Never Drinking Again
"So raise your (oh, fuck)
So raise your glass if you are wrong
In all the right ways, all my underdogs
We will never be, never be anything but loud
And nitty gritty, dirty little freaks" -P!ink
Blaine awoke to the birds chirping and a pounding head. What had happened last night? He found himself curled into an odd position, a cocoon of blankets encasing his body, his head completely covered by the sheet. Uncovering his face, he found that the room was ridiculously bright. Kurt sat beside him, his feet hanging off the bed, swinging while he marked up sheet music. Upon seeing his friend surface, he put the pencil and paper on the night stand.
"Twice in a month, Blaine? You've really got to quit drinking. My dad is going to start to think something is happening if you spend every night here."
The dark haired boy simply groaned in response. "I feel like I've been run over by a truck," he croaked, sitting up and throwing the covers off with difficulty. He found himself fully clothed under the blankets, dressed in the undershirt from the previous night and a pair of unfamiliar sweats.
"Did you change me?" he asked, bewildered.
Kurt shook his head. "No, you did that on your own. You didn't want to go to bed in your clothes, so rather than you waking up naked, like you wanted, I found some of Finn's sweatpants for you."
Finn? Oh, right, Kurt's stepbrother. They'd met briefly at Rachel's party a couple of months ago, but all Blaine remembered about him was that he was really, really tall. He wondered if the other boy had seen him stumbling in last night, unable to drive back to Dalton.
A cell phone rang, blaring a garbled rendition of a P!nk song that hurt Blaine's pounding head. Kurt picked it up and tossed it at the boy.
"That's yours," he stated, landing the black phone in Blaine's lap. Blaine looked at the phone blearily. He didn't recognize the number, but considering how much his head hurt, that meant little.
"Hello?" he answered, putting the phone to his ear.
"Blaine? Is this Blaine Anderson?" a shrill voice asked.
The boy nodded. The question was asked again, the voice unsure if he'd hung up. "Oh. Yeah. This is Blaine," he said, backtracking. A sigh of relief was heard from the other side of the line.
"Hi Blaine, this is Rachel Berry. From New Directions," she said, as if he didn't remember her.
The boy shot a look at Kurt, who had returned to his sheet music. He sighed.
"Hey Rachel. What's up?
"Blaine-" she started. Why did she keep saying his name? That had to be the fifth time she's called it within the last minute.
"Sorry, could you say all of that again?" He asked. "I'm a little zoned out."
"Blaine, could we meet somewhere? Maybe at Breadstix in a little while? I've gotta talk to you."
There was his name again. She said it like she couldn't quite wrap her head around it. She knew his name. So why did she keep saying it so damn much?
"Sure, I guess," he replied confusedly. "What time?"
"In about an hour?" Rachel stated, as if afraid he would refuse.
"That's fine, I'll see you then."
"Ok. Bye, Blaine."
Rachel hung up abruptly, startling the dark-haired boy. He looked at the phone, hoping it would talk to him. he put a hand to his forehead. "Well that was weird. I guess I have a lunch date." he said to no one in particular. The word "date" caused Kurt to look up.
"You have a date? With who?"
"Not an actual date, Kurt," he replied, a smile on his face. It was cute that the other boy was jealous. "A lunch thing, with Rachel. Maybe she's trying to turn me straight again," he teased.
"Oh," the taller boy replied. Ever since Rachel's party, the two boys had been distant. Though Blaine said he now was nearly sure he was gay, Kurt just didn't know what went through his head.
"Hey, can I borrow your shower?" Blaine asked, snapping the boy out of his reverie.
"Sure," he said slowly. "Down the hall on the left."
Blaine smiled warmly. A nod of thanks and he was gone to wash off the stench of alcohol.
So, this came out of nowhere. I don't know. My new college roommate is obsessed with Glee, so by default I am as well. Yay, I guess? There's more to this that I've already written, but I don't really know where its going. Whatever. Cliches ahead!