Drowning

Disclaimer: I'm not RIB, so I don't own Glee or any of the characters. If I did, I'd be rich and probably not writing fanfiction! This fic is an MPREG fic, so I'll be using my go-to MPREG explanation like I did in When We're Older aka the Reddin gene. The gene is based on the Reddin character from the 1994 movie Junior. You should really watch it if you like mpreg. It's a good movie, I promise (I also don't have any rights to it either!) I also don't really own anything mentioned in this except for the crazy storyline so... I OWN NOTHING.

Warning: This is NOT a happy drabble. Not. At. All. It's sad and depressing and you'll probably be upset about it. Anyway, there are SEASON SIX SPOILERS in this! TW: abortion! You have been warned.

"Sweetheart, do you need anything from the store?"

His mother's words barely make him stir from his position on the couch. He's bundled up in a thick blanket, ignoring the fact that it's slightly warm in the house and he feels sweaty and gross. His body is aching, spasms of pain shiver down his spine as he stares straight ahead at the blank screen of the television. It's been off for hours, but that doesn't stop him from staring. He's not even focused on it, eyes glazed over with unshed tears as he remains floating somewhere between the depths of consciousness and something he just can't explain.

It hurts. Every part of him hurts, but nothing more so than the cramping pain in his abdomen.

But he caused that. It's his fault and he deserves the pain. All of it. Forever.

"Blaine? Honey, did you hear me? I'm going to the grocery store. Do you want me to pick up anything specific for you while I'm out?" Pam, his mom, peers into the living room and frowns, her heart breaking a bit at the sight of her youngest so distraught and shattered before her. He's been home for weeks, having shown up on the doorstep with his bags and tears in his eyes. She hardly had the chance to ask him what happened before he collapsed in her arms and that's when she knew: Blaine's engagement was over. After that, her son became a shell. Gone was the bouncy, smiling boy she'd raised. This person who laid around all day and barely functioned was nothing like her son.

But there was nothing she could do. She tried to get him out of the house. She offered to take him on vacation with a chunk of the earnings she made selling Mary Kay. However, her baby boy wouldn't budge. He just laid there, sometimes on the sofa, but mostly in his bed. He didn't eat, he slept too much, and she was sure he was going to shrivel up from dehydration from all the crying he'd done - not too mention that his emotional outbursts sometimes left him sick enough to spend hours in the bathroom throwing up. Those days were the worst.

Of course, every day since he moved back home wasn't a ball of sunshine either. God, sometimes she imagined flying to New York and throttling Kurt's neck for hurting her son... but she wouldn't do that either. Cooper was a testament to that, having been the product of a failed first marriage. Sometimes you just fall out of love with a person. It's not their fault (most of the time), but it happens. She's sure that's what occurred between Kurt and her son, though she'd never say anything.

Taking another look at her boy, she still feels like taking that NYC trip. "Blaine-" Before she can say another word, her son pulls the comforter over his head, effectively (and childishly) ending the conversation. She sighs and shakes her head, grabbing her keys from her purse before she walks out of the house and into the warm summer air. As she makes her way to the car, she wonders if perhaps she should've pushed a little harder to get Blaine up and out of the house. It's not doing him any good to stay all cooped up in bed, but what else can she do? He's a grown man, nineteen, so she can't force him. But, god, does she want to.

She thinks about it all the way to the grocery store.

Meanwhile, Blaine thinks of nothing.

::::::::::

The bleeding was normal, they said. Just the body's reaction to the termination.

The cramping was normal, the pain was normal, and supposedly the empty feeling in his heart was normal too. Or maybe that's only because he was used to feeling this way ever since Kurt decided to break them up for good. They'd been so happy... or so Blaine thought. He did his best to be the perfect man for his fiance and even though they had their spats (didn't everyone?), they still loved each other. Blaine loved Kurt with all his heart, with every fiber of his being.

But Kurt didn't feel the same. Not anymore. Perhaps not ever.

Not true, a small voice nags in the back of his head. Kurt did love you. Once. He huffs out a heavy breath in response, curling his fingers tightly around the dampening blanket as he holds it over his head. The air inside is stuffy, thick with heat and the scent of his sweat. He's dripping perspiration, soaking the fabric he's wrapped in as well as the cushions of the couch. As he lays there in pain, he hopes he's not bleeding over his mom's new sofa. The last thing he needs is for her to be disappointed with him over that.

She's already upset that he's taken over her home. He knows that for a fact.

(He's wrong.)

Another strike of anguish rips through his stomach and he cries out, letting one shaky hand fall from the blanket to rest on his stomach. The slight pudge that was there before is now flatter, gone within a few minutes of heart stopping resignation. He'd left the day before with one goal in mind and he'd achieved it. The horrible fear that plagued him since the morning he took the test was now gone, leaving him hollow and... lonely. He can't escape the words that race through his mind, the blame and guilt that courses through his veins. He's so tired, he hasn't slept properly in weeks though everyone around him would beg to differ. They see him in bed and assume he's resting. In reality, he's in bed waiting for it all to end.

Because he can't handle it any longer. Not this pain, not this heartbreak... and now, guilt.

Because he ended it. Not them, but a part of them. Their child.

He'd only been home for a few days before he decided to take the test on a whim. The idea that he could possibly be pregnant felt like a horror movie in the making. How could he be carrying the child of a person who hated him so? How could he possibly go on raising something that belonged the one person who hurt him the most?

I'm just so scared that one day you're gonna wake up and you're gonna realize, 'I don't love him anymore.'

When the timer beeped that fateful morning and the word pregnant stared back at him, it was like whatever was left of Blaine Anderson's world crumbled that day. He remembers the stick falling to the floor, the sound of it bouncing off the tile and scattering to a halt by his bare foot. He remembers the instant feeling of bile rising in his throat and the battle it took to lift the toilet seat so he could be sick in it. Afterward, he'd sat down on the floor, pressed a palm to his churning stomach... and sobbed. Everything he'd been pushing away came back to haunt him: Kurt's expression as he took of the ring, his words, the way he looked, the tears in his eyes. Everything.

Then the voices started. Doubt crept up on him like darkness, covering him in shadows that he was too weak to fight off. At night, he'd hear things. Look at you having his baby... he doesn't even like you! How lovely; a permanent reminder of the love you lost! Such a shame the baby's gonna have a daddy like you - you can't even keep your man happy! How are you supposed to raise a happy and healthy child? Disgraceful.

There were evenings when he'd sob himself hoarse, panicked over what to do and how to handle his situation. He scoured the internet for days hoping to find an answer or to build up the resolve to take care of things himself. He had options: tell Kurt or not tell him. Based on those few choices, he could've decided several different things: tell him and keep it, tell him and abort it, not tell him and abort it, or not tell him and keep it.

In the end, after several tear-filled nights, he made his decision... he aborted it.

There was no way he could handle a pregnancy right now, let alone giving birth alone and raising the child all by himself. He knew it was selfish on his behalf to not say anything to the baby's other father (or at least that's what it felt like), but after the way Kurt shattered his heart, he didn't know what to do. He was so confused, befuddled by the way the world had collapsed around him. It was like one huge cosmic joke on him - here, let's have your fiance destroy your dreams and then we'll let you know you're carrying his child! Surprise!

So, he did what he had to do... and now he had to deal with the consequences of his actions, the gut-wrenching pain of it all.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry," he cries into the hazy air, breath hitching back into another chest-wrecking sob that sends him into a frenzy of tears. The hand on his stomach clutches the flesh a little harder, fingers digging deep into his soft skin, bruising the tender muscles there to leave darkening prints later on. His abdomen cramps up yet again, leaving him breathless in pain, and he weeps, aching for the love he lost and the life he snuffed out. "I'm s-sorry."

He knows he should be proud of his decision, that he should feel brave for making it. Because at this point in his life, he wasn't ready to be a father, not without someone by his side to love him and care for him and their baby. But he can't help but think about how hard it is to go through this alone. The physical pain of the abortion is nothing compared to the cavernous misery in his soul. He's never been/felt so broken. Not even after being left alone in an alley, bleeding and beaten, struggling to remain awake while his date crawled across the pavement to him, screaming at him to not let the darkness get him.

It didn't then - the darkness, that is - but he's sure it will now.

Another gasp and he curls up in a ball, ignoring the hold on his blanket in order to wrap his arms around his waist. It's never enough, the hold he has on things. He's never been enough: not for his family, not for his friends, not for Kurt, and definitely not for the baby. He'd known it from the second he dropped the pregnancy test: no matter what, the baby would leave him eventually, so why not fix that now? He'd hated the thought from the minute it flashed through his mind, but even now as he lays on the sofa weeping over the sorrows of his pathetic life, he knows it's true.

No one ever stays. He's not worth it and he never will be.

He remains on the sofa for another hour, allowing the troubling agony overwhelm him until it's finally too much and he has to roll off the couch to head elsewhere, lest his mother come home to him losing it on her furniture. He pulls the comforter away from its smushed spot in between the cushions and feels a bit thankful that he hasn't bled all over the pristine fabric. Then he layers the blanket over his shoulder and half-crawls his way out of the living room and upstairs, locking himself in his parents' bedroom before he drags himself into the master bathroom.

A shower sounds soothing, though he knows it won't help much. Hot water can only permeate so much without severely burning and even though he's sure the suffering he'd endure from scalding water wouldn't even compare to the torment in his heart, he doesn't even bother to turn the faucet up all the way. As he waits, he sheds his clothing, taking a look at his naked form in the mirror once all the garments are neglected on the floor. His body is thin, has been after the break-up, but the pot belly he saw daily in the mirror is smaller, hardly existent anymore. He looks gaunt, feels even more so, and after a few seconds, he can no longer tolerate the sight of himself in the mirror.

He's disgusted with everything, but especially with himself.

Never enough, his mind repeats as he steps into the shower. The steam envelops him and he lets the water beat down his back, the liquid washing away the dirt and sweat from his skin as well as hiding his tears. It does feel better, getting clean, and the heat helps with the cramps, but then he makes the mistake of looking.

There, before him on the shelf, sits a lightly used bottle of lavender scented baby wash, something his mother uses on nights when she has troubling sleeping. The purple tinged liquid sits alone on the shelf, but all Blaine can see is baby. Baby baby baby baby baby. It's not until that moment that he realizes what all has changed in his life, what all he's lost, what he's done and it's then that he drops to the floor of the shower, breaking out in sobs so loud they can be screams.

He cries himself hoarse, sliding down into the tub on his back as the water rains down on him. Months of heartbreak swallow him whole, suck him deeper into his misery, and he lets it, knowing that no matter what happens after this it won't matter. Kurt's gone, he's failed at everything, and he's ruined the one thing that could have possibly saved him.

No, not saved, destroyed. It was only a matter of time. Always a matter of time because, like he's always known, nobody ever stays. He's never enough for anyone and he never will be.

That night, he falls, and with no one to catch him, he keeps spiraling. Neverending. Down, down, down. Straight into the darkness.

A/N: I don't know if I'll continue this. If anything, I'd write something pertains to Kurt, but I guess it depends on whether or not there's any interest in it or in this drabble alone. Sorry for the downer. It just wouldn't leave me alone. I was trying to write WICL and this wouldn't move out of the way so my WICL ideas could come out. Thus, this drabble was conceived. Anyway, if you don't mind, please review and let me know what you thought. I hope this wasn't too terrible. I've never written a fic with this topic before.