I've never written anything like this before, so, obviously, it's different from all of my other works.
WARNING: Angst. Contains self-harm. Do not read if it will trigger you, please. That's the last thing I want.
I do not own Glee.
Trembling hands frantically worked, digging through drawers, looking under random items, searching, to find what they desperately needed.
It was here yesterday- he'd just put it here yesterday- and he needed it. He needed it right now. He didn't have time to go out and get more, he had to-
Ah.
There.
Blaine visibly relaxed as his hands located it and he pulled it from the drawer, letting out a small sigh of relief as it reflected in the light.
Thank god. He needed this today.
Silently, he opened his bedroom door and looked down the hallway, making sure he wouldn't be seen. His parents didn't need to know. The coast was clear and with another sigh of relief, he quickly walked across the hall and locked himself in the bathroom. His sanctuary. The place where he had control.
The control that he needed in his life; the stability that made him able to function.
He needed this. He needed the cutting. With every slice of the blade he felt the tension melt from his body; the stress of high school, college applications, and missing Kurt- his beautiful, amazing Kurt- just seemed to go away when he cut. They were all washed away, down the drain with his crimson blood. Just what he needed.
His steady hand brought the razor across his skin, leaving a perfect trail of red behind it. One after the other, down his arm.
Of course, he his these marks under bandages, which he covered with his long sleeved shirts.
No one else knew.
No one else could know. They couldn't find out.
This was Blaine's secret. This was Blaine's coping.
And it was something he was keeping to himself.
He knew it wasn't healthy and that he would be forced to stop if anyone found out. His razor would be thrown away, his cuts would be healed, and he would no longer have control.
But he knew he would go crazy without it. The stress would be too much for him, he wouldn't be able to handle everything in his life right now...
With Kurt gone, he felt alone in Lima. His heart was in New York with the love of his life, and until the day he graduated high school and got to join him there, he would be coping.
Coping on his own, with his razor.
Just what he needed.
I dunno what compelled me to write this, but I wanted some angst. Eh.
Review?