‘I...I need to talk to him.  Is he there?  Put him on, Rachel.

He can hardly breathe his chest feels so tight - his free hand clenches and unclenches, he feels damp all over - is this what having a heart attack feels like?

            ‘Thats not going to help, Kurt.  Anyway, Douglas, Dougs father, the mother, and Blaine all disappeared off-

            ‘-Im going to get in a cab and Im going to join you, and Im...Im going to talk to him - whats the address?

            ‘Kurt just...just stop.  Stop and think for a moment -

            ‘-No.  Im done thinking about it, Rachel.  I need to do something.

            ‘Oh...theres shouting.  Shush a minute.

            ‘Shouting?

            ‘Shhhh!  Im trying to listen!

Kurt hurriedly packs as he waits - now that Rachel has mentioned it he can hear raised voices.  Perhaps that is good news?  Maybe it means that it is not true - that Blaine had not chosen someone else over him...because that cannot be the whole story.  Not after they just started to reconnect.  Not after Kurt held out his heart for Blaine to hold again.

            ‘Whats the address, Rach?  He needs to know.  He needs to be doing something.  He needs to get the address and he needs to call a cab and he needs...he needs to see Blaine...he needs to hear it from him...

            ‘Shhh!  Someones coming out!  There is a scuffle and the sound of heels on wood flooring.  ‘Ive got to go.  Ill call you back!

He stares, open mouthed, at his cell phone.  She hung up.  She dropped that on him and then...without even giving him an address...  He runs a hand through his hair, grabs a fistful, and tugs.  His vision blurs and his throat constricts.  He thought his heart would never heal after that fated conversation over a year ago in Battery Park: Blaine had told him that he had cheated, and Kurt had felt like he was going to die.  He had thought that there could be no worse pain.

Kurt was used to not getting things - before Blaine it had been the story of his life, hell, even after he had first met Blaine all those years ago - it had taken Blaine ages to see what was right in front of him...but then Kurt had started to win for once.  For the first time he had come out on top.  He and Blaine were supposed to be it for each other.  Blaine had been the one person he had felt safest with aside from his own father, and then...

It had taken time to realise, but he had never stopped loving Blaine.  Even after everything.  He had thought that they had meant something to each other.  He had thought that Blaine still loved him...it was not supposed to end like this.

A pounding on the door drags him up from the floor from where he had sunk on shaky legs.  For a moment he thinks of leaving it for Santana to answer - but the other woman is at work.  He is alone.  He fists, then palms his eyes quickly in an attempt to clear them, and makes his way to the door.  In his hand he clutches his cell phone tightly, unable to put it down.

He has barely gotten the door open before the other man is pushing his own way in.

            ‘Kurt - weve got to talk, alone.  Are you -  Kurt nods dumbly and stares at Sebastian.  ‘Good.  So - Blaines in trouble.

            ‘You know?

            ‘Know what?

            ‘Hes engaged.

            ‘Hes been "engaged" for months.

            ‘No - theres a ring, and an announcement, and a huge party -

Sebastian frowns and seems to actually notice the state that Kurt is in.

            ‘The Blaine I packed off to Southampton this morning is not in a state to be making any decisions about his own life, Kurt.  Yes, theres a...a ring, but its not that simple.

            ‘Well apparently it is because its happening.  It comes out like a bark.  ‘I cant believe this is happening.  Kurts vision blurs again and the sea rushes in his ears.

            ‘We need to talk to him, alright?  He needs an intervention, and we need to talk to him, because he is not okay.  He had taken something last night, Kurt.  He had taken something and I spent the entire night worried sick because I couldnt get him to stop...stop throwing up.  I thought he was going to die.

            ‘What?

            ‘Exactly.  The Blaine you and I know - he would never have done drugs, Kurt.  Never.  So tell me again - do you think he sounds like he knows what he is doing?

-+-

            Blaine struggles to keep pace with Douglas as the older man strides towards their room having taken leave of his mother and brother.  Blaine is certain he catches a glimpse of Rachel half-hidden in the relative dark of the billiard room as they pass: he knows she must have been listening-in.  He chooses to ignore her, focusing instead on Douglas - he can attempt damage control with Rachel and Doug later.  He pretends not to have seen her, and instead keeps his focus on Douglas.  The other mans shoulders are taught, his posture straight as a ram rod, and Blaines mind rushes to provide him with a plan.  The slam of the door behind them as they enter the Blue Bedroom reverberates, but there is no resultant cloud of dust from the tops of the sills, or the heavy gilt frames - a testament to the staff, Blaine supposes.  Douglas pauses then, one hand braced against the footboard of the bed.  He is trembling.  One touch, Blaine knows, and the wall will either crumble or freeze - he hopes for the former as he knows he needs to keep this discussion reasonable, and there is no way Douglas will listen to him if he hides his pain, hurt, and anguish from Blaine now.

Blaine choses to sit in one of the bedroom chairs and wait.

            ‘You want to leave.  It is a statement, so Blaine is unsurprised when Douglas says nothing in return.  ‘We should stay.  Not to protect your mother from scandal but to show a united front.  You and I.  He swallows thickly but continues, knowing that the lack of interruption from Douglas means that the other man is listening.  ‘What she did...Im sorry, Douglas.  Im so sorry that they did this to you, but you are so much better than them.  If theres one thing Ive learnt from you its how to be strong.  Running away wont solve anything.  You know that.  His gaze shifts from the hunched figure in the semi-darkness before him to the moon-lit white of the gardens.  The branches are bleached bone against the velvet sky - they rattle ivory knuckles against the glass of the windowpane beside him.

            ‘Youre right.

The words make him jump a little with their sudden volume.  Blaine nods in the darkness and lets out a shaky breath.  He releases the glimmer of hope he had held, feather gentle in his chest, at the confirmation that they would have to face the mob downstairs again.  They would face this together.  He glances back towards Douglas prone form, but there has been no movement.  Blaine turns again, his gaze slipping back towards the skeletal army that stood sentry along the borders of the grounds in military ranks.

            ‘Come here?  Douglas words are soft and uncertain.  Blaine watches as cloud gradually blankets the light from the world, before turning and taking his place beside the other man.  Fingers tremble as they hold him close - freezing and seeping into his skin even through the layers of formalwear.  Blaine keeps breathing though his chest feels tight and his limbs are trapped - tangled as they are within Douglas.  Douglas who was so strong, and certain...  Douglas who fought for him...who cherished him...who loved him.

Realisation is not an ice bath or a stinging slap to Blaine.  It is lead - heavy like porridge in his gut.  Regardless of who did what to whom with whom, regardless of the whole sorry tangle of affairs they had created, Douglas is a friend.  He is a friend first and that is all that matters - the rest can be dissected and dealt with later.

His mind steadied, Blaine softens his tensed limbs, and holds Douglas then, pressing tiny kisses into the other mans hairline until their breathing levels and synchs.

Blaine does not sleep - he thinks Douglas does but he cannot be certain, and he does not want to risk moving to find out.  Instead he ignores pins and needles in his trapped leg and arm, and passively processes the events of past weeks to the soundtrack of the party bubbling below.

Eventually the last set of clacking heels and whispering soles drift along the corridor beyond the door to the outside-world, and a horrifying silence lies heavily upon them.

He sees himself from across the room - two men of marble, intertwined in grief and exhaustion.  Perhaps he drifts off for an hour or so - he has no real way of telling, but eventually his bladder calls out for him to seek relief, forcing him to untangle and extract.

            ‘Can you not sleep either?  Douglas voice is rough - his breath a little stale against Blaines cheek.

            ‘No...  Guilt assuaged, Blaine gets up and takes the opportunity to relieve himself of dinner jacket and shoes.  Bladder temporarily forgotten he locates sleepwear for them both, then squints to read the face of the baroque timepiece on the mantle.

            ‘What time is it?  Douglas, following Blaines example, asks from his temporary seat on the edge of the bed - one shoe in hand, the other on foot.

            ‘Five.

            ‘Breakfast will be at seven fifteen.

Blaine knows better than to joke about precision and routine here, and instead passes Douglas pyjamas, before shuffling in the direction of the ensuite bathroom.  The tiles bite his bare feet, and Blaine finds himself longing for the heated floors of the penthouse before laughing at how soft he has become in so short a time.  He changes quickly, using his discarded dress shirt as a mat (not that it does much good), before relieving himself hurriedly.  Shedding his body-warm clothing may have made him a little more comfortable, but they, like the rooms, are cold.  He is beneath the thick feather quilt and pressed flush to the heat of Douglas as quickly as he can manage, but, instead of being pushed away with a complaint he is once again held within a warm cage of limbs.

            Which is why, when he awakes to find the bed and room cold and empty, in what feels like mere moments later, he is a little shocked.  His senses are dimmed from lack of quality (let alone quantity) of sleep, and he struggles to recall when he and Douglas replaced their covers with a goose-down duvet.  The previous events hit him with the shirt and pants Douglas aims at him when he emerges from the bathroom.  He blinks at the mantle clock.

            ‘Its only six-thirty.

            ‘And breakfast is at -

            ‘- Seven fifteen.

            ‘Precisely.  So we need to be up and ready.

Blaine groans but manages to fling the covers back rather than snuggle back into them.  He morns the escaping heat as he sits up and clambers from the bed.  He half considers slipping his dress shoes on in order to shield himself from the chill of the tile, but decides to brave it rather than try to find them again in the chaos of clothes Douglas is busying himself sorting.

It is only when he spots the small tube of concealer that has been left out for him - together with his usual toiletries - that he realises his error.  Suddenly the chill of the tile is his last concern: he had failed to get up before Douglas, and the other man must have seen the bruise on his neck.

-+-

            Douglas says nothing about the hickey, and Blaine finds that more painful a torture than a discussion about it.  He would take a shouting match and accusations over this chilling indifference any day.

The older man kisses him gently, before leading him down to breakfast - to which they arrive precisely on time.

            ‘Im not giving her one thing to hold against us or call us out on.  Douglas whispers determinedly to Blaine as they take their seats.

Blaine notices that neither Doug nor Rachel appear for breakfast, but that seems like a minor point considering everything else.  Every time someone approaches them Blaines heart stutters, but it is only ever family and friends congratulating them both on their engagement, on Douglas work in China, or on Blaines talent.  Douglas graciously makes small talk with each and all, whilst studiously avoiding talk of his parents, or his brother.  Blaine finds he has no appetite, and sticks instead to coffee - heedless of the fact that increasing his edginess would probably not be beneficial.

They remain until Douglas finally finishes with his own coffee - Blaine suspects that Douglas had been purposefully drawing it out - and then retire back to their room together.  Blaines feet drag across the threshold and the door closes like a gunshot.

            ‘Douglas, I -

            ‘You dont need to say anything, Blaine.  I know what clubs are like, and we both know you were not completely operating under your own faculties.  Theres nothing to forgive; Im just glad that youre alright so stop skittering about like a cat on coals and help me decide how best to torture mother - we could wear matching clothes?  Im sure that checked Brooks Brothers shirt you love would go with that bubble-gum pink vest you bought me.

Blaines brain and jaw seem disconnected, but he manages to follow Douglas words enough to nod dumbly.  Douglas eyes study him discerningly, but Blaine manages to maintain eye contact.  Douglas smiles, kisses him, and then turns to rifle through one of the massive armoires.

            ‘Perhaps with your grey wool trousers?  I packed that bowtie...The one with the lobsters or the one with the little Christmas trees?

Blaine blinks - completely floored by the direction Douglas has taken - but manages to respond with something that makes some sort of sense because Douglas tells him that he is an evil genius and grins at him.  The other mans energy is infectious, however, so Blaine finds himself easily lost in Douglas devious plans - but his guts keep squirming, and he cannot completely put it down to lack of food or sleep.

-+-

            Doug is sitting alone in the library when Blaine finds him.  He approaches a little cautiously for fear of a lurking Rachel, but when Doug spots him, smiles, and waves him over Blaines unease quietens a little.

            ‘Whered you go after the announcement last night?  I looked for you everywhere.  I cant believe youre going to be my uncle.  That is fucked up, Blaine.  But youre going to be family.  Real family.  Man, Im so happy for you.  Maybe Uncle Bill and dadll get back to talking to each other after this seeing as were all going to be family?

Dougs words bowl Blaine over with the force of a full-grown Burmese Mountain Dog to the chest.  The news that his father and Roger had fallen out reverberates through his chest like an ominous church bell.  He manages to remain standing, but is powerless to stop his friend from lifting him a good few inches from the floor with the enthusiasm of his hug.

            ‘Didnt see you at breakfast...or Rachel for that matter.

If Doug noticed the change of direction, he is gracious enough not to draw attention to it.  Instead he returns Blaine to the relative safety of the ground.

            ‘Nah, man.  She disappeared about the time you did - thought she was with you at first, but then I found her in the billiard room talking on the phone to someone.  I didnt listen in or anything but it sounded pretty intense and she was pretty upset afterwards.  She told me she was going to retire early - I asked her what the matter was, but she just said she was tired.  I checked on her this morning, but she said she felt sick and didnt fancy breakfast so I let her be.  I didnt really want any myself at that time in the morning - drank a bit too much champagne: the good stuff came out after the Big News - you missed it!     Hey, do you reckon it was something I did?  Man, I hope I didnt blow it with her.  Shes...shes literally the perfect woman, Blaine.

            ‘Im sure it was nothing you did.

            ‘Could you check on her and maybe subtly check for me?

Blaine manages to stifle a choked laugh at the thought in his relief that Doug remained seemingly oblivious to most of the drama.  Maybe that was why he found himself, minutes later, waiting outside the door to the Bamboo Room.

Rachels reception of him was the polar opposite to Dougs, and Blaine was instantly glad that he had insisted that Doug remain downstairs.

The Bamboo Room (which he managed to semi-force his way into when Rachel had answered the door - now was not the time for gentlemanly behaviour after all) lived up to its name - he is certain that it would have been the height of fashion in the 1940s, but in the cold light of December over 70 years later it simply looked as tired as he felt - though a lot more elegant even in its faded grandeur.  The room itself was tucked away in the far reaches of the house, and was likely seldom used - this fact Blaine was genuinely grateful of at that moment because it meant they were likely to be unseen and unheard.  He barely had time to take in the patterned wallpaper, or the bamboo suite with its limp lace, before Rachel was an inch from his face - her eyes red rimmed and furious.

            ‘How dare you.  It is more growl than speech, and for a moment Blaine considers suggesting she look after her voice better for Funny Girl.  Luckily (for him at least) his brain kicks in enough to suggest otherwise.

            ‘I...I beg your pardon?

            ‘How utterly dare you, Blaine Anderson.  How could you do that to Kurt?  I thought you were better than that.  When you cheated on him I was certain it was all a misunderstanding - but now I see the truth.  You are the worst kind of person.  Is this how little he means to you?  How could you treat him like this - after all hes been through.

Her last statement flips a switch somewhere within him and he goes from distraught and guilt-ridden to indignant in less time than he thought possible.

            ‘Stop it, Rachel.  You dont know anything.  He manages to keep his voice calm and level by some previously unknown feat of internal control - some part of him is hyper aware that he needs to handle this carefully and without drawing external attention, while the other, much larger part, fights instincts to slam doors and run away. 

            ‘I know that I only just managed to talk Kurt down from coming right over here last night.  I know that he deserves so much better than you.

            ‘You told Kurt.  It was a statement not a question.

            ‘You better believe I did, Mr.

            ‘I didnt want it to go like this, Rachel.  I never wanted to hurt him.

            ‘Kurt or Douglas?  Because the way I see it no one wins here - you mess everything you touch up.  I swear to you that if you even try to contact him again I will personally castrate you - and then Ill set Santana on whats left of you.

He has nothing to say to that and instead leans heavily against the wall of faux bamboo behind him and half expects the shoots to bend under his weight.  Rachel must take it for defeat for she lets out a huff of air and closes her eyes, before levelling them back at him again like crosshairs.

It is then that Blaine sees it - the way out of the argument and it is then that he realises just how despicable Charlies influence on him had been.

~Shes deflecting.  She sees your betrayal of Kurt with Douglas as a reflection upon her.  She sees herself betraying Finn because shes contemplating moving on with Doug...This is not really about you - this is about her.  Tell her.  Watch her crumble.~

He quashes the thought as quickly as it raises its serpentine head.  It is never that simple.  He is not that person.  He swallows down rising bile.

            ‘It was never meant to go like this, Rachel.

            ‘Tell me, Blaine.  How does it go?  She slides down onto the edge of the bed, and Blaine notices how tired she looks.  She could have told Doug - she could have told him everything...but she did not.  That has to mean something.

            ‘Kurt is the love of my life, Rachel.

            ‘Like Finn?

            ‘Like Finn.

            ‘How...how could you give up something like that willingly?

            ‘I...I dont know when it all became so messy...I...I thought he was done with me.  I honestly thought Kurt had moved on, and by the time I realised I was not handling it it was too late.

            ‘Its never too late, you know.  I dont know if I will ever find what I had with Finn again...but I realised something - I cannot sit around like a martyr holding his memory close to me at night forever.  He wouldnt have wanted that...

            ‘Doug really likes you, you know.

She smiles wryly and a little of the stiffness in her shoulders dissipates.

            ‘I know.  Who knows?  Maybe it will work?  Maybe it wont.  But I think Id like to find out.

Blaine forces his lips together into a tight smile, not trusting himself to speak.  His throat feels too tight, and his palms are sticky.  Subconsciously he rubs them against his pants leg.

            ‘Blaine?

Her voice is gentle and he glances back up to her from where his eyes had sunk to the light pink and green carpet at her bunny-slippered feet.

            ‘I dont know what to do, Rach.  This whole thing is a nightmare.  Theres no good, fair way out of this.  If I...If I left Douglas it would break him.  He has done so much for me...

            ‘But you love Kurt.

            ‘I love Douglas too.

            ‘Not like Kurt.  Never like Kurt, Blaine.

            ‘I know.

-+-

            Charlies mouth tastes sour, and theres something gluing his skin to his clothes in a couple of patches that may be dried liquor or something else... but he opens the door regardless - anyone important would know not to bother calling before three in the afternoon if they wanted Charlie in a presentable state.

He does not expect a fist to the face.