There might have been a time when I would give myself away.

Oh, once upon a time I didnt give a damn.

But now,

Here we are.

So whataya want from me?

New York was teeming with life; snowflakes sprinkling the city in a gentle white sheet as people rushed by. Taxis littered the street, honking at the stragglers that dared to cross in front of them. It was overwhelming as always.

Blaine tugged his hood up as he started down the street in no particular direction. It was going to be a long night.

"Blaine, come here." His mothers voice echoed up the staircase to where Blaine was seated on the floor of his bedroom, action figures scattered around him. Blaine pulled himself off the carpet, grin plastered on his face as he scurried out of the room and down the stairs.

Kylie Anderson was waiting at the door, suitcase in hand and eyes drifting around the house warily, as if she were nervous some monster was going to leap out from behind a corner and steal them both away. And something was wrong, very, very wrong. His mother was never nervous. She was always bright eyes and wide smiles and high laughs.

"Mommy, whats wrong?" Blaine stopped on the last step, peeking over the banister that she was looking around and searching for any reason for her to be this way. She was a lot paler than usual, skin pasty with heavy purpling bags under hazel eyes - much like his own- that were dull and lifeless.

She wore a brown leather coat, silk scarf wound hastily around her neck as her fingers clenched on the suitcase handle. "Nothings wrong, baby. I just wanted you to come and say goodbye to me." She tried to smile, cracked lips stretching slightly in a motion that never touched her empty gaze.

"Where are you going?" He dropped off the last stair, tilting his head up to watch her quietly.

"Ill be back soon. Mommy just needs to go away for awhile." She slid down on her knees in front of him, abandoning her luggage momentarily to reach out and straighten his bowtie.

"But why?" He just didnt understand. He didnt understand why she had to leave. Where was she going? When was soon? Did Daddy know she was leaving? Why was she so scared?

Something in her face hardened, eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled her hands away from his clothes. "Just because."

Oh! She was doing that thing she did when she wanted Blaine to guess. She was playing a game with him! A broad grin stretched across his face. "Because why?"

"Blaine, dont fucking do this right now, please." He took a step back, heel catching on the lip of the bottom stair and causing him to fall back on his behind. Mommy never swore. Ever. She stood back up, hand rubbing against her arm slightly with a barely contained wince, sleeve slipping up with the movement and revealing harsh purple marks against her skin. From what he could see, it looked like fingerprints. Now that he realized, her hand was bandaged too, white gauze wrapped around the width of her palm.

Blaines eyes stung and his bottom ached slightly from his fall. She wasnt okay. She swore at him. "I-Im sorry," he whimpered.

"Goodbye, my dear boy." She leaned over, pressing a dry kiss to his forehead and then she was gone, door closing behind her with a click. And he was all alone.

Sbarro was Blaines go-to restaurant, even though hed never admit it. He ordered his pizza and slowly clunked down the stairs with his tray, retreating to the back corner of the room. He felt so alone and so lost and he hated it, hated feeling like he was insignificant. Even though he was.

Blaine was curled up in his room when Cooper got home, knocking on his open door with a grin that fell quickly at the state of his younger brother.

"Why are you crying, Kiddo? What happened? Did the assholes at school make fun of your bowties again?" Cooper dropped to his knees in front of Blaine, arms opening up in that way that said he wanted a hug. Blaine gave a sniff, mimicking his brothers stance rather than moving to fall into Coopers embrace.

Cooper watched him carefully, inching closer to wrap his arms around Blaines middle and scoop him off the floor into a tight hug. Blaine let out a little sob, burying his face in his brothers shirt and clinging around his waist as the shakes started to set in. Hed never felt this horrible in his life. Hed never felt so small and useless and alone. "Squirt, what happened?" Coopers voice, although calm, was laced with something else. Something more. He sounded upset. Perfect, he upset more people today.

"Mommys gone, Coop," he sniffled out, fingers tightening in the back of his brothers shirt to make sure he couldnt leave if he tried to pull away. He wouldnt let someone else run away from him.

Cooper stiffened in his arms, "What do you mean shes gone, Blaine?"

Blaine lifted his head to look up at his brother, tears still dripping from his eyes and rolling off his cheeks. "She called me downstairs and she told me that she was leaving. That she needed to go away for awhile and that shed be back soon. I dont think shes coming back, Coopy. She left me all by myself and I was so scared. Ive never been home by myself before." Cooper started to pull away and Blaine clung on tighter. "Please dont leave me alone." He was back to sobbing, cheek smushing into Coopers army green sweater once again.

"I wont, Blainey. I wont leave you alone."

It couldnt have been any later than 7p.m.; customers still coming and going, laughing loudly and probably having the time of their lives in the city that dreams were made of. Blaine pulled out his cell phone, lighting up the screen and glancing at the time. 7:20p.m.

Blaine sighed, rolling his straw between his fingertips as he leaned his jaw into his palm. He just wanted to be okay. He wanted to be happy and he wanted to feel alive. Another minute ticked by on the mounted wall clock he hadnt realized was there.

Blaine was nine years old. It was two years after his mother had left out and he was okay. He was still living and he still felt good about himself sometimes. Like when he got a good grade in school.

Cooper was usually busy with either school or auditions for some community theatre and whenever he came home, he generally ignored Blaine anyways. So he was content with being content with himself.

Mrs. Wood, his grade three teacher, was a really nice lady. She always praised Blaine, giving him stickers on his tests and calling on him when he was the first to have his hand up with a beaming smile. It was as if he was her favourite. He probably was.

Blaine was always quiet in class, ignoring his rambunctious classmates unless he was spoken to directly and answering every question that was asked. It was safe to say that he was a good kid. He never got into trouble, preferring to sit alone in the back of the class during lunch time while the others socialized. Sometimes he got weird looks but Blaine didnt care. All that mattered was that he was happy.

Blaine bounced his way off the school bus, knapsack swinging off one shoulder as he skipped up to the door. His fathers car was in the driveway, which was unusual because he was rarely ever home. He must be on break from work for once. Blaine smiled as he pushed his way inside, picking up the mail and taking it out to the kitchen table like routine; sorting it between his fathers and the occasional thing for Cooper.

Without even giving it a second glance, he swept all the envelopes for his mother into the garbage can.

Blaine sunk deeper into his plastic chair with a sigh, pushing around the remains of his pizza with disdain. He should probably go and do something. Maybe he could go to the Library.

His fathers Library was huge. Shelves upon shelves of books filled with things that Blaine couldnt even begin to imagine. He always felt safe in the Library. Surrounded by the smell of paper and warmth and words. Blaine was always in love with words. He was the best at English, topping any of the students in his class with his big sentences and intricate explanations. He always felt so happy when he could talk at length to anybody who would listen to him. He felt so smart.

Blaine let his fingers run along the spines of the books as he strode between the shelves, smiling to himself at the rough texture. He felt like laughing. Like spinning in circles until he was dizzy and giggling until he couldnt breathe because he just felt so free.

Blaine grabbed a book off the shelf, fingertips grazing over the worn golden lettering as he took his purchase to a beanbag chair in the corner.

He was sitting in the back of the room when he heard the door open. Heavy footsteps making the wood under carpet creak in a way his small feet didnt. There were a few books scattered around him, each with little slips of paper marking his place in each one. Blaine loved reading; never able to choose only one book to read at a time and instead settling on several. He pushed the torn paper into his place and looked up at his father. Who was definitely not happy.

There was a glass of something dangling from his fingers, an almost amber liquid backlit by Blaines lamp. His face was cast in shadows as he looked down at his son, but something was definitely wrong. Something was weird, instead of smiling the way his Daddy usually did; he was scowling down at Blaine and his small collection of books.

"What the hell are you doing?" his father slurred out, nudging his shoe-clad toe against one of Blaines crossed knees.

He tried not to cry. Today was supposed to be a good day. He got his report card for the end of the first term and he had A+s through and through. He was supposed to be happy. "Im reading." Blaine tried not to make it sound like he was being a smartass, because he knew how much his Daddy absolutely hated it when he did.

His father slammed the glass onto the desk that held Blaines lamp with enough force that the noise echoed through the room and Blaine jumped from his spot on the floor, fingers clenching reflexively into the hardcover of the book still in his lap. "Why the fuck are you in here?"

None of this made sense. His Daddy never swore. He never had that weird golden drink unless he had some friends over and he never ever raised his voice at Blaine. Except here he was, doing everything that hed never done before.

"Im sorry, Daddy, I just got home from school and I did really good on my report card and I wanted to rea—"

"I dont care what you want to do! This is not your house; you dont get to do whatever the fuck you feel like doing." There was a hand in the front of Blaines shirt, hauling him up off the floor and he heard stitches ripping as his feet dangled centimetres off the carpet.

"Im sorry!" He still didnt know why he was apologizing but something had to be his fault. He had to have done something. Did he forget to clean his room this week? Did he forget to make his bed? Did he leave one of his dishes on the table?

"And what the fuck is this stupid thing?" Blaines toes were back on the floor but the fist in his shirt didnt leave as his fathers free hand tore at his bowtie. "You look like a fucking faggot, Blaine." He tossed the offending article to the side and Blaine tried so hard not to cry. To ignore the names his Daddy was calling him even though he didnt know what they meant.

"I like them..." Blaine choked around the lump in his throat, swallowing hard and trying to pull away. His fathers breath smelled like something horrible and Blaine couldnt get away, couldnt breathe with the miserable constricting smell that clogged his lungs.

And then he was stumbling backwards, tripping over his books and something sharp was digging into his back as he fell to the floor. His father left without another word, picking up his drink and retreating from the room as if nothing ever happened. As if he hadnt just thrown his son into the corner of the bookcase and left him crying in the Library.

Blaine let out a shuddering sigh, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. Hed been here for too long and he was getting a headache. It was 10p.m. now and the Library was to close in half an hour. Blaine had finished a book and was halfway through the next as he tried to ignore the throbbing behind his eyes.

He slid out of the chair, dog-earing the book before scooping up his coat and heading for the front desk to sign it out.

Cooper was never home and it sucked. Because the longer Blaine was left home with his father, the more he was yelled at for things hed come to realize he didnt do and the more bruises showed up on his back.

When he was, he was sitting in the living room, cell phone in hand, texting away and ignoring his brother as he tried to get his attention; tugging on Coopers sleeve slightly until he was shooed away or snapped at for being so fucking annoying.

Today he was home and Blaine was sitting in the middle of the floor and chewing on his pencil as he did his homework. It was getting late and it was almost time for his bath. Cooper was in his chair with his phone, as always, although he kept sending Blaine weird glances.

Blaine closed his duotang, sighing as he pushed it aside and looked up at his brother. "Coop, can you run me a bath?" He knew it was a long shot, he usually had to do things for himself as of recently.

"Sure, Squirt." And then his brother was gone, taking the stairs two at a time and leaving Blaine staring stupidly at the abandoned chair.

He picked up his things, going to the kitchen to dump them into his backpack before starting up the steps. When he reached the top, Cooper was sitting on the closed toilet seat, fingertips fumbling with the edges of his phone as he stared unseeingly at the porcelain tiled walls. It was unlike Cooper to be so quiet, so look so anxious.

Blaine pulled off his shirt, turning away from his brother to carefully fold the article and when he turned back, Cooper was gaping at him. "Blaine," he breathed out, hand reaching forward to touch at the dark purple marks on Blaines upper arm as his cell phone clattered to the floor, "did the people at school do this to you?" His thumb brushed over one of the marks before he turned Blaine around slowly, fingertips skating over the discolouration down the expanse of his back.

Blaine shook his head slightly, biting his lower lip as Cooper turned him back around to look up at him. "Daddy did it," he whispered quietly, eyes welling up at the reminder.

And then something hardened in his brothers face and he swept out of the room, thundering down the stairs and leaving his phone forgotten on the floor. Blaine picked it up carefully, placing it beside the sink for when Cooper came back.

There was shouting that night and Blaine couldnt sleep, kept awake by the outraged cries of his brother and the much calmer although equal in volume retorts of his father. Cooper pushed his way into Blaines room that night and sat on the edge of his bed, watching Blaine with careful eyes as he pushed the curls off his forehead. Itd been a long time since there was anybody around to look after him and Blaine fell asleep almost right away.

The crisp air pierced through Blaines jacket as he stepped onto the sidewalk; shuddering against the cold as his fingers tightened around the book and he tried to sink deeper into his coat, as if trying to disappear.

Blaine was cold, so cold. The wind swept past him again, stirring up the snow in a tornado of ice. The air stung his bare arms, numb hands rubbing against them as if that would somehow warm him up. There was snow crammed into his hastily thrown on boots.

He couldnt stop crying. Tears ran over his cheeks and froze, nose dripping pitifully and refusing to stop even as he attempted to rub at it. Cars whipped by on the road just past the tree line and all he could think about was how any one of them could be his father; any one of them could stop and find him and drag him back.

There was a noise behind him, the crack of a tree branch and a worried cry of his name. Cooper. He turned around into the face of his brother, strong arms scooping him up out of the snow with surprising strength and pressing him close to a warm chest.

"Blainey, what the fuck do you think youre doing?" Cooper said, furious and relieved all at the same time.

"Please dont take me back. Please, Coop." Blaine pressed his face against his brothers throat, freezing fingers curling against the collar of a black turtleneck.

"Youre freezing, we have to." Cooper was already started back toward the house and all Blaine could do was wail, squirming in his brothers grip.

"Please! I dont want to go back and see Daddy. He hurt me again. Please dont make me go back. Id rather die!"

The subway was ever crowded, snow tracked in from outside soaking the platform. Blaines shoes slipped against the painted lines, eyes flickering around to the people that surrounded the area. They all looked so professional; suits and briefcases filled with who knows what important information.

He made his way through the turnstiles, metrocard in hand before boarding one of the trains. He didnt know where he was going, nor did he care.

His cheek hurt. The purple stain that twisted around the area looked miserable, the same as Blaine felt. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, arms wrapped around the legs that were tucked up close to his chest. Cooper was yelling with their father again and all Blaine could do was hide. He didnt know what he did wrong. He didnt know why his Daddy always tried to hurt him, why he always yelled and dragged Blaine around by the collar of his shirt. He didnt understand the names that were screamed at him. Blaine rocked slightly in his corner. He didnt cry this time. Crying usually made Daddy shout louder.

There was the smash of glass breaking below him and Blaine jumped, fingers tightening in the fabric of his jeans. Cooper was home a lot more as of recent, sticking by Blaines side when he could and playing with him. His father always lurked around, watching them from the open door with a glass of his weird drink and eyebrows pulled into a scowl that could have been permanent. Cooper would glare at him when he thought Blaine wasnt looking.

But his brother couldnt always be around, and when he wasnt their father took it out on Blaine; shouting profanity in his face, grabbing handfuls of his recently gelled hair, ripping countless amounts of shirts. And he still didnt know what he did wrong, what he did to deserve it all.

Three hours and several trains later he ended up on West 72nd. Central Park, although well lit, looked dark. As if it could swallow him if he wandered any further down the path. The trees branches seemed to reach down toward him, twisted claws curling through the shadows.

Blaine walked without direction, glancing at one of the signs that said Terrace in bold white letters.

"Blaine, shut up. Youre supposed to be quiet here." Coopers palm smacked against the back of his head, an outraged yelp forcing its way up Blaines throat.

He brought up a hand to smooth down the nape of his neck as he subtly checked for any awry hairs disrupted by Coopers slap, glaring up at his brother. "You didnt have to be a dick about it. Im excited! Its my first time in New York; Im allowed to squeal a little."

"Theres a difference between being excited and fangirling like a thirteen year old girl at a Justin Beiber concert." Cooper rolled his eyes, steering him in the proper direction when they came to a fork in the path.

"Im fourteen and Im not a girl," Blaine grumbled, pushing out his lower lip as he tried to look put-out. But he was still grinning too much, eyes a little too squinty and cheeks a little too full as the corner of his mouth twitched. They both laughed quietly, Blaine finally heeding his brothers warnings.

"Oh my God."

"Pretty awesome, isnt it?" Cooper sounded entirely too please with himself, leaning back on one of the benches.

"Cooper! You cant just bring me here and expect me not to start screaming," Blaine hissed, pulling out his phone to take a picture of the stone circle pressed into the pavement.

The light reflected off the white shards slightly, giving the memorial a ghostly tinge as Blaine wandered around its perimeter. The dark Imagine stood starkly in the centre, black letters that held so much meaning within a simple word. The snow had been brushed away from the surrounding area, leaving a strip of concrete around the large circle.

He worked his way across, book tucked under his arm as he crouched near the middle and reached out with an almost tentative hand. He let his fingertips brush over the letters from beginning to end.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered, nudging him with his hip as he rolled over on the bed they were sprawled across. "Blaine, look." He held out his phone, presenting Blaine with a picture of the Imagine memorial.

"I know. Ive been there." He couldnt help the laugh that escaped his lips when Kurts eyes widened slightly before narrowing in disbelief. He scrolled through his phone quickly, pulling up his own picture and shoving it under Kurts nose.

"Blaine Anderson!" And then his boyfriend was on top of him, pinning his arms to the comforter. Blaine let out a high laugh, squirming slightly underneath him."Why didnt you tell me that you went to New York?" Kurts face was inches from his own, breath mingling between them and Blaine wanted more than anything to press those few millimetres into non-existence.

"It never came up?" Blaine offered with a little smile, eyes crossing slightly with how close Kurt was.

"That comes up in the basic get to know you stuff! Hello, Im Blaine and Ive been to New York." Kurts mouth brushed Blaines as he spoke, the shorter boys heart fluttering weakly as he chuckled.

"Youre ridiculous." Blaine smiled up at him, closing the distance to press his lips gently against Kurts.

"And youve been to New York."

Blaines index finger ran off the end of the E slowly, letting out a sigh that curled out in front of him in the night air. He was still asking himself the same question. Why? Why did he have to go and mess everything up when he could have just been the bigger man and done the adult thing? He didnt talk to his father anymore, anyways. In fact, he avoided him like the plague and all that would have changed if hed turned him in was that theyd have lost contact a lot sooner and Blaine would have come out with many less injuries.

He dropped out of his crouch, ass hitting the soaking pavement with a little grunt. He knew the cold would seep through fairly quickly but he didnt care. He set the book on his crossed legs, debating if he should try and read in the dim light until he got too cold.

Blaine felt as if he could breathe here, this little circle embedded into the concrete a sanctuary for his thoughts and feelings. It was like his own bubble outside of the world. Imagine was lain out between his ankles, staring up at him as if it were a promise. And maybe it was.

Imagine where things could go if he stopped being such an asshole to people he cared about, if he stopped doing drugs that never really helped him to begin with, if he stopped hurting himself over what he couldnt control just for a temporary relief. If he found Kurt and made up and did something stupid like kiss him. Imagine what would happen.

Blaine rubbed his fingers together, chasing away the cold that nipped at them as he slouched forward. Imagine if he was still the boy he was in high school. If he was in love with Disney, show tunes, and Broadway. If he had a loving boyfriend who tried his best to look after him even when he wasnt being particularly cooperative. Imagine if everything went the way it was supposed to.

Unless this was how it was planned right from the beginning. That every day hed wake up and miss someone he couldnt have, that hed hate himself and the world and think of a thousand different ways to remove the problem before he was reminded of his father and how at Blaines funeral, if there even was one, that he could plead innocence and talk about how what an amazing son he was and even though none of the people in the room would believe him, theyd be quiet because that was the respectful thing to do.

Would Kurt be there? Would he be in the front row, the handkerchief Blaine gave him years ago clutched in his hands as he cried? Or would he be near the back, quietly holding his fiancés hand and seeming unfazed that he was even gone? Probably the latter.

Was he supposed to always feel like crying or did things eventually get better? And thats what had him hanging on, clinging to his strand of life. Because of the idea that things could get better. Imagine if things did. Imagine if he could go an entire day just smiling at strangers the way he used to.

Blaine rubbed his fingers through his hair, tugging just a little as he stared down at the black letters that seemed to mock him in their own silent way.

"Dad, Im... Im gay." The sting across his cheek came almost immediately and frankly he shouldnt have been as surprised as he was.

"I fucking knew it. Youve always been such a stupid little fag," his father was already screaming and that wasnt a good sign, even though he rarely spoke at a normal level to Blaine anymore.

Blaine took a step back, fingers coming up to touch his cheek as he lowered his eyes to the carpet between them. "Im not stupid," he whispered, eyes closing as he fought back the sting in his eyes that he knew shouldnt have even been there in the first place. He was long past crying at his fathers abuse, but something about the way he said it, the way he spat out the words like venom, made everything ache that much more.

Blaine sat there for an immeasurable amount of time, staring unseeingly at the ground before him. His ass was numb, melted snow seeping through his jeans while the wind blew through the pinholes in his coat. He should probably get up, probably go home and make Christian stop worrying if the amount of missed calls and unread text messages said anything. But that didnt make him want to go any quicker. Didnt make him want to move from his place on the freezing pavement and head off to face the world that he was eventually coming to realize was a lot scarier than hed ever expected.

Blaine snorted at his own naivety, throwing a little self-conscious smile at the memorial. He was never one to be smart when it came to himself. If it was about anybody else than he was all ears and advice, but if it had anything to do with his own wellbeing and his own place in life, he was a lost cause.

"Youre literally so oblivious." Kurt was smiling at him from where he was sprawled across Blaines bed. The shorter boy tapped out a few more things with his laptop before sliding off the rolling chair to take up his position beside his boyfriend.

"Why do you say that?" The movie opened across Blaines computer screen from the desk as they settled in; Blaine with popcorn and Kurt throwing the snack disgusted looks even though he occasionally stole a small handful.

"You just are. Ive been thinking about our relationship and how much I liked you before we even actually met and you took so long to come around. Its almost laughable." He knew Kurt was teasing, grinning up at Blaine from under his lashes with that stupid little flutter that never failed to do unspeakable things to his insides.

"And I suppose youre much more aware, are you?" Blaine quirked an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly. Kurt choked on his laugh, hand slapping over his mouth to stifle the loud giggles.

"That was the stupidest question youve ever asked." His eyes were so playful, the light from the monitor dancing over his irises and playing with the colours mysteriously. "Nope, thats a lie. Youve asked sillier things."

There was just something about the subway at night that calmed Blaine down. He didnt know why, considering during the day he found it the most vile and disgusting thing on the planet. Maybe it was the presence of people that set him off; the way they had no concern for anybody but themselves as they shoved their way through crowds and nearly tripped over garbage strewn carelessly across the platform.

But at night it was like a whole other world. A place where Blaine could settle into one of the seats and just listen; lean back in the plastic seat with his head resting against the glass window behind him and breathe. There were obviously much less people at night, although still a high enough number to make him the slightest bit uncomfortable.

Blaine lost count of the nights and hours hed spent on the trains just going from place to place and listening to the world turn around him.

It was 6:30a.m. by the time he finally decided he should sleep. The doors at NYU would probably be unlocked by now, some students scurrying about at the early hours. And surely enough, Blaine got in easily.

He didnt know what to do. Why was he even at the school? What did resting have to do with the place he tried his hardest to avoid? Blaine pulled out his phone, staring at the stack of ignored calls and messages with disdain before shoving the device back into his pocket. Thats why.

He made his way down the hallway, shoes squeaking loudly around the corridor. He was slightly uncomfortable; jeans still damp and briefs clinging to his ass despite his frequent movement. But there was no way he was able to change into anything anytime soon so he carried on towards the English classroom.

Stupidly and thankfully enough, Blaines class was the only one that used the room the entire day, leaving it locked and abandoned the entire morning and it was a relief as he stopped outside the thick wooden door and pulled out the flattened hair pin that was stuffed into the inside pocket of his coat. Hed figured out the lock a long time ago, classic turn-style knob lock that was terribly easy to open compared to the rest of the classes. It was almost surprising that Cameron hadnt complained about it, considering the drugs he stuffed into the false bottoms of drawers.

The room was dark when he pushed open the door, the slightest hint of grey dusting over desk surfaces from the strip windows that lined the far side of the room. Blaine closed the door behind him before making his way up the risers to his seat at the back. It was silly really, that he would go right to his desk when he could sleep in the teachers chair instead which was by far much more comfortable. But there was something about his own desk that made him feel safe.

His name was scratched into the top right hand corner with the tip of a compass that hed stolen from the Math department the first day, and because of it being the only class that used the room there was nobody else to sit in his seat.

Blaine slumped down into the chair, arms folding over across the edge of the table before dropping his head down onto them.

"Blaine, this is so bad! What if we get caught? We could get arrested, oh my God. This will go on my record. I have to get into NYADA." Kurt was nearly shaking as he glanced around, eyes watching the road that stretched passed the school as if waiting for a Police car to drive by.

"And were in." Blaine pushed open the school door with a flourish and a grin, holding it wide for his boyfriend as he tucked his picking supplies back into his pocket. Kurt eyed him warily as he stepped through the opening.

"What are we even doing here? I hate this place, why would I want to come back at night when I have to be here all day, too?" He anxiously shifted from foot to foot, nervous stare watching down the darkened hallway.

"Because if were here at night then we can go to the choir room and sing as loudly as we want and to our hearts content and nobody will be around to stop us." Blaine wiggled his shoulders, pulling out his little flashlight as he set off bouncing across the tile and heading for the room in question.

"But we could just do that at my house." Kurt was quickly at his side, arm looping through Blaines as his eyes rested on the shadows unlit by the curly haired boys light.

"Yes, but your house doesnt have a piano and Im pretty sure your father would kill us both eventually." Blaine wrinkled his nose at his boyfriend with a little grin, stopping them outside the choir room and digging for his things again.

Kurt leaned against the wall, watching his partner work with drawn eyebrows. "You know, its rather unnerving that you can pick the locks of the school."

Blaine looked up from the doorknob, fingers freezing at their duties as he wiggled his eyebrows. "Just one of my many talents."

"Talents that could very easily have you arrested if used at the wrong time."

The shorter boy pushed his way into the choir room, flicking on the light and rushing almost immediately to the piano and pulling off the cover. "Dont be such a baby." His voice was teasing as he threw a grin over his shoulder. It was that grin that he saved for Kurt; eyes crinkling at the corners and all teeth, nose slightly wrinkled in a way that should never have been attractive and yet somehow it was.

They sang together, Blaine eventually leaving the keys to grab his boyfriends hands and swing them around the classroom while belting notes from whatever Broadway number theyd chosen at the time. They were laughing and stumbling, fingers clutching each others arms and waists. Blaine felt so careless, like he could do this for the rest of his life and be happy forever. And—

There was yelling. Why was there yelling? Blaine didnt remember that. Someone was shaking his shoulder and everything was way too loud.

Blaine sat up with a start, squinting against the light that had shown up far too abruptly and into the face of—Fuck. He slid backwards off his chair with a yelp, head knocking against the stone wall with an almost audible crack. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He watched the convulsions of Kurts swallow as he slowly extended a tentative hand, fingers shaking from where he offered it to the man crumbled on the floor. "Blaine, calm down, its just me. Ive been looking everywhere. Fuck, you look awful."

Blaine eyed he hand before him icily as he manoeuvred his legs off the seat and pulled himself into a standing position. "Its just you? Because thats supposed to be reassuring. Of course I look like shit, feel like shit, too." Kurt took a step forward and Blaines eyes flicked to the other body that he hadnt even noticed was there until now.

"Please just listen to me, Blaine. We can fix this—together."

Blaine bit back a laugh, arms extending at his sides in a way that reminded him way too much of that day in the Lima Bean parking lot. "What the fuck is there to fix, Kurt? Im not broken. And you cant just expect to swoop in with a dash of White Knight Syndrome and assume Im going to leap into your arms like some damsel in distress." He cast another look to who hed come to realize was Santana in the doorway, manicured nails touching her face and cocoa eyes wide with shock. Altogether it was an expression hed never seen her wear before. She looked scared.

Kurt was shaking his head slightly, the movement drawing Blaines gaze back to the man before him. "You just need help. Rehab, therapy, something. This isnt—" he paused, eyes resting almost sadly on Blaine, "—this isnt who you used to be. I knew you, Blaine. I knew every freckle on your body and the way your right eye would twitch when you were upset and the way your mouth would frown ever so slightly when you hated something and that bright spark in your eye when you sand and the way you twirled and danced in the rain like you were a giddy puppy. Please just give me one more chance to find him."

And for a minute Blaine felt like Kurt was right. That all his words and pleads were real and the shade of his eyes was almost right, as if he could toss himself into their depths and get lost in this man all over again. The way the morning glow bathed his face and made him look like a fallen angel. "People change. Im not who I used to be, this is me now and I dont want your pity-party. I dont want your promised safety or your false hope because you gave me that four years ago. Four years ago, Kurt, and I was stupid enough to trust you then. But not now, not this time. I dont need you to come back and fucking try to fix me so you can be the hero." Blaine shook his head, stepping down off the last riser and starting for the door before freezing. He was fucking trapped. He changed direction, moving to sit behind the teachers desk.

Realization flashed across Kurts face as his gaze dropped to the floor and he took a step forward. "Youre right, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? This is all my fault. Youre like this because of me and Im so sorry. Im so fucking sorry. I shouldnt have come back here, I just..." And then he was backing towards the door and the satisfied smirk that had peeled over Blaines face dropped off as quickly as it had come. "Im just sorry."

"Youre telling me everything I already knew, so hats off to you for reiteration, good sir." Blaine leaned back in his chair, arms crossing tightly over his chest as he schooled his expression into the cold and unforgiving one he usually donned. "Are you actually leaving or did you plan on coming back once youve found a reason to save me?"

Something hard slid over Kurts face as he pulled himself back up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest ever so slightly. "Im glad you got your way. Now if youll excuse me, I have a wedding to plan with a man who is slowly driving me insane with ever kiss, every touch, and every fucking breath. I cant be with him and I thought that was because of you, but now I know I was wrong. Its my fault, all my fault, just like everything else. Its my fault for picturing your eyes every time I look at him and my fault for wanting it to be your arms around me when we cuddle and my fault for knowing I wouldnt be picturing anyone else but you when I stand up at the altar."

And then the dam broke. And it was fucking stupid because he shouldnt be letting himself get roped back into this mess. He should be the bigger man and leave and make Kurt know how it felt to watch him walk away. To bear his soul and confess just to have them run for the hills and leave you alone and aching and dying. And God knows Kurt deserved it. He deserved a broken heart, a broken soul. He deserved being told no.

Except Blaine was too fucking weak and the tears that overflowed sparkling and lonely blue-green eyes filled with so much remorse dragged Blaine into the current. "If I give you my number, will you stop stalking me?" he whispered into the silent room, arms sliding from his chest to wrap around his torso as his eyes fell to his beat up Converse.

"Yes," Kurt breathed out. And it was almost too fast, too sudden. As if hed been waiting for Blaine to give in and that was nerve wracking because hed let Kurt win. Blaine gave a little nod, barely a twitch of his head as he reached for the sticky notes on the desk, writing down his number with a pen before extending his scar-riddled arm towards Kurt hesitantly. Look at what you did to me. Look how much you fucking made me hurt.

Kurts eyes were sealed to his forearm as he took the slip of paper slowly. "Oh, Blaine." He tugged the curly haired man closer slightly, fingertips running over the raised lines. And thats when Blaine lost it, ripping his arm out of Kurts grip as he stumbled back towards the desk.

"Go. I think you should go now." And it was like the club all over again. His chest was heaving as if hed run miles. Kurt just nodded, stepping back slowly to the door and closing it behind himself with a click.

Blaine sunk to the floor, back grinding over the edge of the desk as he hit the tile. He pulled his knees up to his chest, arms wrapping around them as he rocked slightly and the tears began to spill over.