The world was spinning just a little too much and he felt a little too lost. This wasn’t just because of the alcohol, he could feel it.

There was some fuckery with his mind again.

Why? Why the fuck did this have to happen now? Now of all times when he was supposed to just don’t give a shit about anything.

“Hey, Kurt, what’s up?” Quinn asked worriedly from beside him.

“I… uhm…’m just feeling a little dizzy.” he mumbled, having to giggle at his own voice. It sounded funny, okay?

“You should probably lie of the beer for a while…”

“No!” he cried, hardening the grip of his beer. “Don’!”

Quinn laughed at him and he furrowed his eyebrows slightly.

Why’s she laughing at me?

“Kurt? Where’re you going?”

“Ehm… Upstairs.” he answered, wiggling his head around, making everything spin even more.

He stumbled through the warm house, trying desperately not to fall. Everything just spun around and nothing was still and it made him dizzy. Making out people, half naked girls dancing on different pieces of now ruined furniture, teenagers vomiting wherever, crying people that would feel really embarrassed if they knew what they were doing, a couple of lipstick-lesbians, dancing drunks and chaos. This was what happened around Kurt as he desperately tried to reach the staircase.

Where’s the damn thing?

He couldn’t find it. It was gone, like it’d just… fucked off to some other place. He kept walking, maybe falling a couple of times, he wasn’t sure. And everything was blurred and fuzzy and warm and the music was loud and there were people everywhere and holy shit he was going to throw up.

“Move… Move, move, movemovemove…” he grunted desperately and all of a sudden he just found the stairs. All of a sudden they were juts there. But… he wasn’t allowed to enter, said a sign.

Fuck the rules. He thought to himself and with a sigh he ripped the pathetic thread down and started to climb the stairs. Or tried to. Because these stairs wasn’t normal. They couldn’t be. ‘Cause they like… wiggled and disappeared just when he was about to set down his foot and stuff and…

“Why’re you –so… mean?” Kurt slurred and hit one of the steps when he’d fallen and hit his knee. He tried to stand up again, only to fall and hit his head in the wall. Smooth.

“Fuck you, you fucking… stairrr…” he muttered. Was it normal to talk to a staircase? No? Well, Kurt thought it was. At least it that moment.

Not wanting to mess up again, Kurt decided to do a sort of crawl-walk up the rest of the stairs, which was still pretty hard too, and once he’d reached the top, a huge grin found its way to his face and he felt proud of himself.... For succeeding climbing up a completely normal staircase…

He rushed into what looked like the bathroom, feeling his stomach starting to live its own life again, and barely had time to reach and open the toilet before the first mouth of already swallowed liquid made its way back up his throat. His body shook with cramps and tears started to swell up in his shut eyes. Fuck he hated throwing up. It made him feel so tiny and helpless. But what he hated even more was that he apparently couldn’t just enjoy himself anymore without having to deal with his head trying to explode.

He hated that he even cared.

Because if this would to have happened a year ago, or even just a couple of months, he wouldn’t have cared this much. None of it would’ve even happened in the first place.

Things were different. Maybe not much, but everything was certainly not as they used to. And fuck he hated that. Things had been better before, not easy, but easier. He’d been allowed to live without his mind constantly trying to remind him of shit that he didn’t need to remember, which he really wasn’t allowed to do now. Of course it had happened before a couple of times, the attacks, that was, but never this often.

And by saying ‘before’, it sounded like he was talking about a time many years ago, but weirdly enough; it was just a time about two months ago.

Things could really change, could they?

Kurt groaned. No. Things couldn’t change. Change just fucked things up. And things never really changed. They just became slightly different. And while that might be the same thing for some people, to Kurt… it wasn’t.

  He sunk down to the floor, pulling his thin legs up to his chest, hugging himself. The floor vibrated from the loud music playing from downstairs, making everything feel… not real, somehow. The music, the people, the smell of vomit… Everything. It was a typical teenage party, but Kurt didn’t feel like he fitted in. He wasn’t a part of the normal crowd, not that he saw himself as special or anything, but he didn’t belong there. As much as he loved partying, this wasn’t… really his thing. Not at that moment at least. Yes, he was kinda sick of Scandals, at least sick of going there alone, but it was still the way he ‘wanted things’. Not only ‘cause it was a gay bar and that if he saw someone hot, he had more than a good chance with them. But it was just what he was used to. Or that was what Kurt though the reason was at least.

 He somehow managed to zone out, and after a while, he had no idea how long, maybe just a couple of seconds, he ‘woke up’, somewhat lying down in an awkward position on the no longer cold floor. Kurt stood up, almost throwing up again at the way his stomach seemed to hate the movement, and walked out of the stinking bathroom. He opened the door located closest to him in the dark hallway, wanting to find a bed of some fucked up reason. But the room wasn’t empty like he’d hoped for it to be, on the bed sat… someone. He couldn’t see who, but there was someone there.

“Hi…” he uttered, hating that his voice came out as a whisper.

“Hi.” answered the boy sitting on the bed, sending chills up his spine. He somehow knew exactly who it was on the other side of the room, just by hearing his voice saying one word, and of some even more fucked up reason, he didn’t feel like he wanted to get out of there. Didn’t feel like keeping himself as far away from the boy as possible.

He dragged himself across the room, feeling a little too sober for his liking, and sat down on the comfy bed as far away from the other teenager as possible.

“Well, well, been crying, Hummel?” Kurt heard him say, but he could also hear that the comment was only half-hearted; he didn’t want to mock him in that moment.

Kurt groaned. This was so fucked up. How many times had that particular though run through his mind these last month? A lot, that’s for sure.

Then he remembered what he’d heard and his eyes widened.

Crying? Him? No. That didn’t happen.

He brought a slightly shaking hand up to his face, and almost let out a little gasp when he found his cheeks damp with what had to be tears.

When had that happened? And, why had it happened?

He hadn’t cried, hadn’t allowed himself to, in years. Except, if he was to believe what Quinn had told him, from during that extreme attack or whatever, but he hadn’t had any control over the situation, so he didn’t count that time.

But now? No.

“I haven’t.” he grumbled, going back to hugging his knees.

A couple of minutes of pretty awkward silence followed before Kurt spoke again. Why did he do that? He wasn’t supposed to talk to him.

“What’re you doing here, Anderson?” he asked, voice not as sharp as he’d wished for it to be.

“Why d’you care?”

Well, there went that conversation.

“…I came here to tell them to turn down the music.” said the boy then, and Kurt almost smiled. What was with him?

“Well that went well. I can barely hear the music anymore.” Kurt said with sarcasm, a smile tugging at his lips.

They kept talking about nothing in particular, almost like they were old friends, and Kurt felt more than weirded out. Because he didn’t do thing like that. Maybe when he was totally shit-faced, but he wasn’t now. And maybe with total strangers, but not with Anderson, who had somehow managed to fuck up his entire life without, barely, being in it. If that even made sense…

“Well… I’m gonna go.” muttered the shorter after a while, and when he stood something suddenly shifted inside Kurt. He threw himself onto the curly haired male, shoving him into the door before he could open it.

This isn’t okay.

Blaine grunted when he hit the hard wooden door, not being prepared for the sudden hit from behind.

Well, that change happen fast. Only seconds ago they’d sat on the bed, talking, and now Kurt was pressing him up against the door, looking at him with gritted teeth and eyes filled with hatred.

“What…the fuck Hummel?” he managed, trying to push the taller off of him, but to no use. He really was stronger than he looked.

“You…” Kurt hissed, his voice so raspy and… dangerous, almost. It sent chills down Blaine’s spine.

“What the fuck’re you –Kurt. Let me go.” he tried to calm himself, finding himself a little freaked out by the look the other boy gave him.

“You…” the pink haired boy repeated. “You stay the fuck away from me. Got that?” he was breathing heavily, pressing Blaine harder and harder up against the uncomfortable door for every second that passed.

“Yea –No. No. You can’t order me around. I know you’ve got some weird issues with me, where the fuck the come from I don’t know, but you can’t just tell me to fuck off whenever you don’t feel like having me around. It doesn’t work that way.”

Kurt seemed almost taken aback for a second by the way Blaine had so suddenly changed, and he took that in advantage, finally managing to push Kurt away from him. Blaine straightened out his jacket, watching Kurt taking a stand that told him he wanted to fight.

“I –would you just stop this? Honestly, I don’t care if we never speak again, but then you need to leave me alone too. Not sort of talk to me and then totally backfire the whole situation, suddenly having the need to beat me up. ‘Cause I’m pretty damn sick of it. And it doesn’t help anyone. So why’re you doin’ this?”

Blaine was more than surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. Where did they come from? And maybe they made things sound almost a little worse than they were, but that wasn’t what troubled Blaine. What troubled him was that he was so able to control his temper in that moment.

“What do you get out of it? Does it make your parents proud?” He barely had the time to finish the sentence before Kurt flung himself towards him, a furious growl escaping his lips.

Wow. What had happened there? He’d really hit a nerve there. But why? Did the boy have troubles with his family? Did they fight a lot or something? That would explain a lot of things at least. He didn’t have much time to think of it any further, soon being busy with avoiding hits aimed all over his body. It was like he’s somehow sent the other male over the edge with his words. But this wasn’t normal. One who just had troubles at home didn’t react this way at the mention of it. Something was a little bit more than off. And deep down a desire to get to know exactly what that was came to life, but at the moment being, Blaine barely noticed it.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, not meaning for the words to come out his mouth. But the harm was already done. Kurt was furious, a little more so than he should be, and when his fist flew across the air amid at his stomach, Blaine wasn’t able to react quick enough to hinder it. He groaned quietly as the air seeped out his lungs and he was done. He wouldn’t let Kurt treat him like that. He hadn’t done anything wrong. So he knot his own fists and swung at the other’s face, but just the second before he hit, his hand stopped listening to him and opened up, resulting in him giving Kurt just a really hard bitch-slap over his face.

“I'm sorry.” Blaine mumbled.

What? What the fuck? I’m sorry? Really? No! Stop it Blaine, fucking stop it!

“You… How’re you doing this to me?” whispered Kurt, grabbing his hair furiously.

“What?”

Doing what?

“You’re… why?”

“I think it’s time for you to tell me what the hell’s goin’ on with you…” Blaine said, slowly walking over to the bed, hands lifted up to the height of his chest as to show that he didn’t want to fight.

“I don’ need to tell you anything.” Kurt spat and made a move to leave.

Something had shifted inside of Blaine, he wasn’t sure what and he wasn’t sure why, and it was most certainly not something that he liked. But at that moment he couldn’t do anything about it, instead he just stood up and walked over to the door and quickly placed his body between it and Kurt.

“Get away from the door, Anderson.” he warned between gritted teeth, not looking at him.

“No.” Blaine said calmly.

Where is all this coming from? Why do I care what he does or how he treats me? What the fuck Blaine?

“What is it, hm? What is it about me that’s so horrible? I know some people fear me or don’t like me or whatever ‘cause I wear a leather jacket and ride a motorcycle, but I know that’s not the case here.” he pointed a finger between the two of them.

“So what is it? Are you jealous of me or something?”

Kurt chuckled evilly, still not meeting his gaze.

“Jealous of you? Seriously?”

“I don’t know.” Blaine shrugged. “I have no idea, so just tell me and I won’t have to guess.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Kurt repeated and Blaine sighed.

“You’re right. You don’t. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

Not having the energy, and not caring enough, Blaine went back to the bed, expecting Kurt to just leave and slam the door shut behind him as he went, but the thin boy just stood where he’d been left, not moving a muscle.

Whatever. I don’t have to care about him. He doesn’t want me to. And I don’t either.

“I…” Blaine heard Kurt breath, back still turned to him. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” What did that mean?

“I can't tell you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know you. I can’t tell you.”

Well. He was right about that. Even though it had sort of felt like they had a couple of minutes ago.

“You’re right.” Blaine nodded. “So stop being so damn angry with me all the time.”

Was he pleading? Was Blaine actually asking someone to stop treating him a certain way?

Kurt was silent for a couple of seconds, Blaine watching his thin shoulders as they rose and sunk at every breath.

“What?” he asked when the boy mumbled something he couldn’t catch.

“It’s not your fault…” he whispered quietly, almost still too quiet for Blaine to hear him.

“What not my fault?”

“That I’m… acting like this.”

“Right… Then what is?”

Kurt sighed heavily. He needed to get out of there. It was dangerous for him to stay. Really dangerous. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave, couldn’t really control his body to move at all. So he just stood there, back turned against the boy on the bed. That boy who had just… fucked everything up.

And they didn’t even know each other, Kurt had said so himself. But it was still something that made it feel like they did, something that made it feel like they weren’t almost complete strangers.

“Why’re you having so much trouble with me?”

Shut up. Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup! I can’t take this! Just leave me alone!

“I’m not stopping you from leaving, so just go if that’s what you want.”

Kurt groaned. Had he been thinking out loud again? Fuck, he needing to stop doing that.

“Kurt, look. I know that there’s more to you than what meets the eye. It’s the same with me… So just –there’s no reason for behaving like an asshole to me. Not all the time at least. I know I deserve it sometimes, but not all the time. And I’m not saying that I want for us to be besties forever now or something, I’m not even saying that we have to get to know each other, I’m just sayin’ that there’s no need for you to shit on my day every time you feel like it.”

Kurt chuckled and shook his head slowly.

“Wow. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were a Saint. I’m so sorry.” he said, voice reeking with sarcasm.

“Okay.” Kurt could hear the other chuckle too, which made him angry to no end. “I get it. Now just fuck off. You’ve made your point.”

Kurt lifted his hand to the door handle, but didn’t open it. He just let it rest on the cold metal, feeling it getting warmer and warmer under his palm for every second.

He was at war. At war with his own mind.

A part of him, most certainly the part who hated him the most, wanted him to tell Blaine about… stuff. Wanted him to tell him that it wasn’t really Blaine’s fault, that it was just that he had… issues with his… appearance.

But there was no way he would to that. No way he’d put himself in that kind of vulnerable place on purpose with a guy like him. It was hard enough to talk to Quinn, and she was the person closest to him, the only one close to him at all, really, so he wouldn’t be able to do the same thing with Anderson.

But… What… Fuck… Why was he so dizzy all of a sudden?

“Hummel? Woah, what the –? What’s goin’ on?” Blaine’s voice became a little higher as he watched the teen’s body starting to shake before falling to the floor.

“Kurt! Hey, what the hell’s happening to you?”

“Noooo!” the body crawled up on the floor jelled with a voice so raspy and full of pain, and shit, he’d seen that happen before. And it hadn’t been a good sign then, so it sure as hell wasn’t now.

    “No! NO!”

    “Sir! Sir, please, calm down –“

   “Shut up! SHUT UP! There’s –there’s…!”

   “You need to come with us. If you could just –“

   “Get away from me! Stop it! No! Get away–!”

Blaine shivered a little at the memory of what had happened next, and at the look on the unknown man’s face by the psychiatric emergency reception. He hadn’t got any explanation to what and why it’d happened, he didn’t know the man so it he hadn’t expected to, but judging by where he was and by the way he acted, he had been everything but right in his mind.

When Kurt turned around to face Blaine again, the look on his face was almost identical. And, frankly, it scared him a little.

This isn’t good. What should it do?

He had dealt with people that weren’t… completely healthy before, having had to take care of his mother since he was around thirteen years of age. But that was his mother. This wasn’t. And this didn’t happen to his mother, not while she was home at least.

And the panic, anger and pain in the pale boy’s face and voice all somehow seemed directed directly at him. Like he was the cause of what was happening.

“Kurt…” he whispered, voice breaking.

“No! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” he screamed, pulling at his dyed hair with bony hands. Blaine wasn’t entirely sure if what the boy was jelling was directed toward him or… someone else. Or something else. He didn’t know much in that situation and if he’d had any control of the situation at all, he wouldn’t have chosen to carefully walking over to the boy, now almost in tears, and trying and calm him down from a smaller distance.

“What’s… happening?” he asked desperately, feeling his heart almost breaking out of its ribcage.

“Don’t –touch… me…” breathed the boy, but Blaine didn’t listen, of some reason. He took a firm grip around both Kurt’s wrist and even though Blaine was pretty strong, he had to use quite a lot of force to be able to hold them down. Maybe the action seemed unnecessary to people not involved in the situation, but to Blaine it did. He didn’t really feel like getting hit. Especially not now when Kurt seemed a thousand times stronger than he usually did, probably being a part of the anger he felt, Blaine guessed.

“Kurt. You need to breath.” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, succeeding better than he’d hoped.

“Don’t! Don’t tell me… what to do!” Kurt screamed back, trying to jerk his way out of Blaine’s firm grip, but to no use.

“What are you doing? Ow. No. Please don’t –” Blaine bit back a sound in pain as Kurt dug his teeth into his hand, trying to force him to let go.

“Fuck… That fucking hurts, cut it out.” he groaned, knowing there was no one listening. He bit his tongue and clenched his jaws when he felt the teeth break through his skin.

That really hurt a lot more that it seems like in the movies. Blaine thought to himself bitterly, still refusing to let go of Kurt’s hands.

“It’s not going to work Kurt.” he informed, but his voice wasn’t as calm as before, and he hoped that he wouldn’t hear the pain in his voice. Because fuck his hand hurt.

But his ‘strategy’ worked, after only a few more seconds, Kurt stopped trying to chew his hand off. He was just about to let out a sigh in relief when pain struck trough his head like he’d just been hit by a baseball bat, and he knew how that felt all too well. But it hadn’t been a baseball bat, but Kurt’s head smashed against his own.

“I’m not letting you go.” He said once he’d recovered from the dizziness accompanying the hit to his head.

Why am I even doing this?

“You… You…” Kurt’s voice was so thin it almost caused Blaine to let go of him… He didn’t, he did something else. He pulled the taller boy into a hug.

What? What the fuck is wrong with me?

This was even less appreciated by the pink haired boy, but after about a minute of struggling, his body went still. Almost a little too still for a moment and Blaine almost got scared he’d passed out. But then he felt Kurt shifting in his embrace, but not to try and get rid of him, but to be able to put his arms around him as well.

The curly haired boy widened his eyes slightly at the gesture, but then felt a sort of comfort from the other boy’s touch.

This is… so fucked up… He thought with a sigh.

“No.” he could hear Kurt whisper suddenly.

“No. Stop.” Kurt flinched violently like he’d been burnt by fire and Blaine quickly removed his hands from the boy’s back without thinking.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows lightly furrowed.

“Stop.” he said again, almost sounding desperate.

“Kurt, what’s –“

“Shut up.” he hissed. “Shut. up.”

“Stop it.” he could hear the pale boy repeat again and again from where he’d started to pull at his short hair again.

“Stop what?”

“Stop it!” suddenly his voice was louder and as he stood up, a tear found its way from Kurt’s cyan eyes and fell down onto the floor.

“Stop reminding me of all I’ve lost!” he jelled before storming out of the room, leaving a confused Blaine sitting on the wooden floor.

What the hell just happened?