Disclaimer: (this is the only one you're getting) It's FANfiction. I am a FAN. If I owned glee, this would be happening on the show and not on this site. Thank you. :P
WARNING: This story contains triggers for Eating Disorders. Also, mild tip-sharing in this chapter.
That was the last time he would say that to anyone. Yes, he had been asked, but honestly what kind of person knows an almost fail-safe way to induce vomiting? It had been too close. If he were ever asked again, he'd say ipecac. That's what everyone said. That or shove a finger down your throat.
Everyone knows those methods, after all.
How many people know to drink warm salt water?
….. Not many.
After getting many worried glances from a few fellow Warblers, Blaine felt his heart rate skyrocket. Outwardly, he remained perfectly calm, even managing a small, sardonic smile. "My sister happens to be premed and decided to research alternatives for ipecac," he informed them.
Blaine noticed Wes's eyebrows draw together just slightly before he nodded and passed the information on to his girlfriend, who evidently had just found out the child she was baby sitting had swallowed a handful of pills thinking they were candy. Over the small speaker, Blaine could hear Jessica practically shrieking her thanks.
Several of the Warblers congratulated Blaine on having saved the day, yet again. Kurt even gave him his signature half smile. "You're just everyone's hero aren't you, Blaine?"
He couldn't help one corner of his mouth twitching at the comment. "Everyone's a hero in their own right," he replied smoothly before gesturing toward the door with his thumb. "Wanna grab dinner before cramming for that chem test?"
The smile that lighted on Kurt's face could power all of Ohio. "Sure!" he nearly squeaked out. Blushing, he cleared his throat and ducked his head. "Sounds good."
The pair made their way to the cafeteria, chatting amiably about Warblers and the classes they'd had that day. Blaine glanced through the choices once they'd reached the food line. Pasta and rice seemed to be the favorite ingredients for tonight, much to the lead singer's dismay. They both felt so weird coming back up, no matter how lubricated. He finally settled on spaghetti with marinara sauce and meatballs. He could practically smell the fat molecules from the ground beef.
After grabbing a diet coke and filling a rather large glass with water, Blaine paid for his food and let his eyes roam Kurt's plate. A salad with Italian dressing in a cup on the side and a bottled water. "You have absolutely no protein on your plate, Hummel," Blaine chastised as they settled at a small table toward the back corner of the eatery.
The countertenor quirked an eyebrow. "The only meat up there was those meatballs. You may be fine with ingesting ground muscle from an overfed cow, but I'll stick to greens."
Blaine leaned onto his elbows, chuckling. "Come on. If you don't have any protein, you're just going to be hungry in a few hours." He prodded one of the meatballs to the edge of his plate. "Eat it." Though technically a command, it came out more as a suggestion.
Kurt pointedly stabbed a piece of lettuce onto the end of his fork, glasz eyes never leaving Blaine's face. He'd adopted what Blaine had dubbed the "bitch please" face. Blaine chuckled and pierced a meatball before raising his fork to Kurt's mouth. "I am not going to eat that cow sphere," he deadpanned.
"Why not?"
"Because it's disgusting."
"You need protein."
"I'll get a turkey sandwich or something."
"You know you've totally ruined my Lady and the Tramp moment."
Kurt opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out as realization seemed to dawn on him. "…..Wh-what?"
A triumphant smirk tugged at the older boy's lips. "I have rendered the great Kurt Hummel speechless," Blaine said. "Mark this day in history."
A stream of sputtering half-words came out of Kurt's mouth before the pale boy's face set into an incredulous gape. "Did you seriously buy spaghetti to try to feed me a meatball like in Lady and the Tramp?" A warm pink spread over the porcelain boy's face as he asked.
Blaine glanced down at his food, chuckling. "Well that's not why I bought it, but it was a deciding factor," he responded. "Now are you going to eat it or not?" His hazel eyes flashed sweetly. "I didn't roll it with my nose, so it's perfectly sanitary."
For lack of anything else to do, Kurt leaned forward, mouth opening a bit. Blaine grinned and brought the meat slowly to the other boy's mouth, watching as it pressed against his soft lips. The countertenor's tongue darted out, tasting the marina sauce, before his lips wrapped around it. Blaine bit his lip in order to keep from moaning as he thought of those lips being put to better use.
There was an electric silence as Kurt chewed and swallowed. Both boys looked into the other's face, feeling the tension building. "Do you enjoy making people swoon?" Kurt whispered breathlessly. At this, Blaine drew his eyebrows together. He hadn't meant to make Kurt uncomfortable or make him swoon. In fact, he hadn't noticed: he'd been too bust trying not to jump the poor boy. "I mean – I can only imagine that since you do this with your friends that your boyfriend must spend have his time swooning." Kurt's ears flushed as he rambled.
Blaine laughed. "I'd be honoured if he did." His eyes fell back to his untouched pasta. "But seeing as he doesn't exist, I'm fairly sure he doesn't."
"Oh. I'm… so sorry. I just assumed that you'd have a boyfriend."
The soloist felt his stomach clench and the air dissolve in his lungs. He wished he had a boyfriend, as pathetic as that sounded. Blaine couldn't shake the thought as he and Kurt finished eating and returned to their respective dorms.
He'd had a few boyfriends in the past, but they hadn't really meant anything. At least not to them. Each time, he'd been absolutely sure that he was in love. And each time, he'd had his heart broken to realize that the boy didn't love him back.
Hazel eyes strayed to the dresser where he'd hidden a container of salt
This had all started during his first relationship, in eighth grade. Clarissa was stressing about the MCAT, and his entire family was focused on helping her as much as possible. Andrew was still in the closet and wouldn't let Blaine hold his hand or even hug him in public.
And he'd come out.
His parents were less than pleased, but tolerated it. They did not, however, do anything to prevent the bullying. "Suck it up, Blaine." "You brought this on yourself." "What else are they going to do?" Now that he was out and not just effeminate, the bullying got so much worse. It got to the point where he felt he had no control over any aspect of his life.
Just like now. He still didn't have control. Not really. He'd thrown himself into his studies the moment he'd come to Dalton. And when he joined the Warblers, he did the same with the music. There were set rules that had to be followed, and he'd been given the playbook. He could sing and he could ace his classes. The rules and structure bound and stabilized him. But this boy that had come dancing into his life had broken his restraints. He'd lost his careful control.
Blaine's fingers danced frantically over his desk, staccato beats echoing through the silence of the room. His heart raced as his right hand went to cradle his stomach. He could feel the noodles from dinner sitting there. Quickly, he down the diet coke he hadn't drunk earlier, then grabbed a glass and the salt container and headed into his bathroom.
A/N: www . recoveryourlife . com
Yes, this is going to be an angst-fest for a bit. My apologies. But what seems well is not always so. I'd like to think that's true with Blaine. I want there to be a deeper story to him.