A couple weeks when your baby brother is in the hospital with leukemia can feel like an eternity. The days dragged on, and somehow there didn't seem to be enough hours in the day.

Blaine continued going to classes, catching up on all of the work he missed when he had strep throat. When he wasn't in class, he was in the Cancer Center with Alex—(in the new private suite Alex acquired when a 7 year old girl passed away)—doing homework or napping or just getting to know his little brother.

It turns out that maybe DNA isn't so trivial after all, because Blaine was coming to find that he and Alex were very much alike. Granted, Alex was only 3 years old, and there were only so many things a college student could have in common with a toddler, but anytime Blaine would watch some of his favorite childhood movies with Alex or tell his favorite stories or bring some of his favorite coloring books, Alex would light up like Blaine was giving him the world.

Kurt had a lot to do with that. Blaine was reluctant to leave Alex's side even to go to classes, so Kurt would run to a video rental store for a kid movie Blaine requested, or a library for a children's book, or even the grocery store for ice cream (which Kurt snuck in for them). Really, Kurt was the picture of a perfect boyfriend. Anytime he could spare, he'd be right there with Blaine in that room. And in those instances where Blaine just wanted alone time to spend with his brother and get to know him, Kurt would leave with a smile on his face and a promise to call him that night before bed.

The only problem Blaine was having was with his parents. Of course, they were Alex's parents too, so if Blaine thought he was concerned enough to spend all of his time with Alex, Richard and Charlotte Anderson never even seemed to leave to go to their condo to sleep. It would make Blaine happy to see his parents care so much for their son if that care could be extended to both of their sons; the Andersons still insisted on treating Blaine as nothing more than a donor. Given the fact that he was potentially saving Alex's life, he had hoped they might be a little more gracious.

Though, if Blaine was honest with himself, that wasn't the only problem he was having.

But he didn't like to dwell too much on that. It was easier to focus on Alex. Aside from Kurt, Alex was the one good thing in his life that he could claim.

He'd been a match; he'd been able to donate his bone marrow and blood to help Alex. Surely, that had to be some kind of sign that Alex was going to be okay.

If he could just save his little brother's life, maybe he could redeem himself after all.

"Hey."

Blaine looked up to the voice and realized he'd been scrunched up in the chair, folded like a Japanese fan, lost in thought. He immediately stretched and rubbed his eyes as if he'd been sleeping and accepted the coffee being held out to him.

"Hey yourself," he replied, bringing his boyfriend's face down to kiss him.

Kurt gestured to the sleeping boy in the hospital bed. "How's he doing today?"

"Pretty good so far. But it's only noon and with his case and the treatment he's undergoing, it could change in a heartbeat."

"Have you seen Richard and Charlotte today?"

"They're at church praying for him, I think."

"Ah." Kurt settled down on Blaine's lap and wrapped an arm around his neck. "I didn't know your parents were religious."

"They're not; they'll just do anything if they think it has a chance of saving their son."

"Yeah, and where was that mentality when you were their son?" Kurt mumbled under his breath.

Blaine understood his resentment. Really, he did. He knew how mad he was at his own parents, how hard it was to watch them so distraught over this kid when they barely even acknowledged their first, but he could only imagine how that would feel if he was watching Kurt in the situation. To watch someone be so careless about someone he loved so much would hurt him just the same as it would hurt the person he loved.

"I try not to think about that. I'm here for Alex."

Soulmate kissed his temple. "I know you are. That just shows how much better you are than them. You're a good person."

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say how, yes, he wanted to save his brother, but a tiny part of him was doing this for his own selfish reasons; he just wanted to feel important again. He wanted to do one good thing in his life. Even if he screwed up with his parents, even if he screwed up with Trevor, with Michael, with everyone in his past, this at least he could do right.

But he could never admit that to Kurt. Not when Kurt had been so supportive through it all, holding his hand and getting him anything he requested and making sure he always had everything he needed. No, Kurt wouldn't understand.

Kurt was perfect.

Instead of saying any of that, he simply said, "Thank you."

Placated by Blaine's lack of argument, Kurt kissed his forehead and stood up. "I was going to go back to the dorm and work on my song. Do you need anything else?"

"Song? What song?"

Kurt hesitated, seemingly uncomfortable, before finally admitting, "My solo for the concert coming up; it's a mid-semester concert for music majors."

"I'm a music major. Why am I not a part of this?"

"Because I let all of the professors know that you had a family emergency and you had too much on your plate right now to try and add this to it."

Blaine stood up and crossed the room. "You had no right to do that. That's my education."

He couldn't help but feel a little angry. In the back of his mind, he knew Kurt was just trying to help, but with or without everything going on in his life he was still a music major at NYU, same as Kurt; he was still going to his classes and doing his work, making him every bit as much of a student as Kurt. So why was Kurt in a concert that was supposedly for all music majors, and Blaine wasn't?

"I thought I was helping," Kurt offered, making his way over to Blaine. He tried to wrap his hands around Blaine's arms, but Blaine took a step back; Kurt got the message and dropped his arms. "I didn't mean to make you upset. I just didn't want to add to everything you have going on right now."

"My brother's in the hospital undergoing cancer treatment. It sounds like a lot, but really, all we do is sit around all day waiting for the little numbers on his chart to change to things that no one in my family understands but that the doctors say is a good sign. I have hours of time that I just sit around doing nothing but stare at him. I could have been practicing for this concert."

"I just figured you might want to spend as much time as you could with hi—"

"Because he's dying?" Blaine spat. He shook his head and walked around Kurt, heading around to the other side of Alex's bed, where his usual chair sat. He looked at the way his tiny brother was curled up in a ball in the bed, covered so much with sheets that all you saw was that messy head of black curls, so much like Blaine's own. Careful not to wake Alex, he reached out a hand and touched the hair, then drew his hand back. "He's not dying. He's going to get better."

Kurt sighed across the room but didn't try again to be close to Blaine; what he did was worse. He stared at Blaine with such pity and sadness in his eyes, like Alex was already dead, and said, "That's what I told myself every day when it was my mom, Blaine. And I know how this feels, but—"

"But nothing, Kurt. You were 8 years old. Of course you thought she was going to get better, you didn't understand what was going on. I'm an adult; I've researched this, I've spoken at length with Dr. Pierson, I know his odds. He's going to get better."

"And if he doesn't—"

"He will."

"Blaine, I just want you to be prepared. This will be harder if you're not realistic and things don't work out as positively as you plan—"

"Knock, knock!"

Both Kurt and Blaine's heads immediately swiveled to see Laurel smiling sadly in the doorframe.

"Well, if it isn't my two favorite people in the entire world," she said, walking in the room and heading straight over to Blaine, wrapping him in her arms.

God, it felt good to be in her arms again. Blaine hadn't realized how much he truly missed Laurel, but now, he remembered; feeling her embrace, inhaling her scent, listening to her familiar heartbeat, he felt like he was home again.

"I'm glad you're here," he said into her hair.

"Me too, Blainers." She detached herself and offered a small smile to Kurt, opening her arms and stepping over to him. "I want a hug from you too, Kurtie." He obliged with a soft laugh, then let go and looked over at Blaine. Laurel read his face, then snapped her head around and read Blaine's face, then frowned. "Oh. I walked in on something."

Blaine shrugged. "It was nothing."

He caught eyes with Kurt across the room, and could tell that Kurt wanted to continue the conversation but not with Laurel present. So instead, Kurt settled for a show smile and fake happiness. "Yeah, it wasn't any big deal. I was just about to head out, anyway."

Kurt started towards the door and was just about to leave when Blaine stepped over and put his arm out, blocking the exit. His boyfriend looked at him quizzically before he used that arm to bring him over to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You're right. I just can't afford to think like that; not right now, at least. Thank you for the coffee."

"You're welcome. I'm here for you, sweetheart, you just have to let me be."

"I know." He pulled back and gave Kurt a tiny smile. "Let me know when the concert is. I want to watch my Soulmate perform, okay?"

Kurt nodded and blushed at the nickname. Blaine could see the hearts in his eyes and knew he'd effectively ended their fight.

"I'll call you later," Kurt told him.

"I'm counting on it."

With one last kiss on the lips, Kurt was out the door.

Blaine turned to Laurel, who was studying Alex in the bed. "Small, isn't he?"

"Compared to other children, yes, but in this family, not unusually so. He has your hair."

"Had you not seen him yet?"

She shook her head. "My first time meeting him and it's in a hospital bed. My new baby cousin."

Alex rolled over in his sleep, causing some of the blankets to fall and reveal his face, and the thumb he had stuck in his mouth. He looked like the cutest little kid Blaine had ever seen.

Watching Alex with his thumb in his mouth reminded Blaine of when he was a small child; he used to do the same thing all the time. He'd walk around with his hand to his face and his other hand dragging his blankey behind him, the blankey his parents had brought him home from the hospital in. They'd let him keep it until kindergarten when they said he was too old to be carrying a blanket around like some kind of toddler. They also told him only babies sucked their thumbs and if he wanted to go to real school he needed to start acting like a real person.

He wondered if his parents even still had his blankey.

As if the very thought of them conjured them up, his parents appeared in the doorway behind them. They didn't say anything, and Blaine wouldn't have even known they were there if it wasn't for the tell-tale clicking of his mother's heels on the tile.

"Hello, Laurel," his father greeted.

She refused to turn around but returned, "Hello, Dick."

One of the many things Blaine loved about Laurel was how she used the shortened version of his father's name, Richard, only because she knew she could get away with it even though she meant it in an entirely different context.

"My brother didn't inform me you were coming."

"I'm a full-grown adult; I don't tend to tell my daddy every time I go somewhere."

"A trip out-of-state is a little different, don't you think?"

"I don't recall you caring when it was Blaine going out of state for his show choir's competitions in high school."

No one had a comeback for that one.

Blaine had been waiting for his mother to march over and rip the finger right out of Alex's mouth as he slept, but nothing. He waited, and waited, and still no one made a move.

"How come you're not making him take his thumb out of his mouth?" Blaine asked.

His mother stared at Alex in the bed. "He's a child, Blaine. That's what children do."

Why was it that his parents were so different with Alex? With Alex, it was like they were model parents; they got him the best care when he was sick, they made sure he got the best preschool education, they let him do all of the little kid things that Blaine was never allowed to do. Where did Blaine go so wrong as a child as to have them treat him the way they did, and Alex the total opposite?

Maybe he was just born a failure. The second he shot out of his mother's body the doctor said, "Oh, this one's no good. You might as well just start from scratch." Because that's all Blaine was; a mess-up.

There was a rule about that. Something with pancakes. Like, if you're cooking a batch of pancakes, the first one always sucks, but all the ones after that are perfect. Blaine was the first pancake.

"I have to go," he said suddenly, taking one last look at Alex before gathering up his homework he'd been working on and the untouched coffee Kurt had brought him. He hugged Laurel again and gave her a quick, "Call you later," before brushing past his parents without another word.

He was heading down the hall, almost to the elevators when—

"Blaine, wait," Laurel called out.

Pause. Turn. "What?"

"Hey," she panted, halting to a stop from running down the hall to him. "I just wanted to make sure you're doing okay with all of this."

"I'm doing great, Laur. Thanks for asking. I'm totally fine with the brother I never knew I had dying before I have a chance to get to know him. I'm peachy keen with the parents that abandoned me to suddenly reappear in my life and seemingly never leave. I'm so fantastic right now it's crazy."

She sighed. "I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Sarcasm. One of your many defense mechanisms."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he spat, scoffing.

"Yes, you do. Look, I know things aren't good right now, but you shouldn't push everyone away."

"I'm not pushing anyone away. I was just getting away from Richard and Charlotte. I mean, can you really blame me? I just wanted to go back to my dorm and do homework. That's all."

"And that fight with Kurt?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

And that was one of the things Blaine didn't like so much about Laurel; she was painfully observant.

"It wasn't a big deal. Things are tense right now with Alex, but Kurt and I are fine. He's helping me work through it and I'm letting him, alright? Get off my case."

"Blaine, I really think that—"

He cut her off. "I know exactly what you think, Laur. I know you well enough to know what you would want me to do in any given situation, but that's not always what I want to do. And you know what? I'm on my own now, at college, as an independent adult, and I get to make those decisions now."

Laurel's face fell with the weight of hurt pulling it down. "I didn't mean to boss you around, Blaine. I was going to say that I think you're handling this well given the circumstances, but you can let yourself have an emotion about it. You feel so…detached."

She was right; of course she was, because that was his whole goal. All Blaine wanted to do was look at this from an outsider's perspective until things were definitely going to get better. He just couldn't let himself get emotionally invested if things didn't turn out well.

And of course, she hadn't meant to boss him around. Laurel cared about him, loved him deeply, and was checking on him to make sure he was okay despite the situation he was in. Undoubtedly she knew how hard this was for him and was trying to read his face to know if he needed more help than he let on.

All of this Blaine knew logically, but in the moment with his emotions doing whatever the hell they wanted, the only thing he could focus on was getting out of that damn, depressing Cancer Center.

"I appreciate your concern," he said, trying to sound genuine and not annoyed, "but I'm not the one you should be worried about right now. Go see Alex, wait for him to wake up so you can meet him properly. He's the one with leukemia, not me."

"Blaine—"

"I mean it. Go."

He gestured an arm to the hall behind them, vaguely pointing at Alex's room, and attempted what he hoped was a soft expression. The last thing he needed was Laurel and her antenna shooting up to monitor his every move.

"Fine," she relented. "But I'm dropping by your dorm later."

"Hayden Hall, room 211. Kurt's room is 317 if you felt like you needed to drop by there as well."

"Probably not, but good information to have. Thank you."

"I'll see you later."

He headed down the hall in the direction of the elevator to take him downstairs and outside. Finally, he was going to be able to leave what was slowly becoming his least favorite place on earth and head back out into the streets of New York City, then to his dorm. With any luck, Carter would be there, and maybe Jonathan. If Jonathan was there, maybe he could hook him up with a party tonight.

Because with Alex and his parents and Laurel and Kurt all coming at him from every different direction, Blaine just really needed to get drunk.

"Blaine."

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Alex's doctor coming towards him. Fuck, couldn't he just get out of here? Person after person was keeping him from leaving. This place was starting to feel like a prison even more today. "Heading towards Alex's room?" he asked.

Dr. Pierson nodded. "I'm going to check on his status today, go over his vitals."

"Is the treatment working?"

"Well, we haven't seen any improvements yet, but his condition hasn't worsened either, which is a good sign. It might take a little longer to tell. Usually we would have seen progress by now, but I wouldn't start worrying yet."

"Yet. But I might have to?"

The doctor didn't answer, but his face said it all. The fact that he hadn't seen progress yet wasn't a good sign.

With a sigh, he muttered a quick "Thank you," and swerved around Dr. Pierson, hopefully to leave if people stopped deciding to hold him captive there.

So that was it. Alex wasn't getting any better. No matter how hard Blaine tried, he could never do anything right. His kid brother was going to die before he even got to have a life because Blaine couldn't even manage to donate his bone marrow correctly. Apparently, it was in his bones to be a failure.

Pun ruefully intended.

…

Instead of going straight back to his dorm, Blaine decided to just walk around. He was familiar with a certain area of NYC by now, and if he kept to that area he most likely wouldn't be mugged. It was only early afternoon on a Sunday, and since he didn't have classes, and thanks to Kurt no concert to prepare for, he had nothing but time.

He took the opportunity to walk around the streets of New York, enjoying the sun on his face and cool air on his skin. The weather now was making him regret leaving his jacket at that frat party a couple weeks ago; maybe he could get Jonathan to return it to him. Or he could get it himself tonight if he was lucky enough that the Delta Phi's were in the partying mood on a Sunday night.

For now, though, he was content to be cold. It was a feeling of physical discomfort, a reminder that he was alive.

After he wandered the streets for about an hour and a half, he wound up back at his dorm room. Carter wasn't there after all, or Jonathan, but Kurt was.

"Uhh…" It wasn't that Blaine wasn't happy to see his boyfriend, but he was a little thrown off by the fact that he had seemingly broken into his dorm room.

"Carter let me in. He just left about 10 minutes ago," Kurt explained, not even looking up from where he was typing away on his laptop at Blaine's desk.

Blaine nodded and came over to the desk, setting his homework down beside Kurt's laptop. "I thought you were going to rehearse for that concert."

"I did for about an hour. Then I headed over to your room to wait for you. Did you see Dr. Pierson?"

"Briefly in the hallway."

"What did he say?"

He hesitated. If he told Kurt exactly what the doctor said, then Kurt would give him this eyes full of pity and that annoying look he'd taken on recently of "I've been there, I'm sorry for your loss." But Alex wasn't dead. He was still alive, still getting better; at least, he would be soon. He just needed more time.

"Not much," he finally said. "We're still giving the treatment more time to take effect."

Kurt didn't respond and had still not looked up from his computer, so Blaine placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at the screen. "What are you up to?"

The laptop was quickly slammed shut. "Nothing," Kurt replied, smiling up at Blaine; the picture of innocence.

Blaine was suspicious, but let it go. If he was going to be able to get out tonight, he needed to be on good terms with Kurt and put on a happy face to convince Kurt he was well enough to be left alone.

With Alex's condition and his parents constantly around, Kurt was walking on eggshells around Blaine, trying not to set him off. It felt like right after the Trevor Incident with Laurel, when she was so worried that every single thing she said or did would send him over the edge. Honestly, it got on Blaine's last nerve. He was a person, not a bomb.

"Okay," Blaine answered, returning the smile. They had an entire conversation with their eyes, acknowledging the fact that they weren't acknowledging a lot of things between them, but mutually deciding to address it later. "Do you want to take a nap with me? I'm sort of tired out."

Kurt smirked. "Can we have recess before naptime?"

He couldn't help it, he chuckled. Here they were ignoring all of the problems they had going on right now, both of them having just returned from a cancer center, and Kurt was trying to seduce him.

But Blaine had to admit, he had a pretty hot boyfriend, and the way Kurt was trailing his fingers up and down Blaine's side was definitely working in favor of recess.

"I think some playtime can be arranged. How long is Carter going to be gone for?"

"He didn't give me a definitive time, but he said he was going to a study group for a test he has tomorrow, so chances are we've got a while."

Blaine pulled Kurt up from the chair led him over to the bed.

"Perfect."

…

Three hours later, half of that playtime and half of that naptime, Blaine awoke to a door slamming and Carter shouting, "What up, bitches?" A second later came a more exasperated statement. "Come on, guys. You could've at least put a rubber band on the door."

Confused, Blaine sat up—(just clearing the ceiling because of his short stature). He and Kurt were just sleeping, so how did he know they'd been up to anything else? Did the room just smell like sex?

Then Blaine felt the breeze from the air vent in the room hit his chest and he looked down to realize that he and Kurt hadn't actually managed to put their clothes back on. And Kurt was lying next to him on his stomach, the sheets so low half his ass was exposed. Blaine snatched the edge of the blanket and drew it up to Kurt's neck, who had somehow slept through Carter's outbursts and was still snoozing. Once he was sure Kurt was covered, he looked down at his own lap to make sure he was sufficiently hidden.

"Kurt, get up," Blaine said, nudging Kurt's shoulder. Kurt just groaned and curled in on himself with his back to Blaine. "Sorry," he added to Carter. "We just kind of fell asleep. We were pretty exhausted."

"Yeah, I bet. Just put some clothes on, okay? I'll run down the hall and get a snack from the vending machines to give you two time to get presentable."

"Thanks."

"Hurry up. I've been studying my brains out and I just want to play mind-numbing video games for a few hours."

Blaine huffed and threw a pillow at Carter as he shut the door behind him. Now that they were alone again, Blaine pulled the blanket down a bit and slowly kissed his way down Kurt's spine, pressing his lips to each vertebrae. Kurt began to stir a little, flattening out on his stomache again, but refusing to make any move to actually get up. So, Blaine continued his trail, reaching the curve of Kurt's lower back and just nuzzling the area there. That was one of his favorite parts of Kurt's body, that little dip on his lower back. It was such a feminine feature, but somehow on Kurt it was undeniably sexy and masculine.

"Mmmh," Kurt sighed, reaching a hand up blindly and colliding his palm with Blaine's bare chest. "I'm too tired for round 4, Blaine. Can't we just sleep?"

Blaine chuckled and pressed one last kiss to Kurt's back before sitting up straight again. "We have slept, love. For over an hour. It's time to get up now. Carter gave us 5 minutes to get dressed."

Kurt's eyes shot open. "Carter came back?"

"Yes."

"And saw us?"

"Yep."

"Naked?"

"The sheet was covering up most of me; your ass, however I can't say the same for."

"Oh my God," Kurt sighed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up beside Blaine. "I'm mortified."

"You'll be even more mortified if we don't get out of bed now and put on some clothes."

Kurt nodded, so they both climbed down the ladder and retrieved their clothes from the random places they'd thrown them in their hurry to take them off. After a minute or so, Blaine was fully clothed, but turned to find Kurt still searching for his shirt.

"Do you remember where my shirt went?"

Blaine scratched his head. "Did you take it off or did I?"

"I think it was you."

Hmm. He looked around, crouched down and searched under Carter's bed, then straightened up and looked on Carter's bed, did a quick sweep of the room with his eyes, but nothing.

Carter opened the door, eyes shielded, and closed it more softly behind him. "All covered up, boys?"

"Almost," Blaine answered, "But you can open your eyes. Actually, you may be of some help. We're searching for Kurt's shirt."

The hand was lowered from Carter's face as he peaked out wearily, wanting to make absolutely certain they didn't relive the moment from a few minutes prior. Satisfied with their level of coverage, Carter nodded and threw himself on his bed. "Where'd you put it?"

Blaine and Kurt shared a look, then both shrugged. "Blaine threw it somewhere."

"Sorry." He scanned the room again and caught what looked like might be the red of Kurt's shirt sticking out of his trash can. He walked over to it and peered down, fishing it out with a triumphant smile. "Found it."

Kurt's eyes bugged out of his head. "My shirt was in your garbage?"

"I don't really think there's that much stuff in there, aside from papers—"

"You've thrown up in that trash can, Blaine! Oh my, God. This is disgusting. I can never wear that shirt again. What am I supposed to do? Oh, just put it back in the trash can. I'm not wearing it again."

Blaine rolled his eyes and folded it, tossing it in his laundry basket. "I'm going to wash it and when you come to your senses it will be in my closet waiting for you. Alright?"

"I'm never wearing that again, but if you insist on keeping a piece of garbage, far be it from me to stop you."

Carter sighed. "Could you two stop fighting about clothes and move out of the way so I can play my games now?"

"Sure," Blaine said, stepping away from the television. He picked up the pillow from the floor where he'd thrown it at Carter and set it on his bed. Then he turned to Kurt and laughed, seeing how he'd wrapped his arms around himself. "Cold, dear?"

"I'm fine," Kurt snapped. Blaine gave it 3…2…1… "What am I supposed to wear now, hmm? That was Calvin Klein, Blaine. That was a high quality shirt. Now I don't have it anymore. One of my favorite shirts… And how am I supposed to get back to my dorm now without a shirt on? People will be staring at me."

"It's fine, you're hot. I wouldn't worry about it," Blaine replied, smirking.

Kurt fixed him with a look. "This is not a laughing matter, Blaine. A $55 shirt and it's wasted now."

"Why aren't you wearing an undershirt?" Carter asked, getting up to turn on the console and retrieve the controller.

"Because someone keeps losing them," Kurt remarked, staring pointedly at Blaine.

Blaine put his hands in the air. "It's not my fault. I can't be held accountable for my actions when I'm trying to get your clothes off. That's a completely unfair thing to do. I have no control in those situations."

Carter snorted and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Well, now that I'm sufficiently freezing, I'm going to go back to my room and put on a shirt and then try to get some work done."

Sans explanation, Blaine turned to his closet and opened the door, rummaging around in the box on the floor of his closet until he found what he was looking for. He had a whole box full of clothes he didn't wear but might come in handy eventually. Aha, there it was. Why he hadn't thought to use it for himself given that he'd lost his jacket was completely lost on him, but Kurt needed it more, so he crossed the room and held it out to him.

Kurt eyed it like it was a snake about to bite him. "What is that?"

"It's my Dalton hoodie. You're complaining about being cold and people seeing you, so I figured you could wear it just to get to your dorm. I know your fashion sense is a little more refined than this, I don't expect to see you in it all the time. It's merely a means of transportation."

The look in Kurt's eyes softened and he smiled up at Blaine, taking the hoodie. "I've never worn my boyfriend's jacket before."

Blaine laughed. "Here's your opportunity. Put it on and go to your room and do whatever it is you need to do. Then you can call me later like you promised to earlier."

His boyfriend slipped the hoodie on then stared down at himself somewhat in awe, eyes shining. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

"God, I'm going to throw up," Carter said. "Just leave already."

The couple made eye contact and rolled their eyes together, then smiled and leaned in for a kiss. "What are you going to get up to tonight?" Kurt asked.

Blaine hesitated, because his previous desire to go get drunk had not gone away, so he planned to go out and get wasted. But he knew Kurt wouldn't approve of this, so he lied.

"Oh, nothing much. Maybe do a little homework, play a few rounds with Carter on Modern Warfare. I'm sure I'll find something."

"Sounds like a plan. I love you."

"I love you, too."

With one last kiss, Kurt gathered up his things and left. The second he was gone, Blaine started formulating his plan.

Chances were, there wouldn't be a frat party tonight. He knew that. He was fooling himself if he thought they'd throw a party on a Sunday night. But he did still have that fake ID from when he and Kurt went to Scandals…maybe he could find another gay bar in New York and use the fake ID to get some alcohol. In fact, that might be even better. He wouldn't have to deal with Jonathan or anyone he knew getting in his way.

He could be free.

He checked the time on his phone and frowned. It was only 5 o'clock. There was no way any clubs would be open at 5 o'clock. Unless…he could always just go to a liquor store, buy some alcohol, and drink it on his own. Why did he need a party or a club to drink? His fake ID and the cash in his wallet were enough to get him drunk. He didn't even need to worry about all of that other stuff. The only thing that mattered was him and the alcohol. Everything else was just extra.

Then that's what he would do. His plan was set. He'd buy some alcohol, brown bag it, find a nice deserted park to sit at and drink until he couldn't remember why he'd started.

Wonderful.

"I'm going to go out," he announced, grabbing his keys and his wallet.

Carter continued playing the game but asked, "Where to? I thought you told Kurt you were going to work on your homework."

"Yeah, I am, I just uh…I'm going to get some more snacks. We're out. If I'm going to study, I want to eat while I'm doing it."

"Whatever. Make sure you get some Cool Ranch Doritos. Those things are the shit."

"Sure, yeah. I'll be back whenever."

"Okay."

Too easy.

…

On his way to the liquor store, Laurel had texted him asking if they could have dinner together that night. He sent back a quick excuse about homework and just staying in his dorm with a cup of Instant Ramen, but an offer to do lunch the following day. She bought it in a heartbeat and even tagged a smiley face on the end of her message.

God, it was easy lying to her. In fact, it was easy lying to Carter and Kurt as well. In the back of his mind, Blaine thought vaguely how he should probably be concerned with the fact that it was so easy to lie to those he loved; but then he found a liquor store and all other trains of thought vanished.

After all, getting drunk was the only thing that mattered right now. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

He went in, bought a bottle of tequila with only one strange look from the cashier, and was back out on the streets.

Santana would be so proud.

He found an empty bench in front of a drug store and sat down, unscrewing the cap in the bag and lifting it to his mouth. The alcohol burned the back of his throat on the way down. He had to squelch the desire to spit it right back out. After another 20 seconds, he lifted the bottle again and took another sip. Still as bitter as the first time, but he knew with the more he drank the less awful it would taste. So he kept taking little sips.

And then, eventually, it didn't feel so bad.

Initially, he had been worried about just drinking out in the street on New York where there was a constant stream of people buzzing past him. But that was just the thing; in New York, no one really cares about you. The only thing any New Yorker cares about is themselves, so they basically ignored the fact that he even existed at all.

He was very used to that feeling.

On that note, he took a much bigger sip.

About 20 minutes had passed, he was guessing, and he'd drunk about a quarter of the bottle, if his squinting into the bag was any indication. Not nearly enough. He was feeling pretty warm, but he needed more. He could still feel the pain of Alex, of Richard and Charlotte, of who he was, of who he would never be.

He graduated from sips to gulping.

Ten minutes and another quarter later had Blaine almost falling off of the bench his brain was so out of it. The world was swirly and people were just blurs of color and this is what he'd been hoping for; at least, he thought. He was a bit too drunk to figure out what it was that he wanted after all.

When one of the colorful blurs started calling his name, he told his eyes to focus and tried to figure out who was coming towards him. Whoever it was had a group of colorful blurs with them, about 3 or 4 he guessed. The blur approached him and Blaine realized with a pang that it was Kurt.

Shit.

"Blaine? That is you. What are you doing?" Kurt plopped down on the bench beside him and, as Blaine's eyes focused in, he noticed Kurt staring at the brown bag in his hand. "What is that?"

Blaine shrugged. "My birthday present to myself."

"Your birthday is in December. Give me that."

Kurt reached out to try to grab the bottle, but Blaine only gripped it harder and ripped his arm out of the way, nearly hitting someone in the process. They fought for it for a moment before it slipped out of Blaine's hands and fell onto the ground, the glass inside shattering.

"Kurt!" Blaine gasped. "That cost me…money!" He really couldn't remember how much it cost. "That was expensive!" He was assuming.

His boyfriend leaned towards him and sniffed the air near his mouth. "Alcohol. That's really great, Blaine."

"It is, actually. So you can go hang out with your buddies and leave me to go buy some more," Blaine spat, gesturing to the army of thousands Kurt had behind him.

As if he just remembered he was with them, Kurt turned to the 3 people who were suddenly looking extremely uncomfortable. One of them joked awkwardly, "So, this is the boyfriend."

Kurt sighed. "I'm really sorry about this, guys. He's just going through a lot right now. Go on and have dinner without me, I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Sure thing. I hope he feels better," another one said.

"Thanks."

They left shooting sympathetic glances at Blaine, giving him a wide girth and avoiding the broken glass on the ground that had escaped the paper bag it was previously encased in.

"We're leaving," Kurt announced, tugging Blaine to his feet.

Blaine stood but pulled himself out of Kurt's grasp with a grimace. "No we're not. You leave. Catch up with your buddies and have dinner like you were planning to and leave me to my plans."

"Oh, your plans? You sat around and planned to go out and drink cheap liquor on the street?"

"You know what? I did. I thought briefly about a frat party since that's what I normally do, but I figured there wouldn't be one on a Sunday, so I was going to go to a club. But it was only 5 in the evening and I didn't think they'd be open yet so I just decided, hey, what do you need all of that for, Blaine? Just go buy yourself some liquor and drink it on your own. Everything else is just a distraction from the alcohol anyway, and that's what you're really after."

"Very sensible, Blaine. I'm so proud of you for figuring all of that out. You are just making me so proud to be with you right now."

He scoffed and shoved past Kurt, heading in the direction from which Kurt came. The only reason he even went that way was because he figured if Kurt came from that way, that must be where the dorms are, and now all he wanted to do was collapse and sleep and get away from all of this. Because tonight, not even the alcohol was working.

"You're too drunk to even know where you're going," Kurt called, jogging up behind him to catch up.

"I'm going where I want to go and it's of no concern to you."

"Of course. I'm only your boyfriend. Nothing you do is a concern to me at all. It doesn't bother me at all that you're lying to me now so you can go buy liquor with a fake ID and get drunk on the street."

Blaine didn't respond. He just kept walking, making sure there was sufficient space between him and Kurt. Now was not the time for hand-holding as they strolled casually through the streets of New York.

"I'm worried about you," Kurt sighed. "Don't you get that?"

"You're sure as hell doing everything you can to drive it into my skull so, yeah, I get that. Forgive me if I'm a bit too preoccupied with my dying brother to dwell too much on how you're worried about me."

If Kurt knew what was good for him, he'd just leave Blaine alone and go to dinner with his friends. Couldn't he see that Blaine wanted to be left alone? If he wanted to be around Kurt right now, he would have invited him out with him to get drunk. But no, he made sure to lie to his boyfriend so that he could do this. He lied to Kurt, he lied to Carter, he lied to Laurel. This was not an accidental occurrence. He just wanted to be able to sit alone and drink. Why was that so much to ask for?

Blaine didn't realize he'd spoken any of this until Kurt replied, "Because the people in your life, like me and Carter and Laurel, care too much about you to leave you alone and let you drink your pain away. That's why you had to lie to us. Because you knew deep down that it was wrong and you knew we love you too much to let you do that to yourself if you'd given us any say in the matter."

They were still walking down the street and Blaine could see their dorm coming into focus. He had no idea he'd been so close to the dorms. Next time, he'll go a lot further so Kurt doesn't interrupt.

"The dorms are right there. We're going to continue this discussion when we get there. Until then, don't talk to me, because I don't want you saying something I know you'll regret in the morning," Kurt told him.

"Whatever."

Regardless of the fact that Blaine would love nothing more than to talk for the rest of their walk to the dorms just to spite Kurt, he remained quiet, because he just didn't have anything else to say. Kurt was the one who wanted to talk. All Blaine wanted to do was drink.

Finally, they made it to the dormitory building and up the one flight of stairs to Blaine's room. He was hoping that they could just go in and Carter would just ignore them and he could just climb up to his bed and sleep, but life didn't always work out the way you want.

The minute he opened the door he regretted it. Because instead of coming face to face with Carter playing video games, he was greeted with the TV powered off and his parents standing awkwardly by his desk while Carter sat on his bed looking completely lost.

"Thank God you're here," Carter muttered, standing up. "Your parents came."

"I see that," Blaine said, eyeing his parents in the corner. "What do you want?" he asked them.

"Alex was asking for you," his mother explained. "He wanted you to read him one of those books you keep bringing him. Something about penguins."

"And Tango Makes Three. That's what the book is called," he answered.

"Yes. That one. I haven't read it, but he's asking for you to read it to him. And as you well know, what an Anderson wants, an Anderson gets."

Blaine scoffed. "That's funny, Mom. I don't remember wanting to get beaten and thrown out, but that's what I got from Dad while you just sat there."

"Blaine," his father reprimanded, "there are other listening ears in the room."

He turned back to Kurt behind him and Carter beside him. "Yeah, and they both already know about that so I don't see an issue."

His mom sniffed the air around him and frowned. "Blaine, you reek of alcohol. Where have you been?"

"That's not really any of your business anymore," he said.

"Oh, that's very mature," Richard remarked, looking at Blaine as if he was a homeless person he was that low. "Going out to get drunk when you're underaged. You must think you're so cool."

"Sure, Daddy Dearest. That's why I go drink. To feel cool. You must think you know me so well."

"On the contrary. I don't know you at all. You're no son of mine."

"Was I ever?"

His father sighed. "What happened was 4 years ago now, Blaine. Don't you think it's about time to grow up and get over that?"

"Yeah, Dad. Let me just get right on with my life. It's not like I needed parents or anything. It's not like I was just a little kid who wanted to be loved. It's not like I wasn't asking for you to break my ribs and kick me out of the house—"

"Damnit, Blaine!" his father roared. The whole room jumped, including his silent mother. Before Blaine could even register what was happening, his father had advanced on him and Carter had stepped back, out of the way of the dispute. "You were not this perfect little kid you make yourself out to be! You were a terrible child. You were always doing everything your mother and I asked you not to do. You never listened to either of us; all you ever did was cause trouble and break things and interrupt us when we were busy. When you got older, you intentionally defied us every chance you got. Then you came out to us as gay and you expected us to just accept that? It's disgusting, Blaine. You're disgusting."

"Oh yeah?" Blaine asked. He moved closer to his dad, standing on flat feet and only coming up to his father's neck but looking up into his father's eyes with as much courage as he could muster. "If being gay is so disgusting, what do you think about the book I've been reading to your other son?"

His father clenched his jaw, and his voice took on that low, menacing tone. "Excuse me?"

"Blaine, don't," Kurt said from behind him. Of course Kurt knew what the book Alex was asking after was about. He and Kurt had read it to Alex together.

Instead of listening to his boyfriend, Blaine said, "That book about penguins that Alex was talking about? It's about two male penguins who are mates and raising a baby penguin on their own. As a gay couple. It's a book designed to teach children that being gay is okay. And I've been reading it to your son. Over and over and ov—"

Smack!

The sound of his father slapping him across the face rebounded around the room, resonating in everyone's ears. He could hear his mother gasp, Kurt and Carter coming up to pull Blaine away from his dad before his dad could do anything else, but Blaine ignored it all. He did the only thing he knew how to do when he was drunk; he hit.

He swung his arm back and punched his father right in the eye, then lunged after him, hitting and punching anywhere he could get to. His father was trying to push him off, but Blaine had gotten strong over the years. He kept attacking until two sets of arms were grabbing either of his, pulling him back. He was lifted in the air and used this opportunity to start kicking, victoriously getting a good kick in to his father's stomache.

"Richard!" His mother shrieked, coming over to where his father was kneeling on the ground.

"Come at me again!" Blaine shouted, desperately trying to escape Kurt and Carter's grip. "Hit me one more time, Dad! Just one more time! Give me an excuse to go ape-shit on you! I dare you! Try me and see if I don't kick your pathetic fucking loser ass! You poor excuse for a father! Alex would be better off dying than having to live with you two!"

"That's enough, Blaine," Kurt cut in, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at him. "You're done. Got it? Done."

"Don't tell me when I'm done," Blaine spat, throwing his arms down to free them from the hands that were holding them. He walked over to where his dad was on his knees on the ground, his mother bent over beside him. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

His father was breathing heavily, obviously having the wind knocked out of him from when Blaine kicked him in the stomache. That and the swelling already happening at Richard's eye made Blaine elated.

"You were never a good person, Blaine. Never. And you never will be. This drunken mess of a person is all you'll ever be. You can't do anything right. You can't even save your own brother."

Blaine kicked his father in the stomache again, causing Kurt and Carter to drag him away all over again. "Yeah," he said, "How's that feel, Dad? How's it feel to be kicked in the stomache 'til you can't breathe?"

Just then, a loud, persistent knock sounded on the door, and all 5 heads swiveled in the direction of the door.

"Who is it?" Carter called out.

"Your RA," the voice called back. "Resident Assistant. I've had noise complaints about shouting. Is there a problem in there?"

Blaine stomped over to the door and threw it open. He looked the red-headed, freckled, gangly guy in his doorway and said, "No problem at all. My parents and I were having a little familial dispute, but they were just leaving."

Richard and Charlotte both stood up straight, even though Richard was still having trouble breathing, and headed for the door. The RA eyed them oddly but didn't say anything. As his parents passed him, Blaine muttered to his dad, "How's it feel now that the roles are reversed, Dad?"

His dad just fixed him with a solemn glare that said This isn't over and pushed past the nosey RA, finally leaving Blaine alone.

"Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?" the RA asked.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "No. Mind your own fucking business." He slammed the door before the RA had a chance to argue.

"If I find you with alcohol you could get kicked out of the dorms!" the guy shouted through the door.

Man, this kid just would not give up. Blaine shouted right back, "Good thing I don't have any, then! Goodnight!"

Footsteps were loud outside the door then faded, and Blaine took that to mean the RA had finally given up and gone back to his own room now that the disturbance was over.

He banged his forehead against the door and turned around with his eyes shut, sliding his back down the door until he was sitting on the floor, head in his hands.

Why did his father have to say all of those things? It was like his dad knew exactly how screwed up he was and was throwing it in his face. To hear it from himself was one thing, but to hear it from his dad was another. Unconsciously, he started crying, running his fingers into his hair and grabbing patches of it so hard his scalp was starting to scream in protest. He ignored it and pulled harder.

A hand fell gently on his forearm and someone knelt beside him. "Blaine, nothing your father said was true, okay?" It was Kurt. "He doesn't know what he was talking about. He doesn't know you at all. Just because he was an unfit father to you doesn't mean you were a bad child."

"Get out," Blaine said weakly, not looking up.

He felt Kurt start beside him. "What?"

"I said," he lifted his head and stared straight into Kurt's eyes, "get out."

"Wh-Why?"

"Because I hit my dad. And I don't trust myself not to hit you too."

Kurt opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, Blaine could swear he heard Kurt's heart breaking inside his chest at the statement.

But it was true. For the first time in years, he'd hit someone. He'd been so careful, save for the incident where he let Karofsky have it, but now he'd hit his father. It was coming back; he was coming back, that person he used to be. If he was still capable of attacking people, he didn't trust himself right now. And Kurt was the last person he wanted that to come out on.

"Blaine, I trust you. I don't think you're going to hit me," Kurt said.

He shook his head and wiped his eyes. "What do you want from me to get the message, Kurt? Do I have to actually hit you to make you understand that that's not out of the realm of possibility?"

"Blaine," Carter said, looking at him like he'd never seen him before. "What are you talking about?"

"I hit people," he explained. "It's kind of my thing. When I get drunk or angry, I lash out. I hit people. I thought that was in the past, but as you just saw, it's clearly not. So Kurt needs to leave."

"But—"

"But nothing, Kurt. He's right. If he's in danger of hitting you and he knows that, you need to leave. I'll take it from here, okay?"

Kurt stared at Carter, trying to see if he was serious or not, Blaine guessed. After a moment, Kurt just stood up and motioned to the door with his hand, silently asking Blaine to move. Blaine stood up and opened the door for Kurt, allowing his boyfriend to kiss him on the forehead on his way out. Kurt murmured an "I love you" and left.

Blaine was surprised Kurt had given up so easily. He must have seen something in Carter's eyes that made him believe he was in capable hands.

"Just go to sleep, man," Carter told him, collapsing on his own bed. "It's been a long day and you need to sleep off all that alcohol."

"It's barely 7 o'clock."

"Well I'm fucking exhausted, alright?"

Sure. Carter was exhausted. Blaine was the one with the brother in the hospital and going and getting drunk and getting into a fist fight with his dad. But sure. Carter was the one who was tired.

"Whatever. You don't even know the meaning of the word," Blaine grunted, climbing the ladder up to his bed.

"You know what, Blaine? Believe it or not, you're not the only one with a shitty life. Amanda's dad finally died today. So she's been having to deal with her 3 younger siblings who don't know how to function now that they don't have parents at all."

"They can take a page from my book."

"Your parents may be scum of the earth but at least they're still alive. There's still the possibility that they'll come around and be there for you. Amanda and Scotty and Thomas and Amelia, they don't have that anymore."

Blaine wanted to say that he was wrong. He wanted to tell Carter that there was absolutely no possibility that his parents would ever come around and be there for him. They hated him from the time he was a child and they still hate him now. The only reason they'd kept up this truce thus far was to save their good son. But now that they had the donation they needed from Blaine, they were free to express their true feelings. They'd gotten what they really wanted, and now they could go back to ignoring him and treating him like the garbage he was.

All of this he wanted to stay, but instead he curled up in his bed, wrapped himself tightly in the covers, and hugged the pillow that Kurt usually used when he slept over, trying desperately to convince himself that it felt like Kurt as he cried himself to sleep.