And it breaks me down when I see your face,

You look so different but you feel the same.

And I do not understand, I cannot comprehend,

The chills your body sends, why did it have to end?

Im a broken man.

Blaine had eventually gotten himself to the kitchen. How he made it there was anybodys guess. Hed changed out of his soaked boxers and into a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt with so many tears and holes it was surprising that it was still in one piece. Hed seated himself at the island, new bag of Doritos in hand as he let his injured arm rest limply on the counter. It didnt hurt, not really. But come to think of it, nothing really hurt anymore. Except the things in his head. It was annoying to move. His head was fuzzy and every once and awhile he would start laughing for absolutely no reason. He felt good.

It was around 3a.m. that the door to their apartment opened and Christian stepped in. He shrugged off his coat while throwing his keys in the bowl by the door. Blaine gave him a grin, stuffing another handful of chips into his mouth.

Christian gave him a cautious smile as he came into the kitchen –what was there to be cautious about? Blaine was so happy right now- before he let out a startled noise as his eyes fell on Blaines forearm. "Blaine! What the hell did you do?" His roommate was at his side so quickly that Blaine started giggling again. Wow, he was like a superhero he was so fast.

"There was a very vicious cat in the alley way," he slurred around chuckles.

"Blaine."

"There was this one hooker who was one hell of a cougar. Kitty had claws."

Christians arms crossed over his chest and he lifted an eyebrow, "Blaine.."

"Wolverine got me."

His friend paused, eyebrows drawing together slightly, "Wolverine has three claws.."

"Okay, whatever. It doesnt matter." Blaine went back to smiling at his chips as if they were the best things in the world; which they totally were.

"Ill be right back." And with that Christian disappeared down the hallway, leaving Blaine to snicker at his chips and bad jokes that he muttered to himself.

Christian returned a short time later, first aid kit in hand. "Blaine, will you sit still, damn it!"

"It tickles!"

"Blaine!"

"Fine, sorry." He slouched into his chair, pout washing over his face as he held out the arm for his roommate obediently and let him wrap it.

"How high are you?"

"Im not. Im just so happy. I havent been happy in a super duper long time." Blaine gave Christian a grin as he swayed in his seat slightly, drawing out the o in long.

"Blaine, youre high as a kite. You hurt yourself again, didnt you?" Christians voice was sad, but it was as if he already knew. Of course he knew, it wasnt something that wasnt obvious.

Blaines eyes dropped to the marble-top in front of him, unable to look up and see the disappointment swimming on his friends face. "Doesnt matter..." He wrung his fingers, idly picking at the edge of the bandage.

"Please tell me what happened. This isnt my fault, is it?" Christian reached out to touch Blaines arm, hand hesitating before resting fingertips against his bicep.

"No. No, its not your fault. Its fine, Im okay." Blaine looked up, giving his roommate a broad grin that never touched his eyes. He hoped Christian wouldnt notice but as always, he had no such luck.

"It is. Its because of what I said."

"Well stop fucking grazing the surface and ask what you want to know if youre so damn interested." Blaine slid off his chair, stumbling on unsteady feet to the couch. Christian followed, and he wanted nothing more than to rip out his own hair.

"What happened? What did this to you?" Christian sat beside him, hands folded in his lap. He was quiet. Whenever he was quiet it meant that he was honestly engrossed in the subject. Why the fuck did he even have to care? It was easier when what he did didnt matter. It was the way it was supposed to be, he wasnt supposed to be anything to anybody.

Blaine tried to stop himself, he did. But he couldnt help the little word that fell from his lips, "Who."

Christian leaned forward, fingers reaching out to touch Blaines knee. "Who did this to you?"

The name was foreign on his tongue. He didnt know how to say it. Blaine twisted his hands together, mouth opening without sound. Memories of a warm smile, eyes the colour of the ocean, a cerulean mixture of the stars, a laugh like rich bells; lips the colour of pale roses, skin a smooth plain of alabaster. Chestnut hair coifed up with such precision it was like rocket science, eyebrows carefully sculpted. Cheeks that tinged pink with compliments, a shy smile, a gaze that felt like home. Warm, familiar arms and the scent of coconut and mangos.

"K-Kurt," he choked on the name, face crumpling as his eyes welled up with tears that had remained unshed for years. He looked up at his friend, eyebrows drawn together in pain as a single bead of liquid rolled off his eyelashes.

"Oh, Blaine." Christian moved toward him before he had a chance to protest, arms circling his shoulders and pulling Blaine up against his chest. Blaines fingers curled around the collar of Christians black work polo as a sob burst from his lips. Soothing hands rubbed up and down his back as he cried harder, one fist thumping dully against his roommates chest a few times with the wail of a man bearing a broken soul.

The tears kept coming, rivers of sorrow streaming over his cheeks and seeping into the material of his friends shirt. He felt like hed been crying forever. Years of pent up sadness all bubbling to the surface and boiling over. Hed fucked up. He was fucked up. Everything wasfucked up. Christians hand was still warm on his shoulder blade, the other petting over the back of his head and neck; fingertips running through his hair. There were times when Blaine thought the tears were subsiding only for them to come back with twice their vigour. He was shaking, face tucked against Christians throat as his breath stuttered and caught. Every time he had almost calmed down, flashes of blue eyes and a warm smile wrenched him back into the never-ending abyss of agony.

His head was positively throbbing, and he felt that if he opened his eyes the tears would burn more than they already were. His knuckles were white and aching, nails biting into his palms even through the shirt collar clutched in his hands. He couldnt let go, if he let go he would fall.

Memories of Kurt holding him this same way invaded his mind. When Blaine had run to him after his dad had shoved him into the bookcase and left hideous purple-green splotches up the planes of his back. When he told Kurt for the first time that his father beat him up almost daily, and that was the reason that he had boarded at Dalton. Hed started crying and hadnt stopped. Kurt cried with him, wrapping him in his arms the way Christian was now. Hed pressed a kiss into Blaines hair, whispering promises that hed never leave him alone.

Blaine let out another sob, moving his arms to snake around Christians waist and clutch him closer. Instead, he was here; all but screaming –he had been earlier- into the chest of the only person that he could call a friend. The reassurances murmured against his curls just brought on more waves of tears, and he sobbed himself into unconsciousness.

He had a fitful sleep. He dreamt of Kurt, of course he did. There was never a night that he didnt. Some nights were different. Sometimes he dreamt of their breakup, which was the easier to handle. He asked himself how that was easy to deal with every time he screamed himself awake. How was watching the love of your life, your soul mate, walk away from you am easy thing?

But other nights he had nightmares. Honest to God terrors from hell. Dreams that felt so real that it took everything in him, every ounce of his existence not to do something horribly rash and thoughtless. And it wasnt as if these dreams were bad; that was the worst part. Vivid reruns of the happy times they had together. Their first time, their first kiss, their first Christmas, the promise ring. They were all on a sadistic tape, replaying over, and over, and over again until Blaine felt like he was going insane. He probably was.

Tonight however, was different. Tonight was quiet, too quiet. Blaine never went a night without dreaming. Ever. Hed suffered horrible insomnia for a long time just trying to escape the reality of his mind. It had never worked. Eventually hed passed out from sheer exhaustion.

But right now.. He was walking in circles in a room without light. He couldnt feel the floor beneath him, he couldnt see his hands. He couldnt feel. He was floating. Free falling was probably a better term. And then he wasnt. A staircase. The staircase. He felt like he needed to be somewhere. Blaine hurried down the steps, checking the pocket watch that hadnt worked for a long time like routine.

"Excuse me?"

Blaine fell down the stairs, and before he hit his head he was floating again. He heard a scream, voice cracked with so much pain and agony that he felt as if his heart was breaking. Flashes of a glass heart shattering against a brick wall. And then he was on the ground, clutching at his eye. He was cold, so cold. And there was an ever-repeating mantra of his name in that voice, a warm hand at his hip. His eye burned for a reason he didnt have the heart to place.

His vision flashed red and he was against the wall of his fathers study, firm hands holding him against the plaster. He was so confused. Why here? Why now? Hadnt he got away? The hands moved and he was falling again. To a bed.

Soft fingers clutched at his hips, a tongue working over his Adams apple in such a practiced ease that it could only come from experience. He heard himself let out a moan, feeling his fingers tighten in his invisible lovers hair.

"Kurt."

He was holding the hand of the boy he finally realized that he loved. God, Blaine. You can be so dense sometimes.

"You move me, Kurt. And this duet would just be an excuse to spend more time with you..." He felt himself leaning forward and then he was engulfed in a pair of arms, and the smell of coconut and mango hit his nose.

"Our first Christmas together."

Black. Everything was black and Blaine didnt understand. How did things end up this way? Why did they? Could he have done something differently? For the first time, he didnt yell himself awake. And he knew he wouldnt remember this come morning.

Blaine woke up with a throbbing headache, eyes that stung, and he couldnt feel his arms. There was a blanket draped over his legs and he was on the couch. He moved his arm to cover his eyes, the bandage tugging slightly and reminding him that last night wasnt just a terrible nightmare. "Close the fucking curtains before my head explodes." His voice was like gravel, dragging over his vocal chords in the most excruciating way. He heard his friends footsteps on the hardwood as he strode past, the breeze that followed making Blaines stomach churn. The room darkened considerably as the curtains were dragged closed with a noise that sounded like marbles in his head.

"Im making breakfast." At least he had the sense to whisper. "Do you want an omelet? Something easy to swallow? Because no offense but your voice sounds like shit so Im going to assume that your throat hurts." When Blaine moved his arm Christian stood over him, a tentative smile touching his lips.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." He rolled onto his side at a pace that was embarrassingly slow, biting back a groan of pain as his head pounded its protest. His roommate hovered a moment longer, watching to make sure that he wasnt going to drop dead before he made his way back to the kitchen. A glass of water and three Tylenol lay on the coffee table in the oddest arrangement; two off to the side and one standing alone. Christian was like fucking Mama Goose when it came to Blaine, even if he did have the strangest tendencies. He braced himself on an arm, pushing into a sitting position weakly as the blanket slid to the floor. The room spun and he felt sick, wrapping his arm around his stomach as he squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck.

"Are you okay?" Christians voice called to him from the kitchen and when Blaine turned he was watching him sway on the cushions, worry creasing his brow as he flipped the omelet without looking. Fucking bastard.

"Yeah, yeah fine. I just.. Bathroom." He pulled himself off the couch, holding a hand to his head as the wall decorations tinged a sickly colour.

"So who was this... Kurt guy, anyways?" Christian had turned back to the stove, his voice carrying an almost teasing lilt. Blaine froze halfway down the hallway, fingers curling into fists at his sides as he sucked in a slow breath.

"A memory."

"Want me to beat him up or something?" Blaine knew he was joking, he really did. Somewhere he knew he didnt mean it. But that didnt mean that he didnt snap.

"If you ever fucking touch him I will kill you." And the bathroom door slammed shut with such a force that the walls rattled.