A/N: An update! Hope it doesn't disappoint!
Wasn't even going to write more till another day but the reviews motivated me. Then I wasn't going to stay up to proofread but I told myself, 'If I have 8 or more reviews I'll do it." And then I did! So here it is! See? Reviews are good!
Also thank you 'Jo' for telling me 'Roger's' real name! Now can someone tell me how to go back and change stuff so I can change Roger to Chase in chapter one?
Thank you, thank you, all who reviewed!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.
Warnings: Rating going up. Nothing too graphic.
.
Step. Step.
His feet all but slapped the hallway tile.
Step. Step.
His shoulders sagged, his posture lacking.
Step. Step.
Probably had to do with his footwear.
Step. Step. Step.
No nice loafers today.
Step. Step.
Blaine dropped lazily into his seat.
Shame. Shame.
Glee club. If that wasn't a painful reminder, he didn't know what was. Oh wait. How about everything?
One by one, students slipped in through the door. Some chatting, some quietly taking their place within the room. Unique was being her typical diva self. Arty had his usual smile on as he rolled in. There were others who entered, displeasure on there features. Tina was probably on her high horse over wanting solos. The new girl, she was often concerned over Puck's brother. He couldn't recall their names at the moment. Didn't care enough.
"Why are you, uh, wearing a t-shirt?" Sam flopped into the chair to his right, a frown shaping his large mouth. When Blaine kept quiet, the blond tried again. "Isn't there like some rule that you and Kurt have that says you can't wear those?" A joke, but the concern was clear.
"Yeah," Another blond popped over his shoulder. "It's like rule number 3. Dolphins don't wear t-shirts. Actually, dolphins don't wear much of anything, right?" Brittany's face scrunched up slightly, the gears turning as she tried to figure it out.
Green eyes glanced up , taking in the sight of loose, free curls. Another thing to cause worry.
Blaine sighed, frustration stepping in to hide his true feelings. Shame.
"Woke up late. Didn't have a lot of time to work on my appearance." More excuses. More shame.
"You and Kurt are still fighting."
Yes, people knew. His fellow students weren't stupid. But they were trusting. He'd kept his actions, his mistake to himself. Blaine was a coward. He' been a coward when he'd ran to Dalton and he was still one now.
"Yeah, but it's no big deal. Just. Stuff. You know."
"Yeah, well Kurt can be a bit of a drama queen. So I'm sure he'll get over whatever it is." Sam's comforting smile failed on his class mate. Blaine nodded, letting the blame fall on Kurt.
Lately he wasn't as lonely.
Shame. It loved keeping him company.
.
Click. Click.
Masochist.
Click. Click.
That's the word, correct?
Click.
Whatever it is, he's sure it describes him.
Click. Click.
Why else would he be on the computer, doing this?
Click. Click.
Found it.
Fear. Fear.
Facebook. For a brief moment he froze. Maybe he shouldn't. How could he even be sure Blaine had him as a friend? Over and over, he'd assured Kurt that the guy was no one too him. And he'd made a promise to never talk to, whoever the guy was, again. This was ludicrous. Crazy. Trust needed to be rebuilt. Stalking each other on social medias was certainly a step in the wrong direction.
Luckily for him, most of their friends were mutual. Faces belonging to old friends lit the screen. Tina. Mercedes. Nick. People from a whole life time ago.
The rest, well he'd flipped through his first love's page enough time's out of boredom to know.
Minutes was all it took for him to find a few names that stuck out.
Jake P.
Eli. C.
Marley Rose.
Mark Sanders.
Snapping his laptop closed, he throw it onto the bed. A light bounce. Obviously this was a mistake. His hands shook, pulled tightly to his chest. There had been three mysterious guys. One of them could be- there was no way. His ocean eyes locked on the laptop, burning, begging. He silently demanded answers he didn't want to hear.
Unsure, his hand began to move forward. Timidly, the tips of his long fingers dragged the laptop back towards him. Could he really do this? Could he risk looking at the man Blaine had sought comfort in? Could he handle it?
No. In his heart he knew it would kill him. Knowing what that man looked like would run his imagination wild. It was hard enough already.
Imagining an unknown hand sliding up the chest that belonged to him. Had. Should. Seeing Blaine's face alive with desire as he stepped up to the faceless man. Looking up/down, looking at another man with hunger. Grabbing blond/brown/black hair, grabbing hair, to tilt the face. Smashing his warm, full lips against another pair. Opening his mouth to trace his tongue along-
-lips that tasted of beer and chips. Not delicious cherry chap stick. Desperately, he wrapped his arms around a slender waist, pulling the other boy closer, allowing their bodies to mold into each other. Moving upwards, he outlined the silk skin hidden by a black shirt. With a last tug, teeth on lips, a nip, he let go. Uncertainty. Gold eyes stared deeply into his own. "I want you." That's all it took. Some guy wanting him. Touching him. So real and solid. With a shove and a moan, his back found the cream wall. The sound of his zipper sent chills down his body. As though he wasn't hard enough. Pants. Boxers. Warmth. His talented tongue. Moaning, he threw his hips forward, bucking, deeper, more. A flick. Slow swirls claiming him, caring for him, wanting him in a way he hadn't been in months. Deep. Deep. So deep. Better then he'd ever experienced with- One more loud cry. A moan. A release. A name. On his lips. A name.
Eli.
Tears again. No. Kurt, as strong as he tried to be, wouldn't be able to handle it.
With less confidence he pressed in his password. Before, it had been his anniversary. Now the digits he typed in were for his birthday.
Marley Rose. A girl. He wasted no time with her. Jake P. P as in Puckerman. He'd heard about Puck's younger brother. Once more, no concerns there. Eli. C. Mark Sanders. Which should he click on first? "I. Choose. You."
Eli C.
A boy with blond locks and gold eyes smirked at him. Before he even had a chance to scroll around he knew. He knew.
He would spend another hour checking pics and statuses for signs of interaction with Blaine. Checking and finding. The first sign of their interaction was the picture.
The picture had seven likes. Blaine and six others. Blaine. A like and a comment.
A cute little smiley face.
.
"Good morning." Too cheerful for his liking.
"Morning." Weakly given.
"I thought you might like some coffee." Chase stretched out his arm a few inches to hand the cup over to the intern. "What kind is it?" Kurt wouldn't be rude but he was rather picky.
"Grande nonfat mocha."
Wide eyed, Kurt questioned, "How'd you know?"
"I have my ways." Teasing.
A faint blush dusted his cheeks. Nervous for a reason he didn't understand, Kurt glanced to the side, not allowing a look at the fashion designer's pleased features. Lately the older man had found reason after reason to run into Kurt. They'd only speak a few sentences, but he was always so cheerful, so warm. As though he didn't have a care in the world. Was he always like that? Or was it just when he was with-
A short laugh slipped out of his lips. What a arrogant thought. Chase smiled in response, not seeming to care why Kurt had chuckled.
Reaching out, Chase gently tilted the shorter man's chin. The contact surprised him. No one had touched him in months. For the many days he was apart from Blaine, he'd felt no touches. None so simple, yet so affectionate.
"It's nice hearing you laugh."
More blushing.
"Your laugh could light up anyone's day."
Curse his burning cheeks.
"Whose day would possible light up from me just laughing?" What a silly notion. Chase just continued to smile happily at him.
"My day."
Cheeks. Traitors.
"See you around Kurt." With a wave Chase walked off, back to work.
Kurt brought his coffee up for a sip. Delicious. As he placed it on the counter, intending to begin working as well, something caught his eyes. Dark marks were scribbled on the side of the cup.
A cute little smiley face.
.
A/N: Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Reviews are loved!