He needed Sebastian. He needed to be taught and guided and loved. Sebastian could be cruel and cocky at times, but Blaine didn’t care because he was just so head over heels in young love. But it was more than a simple teenage romance. They graduated and moved to New York, moved in together. It wasn’t long before Sebastian proposed, spur of the moment at a wedding reception. They were both blind drunk and Sebastian didn’t even have a ring, but in the morning they convinced themselves that it was still something they wanted to do.

They got married the following winter. It was a beautiful wedding, everbody had said so, and Blaine had been able to ignore the fact that his parents weren’t there because Sebastian was by his side, and that was all that mattered.

It turned out that married life was a little boring. Blaine had expected to feel a change, but the only difference was that one of the knuckles on his left hand now gleamed gold. They still had the same jobs and friends and routines. It wasn’t glamorous. They weren’t more in love. If anything things got worse.

Sebastian had always had a short temper, a lack of patience. Blaine had always been able to sooth him but now it seemed that Sebastian had had enough. He had even less of a filter than before, screaming profanities at Blaine whenever they argued, squaring up to him whenever things got heavy.

Blaine tried to ignore this change in his husband. This ignorance was going well until Sebastian hit him.

They were both drunk, and that seemed to pass as an excuse for the incident. Until it happened again. And again. And again, until it wasn’t unusual for Blaine to find himself pushed up against a wall during one of their spats. He didn’t tell anyone, mostly because he was ashamed. He was a grown, married man for Gods sake, not a bullied teenager. But that was how Sebastian made Blaine feel; like he was weak, hopeless.

But they’d said “I do” for a reason, and Blaine was determined to stay.

——

Blaine worked at a bar/restaurant called Sanky’s, where he doubled as a bartender and waiter. The pay was a little below reasonable but the tips were always generous. Mostly Blaine worked there because he wanted to be surrounded by people. He wanted to escape the feeling of claustrophobia and loneliness that he suffered at home.

At weekends Sanky’s housed bands and performers, mostly born and bred New Yorkers who were all following the same dream. Some of them were good, some of them made Blaine want to rip the napkins off the tables and shove them down his ears. But tonight was one of the better bands.

Blaine was approached at the bar by a petite girl with dark hair and a rather prominent nose. “Hi, my name is Rachel. I’m part of the New Directions,” she announced. Her voice wasn’t typical New Yorker. In fact it was the sort Blaine was used to listening at home.

“Er, right,” Blaine replied, wondering if he should know this girl.

Rachel looked at him as if he were mentally deficient. “So… what time shall we set up? This place looks pretty busy and we’d hate to knock somebody over the head with our drum kit.”

All of a sudden her words fell in to place. “Oh! You’re a band!” Blaine cried.

Rachel nodded with a little laugh. “Yeah. So, what time?”

“In about half an hour? Like you said, it’s pretty busy right now, but the place usually dies down after eight. The restaurant part, anyway,” Blaine explained.

“Great!” Rachel said, her face brigtening in to a smile. “I guess I’ll have five beers while we’re waiting then. I can take them outside, right?”

“Sure.” Blaine collected five bottles of beer from the refrigerators beneath the bar. Rachel paid for them and he watched her go.

At 8:15 the door flew open, there was a small bang and a shout, and Rachel was coming back inside, dragging with her two microphone stands. “Honestly Puck, are you incapable of carrying that set or are you going to drop it every time we set up?”

“I don’t see you trying to carry the heavy stuff,” a mans voice, sounded thoroughly tired and irritated, shot back.

Blaine watched as five people backed in to the room, accompanied by various instruments and speaker equipment. There was Rachel, who was the only girl except for a pretty blond who was rolling her eyes at everyone. The other three were all men. The one who Blaine guessed was Puck was muscular, with tanned skin and a dodgy mohawk. Behind him came a tall guy with a gormless expression and clumsy feet. The next person Blaine couldn’t take his eyes off. He was tall too, though not as much as the gormless guy, with carefully coiffed auburn hair and beautiful blue eyes. There was a slightly feminine look about him, and Blaine watched as he moved in to the room with grace.

“Where’s the stage?” this gorgeous stranger asked. His voice was soft and slightly high pitched. Blaine wondered what it sounded like when he sang.

“He might be able to tell you,” Rachel panted, jerking a thumb over at Blaine.

Blaine widened his eyes as the pretty girl walked over. “Is there a stage?” she asked in a slightly husky tone. She was peeking up at Blaine from beneath long eyelashes, smouldering as she smiled. Too bad Blaine didn’t swing that way.

“Uh. Over there,” Blaine replied. He pointed vaguely over to the other side of the room.

“Thank you.” She returned to her band mates, leading them over in the direction that Blaine had shown her. As they walked the blue eyed boy turned, and Blaine blushed as he felt himself being scalded by his gaze.

The New Directions were amazing. The tall guy played drums, the one with the mohawk played guitar, the blond haired girl danced around and sang in the background. Rachel was the female lead, but it was Blue Eyes who stole the show. He had a lovely, quite mesmirising voice that Blaine felt he’d be quite happy to fall asleep to each night. When the show was over Blaine felt a small sadness. He stacked up glasses as the bar emptied and the band packed up.

“Is there a bathroom?” The tall guy - Blaine recalled Rachel calling him Finn at some point - said as he approached the bar.

“Sure. Down the hall and to the left.” Blaine watched him go, turning back to finish off cleaning the bar.

“Hey,” a soft, already familiar voice sounded.

Blaine turned. Blue Eyes was staring right at him.

“Hi,” Blaine returned shyly.

“I’m Kurt.”

“Blaine.”

“So,” Kurt continued, leaning across the bar. “Why is a gorgeous guy like you working here, when he should be modelling for Marc Jacobs’ latest collection?”

Blaine fumbled with the glass he was holding. “Uh… just New York for you, I guess.”

Kurt smiled. His grin shone across his face like the sun, and Blaine had to look away before he became to enthralled by it. “What team do you play for?” Kurt shot bluntly. Blaine knew he wasn’t talking about football.

“I like guys, I guess,” Blaine shrugged.

“You guess?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. I do,” Blaine admitted.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, then Rachel called him over to help carry the microphone stands. “I’ll be right back,” Kurt gasped, turning to rush over. He disappeared out of the door, but two minutes later, true to his word, he was running back inside.

“I want to take you on a date,” he said.

Blaine jumped back. “What?” he spluttered.

“You’re the most attractive guy I’ve seen in a long while, and I’ll be damned if I’m just gonna let you go,” Kurt explained.

Blaine dropped his gaze to the floor. “I have a boyfriend. A husband, actually,” he corrected himself. There was a long pause.

“Oh… sorry. I didn’t mean-” Kurt began.

“You didn’t,” Blaine interrupted. “Don’t worry about it, honestly.”

Kurt nodded. “Well then. I guess I’ll see you around… Blaine.”

Blaine nodded back.

“I hope that husband of yours takes care of you. It’s a damn waste if not,” Kurt declared. He turned and, for what he thought was the last time, Blaine watched him go.