Kurt was lying on his bed with his laptop open, reading an email from Rachel and smiling at the accompanying photos when he heard his phone ring.

He glanced at the corner of his computer screen, verifying that it was nearly one in the morning. He wondered who might be calling him.

He sat up so he could reach his night stand, where his phone was charging. He looked at the screen. Blaine NotAStalker Anderson, the caller ID read. He accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Kurt!” Blaine’s voice was loud and excited. Kurt pulled the phone away form his ear for a second, staring at it before returning it to the side of his head.

“Hi, Blaine.”

“I’m sooooo glad you picked up, Kurt.”

Blaine was not only loud, but sloppy with his words. Kurt’s eyebrows drew together. “No problem. What’s up?”

“Well,” Blaine said, and then chuckled slightly. “My life sucks.”

“How come?” Kurt asked.

“Mm-mmm,” Blaine muttered. “Doesn’t matter. It just does.”

“Blaine, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Shoot. Go for it.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “How drunk are you right now?”

Blaine laughed. There was a clatter, then fumbling noises, and the laughing returned. Kurt figured he’d dropped his phone. Finally he answered: “Very. Very very drunk.”

Kurt sighed, but smiled slightly. “I thought you didn’t drink much.”

“I didn’t used to,” Blaine emphasized. “But you have opened so many doors for me!”

Kurt lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “Glad to hear it. Will you tell me why your life sucks?”

Blaine was silent for a moment before he spoke quietly, his previous exuberance gone. “Maia and I got into a fight.”

Kurt closed his eyes, biting his lip. “And that’s why you’re drunk?”

“Yep,” Blaine answered, louder but not as lively as before.

“How much have you drank?”

“I dunno,” Blaine said. “A lot. The bottle’s around here somewhere…” Kurt could hear movement through the phone, Blaine stumbling around.

“What was the fight about?” Kurt asked.

“I don’t know. She says I haven’t been a good boyfriend or…or something. Or that we’re losing…and you…” he trailed off, seeming to have confused himself. After a second he spoke up again. “She said not to talk to her for a day. So she could think.”

Kurt sighed. “Are you in your dorm, Blaine?”

“Uh-huh,” Blaine said. “Just me, all alone, in my dorm. By myself.” His tone was sad again. Kurt chewed on his lip. He wished Blaine had called him before deciding to get wasted. Blaine didn’t have experience with alcohol and therefore probably didn’t know that it could be a depressant.

“Blaine, I’m going to tell you what to do, okay? Will you listen to me?”

“Of course, Kurt.”

Kurt sighed, hating how much he loved his name in Blaine’s mouth. “First, you need to go to sleep, right away, okay? Drink some water and then go to bed.”

“I can do that,” Blaine answered thoughtfully.

“Good,” Kurt said. “When you wake up tomorrow, drink more water and take some painkillers. Then drive to my house.”

“To your house?” Blaine asked.

“Yes, my house,” Kurt repeated slowly. “You’re going to come over and I will help cure your hangover. Then you can hang out with me and not think about Maia and your fight, okay?”

“Oh,” Blaine said. “Okay. I can do that. Not thinking. That sounds good.”

Kurt tried not to laugh at Blaine’s intoxicated mumbling. “Good. Now go to bed, okay?”

“I will,” Blaine answered. “And, Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being such an awesome amazing super friend.”

Kurt smiled widely. “Anytime, Blaine. Goodnight.”

“Night-night, Kurt.”

Kurt ended the call and then rested his phone on his chest, thinking.

Blaine woke up the next morning feeling absolutely miserable.

His mouth was dry, his head throbbing, his stomach upset, his muscles sore. He cracked his eyelids open and stared at the dim ceiling. After he was able to get past the physical pain, he remembered why he’d gotten so spectacularly drunk(and therefore hungover) in the first place.

Maia. Today was their day to not talk and think.

Blaine rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to lie next to Maia and stroke her hair and talk about school with her and not have worries or heartache.

As he lay there for a moment, though, he felt something else, something besides nausea and despair. He recalled raising his voice at Maia, defending himself against her. He remembered driving to the liquor store and using his fake ID to buy a bottle of rum- god, just the thought of it made him want to vomit- and then sneaking it into his dorm room. He remembered calling his parents and telling them that he was sick and couldn’t make it to their weekly dinner- an engagement he hadn’t missed all year.

He’d been so out-of-control, so impulsive, so completely out of character for him.

And it felt freeing.

But after only a few seconds of pondering this strange freedom, he remembered Maia walking away from him in the parking lot and the heartache took over again.

While he was lying there wallowing, a hazy memory came over him. He vaguely recalled talking to Kurt the previous night- or had that been a dream? It had been a phone call, yes, Kurt had called him…or he’d called Kurt?

Blaine reached over to his nightstand, finding his phone sitting there. He hadn’t plugged it in before falling asleep, and it was very low on battery. He was able to check his recent calls though, and see that he had indeed called Kurt the previous night, and talked for about five minutes. He lay back in his bed, closing his eyes and trying to remember what he’d said. It slowly came back to him…Kurt had told him to go to bed, and then…to come over to his house, today. Blaine opened his eyes, still unsure of whether he was making this up or if it had actually happened.

Now that he thought about it, though, he didn’t really care. Either way, seeing Kurt sounded like an absolutely wonderful idea. What better to get his mind of things than to go hang out in a pressure-free environment with his closest friend?

Blaine got up and stumbled into his bathroom to look for aspirin.

After dry heaving over his sink for a few minutes, drinking lots of water, choking down some painkillers, showering and getting dressed, Blaine left his dorm. As he walked out he caught his reflection and realized he hadn’t bothered to style his hair, leaving his wet locks curly and disheveled. He thought about going back into the bathroom to gel it, but decided against it. He was just going to Kurt’s house, and Kurt wouldn’t mind. Would he?

Blaine drove over there, and his memories of their conversation the previous night steadily became clearer, so he had no doubt that he was supposed to go to Kurt’s house.

When he arrived at the house, Kurt’s car was the only one in the driveway. Blaine got out and walked up to the door, knocking on it. After a moment, it opened, with Kurt on the other side.

“You’re here!” Kurt exclaimed.

“Yes,” Blaine answered, wincing. “And my head hurts.”

“Oh,” Kurt said, much quieter. “Come on in, I’ll help you with that.”

Blaine followed Kurt into the kitchen. He sat at the table, putting his head in his hands as Kurt moved around the kitchen.

“Where are your parents?” Blaine asked after a moment.

“They left for an overnight conference in Columbus,” Kurt said. He stopped moving, causing Blaine to look up. Kurt was still, standing by the counter, and staring at him.

“What?” Blaine asked.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have classes today?”

Blaine let his head fall back into his hands. “Yeah. So?”

Blaine heard Kurt move closer, and Kurt’s voice was softer when he replied. “I’ve never known you to skip class.”

Blaine laughed humorlessly. “You’ve also never known me to be this ridiculously hungover.”

Kurt laughed too. Blaine could feel that he was very close, standing right next to him, but he didn’t look up. Blaine felt almost a charge, an electricity between him and where he knew Kurt was.

Then Kurt spoke, and the moment was over. “Good, then, we’ve got all day.” Kurt walked away and then returned, with the noise of clinking glass. Blaine looked up to see him holding two bottles of alcohol, one clear and one amber-colored. “The first step to curing a hangover,” Kurt said scholarly, “Is to get some alcohol back in your system. Hair of the dog, as they say. What’s your poison?”

Blaine looked from one bottle to the other, and then to Kurt’s tentative smile.

“Anything but rum,” Blaine said.