Never Drinking Again
Excuse me but I might drink a little more than I should tonight
And I might take you home with me if I could tonight
And baby, I'ma make you feel so good tonight
'Cause we might not get tomorrow- Pitbull
An hour later, Blaine sat at a small booth in the restaurant waiting on Rachel. His phone vibrated, reading off a text from Kurt.
"She might want to know info for Regionals! Don't give it away!"
Blaine smiled. As if he would give secrets about their performance away. As he texted the other boy, Rachel sat down at the table.
Rachel Berry did not look like herself. Her normally perfect hair was stringy, laying limply upon her shoulders. No makeup graced her features, revealing dark circles under her eyes and dry, cracked lips. A polka dot dress was heavily rumpled and didn't match the rest of her attire, unusual for her anal personality.
"Sorry I'm late," she said quickly, laying her clunky purse next to her with a distinct "thud".
Looking up, he glanced at Rachel quickly, tucking the phone into his pocket. "I've only been here a little while. You're fine," he replied, flashing a toothy grin. "So what's up? You don't look well."
"I'm fine, just a little sick."
As they ordered their food and began to talk, Rachel looked more and more sick. Deciding not to comment, the Blaine continued their conversation. It was something about Wicked, Rent and other musicals. As they got into what they had both been doing, he mentioned offhandedly that he had been to a party last night and had been rather drunk. Rachel paled. When he asked her what was wrong, she turned sheet white.
"Do you remember much about my party a while back?" she asked suddenly.
Blaine thought about it for a moment, and then sighed. "I remember lots of alcohol. You and I made out, right?"
"We did," she replied, nodding. "Do you remember..." she paused. "what else we did?"
Blaine also nodded, his mouth full of food. "Vaguely. We—we had sex," he said once he'd swallowed. "It didn't mean anything though, did it? I mean... I'm gay, and you still love Kurt's brother." He took another bite.
Rachel shook her head, looking as if she was about to cry. She put her head on her arms, her forehead reaching the cool wood of the table. "It might have to mean something, Blaine," she whispered, causing the boy's ears to strain simply to hear. Before he could reply, ask her what she meant, she looked up at him with wet eyes. "Blaine, I don't know what to say, and believe me, I almost always know what to say," she said, nearly hysterical.
"What?" he asked, urging her to continue. His heart was pounding. What if she was dying, transferring to Dalton's sister school, was in love with him?
"Blaine," she began. "I—I, I'm pregnant."
The boy across from her coughed loudly, nearly choking. Whatever he had been expected, that was not it. As he recovered, he stared at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping. "Are you serious? You're joking, right?" he managed.
"Why would I joke about something like this?" she cried, tears on her cheeks. "Why would I joke about having a baby, ruining my reputation, killing my Broadway dreams?"
Blaine put his head in his hands. "I don't know," he replied. "I don't know." Drawing himself up, he asked, his voice shaking, "Are you sure? Sure you're pregnant, sure that it's mine?"
"You're the only guy I've ever slept with. And I've been to the doctor, I went with Noah. He was just relieved that he didn't have to deal with it."
"I'm the only-" he repeated, trailing off. "But I'm gay," he whispered desperately.
The waitress came by and gave them both an odd look. A girl, crying, her chin on the table, a boy, hunched over, looking like he was about to do the same. Wordlessly, she passed them both tissues from her pocket.
"Thank you," Blaine croaked and gave most of them to Rachel. "So what are we going to do?" he asked her as she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.
"I don't know. I don't want an abortion, my religion wouldn't allow it in this kind of situation. And I don't want to throw away my, and your, drams of making it big. But I don't want a stranger taking my baby."
Blaine reached across the table, taking her hand into his own. He squeezed it gently before pulling away. "Rachel, I don't have that kind of dream. You do, Kurt does, but I never have. I do show choir for gun, not as a stepping stone to get famous." He slumped in his seat. "I'll support you in what you decide, and I'll help if you want, but don't think you're ruining anything for me."
They paid the bill for the food and left, making their way into the empty parking lot. Rachel embraced the man, and he returned the gesture, putting his arm around her.
"Will you help me tell my parents? Not today or tomorrow, I know you probably need time, but soon?" she asked.
"Only if you do the same for me," he replied, chuckling. The both nodded. Minutes later, as Blaine watched Rachel pull way, he sat on the hood of his beat up car. "I'm never drinking again," he said decisively, swinging his arm around to shield his eyes from the sun.
This is the second chapter, which ends what's already typed. I have a few other chapters written, but getting them into the computer could take a while. So this chapter is full of cliche-y stuff. It will continue. Sorry.