For the first time in weeks, Kurt finally decided to get his ass to school. He was out of everything and really felt like eating something other than cornflakes. Living on cornflakes and alcohol really got boring and almost a little… not tasty after a while.

   Seeing Quinn again did something funny to his chest. And he couldn’t even hide his smile when she started beating him up over the way he’d been living the past weeks, pretending to be all mad at him, everything with a grin in her eyes.

   So when she told him, “You pathetic idiot, how dare you even be here right now?” Kurt knew what it meant. I missed you.

   “Shut up you bitch.” he shot back. Missed you too.  

    Sometime after lunch, when the ‘gang’, as always, sat under the bleachers, Kurt realized something.

   “Hang on a minute,” he said, straightening his back and pointing a finger at the boy sitting a couple of feet away from him. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

   “What?” asked Ronnie, looking around her.

   “Him,” Kurt said.

   “Who?” asked Brittany, her herself looking around in confusion.

   “Oh for fuck sake, how are you two even in high school?” (“I could ask you the same thing.” muttered Santana, shooting threatening looks towards him. No one messed with that gal’s girlfriend.)

   When they still didn’t get it, Kurt gave up.

   “Blaine,” he hissed loudly. “What are you doing here?”

   “Oh so it’s Blaine now is it?” asked Mackenzie. “What did you do?” she asked Blaine. “Fucked him?”

   “Yeah, like that would ever happen.” the curly haired boy said, smiling that obnoxious smile like he always did.

   “I swear,” It was Santana’s turn to speak now. “you’re the first and only fag who’ve ever said that about him.”

   “Well, me and Sebastian.” Blaine said, very matter-of-factly.

   “That Sebastian guy,” Sheila said from where she sat on the ground, quite close to where Blaine sat on one of the tables Quinn and Kurt had dragged there forever ago. “Who is he exactly?”

    Blaine shrugged. “A neighbor.”

   “Yeah, you’ve said that.”

   “I used to go to the same school as him.”

   “You’ve said that as well.”

   “I fuck him, occasionally.”

   “That too.”

   “Then I’ve told you all there is to know about him.”

   Santana gave him the finger and Blaine smiled his smile at her, batting his long eyelashes.

   “Is he a unicorn?” Brittany asked him.

   “He is.” Blaine answered, and that was the last drop. For Blaine to know what Brittany meant when she said unicorn, she must have mentioned it before and he must’ve gotten it explained to him. And Kurt found himself really not liking that idea.

   “You kn–“ Santana started, but didn’t get to finish whatever it was she was about to say.

   “Am I air or something?” Kurt snapped.

   “Why are you asking?”

   “Blaine. What the fuck?” he said again.

   “Pipe down, Kurtie, no need to go all crazy on us.” Santana purred.

   “Shut up.” Kurt ordered. He had never felt more not there around that group of people, and he really didn’t appreciate it.

   “What. are. you. doing. here?” he articulated, turned to Blaine.

   “I don’t know? What are you doing here?”

   Kurt didn’t know how to respond. It took him several seconds just to get back the control of his facial expressions.

   “Since when are you besties with Blaine?” he asked the others finally.

   “Since when are you jealous?”

   “I’m not jealous –“

   “Then what are you?”

   “I’m not jealous,” he repeated. “just really fuckin’ confused.”

   “Well, you wouldn’t be if you hadn’t disappeared out of nowhere like that.” Santana said.

   “I didn’t disappear.”

   “No, okay, you became some kind of night animal and started some kind of fucked up booze diet.”

   It took him a second, then he turned his head towards Blaine so quickly his neck almost broke. He stared at the boy, trying desperately not to panic.

   “You told them?” he hissed between his teeth. His voice had never been more revealing of what he felt inside. Panic, anger, desperation and a little bit… sadness, almost, over a broken trust that was barely even there in the first place.

   For a moment the two just stared at each other, or, Kurt stared and Blaine looked. And that look made Kurt’s skin itch. It was that look again, that look that told him once again that to Blaine he was but an open book, that no matter how hard he tried to bottle everything up and hide it, he was always wide open for Blaine to read. But he couldn’t look away. He just couldn’t. The color of the boy’s eyes got to him even though they were so far apart, they still shone with that color that didn’t really have a proper name because no name could really justify how, well, beautiful it was.

   Once Kurt realized exactly what he was thinking, and how everyone’s eyes were staring at them, everyone with different expressions on their faces, he managed to look away. There was a second of thick silence, then Blaine finally spoke.

   “I didn’t tell them anything.” he said calmly, but not the kind of calm he usually spoke in. It wasn’t a mocking kind of calm, just… reassuring.

   “Then why did she just make that remark? I haven’t met her or told her anything.”

   “No, but you met Blaine at Scandals and he said you smelled like you sweated alcohol. And you’re never at school anymore.” Santana said. “Though, the latter one is pretty understandable.” she added.

   In momentary confusion and a little… shame, Kurt looked from Santana to Blaine.

   “I didn’t tell them anything.” Blaine said again. “I promise. I would never do that.” The seriousness in the boy’s face, even in his eyes, took Kurt by surprise big time, and his body did a sort of quiet, inward sigh.

  Looking, or more like staring, from one of their faces to the other’s, eyebrows high on her forehead, Santana had never looked more interested. She wore a faint sort of astonished smile, which could also be interpreted as a disgusted yet amused grimace; it was a typical ‘Santana face’ either way.

   “…What,” she began slowly. “the hell is going on between you two?”

   Kurt cleared his throat and looked around, having the sort of expression that one would get when walked in on doing something very embarrassing written all over his face.

   “Nothing.” he said, making Santana snort loudly.

   “Right. And you’re straight.” She rolled her brown eyes.

   “Fuck you.” muttered Blaine and Kurt felt sort of relieved that he was in on the whole nothing thing. Because somewhere inside him… Somewhere inside him, far, far, far inside him, there was a little voice telling him that maybe there wasn’t as much ‘nothing’ going on between them as he hoped.

     “There’s nothing going on between us.” Kurt snapped when Santana wouldn’t stop smiling that smug smile and looking between the two of them with that glint in her eye.

   “Oh but there so is.” she purred. Every muscle in Kurt’s body was clenched to breaking point; there was just something about the look on her face, about the way she held her body and looked at him and Blaine that made him want to rip her head off or something.

   “Have you fucked yet?” she said, either oblivious to the looks she got from both Kurt and Blaine, or she simply didn’t care.

   Kurt was just about to either step forward and hit the bitch, or say something in hopes to shut her up as well as calm himself down, when, to what seemed to be everyone’s surprise, Blaine snapped.

   “Would you just leave it alone, Santana?” His smile was nowhere to be found, and it made him look about ten times more dangerous than usual. “If we say there’s nothing going on then there’s nothing going on.”

   “Calm down there Bilbo, no need to get harsh.” Santana smirked, but Kurt could see the tiniest hint of insecurity flashing in her dark brown eyes.

    “Just leave it, okay?” he snapped, and that was the first time any of them heard Blaine raising his voice for real. “And stop being so fucking nosy all the time.”

    “I’m not being nosy, just stating the obviou–“

   “Do you not understand English?” It was Kurt’s turn now. Santana turned to look at him and gave a short quiet sort of chuckle.

   “Protecting your boyfriend, are we?”

   Suddenly Kurt's legs moved by themselves, taking fast, threatening steps towards the girl. He didn’t stop until her was only inches away from her, she was standing up as well now and the two stood staring into each other’s faces, noses only inches away from touching. Kurt was breathing heavily, trying his best to keep himself from killing something. Santana's completely calm face didn’t make the situation easier. The rest of the Skanks were at the edge of their seats, so to speak, though just two of them sat down. Blaine on the other hand was debating whether he should step in or not.

   “You know what?” Kurt hissed.

   “What?” And would she just fucking cut it with that voice? It was even worse that Blaine’s for fuck sake.

   “You always act like you’re so much better than us, like you know so much more than us.”

   “That’s because that’s the case.” Santana smiled, and that’s when he realized that he’d choose Blaine’s smooth voice and obnoxious smile over Santana's any day.

   “So why don’t you share some of your wisdom and endless knowledge –“

   “Oh, ehm, pretty sure that’s just about the same thing there, honey.”

   Kurt smiled tensely, feeling how it got harder and harder not to punch her.

   “Shut the fuck up while I’m talking, please.” he whispered. “As I said, why don’t you share something with us? I mean –we’re all oh so close here aren’t we? Practically family?” –He shot the rest of the group a quick look– “Don’t you think it’s about time we did a little sharing, hm?”

   “What’s your game?” Santana asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

   “Why don’t you tell us –let’s see here… what you told me a couple of weeks ago? When I ran into you at Scandals that night way back in October?” It was Kurt’s turn to do the purring now. For every word that left his lips he saw the realization dawning on her face, the fear in her eyes becoming clearer and clearer.

   “I don’t know if you remember, honey, ‘cause, you see, you were so very drunk that night.” Santana finally, unwillingly, broke eye contact. Kurt had never felt more delighted over anything in his entire life. He welled in it, and he was so ready to take the last step.

   “So drunk you couldn’t, oh, I don't know –couldn’t see the difference between your girlfriend –and by the way, that’s that blonde, innocent girl over there, Brittany.” He pointed out. “You couldn’t even see the difference between her face and some random girl’s. So drunk you didn’t even notice it was some random girl –and these are your words, not mine – fucking you against a wall and not your girlfriend.”

You could almost literally see the sweat breaking out of the girl’s pores. God, Kurt was loving this. He never knew how much more enjoyable it could be to break someone with his words than with his fists.

   “Stop it,” she whispered. Kurt grinned evilly.

   “So drunk you didn’t even realize that you cheated on your dear little girlfriend.”

   “Shut up.” she said, voice breaking, only a little, but in Kurt’s mind it was a huge victory. Santana must’ve realized this, and it took her only a fraction of a second to knot her fist. Kurt saw this, and readied himself for a punch to the face, but none came. Instead the girl grabbed both of his upper arms and kicked a knee up in between his legs, and that was so many times more painful than a fist to the face. He sank to the ground, the air emptying from his lungs in a puffed whine sort of thing.

Hands gripping his crotch, Kurt looked up at where Santana stood turned to Brittany, who may be dumb, but not at all stupid. She’d realized exactly what Kurt had just told them. There were tears in her eyes and a look on her face, in her whole body really, that Kurt thought had to be complete and utter heartbreak.

   “Britt…” Santana said, almost too quietly for him to hear. She reached out a hand towards her girlfriend, but the blonde just shook her head, looked at the girl she loved one more time, then took off running out of their sight. Santana stood there, lips slightly parented, and for a second unable to move.

   “Hm,” Kurt said quietly. “Not so smoothly done, Santana, dear.”

   “You shut your mouth you fucking prick.” Santana spat at him then regained the control of her body and ran after Brittany. And Kurt couldn’t help it, he laughed quietly to himself, the laugh become sort of a laugh in pain, because that girl knew what she was doing with that knee.

   “Dude…” Ronnie breathed. “That was… harsh.”

   “Thank you.” said the boy still on the ground.  

   “Kurt, could you come here for a second?” Blaine asked, and when Kurt looked up, he saw that he wasn’t looking at him.

   “What?” he asked, then groaned quietly when he straightened up a little. “Urgh, that girl really knows what she’s doin’.”

   “You alright?”

   “Ehm, yeah, don’t worry about it?” he said, making it sound like a question. “What was it?”

   “You can be really damn scary when you want to, y’know that?” Blaine asked instead, ignoring his question.

   “’Matter of fact I do.” Kurt smiled faintly. “But seriously, what’d’you want?”

   “Right,” The shorter boy looked at his shoes for a second. “Look, you have no idea how much I hate to do this, but could you… could you maybe…” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know, help me out later?” He smiled and blew air out of his nose, seeming pretty uncomfortable.

   “Why? I mean, with what?” Kurt asked, lifting his chin a little higher in the air.

   “Well –I, kinda need help getting to the drugstore.”

   “The drugstore?” he echoed.

   “Yeah, gotta pick up some medicines from my mom and stuff.”

   “And you want me to drive?”

   “Correct.”

   “You want me to drive you to the drugstore so you can pick up some medicines for your mom?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Okay, why not.” Kurt decided, shrugging.

   “Really?”

   “I mean, it’s not like I have something better to do with my sorry excuse for a life, right?”

   “Right...” Blaine said, almost confused; that had went about 502.6% better than he’d expected. “See you in the parking lot later then?”

    “Don’t you have to drive your ride back home first?”

    “No, I, uh, walked here today.”

    Kurt made a kind of snorting laughter noise. “Really?” he asked.

    “Yeah, I was awake anyway.” It had been yet another completely sleepless night, so when the clock had finally turned just after six Blaine had decided that he might as well walk to school since there wasn’t really anything else he could do.

    Kurt asked no further questions; he just nodded and then that was it –the conversation was over and all of a sudden he had plans for later. Plans including Frodo Baggins, more commonly known as Blaine Anderson.
What the hell?

    “So,” Kurt asked, closing the door to the pick up a couple of hours later, looking at the boy in the passenger seat. “where’s this drugstore?”

   “You don’t know?”

   “Well, I do, but I wasn’t gonna mention it; making the younger feel like they know stuff and all that ya’ know.

   Blaine snorted, his triangular eyebrows high on his forehead. “You know I’m older than you, right?”

    Kurt didn’t take his eye of the road, just said, the corner of his mouth turned upward in a smile: “No, you’re not older, you’re clearly at least, like, three years younger than me.”

   “Oh yeah?”

   “Mhm. I mean, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’re like the shortest person I’ve ever seen.”

   “And that makes me younger?”

   “Yes. You’re younger than me and that’s that.”

   “I’m nineteen next September.” Blaine pointed out.

   “And I’m eighteen… sometimes soon –couple of days.”

   “And that makes you older than me?”

   “Yes.”

   Do you want me to fall for you all of a sudden? Blaine thought, looking at the driver. Then suddenly he realized what was going through his head. What the fuck is wrong with me? Like hell I’d fall for that dickhead.
Though I did… kinda askhimforhelptospendtimewithhim… I think? Oh man, I don’t even fuckin’ know.

   “Like what you see, hon?” Kurt smirked, all of a sudden looking straight at Blaine. He cleared his throat quickly, a little awkwardly.

   “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

   “No? Then what?”

   “I was just… Looking out the window?”

   Kurt chuckled. “Right. Since when did you transform into a teenage girl?”

   “Fuck you.” Blaine muttered. Was I staring at him? I was wasn’t I? Shit.

   The rest of the drive was quiet, with nothing but the loud almost roar from the tired car engine filling the thick silence. Blaine couldn’t be sure, but he felt like there was something on the tip of Kurt’s tongue, that he wanted to say but either couldn’t or wouldn’t. When he shot him a quick look just from out the corner of his eye, he could almost see the cogs working inside Kurt’s brain, battling an argument with numerous versions of himself, not knowing which one to side with.

   “Here we are then.” said Kurt. Blaine hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped.

   “Right.” Blaine said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “You coming in with me or…?”

   “Sure, I guess?”

   Blaine chuckled. “What’s with you?”

   “I don't know, just not really used to… doing this I guess.”

   “Do what, going to the drugstore and buy medicines for your mother?”

   “My mother is dead so there wouldn’t be any use it buying her anything.” Kurt snapped. Blaine’s little smile fell.

   “Sorry…” he mumbled, feeling probably a bit more guilty than needed.

   “No, I –“ he sighed. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m a little nervous.” Kurt’s voice was quiet, but he held his head high and had the same look in his eye, trying to show everyone around him that they would do best in not stepping in his way; though, as he so often did, Blaine saw the tiny glint of… something else in his eye. He still hadn’t quite figured it out yet, why he so often could see through the boy’s walls. He’d never experienced anything quite like it with anyone else before.

   “Nervous?” Blaine said with a one breathed little laugh. “You?”

   “Well I’ve never been on a date before.” Blaine looked at him, not really sure what was going through his head. Kurt burst out laughing, like, actually laughing.

   “Joking.” he said. “But I guess I’m nervous because I’m not used to hang out with people except from when I’m drunk or at school.”

   “So you’re nervous about hanging out with friends. Who was the girl again?”

   “Don’t press your luck, hobbit.”

   “Okay, hang out with bros.”

   “Oh now you’re just killing any and every chance you may have had.”

   The drugstore made Kurt feel uncomfortable. Not only because absolutely every single person there stared at the two of them as they entered, but because he just hated the place.

The last time he’d been, his mother had still been alive; she was pregnant with his brothers and she needed some pills that you apparently need sometimes when you’re pregnant. His life now and then couldn’t be more different. It didn’t make him feel sad though. It just made him feel empty.

   “Hello Mr. Anderson,” smiled the woman sitting behind the plastic window thing. Blaine smiled at her.

   “I’ve told you to call me Blaine, Mrs. Day.”

   Kurt couldn’t keep his snort inside, and he quickly pretended to cough.

   “Something the matter?” she asked him.

   “No, no, don’t worry I’m just,” He looked at Blaine. “Allergic.” Kurt smiled, trying not to seem too mocking. “I’m just gonna… go wait in the car.” he added. Blaine nodded and turned away from him.

   It took another fifteen minutes until Blaine was back again, a white little plastic bag in his hand.

   “What scared you away?”

   “You did.”

   “I’m sorry what again?”

   “’I’ve told you to call me Blaine, Mrs. Day’” Kurt said, voice high-pitched, fluttering is eyelashes.

   “Oh come on.” Blaine said with a crooked little smile.

   “’Look at me I’m so handsome and look at my smile and my eyes that illuminates the entire city.’” Kurt went on.

   “Thank you.”

   “Thank me?”

   “For complimenting me –look,” –He gestured at his face.– “I’m almost blushing.”

    Kurt opened his mouth, closed it again, then muttered, “I wasn’t complimenting you, I was making fun of you.”

   “Through letting out your frustration over the fact that you find me dazzling.”

   “I’m seriously gonna push out of the car mid speed if you don’t shut up right now.”

   “Ooh, is that a promise?” Blaine smirked.

   “Shut up.” Kurt just said, voice natural. His face was straight and for once he was pretty sure that he succeeded in hiding the fact that he didn’t really know what he thought of the situation even from Blaine.

   “Make me.” Blaine purred, suddenly way, way, waaay too close for Kurt’s comfort.

   “What the fuck, Blaine?”

   “What?” the boy laughed.

   “What’s wrong with you?”

   “Nothing’s wrong with me, what’s wrong with you?” It didn’t even annoy Kurt that Blaine seemed to be enjoying the situation. He was way too busy trying to keep his eyes on the road; it was something weirdly distracting knowing that Blaine’s face was right next to him.

   “Where’s your sense of living all of a sudden, hm?”

   “Sit the fuck down and stop whatever the fuck you’re doing right now.” Kurt snapped. Blaine made a sort of ‘ha’ sound and plopped down back on his seats.

   “And if you want to still be alive once we’re at you’re house, you’re not gonna say anything for the rest of the trip.”

   Blaine cooed –cooed –in amusement. “Yes, sir.” he said, grinning.

   He stayed quiet for five minutes before inhaling dramatically, showing that he was about to say something utterly…– Blaine.

   “Seriously though Kurt, what’s happened to you?”

   “What’d’you mean?” Kurt muttered back.

   “I mean that you don’t seem to be yourself at all. Like…” –He did some weird gestures with his hands, trying to find examples.– “You admitted you were nervous, you said okay to helping me, you behave like some kind of cilabet woman from the 20’s or something and you’re comebacks sucks –Like, I’m embarrassed.”

   Kurt didn’t know how to react. The urge to hit didn’t come as it usually did. There were no comebacks just coming popping into his head, no witty comments. Nothing.

   What the fuck?

   “I actually don’t –know.”

   Blaine sighed. “See what I mean? Like you’ve never said something like that before. And though I’ve only known you for a couple of months, I don’t think you’re behaving as yourself.”

   Kurt remained silent.

   “Maybe all your juice ran out after that catfight with Santana.” Blaine sniggered mockingly. The drive whipped his head around.

   “Catfight?” he said, though more dumbstruck and questioningly than… Kurt…y.

   “Yeah I mean, come on. Beating her up with words like that? If a version of you from, like, two months ago saw you, he’d be embarrassed out of his pants.”

   Kurt drove the pick-up to the side of the road and stopped.

   “You know,” he said, still looking at the road. “I never thought in a million years I’d say this, but I think –I think you’re right.”

Because, thinking back at the past weeks, he’d really been kind of a pussy. Quinn had left so he’d just… stopped. With everything. Stopped eating and sleeping almost completely. Hadn’t gotten into a fight even though he’d been in school an entire day, hadn’t even had the urge to hit someone or something, at least not as strong as usual. Because sure, he’d wanted to rip Santana’s head off that one time, but it had disappeared without too much effort.
And then there was that little thing, that little fact that he’d stopped every ounce of sexual activity in his life. That was just –that was just upright fucking scary.

   “Holy fuck.” Kurt said numbly. “I’ve turned into some kind of fancy old lady.”

   “Sort of yeah, but a fancy old lady would never wear that,” Blaine gestured at Kurt’s clothes, old and worn almost apart. “and she would never live on alcohol like you have.”

   “Well aren’t you just hilarious.”

   “Hey, look at that, it’s not all lost.”

   “Fuck you.” Kurt muttered yet again. “And you know what, I need to go to Scandals. Right now… in a –couple of hours.”

   Blaine agreed, because even he started to get a bit alienated by what seemed to be happening to the guy. And though this would almost completely take away that little chance of maybe, you know… falling for him in… some way? –No. He would not think of that. It wasn’t even up for discussion. Blaine Anderson would not fall for Kurt Hummel, not today, not any other day. It just wasn’t happening.

   It was cold, dark, and raining like hell. Kurt was sitting in his car in the little all-time shadowy parking lot outside Lima Ohio’s only gay bar, Scandals. His heart was unmistakably beating harder than it should in his chest.

   A couple of hours earlier, Kurt had realized that things were sort of slipping away from him. He was losing whoever it was he’d become during these last years, and he wasn’t liking it. Not one bit. Mostly because the reason it was happening was just because he was completely alone again. That wasn’t a reason for him to stop everything. People kept going with a lot less than that. Kurt had a roof over his head, so so what if the walls were paper-thin, so what if he didn’t really have a lot of luxury food around. So what if he had no one to go through the hell with. It didn’t matter. He’d been alone before. He’d been alone in a house with two other human beings in the same house.

This was nothing.

So the fact that Quinn leaving had started to make him into some kind of weak crybaby was just not acceptable. The fact that he found something that felt almost like comfort while he was with that Frodo figure could not just be swept under the mat and forgotten. Kurt Hummel was not turning into a teddy bear. Not in any way.

   But it wasn’t the fact that he didn’t feel like hitting people anymore that scared him a bit, or the fact that he almost cared for someone he really didn’t want to care for. It was the fact that he really didn’t… give a shit about that. It was like he didn’t have any fuck’s left to give any more about anything. It was if like a huge part of his brain had just decided that ‘fuck it’ was the best way to think. And it wasn’t fuck it in the way that he’d thought before. It was just fuck it to absolutely everything. He didn’t want to get drunk. He didn’t want to find a suitable guy that could ‘make all the problems go away for a tiny awhile’.

And this scared him, yes. This really, really scared him. Because, just to set the cherry on top of it all, he barely even cared about Quinn half of the time. His stomach had done a little flip when he’d seen him earlier that morning, but that was it. After than it had just been… nada. Nothing. Like he’d literally become some kind of part stone creature, like he’d, half of the time, literally lost every sense of feeling apart from just… depressing kind of feelings. There were, as always, more than needed of them.

Everything was a fucking mess. And a huge part of him didn’t even care that it was a mess.

   Kurt shook his head and rubbed his face. He wasn’t going to do this again. He’d already been through everything once at ‘home’, and it wasn’t as if things had ended well there.
No. Now really wasn’t the time when he needed to think about this. Now was the time to get his ass into that building.

   Walking through the dim, crowded, loud room, his jeans rubbed uncomfortable against the open cuts on his thighs.

   “Took you long enough.” shouted the curly headed boy over the unusually loud music.

   “What?” Kurt shouted back.

   “I said that if I’d wanted to I could’ve beaten every world record there is while waiting for you.”

   “Really?” Kurt sat down. “That’s the best you’ve got?” Blaine shrugged.

   Kurt coped with the music volume for about five minutes, then he stood up on his bar stool and shouted from the top of his lungs:

   “Would someone turn the fucking music down I can’t even hear my own fucking thoughts!”

    The reaction was almost instant. Kurt sat down again, not thanking, just shaking his head irritably.

   “Thanks fuck for that.” he muttered, looking around for any suitable married man with a lot of money to buy him a drink.

   It took Kurt about fifteen minutes, then he was done. But not with the music this time, but with the whole situation. It just didn’t make him feel anything worthwhile.

   “I’m going home.” Kurt said right next to Blaine’s ear. Blaine turned around, fast, and all of a sudden their faces were only inches apart, only this time they were both almost completely sober.

It was one of the weirdest things Kurt had ever experienced. It was like… electricity between them. It sounded weird, he knew that, but at the moment that was the only way he could explain it. A part of his stomach he before didn’t even know existed got all weird with him, making him just want to, like, not do anything, just stay there for the rest of time and stuff. Like in movies, some part in his head thought. Like in those old really awful romantic movies were the characters stare at each other and there’s all this epic music in the background, and all you want them to do is kiss each other already, or that’s what the moviemakers want you to want.

Only there was no epic romantic movie soundtrack in the background, only the computer-made dance music that at that moment seemed very distant and sort of… not at all important.

   “I’m gonna –uh –I’m gonna go home.” Kurt said, stood up, cleared his throat, and almost ran out of the building.

   What in the fuck’s name was that all about? Kurt almost screamed out loud. That weird eye contact thingy that had just happened had only lasted for, like, two actual seconds. But all of a sudden his –everything had gone on high-speed and slow-motion at the same time.

   “I have got to get a grip of myself.” he breathed.

   He stayed outside, standing in the middle of that all-time shadowy parking lot for he had no idea how long, getting soaked to the bone. For minute upon minute he just stood there, face tilted upwards, letting the ice cold rain hit his face until he could barely feel it anymore.

 Once he finally decided to drive home, it was nearly four o’clock in the morning. He couldn’t feel his toes, he couldn’t feel his fingers and his face was just a mess of flesh and skin that he couldn’t really feel.

   There was one thing, one thing that he just couldn’t shake off. One thought accompanied with an image that nothing but pounded in his head all the way home and even into his dreams once he managed to finally fall asleep for a couple of hours in the early morning hours.

The imagine of great, big, shining eyes that had not one color but millions, merged together, forming a never ending ocean of beautiful. Eyes that would, almost certainly illuminate any dark room they entered.

And along with that image there was a voice, or maybe more like a million different voices, screaming, but the one he heard the clearest told him:

    Get a grip of yourself. This is not you. You do not feel these things, you do not think like this. Run away. Run away, Kurt. Don’t let those eyes drag you in; don’t let those eyes trap you. You’re going to regret it. Don’t get involved in things you can’t handle. Don’t expose yourself to this, don’t let yourself do this. You’ll only get hurt again. Listen to me, I know you. I am you and I’m telling you,

Run away.