Blaine jolted awake, throwing the blankets off himself in the process. He was covered in cold sweat, giving the room a sick, humid feeling, almost like Blaine had fallen asleep in a sauna.

The light streaming through his blinds into the still quiet, shady room gave him a clear view of his dresser, his shelves (the ones filled with 1st place chess club trophies and the DVD box set of Battlestar Galactica he bought on Amazon with his Christmas money) and his side table.

He reached over and turned the fan on, which splashed a cool breeze to him and made him feel less like a sweaty teenager.

Unfortunately for Blaine, though, that's exactly what he was.

His phone said it was 9:45. It was Thursday, May twelfth.

He blinked and realized he was late for school.

Really, really, late.

School. Blaine thought, groaning to himself as he thought back to what he thought was the day before.

Did that all really happen? Kurt coming to school, him kissing Kurt and Kurt ripping off-

Oh no.

Blaine prayed he had dreamed that- he must have dreamed that. 

There is no way Dave Karofsky was dead.

 Blaine giggled to himself nervously as he padded across the hall to the bathroom, completely sure he was going out of his mind.

He hopped into the shower and yelped slightly as the cold water hit him. He knew he must have been dreaming about it all, but even with that logic lodged into his head, an uneasy feeling was held in his body, like maybe he didn't.

Every touch felt so real, his hands unlocking his locker, holding his books, Kurt's hands-

God- Kurt's hands, on the back of his neck, holding his own hands, on his face as he kissed him.

He felt every twitch and movement of Kurt's lips trailing over his, pushing against his own.

He traced his lips with a finger as he thought about it.

It had to be the most vivid dream Blaine had ever had, and that's what scared him more than anything.

He turned the knob on the shower, successfully stopping the water.

He stepped out and began drying off, half mindedly looking for any scratches or marks that cold give him clues as to what was reality and what was a dream.

His eyes came to a halt on his right arm.

He remembered the burning feeling of Kurt digging his nails in and out of Blaine's arm, but there was only untouched skin where a terrible gash should be.

He smiled to himself as he toweled off the rest of his body.

Of course it was a dream you idiot.

 Kurt would never kill Karofsky, though sometimes Blaine wished the jock would disappear, he'd never wish death upon anyone.

Blaine walked across the hall to his room and shut off the fan. He picked up the clothes that were lying on his chair and carefully put them on.

A blue and white striped button up shirt, a pair of dark-wash, short legged jeans, and blue boat shoes. He settled on a black bowtie from the pile he'd left stacked on his dresser, completing the outfit.

He could hear his dad shuffling around downstairs, and Blaine, first wondered why he didn't wake him up and, second, why he was still home.

Blaine hurried down the stairs, book bag in hand and jogged into the kitchen to grab a piece of toast to eat on the way to school.

"Blaine, you aren't going to need that."

Blaine stopped and turned around to face his father. 

He quirked an eyebrow and held his piece of toast in the air in front of his open mouth.

"This?"

His father shook his head and pointed to the book bag.

"That."

 He crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. Something, had Carl Anderson stressed out.

"Dad, are you okay?" Blaine asked gently, trying to make sure it was something that his father wouldn't yell at him about.

The older man took his glasses off of his face and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"Son, there is something I need to tell you." Carl stated firmly and pointed to a chair. "Take a seat."

Blaine was already late for school, and his father most definitely knew that. He was always making sure Blaine was on top of all his school work and never got a tardy slip. Though over the past couple days, he's been getting quite a few, but Mr. Anderson looked like he could care less about Blaine being late today.

Whatever it was that he was going to tell Blaine was going to be huge.

He looked at his dad, waiting anxiously.Finally, his father spoke.

"Blaine, there's been an...incident,"Carl began carefully, going to great lengths to avoid getting to the point, which was what Blaine wanted him to do.

"What...kind of incident, dad?" Blaine prodded.

Carl sighed deeply and perched his glasses back on top of his nose.

"A boy in your school- your grade,  actually- he's passed away."

Blaine's heart stopped for a good 5 seconds.

His eyes widened and his breathing became erratic.

He was unable to think anymore, but he had one last question for his father. Blaine wished it would be a different answer then the one his brain was screaming. 

"W-wha..." he cleared this throat."... Who was it?"

His father closed his eyes and let a name slip off his lips.

"David Karofsky, did you know him?"

Blaine's world was set atilt, he gripped the edge of the table and hoisted himself up off the chair, legs shaking and heart pumping so loud and fast, he swore his father could hear it.

He mustered up all the strength his body had left and sprinted up the stairs and into his room, he ignored his father's calls for him and collapsed on his bed, drowning out the outside world with a pillow he had pressed hard up against his face.

Blaine liked it like this.

Unable to speak.

Unable to smell.

Unable to hear.

Unable to breath.

Unable to live.

He wanted to die.

Blaine shoved the pillow into his face even harder as he felt a dizziness creep over him.

His mind was stuck thinking about Kurt, knowing that everything he once believed to be imaginary was incredibly true.

The kissing, the bleeding, the name calling, the snapping, the head rolling down the walkway.

Everything.

Just when he was about to drift off, somebody shook him, incessantly, and kept shaking him until he was rolled over onto his back.

He saw the blurry face of his father, his mouth opening and closing but he couldn't hear any sounds.

Behind his father's head he saw something, a white light.

No, a figure. 

He tried to blink, but everything was still so damn foggy.

It came closer, and Blaine recognized it.

It was Kurt, smiling and looking over his father's shoulder at Blaine, curiosity twinkling in his eyes.

The last thing Blaine remembers before blacking out was the sound of him screaming.

-------------------------------------------

The room was filled with bright lights, blinking and scanning the room.

There were people, people everywhere.

Dancing, talking, and drinking.

 Not one of them was looking at him.

There was loud music playing, a song Blaine wasn't familiar with, but everybody else seemed to know it.

There was screaming, a sound that nobody noticed, too caught up in the music to seem to care. However, Blaine looked over and saw a body fall to the ground. He walked closer, squinting, trying to get a better look at the person, but instead saw a person emerging from the crowd, one that Blaine actually recognized.

With his black eyes gleaming in the intense lights of the room, there was Kurt, wiping his mouth of what looked like blood.

Probably from that boy who had just collapsed to floor.He caught his eyes, smiled and waved him over.

Blaine walked over, incapable to control his actions.

Kurt snatched Blaine's hand and pulled him onto the crowded dance floor.

 He pressed Blaine flush against his body, and Kurt starting moving slowly to the music. The demon starting singing softly into Blaine's ear.

He's a maneater,

make you work hard, make you spend hard

Make you want all of his love

He's a maneater,

make you buy cars, make you cut cards

Wish you never ever met him at all

Kurt smirked and ground into Blaine.

He let out a squeak and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder.

He continued singing, the lyrics sounding strangely similar to the situation Blaine was in.

And when he walks he walks with passion

When he talks he talks like he can handle it

When he asks for something boy he means it

Even if you never ever see it

Kurt grabbed Blaine's face and attacked it with his lips, licking at his bottom lip, eliciting a moan from Blaine as he recuperated.

 Kurt placed kisses on Blaine's jaw and down onto his neck.

‘You wish you never ever met him all' Playing over in his head, as Kurt bit down on a soft spot on his neck, drawing blood.

Blaine whimpered and tried to pull Kurt back up, but he wouldn't budge, instead Kurt bit down harder, causing blood to spray out of his neck and into Kurt's mouth.

Blaine looked around desperately but nobody seemed to be aware of his predicament.

He cried out, wishing he'd never met Kurt at all.

--------------------------------

Blaine woke up sweaty for the second time that day.

His hand flew to his neck, feeling nothing but soft, unmarred skin.

He sighed in relief before realizing where he was.

He was sitting in a hospital bed, his father sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking at him worriedly.

Around him was a plate of food that was untouched and an IV attached to his arm.

Before Blaine had the opportunity to ask his father what happened, a nurse came in and grinned at Blaine.

"Hello, sweetie! My name is Tina. I'm glad to see you've woken up!" 

Blaine's eyebrows knitted together, and he nodded.

"You look a little confused, fella!" she giggled and touched his leg, causing Blaine to twitch a little.

"Your dad said something about a death of a friend. What a shame. I'm sorry for your loss, sweetie. You were brought in here after you passed out. Poor thing, you must have felt so scared."

 Suddenly, Blaine felt like he wanted to pass out again, and he nodded once at the nurse, whose big doe eyes bored into his kindly.

Everything that happened came rushing back into his head. He put his head quietly back on the pillow, the nurse on his left quickly taking the IV out of his arm.

"Your dad signed the forms, so you are free to go anytime you feel comfortable." Tina informed him softly.

His dad smiled a bit and cleared his throat.

"We have been invited to the funeral, so you will not be attending school for the rest of the day. Alright?"

Blaine nodded, not even faintly wanted to go to the funeral of a guy that beat him up almost every day since the first day he arrived at McKinley.

------------------------------------

 A few hours later, Carl and his son were on the road, heading towards Gethsemani cemetery to pay their respects to David's family.

Blaine fidgeted with his tie and adjusted his dress pants, wanting nothing more than to turn the car around and head for home.

The radio was turned off, and the silence was deafening.

As of the past couple days, Blaine had hated silence because it allowed him to be alone with his thoughts, and that never ended up well for him.

Carl leaned over and gave Blaine a pat on the shoulder.

Blaine thought it was supposed to be encouraging, but it did the opposite of that.

His heart pounded and he rubbed his clammy palms together.

They pulled up outside the cemetery, and Blaine had to admit, even though it was gloomy outside, the cemetery was beautiful. It was covered with giant stones, green grass and colorful flowers, blooming everywhere. The white gates were shiny and smooth to the touch, the whole place smelled fresh, unlike the bodies rotting in coffins under his feet.Idly, he mused over how morbid his thoughts had become since he'd first met Kurt.

He followed his dad over to the crowd of people, including Finn Hudson, Noah Puckerman and Azimio Adams, they all looked close to tears, which was surprising to see on the faces of three jocks he thought didn't even cry when they were babies.

Dave's mother and father were giving a speech when Blaine joined the sea of people.

She was saying something along the lines of "Dave was a good friend to everyone, and always had great things to say.

Yeah. Right,  Blaine scoffed in his mind. The only great thing Dave Karofsky said to me was that my bowtie made a good slingshot, and that was before smacking me in the face with it twenty times.

Blaine knew he shouldn't be thinking these things about David- he was dead after all- but he couldn't help it. This kid gave him hell for nearly three years, and Kurt finally gave him what he had coming.

The speech brought a smile to his face but for all the wrong reasons.

He looked around for Kurt, knowing that, if he looked hard enough, he'd find him, and, sure enough, just a few rows of people over he stood, smirking at David's mom.

Kurt looked over at Blaine and cocked his head to the side.

Then, Blaine did something he'd thought he would never do in a million years.

He gave Kurt a thumbs up.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, a grin that could only be described as evil spread across his pale face, and he laughed.

Blaine knew nobody else had heard, so he didn't bother to look around.

He turned away from Kurt, put his hands in his pockets and kicked the ground lightly.

He wasn't even the slightest bit unsure anymore.

Blaine Anderson was losing his mind.