Kurt always tended to sleep soundly when he knew Blaine was near. In his arms or in the next room, he always slept comfortably. And more often than not he dreamt of him. Sometimes, in the morning he was embarrassed by those dreams, as Kurt often thought them like a ridiculously clichéd romance novel. Blaine at the grand piano, rooms of white and flowing fabric. The both of them bare foot and grinning, dancing on the sand under a bright full moon. Needless to say there were countless romantic follies jostling for Kurt's subconscious attention.

It was from one of the more raunchy dreams, the image of himself spread out on some Parisian chaise longue with Blaine kneeling on the floor beside him and determined to kiss every inch of him that he slipped into consciousness. Reluctantly he let reality seep in, leaving the Parisian sunset and Blaine's heavenly mouth somewhere safe in the back of his mind.

After the ordeal Blaine had had Kurt thought better of slipping into his bed with him while he slept, instead choosing to doze by the window in the living room. This unsurprisingly left him with an aching back to accompany the aching in his hips which he pointedly decided to ignore. Soon he realised that both him and Blaine had slept until well past noon and this worried him greatly.

Kurt had a very limited knowledge of the effects of Methadone and not knowing what it could do unsettled him. That combined with the advice of Dr Lin had him moving towards Blaine's room in order to wake him. As he'd told Dr Lin himself, Blaine and sleep did not have a very good track record so knowing he'd allowed him to sleep for so long made him anxious.

Once in the bedroom Kurt made straight for Blaine's sleeping form. Earlier that day he'd been out like a light but it looked as if he'd become restless, the sheets tangled haphazardly around his legs. Blaine's eyelashes fluttered wildly every few minutes and Kurt took it as a sign to proceed with caution. He crawled onto the bed, careful not to jostle it and therefore startle him.

"Blaine," he called softly, placing a hand on his forehead to sweep away the tousled curls. "Blaine honey, wake up." When Blaine didn't stir Kurt took to peppering his face with kisses finally landing a soft kiss to his parted lips, but still Blaine didn't wake. Kurt tried calling his name louder but to no avail.

Blaine was not a particularly heavy sleeper; his unresponsiveness caused Kurt to panic. With shaking hands he pulled back the sheets slightly, leaning close. Blaine's breathing was slightly stilted and his eyelashes continued to flutter, the glimpse of his eyes moving franticly behind the eyelids.

All at once Kurt could tell he was dreaming, and it must not have been pleasant. Those few minutes between sleep and waking are muddled the journey from nightmare to consciousness a perilous and tenuous one. Blaine's breathing picked up and Kurt reached out to do something he never should have. He shook him.

Blaine's eyes snapped open; he was awake but clearly not entirely present. His eyes fell on Kurt, still close and palms pressed to his shoulders and he looked terrified, so scared he was shaking. The only sound audible was Blaine's hitching breaths. He tried to shrink back into the pillows but Kurt moved with him.

Every second that ticked by was a second closer to hysteria; Blaine's breathing bordering on hyperventilation. With every shift, he would whimper and the pained sound became too much for Kurt and he reached out to touch Blaine's face. That's when it happened.

"NO!" Blaine screamed and there was a deafening silence before Blaine's palm made contact with Kurt's left cheek. He thrashed wildly against him, tangling further in the sheets and crashing to the hardwood floor. Kurt was thrown to the other side of the bed clutching his stinging cheek, tears falling fast and hot. "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed again voice cracking on a sob. He scrambled to get away from the bed, bringing the night stand tumbling down.

The lamp and glass that was on it shattered on the ground but Blaine paid it no heed in his haste to escape. He clambered straight over it, the sharp jagged edges tearing at the skin of his palms, forearms and shins. With glass buried deep and breathing erratic he cowered in the corner of his bedroom, his eyes wide open hardly daring to blink and muttering ‘please not today, please don't Jake, please please please'.

Jake. Blaine thought he was... Kurt was sobbing, eyes wide in horror as he tried to get closer to Blaine but every time he tried he froze once more. Blaine flinched with every small move he made towards him. He was staring right at him, his tea stained eyes filled with fear as he watched him, though it didn't really look like he was seeing him at all.

Blaine was dizzy, his head spinning from lack of oxygen. His lungs were trying to heave in air but he always seemed short of it. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, feel the slight numbness in his arms but still his eyes stayed open.

He could see him. Hovering a small way away, shifting irritably like a pacing predator readying to attack its prey. The image was blurry, a vague silhouette of a figure but Blaine was sure it was him. No doubt he was probably just as hungry. He always was, always insatiable but that didn't stop Blaine from hoping he wasn't. Praying he'd had his fill of him after the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth time.

He could smell it, the stench of stale cigarette smoke, sweat and the whiskey on his breath. He was inching closer and with every bit of distance crossed Blaine's voice grew louder. ‘Please no! Please don't! I don't want to NO! Please!'

His panic grew and his vision swam until...

"PLEASE JUST KILL ME INSTEAD!"

He rushed at him and Blaine felt a scream build in his throat before something was taking his hand, holding him tenderly, so softly and threading their fingers through his. The last thing he registered was the scent of fear and hate succumbing to one of jasmine and vanilla before the world went black.