My heart stops,

When you look at me.

Just one touch,

Now baby I believe.

This is real,

So take a chance and don't ever look back,

Don't ever look back.

            Cecil chuckled, face shadowed by the light behind his head. “Oh, please. You're about the size of a jumbo shrimp. What the fuck do you want, anyways?”

            Blaine crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “You're the guy who tried to rape my boyfriend after you drugged him.”

            Cecil cocked an eyebrow as what must have been realization washed over his face. He took a step forward, the harsh back-lit glow of the lamp significantly less as he moved further around the back of the statue. “You're the idiot who's been texting me pretending to be Kurt,” he growled. Growled. Blaine didn't think that human beings could actually produce that noise. “And it wasn't rape. He wanted it. He was practically begging for my huge cock.”

            Blaine tried to contain a shudder, closing his eyes briefly to get a hold of himself before looking back up at the man in front of him. He was easily over six feet tall. “If I'm an idiot, I'd hate to know what that makes you considering you're the one who fell for it.” Blaine inched a step closer. He was not about to be stared down and shown up by this asshole who thought that he was tougher than him. “And I promise that he wasn't begging for it if the way he acts now is any indication. You're just too delusional to be able to get that through your thick fucking skull.” Blaine was digging himself a hole but he didn't want to gather himself enough to make a plan to climb out when he was done. “And really? Your huge cock? Who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”

            Cecil honest-to-God bared his teeth because apparently he was an animal. That explained a lot. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Do not fucking test me; I'm not above smashing your face in.”

            Honestly, Blaine didn't doubt it. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do some pushing of his own. “Compensating with your scary words for what you lack in the bedroom.”

            Cecil took a step forward and Blaine barely held himself from backing up. He wasn't going to step down. He wasn't going to show weakness and run away with his tail between his legs. He was going to prove that he wasn't some fucking jumbo shrimp. The taller man's face was so close to his own, breath hot against Blaine's nose and smelling faintly of what must have been vodka. “I don't remember Kurt ever saying he had a boyfriend. I'd be plenty embarrassed too if I was dating some fuck-up like you,” he spat. “Now back. Off.”

            “Oh ouch, you've mortally wounded me with your mean words. At least I don't have to dope boys up on who-knows-what to get them to have sex with me.” Blaine pressed his index finger into Cecil's sternum. “Unlike some people, apparently.”

            The other man swatted Blaine's hand away. “This is your last fucking chance,” he snarled. “You won't be laughing anymore when you're lying face down in the dirt.”

            Blaine just smiled. “Try me.” Cecil drew his fist back almost painfully slow, a smirk peeling across his face as if he'd been waiting his entire life to punch Blaine in the face. His nose broke with a grotesque crunch and Blaine could feel every ridge of the other man's knuckles. Why the fuck hadn't he moved. Right, because he wanted to prove a point. He stumbled back, bringing a hand up to clutch at his nose as he felt the blood drip through his fingers. Cecil rubbed at his hand and that's when Blaine dove, arms locking around his upper thighs in a successful rugby tackle he'd be a lot more pleased with if it were under different circumstances.

            The taller man hit the grass with a thump and a grunt, head falling back to smack against the dirt. Blaine moved to straddle Cecil's waist, knees clamping against his ribs as the other man thrashed under him. A hand came up around Blaine's throat and he swung, feeling the satisfying crack of something against his hand. Cecil cried out below him, shielding his face the best that he could. He couldn't see; everything was hazing red around the edges and he just kept hitting, palms and fists colliding with whatever was within reach and ignoring the pained cries of the man below him. Blaine lost track of time.

            He rolled off Cecil, turning away and swiping the back of his hand over his nose. Fuck. And then there was a wet chuckling behind him followed by a coughing wheeze. “Is that all you got?” Cecil spat into the grass, rolling onto his side and looking up at Blaine from swollen eyes as he turned back around. “I really hope Kurt's proud of what you're doing.” He had a split brow, probably a broken nose; something was up with his jaw that Blaine was surprised he even managed.

            Blaine turned back around, driving the toe of his shoe up into the other man's ribs and drawing out a wheezing cry.

            His head was literally a drum. Blaine stumbled out of the park, one hand pressed against the back of his head and the other digging in his pocket for his cell phone. The screen was blurry and that was either because there was something on it or he couldn't see. He chose the latter. Blaine flicked through his contacts, praying that the one he called was who he was aiming for.

            “Hello?” As Christian's voice rang through the speaker, he realized he was right.

            “I need you to come and get me,” Blaine half-whispered, primarily to keep his ringing head down to a minimum.

            “Blaine, it's like 8 o'clock or something,” Christian hissed.

            “Oh, my bad, are you an old grandma settled into her rocking chair to knit for the rest of the night?” he growled back. “I need you to come and pick me up, please.” Blaine pressed his fingers under his nose, pulling them away and glaring at the blood that came with them. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

            “Dammit, Blaine!” He heard something clatter to the floor and then a mumbled apology to someone followed by rushed footsteps against hardwood. “What the fuck did you do, now?” There was the jingle of keys and a slamming door.

            “I might have gotten into a fight, but who knows.” Blaine dropped down on the curb, crossing his legs and tugging up the hood on his sweater. It would be just his luck that someone would decide to give a damn about him right now.

            “You're such a fucking moron!”

            “Yeah, so I've gathered. Just come get me.” Blaine forwarded his GPS location to his friend, not caring enough to figure out where he was.

            When the car pulled up to the curb, Christian looked pissed. Or maybe it was more than pissed. Either way, Blaine didn't think he'd ever seen him that upset.

            “Why the hell did you get in a fight? And with who?” he spat when Blaine half-dragged himself in the door.

            “Some fucking asshole drugged my boyfriend and tried to rape him, I had every right to do something about it.” The shorter man let his head thump against the window, squeezing his eyes shut and regretting it immediately.

            “What the fuck am I supposed to tell the receptionist? He got in a fight with someone probably twice his size but don't worry, the other guy looks worse.” The car screeched as Christian basically yanked it away from the curb.

            “He does look worse,” Blaine mumbled. “I don't know, tell them I fell down the stairs.”

            “You're such an idiot,” Christian sniffed. When Blaine looked over, he was crying. “You scared the hell out of me. You could have gotten yourself killed, you stupid fucking asshole!” His friend's hands tightened around the wheel until his knuckles were white.

            “I'm sorry.”

            Blaine always hated hospitals.  It didn't matter where they were or how colourful they got, he hated them. It probably started when he was six and Cooper had to get stitches. His parents were too focussed on his brother that Blaine ended up making an escape and was lost wandering the blank, empty halls for what felt like forever. His feeling of hatred was heightened when he was in a coma.

            Blaine sank down in one of the waiting room chairs, staring resolutely at his feet while Christian talked to the nurse over the receptionist desk. He was probably going to have to get his nose re-set which was going to hurt like God knows what. He was also going to need stitches. Blaine didn't want to move to look at the mirror; didn't want to see what he looked like.

            Blaine was sitting on the edge of his cot, glaring at his pile of folded clothes on one of the seats. Hospital gowns were stupid. His entire face ached; every time he moved something twinged and he debated that taking off his whole head would hurt a lot less.

            The nurse was out looking for pain medicine (he hoped) because she forgot to change the IV bag because she was also a fucking idiot. After messing up the stitches in his eyebrow, Blaine didn't think she could get any worse. He was wrong. Blaine was picking at the edge of the gown when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He was ready to tear a fucking strip off the next person to come in his room.

            “You're okay.” Blaine's eyes flashed up from his lap because that was not the voice he expected. Kurt was standing in the doorway in a pair of sweatpants and a coat he didn't even think was on the right way. And he was crying, fingers gripping the doorframe so tightly that Blaine was sure they were frozen there.

            Confusion tried to draw his eyebrows together but instead just made him wince. “Kurt, what are you doing here?” His voice sounded like shit, like someone was being dragged over a nail bed.

            His boyfriend laughed a high noise that was almost maniacal. “What the fuck do you mean what am I doing here? Christian fucking called me!” Blaine grimaced at the level of his voice, chewing the inside of his cheek as his head throbbed. “Do you even realize how scared I was? I thought you'd tried to off yourself or something again! Fuck, Blaine, you fucking idiot!”

            Blaine lost count of the amount of times he'd heard that just tonight alone. “Can you keep your voice down before your yelling splits my fucking head in half?” he hissed. Kurt didn't believe him. He never believed him. He really believed that he wasn't ever going to change. “I told you I was going to try and be better for you. I told you! Did you really not believe me?” He didn't. “Did you really think that I would try and do that again when I promised you and myself that I would be a better person?” He did. Blaine twisted his hands together, glaring down at the tile between them. “I get that I'm an idiot, I've been told it enough times that I don't need you to reiterate.”

            Blaine could see Kurt shaking his head in his peripheral. This was where it ended. “I'm done.” Done. The word stabbed through his head like a knife and all Blaine could do was watch the floor. “Blaine, I am so done with your pity-party.” Was that really what he thought this was? Did he really think that Blaine was trying to guilt him into something? “Of course I didn't believe you!” Another knife. “How could I after everything you've put me through? I can't keep dealing with this! I can't be fucking terrified every time I receive a phone call. I can't, Blaine. I can't. I need to be able to trust you and know that when you end up in the hospital, it's not because you've gone and hurt yourself again! What the fuck did you do this time, anyways?” This time. “Please tell me you didn't get into some stupid bar fight because I will come over there and break your fucking nose again.”

            He could be trusted. He could. “You can trust me, you're just refusing to try!” And it was true; this wasn't just Blaine's fault. “I haven't hurt myself since I was in the hospital; I haven't gotten high because I wanted to be able to pull through my problems for you and you're standing here saying that you can't trust me when I'm trying so fucking hard to give up what I've been doing the past four years to be a better person for you!”

            “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you would be able to trust me if I was in your position.” Blaine kept his eyes locked on Kurt's feet. “Look me in my fucking eyes!” he cried. “You don't get it. I love you and that's exactly why I can't trust you. Anybody else would leave—“ Kurt broke off his sentence, giving a feeble sniff and rubbing his hands over his eyes. “I'm so exhausted, Blaine, don't you understand? I've been trying to change for you, too and I'm so tired.”

            “Anybody else would leave me, I get it. I'm a fucking idiot.”

            “Stop it! Stop degrading yourself! Didn't you hear me, you dumbass? I know you're a fucking idiot and I still love you.” Kurt sunk down in one of the chairs and Blaine's eyes followed him as he threaded his fingers into hair Blaine didn't realize was wet. “That won't ever be enough, will it? My love for you won't be enough.”

            “I never said that.” Blaine lifted his gaze to rest on Kurt's face.

            “You didn't have to.”

            “Well it's not true.”

            “What do I have to do? What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not going anywhere, that I'm here to stay? I've seen you at your lowest and your highest and fuck, Blaine, it only makes me love you more.”   

            “Maybe I'm scared to trust you, too! The first time I wasn't strong enough for you, you left. You left me behind because I was too scared to turn in my fucking father for hitting me. Who's to say that I'm not going to have another shitty low like that? Who's to say that you won't leave, then?” He was so close to breaking down. The pressure behind his eyes swelled up and his head felt like it was going to explode. They were supposed to be okay.

            “See? This is what I'm talking about. You won't let that go. That was four years ago, Blaine, four years and you still bring it up every time. I'm done. I'm done with trying to defend myself and done with trying to prove something, which you obviously don't believe exists. You were into drugs, you had sex with strangers every night and the first time I saw you, you were so drunk out of your mind that you couldn't even recognize me. And you have the audacity to say you can't trust me?”

            “I'm allowed to be scared, too, Kurt! I'm a fucking human being; I make mistakes, I fuck myself up, I ruin my own life one second at a time and I. Am. Scared! Are you saying that you're allowed to be worried what I'm going to do but I'm not allowed to be worried about what you might? I'm not fucking invincible!”

            “I'm not either. I can't deal with this forever.”

            “Oh but I can? I can just go on forever fucking up my own life? I love you, you absolute moron. Why else would I be in here right now if it wasn't for that fucking asshole Ce—“ Blaine broke off, eyes dropping back onto the tile and rubbing his hands together. Fuck.

            “What? What did you—please tell me you didnt. Blaine, please tell me he did not do this to you.” Blaine just kept his gaze on the bleached floor, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “If you don't tell me the truth, I'm leaving. Blaine, I will walk out of that damn door and hunt down Cecil myself.”

            “I'm sorry.”

            “Blaine. What. The fuck. Did he do to you?”

            “He looks worse,” Blaine mumbled.

            “He must've followed you home from Vapiano's. I'm so sorry, it's all my fault. I should've gotten him arrested or something, I'm so sorry.”

            “No, not exactly. It's not your fault; it's mine. As per usual.”

            “What do you mean ‘not exactly'?”

            “I might have texted him and organized a little... meeting....”

            Kurt stood up and Blaine wanted to cry. This was the end. “No. You wouldn't do that. No. You're not that—you're not that stupid.”

            “Apparently I've become more stupid because yeah, I did."

            “Why? Just...why?”

            “I wanted to....” Blaine swallowed, looking back up at Kurt. "I wanted to protect you. I saw what he did to you at Vapiano's and I needed to do something. I couldn't just sit around and wait."

            “I can protect myself. Do you really think going out and getting yourself beat up was going to make a difference? Fuck, Blaine, now he's probably even more furious.”

            “You sure didn't look like you could protect yourself when you were having panic attacks over his name.” Kurt flinched, pulling his knees up to his chest as he fell back into the chair. Blaine instantly felt like shit. “Like I said, he's worse off than I am.”

            “Whatever. You're right. You win. I hope you're happy.” Kurt's voice was so empty and lifeless and alone.

            “I was just trying to help....”

            “I know.”

            “I'm sorry, Kurt.”

            “Me too,” Kurt sighed. "What we're doing...what we're trying to make happen...it's not healthy, Blaine. It's just not.” He slipped out of his chair and the whole world came crashing down. No, no, no, no, no!

            "We can fix this. We can," he insisted. 

            Kurt turned toward the door, making his way across the room. "I dont think we can."

            “We can! We can fix this! We can make this work!” Blaine stumbled off the cot, head spinning as he tried to keep his balance.

            “I'm sorry,” Kurt whispered, shaking his head as he strode towards the door.

            “Kurt! Dont go, please don't go. Please! I need you!” Blaine slipped, knees colliding with the tile as he caught himself on his palms and the tears poured over, dripping to the floor between his hands. “Before you met me, I was alright but things were kind of heavy. You brought me to life now every February, you'll be my valentine, Valentine,” he croaked out, pushing himself up onto his knees as he stared at the now empty doorway. Kurt was still there. He had to be; he could feel it. “Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. We can dance until we die. You and I will be young forever.” Blaine sucked in a breath, bracing his hands on his thighs and trying to get himself under control because he needed him. He needed Kurt more than he needed air. “You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream. The way you turn me on, I can't sleep. Let's run away and don't ever look back. Don't ever look back.” One of Kurt's hands wrapped around the edge of the wall as he slowly came back into the room, pausing and watching. Blaine looked up at him. “My heart stops when you look at me. Just one touch, now baby I believe this is real. So take a chance and don't ever look back. Don't ever look back.”

            Kurt smiled, running the back of his hand over his cheeks and pushing away the tears. “We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach,” he continued. “Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets. I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece. I'm complete.” He strode across the space between them, sliding to his knees as his fingers found Blaine's jaw. “Let's go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. We can dance until we die. You and I will be young forever. You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream. The way you turn me on, I can't sleep. Let's run away and don't ever look back. Don't ever look back.”

            Blaine leaned up, pressing their lips together. And it wasn't perfect. They were both crying too much, Blaine's head hurt a little too much. His lips were cracked and sore and everywhere Kurt's fingers touched seemed to ache but that didn't matter. It didn't matter because it was them and they were together and they were going to figure everything out together. The way things were always supposed to be. They were going to learn to trust each other, they were going to fight again, they were going to worry and yell and cry and kiss and hurt each other but everything was going to be okay.

            And maybe if he repeated it enough times, he'd believe.