Another crack of thunder sounded, the storm outside shaking the house with its ferocity. Water began spurting through the tiny window near the ceiling, slowly cracking at the strain of the constant rain. Soon, the pressure became too much and the window popped open, allowing the frigid rainwater to pour into the basement room.

He knew he needed to escape to higher ground, but his feet seemed to be cemented to the floor. As the water level rose, so did the panic in his chest. The thought of drowning made his skin crawl. To him, it was probably one of the worst ways a person could die.

The water level continued its trek upward until it the little ripples tickled his chin. No matter how hard he tried, his feet could not lift from the floor. He was trapped.

He called out, but there was no one there to hear him. He kept trying until the water touched his lips, pouring into his opened mouth. Within a minute, he was completely submerged.

No! I want to die, but I don't want to die like this!

Impulse taking over, he tried to take a breath and found that he could. It must have been a fluke. He knew he wouldn't be able to do that again. And then it would be over.

Suddenly, he wasn't standing in the water, but instead, he was lying in a bed. His face was pressed into his pillow and his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. When he finally regained full consciousness, he quickly flipped over, greedily sucking air into his lungs.

"Can you keep it down in there, Lady Hummel? I really don't want to hear you getting it on with your hand tonight." And just like that, Kurt was brought back to reality by none other than Santana.

"Wasn't doing that, Satan." Kurt shot back, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. His heart was still pounding, seeming to work its way up into his throat.

Kurt glanced towards the window where a flashing neon light pulsed behind his curtains. That dream shook him too much for him to be able to fall back to sleep right away, so he decided to go into the main room.

Rachel and Santana were sleeping behind their privacy partitions, so Kurt tried to keep quiet. He went to the fridge and grabbed himself a mini bottle of water before falling back onto the couch. Kurt turned on the TV and quickly lowered the volume before scrolling through the guide until he found something half way interesting.

Unfortunately, the show wasn't engaging enough to keep his mind off the awful dream he'd just experienced and he was forced to face it head on.

To say that he was a happy individual would be like saying Rachel was unsure of herself or that Santana was soft-spoken. He'd had a hard life, but he never complained. What type of person would he be if he thought that his life was worse than those out in the world living with nothing? That's not to say that he didn't struggle, even with the things he had.

Yes, he did lose his mom when he was a kid and he did get bullied so much in school, he was almost forced to repeat a grade… but he was in New York now. The city of dreams… his dreams. His father was still with him and he had a great second family when his dad married Carole who brought along Finn. So why was he so depressed?

Maybe it was a chemical imbalance in his head or maybe he was just too weak to fight the darkness encroaching on his everyday life. He'd constantly go online and research depression. Symptoms, causes, remedies… There wasn't much that he could do short of going to a therapist it seemed, but he could never get the words out. The words that were always at the tip of his tongue, tainting it like poison that he needed to spit out. Then again, if he had poison in his mouth, he'd probably just swallow it to get the job done.

He'd always hated the thought of drowning or any sort of death involving oxygen deprivation. So in his dream, when he thought that he was going to drown, it scared him. He remembered thinking that he did want to die… but not in that way. To think about suicide was one thing, but to have a dream about it was another thing entirely. Though he wasn't committing suicide in the dream, he still acknowledged the fact that he did want to die. In his dreams and in real life.

Kurt knew that he'd never end up ending it. Wouldn't have the guts to flip the lights out permanently… but that didn't mean he never thought about it. He figured he could get into a car accident and the ambulance wouldn't be able to get to him in time, or maybe he'd get really sick and couldn't be saved. These things wouldn't happen to him on purpose, but it would still give him the end result he wanted.

As he slowly sipped his drink, the lump in his throat started to reduce. He just needed to go back to sleep. Once his water was gone, he turned off the television and wandered back to his 'room' and pulled the curtain back into place. His bed was torn up and it looked anything but comfortable, but being asleep and unconscious trumped being awake every time, so he settled into the rumpled bedding and hoped for a dreamless sleep.

It didn't seem like he was out that long before he was rudely awakened by Santana bitching about Rachel getting into the shower first. Kurt groaned, sliding the pillow out from under his head and using it as a shield towards the noise and light. He honestly felt hung over, but that was normally how he woke up every morning. It was like he could never get enough sleep.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. It's your turn to go buy the morning coffee." Santana barked, tossing a dense pillow at him with a bit too much force.

"I'm buying a coffee maker for Christmas." Kurt grumbled into his pillow.

"Oh, but Kurt! You can never get the right flavor with an at home coffee machine!" Rachel complained, apparently having finished her shower, "It's always too watery."

"Finally." Santana said, presumably speaking to Rachel, "Anyway. Why bother buying a coffee maker when we have a you to go get us coffee?" She laughed.

Kurt's stomach twisted at the comment, "Yes, because I'm only as good as the coffee I fetch for you two." He muttered.

"Of course!" Santana joked. It was clearly a joke. He knew Santana wouldn't really think that of him…

Kurt sighed, tossing his comforter aside. His bare feet hit the cold wooden floor as he padded around his room. He threw on a pair of skinny jeans and a sweater, topping it with a thick pea coat. New York winters were brutal.

After combing through his hair until it passed as presentable, he grabbed his keys and wallet to head down to the little coffee shop on the corner.

The sidewalk was packed with people on their morning commute who all seemed to be walking in one direction, the one direction Kurt was moving against. Each shoulder nudge, every muttered jab sent him back to the halls of McKinley. So he pressed past the crowd and dipped into the first coffee shop he saw. The little bell above his cheerily announced his presence to the small lot inside before he pressed himself back against the door. His eyes were closed as he took in even breaths, trying to remind himself that he was in New York, miles away from Lima.

"Hey. Move kid." A man with a thick New Yorker accent pushed him away from the door so he too could join the mass of people outside.

He tipped too far off balance and ended up falling into someone else. The two fell to the floor in a heap. Kurt was mortified, "Oh my god. I am so, so sorry. I-I can't believe I just did that. I-" His rambling was cut off when he actually took a second to look at the stranger on the floor with him.

The first thing he noticed was a pair of friendly, honey-glazed hazel eyes. The young man next to him smiled broadly at his stuttering, looking at him like he was the most adorable thing he's ever seen. His hair was dark, curly but tamed, with just the right amount of gel to make the strands shine.

Kurt realized he'd been staring, so he quickly averted his eyes, "Yeah, uh. Sorry."

The other man stood up without a word before offering his hand to Kurt. Kurt glanced up at his face, seeing nothing but friendliness, "Need some help?" He asked with a light-hearted chuckle.

"T-thanks." Kurt blushed, taking the guys hand to be helped up, "Sorry again. The guy pushed me and I couldn't get my balance."

The shorter man just shrugged, "Don't worry about it. It's not every day I get knocked off my feet by a handsome stranger." He winked playfully. Kurt glanced down to the floor, his heart sputtering in his chest in a foreign way, "I'm Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson." Blaine held out his hand again, but in a greeting.

Kurt took his hand once more, shaking it, "Kurt Hummel."

"Well, Kurt Hummel. Did you want to join me for a coffee? It's on me." He smiled.

"A-actually, I have to go. I didn't mean to come in here and my roommates will bitch me out if I don't get them the right coffee." He let out a short laugh that came out a bit strangled with his nervousness.

Blaine's dark eyebrows dipped a bit. He seemed almost… disappointed? "Okay. Well," He rummaged around in his side bag before producing a pen. Then he took Kurt's hand and flipped it over and proceeded to write his number on the palm of his hand. Kurt was glad he was wearing his long sleeved sweater as he noticed his jacket sleeve riding up, "Why don't you call me when you're free and you don't have bitching roommates demanding coffee?" He grinned, releasing Kurt's hand.

Kurt glanced at the number written on his hand, smirking at the little smiley face underneath it, "S-sure." Why did he have to stutter when he was nervous?

"See you around then, Kurt." Blaine said before walking up to the barista behind the counter.

"See you around." Kurt responded too late. With one final glance at the handsome man, he quickly rushed out of the building and headed towards his normal coffee shop.

===========================gLee==============================

So this was supposed to be a one shot, but the way I ended it seems to call for more. I'm working on a few other stories, but I got really frustrated with everything I was writing, so I stopped and gave myself a break with something new.

This fic is pretty personal. I'm kind of writing this as a sort of therapy for myself. The dream sequence in the beginning is a take on a dream that I actually had myself and so are a few other things added into this story.

I'm open to talking if anyone has ever felt the way Kurt is feeling in this fic. I know how hard it is to not be able to talk to others openly about this sort of thing. I love all of you, even if I haven't met you before! :)

Have you ever wanted to have a giant Klaine Fanfiction Convention where you can go and meet all of your favorite writers and socialize with readers? Someone should do that. I'd totally go.