Don't Keep Your Distance: Chapter 1

December 2011

Burt groaned as he rolled out of bed, stumbling down the hall towards the phone. Who on earth would be calling him at this hour? He had tried to ignore it, but the phone just kept ringing, ringing, ringing. He snatched the phone up angrily, not even bothering to fake politeness.

"Hello, this is Burt Hummel and you better have a damn good reason for waking me up at 3am."

There was a quiet sniffle on the end on the line.

"Hello?" Burt asked, concerned. "Hello? Who is this?"

The voice that responded was soft and broken. Burt would have recognised it anywhere. "Hi."

"Blaine." Burt's voice was full of disbelief as his heart began to pound in his chest. Whether it due to excitement or happiness or foreboding, he wasn't sure.

"Blaine, oh my god, kid. Oh my god, it's so good to hear from you. Are you okay? What's going on? Goddamnit, kid, I can't – this is -"

There was a soft sob on the end of the line. Burt immediately fell silent. "Blaine, please," he whispered, trying to keep his voice even. "Tell me what you need. Please, you're scaring the crap out of me."

"I…Burt, I…I'm so sorry, I just…"

"Blaine, what is it?"

"Can I come home?"

9 years earlier…

From the moment Blaine stepped off the plane in New York City, he was thrust head-first into a totally new world. New York was completely different from Ohio. He was suddenly all alone. At 21 years old, he finally felt like an adult. He was responsible for his own life. He had to pay his own bills, and secure his own future.

It was both terrifying and liberating.

He managed to rent a tiny apartment with the money that he'd saved from summer jobs. His next step was to find a way to make more money, preferably through singing.

In an ideal world, he would have attended Juilliard or Tisch or some other prestigious arts school. But, this wasn't an ideal world – he simply did not have the money to do that. So, he had to start small, and hope that there was even the slightest chance that fate was on his side.

It turns out, fate was on Blaine Anderson's side – or so it seemed.

Blaine found it relatively easy to get jobs performing casually in cafes and coffee shops, which he was content to do for a couple of years. He was cute, people told him, and his guitar skills and soothing voice were perfect for such establishments. He made enough in tips in order to get by, but he knew that eventually, he'd have to find a way to move on to bigger and better things.

Burt and Kurt helped, a lot. Blaine made sure to call them every single day, and they were always there when he needed advice, or cheering up, or just someone to talk to. Unfortunately, because he was struggling for money and the Hummels weren't exactly rolling in it themselves, he knew that he wouldn't be able to visit as often he liked. But he stayed with them for Christmas vacation for the first couple of years that he was in New York, and each time, he fit back into the family as if he'd never left.

In 2005, everything changed.

One Friday afternoon, after he had finished playing in a small coffee shop, Blaine was approached by a gorgeous guy called Tom. Tom had big brown eyes and messy blond hair. He was the same age as Blaine, and when he introduced himself, he blushed and gushed over how beautiful Blaine's voice was. Blaine found himself blushing in return. They ended up having coffee together and talking for hours, until the shop owners came and kicked them out. Very soon after that, they started dating.

Blaine fell for Tom hard and fast. He was sweet, and charming, and adorable in every sense of the word. He was intelligent, and they shared a similar taste in books. Having Tom around made everything a lot less lonely.

But, after two years of playing in coffee shops and cafes, Blaine was getting agitated. He knew that he didn't want this for the rest of his life. He needed to get his name out there – the problem was that he had absolutely no idea how to do that.

So, he did his research. He looked online for advice, but what he found only made him more and more terrified when he realised just how many people there were in New York that shared his dreams. As Blaine scrolled through pages and pages of advice for young aspiring musicians, he felt a sense of despair settle over him. He was nothing special. He never would be. Coming all this way was a stupid idea – he was going to spend the rest of his life playing in coffee shops, struggling to pay the bills. With a cry of frustration, he grabbed his jacket and ran out of the apartment.

He headed straight for the nearest bar and immediately began drowning his sorrows. He knew that the alcohol would help to ease his worries, if only for a few hours.

After knocking back at least half a dozen drinks in under an hour, the bartender refused to serve him anymore.

"Jus' give me 'nother drink," Blaine mumbled, waving his empty glass in front of the man's face. "'m not even drunk, my life still suckkkkss," he said, swaying precariously on the barstool.

"Woah," a man said, reaching out to steady him. "Be careful there."

"Who're you?" Blaine asked, blinking up at the blurry stranger. "The name's Sebastian," the man said, pulling Blaine to his feet.

"Like the crab?" Blaine asked with a giggle.

"Yes, like the crab," Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, let's go sit in a booth. The seats are less hazardous."

Once Blaine was slumped in a booth, Sebastian handed him a glass of water. "Drink," he said. "You'll thank me in the morning."

"What's it t'you?" Blaine mumbled, drinking the water.

"Well, at first I just wanted to fuck you," Sebastian said, and Blaine choked on his water, "but then I saw that you looked really depressed so I figured I'd listen to your sob story first."

"I have a boyfriend," Blaine said.

"Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

"Well, it does bother me, so fuck off and leave me alone."

"So you can drink yourself into more of a drunken stupor?" Sebastian sighed. "Come on. Tell me what's wrong."

Blaine glared at the man in front of him for a long moment, before sighing resignedly. "Basically, my life sucks," Blaine said. "Tom is the only good thing I have. I never even get to see my family back home. I just want to sing, I want to perform and make something of myself…I'm 23 years old and I have nothing besides a business degree that my father forced me to get, and I'd rather die than do that for the rest of my life. I'm a loser."

Sebastian appraised him for a moment, before a sly grin spread across his face. "Well, sweetcheeks, today just might be your lucky day."

"M'name's Blaine."

"Whatever. Look, my dad is Brandon Smythe, and he -"

" – Wait, wait. Did you say Smythe?"

"As in Smythe Records? Yes, I did."

"You're messing with me."

Sebastian laughed, and pulled out a business card, shoving it under Blaine's nose. There is was, clear as day.

Sebastian Smythe

Executive Vice President

Smythe Records.

Blaine stared at the card for several long seconds, until he became aware that Sebastian was talking again.

"So, come by our recording studio tomorrow, and if you have the talent, we'll see what we can do. But if you suck, don't expect any sympathy."

Blaine looked up and met the man's eyes. His face was twisted in a self-satisfied smirk, and Blaine narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Sebastian said. "No catch at all. You're an attractive guy, Blaine. A really attractive guy. You wouldn't believe how important that can be in the music industry. Plus you have a sort of…charisma about you. I just have a good feeling. Here, keep the card," Sebastian said, sliding it across the table. "I trust I'll be seeing you tomorrow, then?"

Blaine stared at the card, unable to believe that such an opportunity had just fallen into his lap. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

When Blaine arrived at Smythe Records, he was trembling with nerves, and still trying to fight off the remnants of a hangover. He was surprised to find Sebastian waiting for him in the main foyer. He smiled widely when he saw him.

"Blaine!" He greeted, "I'm glad you could make it. Let's head straight to the recording studio and see what you've got, shall we?"

When they got to the recording studio, Blaine was introduced to Brian and Kendra, who quickly got everything set up. Sebastian stuck around to watch Blaine the entire time he was in the recording studio and Blaine wondered how the executive vice-president of the company didn't have better things to do than listen to him sing. Blaine found himself constantly glancing over at the man, but Sebastian never once gave any indication of whether or not he enjoyed the music.

At first, Blaine's fingers shook as he strummed his guitar, and he tried desperately to stop his voice from shaking. However, he was encouraged by the fact that Brian and Kendra kept giving the thumbs up, and asking him to sing more of his original songs. Their only criticism was that Blaine was just singing the songs, but not really feeling them. Blaine understood what they meant – he always wrote songs that he connected to on a deep level, but being under so much pressure was affecting his ability to really get into the music like he normally did. After a couple more songs, however, he felt himself starting to relax, and he allowed himself to really lose himself in the music.

After several hours in the studio, Blaine was finally called out. Sebastian immediately started clapping enthusiastically.

"That was fantastic, Blaine!" He turned to Brian and Kendra. "Don't you guys think he has potential?"

They both nodded. "Definitely," Brian said. "He has a great voice, and his original material is both catchy and soulful."

"Not to mention the fact that he's gorgeous," Kendra said, winking at Blaine, who blushed scarlet and found himself grinning ear-to-ear at the praise.

Sebastian smiled at him. "I think we have a few things to discuss."

The next couple of weeks passed in a whirlwind of meetings and consulting sessions. Blaine was having difficulty believing that this was actually happening. Things like this just didn't happen to him.

When Blaine was called into Smythe Records for a meeting with the company president and the executive vice-president, he didn't know quite what to expect. But he knew that if he was meeting with Sebastian and his father, it had to be important.

Blaine knocked on the door of Brandon Smythe's office, and found Sebastian already seated. He looked up to smile at Blaine as he entered.

Blaine shook Mr Smythe's hand quickly, and hoped that his palms weren't sweaty.

"So, Blaine," Brandon said once Blaine was seated next to Sebastian, "my son here tells me that you have a lot of potential."

Blaine cleared his throat nervously. "That's what everyone keeps telling me, sir."

"You don't agree?"

Blaine doesn't know what to say. "I…I love music, sir. I love performing. I put a lot of time and effort into it and it means a lot to me that others are able to appreciate it."

Brandon hummed softly. "Well, Blaine, I've listened to your stuff and I have to say, I was impressed. Your music possesses a unique character that is not unlike your disposition. You've got a sort of boy-next-door charm that will appeal, mostly, to the teenage and young-adult female market. However, I do have one…concern."

Blaine swallowed. "C-can I ask what you are concerned about, sir?"

"My son here tells me that you're gay."

Blaine's heart sank.

"Don't get me wrong, Blaine," Mr Smythe continued, "I'm not homophobic. Sebastian here is gay too, and knowing him he's probably hit on you at some point." He chuckled. "However, this is a business, Blaine, and you have to realise that something like this could have detrimental effects on your career. If you want to make it big, sometimes that means compromising certain aspects of your personal life. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You want me to stay in the closet," Blaine replied softly.

"I hate the term 'the closet'. I'm merely asking you to keep your personal life away from the public eye, which I think is a fair request, considering all that we're doing for you. It will be a condition of your contract, if you agree to sign with this company. If you choose to go public with your sexuality, we will reserve the right to terminate your contract. This is for the best, Blaine - it will help your career, and it will help the company. Besides, are you really ready for the whole world to know?"

Blaine considered the man's words. Honestly? No, he wasn't ready for the whole world to know that he was gay. He hadn't even told his parents.

"Do we have an understanding, Mr Anderson?"

Blaine looked up to meet Brandon's eye. He nodded.

A week later, Blaine lay in bed with his head spinning. He couldn't sleep. He was full of energy, his body thrumming with excitement.

He had been officially signed by a record label.

Tom was ecstatic. "I'm so happy for you, baby," he'd whispered as he kissed Blaine senseless, and Blaine swallowed guiltily as he summoned the courage to tell his boyfriend that as long as he was signed with Smythe Records, they would have to keep their relationship under wraps.

Tom was upset, but his anger and frustration didn't seem to be directed at Blaine. He called Brandon Smythe every name in the book, and when Blaine argued that the man was "just protecting his company," Tom cursed the fact that gay people still had to hide their sexuality in order to be successful in this day and age. Once he had calmed down, however, he assured Blaine that he loved him more than anything, and that he would support him with whatever he chose to do. Blaine let out a relieved sigh, and kissed his boyfriend until they both forgot all about Brandon Smythe and his stupid conditions.

When Blaine called the Hummels, Burt and Kurt were overjoyed to hear the news. "I'm going to be the first person in line at the store to buy your album when it comes out," Burt said, and Blaine laughed joyously. He wasn't sure if his own parents would want anything to do with him anymore once they heard that he had deceived them, but he knew that he would still have Burt and Kurt, and that was enough to give him the courage to make the phone call.

His parents, as expected, did not react well to hearing that Blaine had completely ignored his business degree in order to pursue singing. After several long minutes of hearing his father yell about how much of a disappointment he was, Blaine managed to get the man to calm down long enough to tell him that he had a contract with Smythe Records. His parents seemed unable to believe that Blaine was capable of achieving any sort of success, and Blaine could tell that they didn't expect his singing to go anywhere. It hurt, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. It seemed that he was always disappointing his parents one way or another.

The next 6 months were the busiest months of Blaine's life. He had so many things to do. He had songs to record in the studio, and music to write. He spent a lot of time in meetings with managers and publicists and loads of people from other important positions that he didn't even know existed.

Before long, Blaine had an album. When he first saw it, he burst into tears. The cover-art was a picture of him from his first photoshoot, walking down a desolate rocky path, guitar clutched at his side. His hair was wild and wind-swept and Blaine had to admit, he looked pretty good.

Shortly after the album's release, Blaine gained a small fanbase. He soon ended up playing small local shows, which he loved more than anything. After the shows he would always take the time to talk to his fans and sign copies of his album – he tried to remember the names of the fans he met, but their numbers just seemed to keep growing, and became more and more difficult to keep track.

The first time Blaine heard one of his songs played on the radio, he was in a cab. He burst into tears yet again, and earned a very strange look from the driver.

From then, things escalated rapidly. Blaine knew that things had changed after the first time he was recognised on the street. Soon after that, he was forced to hire bodyguards for whenever he went out.

The money started pouring in. Blaine and Tom bought a new apartment together - it was big, and beautiful, and offered a stunning view of the surrounding city. Blaine knew that he wasn't in it for the money, but that didn't mean that it wasn't awesome to be able to buy new clothes and take his boyfriend out to fancy restaurants and not have to worry about paying the bills.

The irony of the situation was that, despite the fact that Blaine now had the money to go back to Ohio whenever he wanted, he no longer had the time. But he promised Burt that he would still go home for Christmas as usual, and this time, he had Tom to take along with him.

Blaine kept his promise. On Christmas Eve, Burt picked Blaine and Tom up at the airport. There were tears and hugs exchanged, and everything was wonderful.

When they got back to the Hummels, Blaine's face split into a huge grin at the sight of Kurt. "Oh my god, Kurt!" He cried, sweeping the boy up into an enthusiastic hug. "You've grown so much since last year! How old are you now, 10?"

The boy nodded against his neck, clinging to him tightly, and when Blaine pulled back, he was shocked to see that Kurt was crying.

"Kurt, was wrong?" He asked, wiping away the tears.

"I just m-missed you so much," Kurt whispered. Blaine pulled him into another hug.

Christmas was absolutely amazing. Blaine would never forget the way Kurt's face lit up when he opened his gift - a gorgeous custom-made designer coat that had cost Blaine a couple of thousand dollars (although he had lied and told Burt that it was only a couple of hundred).

For some reason, Kurt didn't seem to like Tom very much. "Don't worry, he'll warm up to him," Burt had said with a chuckle after Tom had kissed Blaine on the cheek, earning an icy bitch-glare from the boy.

When it came time for them to head back, Kurt and Burt both came to say goodbye at the airport. The goodbye was a tearful one, and Blaine's heart ached to see Kurt crying yet again. It made him cry too, and he wasn't able to calm down until he and Tom passed through the security gates, leaving his family behind them.

A couple of months later, Blaine had just gotten out of the shower when he received a call from Sebastian.

"Congratulations, killer," Sebastian said when Blaine answered the phone.

"Congratulations for what?"

"You've just been nominated for a Grammy. Best new artist."

Blaine screamed so loudly Tom came bursting into the room in a panic to make sure he wasn't being attacked.

On the night of the 2006 Grammy awards, Blaine wore a beautifully-tailored suit with a black bowtie. His date for the night, a pretty blonde girl called Jennifer who Sebastian had introduced him to the previous day, looked stunning in a strapless blue dress.

Blaine wished more than anything that Tom could be there by his side instead of watching from home, but he knew that it wasn't an option.

When the nominees for Best New Artist were called, Blaine was shaking in his seat.

"And the winner is….Blaine Anderson!"

The next 5 minutes passed in a crazy blur. Blaine was vaguely aware of Jennifer kissing his cheek as he got up to accept his award. He made sure to than Sebastian and his parents in his acceptance speech and, even though his parents didn't know about the existence of the Hummels, he mentioned his "good friends Burt and Kurt. Without them, I wouldn't be here today." He wanted to thank Tom, but his publicist had strictly forbid it, so he made his speech and tried his very best not to feel like a total sell-out.

The moment Blaine opened his apartment door later that night, he knew that something was wrong. The air felt tense, and he could hear the sound of shuffling in the bedroom.

"Tom?" He asked as he made his way into the bedroom. "Tom, did you see? I won!" Blaine stopped in his tracks when he entered the room.

Tom was standing in the middle of the room packing clothes into a large suitcase, several other large suitcases leaning against the wall. His hair was a mess, his face streaked with tears.

"Tom?" Blaine asked, his stomach twisting nervously as he took a tentative step forward. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Tom let out a choked sob. "I'm sorry, Blaine, I can't do this anymore." Blaine's heart dropped.

"What?"

"I love you, Blaine," Tom said, tears streaming down his face. "I love you so much, and I'm so proud of you, I really am. But I just can't do this anymore. I can't watch you go to awards shows with some random girl on your arm. I can't watch you pretend that I don't exist even though we spend every moment of every day together. I can't stand by and watch you deny who you are for the sake of fame. I can't do it."

Blaine felt his eyes well up with tears. "N-no," he said, "no, Tom, please don't do this! It doesn't matter what other people know, what matters is that we love each other!"

"But do you love me enough to come clean about us? Do you love me enough to not be ashamed of me?"

"I'm not ashamed of you! I have no choice, if I tell people, I'll lose everything! Everything I've worked for -"

"Maybe you won't lose everything!"

Blaine shook his head. "It was a condition of my contract, I can't just -"

"Another company would sign you!"

"But what if they didn't?"

Tom stared at him for a long moment. "I've heard enough, Blaine," he said finally. "The fact that you're not willing to take that chance for me speaks volumes. You don't need me. You'll be just fine. I have to go. Goodbye, Blaine."

After Tom left, Blaine found himself overcome with pain. He cried and sobbed and screamed, but nothing seemed to help. He smashed up their picture frames that sat on the bedside table, but that didn't help either. It hurt so much. It hurt even more because he knew that it was his fault, that he could have fixed it, but he was too much of a coward to try.

He stumbled to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka, willing to do anything to numb the pain.

For the next few weeks, Blaine turned to alcohol to make his waking hours more bearable. He woke up with a hangover every morning, and went to bed drunk every night. He stayed cooped up in his apartment and ignored all his calls and emails.

One day he woke up to the sound of his doorbell being rung over and over again. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, a splitting headache making him stumble as he walked the (too long) distance to the front door, and wrenched it open.

"Fuck," Sebastian said. "You look like shit." He barged his way in before Blaine had a chance to object, and he immediately crinkled up his nose.

"It smells like booze and death in here. Blaine, where the fuck have you been? I've been trying to get you to arrange tour dates for the past three weeks and you haven't answered a single one of my calls, I was half-expecting to find a dead body when I came here today. I wasn't that far off, by the looks of things."

Blaine groaned and rubbed his eyes. It was far too early to be having this conversation. He went into the kitchen to make coffee.

"Blaine, here's what's going to happen," Sebastian said as he followed him into the kitchen. "You are going to clean yourself up, and you are going to come down to the office first thing tomorrow to discuss the up-and-coming tour. And then you are going to come home, and get on with your life because drowning your sorrows in alcohol is not the answer. I'm sorry about your boyfriend, really, but you could do so much better anyway."

Blaine slammed his mug of coffee down on the table. "Shut the fuck up, Sebastian!" He yelled. "You don't know shit about him. Just leave me alone."

"I know that he dumped you," Sebastian continued, "and made you feel like you were responsible. He didn't deserve you, Blaine. None of this is your fault. The sooner you get over this guy, the better."

Blaine stared at Sebastian for a long moment, before stepping forward and pulling him into a rough, searing kiss. Sebastian responded immediately, pulling Blaine forward until their bodies were pressed together. Their tongues battled for dominance, teeth clashing together. Blaine reached up and tore Sebastian's shirt open, feeling a sick sense of pleasure at the fact that he probably just ruined a $500 shirt. Sebastian growled into his mouth and fumbled with his belt buckle.

Blaine wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to achieve. Perhaps he was hoping that sleeping with Sebastian would help him to get over Tom. Or maybe he just wanted to feel something other than pain, if only for a moment.

Whatever pleasure he may have felt that day, it was short-lived. After Sebastian left a couple of hours later, a self-satisfied grin on his face, Blaine felt even worse than he had before.

Tears streamed silently down his face as he poured himself another glass of vodka.

The next several months passed in a blur. Blaine forgot what it was like to be sober. He missed meetings and photoshoots, which resulted in Sebastian banging on his door and dragging him out of bed. He threatened Blaine's career several times, but he and Blaine both knew that he'd never let him go. He made too much money for the company.

Blaine stopped calling the Hummels because he didn't want them to hear how his voice slurred. He stopped seeing his friends, because he didn't want to see their judgemental eyes. He was safe at home, by himself, with a bottle booze in his hand.

One day, Blaine was scheduled to appear on The Ellen Show. He showed up late, and drunk. Sebastian was furious, and as soon as the disastrous interview was over, Blaine was dragged back to the office headquarters and berated by Sebastian and his father.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Blaine!" Brandon yelled as Blaine slumped in his chair and tried to pretend that he cared about anything the man had to say. "I don't care about what you do in your personal life. If you want to drink yourself into an early grave, that's your choice. But what you're doing is shattering your career, and you know who pays the price? Me. This company. If you're going to be this person, you need your fans to empathise with you and see you as a troubled artist rather than a disgusting mess. So tonight you're going to go home and you're either going to clean up your act, or you're going to write me some fucking fantastic, angsty songs. You understand?"

When Blaine got home, he poured all his alcohol down the sink.

The next morning he woke up shaking, and stumbled his way to the liquor store down the street to get some more. When he got home, he grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, and a bottle of vodka, and sat down to write.

For the next couple of weeks, he stayed home, writing. He wrote songs about heartbreak and loneliness and hopelessness. He knew they were good, but they were so different from his old stuff, he had no idea how receptive his fans would be to the new Blaine Anderson. He was already being bombarded with worried tweets and fanmail after his interview with Ellen, because even though he'd managed to answer the questions fairly well, the slurring of his words and lack of coordination had made it fairly obvious that he was drunk.

Blaine sighed as he picked up his guitar and started to sing.

A couple of weeks later Blaine was awoken at 11am to the sound of someone repeatedly ringing his doorbell.

Blaine groaned as he rolled out of bed, a familiar pounding in his head and dryness in his mouth.

"Fucking Sebastian," he mumbled as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, stumbling towards the door.

He flung the door open, prepared for one of his regularly-scheduled arguments with Sebastian. He gasped in shock when he opened the door.

"Burt," he said.

Blaine watched as Burt looked him over, and he felt completely naked and exposed. When Burt met his eyes, his expression was a combination of disappointment and sadness, and it hit Blaine like a punch to the gut.

Blaine stood up as straight as he could in a vain attempt to make himself look less pathetic than he probably did right now.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You gonna let me in?" Burt asked, and Blaine reluctantly stepped aside to let him into the apartment. He was suddenly very aware of the dirty dishes in the sink, the empty bottles of alcohol on the counters and the clothes on the floor.

"It's been six months, Blaine," Burt said. "Six months since I've heard from you. You haven't answered your phone, or the emails I've sent you. I wanted to come here earlier until I realised that you never actually gave me your address and, believe it or not, finding out a celebrity's address is not easy to do. I ended up having to track down Tom, and he told me that you'd broken up."

Blaine stood there, arms folded across his chest, staring at the floor in shame.

"Well, Blaine? You care to give me an explanation? I've been worried sick. Kurt misses you like crazy. And then I come here and your whole apartment smells of booze and vomit. You need help, Blaine."

Blaine looked up, glaring at Burt. "You have no right to come over here and tell me how to live my life!"

"The hell I don't! I love you like a son, Blaine! I just want you to be alright!"

"Well, as much as you may pretend to be, you're not my fucking father!"

"I'm as good as! You never exactly spoke highly of your real father!"

"Well at least he minds his own business!"

"He minds his own business because he can't be bothered to do his job, which is to make sure you're alright -"

"I'm FINE!"

"The hell you are. You need to see a doctor, or a counsellor, or something -"

"What the fuck is a counsellor doing to do for me, tell me that I'm depressed or that I'm not coping or that I need to stop lying to everybody? There is not a damn thing a counsellor could say to me that I don't already know."

"Well do you really think alcohol is going to help solve your problems?"

Blaine paused. He was beginning to shake, and he knew that it was a combination of his emotional state and the fact that he really needed another drink.

Blaine's chest ached. He stared at the man in front of him, the man who really was like a father to him – more of a father than he ever thought he'd have. And all Blaine could think about was how much of a disappointment he was – to Burt, to Kurt, to Tom, to his parents, to his fans, even to Sebastian.

Burt and Kurt didn't deserve this. He had put them through enough pain. They didn't deserve to spend the rest of their lives worrying about him and whether or not he was okay, because he'd never be okay. And he could never be the Blaine that he once was. That Blaine was long gone, and they'd never get him back.

So, Blaine did the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. He took a deep breath, and said the two words that he knew would leave him utterly and completely alone.

"Get out."

Burt blinked. "What?"

"I said, get out. Get out of my apartment and get out of my life. I never want to see you or speak to you ever again. I'm not your son, and you're not my father. I'm not a child anymore – I don't need you, and you don't need me. Just leave."

"You don't mean that," Burt said, taking a step forward. "You're hurting, and you're going through a really rough patch, but this is when you need your family most of all -"

"I DON'T HAVE A FAMILY!"

There was silence. Burt stared at him with sad eyes, and Blaine struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"Blaine, please -"

"Just get out."

Burt let out a sad sigh, and headed towards the door. As he walked past Blaine he reached up and squeezed his shoulder gently.

"You'll always have a home with us, Blaine. Always."

And then he was gone.

Blaine crumbled. He let out a cry of despair and pain as he grabbed a half-full bottle of vodka from the kitchen counter and fell to the floor. Violent sobs racked his body as he curled up in the corner of the kitchen and brought the bottle to his lips.

In all his life, he had never felt so empty.

December 2011

"BLAINE!" Tyler yelled, laughing as he launched himself across the room to pull Blaine into an enthusiastic hug. "So glad you could make it, man."

"I've been here for 2 hours, Ty," Blaine laughed, clapping his friend on the back.

"Oh…sorry man, I got distracted. There was this really hot chick, Candice or Candy or something, and she has the most amazing tits, man, you gotta -"

Blaine grimaced. For the sake of keeping up appearances, he nodded along like he actually cared, chugging back half of his beer. The party was in full-swing at this point – everybody was well and truly drunk, and Blaine grinned. It was nice not to stand out for once. He finished his beer, letting out a sigh of contentment at the pleasant buzz that filled his body.

"Oh, by the way, man, did I introduce you to Alexa?" Tyler waved over an incredibly good-looking girl wearing nothing but a bra and a pair of denim shorts so tiny they might as well have been underwear.

"Alexa's a huge fan," Tyler said, throwing Blaine a not-so-subtle wink.

"Really?" Blaine asked, smirking at the girl. He expected her to blush, but she just smirked right back at him.

"Yeah, you got some real talent," she said, reaching out to fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "I love your latest album. Dark and depressing, just the way I like it."

Tyler grinned. "I'll leave you two alone," he said, turning around and making a beeline for three (possibly underage) girls in the corner of the room.

As soon as Tyler was gone, Alexa leaned in to whisper in Blaine's ear. "I know that you're gay."

Blaine started, turning to stare at the girl with wide, panicked eyes. She laughed.

"Oh, relax, pretty boy. I'm not here to stir up shit. I'm just very observant."

Blaine gawped at the girl in front of him. "How…?"

"You've been checking out the guy on the couch for the past hour," Alexa said. "But that's not how I figured it out. I'm pretty sure you have more chemistry with that bottle of beer in your hand than you did with that Sylvia girl you were supposedly dating. You're so far in the closet, you're in Narnia."

Blaine let out a sudden laugh. He had a feeling that it would be useless to try to deny anything to this girl.

"You caught me," he said with a grin.

"You wanna go upstairs?" Alexa asked. Blaine blinked at her.

"Umm…?"

"Not to fuck, Jesus," she said, laughing. "Some friends of mine are having a private party in the main bathroom."

Blaine cocked his eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Alexa grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs and into the bathroom. There were four other people in there, seated on the edge of the bathtub and the toilet seat.

"Blaine here is gonna join us," Alexa said, locking the door behind them.

"Hey," one of the guys said. "You're just in time." He pulled out a clear pipe with a circular end containing a small amount of a white powdery substance. He then pulled out a lighter.

Blaine started when he realised what was going on. "Is that…?"

"You ever tried it before?" Alexa asked as the guy lit up and began inhaling the smoke from the pipe.

"No," Blaine said. "I…I heard it's really dangerous."

They all laughed.

"Honey," Alexa said, reaching out to grab the pipe, "you go through, what, like 2 litres of vodka a day? If you're going to kill yourself, you might as well make it good. And this stuff," she raised the pipe to her lips and inhaled deeply, "is fucking good."

She held the pipe out for Blaine to take. He stared at it. He had learnt a bit about Crystal Meth at high school – mostly that it was extremely addictive and would make you crazy and ruin your life. But really…what else did he have to lose? His life was just a big scrambled mess of booze and parties and money to spend on more booze and concerts he couldn't remember the next morning and lonely nights spent alone or in the arms of a nameless stranger.

He reached out to take the pipe, and raised his to his lips.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door loudly. "Open this door!" They yelled.

"Shit!" Alexa yelled, snatching the pipe from Blaine and scrambling to hide it.

"Open this door right now!"

One of the guys stepped forward and unlocked the door, and suddenly Sebastian was running into the room. He spotted Blaine immediately and rushed forward, grabbing his face and tilting his chin up to look into his eyes.

"Did you smoke it?" Sebastian asked, his voice cold and hard. "Did you?"

Blaine shook his head, and Sebastian let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god."

Sebastian turned towards the others in the bathroom.

"Is this fun for you?" He hissed. "Is fucking up other people's lives fun for you?"

"Oh, please," Alexa said, rolling her eyes. "As if his life isn't fucked up enough already."

Sebastian glared at her before grabbing Blaine's hand and pulling him out of the room.

The trip back to Blaine's apartment was silent, but as soon as they arrived and the door closed behind them, Sebastian let loose.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He asked. Blaine stayed silent, making his way to the liquor cabinet.

"Don't even think about it," Sebastian said, stepping into his path.

"Jesus, Sebastian, what do you want me to say?" Blaine cried in frustration.

"I want you to say that you'll try, Blaine!" Sebastian yelled. "You are so fucking lucky that I showed up when I did. Do you have any idea what kind of reputation that girl has? How many times she's narrowly escaped winding up in prison for dealing?"

"I'd never met her until tonight."

"And you were going to…you know what, Blaine? This has gone far enough. For the past 6 years, I have watched you ruin your life. I don't even remember what you're like when you're sober, and I don't think you do either. Well, this ends now. You're going to rehab."

"I am not going to rehab, and you can't send me there against my will."

"If you don't go, we're done."

"What do you mean 'we're done'?"

"You're out. I'll terminate your contract."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"Why the fuck do you even care?"

"Because, you stupid asshole, I actually care about you! We're friends, aren't we? I want you to be okay."

Blaine groaned, and buried his face in his hands. "Rehab won't work," he said, raising his head. "I know for a fact that it won't work."

"Then go home," Sebastian said. Blaine looked up at him in surprise.

"I am home."

"I meant go back to Ohio. You need to get out of this place for a while, Blaine, it's not healthy for you to be here. This environment is toxic for you and you need to start afresh."

"There's no home for me in Ohio."

"Are you sure about that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Blaine, for the last 5 years, a man called Burt Hummel has called me every single week to ask if you're alright. I always hated having to tell him the truth."

Blaine paused for a long moment. "He c-called?"

Sebastian nodded. "The man's a goddamn pain in the ass."

Blaine let out a sob. Sebastian immediately pulled him into his arms and Blaine cried into his chest, his whole body trembling.

"Call him," Sebastian whispered, stroking Blaine's hair. "I'll take care of packing your stuff. Let him know that you'll be at the airport tomorrow."

Blaine shook as he sat on his bedroom floor, his cellphone clutched to his chest. He could hear the sounds of Sebastian walking around in his living-room, searching for some clean clothes that he could take with him to Ohio.

Summoning up all his courage, he took a deep breath and hit the call button.

The phone rang for a long time, and Blaine was just about to hang up when Burt answered.

"Hello, this is Burt Hummel and you better have a damn good reason for waking me up at 3am."

The sound of Burt's voice sent a fresh wave of emotion through Blaine's body.

"Hello?" Burt asked, sounding concerned. "Hello? Who is this?"

Blaine's voice cracked as he responded. "Hi."

"Blaine. Blaine, oh my god, kid. Oh my god, it's so good to hear from you. Are you okay? What's going on? Goddamnit, kid, I can't – this is -"

Blaine could hear the genuine concern and caring in the man's voice, and he let out a soft sob. Burt fell silent for a moment. "Blaine, please," he whispered. "Tell me what you need. Please, you're scaring the crap out of me."

"I…Burt, I…I'm so sorry, I just…"

"Blaine, what is it?"

"Can I come home?"