And I die when you mention his name. And I lied; I should have kissed you when we were running in the rain.  What am I darlin? A whisper in your ear? A piece of your cake? The boy you can fear? Or your biggest mistake?

Cheers, darlin' – Damian Rice

                They had returned to Blaine's via an off-licence.  Thom had bought two bottles of sparkling rosé wine in honour of ‘old friends' and Blaine had bought a bottle of Captain Morgan's dark rum, three cartons of pineapple juice and a tub of Ben and Jerry's Karamel Sutra Core ice-cream.  The rain had not let up so they were pretty soaked despite Thom's umbrella by the time they finally reached Blaine's room.  They'd started on the drink and the ice-cream whilst they caught up with the last year of each other's' lives, both avoiding talking about the events of that evening.  It was Thom who ‘cracked' first as he started on the second bottle of wine.

                ‘You know, I'm sorry, Blaine.  I'm such a fuck-up.'

                ‘Hey, what's that for now?'

                ‘I mean…  Look at you.'

Blaine raised his eyebrow and gave Thom a disbelieving look as he made his way to the tiny freezer in search of more ice-cubes for his drink. 

                ‘You're you, Blaine.'

                ‘I am aware,' he laughed.

                ‘No.  I mean.  I mean…you're you.  Looking like you do and smelling like you do and sounding like you do…'

Blaine frowned slightly as he made his way back to sit on the bed next to Thom.

                ‘Blaine?'

                ‘Yes, Thom?'

                ‘Could you have loved me you think?'

                ‘Thom, I…'

                ‘I know – you love Kurt.  You'll always love, Kurt.  But could you and I…do you think?  If things had been different?'

Blaine put down the mug he had been using as a glass on the small bedside table and turned to face Thom gently taking his friend's mug of wine away from him and placing it next to his own.  He took Thom's hand then and gently ran his thumb over the back of Thom's knuckles.

                ‘We'll never know, Thom.  But this isn't good, you know?  This isn't about me, or us.  Not really.  You know that too.'

Thom really was beautiful right then with the first rays of the sunlight stroking his glossy dark hair, his pale cheek.  Thom's dark eyes drew Blaine's and in that moment there was nothing, nothing but the beautiful man in front of him.  His eyes traced a path down from Thom's turbulent eyes, across his cheekbones and down to his soft pink lips.  Blaine licked his own lips subconsciously as his eyes flickered back up to meet Thom's.  Blaine realised numbly that Thom was crying – not the full heart-wrenching, body-racking sobs of earlier in the cathedral but silent rivulets of pain and anguish and despair.  Blaine closed his eyes and turned away from his friend.

                ‘We're both drunk and tired and emotional.  I'm going to try to go to sleep now before one of us does something we will regret in the morning.'

                ‘It is morning,' Thom's reply was breathy and so quiet.  Blaine sighed and turned back to face his friend.

                ‘I know.  And one of us has work in…' Blaine checked the time on his wrist watch and grimaced, ‘less than 6 hours.'  Blaine overbalanced slightly as he went to retrieve the two mugs and was stabilised by Thom's strong hand on his hip.  ‘Thanks.'

                ‘I don't suppose we could write this off?  Wake up tomorrow and go back to before?'  Thom smiled sadly at Blaine but he did not remove his hand from Blaine's side.

Blaine's mouth felt dry and he struggled to swallow.  The warmth of Thom's hand seeped into him and his stomach reeled.

                ‘That was the plan.' 

                ‘You're a good friend, Blaine.'

                ‘No, I'm not.'  He replied as he made his way to drop the mugs into the small metal sink.  He turned on the tap and splashed the tepid water onto his face.  He felt rather than heard Thom move behind him.  Blaine turned slowly to see Thom inches away from him torturing his bottom lip between his teeth.  Blaine huffed out a breath.  ‘Thom, I…'

                ‘Shhhh….'  Thom placed a clumsy finger gently to Blaine's lips.

                ‘Thom, stop…'  Blaine tried to talk around Thom's slightly rough finger but Thom's knotted brow and fractured eyes made Blaine stop.  He raised a slightly shaking hand and placed it on Thom's shoulder, pushing lightly.

                ‘It doesn't matter, does it?  None of it matters anymore.'  Thom traced a drip of water with his finger as it clung to Blaine's chin.  Blaine took a step back into the kitchen work surface.  Thom took a step closer, his body pressed flush to Blaine's, one leg pressed between Blaine's.  Blaine could feel the hardness of Thom against his thigh.  Snakes unfurled in Blaine's stomach as Thom pressed Blaine back against the side, his one hand cupping Blaine's cheek, the other against the counter pinning him. 

                ‘Kurt.  I can't.  Thom, stop.  I love Kurt.  I can't…'  Blaine wasn't sure whether it was panic or desire or lust or disgust that coursed through his veins like little sparks.  He couldn't think straight.  He wriggled to try to move out from beneath Thom, but Thom pressed more of his bodyweight against Blaine to still him, dropping his head to Blaine's shoulder, his lips ghosting at Blaine's neck.  ‘Please, Thom.'

                ‘Let me love you, Blaine.'

                ‘Thom, please.'  Blaine could hardly get the words out.  He felt himself beginning to respond to Thom physically – he had been semi-hard for most of the evening.  At first he had put it down to the way Thom's shirt had clung to him when they had first escaped the rain.  Then he had written it off as a side-effect of a physical, attractive body, an emotional evening, and too much alcohol.  Now he was not so sure.  Thom could feel Blaine as well as Blaine could feel Thom.  Thom seemed to take Blaine's arousal as a green light and began to nibble, suck, and kiss his way up Blaine's neck to his jaw.  Blaine pushed against Thom pushing him away and backwards.  Thom's eyes caught Blaine's registering hurt and confusion.  Blaine screwed his eyes shut tightly and took a calming breath.  Then another.  And another.  There was no sound but the hammering of his heart and his jagged breathing.  It took effort but he eventually opened his eyes.  He sought out Thom's – he tried to convey his own remorse, his own guilt and pain.  Thom's eyes dropped his.

                ‘I think we need to sleep this off.'

                ‘I…'

                ‘Not now, Thom.  Not now.'

Thom closed his eyes and nodded slightly. 

                ‘I'll sleep on the couch, if you still don't mind if I stay.'  Thom opened his eyes and looked imploringly at Blaine.  Blaine felt a tug in his chest.

                ‘I wouldn't kick you out, Thom.'

                ‘I wouldn't blame you if you did.'

                ‘There's a spare blanket in the chest over there.  Grab one of the pillows from the bed.  I'm going to have a shower then I'm going to sleep.  We won't talk about this again.  We've both had a long and stressful day and too much to drink.  There's nothing to talk about.'  Blaine grabbed his sleep shorts and a t-shirt from under his pillows, tossed one onto the sofa as he passed it and locked the bathroom door firmly behind him.  He rested his head against the door for a moment then turned the shower on as hot as it would go.  He didn't allow himself to cry until he felt the scalding water cleansing him. 

When Blaine re-emerged from the bathroom, skin pink and tender, he half expected Thom to have bolted.  Instead he found him sitting cross-legged on the made-up sofa bed.  Thom's eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks bore tell-tale rivulets of dried tears.  Blaine walked past him towards the sanctuary of the bed but was stopped by a gentle hand grasping for his forearm as he passed.

                ‘I… Blaine, I am so, so sorry.  Just with Matt saying all those things about my past… I can't get his voice out of my head.'

                ‘Don't cry, Thom.'  Blaine's voice was soft as he joined Thom on the sofa.  Thom gingerly rested his head against Blaine's shoulder and Blaine rested his against the crown of Thom's head.  ‘You are worth so much more than him.'

                ‘I'm not, Blaine.  I wanted to…'

                ‘But you didn't.'

                ‘God, I…'  Thom's body shook with tearless sobs.  Blaine wrapped his arms around his friend and held him.  He wasn't sure how much time had passed when Thom eventually stopped.  ‘Blaine?'

Blaine hummed in response not trusting his voice.

                ‘Thank you.'

He gently pressed a kiss to the top of his friend's head.  Thom pulled back slightly and looked up at Blaine. 

                ‘I love you, Thom.'

                ‘I love you too.'

                The weeks passed, show after show blurring into one.  Blaine had begun to feel as if he was living the same day over and over.  The only things that broke the monotony were Kurt and Thom.

Each day that passed was another day closer to the next time Blaine would see Kurt.  Thom had begged Blaine not to tell Kurt about that first evening.  Blaine had stubbornly insisted that he had to. 

                ‘But nothing happened, Blaine!  He'll just fly off the handle and he'll never forgive you and I'll never forgive myself if he leaves you again because of me.'

                ‘If nothing happened, Thom, why would he leave me?'

Thom had shaken his head and glowered at Blaine at that remark.  It was the first and last time they had mentioned that evening.  They hadn't really spoken about that first awful night since.  Instead they had gingerly overcompensated with each other for days – Thom was the perfect house guest, he cleaned and cooked and asked Blaine how each show went.  Blaine accompanied Thom to his rehearsals on his nights off, helped him with bits of composition and was there for Thom when he collected his things from Matt's place.  As the weeks passed they began to settle back into simply enjoying each other's company as they had before.  New, fresher, better, cleaner memories of walks in the city and meals out and walks in the park began to push the events of that terrible evening to the side.

Blaine had quickly told Kurt about Thom staying with him and about Thom's break-up.  He had honestly intended on telling Kurt everything but Kurt flew off the handle quickly enough over the innocent version that, after he had finally calmed Kurt down, Blaine hadn't the energy to go into much more detail.  Thom had been grateful for that.  After Blaine had told Kurt that Thom was staying with him until he sorted out his head and found more permanent lodgings Kurt had started calling Blaine more frequently.  Blaine had bitterly pointed the fact out to Kurt, hurt that Kurt did not trust him.  He swore he could feel Kurt's bitch-glare from London down the phone.  Kurt had refused to return his call for a week after that argument.  Thom had noticed something was off with Blaine and had done everything in his power to cheer him up.  Thom was almost back to his old self again – he smiled freely, the dark shadows in his eyes had vanished with the sunlight.  Blaine was glad to see his friend mending.  He'd learnt since through members of the choir that Thom had been miserable for months before Blaine had arrived. 

                ‘No idea what you're doing to him, but keep doing it!'

Blaine had grimaced at the subtext of the comment and had reiterated that their relationship was purely platonic.  The last thing he needed was a rumour to somehow get to an already paranoid Kurt.

Instead a rumour got to Blaine.

                He was on self-destruct.  He knew it.  He dashed between anger, hurt and betrayal to self-loathing pity and disgust. 

                How can you even think that Kurt could do something like that?

                I did.

                Hate to break this to you but he's not you.  You saw what your admission did to him.  You saw his heart break.

Blaine had gone to call Kurt the second he had heard, but he had instead thrown his phone across the room. 

                It isn't true. 

                Of course it isn't.  What do you think calling him to accuse him would do?  He'd take it as admission of your own guilt. 

                Once a cheater…

Blaine balled his fists into his eyes and took a deep breath then reached blindly for the three-quarter empty bottle of dark rum.  He hardly felt it as the alcohol burned his throat. 

                Stop it.

                Man up.

                Get up.

                You would deserve it.  Payback is a bitch.

He drained the bottle and threw it against the wall.

                Fuck you.  Fuck you.  Fuck you.

                No…  he didn't.  Isn't that the problem?

Blaine heard himself scream before he was aware he made a noise.  His throat was raw and his eyes burned.

Someone opened the door.  Thom.  He was at Blaine's side in a heartbeat heedless of the broken glass carpeting his path.  He held Blaine just as Blaine had held him and rocked him, peppering Blaine's damp curls with kisses.

                ‘How…?'  Blaine managed.

                ‘What is it?'  Thom gently sat Blaine upright and held his shoulders as he searched the dull honey eyes of his friend.

                ‘Kurt.  He fucking…'  Suddenly Blaine was laughing, hysterically. 

                ‘You're scaring me, Blaine.  What's wrong?'  Thom shook his friend lightly trying to get him to snap back to him.

                ‘Fucking,'  Blaine made out between fits of painful giggling.  ‘He fucking fucked some guy, didn't he.'

Thom frowned.

                ‘Blaine, no.  Did he tell you himself?'

                ‘Of course not.  I'm half expecting him to show up here with a bunch of fucking roses and a terrible song.'

                ‘Stop it.  You are being ridiculous.  Who told you?  How do they know?'

                ‘Everyone.  Everyone knows, Thom.  I'm always the last.  Well, except you.  You always know everything before I do.  I'm so gullible.  God.'  The sobs returned then, shaking Blaine to his core. 

Thom slapped him, hard.

                ‘Stop it!'  Blaine's eyes flicked up to meet Thom's.  Thom was distraught.  He hadn't known what else to do.  Blaine was silent and still.  His eyes dark and unreadable.

                ‘You're right,' Blaine said eventually.  ‘You're right.'  Blaine went to stand and Thom helped him up.  Blaine pushed him away then began searching for something.

                ‘What are you looking for?'

                ‘My phone, Thom.'

                ‘Why?'

                ‘Because I'm going to call him and ask him, obviously.'  Blaine threw a look at Thom.  Thom shivered.

                ‘I'm not sure that's the best idea right now, Blaine.'  Thom approached him as you would a startled deer.

                No.  A dangerous animal.  Smell that?  That is fear.  He thinks you've lost it.  So do I.

                ‘I think it is a marvellous idea.  I'm going to call him and ask him.  No point in getting myself all worked up if it isn't true is there?  I mean, you're my friend – you must know what's good for me.  You are my friend, aren't you, Thom?'

Blaine's expression was unreadable.  Thom swallowed. 

It all happened so fast – one second Blaine was bending to pick up his phone, the next he was on his side vomiting and fitting.  Thom's heart skipped a beat as he rushed to his fallen friend's side.  He pulled his own phone from his pocket and hurriedly tried to call 999.  He was glad at that moment that he hadn't had to unlock his phone to dial the emergency services – his hands were shaking too much and all thoughts had fled his shock and fear addled mind.  He'd stroked Blaine's hair absently with one hand after the fitting had stopped as he waited for the ambulance crew uttering strings of reassuring nonsense to the both of them.

                It was midnight when she received the call.  She was glad that it was so late as she broke almost every speed limit to get to the site.  Her heart was hammering in her chest as she drove, she hadn't been aware that she was shaking until she got back out of the car and tried to walk to the dark office building across the abandoned airfield.  She stumbled twice but made it to her desk.  She logged on and waited.

                So it is true.

She frowned as she looked at the state of the file.  How could it be corrupting again?  She thought her last program had fixed it.  She thought this time it would be OK. 

                With this rate of degradation…

She willed herself not to voice the thought.  As if by not thinking it it would not be real.  She moved her hand and almost spilt the coffee that had appeared next to her.  Someone else was there.  Probably the tech that had been monitoring the program.  She silently thanked him and got to work.