Do you ever feel like everything, most of all yourself, is so completely and utterly meaningless? Like nothing makes sense anymore...like nothing even matters anymore? Like it would be just as well to just end everything because it wouldn't make a difference? Like there is not place where you'll ever belong unless you carve one for yourself, but at the same time you're so tired of always being the one who has to be strong? The one who tries so hard, to be strong for others when with every moment passing another piece of you dies? Like it will never get better, because how could it? Nothing will ever change...and no one will ever care enough to look past the facade and see how much you're really hurting inside?

Blaine Anderson had gotten used to feeling that way a long, long time ago. He had gotten used to it being his constant companion, sometimes a blazing fire, threatening to burn him and destroy every little bit of goodness left in his world, at other times a dull ache, like a festering disease deep within him, eating him up from the inside where no one could see it, or do something about it.

Nothing could save him.

And after a lot of disappointments, he had to realize, that no one even cared to.

When he talked to his teachers about the bullying and the damage inside him, they shrugged it off, telling him to take this to his parents.

When he told his parents about it his father would get this look on his face, like he was smelling something particularly disgusting and his mother, with a quick look at her husband, would put on a fake smile and suggest that he take it up with his brother, Cooper.

When he told Cooper, his brother would listen for a while, before his facebook would chirp or a girlfriend would call and he would wave Blaine off, telling him to go talk to his friends.

His friends.

Blaine had used to be quite popular, have a lot of friends who supposedly would go through thick and thin with him. As soon as his sexuality had been revealed, that had changed drastically. They had stopped returning his calls, or answering his messages. They hardly even acknowledged him in class or the hallways.

Those of them who weren’t disgusted by *the fag* were too scared of those who were to do anything. They didn’t care enough about Blaine to stand up to anyone for him, to endanger themselves. Nothing they had had seemed to matter to them anymore. And Blaine was alone.

So he started to learn to live with a smile on his face, laughing at the challenges life threw at him, always a friendly smile and a good advice, maybe even a helping hand at the ready whenever someone was in need of it, no matter who it was.

He was good. He was so good at this, a much better actor than his brother even. He was so good in fact he convinced everyone. Not once did he allow his mask to crack, his pain to show, his weakness to shine through. No one would care anyways.

On some days, he was so good, he almost convinced himself, but only almost. There was no way really, of ever fooling yourself into believing that you’re ok, that everything was ok when in reality something inside you died a little more each day, the pieces of your strength crumbling behind your happy, perfect façade.

He had needed an outlet and since he had lost everything else he turned to the soothing, familiar pain, the cold sting of the blade cutting your skin. He knew it was wrong, he knew it wouldn’t make anything go away, but it gave him a sense of control and allowed him to forget everything else, even if it was just for the short moments that he could concentrate on the pain he was master of himself.

There were times when things seemed to finally start getting better, like when he met Josh, and the boy agreed to go to the Sadie Hawkins dance with him.

But things never really got better. It had been his best night in several years and ended with him in a coma for several months, setting him back in school one whole year. He didn’t think he could survive staying in High School that much longer. Not with things as they were now.

Luckily for him, or at least so he assumed, he became too much for his parents, now with Cooper gone and they decided to send him to Dalton Academy, “A fresh start” as his father has proposed hopefully.

And really everything seemed to get better in Dalton, he was popular again, made friends, was accepted for his sexuality, and loved and respected for his talent. Singing became his outlet and the blade stayed in his drawer, buried deep in the back of his memory, never forgotten, but no longer dictating his life.

But he couldn’t bring himself to let his mask fall, show his new friends all the wounds and scars, all the pain he had been hiding for far too long. And although everything was better at Dalton, still no one cared to look behind the dapper, secure façade, and Blaine closed himself off further.

When he first met Kurt he was immediately struck by the beauty of the other boy, struck by how pure and innocent he seemed. But when he looked into the other boy’s otherworldly eyes for the first time he could find the same pain he had been fighting with for so long.

It was then that Blaine decided that he wouldn’t let happen to Kurt what had happened to him. It might be too late for him to be saved but he would fight with his everything to keep the other boys safe.

He was all the more surprised when he realized Kurt was a lot more different from him than he had initially thought. He wore a mask too, and he wore it well, but he wore it to protect those around him, not himself.

Kurt was so much stronger than Blaine could have ever imagined being, was less afraid of showing his emotions, but also far quicker at dealing with them and getting himself back on track again. Blaine couldn’t help it he was mesmerized by the pale countertenor.

They stood up to Kurt’s bully together, but instead of just letting Blaine handle everything, Kurt stood up for himself AND Blaine when the jock became vicious. Blaine was shocked, never had anyone done this for him, but upon seeing Kurt upset his mask snapped back into place and he pushed himself back in his mind, taking care of Kurt first.

This became a pattern for them until the night after Blaine had gotten over his brief sexuality crisis with Rachel Berry. He realized how wrong he had been, how pathetic and most of all how much he had wronged Kurt, his best friend, and the person he cared more about than he could even admit to himself by then.

He felt worthless and horrible and for once he knew that singing could not help him ease the pain. He was afraid that he had messed up things with Kurt once and for all, that he had lost the only person he had even remotely allowed himself to open up to, who had allowed him to let himself fall and always caught him.

He turned to the only solution he knew and dug out the knife out of his drawer.

The first few cuts were harsh, fast and messy, not controlled and soothing as usual. He was filled with hatred of himself and his weakness, the fact that he was cutting again only filling him with more disgust of how fucking weak he was.

He was broken out of his haze by something shattering on the bathroom floor behind him.

He whipped around, dropping the blade in the process. His eyes found a shattered mug of what he guessed to have been warm milk, before it drifted up to Kurt’s face. The younger boy was standing in the door, and Blaine knew that Kurt had come to make up, to make everything better, to do what Blaine hadn’t had the courage to do.

He could see the tears forming in those glasz eyes he loved so much, could see Kurt starting to shake and he knew that Kurt was only moments away from screaming or running away in disgust, to never speak to him again, and the pain in his chest exploded until he couldn’t breathe anymore at the thought of losing the other boy.

He dropped his gaze to the floor.

But once more, Kurt didn’t do what Blaine expected him to. Instead the other boy carefully came to kneel down next to Blaine, bringing his arms up around him and holding him against his chest tightly.

And finally, for the first time in a long time, Blaine just allowed himself to let it all out. He cried and screamed and he told Kurt about his feelings, and Kurt never let go of him.

He helped him to take care of the cuts and hide the evidence, never taking his eyes of Blaine, always touching him, even if it was just a hand on the wrist, his thumb gently caressing the bandaged cuts.

Blaine felt like he was bleeding it all out, all the pain, the festering feeling of self loathing, of worthlessness, he was bleeding it all out as he cried in Kurt’s arms until he was too exhausted to speak or cry or even move.

And Kurt just brought him to his bed, made them comfortable under his covers and held him tightly even as Blaine couldn’t speak, not caring that Blaine couldn’t even thank him, not judging him or scolding him.

Kurt was just there holding him, letting all the evil that had been hurting him from the inside for far too long come out and fall away, his hands running over Blaine’s body, whatever he could reach in soothing motions.

Later when Blaine was finished then, Kurt just lay with him quietly, and the last thing Blaine remembered before he fell asleep was Kurt’s arms wrapped securely around him, his breathe ghosting over Blaine’s neck, and he briefly remembered thinking that this might very well be the beginning of the rest of his life.

Because, even though he hadn’t noticed it at first, in the process of helping Kurt stand overcome his demons, he had started to face his own, and instead of just becoming a rock for Kurt, Kurt had returned the favor and helped Blaine to stay afloat no matter what.

After years of wishing and hoping and after almost giving up on everything, he had finally been saved.