Blaine slammed his apartment door behind him and dumped his bag on the floor. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand as he ran to the bathroom. He locked the door, not wanting to be interrupted by his roommate. He looked around him, the clean and neat white bathroom. His safe room. The room where he could hide. The room where he could cry and not be judged. The room where he could use his body as a canvas and a razor as a paintbrush.

Digging in the medicine cabinet, he found his emergency razor hidden behind half-used hair gel jars. He held it in his palm, staring down at the blade as he took in what he was doing. He sat on the edge of the bathtub, beginning to twiddle the blade with his fingers.

Two months he had been clean and here he was, ready to bleed it away. Moving to New York, going to NYADA was supposed to help him. And it did, for a while. But everything was just becoming too much. 

He fell during Cassandra's class and was kicked out. He screwed up his first audition for an off-broadway play. He had to work extra shifts and get odd jobs to pay for his rent. Then he received a call that morning from Cooper saying he couldn't come out to New York that weekend because he was in the hospital after a car accident.

Nothing major, Cooper had to keep reminding his panicking little brother. Blaine insisted he visit but the phone was snatched away from Cooper.

"Don't you dare come back here, you little faggot! I do not want to see you anywhere near here or I swear you will be admitted here as well." His father had shouted into the phone before hanging up.

Faggot. A single word that broke the wall between him and everything that stopped him from recovery. The bullying, the abandonment, the self-hate. Everything. The feeling of worthlessness was seeping back in. Slowly but surely. 

I wish I was dead.

Blaine heaved a heavy sigh as he held the blade up eye-level, his vision blurred from the tears streaming down his face. Hello old friend. My little piece of solace.

Blaine pressed the blade on his forearm just as there was a loud knock on the door. His body jerked and the blade flew out of his hand and onto the floor. He stood up, swearing loudly as he heard the clattering of the blade being kicked under the bathtub.

"Hey Blaine, you alright?" His roommate, Brendan, shouted.

"Yeah, I just-I dropped my hair gel," Blaine called back.

"Look, I'm going on a date so you'll have to order something just for yourself tonight," Brendan said, not waiting for Blaine to reply before saying his goodbyes.

Blaine got on his knees and began to search beneath the bathtub, feeling around for the blade. His fingers brushed over something hard and he pulled it out, only to see a small, pink paper crane.