Lifes too short to even care at all,
Im losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control.
These fishes in the sea theyre staring at me.
A wet world aches for a beat of a drum.

Kurts lips were so soft, pressing gently and yet insistently against his own. He was a warm, solid weight on top of Blaine, just heavy enough to ground him and make him feel human. Kurt broke the kiss with a turn of his head, inhaling sharply against Blaines cheek.

"I love you." The words were barely audible, just a whisper of breath over the darker haired boys skin. It was so intimate and sweet and wonderful.

"I love you, too." Blaines fingertips traced up the center of Kurts back, palms settling at the bottom of his shoulder blades. Kurt pulled back slightly, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of Blaines head as he gave a little smile; kissed-red lips slightly puffy and shiny with spit. He chewed the lower with a little smile, rocking his hips forward with a purposeful drag that made Blaines head fall back and his back arch with a high moan. He felt so good –they felt so good together.

"God, Kurt, we just came. How is this even possible?" Blaines hands slid lower once again, dropping from his shoulders to gently cup the healthy swell of Kurts ass with slightly digging fingers.

"I want you to fuck me." Kurts pupils were blown wide, a midnight blue ring surrounding them as if it were an invitation; an invitation into the depths of the ocean in his eyes. And he sounded so sure, so strong, and so ready, as if hed been thinking about it for quite some time. And knowing Kurt, he probably had been; he was always so thorough about everything.

"Oh God, are you sure? This isnt just on a whim because youre still horny?" Blaine raised an eyebrow, tilting his chin down to look up at his boyfriend from under his eyelashes.

"Weeks."

"What?"

"Ive been thinking about it for weeks. Thinking about how good I want you to make me feel. I want you to fill me and make me feel whole. And then maybe next week we can switch." And this was so unlike Kurt. Just a few months ago even the topic of sex would reduce him to a blubbering, blushing mess. Except here he was, going on and giving Blaine explicit imagery that he wasnt sure he could ignore.

"God, Kurt. Yes. Yes, I want that, too." Kurt gave him a sly little smile, rolling their hips once more and wringing quiet moans from the both of them. "Do you have what we need?"

"Blaine Anderson, I have been thinking for weeks, that means Ive been prepared for weeks. Nightstand drawer." Kurts mouth dropped to his collarbone, tongue laving over the area before sucking the skin between his lips.

"Really? Its not hidden away in some locked box in the top of your closet labelled Narnia?" Blaine let out a little squeak as Kurts teeth bit into his skin.

"I will blue-ball you, dont think I wont."

"Feisty."

And they were perfect together. Moving fluidly against each other as if it was what they were made to do. There were no second guesses, no worrying if the other liked what they were doing because they knew. Blaine knew by the shift in the muscles of Kurts back as he worked him open with a skilled tongue and deft fingers whether or not he was comfortable. Itd always been that way with them, they always just seemed to know what the other needed.

Kurt let out a high moan, back arching beautifully as his cheek rubbed against the pillow. "Need you. Need you now."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Right. Um, roll over?" Blaine slowly pulled out his fingers, trying not to smile at the hiss of discomfort from his boyfriend as he was emptied. Kurt twisted around on the bed, flopping onto his back and dropping open his knees, wiggling his finger in a little come hither motion. And it was silly. Wasnt sex supposed to be well... sexy? Except they managed to balance the two, able to be goofy one second and heated the next and if he was honest, Blaine thought it was amazing.

He gave a little giggle that should have made him self-conscious as he nearly shimmied his way between the taller boys spread legs. And there was no looking back, there were no regrets – just love.

Blood. There was so much blood. Blaines head lolled back against the bathroom wall, cheek brushing against the towel that hung down from the rack. It was that one that was so much longer than all the rest of them and Christian hated it. But it was Blaines, so it didnt matter. His eyes fell to the shard of glass that had broken in several places where it struck the floor when it was dropped. Itd been so much easier than he thought it was going to be.

There were three cuts; one across each wrist and one halfway up his right thigh and it had just been so easy. Blaine didnt think about who he could hurt, he didnt think about what Christian would feel when he eventually came home and found him dead on the bathroom floor. He didnt think about the way that he knew Kurt would cry, blue-green eyes so bright and swimming in tears.

He didnt think about it because he just didnt care anymore.

They were on a blanket, the lush green grass ruffled by the wind and the scent of dirt that should have been unappealing but somehow wasnt surrounding their little clearing; their little sanctuary.

"This is so cliché," Kurt giggled, crossing his legs and opening the picnic basket that hed made up.

"But so romantic." Blaine gave a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, grinning as another peel of high laughter fell from Kurts lips and he hurried to cover his mouth with a hand.

"Youre so weird."

"You love it."

"Unfortunately."

"Fortunately. For me, anyways." Kurt smiled at the blanket, doing that shy little thing where he dropped his gaze and chewed the inside of his lip.

"Sap." The taller boy turned to dig in the basket, fingers pushing around its contents and fishing out their prepared sandwiches. "Blaine, why is there ketchup in here?" Kurts eyebrows scrunched together slightly as he pulled out the object in question.

"You made scrambled eggs, too. They arent complete without ketchup." Blaine leaned forward to snatch the bottle, making a little grabby-hand motion in the direction of their food.

Kurt wrinkled his nose, slowly passing the basket to Blaine whose face lit up in success. "Youre revolting."

"Yup," he drew out the vowel with a little smile as he uncapped the ketchup.

He was getting cold. It was slowly but he definitely was. Blaine couldnt feel the majority of his hands, fingers twitching feebly where they lay on the now stained tile. He could feel his heartbeat everywhere; chest, legs, the hands he couldnt feel. It was getting faster; which was completely stupid because wouldnt you think that as you died your heart would beat slower? The air held an irony tang that almost stung his nose except it was somehow comforting.

Kurt gave a little shriek, hand moving towards his face and fingertip pressed between his lips. "Paper cut," he whined around the digit, pushing the French textbook away with his toes and giving it a steamy glare.

Blaine chuckled, leaning his jaw into his palm and looking up at his boyfriend. "Youre so cute. Even when youre trying to be vicious." Kurts eyes narrowed slightly as he slowly retracted his hand.

"Only cute?" If he were a cat, his tail would be lashing. God, he looked like a fucking predator.

"Among other things. Kurt, dont."

"Cute."

"Kurt. Youre going to knock off my work and then Ill have to reorganize it. Do not."

"Im being cute, Blaine. Im cute."

"Kurt!" Blaine squawked as papers went flying and he was landed with a boy on his chest.

He was so cold. His eyes swam with black splotches as he slid from his position slumped against the wall. Blaines cheek hit the linoleum with a smack that probably should have hurt. The pipes under the sink were such a grotesque colour – or maybe it was just him. Blaine drew in a shaky breath, eyelids flickering shut. He was so tired and so cold and when would it be over? If he knew it was going to take so long he would have done something far messier. His heart was thumping ever faster which he still didnt understand. When would it be over?

~oOo~

Rachel was wonderful. She was beautiful and sweet, and even if she did talk a lot about herself, it came from a place of caring. Of wanting people to know how she felt about herself and there was something admirable about that. Christian knew hed never be able to feel so strongly about himself; sometimes it was hard enough to validate his clothing choices in the morning.

But she was somehow adorable about talking about herself, which was something that not very many people could achieve.

Christian smiled as she prattled on about Broadway and her huge dreams for the fifth time in ten minutes and he found it hard to be annoyed with her. How could he ever be upset with someone talking about their passion? Her voice was a constant stream in his ear, cell phone making it sound much more tinny and unappealing than it did face-to-face.

"Okay, Rachel honey, I have to go. I need to make lunch before his majesty gets home or hell be grumpy. Lunch tomorrow?" He smiled as she gave a little squeal and a vigorous affirmation. It was nice to finally be able to see people again. He hung up with a little airy sigh, dropping the device in the pocket of his slacks and digging for his keys. After becoming the manager at the bar, Christians social life had swirled down the toilet. He simply never had time. It was either school or work or sleep, there was no in between. It wasnt as if he had a problem with it, he didnt mind not having much company because he was a rather independent person; but being able to have other people at his disposal was a relief.

After fighting with the finicky deadbolt that never seemed to want to cooperate, he was finally home. His day had been cut early, classes ending because of the risk of blowing snow – not like that would have stopped New Yorkers anyways, they had too many places to be. But nevertheless, he was thankful. Any time that he could use for himself was time well wasted.

The apartment was silent, as it usually was when Blaine was absent and that was a rare occurrence all on its own. Christian hung his keys on the nail in the coat rack, shucking his coat and sliding out of his shoes with a little yawn. He didnt know when Blaine would be back, or even where he went – would he come back? His bedroom door had been closed when Christian got home late the night before, so it was safe to assume that he had returned at some point.

He made his way down the short hallway, having missed his morning routine bathroom break. The bathroom door was closed. Was Blaine already home? Christian tapped his knuckles against the wood gently, calling out his roommates name. No answer. Something cold and wet was beginning to drench the toes of his socks. The first thing that came to mind was that Blaine decided to be a dick and run a bath too deep not for the first time. The hallway was too dark to see what it was. Christian leaned back, flicking on the light and glancing at his - crimson red toes. Blood.

He twisted the knob without thinking, shoving the door open with a shaky inhale. Blaine was half-slumped against the wall behind the door, arms laying limply at his sides and eyes staring unseeingly at the sink across from him. Christian felt as if all the air had been punched out of him, insides twisting cruelly and heart doing a little dance as he struggled to breathe. He couldnt move. He couldnt move over the puddles of blood – Blaines blood because he did this to himself.

And then he was crying, eyes overflowing far too quickly as he fell to his knees on the tile with a wet smack. "Blaine!" He was so cold, his fingers were like ice and he looked so lifeless, so empty. Christian fumbled with his phone, quickly dialling 911 and holding it to his ear with a shoulder as he pulled his roommate toward him, shaky fingers pressing under Blaines jaw as he searched for a pulse point. Their normally small bathroom seemed even smaller, even more constricting as the walls seemed to press in around them. It was suffocating.

Except Blaine was alive. Christian let out a sob, dragging his friends head into his lap and petting frantically at his hair as if that would make any difference because he just didnt know what else to do.

"911, whats your emergency?" And he didnt even remember what he said. He didnt remember telling them what happened or begging for an ambulance and crying brokenly against the microphone that they needed to hurry.

"Blaine. Blaine, please wake up. Please. You need to wake up." He couldnt breathe; the tangy metal of the blood stung his nose and the air wasnt coming fast enough. Blaine remained motionless in his lap, glazed eyes fixed on nothing in particular as his chest rose and fell with a barely there motion.

And then he was dialling his phone again, a number he definitely hadnt often enough to be able to remember it and yet somehow he did without a problem.

"Calling again so soon?" He knew that she was visibly preening, flicking her hair in that flirty little way that she did and giving a little smirk. Christian choked back another breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought to swallow around the lump wedged in his throat.

"Hes dying. He tried to kill himself and I dont know what to do." The air grating in and out of his lungs was a wheeze, scratching over his tongue and hissing through his teeth.

"What?!" And then she was just as hysterical, he could almost see her tearing out her hair.

"I got home and he was on the bathroom floor and I dont know what to do. I already called 911 but what if they dont get here fast enough? What if I lose him? Hes my best friend, Rachel, and I never got to tell him that he meant that much to me." There was the distant scream of sirens, but they seemed so far away; theyd never get there in time. Rachel was panicking on the other side of the line but he didnt hear a word she said, couldnt hear her over his heart pounding in his ears and the sound of his cries in the confined space.

His phone slid from its perch on his shoulder, clattering across the blood soaked floor. "You have to be okay. Please be okay. Im so sorry, Blaine. Im so, so sorry. I never should have pulled what I did with your dad; I should have just listened to you. You always say how you never need any help and I should have believed you because look at what I did. This is my fault and Im so sorry." Christians head fell forward, the tears overflowing from his eyes dripping onto his roommates forehead and cheeks. He already felt so alone.

The front door banged open and there was the sound of voices, very professional voices that bounced off the walls and heavy, rushing footsteps that flew down the hallway. Christian was getting pulled away, a strong pair of arms under his scooping him off the floor as he cried out for his friend and struggled in the grip that dragged him from the room, eyes locked on the lifeless body strewn across the tile until he couldnt see him anymore.