"Please stop."

"Blaine-"

"Please?"

"-This isn't something I can ignore."

"I'm not dying. It's not a big deal."

"Give me your hands, then."

"No."

"Well, must be a big deal then, mustn't it?"

"I don't need you to be smart with me."

"And I don't need my boyfriend cutting his wrists open."

Pause.

"Blaine, you told me you'd stopped."

"I did."

"When?"

"Ages ago. Months."

"Then why-?"

"Because I fucked up, okay, Kurt? I've- I've had a bad week."

"Show me."

"Kurt-"

"That wasn't a request. Show me your arms, now."

Pause.

Ruffling.

Pause.

"Blaine, you have to stop."

"I know."

"No, you don't. You could hurt yourself badly doing this."

"I know, Kurt. I had CBT a year ago."

"You should go back-"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"We're talking about this, Blaine! Do you see what you're doing to yourself?"

(Quiet.) "I don't care."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't care, Kurt! I don't care enough! I'm not worth the-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"-hassle of-"

"Blaine Devon Anderson."

Pause.

"I love you, Blaine. You're worth so much to me. Why can't you feel that?"

Pause.

"Am I doing something wrong? Am I not showing you enough?"

"Kurt, it's not about you."

"I didn't-"

"This isn't a movie, Kurt! What, do you expect to kiss my wrists and suddenly make five years worth of mental health issues disappear? This isn't about you."

Pause.

"You've done nothing wrong. I know you love me. I just..."

"You don't think you deserve it."

"I think you see someone I'm not."

"Blaine...I see you. All of you. All your curves and edges. It's okay to not be strong all the time."

"I'm sorry."

"Shush. None of that. Come here, B."