Blaine clicked the lighter, igniting his face in a rosy glow as he raised it to the cigarette he had already poised to his lips. He inhaled deeply, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"God," Kurt muttered, rolling his eyes. "Those are awful for you, you know."

"You say as you roll your second joint of the day?" Blaine replied sarcastically, kicking Kurts shin gently, pushing him toward the edge of Kurts futon that theyd been draped across for what felt like years. Everyday for the last two weeks, theyd been stopping at Kurts after school, taking turns strumming on his guitar or scribbling shitty teenage songs into a well used notebook.

"Shut up," Kurt snorted, tossing said joint on to the table night stand, smirking slightly. "Weeds a soft drug, less cancer."

"Ill just die faster than you then, you can enjoy your increased chances of schizophrenia," Blaine joked, pulling his knees against his chest and watching as Kurt examined the back of the pack of smokes.

"Oh, get off your high horse, you smoke weed too."

Blaine grinned, reaching out to tousle Kurts hair. The mood changed, as it does, from joking to a type of messed up flirting the two of them engaged in daily.

"Im straight," Kurt reminded him, for the third time that day.

"Me too," Blaine replied, his eyes twinkling, bending forward to press his lips against Kurts neck.

"Fuck you," Kurt whispered, turning around to catch Blaines mouth with his own. This, too, was a daily occurrence. They stayed like this for a bit, lips struggling hungrily, biting and sucking. It was kind of disgusting, in a totally hot way.

The beginning small notes of the first song on the record repeated itself and Blaine broke the kiss to change it.

"What do you want?" Blaine asked, leafing through Kurts CD collection.

"You have good judgement," was Kurts reply, rolling his shoulders so one sleeve hung low on his shoulder. He bit his lip and tried to look as seductive as an awkward 16 year old could, even if he masked his age with enormous amounts of eyeliner.

Blaine sighed, starting from the beginning, this time picking a few up and examining the back with a quizzical look.

"I cant decide if I hate or love your music taste," he stated, raising his eyebrows.

"Huh?" Kurt replied, sitting up slightly and running his fingers through his hair.

"Bloodliner, Fields of Death," Blaine read aloud. "Featuring tracks such as Fuck you, Fuck me, and Fuck everything." He paused. "Is this real, because holy shit."

"Shut up," Kurt laughed, tossing a pillow at Blaine. "What time do you have to be home?" he asked on a passing thought.

"Not for a long time, why?"

"Okay, Im going to play this for you, and let it blow your mind," Kurt grinned, slipping off his bed and grabbing the CD from Blaine, popping it out of its case and slipping it into the CD played hed had installed in his bookshelf.

"Seriously?" Blaine snickered, letting Kurt lead him back to the bed by his wrist.

"Just wait," Kurt hushed him, laying down across his mattress. They laid and listened to the genre-less mess that was Bloodliner for a full hour before Blaine decided it was time he left.

"I should probably head back," Blaine told him, sitting up, disrupting the warmth hed created.

Kurt let out a low whine and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, "Alright, see you tomorrow?"

"Bye! And you will definitely see me tomorrow!" Blaine said, as a reply, leaning forward to peck Kurt on the cheek as he pulled his boots on over his mismatched socks.

"Bye," Kurt replied, standing to switch off the CD that was screeching some poem about science at them.

And Blaine left.

"Home!" Blaine called, slipping off his boots and tossing them into the closet.

"Blaine, honey, welcome home," his mothers cheery tone rang down toward him. "Cmon up we want to talk about something."

"We?" Blaine replied, pulling off his coat, and half heartedly hanging it on the hook. "Whos we?"

"You, me, and your father," his mother said. Blaine could imagine the exact scenario right then, and shuddered at the thought.

"Alright?" he phrased it as a question, and slowly began climbing the staircase, two at a time.

His mother sat at the end of the table, while his father sat next to her, looking a mix of angry, uncomfortable, and apologetic. His mother however conveyed no emotion other than bliss.

"Whats up?" Blaine asked, sitting across from his father and quirking an eyebrow.

"Have you heard of that private boarding school, Dalton Academy?" his father began, his voice soft.

Yes. "No," Blaine lied.

"Its a great school, uniforms, a lot of clubs, high standards, zero tolerance for bullying."

"Oh," Blaine replied, unsure what to expect.

"Tuition was tough, but, weve gotten you a spot; youve been enrolled in Dalton Academy!" his mother quipped, looking at him through prettily framed eyes.

"What? Is this a joke?"

His father looked awkward. "Well, uh, you see, weve noticed some strange behavior in you recently, hanging out with Kurt and his band of skanks. Youre wearing eyeliner for Gods sake. You- Your clothes reek of smoke and weed and God knows what else," he stumbled, glancing at his wife for support.

Blaine stared at the table, his gaze hard, "Im staying here."

"Blaine," his mother whispered, giving him the look of disappointment only mothers could give. "Please, you can still see us and your friends on holidays and weekends, and its only for a few years."

"Mum," Blaine replied, in the same tone. "But, my life is here, my friends, my school, my band, me and Kurt have a band, weve been working on so many songs. Cmon, dad?"

"Blaine, weve already paid, its been arranged, you leave tomorrow," his dad spoke quietly.

"Tomorrow!?" Blaine exclaimed. "How the fuck do I leave tomorrow?"

"Blaine! Language," his mother quipped.

"In answer to your question, its a two hour drive and you will be dorming there so you cant see Kurt," Blaines father explained. Blaine was furious, they couldnt just send him away.

"You cant just send me off to the middle of nowhere and expect me not to find a way out of this," Blaine interjected, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You will be watched very carefully at the school. The school is a place for rebellious teens to be disciplined," his mother informed. Blaines eyes widened.

"Dad!" Blaine protested weakly. "Please."

"Enough," his mother stated. "Blaine, its been arranged, you have 12 hours. Please, just, do this, for us at least, if not for you?"

Blaine wanted to kick a wall or set himself on fire. Something to be an example to his parents that he wasnt something they could push around and ignore like this. But instead he stood and stalked to his room. He pulled out his phone, trying to sum it up in a single text.

"Im transferring, not my choice. See you later," was all he could muster to send to Kurt. He closed his eyes and pretended not to hear the custom ringtone hed set to Kurt. He slowly fell asleep listening to the soft vibration of an incoming call.