Hope ya'll like OC's cause Erik's back! Also, in case you hadn't noticed, every chapter has a song in it, and the chapter is named after a lyric or the song title. Just for clarification. Enjoy, and review for more! :)

DEMONS

CHAPTER FOUR

BY NOTALONE87

When Blaine awoke the next morning, there was a peaceful Latina girl sound asleep on his chest. After carefully removing her from his chest, he escaped into the kitchen. He looked outside the window, initially thinking it was just a dreary day, but looking at the clock told him otherwise. It was 6:15 A.M.

After drinking the dregs of yesterday's coffee, Blaine poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. He plopped himself on the well-worn armchair and munched absentmindedly.

After coming to terms with his feelings for Kurt, Blaine had felt so anxious that Santana would sense it or something. After they got home, he was so plagued with fear that the only thing he said to her was; "I'm going to bed." When she joined him, his nervousness only grew.

Would she notice if he didn't stroke her hair the same way? Would she realize if he didn't have the same breathing pattern? Blaine didn't want to take any chances, so he migrated to the couch, only to realize that solitude was the only thing worse than company at the moment.

After much debate, he finally settled on the bed where Santana then used him as a pillow, to Blaine's mortification. He had only fallen asleep an hour before he woke.

Santana trudged out of the bedroom only a moment after Blaine finished his cereal. Blaine quickly sat up, and instantly stood up and pecked her on the cheek, as he did every morning. But today it felt so forced, so obligatory.

"Hey, babe. Why are you up so early?" Santana drawled, her voice thick with roughness.

"Oh, I just couldn't stay asleep. What about you?" Blaine said almost robotically, making it seem like the sympathy was compulsory. He hoped Santana didn't catch on to that, but Blaine knew she would. She was a smart girl.

"I need something warm under me to sleep." She said, stifling a sleepy grin. Blaine forced a chuckle, even though his insides were trembling. This information threatened to explode like a bomb, except a bomb was quicker. And you knew how much time you had left. Blaine's bomb was indefinite.

"You okay, baby? You seem tense." Santana asked. Blaine realized that he had been subconsciously biting his nails. He dragged his hand resentfully from his mouth. What was he worrying about? He was making a big deal out of nothing. He had heard all kinds of stories about 'questioning' people who had turned out 100% straight. They all say it was just a phase. "Yeah. You're not gay," Blaine thought. "You just think Kurt's cute. Totally normal. It's just a phase, just a phase, just a-"

"BLAINE!" Santana shouted snapping her fingers. "God damn! Where did you go off to? I was saying 'are you alright' for like, five minutes!" Santana demanded. Only then did Blaine realize he hadn't answered her question.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Maybe I need… more sleep." He mumbled, trailing off.

Santana nodded and trudged off to the kitchen for coffee. Blaine exhaled and let himself deflate back onto the couch. He needed to figure this out... he needed to get away for awhile...

"Hey, babe, I'm going for a walk." Blaine said timidly, his whole body aquiver. Santana merely nodded dismissively and turned her attention back to her breakfast. Blaine quickly pulled on a clean t-shirt and waited for a moment, expecting Santana to suddenly figure out his motives.

But she stayed silent.

Blaine opened the door hesitantly. "Well... See you later." he stepped out the door into the still-dark world.

The air was frigid, even for a New York winter day. The cold wind caressed Blaine, the icy jet of arctic air seeping its way into his veins, streaming through his body.

Blaine flagged down a taxi and asked him to take him to 302 West 45th street. There was someone he needed to see.

Kurt woke up with his boyfriend pillow snugly fit around his neck. He sighed, feeling absolutely pathetic. He quickly unslung it from his neck, and trudged to the kitchen where Brody and Rachel were sitting, happily munching on scrambled eggs and bacon. Rachel was wearing a tight blue one-shoulder top, paired with a black, sequined pencil skirt. Brody was naked.

"Hey, buddy. There's this pamphlet about this great new thing called clothing. You should really pick it up." Kurt groaned, thinking of the $100 chairs that were now soiled. Before Brody could counter, Rachel stepped in.

"Pick your battles, sweetie. Now, Kurt. Did you tell him?" Rachel said, he gaze going from Brody to Kurt.

"Tell who what?" Kurt said, biting into a piece of toast. Even though he had asked, he thought he had a pretty good idea of what Rachel was wondering.

"Blaine, that you can't talk to him anymore." Rachel said plainly, but her eyes were beginning to glow with fret.

"Well I would've told him, but you know sometimes you forget things when a diving board breaks and falls on you." Kurt said, surprised that she hadn't even expressed concern if he was feeling better before she dived right into her own personal agenda.

"Oh, come on. The doctor said you were fine. Now, I want you to call him right now and tell him that it's done, whatever you two are." Rachel asserted, finishing her eggs. When Kurt sat motionless, Rachel rolled her eyes and went over to him.

"I know he's cute, but he's not worth it." She whispered. Kurt nodded, but his mind was far away from the message.

Kurt, for some unexplainable reason, felt like Blaine was one of the only people in his life whom the mere presence of could make him smile. He didn't even know why, he barely knows him; he's never even been one on one with him. 'That's it.' He thought.

"Okay, Rachel," Kurt agreed. "I'll call him right now." Picking up his phone, Kurt knew with Rachel listening, he was going to have to play this very smooth to pull it off. Dialing the number, Rachel sat down right next to him. Blaine picked up.

"Hey, Blaine. I'm really sorry I had to leave yesterday, there was this crazy important essay I had to do. You understand, right?" Kurt spoke loud enough for Rachel to hear every word, but soft enough to sound sincere to Blaine.

"Yeah, totally. How are you? You looked pretty bruised up and stuff. What'd the doctor say? You're not going to press charges, are you?" Blaine blathered. Kurt chuckled.

"One thing at a time, Oprah. I'm fine, the doctor said just to ice my head and relax, and no I'm not pressing charges. It's not your fault." Kurt said, chuckling.

Rachel gestured and gave him a look that said 'Small talk is for talk shows and politicians.' Kurt shot her one of his world famous; 'Bitch please' glares.

"That's good. So what did you call about?" Blaine asked politely. Kurt sighed. This was going to be difficult.

"Well... I-" Suddenly, Kurt started a sudden, very fake-sounding coughing fit. It went on for 10, 20, 30 seconds. Finally, with Blaine silenced on the other line, Rachel rolled her eyes and got up to get him some water.

"I think that we should hang out. Just the two of us. Tonight. I know this great little Italian place down on Broadway." Kurt talked hastily and in an almost incoherent whisper. He crossed his fingers behind his back. Blaine was quiet for at least a minute.

"Sure. I can make it. You said... Just the two of us?" Blaine asked, his voice ever so slightly trembling.

"Yes." Kurt said with finality in his voice, hoping he got the hint to not bring his devil of a girlfriend. Again, quiet on the other line.

"Okay. I'll be there." Blaine declared just as Rachel came back in. Knowing how to seal the deal on both sides, Kurt spoke.

"I'm sorry it's so sudden." Kurt went on, knowing that the two people listening were taking this statement very differently.

"It's fine. See you tonight." Blaine piped, the dapper confidence back in his voice.

"Yeah." Kurt stammered, feeling lame, but not knowing what else to say. Blaine hung up first, so Kurt just closed his phone, his body slumped over and his face full of fake sorrow. Rachel rubbed his back supportively.

"It was the right thing. I don't want people to judge us by our pasts... because we don't live there anymore." Rachel said, her voice vacant and quiet. Kurt just nodded, simultaneously thinking; "Wow, you're so deep, I can't even see you anymore'.

"Well, yeah. Whatever. Oh, by the way, my cousin is in town and we're having dinner tonight." Kurt said, praying that she wouldn't put two and two together. But at the moment, she was too absorbed to read the writing on the wall.

"Yeah, yeah. Me and Brody are going out too." she said, her voice still far off in the distance, her eyes clouded with reminiscence. Kurt was about to walk away when Rachel started crying. Only a moment later, the tears were coming down in huge, wretched sobs.

"Honey, what's the matter?" Kurt said, his voice sincere.

"Seeing Santana, and seeing you everyday, it's just..." Rachel let out another heaving sob. "All these ghosts..." she said, the tears finally subsiding as she pulled herself together. Her overload of mascara was all over her face now, making her look like some kind of rabid raccoon.

Still recovering, Rachel sauntered off to her bedroom, immediately turning up her stereo full blast to her "Misunderstood" playlist.

"I'm scared to get close, and I hate being alone.

I long for that feeling to not feel at all.

The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.

I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim."

As Kurt heard the word swim, he rubbed his temple. But something else crossed his still-throbbing mind. He realized that he was slowly but surely, somehow, becoming a better swimmer than his demons.

Jumping out of the taxi, Blaine was face to face with a ratty apartment. And when he said ratty, it wasn't just from his wealthy perspective. No, the paint was peeling, all the doors creaked, and the electricity was on a dime and usually went out a dozen times a day. Blaine knocked the door, which immediately sent a few spiders crawling out onto the welcome mat, obviously disturbed from their resting. The door shot open at once, with a deafening rasp.

"Hey, Blaine. Come on in." Erik said, his hair mussed up and wearing sweatpants and an old Aerosmith t-shirt. Blaine walked into a complete array of mess. When he had been a roommate with Erik, he had been so messy that Blaine actually missed some of his classes just to clean it up. Being with someone as neat as Santana was much more settling. Even though he'd always deny it, Blaine was a bit of a neat freak.

"Hey, Erik. I thought you would be the best person to talk to about... This." Blaine said, willing himself to be vague.

"About... What, exactly?" Erik asked ignorantly. Saying this out loud was a foreign concept to Blaine, so he decided just to start with a question.

"How did you know you were gay?" Blaine blurted blatantly, his eyes swimming with vex and uncertainty. He was debating whether or not to just get up and go home. But before he could stand, Erik spoke.

"Well, I knew when I was 13. I was in this movie theater with my girlfriend, and she started like, making out with me. It honestly felt like dog slobber. And I couldn't stop staring at this guy in front of us, wishing I was kissing him instead." Erik addressed. Blaine's chest felt like it was under a lead vest because of all the times that exact situation had happened to him.

"That was the moment I knew. So I apologized, and walked right out of the theater." Erik finished, shrugging. Blaine sat there, deflated, like he was a dead horse currently being beaten.

"So... Questioning, huh?" Erik said with a knowing smile, but it slipped off his face after seeing Blaine's face full of despair.

"Hey... man, you'll be fine. You're in New York... you know, it's legal..." Erik trailed off, unable to find more comforting words.

"I don't want to be gay!" Blaine shouted, his eyes fogged with tears. "I want to love Santana, I don't want people judging me, and I don't want to be in love with Kurt!" Blaine screamed, his voice rising in intensity with each of his fears.

He wasn't crying, but his eyes were blood red, and his voice was cracking, making every syllable severed.

"I would ask who Kurt is, but I don't think that's the best thing to bring up right now. Listen man, I know how hard it is. I know how much you don't want it, but it's who you are. I'm not saying you have to come to terms with that now, but I'm saying that you have to stop feeling like it can be changed." Erik spoke with elegance and nobility. Blaine would be grateful, but the truth of his words cut through him like a cold reality, making him detest the honesty of his statement.

Blaine wanted to express some form of thanks, despite his resentment, but he couldn't find the words or his voice, so he just nodded. Erik knew of Blaine's pride, so he just let it be.

"So, are you gonna see this 'Kurt' soon?" Erik asked with a serious look on his face that at any other time would've been replaced with a knowing smirk.

"Actually, tonight. He invited me to dinner." Blaine said with hesitation in his voice, not wanting to say it out loud. Vocality was a synonym for finality in Blaine's mind, and he wanted to unrealness of his predicament to last as long as possible. The panic on Blaine's face was like a tangible mask, touchable but unable to diminish or change.

"I know you, man. You've got so much courage. It's what made you ask out Santana, it's what made you move to New York, and it's what made you come over here today and tell me all this." Erik said, his voice full and doubtless. "No matter what happens tonight, or for the rest of your life, I know you're gonna be just fine." Erik concluded, his voice not wavering once. It was because of this omniety that Blaine believed him. He would be fine. No matter what.

But as many people know, Blaine being one of them, getting rid of that little piece inside of doubt inside you is near impossible. But with Erik's confidence still fresh in Blaine, he knew that anything was possible.