It couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes since he had dozed off. Blaine's body was pleasantly relaxed and boneless, practically melted into the rumpled sheets of his bed. He hummed in contentment and rolled over, searching for the warm body he knew was lying next to him.

Except, it wasn't there.

Blaine blinked his eyes open in confusion, and then realized that what had actually woken him up, was the movements of the man putting on his underwear and pants. The sound of a zipper resonated loudly in the silence of the night.

"Josh?"

Josh turned to him and even in the darkness Blaine was able to see his eyes glance at him in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," Blaine rose to his elbow, and reached to turn on the lamp. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Josh answered levelly, kneeling to search for one shoe, thinking it might have gotten kicked under the bed. "You can go back to sleep if you want."

Blaine frowned as he watched him. "Are you... are you leaving?"

"Yeah," Josh replied. He found one of the shoes, but the other was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck. Where the hell is my other shoe?"

Blaine didn't even bother looking down. "Uhm. You know, you can stay the night here. You don't have to go home. You can sleep here until the morning ..."

"Yeah, I don't really do morning-afters, sorry," Josh muttered absently, standing to consider where it might have gotten flung in the heat of the moment.

Something felt wrong. Something felt very,verywrong. Blaine tucked the sheets tighter around his waist, feeling too exposed. "Josh..."

"Blaine, seriously, just go back to sleep," Josh turned around, scanning the room.

He wasn't sure if what he was feeling was anger or hurt, or maybe a mix of both. Blaine tried to stop himself from letting the question slip through his lips, but he failed. "Did I do something wrong?"

Josh chuckled. "No, believe me. You dideverythingexceedingly well."

"But, I..."

"Blaine, look..." Josh sighed, sounding a bit frustrated with him being so slow to understand. "I'm really not looking for a boyfriend, so if you thought that is what this was, I'm sorry... this was just the two of us having a good time."

"You asked me ondate," Blaine replied, sounding upset now, his hands forming fists in the sheets. "Several times."

"I'm quite sure I never used the worddate," Josh said thoughtfully. "I'm usually very careful about that. I wanted to go out with you. Why can't you just accept that we both had some great sex and move on?"

"Because I don't do stuff like this!" Blaine exclamed, irritated. "I don't sleep with random guys just for fun! I don't do one night stands!"

Josh found his shoe where it had slipped under the dresser. He turned to Blaine with an arched eyebrow, as he bent to put it on. "You'd better look around very carefully, Blaine, because that'sexactlywhat you just did."

And without saying another word, Josh walked out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, and out of Blaine's hopeful heart.

Blaine didn't really sleep much that night. Once he was over the shock of Josh leaving (just like that. He just got out of bed andleftlike it meant nothing to him), he got up, went into the bathroom and took a very long, long shower. He hadn't felt this soiled, used, and worthless in his entire life.

How had he been so stupid? How hadn't he seen the signs? Now that he thought back to their date (it wasn't even a date), he felt like he should've known without Josh having to spell it out in black and white for him. Josh had not been paying much attention to anything he had to say, and every flirty comment seemed to be about Blaine's looks. Josh had likely taken him out to dinner just to reimburse him for being a good fuck (oh my god, I was just a fuck), but hadn't bothered with any pretenses once he'd gotten what he wanted.

He scrubbed himself with soap vigorously, his skin turning pink and raw, but he still felt dirty. He tried telling himself that everyone had one night stands, that this wasn't that bad, that he should calm down... but this wasn't who he was. This wasn't what he believed in, what he thought he deserved.

He changed the sheets, sure that he could still smell Josh all over his bed. He put fresh ones on, and got into bed, but he couldn't find his way back to sleep. He couldn't find enough peace to simply close his eyes and let go. He just kept thinking over and over, that he was such an idiot, fantasizing about a future with someone who didn't care about him.

And who would want a boyfriend like him? He stuttered nervously everytime he met a cute guy, blushed like a virgin, and he looked and acted like a nerd who only experienced life through the pages of his books.

If that was all he truly was, maybe there was no point in longing for something he would never find.

Blaine seriously considered calling his mother the next morning and asking her to reschedule their lunch, but he didn't. He would feel guilty cancelling on such short notice, and he desperately needed a distraction, to erase the images of the previous night. It was stupid to mope and feel sorry for himself.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom for another lengthy shower. He still felt sort of dirty, like he was wearing someone else's skin. He pressed his forehead against the cold tiles and let the water run down his back, as he closed his eyes and once again willed the sordid images from the previous night to leave him alone.

Usually Blaine carefully considered what to wear before he went somewhere. Even if he was going to work, or to the grocery store, he always liked to look neat, clean, elegant. But today, he simply pulled the doors of his closet open and donned the first pair of jeans and a red short sleeve t-shirt before leaving the apartment without giving it a second thought. It was only when he was already on his way to the restaurant that he recalled that the jeans were the ones he didn't wear anymore because they were a size too small. But if he went back to his apartment to change he would probably be late, so he just grumbled in annoyance that nothing was going right for him. When he stopped for a light, he checked his cellphone for the text message where his mother had sent him the previous afternoon, missed his turn and had to circle around again.

He arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late, continuing his run of bad luck. He found a parking spot and got out of the car, and tried unsuccessfully to shove his keys, wallet and phone into the back pocket of his too tight jeans, and groaned resentfully at how this whole day was going. He hoped his mother hadn't been waiting for too long...

Except that, when he got inside, he couldn't see her sitting at a table anywhere. He looked around fruitlessly, before he asked a waitress, but it seemed that she wasn't there yet. Blaine was taken to a table for two near the back of the restaurant and ordered a glass of water while he waited.

In other circumstances, he would've appreciated the ambiance of the place. It was big enough for a destination restaurant but still managed to look cozy and shabby-chic at the same time. There were several potted plants here and there and nice pictures hanging from the walls, and the round wooden tables looked all different from each other, as if they were unique pieces bought at an antique store. So were the chairs: the one Blaine was sitting on had dark wood and a soft light green fabric covered the seat; the one his mother was going to occupy had wood just as dark, but the armrests were hand-carved with figures of birds and flowers. It was a lovely detail, and Blaine would've spent more time studying it if he wasn't still consumed by the wretched thoughts swirling about his head.

Heather made her way into the restaurant fifteen minutes later, just as Blaine was becoming increasingly worried. His mother wasn't the kind of woman who was late, so as soon as he saw her approaching, he straightened in his seat and looked at her earnestly, knowing there was a justifiable explanation.

The first sign that something significant was wrong were her eyes. They were a little puffy and red-rimmed, and they lacked the sparkle he was so used to seeing in them lately.

"Mom?"

She took a deep, steadying breath and tried to smile, failing horribly. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"It's okay," Blaine hurried to say, reaching for her hand, resting limply on the table, while the other seemed to be holding onto her purse with a death grip. "What's going on? What happened?"

It was unusual for Heather to fall apart, but she simply couldn't keep her emotions locked in anymore, after fighting to hide them for too long. One moment she was trying to reassure her son, and the next she was practically collapsing on the table, struggling to contain her sobs.

"Mom," Blaine muttered, frightened by her breakdown. He scooted around his chair until he was close enough to pull her into his arms. "Mom, hey, come on. Talk to me..."

But talking seemed to be something she couldn't do yet, so she simply allowed her son to hold her, as her body shook with the force of her anguish. Blaine rubbed her back, soothingly, but he was at a loss for words, just as she seemed to be.

It took a few minutes for Heather to calm down, but luckily the waitress noticed they needed some time to pull themselves back together, and left them in relative privacy. Finally, Heather lifted her head from her son's shoulder, wiping her tears carefully, though too late to salvage her make-up.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine," she whispered, voice weak. "I didn't mean to cause a scene..."

"You didn't, Mom. It's okay," Blaine's smile wasn't exactly genuine, but he did his best. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on? I'm seriously getting a little bit worried here..."

"Oh, honey," Heather closed her eyes, shaking her head. "It's nothing for you to be worried about..."

"But you were crying," Blaine reached to wipe a lonely tear still making its way down his mother's cheek. "You stillare."

She accepted his glass of water when he offered it silently and took a long sip. "Some days are still really hard. Some days I walk around the house finding myself talking to your father, asking him if he's seen my shoes, or my keys, or if he knows what he wants to have for dinner, and then I suddenly remember that there's no one there anymore to answer my questions." She fished in her purse for a tissue, dabbing at her nose. "I knew it would be hard to get used to him not being around, but it's much lonlier than I thought..."

A few fresh tears started running down her cheeks and Blaine scooted even closer to wipe them. "Mom... it's okay to miss him. I do, too. We'll always miss him, and it'll take a long time to really get used to the idea of not having him with us anymore, but you have to know that I'm here for you..."

"I know you are, dear," Heather cupped his cheek, giving him a sad smile. "But he was the love of my life, the only man I've ever loved... I feel so lost without him..."

Blaine took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry you had to lose him like this. It isn't fair..."

Heather sighed. "Life sometimes isn't very fair, Blaine."

When she seemed controlled enough, Blaine moved back to his original spot on the far side of the table and the waitress approached them. Blaine gave her a grateful smile before she took their orders.

Blaine put his hands on the table, fingers laced, wondering how he could help her. "Have you thought about doing something to keep yourself distracted? Have you seen any of your friends since the funeral?"

"Oh, they've called me and asked me to join them at the country club so many times," Heather answered. "I just haven't been in the mood to have them remind me how sad I am."

"Maybe you should go," Blaine said, giving her hand a little squeeze. "It could be good for you to see them. You could go back to working on those events they always organize to raise funds for charity. Organizing things always made you happy..."

Heather didn't seem conviced yet, so Blaine leaned over the table to look into her eyes.

"Just try, Mom. It couldn't hurt to get out now and again. Just a few afternoons with your friends, to help you keep your mind off the sad stuff. It's not like I'm telling you to go out on a date or anything..."

"Date! Oh, Blaine, you have to tell me about your date!" She exclaimed suddenly, perking up visibly when she remembered what the initial reason for their lunch was.

Blaine shifted awkwardly on his seat, hoping he could evade the subject. "We don't have to talk about that now, Mom."

"Yes, we do," she finally managed to smile sincerely for the first time that day. "Listening to my son talking about something happy will make me feel a lot better. So come on, tell me all about it. His name was Josh, wasn't it?"

Blaine felt his face falling, unable to pretend. The humiliation and the hurt were still very much present. "I'm sorry but I don't have anything particularly happy to say about it, Mom."

Her smile disappeared, replaced by sympathy filling her eyes, and that only made Blaine feel worse. "Blaine..."

"It's okay," he tried to sound nonchalant, but he was sure he failed dismally. "He wasn't the right one. That's it. One date didn't mean I was going to marry the guy..."

"But you seemed so excited..." It was her turn to grab his hand and squeeze it now. "What happened?"

He couldn't tell her that Josh had pretty much slept with him and then dumped him, so he tried to think of something less demeaning to say. "We wanted different things, and we didn't have anything in common. He definitely wasn't looking for a serious relationship."

"Do you thinkyouare ready to jump into a serious relationship?" She asked softly, her attention fully on him. "You've been alone for so long, maybe what you need is to have some fun and see where that takes you..."

Blaine shook his head, horrified at the echo of Josh's sentiments. "I'm not made for casual. I'm not made for dating guys just for laughs." He looked at her sadly. "I want to fall in love, Mom, and I want to be loved back. I want someone to go home to, someone who won't be afraid of planning a future with me..."

"Oh, darling," she reached across the table and brushed back some of the curls falling on his forehead. He hadn't even bothered gelling down his hair that day. "You will find him. Right now, the man who's going to love you more than anything else in this world, is waiting for you. You just have to find each other."

Blaine pushed his glasses up his nose. His voice was low and miserable when he spoke again. "Who can possibly loveme, Mom? I'm a joke."

"No, you're not," she said vehemently. "You're an attractive, intelligent, sweet man. Any guy would be lucky to have you."

Blaine blushed. "You say that because you're my mom. You love me no matter what."

"I say that because it's true," she cupped his cheek again and smiled sweetly. "Keep your heart and your eyes wide open, Blaine, and he's going to come into your life when you least expect him. You'll see."

Blaine wasn't sure he believed that, but he nodded anyway.

By the time Blaine arrived at the bookshop, his mood was dark and unstable, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He felt as if he had been walking around with his own personal rain cloud hanging over his head since the previous night, now a million times gloomier after seeing how affected his mother still was about his father's death.

Kurt was already there, working with some really loud annoying power tool that Blaine had no idea what its purpose was. Blaine waited until he paused for a moment to make his presence known.

"Hey," he said simply, his usual smile completely absent from his lips.

"Hello," Kurt replied distractedly, not really paying any attention to him as he grabbed a pencil that he had tucked behind his ear to mark something in the wall. His white t-shirt was clinging to his back with a bit of sweat and his hair was starting to fall onto his forehead. "I was waiting for you to get here because I need to go to the hardware store. I ran out of a couple of things and I need them before I can finish this."

"Sure, whatever," Blaine dropped his satchel on the table next to the armchair.

Kurt arched an eyebrow, probably surprised that Blaine wasn't asking for further information. He usually wanted to know what Kurt was doing, why he was doing, if he could help... it was incredibly irritating. But he made no comments about his boss' lack of interest. He just put the tools down and wiped his sweaty hands on the seat of his old jeans.

Blaine didn't even watch him leave. He heard the door closing behind Kurt and sighed. For once, he didn't feel like being there at the bookshop, even if he knew that reminding himself that he was working towards fulfilling his dream, was his best option for cheering up. But he wanted to be alone (you're already always alone, a voice in his head said, and Blaine shushed it, frustrated), change into a pair of sweats, have some good wine and catch up on his sleep. He wanted this horrible day to end.

There was only one other thing that always managed to make him feel better no matter what. With another sigh, Blaine sat on the armchair, trying to make himself comfortable, and then rummaged through his satchel. He always carried two or three books around, so he grabbed them, eyeing them critically and trying to decide which one would be more helpful.

He ended up choosing his worn old copy of Oscar Wilde'sThe Importance of Being Earnest, curling on his side with the book, already feeling warmth spreading through him as he opened it, starting to read it from the very beginning.

It was almost immediate, the way Blaine relaxed when he lost himself in the book. Books were his happy places. They were shelters from the real world, where he could experience the deepest of sadness and the greatest of pleasures without taking any of the risks in his own life. He could love the characters without caring that they didn't love him back, he could see them fight, then grow and die knowing that if anything went wrong, he could just flip ahead a few pages to a happy ending. If something hurt, he could skip it, or he could skim over it, as fast as he could, until things were okay again. He didn't have to wait to see how his life would unfold. He just had to read some more, and all the answers would be right there, in front of his eyes.

He had just reached one of his favorite quotes in the book ("The very essence of romance is uncertainty"), that had made his stomach twist uncomfortably, when Kurt returned. Blaine didn't say anything to him, he simply kept reading, trying his hardest to stay immersed deep within his fictional world, where he needed to be right now.

Kurt didn't say anything, either, before going back to work, though he glanced at Blaine every now and then. Something about the atmosphere seemed disturbing. Blaine wasn't his usual self, annoying Kurt out of his mind. He was so quiet, so curled in on himself, as if he was hoping that stupid armchair would swallow him.

Blaine brushed his fingertips over the old, time-stained pages lovingly. His eyes were glued to the words in front of him. He didn't stop reading for hours. The constant noises of Kurt working in the room barely reached his ears, and he only put the book down when he realized he needed a cup of coffee or he would soon fall asleep. His agitated night had left him exhausted.

He got up and stretched, his muscles stiff after being in the same position for so long, and then bent to look for his wallet in his satchel.

"Oh,well. Someone'd better be fucking that ass open every night, because it would be such a waste if it wasn't..."

Blaine spun around and straightened up to look at Kurt with wide shocked eyes, unable to believe the lewd comment had come from him. But Kurt was the only other person there, and judging from his smug smile and the way his blue eyes were appraising Blaine's body, it had, indeed, originated from him.

"Excuse me?" Blaine asked, incredulously.

"Hey, I'm just saying. You shouldn't be wasting an ass like that by just sitting on it andreading," Kurt shrugged, as if he was talking about something as trivial as the weather and not Blaine's ass. "I can think of plenty of better ways you can put it to good use..."

Something snapped inside of Blaine. His restraint broke into a million jagged shards. It had been such a long, terrible day, and it wasn't even close to over yet. He couldn't take one more second of this anymore.

Blaine could feel his nostrils flaring, his anger making him pant as if he had just run a marathon. His fists clenched where they were hanging at his sides, book, coffee, everything absolutely forgotten as he looked at the stupid smirk in Kurt's lips.

"That is extremely inappropriate," Blaine said coldly. "Go back to work rightnow."

Kurt's eyes seemed to widen for a moment, but Blaine couldn't really be anywhere near him anymore, so he just grabbed his book, shoved it back into his satchel, and stormed out of the bookshop without looking back.

He had been right, earlier that day, when he was talking to his mother.

Everyone thought he was just a big joke.