It's late. He's not sure if Blaine's even home. It's been a while since he's stopped by and he hates to admit it but he hasn't wanted to. Blaine has been distant, standoffish, and secretive like he doesn't trust anyone or anything. Of course he's always been defensive, internalising everything ever since high school but never this reclusive. He had been wild, reckless and a danger to himself but now, Cooper knows nearly nothing about him.

Countless times Cooper has called to double check that Blaine can watch Arabella and countless times Blaine has let him down with excuse after excuse. He's ill, he has school work that's due soon, he has to pick up a shift at work. Most of the time Cooper knows it's not true, he knows Blaine hasn't handed in an assignment for over a fortnight now and he's been late to work so many times he's on his last warning before he's unemployed.

Cooper doesn't want to have to ask him, Arabella isn't his responsibility; she's his, but solely his now. Lucy is gone, left a note that simply read I can't do this anymore, I love you but please don't try to find me. He's going to find her she can't just leave. I love you it said but she doesn't, she doesn't love him, maybe she did once but not anymore. Arabella doesn't know yet, he can't bring himself to tell her that her mother's left them and that she might not ever come back.

Bella is with a neighbour while Cooper goes to visit Blaine, because even though they've been distant they're still brothers and Coop needs his little brother. The boy he used to sit with on rainy days, pouring through his comic books snuggled up in Blaine's Transformers sheets with Flash twitching in his sleep by their side. He's hoping that Blaine will be there for him today, and it's silly because they shouldn't have to hope, shouldn't have to wish for the comfort a good sibling would willingly give.

Cooper steps up to Blaine's door anxiously, his eyes stinging with tears he hasn't let fall yet. He's hoping Blaine will give him time, tonight so he can feel, can let himself cry and cling like a man with a broken heart instead of being strong in order to be a dad for his little girl. He's asking Blaine for a few days, so he can find Lucy and make sure, get his answers and get confirmation that it's really over.

He's about to knock on the door when he hears it. It's a male voice and definitely not Blaine's; it's reedy, scratchy and nasal. Cooper panics briefly, thinking Blaine must have company but despite how really unpleasant it could be to find out your little brother is in fact getting it on with some guy in the living room of his apartment Cooper really needs to be sure that this was something he could comfortably interrupt.

He presses an ear to the door when he hears the voice again this time accompanied by a strained whimper. That's suggestive to say the least but he listens again, just to make sure and the voice sounds again clearer this time. "Come on pretty boy you know you want it." And woah that is something Cooper does not want to hear, he goes to step away, come back a bit later at least but he's frozen to the spot.

There's a sharp, twisted whine and a loud thump and the voice speaks again, rougher and quieter, it's smug and oozing with something that makes Cooper's skin crawl. "That's it Blaine, it'll make it all go away, just what you paid for." Cooper's heart lurches to the back of his throat and he's hovering, panicking on other side of Blaine's front door. He can't bring himself to barge in, to break up whatever Blaine's grizzly ‘friend' is encouraging him to do.

He waits, but it kills him. If he waits too long it could be too late and god knows with Blaine there isn't time to waste. His mind whirs as the sounds beyond the door are abruptly silenced. His mind is made up however when he hears Blaine say one word, slurred and rough and desperate.

No.

The door is locked. It's never locked. Cooper pounds on the door, shouts and screams into the empty hallway but nothing moves. The door doesn't budge, no other residents rush to his aid or even peak around their doors to see what all the commotion's about. He throws himself against the word, feeling splinters rip at his clothes and he doesn't even know what he's yelling anymore, his lungs burning with words he can't even comprehend over through his panic.

He hears the door jamb begin to crack, the hinges screech in protest and the door handle is hanging off but he's still not through. There's pain shooting through his right shoulder and side but he barely feels it just keeps crashing into the wood and god it should have collapsed by now nothing in the apartment works properly, it's falling apart but the door the fucking door.

Suddenly there's a deafening crack and the door jolts open, bouncing off its own hinges and crashing into the wall. Cooper grips the door frame with white knuckles, wild sea grey eyes surveying the room quickly before they land on Blaine.

He's sprawled out on the floor head turned towards the door and arms outstretched. His mouth opens and closes like he's desperately trying to speak, to scream or anything but there's no sound. His arms twitch like he's trying to move or fight back but they barely shift an inch from the ground. His eyes have Cooper's heart breaking, glassy and so terrified, his face twisted in pain and desperation.

An instant finds Cooper running across the apartment and hauling the other man off him. He slams the man into the wall and pulls back his fist until he hears a garbled choking noise and turns to look down at Blaine.

He immediately let's go and the man runs, escapes back onto the streets where he can coax and manipulate countless others. But that isn't Cooper's concern right now. Blaine is convulsing on the floor, eyes rolling back into his skull as he seizures, dull thuds crackling through the apartment as his body thrashes against the hardwood floor. Cooper is by his side in seconds, hands hovering over his form because he doesn't want to hurt him; he doesn't know what to do.

He fumbles for his phone dials for an ambulance and waits. He can't restrain him and he's too afraid to even gather him in his arms and try and soothe him so he kneels by his side. Blaine splutters and his mouth starts to foam slightly. Cooper wants to scream and cry and curse until his voice is gone and he's exhausted but he doesn't. He sits and whispers that he's sorry, he's sorry he wasn't there, that he didn't know, that he assumed that Blaine was just shirking his responsibility.

He's angry with himself and at Blaine. Fuming that Blaine couldn't ask him for help, they aren't the same boys they were when they lived in Ohio they looked after each other now, they were how brothers were suppose to be. Cooper just feels like he's failed him again.

But what if Cooper had not thought to check on Blaine first? What if he had just brought Arabella with him? The thought of having her exposed to something like this was incomprehensible. But all that mattered was that hurt tends to make Blaine reckless and Cooper could hate Blaine for doing this to himself.

He hears the sirens but can't move. He watches in slow motion as paramedics file in, they asks questions and Cooper answers as best he can, voice toneless and completely void of emotion. He notices one of the paramedics share a glance with a colleague and then look to the right. Cooper follows his gaze and everything crashes down.

A needle. Cooper's heart doesn't just break, it shatters.