I do not own Glee. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Self-harm, depression, near death

Suddenly the rain bouncing off the patio railing turned hot. His face flushed, then he stopped feeling the rain altogether. All the sound of the restaurant was sucked from the dark street except the blood rushing in his ears and Kurt's voice reverberating against the table, against his chest. This couldn't be happening. The muscles in his body twitched with adrenaline with the need to scream and run and tear at Kurt's face with his hands to make him see that he was real that this was all real, all pain. He tried to breathe he tried not to fall apart but this was it. Kurt finally said what Blaine suspected for so long. Kurt was just staring back at him now, his jaw dropping as a look of realization inched across his face, that maybe he had gone too far, but he didn't take it back. Blaine waited a few more seconds that felt like an eternity, his heart beating against his ribs, waiting, pleading with his eyes for Kurt to say another word, that he was sorry that he didn't mean it. But Kurt was quiet, staring, and he wasn't going to back down. There was nowhere else to go. Blaine swallowed hard and glanced downward, steeling himself before flashing his eyes back up to meet the man he had poured every ounce of trust and love and wish into. Lost. Gone. For nothing.

"I'll never forgive you for this," he heard himself say. His body started moving without his brain, getting up from the table robotically as Kurt continued to stare open mouthed, making no gesture to keep him. Blaine felt his feet moving over ground and the scene blurred. He felt the space between him and Kurt stretching, breaking, dissolving in the rush as he moved quickly through the restaurant, passing the hostess stand and the other guests, bumping into a shoulder, until he was out in the rain again, alone, feeling nothing but cold air around him, with the warmth from only moments before now gone.

Before he could comprehend that he didn't know where to go, he was running, sloshing puddles in the dark ducking between hooded passersby and umbrellas, cars whooshing against the watery street. He slowed to take pause near the lights of a convenience store two blocks from the restaurant and looked back at the black awnings of the place his life shattered. Blaine's vision burned as he watched an umbrella open up and the white flash of Kurt's face turning slowly in the rain, his square shoulders getting smaller as he walked off in the opposite direction.

Blaine's chest heaved as he realized he needed to keep moving. Rushing to the curb, he hailed a cab and disappeared from that place, making a short stop at Sam and Mercedes' apartment to leave a note. In the car ride, he'd scrawled on the back of a receipt he'd been carrying from his favorite pastry shop. He shoved the note in the door jam, afraid that one of them might try to make him stay.

Sam-

It's over with Kurt.

I'm leaving.

Thank you

for everything.

- B

As he ran back down the stairs from Sam's apartment to his cab, he looked up to see his blonde, unsuspecting best friend approaching the window of his apartment, looking down to see who had rattled the door. Blaine paused and a pang of guilt twisted in his gut as he shut his eyes and slipped back into the cab. "La Guardia airport, please."

When he landed in LA, it was barely 5AM, and by the time his cab arrived at his brother's house in Santa Monica, the sky was just starting to fade from black to blue. He could just hear the sound of waves crashing on rocks as he approached the boxy, modern home on the ocean. He had no bags, and was still wearing the overcoat he'd been wearing at the restaurant when Kurt…

He had turned his phone off when Sam kept calling. When Sam kept calling and Kurt never called. He hadn't slept at all on the plane, and his body felt heavy as he glided toward the front door. Pulling out the key Cooper had given him on his last trip to New York, he remembered what he'd said to him as he left.

That night last year, Cooper and his girlfriend were visiting. As the night was winding down, Blaine had dropped his special cronut on the apartment floor by accident after he'd passed the others out to Cooper and his girlfriend. Kurt had made some comment about how Blaine didn't need another cronut anyway, "Especially around the middle," Kurt whispered to Cooper. He remembered the confused look on Cooper's face as he shook his head at Kurt's rudeness, and Blaine put his hand up as if to say to Cooper, It's not worth it. Cooper looked concerned. As he and his girlfriend were leaving, Coop had pulled Blaine into a hug and dropped the metal key into his pocket, whispering, "If you ever need an escape."

Now, as the cab pulled away and the sun just started to come up behind the house, he realized how detached he was from New York. From his life there. Like a string had been cut and now he was floating. He didn't even know if his brother was home. Blaine hadn't called. It wouldn't matter anyway. It would probably be better if he wasn't home. Not for this.

He took a breath as he stepped up to the front door and tried his key. Much to his relief, the door unlocked easily and he stepped over the threshold. The house was dark with morning. Everything was still and the air felt untouched. He walked through each room until he reached his brother's bedroom before he realized he was completely alone. His brother wasn't here. Probably staying at his girlfriend's house.

The quiet seeped into his bones and his coat weighed on him as he walked into the kitchen. State of the art everything. Cold stainless steel and tile. He ran his fingers across the smooth granite countertop across the front of the refrigerator, sliding over the faucet, touching the fabric of a soft kitchen towel, bumping into the wooden block that held the knives. His fingers ran over the smooth wooden handles and delicately pulled one of the smaller carving knives out. Carrying the knife lightly in his hand, he made his way over to the door of the back patio that was fenced in by smooth glass, overhanging the sand and looking out into the ocean. As he cracked the sliding glass door and walked through, the ocean air wrapped his face in cool salty mist.

The sun was just coming up and he could feel the warmth begin to slide across his face. He sat down in one of the low patio chairs to watch the waves come in. Blaine was calm, tired, and ready to let go. He unbuttoned the toggles on his overcoat and shaking it from his shoulders slowly, he folded it neatly on the empty chair beside him, letting the ocean air whip past his shirt. It felt good to be more bare. He pushed up the edge of one of his sleeves and leaned back. A shirt Kurt had bought for him a few years ago. One of his favorites.

He picked up the knife, unassuming, and studied it for a few moments as the early sun glinted off the blade. It was over. Really over. And now he would make it quick.

He made a fist and drew a vertical line down his forearm to his wrist, a little surprised at how red and watery the liquid was that spilled over. He let his arm hang over the edge of the chair as he squinted into the sun rising on the horizon. He started to feel light headed almost immediately, then cold. His heart felt funny, jumpy, almost like butterflies. Closing his eyes, calming himself, he whispered, "I'll always love you." Slowly, he let his chin rest on his chest. The sound of waves crashing got quieter, but he thought he heard someone stirring inside the house. Keys dropping into a ceramic bowl. Feet in the kitchen, walking out toward the patio. A seagull crying. Sirens.