PROLOGUE:
Fucking is fucking. As far as Sebastian Smythe was concerned, there was no need to mix sex up with love at all. In fact, if Sebastian had his way, he would do away with love altogether and just fuck his way through the entire country. Suffice it to say, Sebastian does not believe in love. For him, there was only fucking.
And this was why Blaine always found himself at either Skins or Boxers (if there was a game or something that Sebastian wanted to watch while cruising) almost every night since they reached legal age. Not that he minded. He got his fair share of ass during those nights anyway. They were young, single, and extremely good-looking, so it was always a fun night for them. The only thing was that whenever Sebastian was able to snag that ultimate hook up of the night, he would leave Blaine to fend for himself or clean up the train wreck that the man always managed to leave behind. And recently, Blaine seemed to always be alone when he went home. Time and again Blaine would say he was over it, but every time Sebastian asks him to go out at night, it barely takes some convincing for him to cave.
I guess it's important to note right here that Sebastian and Blaine had been joined at the hip since God knows when. They grew up together in Westerville, Ohio, though Sebastian practically lived in Blaine's house since his parents were always out on business, and after Sebastian came out to his parents, Bruce and Dorothy Anderson became sort of surrogate parents to him because of the Smythe's reaction. They didn't necessarily disown Sebastian, but they barely spoke to the boy either. Blaine always thought Sebastian preferred it that way, rather than them forcing him to attend military school or something similar to 'straighten him out.'
Blaine always knew he was the only one who understood Sebastian Smythe to the very core and because of that, he was the only man who had the privilege of being called Sebastian's friend. Actually, he was the only one lucky enough to be acknowledged by Sebastian as his best friend. Blaine valued that title more than "singer-songwriter" ever did. Not that he was. He writes music and he does perform, but his shows are always limited to the local bars and cafés in Cincinnati, which meant that money, was somewhat tight. When his father sold their car dealership business and home in Westerville after the economy plummeted, Blaine was already studying in University of Cincinnati's Conservatory of Music so Bruce and Dorothy moved to Cincinnati to be closer to their son and opened a mid-sized 24-hour diner close to where the gay community was located. Blaine wasn't exactly struggling or merely scraping by, but he was only earning enough between working as a recording assistant at a music studio and his weekly gigs to pay for the small apartment he had close to the diner, put food on the table, and still be able to save some money for the future.
But Sebastian…oh, good ol' Sebastian Smythe. He was an up and coming corporate lawyer at Clarington and Clarington and had more money than any 27-year old gay bachelor should have. That was outside the trust funds that were set up by his father and his paternal grandfather, and the obscenely huge inheritance he received from his atrociously affluent maternal grandparents. To say that Sebastian was filthy rich was an understatement. Even if he chose not to work, he would be able to live comfortably for years without needing to lift a finger, but Sebastian got bored easily so he decided to work. And Sebastian being Sebastian, he made sure he was good at his job.
That Friday night found them the same way every Friday night did: cruising Skins for a hook up or two. But Blaine somehow felt that that Friday night was different. Little did they know that that was the night that would jumpstart the events that would derail the train-wreck that were their lives and it all started when Blaine and Sebastian unwittingly took one Kurt Hummel under their wing.