Everything felt wrong.

The world was still falling to pieces as Blaine went, and yet it felt like there was a large gap missing from himself as well, like he was steadily crumbling, too. The one thread had been pulled away that had held him together and here he was, unraveling.

Coop had held him that night, asked him over and over what was wrong, but Blaine couldn't bring himself to say the simple words. He didn't want to say them. Then he'd have to admit how true they were and he just couldn't do that then. It wasn't until the next morning that Blaine had woken up on the couch, Coop lying on the floor, that he'd managed to choke out a simple, "We broke up."

Blaine stared at the ceiling, lying in his bed. The house was quiet, but for Coop downstairs, watching TV and moving around. He could hear the creaks in the floorboards and the soft sound of rain pattering against the window, like fingers drumming against the glass. His phone was beside him on the side table, stupidly hopeful that things could go back to the way they were and Kurt would simply call him and tell him it was all alright and things could just be normal once more.

Being away from Kurt had to be done. They couldn't see each other without the other being in danger. It just hurt him so badly to not be able to see Kurt. 

"Blainers!" Coop called from the bottom of the stairs. Blaine groaned and rolled onto his side. "B, can you come down here for a minute?" he yelled when there was no reply. Coop waited a second and then huffed. "B, I know it hurts, okay? Maybe you could just talk to me at least?"

In the days that had passed all Coop had heard about their break up was that it was a mutual sort of thing. Kurt and Blaine had both agreed that it needed to happen, but by Blaine's response Coop seemed to believe that even if that was true, Blaine hadn't wanted it to happen. Blaine couldn't think properly enough to come up with an excuse yet, but he racked his brain, searching for a lie that Coop would be able to believe.

"If you don't talk to me right now I'll just come up there and have a one-sided conversation with myself in your doorway," Coop muttered.

Blaine heard him climbing the stairs.

He pulled the sheet over his head before Coop was even in the doorway, making a cave of darkness around himself, blotting out the light. He heard the door swing open and the creaking floorboards and then, "B, seriously?"

"Hmph," he replied.

There were more creaks and then he felt Coop sit down on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on Blaine's side. Blaine didn't say anything, and Coop huffed again. "I want to help," he said, shifting closer, "but I need you to talk to me, okay? I'm sure that whatever happened is for the best, right?"

"We agreed to break up," Blaine mumbled into the pillow. 

"Why?" Coop asked, sounding pleased that Blaine was talking.

Blaine shifted away from Coop. "Because...." he started, and then thought a second, biting down on his lip. 'Why?' "Because we agreed that...." he sucked in a breath of air, buying time. "...we just didn't have enough in common," he finished lamely. Then, without thinking, quickly added, "The spark just fizzled out."

Cooper didn't say anything for a moment, and Blaine could feel his posture shifting awkwardly. "Bullshit," he muttered under his breath. "Blaine-"

"It's not bullshit," Blaine said immediately.

The blanket was tossed away and Blaine squinted into the sudden brightness. Coop stared at him, concern and uncertainty written clearly all over his face. "I'm being serious," he said steadily, watching his brother. "I just want you to be happy, B."

He nearly started to say, "But I am happy," but he knew Coop wouldn't buy that. "I'll be fine," he said instead.

"You've been in your room for three days practically," Coop said, sighing. "You've been crying all this time and you-you seem out of it. Maybe you two need to talk and work this thing out and things will be alright. You and Kurt are close and maybe some things were said that didn't need to be said and-"

"It wasn't like that," Blaine said, cutting him off.

"Blaine-"

But Coop was interrupted again-by the sound of the doorbell chiming through the hall. Blaine stared at Cooper who glanced back at the door. "Finally," he muttered, standing and moving across the room to leave. Blaine stared after him. 

"Coop, who is that?" he asked.

"Nobody," Coop yelled back.

Blaine felt his stomach sink, "Cooper Anderson-"

"Just calm down, B," Coop called out. "It's not Kurt if that's what you're thinking."

He exhaled and relaxed slightly. As much as he wanted to see Kurt, he couldn't see Kurt. They couldn't talk things out. Things just were. 

A few minutes later Blaine could hear footsteps moving up the stairs-more than one pair. He sat up in bed, pulling his legs towards him, and staring at the door. Two bodies popped inside-the first being Coop, the second being Wes. Wes looked over the room before he examined Blaine. He sighed, shaking his head. "I've got this," he said quietly to Coop who grinned and gave Blaine a thumbs-up before disappearing.

"Wesley-"

"No," Wes stopped him. "Do not tell me that you'll be alright or that it was meant to be or whatever else, Anderson. I'm going to sit right beside you and you are going to tell me exactly why the hell you broke it off with the love of your life and you know that I can tell if you're lying to me."

"Love of my life?" Blaine echoed as Wes pulled over the chair from his desk and sat down. "Seriously Wes?"

Wes just stared at him expectantly.

"Stop that," Blaine said after a minute. "That's just creepy."

He didn't reply.

"Wes...."

"Blaine."

Blaine swallowed and sighed. "You aren't going to leave, are you?"

"Not until you talk to me."

The look on his face told Blaine that he wasn't joking. He licked his lips. "It was mutual," he started, but Wes just scoffed. "Alright, so I said it was mutual," he amended. Wes paused and nodded, accepting this as truth. "We realized that there wasn't much in common for us and things just didn't work out. Okay?"

"Why so torn up then?" Wes asked, folding his arms. "You've now become a kicked puppy."

Blaine rolled his eyes, but he still felt numb inside, so maybe the facade he was putting on wasn't that well prepared. "Because, Wesley, I did fall for the guy and even though it was something that obviously needed to happen it hurt."

"It hurts," Wes corrected stubbornly.

He bit his lip. "Okay, yes, it hurts."

Wes held something out. A coffee cup. Blaine took it gratefully, holding it between his hands, feeling the warmth of it as steam curled out. The scent reminded him of Kurt-soft eyes looking at him over the lid of a cup-but the need for coffee and the delightful smell made the feeling waver enough for him to push the memories away. "Thanks, Wes," he murmured, taking a sip. 

"Did Kurt seem too happy about this?" Wes asked, his voice softer.

Blaine took another sip, trying to keep the actual question from sinking in so he could just spew out another lie. "Well he wasn't happy but he wasn't...me."

Wes nodded. "He cares about you."

He didn't reply, staring at the coffee.

"Not in the same way but I'm sure you two can still be friends," Wes said hopefully.

He knew that Wes was just trying to be helpful, but the words seemed to sting. "Yeah..." he mumbled. "I guess."

"I just want you to be happy, Blaine," Wes said just as Coop had.

Blaine nodded numbly. "Thanks."

They sat for a little while, Blaine sipping at his coffee as Wes talked about anything else to distract Blaine. Blaine was building up the mask to which he would hide behind even as he spoke, taking in what Wes and Coop wanted to hear, and planning what to do if he saw Kurt. He was building another armor around himself, another facade, and it somehow felt twistedly familiar. He so often lied to his family and friends anyways that it wouldn't be too hard. That was just his life, he just had to live that way.

Kurt wasn't in class the next morning. Blaine was slightly disappointed and relieved at the same time when he walked in and saw the empty seat. He wasn't as lucky the next class. Kurt came in late, looking slightly breathless and as always beautiful, and his heart gave a jolt. On instinct, Blaine gave a small smile before his thoughts flooded over him and reality came crashing down-pieces crumbling down, down, the world and himself falling apart...He swallowed and looked away just as Wes turned around and gave him a small smile.

He could see him pass out of the corner of his eye and buried his head in his textbook in order to avoid eye contact. 

"You okay, Blaine?" Wes asked later as they left quickly. Kurt was still stuck in the room.

Blaine nodded numbly. How long would he have to do this? Would he get used to seeing Kurt and not being able to smile at him or kiss him gently? The idea alone seemed impossible. 

"He looked shaken up," Wes said. "When he saw you, I mean."

"Yeah..." Blaine mumbled, trying not to listen. 'Don't tempt me into talking to him, Wes,' he thought. 'This is all for the best.'

It sure didn't feel that way though.

It was at the end of the day, just as the bell chimed throughout the school, signaling freedom, that Blaine heard the smallest of beeping. He bit down on his lip and continued down the hall as his neck stung slightly. Blaine made his way outside and walked down the street, keeping his head down. About a block later he darted into the shadows and started running, looking around cautiously to make sure there was nobody around.

The tint of the lenses tainted the world darker. There were crowds of people gathered in the park, gasping and screaming in panic. 

"It's Silver Spark!" someone yelled.

The crowd picked up the call and people cheered and yelled out worries. The voices all merged into one, a buzzing murmur in Blaine's head. He pushed through to the front, people parting to allow him easy access.

In front of the small stage set up in the park was a man, dressed in all black from head to toe. He was tall and thin, his arms crossed over his chest. A small smile played on his lips and he was watching Silver emerge from the crowd with patient, hungry eyes. Blaine swallowed, unsure exactly what he was getting himself into.

"Silver Spark," he grinned, moving a step forwards. He walked with a certain elegance.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Silver replied, smiling back.

The man nodded and winked. "Panther," he said. "Friend of Acid's," he added with a sly smile. "I've been hoping to meet the great Silver: conqueror of crime."

"That's me," Silver said, continuing to move towards him steadily. "I'm assuming you've already been warned then?"

He tilted his head and mocked confusion. "Of what?"

Silver gave a small, sad smile. "Of me."

Panther laughed, short and harsh. Silver was standing about ten steps away from him, still moving slowly. Panther let him walk, watching with a sideways grin, waiting it seemed. Blaine was nearly in front of him when the slightest sound reached his ears-metal scratching. Something sharp as metal, sliding free from something. He looked down at Panther's open hands-his fingers were tipped with claws, razor sharp, long, and glinting in the sunlight.

'Okay, well things just got a little more difficult.'

He stretched out one, claw tipped hand, and even with the distance between them it nearly touched Blaine's throat. "Well, Silver Spark, I hope you've been warned," he said softly, smiling, "about me."

The gap was closed and the hand moved quickly, slicing at the air. Silver jumped back, willing the suit to be agile and quick, as his mind ran over what to do. 

Panther's hands cut through the air over and over, slicing madly and without care, and Blaine jumped back and dodged the throws, his eyes scanning the area. They were just at the edge of the park, buildings stretching up on the tips of the grass. He backed away, Panther following with a malicious grin. Silver stopped when his back hit a glass door, and just as Panther threw out his hand again, he ducked. The glass hit the metal with a shrieking sound that made Blaine cringe. The glass cracked and shattered, raining around him. He stumbled backwards through the broken doorway.

"Running, running, always running," Panther cooed.

Silver stopped in front of a wall, feeling for it behind him. "What're they up to?" Blaine asked, keeping his voice low and serious.

"Who's they?" Panther replied. He paused, watching Silver curiously. 

"Whoever you work for," Blaine stated, making his voice firm and authoritative.

He smiled, moving his fingers absently, sharp claws clacking together. "Oh Silver Spark, what a funny question," he smirked, walking towards a desk to the right of Blaine. He took a seat on the top, one, long talon scraping at the wood. When he raised his head, his eyes were darker. "What do all of them think of you?"

"Who's them?" Blaine asked.

Panther smiled. "You are cocky." He tilted his head. "Them-the public."

"They feel safe," he said simply.

Panther laughed shortly. "All of them? You like to think that they all feel safe because you're going around fighting those who only fight you? Maybe at first it was all fun to see you saving a kitten from a tree, but they must be getting pretty sick of all of the trouble Silver Spark has caused."

Blaine's hand pressed against the wall, balled in a fist. "As long as they're safe that's all that I need to keep helping," he said.

He rolled his eyes and brought his hands together, clapping. Metal scraped against metal and Blaine resisted the urge to cringe again. "Spoken like a true hero," he laughed. "Oh really, bravo." He smiled. "They all hate you."

"Doesn't matter," Blaine snapped.

"Isn't it lonely?" he purred. "Being Silver Spark, nobody knowing. Tell us about your family, huh?" He grinned. "You're a real person, you know that. I know that."

"What do they want?" Blaine repeated angrily.

Panther shrugged. "You done." He turned his head slightly, staring out the door with the shattered glass. The walls around them were solid, blocking out the outer world."You're just a show," he murmured. "A part in their daily life that's exciting to watch, but a pest none the less. And a show. A show they can hate or they can love but they don't have to involve themselves in at all." He looked back at Blaine. "You could tell me, and they'd never know," he said softly. "And you could walk away from all of this. Who needs Silver Spark?"

Blaine swallowed. He glared at Panther, stretching to his full height, and shook his head. "It doesn't matter if they see me and they hate me. It doesn't matter how lonely it gets. If people need help then I'll help them, no matter what."

He shook his head and stood, moving his finger over the desk slowly and carving into the wood. "That, unfortunately, was the wrong answer."

Silver was ready for the impact as Panther threw himself across the room, lunging to skewer him. He moved his body away from the wall at the last moment as claws grabbed for his throat. They stuck in the wall, pretty deeply too, and Panther tugged once, but they were embedded. Blaine picked up a chair, ready to throw it, when Panther started to laugh.

"You're a joke," he snorted, shaking his head. He couldn't actually see Silver, and Blaine couldn't actually see him, but he seemed hysterical. "You're a joke. Silver Spark won't last forever. He never would." 

He pulled back, harder this time, hands detaching swiftly from the wall, and turned, his eyes alight and crazed. "Oh no, Silver Spark won't last forever."

He sprinted for the wall and held out a hand just before he hit the window. Silver ran after him, but the glass shattered and sprayed and he stumbled away to avoid the shower. Another one was gone. Another one lost. 

Sirens wailed outside the walls and voices shouted and called, sounding angry and awed and scared and excited. A whirlpool of emotions, like a hurricane spinning.  Nobody entered the building, and the sirens began to fade away. Blaine walked over to the desk and stared down at the lines that Panther had been carving. He couldn't see it at first, but he tilted his head and realized he'd been writing: Silver Spark will be no more.

Blaine exhaled, pressing his forehead to the wall and closing his eyes. He couldn't let someone like Panther get to him. He wasn't a joke. What he'd said had been true: wherever there is someone in need, he'd be there, helping whether they hated him or not.