"I'm done."

Hummel's voice sounded off. Blaine frowned and lifted his forehead from the cool tile of the shower wall. What was he talking about? Hummel had come minutes earlier, so he couldn't be talking about that. Blaine turned, barely even wincing as he straightened his spine and experimentally clenched his ass.

Hummel tied off the condom, wrinkling his nose in disgust as come dripped out. Blaine took a moment to admire the pale, sharp angles of his lover's body. Lover - no, the word felt too intimate. They were nothing more than fuck buddies, stealing moments together in the locker room showers, nowhere else. Outside of the shower cubicle, Blaine never acknowledged the other boy's presence - not even after Hummel had fucked him so hard that Blaine had been unable to sit for the next day without wincing. Blaine liked it rough, liked losing himself to the sensation of surrendering control. There was barely ever foreplay between them, usually no more than Hummel stretching him or the occasional blowjob or handjob. It was emotionless.

It was exactly what he needed. Because Blaine couldn't be gay. He couldn't be, he couldn't fuck up his relationship with his family any further, couldn't give Bieste yet another reason not to play him as quarterback, couldn't just flip his entire world upside down. It was just temporary. Just Hummel.

"I'm done," Hummel repeated, his words leaking exhaustion. "No more, Blaine. I'm done with this." He gestured between them, and Blaine felt something inside him clench.

"You're not." Blaine let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. "You like... you need this as much as I do. Don't bullshit me, Hummel."

The taller boy shook his head, blue eyes softer than they'd ever been when looking at Blaine. "I'm not going to be your dirty little secret," Hummel responded quietly. "I'm sick of it. You need to come to terms with who you are, Blaine. Not for me, or for anyone else, but for you. Life is hard enough without denying your own self." He reached out and brushed fingers down Blaine's cheek, and it was too much - Hummel's crazy change of heart, his calling him Blaine, and he couldn't deal with it.

"Fuck you," he growled out, slapping Hummel's hand away and glowering at him. "I'm not a fucking pussy. I'm not like you." The words came out sounding more desperate than confident.

Hummel's entire stance stiffened. "Okay then," he finally replied, his jaw tightening. "You just keep telling yourself that when you remember how you moaned like a whore when I fucked you." He flung open the shower door and stalked out, head held up in outraged anger and so, so beautiful. Even more beautiful than when Blaine had first seen him, had first lusted after him and dreamed of him.

"Don't." The word slipped out before Blaine could stop it, and he wanted to slap himself for the tremor in his voice. "Don't do this, Hummel. We're- you and me, we have a good thing going, right? Why screw that up? You want everyone to know or something? You have some voyeurism kink or what?"

Hummel laughed without amusement. "You just don't get it, do you?" He dressed himself hurriedly, wrapping his scarf around his neck before turning to look at Blaine. His eyes were so sad.

"Goodbye."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Blaine exploded, rushing forward and wishing he could yank the other boy against him, crush their mouths together so that Hummel would just stop speaking, so that Blaine could steal those horrible words from his mouth and swallow them whole. But Hummel stepped back, shaking his head. His expression was determined.

"Good luck. With everything." And he was going, he was really walking away, his messenger bag pulled over one shoulder and his back so proud and straight and strong.

Blaine stared after him, left alone, naked and broken in the middle of the locker room.

"Don't go... Kurt."