Blaine stayed at the booth the next day, which was a Friday, and then didn't move from it all during the weekend except to relieve himself. He restocked his alcohol and cigarettes, courtesy of Sheila the skank and her warehouse hookup, and otherwise filled himself up on beef jerky and chips when the rumbling in his stomach was too much to bear.

He spent a lot of that weekend crying. More than he ever had when he had been beaten by his dad or the kids from his old school, more than when his mother lost her vision, more than when Cooper left home and there was no one there to protect him anymore from his father.

Blaine would never have admitted it to anyone, but he could cry better than most girls could if he let himself.

On Monday he dragged himself to school, because no matter how shitty he felt, he didn't know what else to do and didn't want to end up having to repeat a grade because he was heartbroken. Even though he was physically there though, he wasn't there mentally. He felt like a robot, going from class to class, writing down notes, and keeping to himself - all automatic.

Now and then, Kurt would try to talk to him, but Blaine didn't respond, and Kurt eventually gave up. Tina and Mike tried to talk to him too, and again with no response. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want anyone to try and make him feel better. He wanted to feel like shit. He deserved to feel like shit.

And Blaine didn't know why he kept going to Glee club either, but he did. He watched as they tried to get a couple of the musicians to dance because they needed more bodies for sectionals, and had an inward conversation with himself about how he'd usually find watching those guys try to shuffle around hilarious, but how it was having no effect on him.

This was Blaine Anderson's week. Each day the routine was followed. Each day he thought he might feel better. Each day he seemed to feel worse.

It also turned out his meals of jerky and chips had dire consequences on his bowels.

Then when he was smoking, as he had started doing on every single break and lunchhour under the bleachers, Kurt saw him. It was Thursday and Blaine was finishing up his third pack of the day when Kurt walked by, talking with Rachel and saw him there, hungrily sucking up that too sweet smoke. Blaine saw his eyes round and hang for a second on Blaine, and Blaine just took another puff as he kept his eyes back on Kurt.

Then Kurt frowned at him, and it was like another knife through the heart.

So Blaine did all he could do, and opened a new pack, because having Kurt look at him with such disappointment made Blaine want even more smoke in his system.

He managed to get through the week though. Managed to get to Saturday and even got himself to the Lima Bean for a coffee to help with his now usual hangover.

"Well lookie lookie." Sebastian purred as he invited himself to sit across from Blaine. "I thought I saw someone worth something over here."

That made Blaine chuckle over his coffee rim. It had to have been a joke, because of all the things he had been feeling, worthwhile was nowhere on the list.

"Where's the boyfriend?"

Blaine shrugged up his shoulders and took a sip of coffee. He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to tell Sebastian that he'd been right and Kurt wasn't with him anymore.

His lack of response though seemed to speak volumes and Sebastian smiled at him. "Well, guess I'll make myself comfortable then."

Blaine didn't need to talk, because Sebastian talked all about the Warbler win at sectionals last week, told him that New Directions was a joke, and invited him to join the Warblers - because, as Sebastian told him, he would figure out how to pay the tuition just to get Blaine with them.

Blaine wasn't interested. The last thing he needed was to be a homeless kid in a blazer.

But he did appreciate the not so subtle compliments Sebastian gave him and the bedroom eyes he was making at Blaine. If things continued to suck, at least Sebastian would probably let him fuck the anger out of his system. Of course, Blaine was still too numb to want to think about that... at least not yet. His cock had spent the week hibernating.

When his coffee was empty and he went to get another, he was more than a little surprised to see that Kurt had taken over his seat and was snapping back and forth with Sebastian in his absence. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but by the looks on both boys faces, it wasn't friendly. Blaine hung back for a couple seconds, not sure of what to do, if he should go to the table, or let them duke it out, but when Sebastian looked over and smiled on seeing him, he knew he didn't have a choice but to keep walking.

"Well. I have things to do. I'll see you later killer." Sebastian said, standing and leaving his spot open now for Blaine, who slumped down across the table from Kurt. He didn't meet his eyes, and played with the rim of his coffee cup when he uttered, "What do you want?"

"I want to make sure you're alright. I meant what I said last week. I love you still."

"But you don't want to be with me." Blaine forced out. He didn't like the way it sounded.

Kurt huffed a little, "Blaine. It's not like that. I just... it's a big deal to me, what you threatened to do to Santana. And it doesn't mean we're not together... we're just on a break."

"Fuck being on a break. We're either together or not Kurt. I'm not playing that game. It didn't work for Ross and Rachel, why the fuck would it work for us?" Blaine shot back, now staring at Kurt angrily.

Kurt pressed his lips together, silenced for a second by Blaine's outburst and apparently trying to think about how to respond.

"You look like hell Blaine..."

Blaine didn't need Kurt to tell him that. He hadn't bothered to shave, he was rewearing days old clothing, and he probably stank like cigarettes and booze even though he still forced himself to shower.

"... and on top of what you did to Santana, you were lying to me about smoking...."

"My fucking body. Let me kill it how I want."

Kurt didn't respond to that, just kept going with what he intended to say.

"... and I don't know if you're... you. I don't know if I can trust you."

Blaine looked down into his coffee, watching the steam float off the surface of the dark brown liquid. On a normal day he would have put a good amount of sugar and milk into it, but he had started taking it black. He couldn't stomach anything sweet.

"I just need some time to figure things out. That's all. I love you though... please tell me you know that."

"I know you say it..." Blaine said to his coffee, "... but I don't feel it."

That elicited a sigh from the boy across from him, whose hand snaked across the table to gently brush against Blaine's hand. "I do. Please. Give me time."

Blaine didn't respond. He just kept staring at the liquid in the cup and tried not to focus on that simple little touch and how much he wanted to just take Kurt and hold him and be held back. How much he needed to be touched to know he was loved.

His silence was what Kurt grabbed his stuff to, and left the Lima Bean to, once again leaving Blaine behind, frozen in spot.

If only Blaine could make his heart freeze up so he wouldn't have to feel its pain.

Blaine considered skipping Monday, but he was out of cigarettes already and so he needed to go to McKinley anyhow to buy more off of Sheila. Sheila, who thanked him profusely for funding her addiction to leopard print panties when he gave her a twenty.

Another day of sitting and being lectured in various classes. He wrote a test, which he hadn't studied for, and didn't even remember anything off of once he left the class. In cooking, he just let Brittany do all the work while he sat in place and twirled a spoon between his fingers. He knew they had failed the assignment the moment Brittany told the teacher that salt was just sugar's mean older brother.

In glee, Finn and Rachel brought in Sam, who they had gotten from a strip club four hours away. He led the club in singing Red Solo Cup, and while Blaine just wished his cup was full of real alcohol and not sparkling cider, he watched as Kurt looked at the cup with disdain and disapproval. Kurt was too good for Blaine, so he was definitely too good for a plastic cup.

When the singing was over, Santana sashayed in and listed off some insults she had clearly been saving up for Sam's return, and when Sam hugged her, she looked over his shoulder in surprise and locked eyes with Blaine.

Blaine wanted to punch her still.

He left after that, ignoring Mr. Butthead's call that they needed him to practice their setlist for sectionals. He needed a smoke. He needed it five minutes ago.

Once he was outside McKinley's doors, he lit up, ignoring the fact that he was supposed to smoke off school grounds and a teacher could write him up if they caught him. He didn't care.

"So, how's rock bottom?"

Blaine snapped his head back to the doors, glaring at Santana as she stood there with a smug smirk over her stupid face.

"Fuck off."

"Mmm... maybe later, with my lady love Brittany." Santana said as she sauntered towards Blaine. "In the meantime, before you end up in the hospital with lung cancer by the end of the month, I think you owe me an apology."

"Why? So you can hold it over my head? Fuck that."

"I'm not actually interested in your head curly. What I am concerned about though is my boy Kurt. You may be so immersed in your pity pool that all you see is you, but he's clearly hurting too. So, for him to feel better, you need to apologize to me and then it can all be put behind us."

"I don't need to fucking apologize to you. You've been nothing but a bitch to me and the one time I give as good as you deserve I'm the one who gets in shit."

"Well, that's part of my charm. I get to be a nasty bitch and people expect it and embrace that about me. You actually are expected to be a little bit more than that, at least by Kurt."

"I don't like you."

"Believe me curls, the feeling is mutual - but I need you to help Brit pass cooking, and to make my boy Kurt happy - because for some odd reason he likes you, so I'm willing to pretend we get along for their sake."

Blaine studied Santana's face, and she arched an eyebrow as she waited for his response. What was her angle?

But Kurt....

"Fine. Sorry."

"See? That wasn't so hard was it? Now I'll tell them we patched things up and things can all be better."

Blaine rolled his eyes, and Santana leaned forward and whispered.

"Though, if I were you - I'd take a bath, shave, and drop the cancer sticks before I approached Kurt. You stink like homeless shelter."

Blaine glowered at her as she grinned to herself and walked away.

Bitch.

Remember to buy a blanket. Remember to buy a blanket. Damnit Blaine. Remember to buy a goddamn blanket.

That was what Blaine kept repeating to himself throughout the next day. Fall was definitely in full force in Ohio, with the threat of winter arriving soon. Since there was no heat in the booth, Blaine had spent the last night piling up all the clothes he had on top of himself in an attempt to keep warm - a failed attempt for that matter.

So he didn't get a good sleep, and now was in booty camp practicing moves with the rest of the glee club as they prepared for sectionals. They only had three girls with Tina, Quinn, and Rachel - and it showed in their moves. Generally they had a pretty equal number of boys and girls, but now it was almost like they were that damned Dalton prep school with the amount of sausages around.

"These moves are fucking lame." He spat finally. They had just been doing the same things they had been doing when they had more girls, and they really needed to change things up since there was more guys. "We should be doing something more like this..."

Blaine didn't know where it came from, or why he decided to put himself at the center of attention, but Mr. Butthead really liked the moves he showcased for everyone and clapped it on. The girls also clapped for him, but there was a noticeable lack of response from the boys in the room.

"You've got it all wrong Blaine. We need more of this!" Sam responded, doing some ridiculous stripper thrusting.

"Oh yah!" Finn said, trying his best to mimic the move and looking like a complete ass.

"Fuck no. I'm not some B-grade porn star." Blaine snapped at the both of them.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Sam snapped, and Blaine snorted back at him.

"It means the only moves you have are aimed for old women who put money down your tighty whities. I'm not exactly an angel, but I'm not for fucking sale."

Given how angelic Sam seemed last year, the last thing Blaine expected was the shove he got from Sam, but he was able to push Sam back against Finn.

"Fuck this!"

Blaine stormed off once again, and to the workout room. He wrapped his fists and began punching the bag in there - again, and again, and again until his hands were numb. Fuck them, fuck the club, fuck their little holier than thou attitudes. He didn't need glee club. He didn't need any of them.

Again, and again, and again. Punch, and punch, and punch.

He heard Finn come in before Finn spoke. Finn had this heavy footed way of announcing himself.

"You know what people don't get?" Blaine spit as he kept on punching. "That the world doesn't care about them. You get told just how much of a piece of shit you are over and over again, and you fuck up over and over again - then, by chance, you start to feel good about yourself. Maybe it's because you're doing well in school, or you get the lead in a play, or because someone loves you... but no matter what, the world is just going to find a way to shit on you again."

"Dude... don't you think that's pretty harsh?" Finn muttered from beside him after shuffling up in his awkward giant way.

Blaine kept pounding the bag. "No."

"You... uh... pretending that bag is Sam?"

"Sam..." Punch. "You." Punch. "My dad." Punch. "Santana." Punch. "And more."

"Me?"

"ESPECIALLY you."

"Dude... why?"

Blaine spun to face the much taller boy, snapping at him. "Why? WHY?! You have NEVER been even polite to me. I don't expect you to like me. Hell, I don't even like me. But I am... was your brother's boyfriend and all you've ever done is glare at me and been rude to me."

Finn seemed taken aback and then quiet for a moment. As Blaine was turning back towards the punching bag, Finn spoke up.

"It's because you've got the best voice in glee club... and can actually dance. I was... I mean I am jealous."

"So? I'm not out to replace you." He swung at the bag, not wanting to take too long of a break from punching it. It felt good.

"Yah... but... dude... come on."

"Stop fucking calling me dude. And it doesn't matter. I only joined fucking glee because of Kurt and there's no reason for me to go back."

"Du- Blaine. Sorry.... and we need you. Please come back."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You only need me to make twelve. Not interested."

"No... we need you because you rock... and because even if you don't think you are, you're kind of a big deal."

Blaine panted, leaning his forehead against the bag. He had just hit it so hard that the force had gone right up his arm and into his shoulder and now it tingled. "Don't you get it? There's no reason for me to go back."

"But... Blaine... please?"

"I don't want to."

"Kurt misses you."

Blaine stayed silent after hearing that. He didn't know what Finn's angle was in telling him that, but he knew that even if Kurt missed him, it was nothing compared to how he missed Kurt.

"Santana told us that you apologized to her and all... and that was real big of you."

So she had said something. So what? It hadn't changed anything. He felt the blood rush back into his hands and the burn fill them as the numbness was ebbed away. He was going to regret his hard hits all night long when he was crying trying to pick up a beer.

"She was more mad at me... since I actually outed her. Man... did Kurt give me hell over that. Never seen him so angry... and that's saying a lot because I accidentally borrowed his Vogue magazines to make a collage for a class assignment."

Blaine smirked a little as he imagined that. "What're you doing Finn? Why are you trying to get chummy with me?"

"I just... I want to make things good."

"I don't want to go back."

"Please Blaine. We really do need you."

Blaine looked over, seeing the big lug with his hands in prayer form in front of him as he actually was begging to Blaine. Blaine let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't be an ass."

"Please?!"

"Fine! Fuck! Honestly... I'll do it just so you stop annoying me."

Finn made a whoop and jumping in the air with a fist pump to the air. He waited until Blaine had unbound his now bloody knuckles ("Dude! I didn't know you could punch it til' you bled!"), and wiped off his sweat. They went back to the choir room together and Sam walked up to Blaine with his head hung and mumbled a half ass apology that he was obvious put up to by the others.

They continued with their practice, and Blaine caught Kurt looking at his hands every now and then with a frown stretched across his face.

Sure... now he cares because the pain is visible.

He had forgotten to get a fucking blanket and last night was colder than the last. He was exhausted and now he had to be part of a fucking song and dance routine that determined whether or not their little high school musical group advanced to regionals.

There was not enough caffeine in the world.

Blaine watched in a still trance as someone Kurt referred to as "the gerber baby" sang on stage. Pretty decently too for that matter. Then was the Troubletones with their sassy edginess courtesy of Santana and Mercedes, and finally the New Directions were up.

Almost everyone in the club, except for the filler pieces they got from the band, had a singing part tonight. No one screwed up that Blaine could see, and the audience even got up to dance along.

So it was no shock when the judges came back and proclaimed them the winners. Blaine looked to the side of the stage, seeing the Troubletones with their sad little faces. He kept his gloating to himself.

"You were... really amazing tonight." Kurt said to him when he finally came over after hugging everyone else in the club.

Blaine shrugged. How do you respond to that? Well, thank you maybe would have worked, but Blaine just felt awkward around Kurt now. All he wanted to do was hold him, and he couldn't, so he didn't know what to say or do.

"Anyhow... I just... thanks for coming back."

Blaine again shrugged. He could have said You're Welcome to Kurt - that would have been the polite thing to do, but knowing his mouth it somehow probably would have gotten translated as We Should Fuck once it was transmitted from his brain. Better not to talk.

The silence hung between them for a moment more and then Kurt shuffled off, seemingly unsure of what else he could say. Blaine let out a breath he had been holding, watching Kurt's back and then walking behind stage and out the back door to the lot with his waiting motorcycle.

He had a blanket to buy after all.