his car as he dug into his pocket for his cell phone. Oh gosh… what had he been thinking?

The line rang for what felt like an eternity before someone finally picked up. "Kurt?" Burt sounded confused over the phone, and Kurt figured it probably had something to do with the way he had ran out earlier. He pressed his cell impossibly close to his ear.

"Dad?" he gagged, alarmed when he realized he was crying. Crap, how long had that been going on? Kurt let a couple tears roll out before continuing. "Dad, I… I need you t'pick me up," he struggled to speak through his sobs, and he could practically feel his father's brain go into panic mode.

"What is it; have you been drinking?" Burt asked, coming off as very concerned and very… parental with the words. Despite it being just the slightest bit annoying, Kurt wanted to melt into it a little bit.

"They didn't let me say sorry, Daddy," he cried out with one long, shaky breath, his voice higher than usual. He could hear the grabbing of keys and the slamming of doors, both house and car, as his dad presumably started making his way out to him. "They ruined my car!"

"Oh, Kurt…" Burt sighed, and Kurt just wanted a hug.

Cause… cause his car was ruined, and his relationships were ruined, and his Blaine was ruined, and no one seemed to want to let him feel better. It was like there was no way for him to be forgiven for his mistakes, and maybe there wasn't. Because maybe things were worse than he thought…

"Don't worry, kiddo. I'm on my way…"

You know what? Also, as I'm sick, I'm giving myself the opportunity to dress like a freaking hooker tomorrow. I feel like every girl needs that day occasionally where she makes all the guys who did her wrong regret their dumbness.

SO I'MMA DO IT!

Listening to "Bad" may have instilled this goal within me. Seriously, when they get low and retro, I get… lusty, for lack of a better word…