It's a comfort to realise that anywhere I go in New York is at least ten times better than anywhere in Lima. Pulse, the nearby gay-bar, is a prime example of that. There's no dingy bar feel to it. It's modern, it's fresh and very stylish. And although it gives off the appearance of being really expensive, I can't say that it's much pricier than Scandals is.

While it's good to know that there's a pretty decent watering hole within walking distance of my campus, I'm really not in the mood for it tonight. I want to be in my room, studying – getting somewhere with the million assignments I've been given. Damn Blaine and his gorgeous eyes.

A couple of guys come up to me and offer to buy me drinks, but I say no. I really don't need to re-explore my relationship status tonight – that's a story best left for a sadder, lonelier time. Tonight, since I'm here, I'm just going to drink and feel good.

Since I remember vividly what happens to me when I'm drunk (or at least, I remember the torture of the mornings after I got myself drunk), I plan to stop long before then.

However, and I'm not entirely sure how I let it happen, I find myself on the dance floor two hours later, about to make out with a guy I don't even know. The past few hours are such a blur of colour and sound that I can't remember his name or how we got to this point. All I know is that I have to get out of this club. I have to get back to my room and I need to sleep this evening off.

But if I can't even remember ending up in the arms of some creepy stranger, what are the odds that I'll make it home alone without being mugged or stabbed or something?

So, hating that I have to do this, I call Blaine.

"Kurt, are you okay?"he says immediately after answering the phone and I can't help the little flutter my heart does. I blame it on the alcohol.

"Can… can you… um… give me a lift? I'm at Pulse and I don't think I can walk alone."

I sound like such an idiot.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he says before hanging up. I stand waiting for him outside the club, shivering in the cold night air. I should have taken a coat, but I hadn't been thinking that far ahead.

I audibly gasp when someone wraps an arm around me. Whoever it is smells strongly of alcohol, sweat, and the most disgusting aftershave I have ever had the misfortune of smelling. I fight not to throw up on the spot and try to escape his grip, which tightens around me the more I struggle.

"We never got to finish what we started in there," he purrs into my ear and fear floods my body as I realise that it's the guy from the dance floor. I can't get away from him now – his grip is like a vice. It's all I can do not to scream.

"Please let go of me," I say as calmly and forcefully as I can.

"And where would the fun in that be?" the man replies with a twisted smile. "Besides, I just have to wait a few minutes and you won't put up much of a fight at all."

It's true – I'm too weakened by the alcohol and whatever he's probably slipped into my drink to fight back. I'm about to scream out loud when I see Blaine's car pull up along the sidewalk and I feel relief wash over me as he climbs out.

"BLAINE!" I yell as loudly as I can and his head immediately snaps up to take in the sight in front of him. "BLAINE!"

"Calling for your boyfriend?" says the man, scraping his teeth across my earlobe while snaking his hand across my mouth. "I don't think he'll hear you from here. And besides, you don't want to ruin our fun, do you?"

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Blaine yells as he runs towards us. The man's grip loosens and I take the opportunity to elbow him in the stomach and escape his grasp. Though he's at least a head shorter than the guy, Blaine soon has him pinned against the wall. He shoves his shoulders hard as he shouts "I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!"

The element of surprise has worn off and the man has clearly worked out that Blaine is a hell of a lot smaller than him. So without thinking too much about it, he throws his fist at Blaine's face and it makes contact with his eye. Blaine reels back for a moment in shock, before his fist makes contact with the man's jaw, breaking it.

The man seems to take a hint and runs for it, leaving Blaine standing staring after him and me shaking, trying to process what just happened.

"Are you okay?" says Blaine, walking over to me and placing a hand carefully on my shoulder. I pull him into a tight hug, trying to convey how grateful I am for what he's done. I realise that I'm sobbing, nearly hysterical. Nothing like that has ever happened to me and it leaves me feeling stupid. I was so careless tonight.

"I'm such an idiot – I should have watched my drink better. I think he might have put something in it." I'm shaking and my mind is starting to cloud over. I've never seen Blaine look like this though. He's furious.

"It's not your fault, okay?" he says low and dangerously. "Whatever you think, it's not your fault. It's that fuck-up's. You didn't ask for that."

I nod, my mind feeling fuzzy. I need to sleep or sit down or something. This is too much – too much is happening. The world is spinning and I'm starting to feel numb.

"Blaine, I need to go home," I say, feeling my legs starting to give way.

The next thing I remember is waking up to see a glass of water, bottle of aspirin and a handwritten note.

I've gone to get us breakfast. Hope you don't feel too gross today. We need to talk about last night. - B

What have I done now?