Sitting in the circle of New Directioners, Blaine felt strange. He smiled along with everyone else as they went one by one, sharing their goals for life in 10 years. It was supposed to be a hopeful, happy moment, but Blaine couldn’t feel happy. Not when Mr. Shue’s story made him think of something, of that time when he’d very nearly given up. His fingers subconsciously traced the faint scars on his wrist, a nervous habit he’d picked up somewhere between the counseling and transferring to Dalton.

Later that night in his dark room, he’d run his fingertips over the smooth, slightly raised flesh and he’d remember. He’d remember how close he came to losing it all.

Only Kurt and his family knew the story. They were the only people in his life that Blaine trusted completely and totally. Once in a while he’d catch Kurt giving him a look, as if he were the most fascinatingly beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And Blaine would blush and stare back, but he knew the real reason behind Kurt’s look. Kurt had explained it to him once.

“Blaine…” he had said, “You are so strong. I admire you so much for that.”

And Blaine had wanted to say ‘no, I’m not strong, I’m still so weak, Kurt, weaker than you might think. I’m a coward.’ But instead, he thanked Kurt with a tight smile and a returned compliment.

Because that’s who Blaine Anderson was, who he’d established himself as. Composed and proper, strong and unwavering.

And sometimes he was confused, and he would wonder how Kurt could love someone as broken as he was. He’d tried to put the pieces of himself back together after the day he broke, but it hadn’t worked, not really. Blaine liked to think of himself as a puzzle sometimes. One whose pieces had been put into a blender then shoved back together, frayed and greyed and broken. Close to perfect, but not quite.

And the flashbacks would return, and he’d wake up in a sweat from his bed and reach for the locket Kurt gave him one day. He’d hold it to his chest as he tried to regain his breath and remind himself that he had every reason to be here, to live, and that those bad times had gone. And that he loved, and was loved, and will love. And blue-green-grey eyes with a heart that held no boundaries, and curly black hair that slept on the floor next to him when he’d wake up with a nightmare as a child, and love. That’s what kept him going, in the end. That’s what gave Blaine a reason to live.

And sometimes Blaine relived the moments, to remind himself why he would never let himself drop that low ever again.

Mr. Shue’s speech and Dave’s attempt made him remember, and this time he didn’t try to stop it.

Blaine couldn’t remember exactly when he gave up on trying. But it was one day in middle school, when he was standing naked in front of his mirror running his fingers over the multiple bruises on his body, that he just decided it wasn’t worth it. He’d had enough. Life wasn’t worth living if this was the way people were going to treat him, if this was the way people saw him—as nothing more than a punching bag. They hated him, as if he’d personally offended every single bully by simply existing. They pushed him into lockers and beat him bruised and bloodied while screaming “fag” and “fucking homo”. And even now, Blaine could still hear their words echoing in his head like a bad song. Those memories will always be there, no matter how far Blaine pushed them back.

And Blaine just couldn’t do it anymore. It was too much, and he was becoming a burden on Cooper and his mom and his dad. His parents didn’t care—they never did, really—but he could tell Cooper was getting tired, too. He never stopped caring. That much was true. But he couldn’t be there all the time, and if his tired face was any indication, Blaine was negatively affecting Cooper as well. And the last thing Blaine wanted to do was bring someone down with him. So he decided that his family was better off without him. He felt like a mistake, worthless. And he hated it. He hated himself, and everything he was.

So one day, he grabbed a blade and a blindfold and made his way to the roof of his three story house. It was all a blur, really. There was crying and breathless sobbing, and a sense of finality. There was a cold edge at his wrist that brought everything a sharp sense and blood. Yes, there was blood. There was pain and dizziness and trembling fingers, and brisk wind in his face as he stood way high up off the ground, staring. Then there was a tied blindfold around his face, and everything was black as he walked to the edge and he could feel the height, he could feel that the end of everything was so close, and maybe they would let him rest in peace in heaven or where ever it was he went…

And he took another step forward.

Then something lurched him backwards.

Suddenly there was sobbing and a deep voice, and familiar arms and Cooper’s stinky cologne that Blaine told him to get rid of so many times but Cooper just wouldn’t listen. There was wind and darkness and he was being carried by safe arms down, down, down…

And he woke up in a bright room, the sterile lights way too bright and the needles in his arms creating a weird pressure in his veins. Cooper and his mom were there, looking small and helpless in the white room, looking at Blaine with pity and sorrow and “I should’ve done something, I should’ve seen this coming” on their lips. There was love and help, and an attempt at recovery that ultimately went well. Everything was a blur. The only reason he didn’t try again was because of his family. “It would be selfish”, he thought to himself.

Months passed and eventually he was integrated back into school. It was blue blazers and trim haircuts and perfect manners, and Blaine fit right in. He created himself around the image of being put-together. He made friends and joined a singing group. And he was content. Not happy, not yet.

Happiness was when he met those blue-green-gray eyes that showed him what love was.

And he began to learn to live again, in happiness. Everything seemed brighter when he was around Kurt, as if he’d been living in a world of greys before he’d met him.

And slowly but surely, Blaine became human once again. But he reminded himself all the time that humans were flawed. And flaws meant that there would be mistakes and hard times. But being human also meant love, and happiness, and life.

And Blaine didn’t want to come close to losing that ever again.