Surprising himself, Blaine actually awoke to his alarm clock. He hadn't been expecting to with how drunk he'd gotten the night before, but when his alarm clock went off, he felt strangely ready to start the day. Just not in a good way; more of in a way that he was ready for it to be over already. Something in his gut was just telling him that this was not going to be a good day for him.

"Turn it off," Carter groaned below; something about his roommate's voice told Blaine that he'd probably been awake for a while.

He sighed and reached a hand over to where his alarm clock was taped to the end of one of his bed posts. "Your wish is my command."

"Don't be snarky. I'm not in the mood today."

"That makes two of us."

The rest of the morning while Blaine showered, dressed, and gathered his books for class was spent in silence. Carter didn't have any classes today, so he just stayed in bed watching Blaine go about his morning routine. Everything just felt like a normal Monday morning, except that it wasn't.

Because Amanda's father had died.

Because Blaine's brother could die at any moment.

Death was knocking on everyone's door these days and Blaine wasn't too particularly happy about it.

Since that first phone call with Scotty months ago, he had made sure to text Scotty every day, just to let him know that someone was there for him even when the world was against him. Today felt different. Should he send a text expressing his condolences? It seemed a little cold to text someone that you're sorry they lost their parent. Blaine decided against it, instead sending off a quick I'm here for you. A message that he'd sent many a morning before, but he knew would take on a different meaning today.

Usually, Kurt would knock on his door around this time and they'd walk to class together; they didn't have the same class on Mondays, but they switched off who would walk who to which classroom. Today would normally be Kurt's turn to walk Blaine, but he never showed. Blaine gave it 5 minutes before deciding that Kurt wasn't coming and heading out, muttering a quick goodbye to Carter.

He wasn't exactly surprised that his boyfriend hadn't come that morning, but he wasn't pleased either. He knew he could be a dick when he was drunk but he'd thought it was mostly directed towards his father last night. The only reason Blaine asked Kurt to leave was because he saw what he was capable of, what he could do if Kurt happened to say the wrong thing. He was looking out for Kurt, trying to save him. He didn't want to make him angry.

No, Kurt probably wasn't angry; most likely, he was disappointed. Somehow, that was worse.

The first two of his classes passed quickly with Blaine attempting to pay attention but failing miserably. Mostly he just noticed the sympathetic looks his professors kept giving him; he must look especially awful today, and with their knowledge of Blaine's "family emergency" thanks to Kurt, assumed the worst. Whatever. It meant they left him alone and didn't call on him so he was fine with it.

Eventually, lunchtime rolled around, and Laurel texted him asking where they should meet up for lunch. He let her know that the caf food wasn't all that great and they should probably eat elsewhere, her pick. She said she'd spied a little Italian place not too far from campus that she'd thought was interesting enough to try and Blaine agreed. They met in front of his dorm building and walked the 5 blocks to get there in silence. Something about this day had everyone subdued.

Once they'd arrived and been seated, Blaine ended the quiet. "Have you seen him today yet?"

Laurel shook her head. "I was going to go to the center after lunch with you. How many classes do you have left today?"

"Just one. I could skip and go with you."

"No, no. Don't do that. You've already missed enough from when you had strep. You should go ahead and attend class; you can come see Alex right after."

"Alright."

A waitress came by to take their drink orders, interrupting the conversation. They perused the menu while she got their drinks, deciding on what they wanted before she came back that way when she brought their drinks she could take their meal order. She returned, handed them both the water they ordered, and took their orders for food, then disappeared with their menus to give their requests to the cook.

Finally, Laurel exhaled and looked at Blaine. "I'm not going to apologize for what I said to you yesterday."

Puzzled, Blaine met her eyes. "I didn't ask you to."

"Well I'm not."

"Okay then."

She fidgeted for a minute, stirring the water and ice around in her glass with her straw. "I saw Charlotte and Dick today."

"Mmm?"

"That's quite the shiner you gave him."

Blaine stiffened. "Who said I gave it to him?"

"Your reaction just now."

Crap. He really was an open book.

"Were you drunk?" Laurel asked.

He hated discussing these things with her, but he didn't want to lie again. "Yes."

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. "Blaine, why do you do that?"

"Because it's the only way I can let loose and not feel so trapped."

"Trapped how?"

"Trapped in this life, in my head, in my own mortality. I just need an escape sometimes."

Laurel rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that crap. You want an escape? Find a hobby. Crochet, knit, bake—"

"What am I, an 80 year old woman?"

"If it'll keep you from getting drunk to forget about your problems, yes. You can't keep running to alcohol every time something bad happens. That's how people become alcoholics, and you're too young. I don't want to see that happen to you, Blainers."

Of course she didn't. Who the hell wants to watch their 18—almost 19—year old cousin become an alcoholic? But Blaine didn't really see any other option.

"What does Kurt say about all of this?" she asked.

"What do you think?"

"I think he is probably hurting to see you hurting so much, and it hurts him even more that you turn to alcohol to fix that. Don't you care about his feelings in this at all?"

"You know I do," Blaine said fiercely, taking a huge gulp of water and trying to pretend it was alcohol.

"Then why aren't you doing more to stop yourself? You don't have to do this, Blaine. You have Kurt, you have me, you have that roommate of yours who is always butting in on our Skype conversations."

"Carter."

"Yes, him. You have a support system, and it doesn't have to be alcohol. Just promise me you'll at least try, okay? I know your world is kind of collapsing right now, but promise me you'll try to stop drinking."

Blaine sighed. That wasn't something he could do, and he was tired of lying. But he couldn't say that. Laurel wouldn't accept it. So he used his words to create a loophole.

What Blaine said: "I promise that I will try to turn more to my support system rather than the alternative."

What Blaine meant: "I promise that I will try to turn more to alcohol rather than you, Kurt, and Carter."

Because Laurel had said he had a support system, and it didn't have to be alcohol. But it could be if that's how Blaine wished to define it. And the alternative she was referring to was drinking, in comparison to leaning on loved ones. He just flipped it around.

His answer was sufficient enough to trick her, though. Blaine was a master with words.

"Good. I don't want to see you fall down into that place again."

"How long are you staying?" Blaine asked, changing the subject.

"Just until tonight. I could only manage to get off for today, but I have to fly back tonight and be at Dalton tomorrow morning. They weren't very accommodating of the family emergency since it wasn't immediate family."

That was awful. Blaine didn't think Dalton was that harsh, but maybe the rules were different for teachers and students. Still, it gave him the opportunity to drink tonight without Laurel hovering. And because she was leaving, she wouldn't have to see him fall down into that place again, because she wouldn't be around to watch it happen.

Kurt would though. And Blaine had to admit that he felt a little bad about that.

Their food arrived, so Blaine was able to distract himself from that train of thought by eating his tortellini. He and his cousin ate in silence once again, then Laurel paid for their food and they left. She kissed him on the cheek, told him she loved him, and they parted to go their separate ways.

After lunch, Blaine tried really hard to concentrate in his last class of the day. He focused on the professor, took good notes, just all around did everything he could to stay tuned in on this mundane material rather than his sick brother in the hospital. He was being such a good student, even, that he placed his phone on silent and stuck it in his bag for the hour and thirty minutes duration of the class.

It was nice to check out for a while in class, and Blaine thought that maybe he could give this sober thing a shot. Instead of getting lost in alcohol, he could immerse himself in classes and studying and music. Maybe he could keep his promise to Laurel in the way she intended.

There was a whole 5 minutes where Blaine thought, hey, I could change. He thought he really could live up to the man Laurel and Kurt wanted him to be. Then, he checked his phone, and his whole world stopped spinning.

7 Missed Calls from Laurel Anderson.

2 Missed Calls from Dick's Wife.

4 Texts from Laurel Anderson.

1 Text from Dick.

All through class his parents and his cousin had been trying to contact him. For a moment he tried to tell himself it was good news, but he knew that wasn't realistic. His parents would just leave it to Laurel if it was something good.

He shoved his notebook in his backpack and threw it over his shoulder, practically sprinting from the room as he began to thumb through his texts. They were all vague, but all expressing the sentiment that he needed to come to the Cancer Center. Now.

…

"What happened?" he demanded, bursting into Alex's room.

Alex was still in his bed, hooked up to machines that beeped, signaling that he was alive.

Everyone in the room—Laurel, Richard, Charlotte, and the nurse from the first day—all snapped their heads at the disturbance. Alex jumped a little, but when he noticed it was Blaine he smiled.

"B'aine," he rasped in that tiny, frail voice of his. "Hi."

Blaine rushed over to the bed and knelt beside Alex, taking the boy's tiny hands in his. "Hey there, little man. How are you doing?"

"I'm good."

"You're well," Blaine corrected, thinking of Kurt.

Whom he still hadn't heard from all day.

"I'll get Dr. Pierson," the nurse said, backing away looking uncomfortable.

Immediately, Blaine turned his attention from his little brother to the adults in the room, staring at the scene by the bed sadly.

"What happened?" he repeated.

The adults all exchanged glances then looked back at him. Laurel said, "We'll let the doctor tell you."

"Why can't you?"

"Because he'll explain it better."

Blaine was not happy with that answer, but it would have to do. So he climbed up on the bed beside Alex and scooped the boy into his lap, twirling his brother's curls on his fingers. That was something they'd started doing. When Blaine came to visit, he'd get some homework done, then get up on the bed and hold Alex, running his fingers through his hair, until the boy fell asleep.

Except this time, Dr. Pierson appeared in the door before Blaine had a chance to lull him to sleep.

And everyone knows that when a doctor shows up in a timely fashion, it's never a good sign.

"Blaine, if you'll step out into the hall with me for a moment?" the doctor asked, lips in a firm line.

He didn't like the sound of that; not at all.

Still, he gently laid Alex aside again and followed the doctor outside. Alex cried out for him as he neared the door.

"Come back! I didn't fall asleep yet! You hafta play with my hair 'til I fall 'sleep!"

"I'll be right back, Alex, I promise."

Out in the hall, Dr. Pierson got right to it, explaining everything that had happened today while he'd been in class.

I was doing my rounds…

…numbers incredibly low…

…not responding to treatment…

…could try something else, but there are no guarantees…

…at his stage, I can't say anything for certain…

"Stop," Blaine whispered, closing his eyes. He'd said it so quietly he wasn't sure the doctor had even heard him, but he stopped nonetheless; Blaine imagined Dr. Pierson was probably used to having to stop mid-explanation for loved ones of the patients.

"We could try again, Blaine—"

"Just stop. I can't hear anymore." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. After taking a moment to process everything the doctor was saying, he opened his eyes and met the patient ones of the man in front of him. "You mentioned options."

"Yes. We could try the bone marrow transplant again, or we could just try chemotherapy or radiation alone. It's up to the discretion of the parents."

"And what did they say?"

"They said they weren't sure if they had a willing donor anymore."

Blaine's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"They said—"

"No, I heard you. Why would they say that?"

Dr. Pierson pursed his lips. "Where did your father's bruised eye come from?"

Shit.

"He must have gotten in a bar fight last night or something. Look, I'm a willing donor. We can do it right now. Take me down to that room and stick that giant needle in me and take all the bone marrow you want. Stick that other needle in my veins and take all the blood you want. You can have anything you need from me. Just make my brother healthy again."

"I thought you might say that," Dr. Pierson said, his lips straightening out to form a small smile. "I've already had a room and nurse prepared to take the samples. Come right this way."

The man started down the hall before Blaine could even say okay. As he followed, he said, "Wait, so you're not even going to press further about my father's eye?"

"Your father's well-being is not of my concern unless he is a patient of mine. Since he's not, and his son is, I'm purely invested in Alexander's health, not your father's."

Blaine smirked despite what was happening. "You don't like him either, do you?"

"Now, Blaine, it would be completely unprofessional of me to say such a thing."

"That wasn't a denial."

"I'm aware. In my profession, you learn to choose your words very wisely."

He knew there was a reason he liked this guy.

Finally, they arrived at a room not unlike the last one he'd had this procedure done in. Dr. Pierson left him in the capable hands of the same nurse who'd done it last time and scurried to attend to his other patients. The nurse—Lily, Blaine believed—handed him a hospital gown to change into and stepped outside for a moment. He didn't see the point, really. She was going to be digging a metal rod into the side of his hip, so she was about to see his ass anyway.

When he'd changed, he poked his head out the door and ushered her back in. She'd already had everything set up, so she gestured for Blaine to get up on the bed and lay on his side. As the needle sank through layers and layers of human anatomy to painfully retrieve its target, Blaine let the tears flow and grasped air, reminding himself of when he'd cried himself to sleep the previous night.

He wondered how many more times he'd have to do that.

…

October 31, 2012

Turns out, a lot of times.

Too many, if you asked Blaine.

After he donated bone marrow again and got back to the dorms, he headed up to Kurt's room to see if he was there. He wasn't, but his roommate Stephen was. Stephen told him that Kurt was rehearsing for the concert and asked that if Blaine came by for Stephen to tell him that Kurt was just doing what he'd asked.

Ouch.

So, with that little slap in the face combined with Alex's declining health, Blaine went out and got drunk.

Not the smartest decision he'd ever made.

He drank on the street again, and when he got back and Carter noticed he was drunk, he went and got Kurt—desire for solitude be damned—and forced him to take care of him. Kurt, being the perfect boyfriend that he was, did so—though not without a lot of screaming from Blaine. No physical violence, but lots of verbal abuse. And that wasn't something Kurt deserved, but it was something he endured until Blaine threw himself on the floor in a fit and broke down, signaling the time for Kurt to hold him close and kiss the top of his head and remind him that he was someone worth loving.

That would have been okay one or two times, but that's exactly how every night went for the next week.

Every night, Blaine would get drunk on the street or at a party or at a bar and then burst into the room; Carter would call Kurt, and Kurt would come every time. Blaine wondered how many more times it would take until Kurt would have had enough. Enough verbal abuse, enough taking care of a broken, drunken mess of a human being, enough fighting. If Kurt would ever get to the point where he'd just give up on him like everyone else in his life had.

He couldn't blame him; not really. If Blaine had to deal with himself every night, he probably wouldn't keep coming either. Then again, Blaine did have to deal with himself every night, and every day. That's why he drank. To get away from himself.

And to get away from Alex, who wasn't getting worse but wasn't getting better. Still. It was the same stalemate from the last time he'd gone through this treatment. The bone marrow transplant was already an intense treatment course, because they paired it with chemo and radiation too, and if Alex's body wasn't going to respond to this, there was a good chance he wouldn't respond to anything and the cancer was just going to kill him.

But Blaine couldn't live with that reality. So he chose another. He chose a reality where he could literally feel the world turning on its axis, and feel the air around him, and taste the pain he was too reluctant to experience, and hear the life in his body, pretending it was Alex's heart beating so strongly.

The thing was that this was only effective for so long. Alcohol could only mask things for a few hours before Blaine either sobered up or knocked out, but that release only came after he'd had a total and complete breakdown. For him to experience that kind of emotional trauma every night was really taking a toll on him. How many times could a person break down before they finally just broke for good?

Blaine was about to find out.

It was Halloween. Four years ago, he was going to a party with Trevor, testing the waters for their relationship.

Today, he'd be going to a Delta Phi party. Because even though it was a Wednesday, classes could not keep partiers down. And it was Halloween. Of course fraternities were going to throw parties tonight.

Finally. Free alcohol. He'd been having to buy his own for these past few nights, but he could finally get it for free and get lost in a crowd again. It was perfect.

He'd been careful to avoid Kurt that day, which wasn't that hard given that most of the time Kurt ignored him during the days anyway. He guessed Kurt was pissed, but every night he'd come and rock Blaine back and forth as he sobbed in his arms, and Kurt would press soft kisses to his hair and his temple and his cheeks and his tear-filled eyes and tell him how much he was loved and how good he was. Kurt wouldn't do that if he was pissed, right? But then why was Blaine getting the cold shoulder during the days?

Blaine resolved not to dwell on that too much. They could talk about it soon. When Alex's treatment started working and that weight was lifted off of Blaine's back, he could focus on Kurt. For now, Alex was his top priority.

He called to check in with Dr. Pierson one last time before slipping on an old cardigan he found in that same box he'd found the Dalton hoodie for Kurt in. Alex was still the same, which meant Blaine was free to go drink. Well, the doctor didn't say that last part, but Blaine mentally added it.

Everyone else was dressing up for the party, but Blaine didn't feel like it, so he just dressed nicely and hoped they'd let him in anyway.

Carter wasn't in the room to hold him back—he'd taken off school for the rest of the week to fly out this morning to California and help Amanda with everything going on right now since her father's passing—so with one final glance around the room he left.

Thanks to Jonathan who knew nothing of Blaine's raging alcoholism, he was in. It took him less than an hour to get hammered. He was an expert at it now, knowing what liquors got him the drunkest the fastest. In no time, he was feeling warm and great again, smiling and laughing with all the soccer guys he'd slowly befriended. If he turned his brain off like the alcohol allowed him to do, he could pretend that everything was fine, and he was just hanging out at a party with some friends, drinking just for fun and having a good time.

But then he was saying goodbye and heading back to his dorm, really really regretting forgetting his jacket at the frat house so many weeks ago. And crap he could have gotten it tonight but he forgot again. The alcohol made him forget his jacket more than it made him forget his problems.

When he got back to the dorm, Kurt was already lounging against the wall outside his room waiting.

"How did I know you'd go get drunk on Halloween?" Kurt asked, looking bored.

"Because you're a fucking genius. Move so I can unlock my door."

"The alcohol is obviously impairing your depth perception; I'm not even on the side of the door with the knob and lock."

Blaine rolled his eyes and thrust his key in the door, pushing the door open and leaving it for Kurt to follow him in. Kurt did so and closed the door behind him.

"So what is it tonight, Blaine? What are you going to tell me tonight? That I'm stupid, that I need to butt out of your life, that I care too much, that I don't know you at all, what? I'm ready. Go ahead and get on with it so we can get to the part where you're bawling in my arms."

"Oh, fuck you, Kurt," Blaine scoffed, throwing his keys on his desk and perching himself on the corner.

Kurt stood by the door and crossed his arms. "Yes, fuck me. I know. You say that every night."

"If you're just going to stand there and be a dick you can leave. I don't need you here."

"You do, though. That's the thing, Blaine. You do need me. You just don't like admitting that until that switch has flipped and you're at that point where you realize how mean you are when you're drunk and you suddenly hate yourself."

"If you know the routine so well why don't you just stay away, huh? Why deal with me at all if it's such a hassle?"

There was a part of Blaine that wasn't just asking that to be mean or out of spite; a part of him was begging him to answer the question because he honestly couldn't understand why someone would put up with him.

Kurt was silent before answering, and he and Blaine met eyes from across the room; something in Blaine's eyes must have given him away because Kurt whispered, "Because I love you." He hesitantly started taking steps towards Blaine. "I love you and I can't stand to see you hurting. So I do everything I can to stop it. But you're so insistent on destroying yourself that I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything more I can do."

He'd dropped his gaze to the floor, but as Kurt advanced toward him, he lifted his head to look into Kurt's eyes again. "Are you saying you're giving up on me?"

"I'm saying I don't know how much longer I can watch you give up on yourself."

If he was sober, this would be the part where he'd fall into Kurt's arms and let himself be held until he felt good again. If he was at the crying part of his drunken stupor, this would be the part where he'd fall to the floor and Kurt would catch him and pet his hair and try to quiet his cries as he wailed uncontrollably in his arms.

But Blaine was still angry drunk, so instead of that, he pushed past Kurt and stood in the middle of the room, throwing an arm up to gesture to the door. "Then there's the door, Kurt! No one's asking you to stay! You wanna leave? Fine! Go. See if I fucking care."

Kurt spun around and fixed Blaine with a glare. "You do care, Blaine. Stop trying to convince yourself that you don't. You care and you know it."

"You don't have any clue what I do and don't care about."

"You clearly don't care about me at all anymore!" Kurt shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

Blaine realized with a start that there were tears in Kurt's eyes. "Kurt, are you crying?"

"What do you expect me to do?" Kurt shrieked, wiping at his eyes, which only gave way to more tears. His face was getting red and he was beginning to breathe erratically. "You don't care about me at all, Blaine! Not even a little bit! If you did, you wouldn't keep doing this. Don't you care that it hurts me to see you do this to yourself every night? I have had to watch you kill yourself every night for over a week now—"

"Oh, I'm killing myself? That's rich, Kurt. You know who's actually dying? My brother. He's going to die before he's even had a chance to live."

"Yeah, and look at you! You have the opportunity to live a life that Alex might not get and you're wasting it. You're spending your time drinking yourself into this monster that no one wants to be around! Both of Scotty's parents are gone, my mom is gone, your brother might follow suit; you'd think that something like that would show you how precious life is, but instead, you're treating yours like it doesn't matter at all, like you don't even care if you live or die!"

"Maybe I don't!"

"Bullshit. You do care. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start being a role model for Alex. He needs a strong older brother right now to help him through this. He is a 3 year old little boy who is lost and scared and doesn't understand what's happening to him. The doctor can't exactly go tell him, 'There's a chance you might die today, so we're just going to shoot you with these drugs and put this stuff from Blaine's body into yours.' He won't understand, Blaine. And he needs someone to be there for him and help him through this."

"Yeah? What about me? Who's going to help me get through this?"

"Me! I have been trying to be there for you for weeks, you self-absorbed asshole!"

"Then why are you yelling at me right now?"

"Because it is killing me to watch you do this!" Kurt screamed, gasping for air. He was full on crying now, the point where Blaine was usually at at this point, but somehow Blaine was still dry-eyed. He just watched as his boyfriend's face flooded and he clenched his fists, his shoulders slumping in utter defeat at the situation. When he spoke again, it was much softer. "It is literally breaking my heart to watch you do this to yourself, Blaine. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep watching this. I love you and you don't even care and I can't put myself through this anymore."

"So what are you saying?" Blaine asked, his voice back to a normal volume.

The shouting had stopped, but Blaine could still feel their amplified words bouncing off the walls and attacking him, leaving bruises all over his body.

Kurt took a deep breath and tried to steady himself before answering. "I'm saying that I love you, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't."

"You're breaking up with me."

The words were enough to split Blaine in half, but then Kurt nodded and repeated them. "I'm breaking up with you."

Still, the tears didn't fall.

They didn't fall as Kurt crossed the room, walking right past him without so much as a goodbye kiss.

They didn't fall as he opened the door.

They didn't fall as Kurt paused in the doorway and without turning back said to him, "If you can't stop drinking for me, do it for yourself."

They didn't fall as the door clicked shut with the finality of what had just happened.

They didn't fall as he changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed lazily, spent for the night.

They didn't even fall as he fell asleep, like they had every night for almost two weeks.

The tears waiting to come until the next morning, when Blaine awoke and looked around his room and instinctively just knew what had taken place less than 10 hours ago.

Then, he couldn't get them to stop.