Blaine was devastated. He thought he was going to be with Kurt forever. That thought made the pain even worse. He didn't think he could bear dealing with it nor did he ever think he would. No. Please, Kurt. Don't do this to me. Please…
"I think we should take a break, Blaine. Being so far apart, let's take this time to really explore who we are and then we'll see what next year has in store," Kurt said. He wished Kurt had never said that, because that was the last conversation they ever had which flowed as if they were together.
That winter was the coldest for Blaine. He chose not to see Kurt when he came back for break. Instead, he locked himself inside his large, empty house and opened bottle after bottle of his dad's whiskey. As the winter wore on, more of those bottles became empty. At least dad just ships bottles to the house to stock his bar. It gives me something to do since he's never home.
Even the occasional visit from Kurt didn't make things better. He knew exactly what happened; the Warbler's told him. Kurt and Sebastian began talking a few weeks after they broke up. Blaine knew it was over. Sebastian? I thought you hated him? Why is he all of a sudden more perfect for you than I am? What did I do, Kurt?
"Blaine?" Kurt yelled through the door he pounded on. "Blaine, I know you're in there. I see a light on in there."
He sat perfectly still. I'm not here. Stop acting like you care, Kurt.
"Please, Blaine. Just open up so we can explain everything to you." That voice belonged to Sebastian. If he wanted to talk to anyone less than Kurt, it was him. He sat there with his fourth, almost empty whiskey and waited to hear the car start and pull away.
He cried himself to sleep that Christmas night.
Glee was never the same. Everyone gave him these pitying looks; he didn't accept solos anymore. He just became a face in the background.
That's when he began to slash at his arms.
The razor never felt so cool. Cooler than he'd ever be. Cool enough to let the physical pain drown out the emotional pain. Soon he never wore short sleeves, even in the summer. He couldn't let people see what he was doing.
That summer he blocked Kurt and Sebastian on Skype and deleted them from both Facebook and his phone, never to add or speak to them again.
He moved away…far away from Ohio, far from New York. He found himself in Washington. He played some music, waited tables, and lived his own life. What he never did was date. He never felt safe enough to put himself out there like he did for Kurt. Kurt was the one. It's not worth trying again. No one will ever be like him.
He never stopped cutting.
He never stopped drinking.
6 years later he found an invitation in his mailbox: an invitation to a wedding. "Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe invite you…" he read as he regretfully bought his plane ticket to go. I can't believe I'm going to put myself through this. I should at least make a showing, even though we haven't talked in 6 years.
The ceremony was beautiful. The grooms looked beautiful, the gang was back together, and Blaine just sat at the bar. Kurt came over with Sebastian, but all he got was a hiccupped, "Congrats." When Kurt saw the wet spots forming on the bar, he knew to take Sebastian away from what was about to happen. That should have been me up there with him. That wasn't Sebastian's place. It was mine.
Blaine couldn't stop drinking.
Everything hurt too much to face sober. So he drank and drank and drank. And drank.
That Christmas he got a card.
"They adopted," he grumbled as he poured another drink. "We were always going to adopt." 3. 2 boys and a girl. Max, Lance, and Elizabeth.
He couldn't cope anymore.
The pain was too much. He couldn't stand living and had lost everything anyways. There was nothing left. It's over.
That's when he found his gun.
3 days later Kurt received an email.
"From what I was told, he was extremely drunk and shot himself point blank in the head. When the police got there, the only things in his hands were his gun and your Christmas card," Mike wrote. Kurt read the words with tears streaming down his face as Sebastian wrapped his arms around him from behind, knowing his husband was devastated at the loss of his first love. I killed myself, but 6 years ago I died of a broken heart. I never recovered.
As they lowered him into the ground, no one cared. No one was there. Not a soul grieved at his grave nor did anyone ever visit. They words on his tombstone, which were written in bold, black letters on the back of the card, said it all.
"Forever alone."
Blaine, I'm sorry.