So, I know it's short, but I haven't posted anything in a while, so.. Here it is. It's from my tumblr, same name as my account, so if you want quicker updates/new stories, follow me on there?
Reviews are very much appreciated.
Blaine missed Kurt. A lot. He had been spending the last few days in his room non-stop and now his parents were out to some stupid opera again, he had the house to himself. Thank god Cooper didn't live there anymore, he thought as he headed downstairs in his grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. Kurt was still in New York and he hadn't heard from him in days. It hurt him more than he wanted to let himself know, so he just kept telling himself that Kurt was busy with his work at , and that was the only single reason that he didn't call. That once Kurt came back from work, he ate, practiced his song for his new audition at NYADA and went straight to bed. Yes. That was what happened. It had to.
Ever since Blaine had become class president, he hadn't done anything. Not because he didn't want to, but because Sam did almost anything and the only thing he needed to do was check it for spelling checks – and with English as his favorite and best subject, that only took him a few minutes. He spent his time with all the clubs but they were all getting so boring after you'd joined them for a while. Of course it had been fun in the beginning, but then he had been there for a few weeks and everything just was the same and the same all over and over again. Summary: It was boring. Blaine slumped down the stairs and glanced over at his father's drank cabinet. He shouldn't do it, he knew he shouldn't, but.. what else was there to do? He could at least forget about his troubles a bit and he would just be able to relax and.. watch porn or something? He didn't know what he'd do yet, but he didn't care. He got out one of the glasses and poured himself a small glass of whiskey. He knew how much he could handle, and he knew he'd probably be drunk already before this glass was empty.
He was right. There was still a small bottom in the glass when he already lay on the couch, laughing and giggling about, well nothing. He held a pillow close and kissed, and licked over it until he had so much stuff on his tongue that he had to stop. "You're not Kurt!" he groaned in a slur as he threw the pillow across the room, hitting one of his mom's vase's which broke to pieces. He groaned again and got off of the sofa, standing up and slumping to the front door, walking out and having a small sober moment and remembering to take his key. He didn't want to be locked out. His grin widened as he walked towards the Hummel's house. He was 200% convinced that Kurt would be there, even though he had been in New York for the past few months and he very much still was. He wasn't going to come back soon either, because he was having way too much fun there on his own with Rachel. How he financed it? Blaine didn't know, especially not in this mood when he totally forgot about Kurt's leaving to New York and that he didn't live in Lima anymore. Once he – after about a thirty minute walk – reached the Hummel house, he ran – or more like stumbled – up to the door and knocked enthusiastically. There was a shuffle in the living room and Burt came to open the door.
"Blaine? What the hell are you- Are you drunk?" Burt asked with a frown on his oh-so bald head. Blaine smiled, rubbed Burt's bald head and walked in.
"Hmm.. Im'ere to see Kurty.." Blaine slurred as he walked up the stairs, Burt immediately following after him, since he didn't want to have a drunk Anderson who had fallen off of the stairs to take to the hospital in the middle of the night. It was 1:34am and Burt had fallen asleep on the couch, but woken up when he heard Blaine's knock.
"Kurt isn't here, Blaine, he's in New York," Burt said rapidly.
"Youso funny.." Blaine started, laughing. "He's here.. He told meself.." he slurred once again as he ran into Kurt's room. It was almost empty, most stuff from the shelves on the walls, no pictures, no books.. Everything was gone. Kurt was gone.
Blaine's lower lip started trembling a bit as he realized that he wasn't there. He let himself fall back on Kurt's bed on which they had spent so many nights. Just talking, or making out.. They never even had sex on this bed, but it still was weird to lay on it without his boyfriend. Burt watched for a few minutes before leaving and deciding to leave the boy alone for a moment.
As soon as he left, the tears started streaming down his face and he grabbed his phone, and dialed Kurt's number. But of course, voicemail.
"Please come home, Kurty.. I missya.. I am so alone here.. Yourema world, Kurt.. That rhymed.." he said, giggling softly. "Please come home.."