Come together, leave alone,

See you later back at home.

No one really knows if hes drunk or if hes stoned.

But does it make it wrong to have the time of his life?

Christian wouldnt stop knocking on the fucking door. "Blaine, please, you know I didnt mean it." The wall was such a lovely cream colour; legs that went on forever, a smooth milky abdomen. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a tight breath through his nose. Why why why why? He was cross-legged on the floor leaning back against his bed. His ass kind of hurt but that was to be expected considering hed been sitting around for nearly three hours. What the fuck was he even doing? He hated this. He hated what was in his head. He wished that he could just bleach his fucking brain.

"Blaine, just come out so we can talk about this." Why wouldnt he go away? Maybe Blaine would just slit his throat. He could sit by the door so that Christian would be able to see the blood, so that he could watch. Except unfortunately he was too much of a coward and he definitely wasnt a sadist.

Blaine let his head fall back to rest against the edge of the mattress. The only question he had was why. And it was a question that would probably never be answered. Why wasnt he stronger? Why hadnt he followed Kurt? How had he let him just walk away like that? He never even fucking tried.

"Blai—"

"Christian, if you dont shut the fuck up and go the fuck away I swear to God Ill throw myself out this damn window." He heard a noise from the other side of the door before footsteps retreated down the hallway. Blaine closed his eyes, fingers clenching against his thighs into the material of his sweats.

"Hey no, come back." Blaines fingers reached for his boyfriend, lower lip pushing out in that half-pout he always used to get what he wanted.

"Im cold and naked and sticky and disgusting and I need a shower." He could hear the panic in Kurts voice, a rich scarlet spreading up the back of his neck and over his shoulders.

"Kurt, please come back." His fingers were still twitching in the air between them, pleading. He watched as Kurt sat back on the edge of the bed. "Please come lay with me? Just for a little while?"He watched at his boyfriend turned slightly, throwing a meager glance at Blaine.

"Okay." Kurt turned, quickly slipping under the bed sheet as he made his way back to Blaine. There was a rosy flush over Kurts cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, creeping down his throat and over the top of his chest.

"Youre so beautiful, please always remember that." Blaine reached up to brush a stray lock of hair off Kurts forehead as he leaned over the shorter boy. The older boy paused a second, a slow smile taking over his lips as his face seemed to grow an even deeper shade of red.

"Youre not so bad yourself." Blaine let out an oof noise as Kurt dropped himself onto his partners chest with a contented hum. "I love you."

Blaines breath hitched, tears blurring his vision, "I love you, too. More than anything."

And it was still fucking true. He was still in love with a man who didnt want him. Who up and left just like everybody else did. Blaine rolled his head against the edge of the bed, eyes opening to look at the wooden box that had migrated to his dresser. His hands loosened on his thighs, fingers opening slowly. He wished he could fix it. He just wanted to see him. Even if it was from a distance. Was he happy? Did he find a new boyfriend who would treat him right and have the courage to look after them both? Did he graduate from NYADA yet? God, what year was it even? Did he miss Blaine? Did he think about him as much as the vise-versa? What if he hated him? What if he ended up the way Blaine was now? Miserable and lost and alone.

But no, definitely not. He was much stronger than that. He wouldnt let some silly, stupid boy ruin his whole life. Because Kurt wasnt like that. He was so much stronger and he as so brave and hed have looked after himself if nobody else would. He was a fighter.

"Im so disappointed, Blaine. You know that I just want you to be happy and successful." The sheer disgust painted over his fathers face broke Blaines heart. He didnt ask for this.

"But I am happy. He makes me so happy and he makes me want to succeed and follow my dreams and live." Blaines fingers twisted together as he tried to fight the smile off his face. Now was apparently not the time to appear love-struck.

"Hes a boy, youre a boy. That is positively revolting and you damn well know it." He watched as his fathers eyes narrowed considerably before he made a feeble attempt to school his expression.

"I like boys, dad. Just because you want me to go out and fuck some girl—"

"Watch your language, young man."

"Im sure youd be all sunshine and rainbows if I got her pregnant, but as soon as I want to kiss a boy the gates of Hell open up."

"Bla—"

"No, I wont be.. held back by you! You always talk about wanting to let me live my life and yet here I am in shackles, And Im so fucking tired of you pushing me arou—" Blaines back collided with the bookcase, wooden shelf breaking with the impact and books fell with him as he hit the floor. Exhibit A.

"Learn where your place is." His fathers eyes were cold, harsh blue that was like ice cutting at his heart.

"I know where my place is," Blaines vision clouded as he pulled himself up, "and it definitely isnt here."

And then he was driving, tears wetting his cheeks as he tried to keep it together. Tried to keep on the road and not get in an accident because he needed to get to Kurt. He needed to be okay. And he needed to stop fucking crying.

Blaine clenched his jaw, hand lifting to run through his hair sub-consciously. He needed to sleep.

"Blaine..."

"Go away." He pulled himself off the floor, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as the room tilted and his back protested.

"Im just really sorry, okay? I dont know how much he meant to you, but I have a pretty good idea and Im just so sorry."

Blaine tugged off his shirt, tossing it to the laundry hamper in the corner. "Its fine. Just leave me alone, please." He dropped down on the edge of the bed, fingertips rubbing against his temples. His head still fucking hurt.

"I brought you food. And pain medicine. And orange juice."

"I just fucking sat down.." He let out a groan, tipping himself off the mattress once more and wobbling towards the door where he flicked open the lock before returning to his place. "Its open."

Christian pushed open the door with his toe, shuffling his way into the room with a tray of food, eyes staying on the carpet as he set it on Blaines dresser. He turned to face the shorter boy, whod sprawled himself across his bed, supine and staring unseeingly at the off-white stucco ceiling.

"Did you want something?" Blaines eyes moved to rest on his roommate, taking in his almost expectant expression with disdain.

"I just.."

"Get out, before I find some way to maim you without moving." His gaze flicked back to the roof, fingers toying with the bed sheet he was on top of. And Christian was gone, door closing behind him with a faint click.

Blaine woke up around 7p.m, twitching and literally aching to just get out and do something. The tray Christian had brought still lay untouched. To be honest, he just felt like getting really drunk. Blaine shoved open his bedroom door, stumbling his way to the bathroom on feet that felt pitifully uncoordinated.

"Blaine?" Christians voice echoed down the hallway, tentative steps against the hardwood.

"Why the hell are you even still here? Dont you have, yknow, a job to be at?" Blaine braced his hands on the sink, leaning forward to look at himself in the mirror. Man, he looked like shit. Not like that was anything new.

"I took tonight off; I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"I dont need a fucking babysitter, Christian." He pushed away from the porcelain, shoulder knocking into his roommates as he retreated to his room to get changed.

"You cant threaten to kill yourself and then expect me to just leave you here alone." He was leaning against Blaines doorframe, seeming unfazed as the shorter man yanked off his sweats and began rummaging through his dresser in his briefs.

"Im going out." Blaine kept his eyes trained on his clothing as he dug out a pair of tattered dark wash skinny jeans.

"What? Where?" Christian seemed taken aback, eyes wide as he took a step into the room.

"Out. Ill go get drunk and fuck some guy and forget about Kurt for awhile until I wake up and have to remember him all over again." Blaine slammed the drawer closed with a shove, grabbing the articles of clothing hed decided on before heading back to the bathroom.

"Blaine, running away isnt going to solve anything." Oh my fucking God. Why couldnt he just get that maybe Blaine didnt want to solve things anymore? He would just let things run their course and be the deplorable pawn.

"Fuck off." He slammed the door, dropping his clothing on the toilet lid as he shucked his underwear and turned on the shower.

"I just want to help you." Blaine stepped in the tub, dragging the glass partition shut.

"I dont need help." He slid under the stream of hot water, letting out a breathy sigh that bordered on a moan as his body relaxed instantly under the spray. Showers were good. He should have more showers. Blaine ran a hand through his hair, sopping curls falling over his forehead and dripping water into his eyes. He grabbed his body wash off the rack along with the loofah and set to work on scrubbing himself down.

"Just because you dont want it, doesnt mean you dont need it."

Blaine let out a high moan edging pornographic as his palm thumped against the wall for effect and he tossed his head back, "Oh shit, that feels so fucking good. I cant wait to have a pretty mouth stretched around my aching dick." He grinned to himself as footsteps quickly retreated down the hallway. Christian wasnt homophobic by any means, but as soon as it came to the practice of such, he stayed his distance.

Blaine continued with his shower, massaging his fingers through his hair and nearly purring as the ache caused by wayward curls was washed away with the shampoo. He would go out, get drunk, meet some guy, fuck him into the mattress, and then kick him out. Routine. Christian would complain the next morning, as he always did. He would bitch and moan about how at least one of us is getting laid but please keep it down or buy me a pair of really good ear plugs. Blaine did neither. He finished washing and stepped out of the shower, rubbing the towel through his hair.

Tonight was going to be his night.

The club always held a distinctive odour. It wasnt unpleasant, per say, but it was a constant smell so strong you could almost taste it. Smoke hung heavy in the air, lights from the dance floor transferring with a ghostly hue. But it was a safe place, somewhere Blaine knew he could breathe. He knew all the dancers – strippers, but whatever – and after hed given the manager the best blowjob in his life he got all his drinks for free. Being there felt like he was home. He was accepted and wanted, eyes roving over his body as he made his way to the bar, despite nine oclock being fairly early. Even though he mostly made a complete fool of himself, he felt good. He slid into a barstool just as his drink was slid across the counter. It also felt great to know people.

"Blainey! Havent seen you around in awhile. Where you been, buddy?" Jack was the tall, dark, and handsome type. Shoulders that were just a touch on the broader side, tapering into a trim waist and legs that seemed miles long. He was a sight for sore eyes.

Blaine couldnt help the grin that peeled across his face as the taller man all but threw himself in his lap. "Around."

"Youre so fucking lame. Come around more. We all miss you." Jack tucked his face against Blaines throat, pressing a hot and open-mouthed kiss there before pulling away and nearly falling off Blaines thighs with an excited bounce. "Come dance!"

He curled his arm around Jacks waist, finger tapping at his glass as he raised an eyebrow, "Can I finish this drink first? I want to be completely smashed by the end of the night."

The other man made an exasperated noise, tossing his head back in mock-frustration before giving Blaine the look of a man with a plan. "That can be arranged," he said as he slid out of Blaines half-embrace, giving his shoulders a little shimmy as he disappeared into the crowd. Blaine downed his drink at an alarming rate that should have been rather impressive considering the size of the glass before spinning around on the stool and following in the direction that Jack had headed.

A solid body pressed up against his back, fingers gripping tight at his hips before sliding around to press against his stomach and a chin hooked over his shoulder. "Youre so damn tense; you really need to loosen up." Jacks breath was warm against his ear, tongue flicking out to graze the shell.

"Why do you think Im here?" Blaine let his friend grind against him, pushing his ass back slightly and rocking his hips with the music.

"Please come around more. Mikey misses you. He never stops talking about you."

"I have school." Blaines head fell back on Jacks shoulder, arms coming up to thread his fingers into the other mans hair.

"Oh please, you rarely go. And I heard you got fired, so that frees up a lot of your time." Jacks hands slid south, fingertips playing at Blaines belt buckle.

"Well see." Blaine spun in the taller mans arms, hands resting on his shoulders.

"So, how drunk are we getting you?" Jack gave a salacious grin, one hand sliding down to cup Blaines ass through his jeans as it slid into his back pocket.

"I dont know. I have some shit that needs forgetting." He pressed back into Jacks palm.

"So; shitfaced."

"I wanna live here. Ill just stay here forever and be an artist and just... make art." Blaines feet slid out from under him as Jacks arms wound around his chest and boosted him onto the barstool.

"Good luck. God, how much have you had to drink?" Jacks mouth was at his ear, warm breath tickling against the shell and causing Blaine to start giggling.

"Its been like... four, or something." Blaines hand came up to touch Jacks cheek. "Wow, youre so tall."

"Nah, youre just tiny as fuck." He leaned down to press a quick kiss to Blaines lips, pulling back when the smaller mans tongue tried to slip into his mouth.

"Blaine!" His head snapped up at the sound of his name, grin spreading across his face as he slid off the stool. Michael bounded towards them, blond hair wet where it hung over his forehead. He greeted Blaine with his lips, hand slipping around the back of the dark haired mans neck where his fingers slid into curls.

"Ive fucking missed you like hell."

"You mean your dick has missed me." Blaine gave him a smirk as his hands trailed down to rest on the slight mans hips.

"Ass too. Where have you even been? Joey was about ninety-eight percent sure that you were dead. His words, not mine." Michaels palms rubbed down over his shoulders slowly, fingertips pressing at Blaines biceps.

"I had a job. And school. You all forget that unlike you sore losers, I have a life to attend to." Blaines smile widened as the other man gave an exasperated huff.

"This is my job," he wiggled his hips forward against Blaines slightly.

"Speaking of which, when are you on? Ive missed seeing you dance." Blaine pushed out his lower lip, fighting back a grin as Michael gave a little laugh.

"Soon, soon. All in good time, sir. I better go get prepared, I suppose. Need to dress to impress." He pressed a kiss to Blaines nose as he shimmied away, hips twisting to the beat of the music as he headed for the back room.

"Youre just going to take it all off anyways!" Blaine called after him, leaning against the bar and looking up at Jack.

"Its ridiculously awesome to have you back. Everyone else around here is boring as fuck, and they arent even good fucks. I mean, thats my assumption because theyre all such miserable kissers that I havent even tried to take a man home in..." Jacks eyebrows scrunched together, "what day is it?"

"November 20th. Its a Sunday." Blaine smiled at his friends obvious mental math, chuckling at the concentration painted across his face.

"Its been thirteen days. Blaine, I havent gotten laid in thirteen days." His expression washed over with horror. "Am I losing my touch? What if Im the miserable kisser?" Jacks hands found Blaines arms. "What if I never have a good bang ever again?"

Blaine let out a high laugh, eyes crinkling as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth. "Youre overreacting. Youll find someone worthy. And if you dont, Ill fuck you myself." A slow smile pulled its way across Jacks face. "Now if youll excuse me, theres a very sexy stripper in leather making an appearance at this very moment in time and I wish to acquaint my tongue with the backs of his teeth." Blaine gave the taller man a wink, sliding away from the counter and heading to where Michael had been introduced.

He boosted himself up on the stage and sidled towards the other man. When hed first started his attempts at getting onto the platform, management had interfered. But theyd soon learned that no matter what they did, he was always going to do it again. It wasnt as if he was starting fights, and according to the bars reviews, the observers seemed to like the show. Michael turned towards him, wiggling his shoulders with a sly smile and beckoning Blaine with a come hither motion.

Their mouths met immediately, one of Blaines hands curling around the back of Michaels neck to hold him there as he twisted his head to the side. A few cheers drifted over the still pumping music and Blaine pressed his tongue into the other mans mouth. They moved together, Michaels fingers pressing and pulling at Blaines hips with enough pressure to bruise as their mouths moved in tandem. He felt dizzy, drunk more off the pair of lips attached to his own than whatever amount of alcohol hed consumed over the course of the night. He took a slight step back and he felt like he was floating. Floating until his head smacked against the pavement floor.

There was a shriek from someone and he opened his eyes slowly. What the fuck just happened? He had to have passed out. That was the only excuse for the pale face that loomed over him with chestnut hair that swooped off his forehead and cheeks tinged pink with inebriation. The only excuse for the startling blue eyes that left him alone in a parking lot late one afternoon.

"Whoa, how hard did I hit my head?" Blaine grinned up dopily at the look-alike.

"Blaine-" there it was, that voice that sounded like angels crying, "-youre still conscious."

"How are you even real? How have we never met? Oh my God, youre so pretty." Blaine reached his hand up to cup the other mans jaw, thumb petting at a cheekbone as a lethargic grin spread over his face.

"Jesus, you really hit your head, didnt you?" Concern spread over Mystery-Mans face and an arm came around Blaines waist to help pull him off the floor. "Come on, lets go get some ice for that head." Blaine stumbled after the taller man as the support disappeared.

"Man, you have a great ass." In all honesty, he wanted to fuck him silly, and it was a tragedy that they hadnt met previously.

"Eyes on your own paper, shorty," the voice drifted to him from over the mans shoulder.

"Hey! Im not short, Im—"

"Fun-sized?" He quirked an eyebrow as they reached the bar, beckoning over the tender while Blaine wiggled his way onto a stool.

"How did you know what I was going to say? Are you a mind reader? Shit, I hope you arent because Ive been thinking about doing some positively sinful things to that behind of yours." Blaine let his eyes roam over the mans body shamelessly, lingering at the ring on his finger briefly before trailing down the length of his long, long legs.

"Youve said it before," Pretty-Boy half-mumbled, reaching around Blaines head to press the icepack there gently. "Hold."

For some unknown reason the words didnt quite register, eyes instead settling on the white gold ring. "Ive always wanted to mess around with a married man." His voice dropped down to that gravelling tone, pupils dilating slightly as he looked back at the mans face, lecherous smirk stretching his lips.

Mystery-Man sputtered, looking away from Blaine with cheeks that coloured obviously, even in the dim lights of the bar. "We will be doing no messing around." It was nearly a sneer, hands wringing together in a way that seemed far too familiar.

"So," Blaine leaned forward slightly, "whats your name, oh married man? Because why else would you be here at a gay bar if you were perfectly happy with your husband?" A look crossed over the mans face. "Ooh, fiancé? What, did he propose and you said yes because he had a nice dick and now youre realizing that he doesnt know how to use it?"

"You know my name, Blaine." He looked up at him, bar lights shedding a pale blue limn over the apples of his cheeks.

He was so fucking beautiful. Blaine had woken up in the middle of the night, treading down the hallway to use the bathroom and when he returned Kurt had rolled over in his sleep; face turned towards the window with curtains drawn and moonlight bathing him in soft whites and shadows.

Blaine crawled back into bed carefully, propping his head up on a palm to watch his boyfriend sleep. Is that creepy? I think its creepy. He looked so peaceful, so happy. His chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, eyes flickering behind closed lids and nose wrinkling up every so often. He was so very perfect.

Blaine was going to pass out. He was going to fall off his seat and knock himself unconscious and if he was lucky hed kill himself in the process, or at least go comatose. His hands shook, icepack falling to the floor with a wet smack. He couldnt breathe. He couldnt breathe and he was going to die right fucking there. Blaine fought to suck in a breath, chest heaving as his heart gave a weak lurch. He was going to be sick.

Blaine pushed himself off the barstool, grabbing the counter for support as he looked back up at the man incredulously. Why here? Why now? Because for some reason the fucking Universe hated him. "Kurt..." He felt like throwing up, designer shoes be damned. "Why are you here?" His voice wasnt half as steady as he was aiming for, teeth chattering together almost audibly as his legs shook.

"I could ask you the same question."

"Because this is what I do. His is all I have, Kurt!" Something broke in the other man, face crumpling slightly. Yeah, its okay, I know Im a failure. I dont need reminding.

"You dont need to do... this, Blaine." There it was. That eerily calm voice again for fuck sake. "Im so sorry that youre here, Im sorry youre—"

"That Im what? A fuck-up?" Because yes, Kurt, actually I do need to do this. But you wouldnt know, would you?" Blaine couldnt help the way his eyebrows scrunched together, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him.

"Im so sorry, Blaine, I really am." Kurt reached up to run a hand through his hair and there was the ring again, glinting in the light as if mocking him.

"Wait. Youre... Kurt please dont tell me youre married already. Youre not thirty yet. You had plans. What happened to graduating from NYADA? What happened to getting on Broadway and playing Angel in RENT?" Blaines fingers flexed against the wood, stomach twisting.

Kurt let out a dry laugh as if he were surprised that Blaine even remembered. "Plans change, Blaine. People change," his tone was so bitter, quickly snapping from calm to whatever this was.

The younger man sucked in a shivering breath, eyes clamping shut as he tried to make the room stop spinning. "I really hope he treats you right. Because if not, Ill break his fucking legs." Blaine shoved off the bar, dashing for the back exit as Kurt shouted after him.

There were too many people. Not enough air. He had to get away, had to escape before Kurt caught him. The walls took on a sickly colour, room tilting as he shoved the door open hard enough that he tripped into the alley and barely caught himself on the opposite wall. Everything was so tight. His clothes were constricting, the walls were closing in on him and he couldnt fucking breathe.

He stumbled his way out of the corridor, fingers clutching at the brick as his eyes blurred. There was no way he was going to be able to get himself home. Blaine reached into his pocket, fumbling with his phone until hitting three on speed dial.

"Blaine?"

"Christian, I need you to come get me. I need you to come get me now. Im a little drunk and- I feel like Im dying. Please, please come get me. I cant handle it if- Please—"

"Shut up. Oh my God, shut up. Where are you?" There was a loud noise on the other side of the line followed by the jingling of keys and a slamming door.

"Fuck. Fuck, I dont know. Somewhere on twenty-first. Starts with a B I think." Blaines knees gave out and he sunk to the concrete. "Please hurry."

"Im coming, Im coming. Breathe."

"I cant. Please dont hang up on me. I cant be alone. You were right, youre always right." He choked on the words, hot tears streaming down his face.

"Blaine, Im on my way, okay? I wont hang up on you."

"Thank you, thank you. Oh God, thank you."