A/N: SO THIS ONE. Wow this one is a bit of a mouthful as a chapter. There's a brief mention of sexual assault accusations and minor teacher-student interaction. I'm recommending like none of this. Can we fucking talk about Blaine's mood-swings because holy shit. ALSO REVIEWS. Getting reviews has been really fucking awesome. I've never written a full length fic before, partially because I never had good enough ideas and partially because I've kept to drabbles and one-shots and everything tiny in this Universe due to it being so much easier to write. My attention span is small so finding something that I really want to focus on is probably the best thing in the world. So getting reviews for the first thing I've set my soul to just warms the cockles of my heart. Most of this chapter was written at my Grandparent's house during a family Christmas thing where I hid myself in their basement with my laptop and set to work grinding this out. And I think it's safe to say that I'm proud of the products of my family-avoiding skills. Lexi and I thank all of you who've taken an interest in this as of thus far because I promise that it means the entire world to us to find people liking what's in our heads. SO thank you from the bottom of our hearts and I hope that we don't fail to satisfy over the course of this fic. This has been a killer author's note and for that you have my apologies. This song is "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World.
I never said thank you for that,
now I'll never have a chance.
And if you were with me tonight,
I'd sing to you just one more time.
A song for a heart so big.
He woke up in bed, the alarm clocks glowing green numbers indicating that it was exactly 11:21 a.m. There was a navy blue wash bucket on the floor, glass of water and Tylenol on his nightstand. Christian deserved a fucking fruit basket or something. The stucco ceiling seemed to mock him, shadows created from the ridges swirling together in a way that couldn't be natural. Blaine was going to die. His stomach was on fire, twisting and churning while his head throbbed out its own drum beat. Everything ached and he was pretty sure if he rolled over he would die on the spot. Even his fucking fingers hurt.
Blaine clenched his teeth, sucking in a few preparatory breaths that did nothing but make him feel lightheaded before slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. He didn't need the pain medicine, no. He needed a distraction.
The car was almost silent save for Blaine's stuttering breathing. He was curled up in the chair, seatbelt swaying slightly with the jolts of the vehicle from where it hung unused. Christian spared him worried glances, taking the risk of removing his eyes from the road and the ever moving –albeit slowly- traffic. Blaine's head thumped dully against the window frame as his finger slipped on the black button and he struggled to roll it down.
Everything was too tight, too small. Blaine's eyes squeezed shut against the crisp night air that seeped through the crack in the window and tousled sweat-damp curls. The car stopped in front of their apartment a hell of a lot quicker than it should have taken to get home and Blaine couldn't get out fast enough; chest heaving and heart pounding as he staggered towards the ceiling high glass lobby doors.
"Blaine! You're going to get yourself killed." Christian's hands found Blaine's shoulders and held him upright.
"Maybe I want to die," he snapped back, wrenching himself out of Christian's hold and leaning heavily on the worn brass handles. "Not now. Please don't do this now. I need to breathe. Just go finish with the car, I'll be fine."
Blaine's fingers slipped on the handle of his nightstand drawer, upper body tumbling forward as his palms struck the carpet. He was half-twisted off the bed, legs tangled still in the thin sheets. His stomach gave a roll in protest, arms quivering under his body weight as he made no move to right himself.
There was a soft knock on the door, the tentative rap of knuckles sounding like gunshots. He made a grunt in the affirmative that cracked in his throat, vocal chords grinding together painfully. The door creaked open slowly and Christian took a step inside, eyes falling on Blaine's frame with unease.
"I was going to ask if you were okay, but I can see that you're not." His roommate chewed on his lip slowly, earthy green eyes sweeping the distance in carpet between them as if he were wondering whether or not he should come further.
"I'm fine." Blaine pushed himself up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress as he made a second attempt for the nightstand. He succeeded, tugging it open and glancing in at the contents with an expression that quickly turned sour. "Fucking fuck me."
"Blaine?" Christian was still standing in the doorway, fingers wringing together as he watched in silence.
"Nothing. Go to class. I have to go as well, apparently." He slid off the bed, sheet sinking down around his feet as he gave an experimental stretch, arms reaching above his head. Christian gave him another little dubious look before retreating, pulling the door closed with him as he went and leaving Blaine alone in the openness of his room.
The curly-haired man took a slow step, wincing as his entire body practically hissed in protest. A hot shower and coffee would help. It was the little things.
When he had finished cleaning up Christian was already gone, coffee machine still on and bread in the toaster. He cared too much. Blaine pushed down the lever, settling for dry toast and coffee as he continued to towel his hair. The contents that he drank the night before seemed to slosh in his head rather than stomach, the ache behind his eyes ever present as Blaine threw the used towel over the back of the dining room chair and leaned against the counter for support. He had been doing so good; everything had been going so well and then Kurt just had to come back and fuck everything up. What bothered Blaine the most is that he had practically wished it to happen. Wished to see him once more, to see if he was okay and successful and not hurting the way Blaine was. Be careful what you wish for.
He started as the toaster popped, forehead thunking against the cupboard door as he reached for his breakfast with sluggish fingers. And worst of all, he missed him. Missed the way his eyes lit up whenever he was being particularly passionate, missed the way he wrinkled his nose at something idiotic Blaine did, missed the way he held himself when people thought they could push him down, the way he tilted his chin up in pride because he wasn't scared of who he was and that was enough for him. Blaine missed their pitiful staring contests where they'd lean over Burt's dining room table and just gaze into each other's eyes and claim they were having a stare-down if Kurt's father ever questioned them when really they were just watching one another. He missed the way Kurt would whisper critiques on outfits during Project Runway while they were cuddled together on the couch under a blanket and it was really too hot but it didn't matter because they were together.
He missed Kurt's shy smile, missed the rosy colour that brushed across his cheeks, missed the way he looked up at Blaine from under his eyelashes and bit his lip when he thought he was being stupid but was actually being incredibly sexy. He missed it all and he fucking wanted it back.
Blaine pressed his fingertips against his temples, rubbing gentle circles as he headed towards the door, coffee forgotten. Shoelaces quickly became the most impossible thing, fingers slipping over the woven strands as he scowled down at the worn Converse, toast clenched between his teeth. Everything hated him, everything hated him and it was stupid.
Finally managing to don his footwear, Blaine grabbed his coat from the closet handle, the leather sliding over his shoulders making him feel just that much better. There was a sense of peace that came with his coat. He felt stronger, like the whole day wouldn't be so miserable. He feltpowerful.
School was absolutely ridiculous. Blaine didn't know why people willingly put money into some place where older people told you how to live your life and what to do. He slumped deeper into his seat at the back of the room, forehead falling forward to smack against the wood of his desk. It was useless. The only reason he even bothered to apply was because sometimes he got bored and his Grandfather insisted that he'd pay for anything and everything. And besides, it was a way to escape his father.
The teacher droned on about something relating to English, his monotonous voice clanging around the silent room like pots and pans introduced to an excited child. There was a little noise to his left that caused Blaine to roll his head against the table, eyes searching out the creator. They fell on a girl around his age, twenty-one or so, staring back at him. Her thin eyebrows were drawn together slightly, glasz eyes raking over his hunched frame with slight unease. What was her name? Melody? Mary? Melissa?
The look was unnerving. Her long fingers were woven together on her desk, wavy chestnut hair that was dip-dyed an electric blue falling over her shoulders. Blaine gave a little grunt in mock greeting, cheek squishing down against the wood with resignation. This just seemed to intrigue the girl further, pierced brow cocking as her eyes narrowed. Was she even going to fucking say anything or just stare at him?
"Are you okay?" No.
"Yeah, fine. Why?" The words were muffled, eyes closing by their own violation as the girl gave him a dubious look.
"Are you sure?" He cracked an eye to glare at her, hands balling into fists at his sides.
"Why the fuck do you care?" he hissed out between clenched teeth.
"Because Blaine, you look pretty fucked up; like no offense but you look like shit. And you haven't been here for a week or so and frankly I'm surprised that you haven't gotten kicked out." She looked utterly bored –an expression often worn by himself-, studying her painted black fingernails with disdain.
"One, how the fuck do you even know my name? And two, fuck you." He pushed himself upright once more, scowling down at the desk top. Who was she to judge him? Who was anybody to judge him? They didn't know him, they didn't know his life.
"I've sat beside you since September and Mr. Ellis pulls a tantrum when you aren't in class which is all the time so I don't know why he's still bitching." Blaine chanced a look at her, eyes flickering quickly over the way she held herself. It was the 'don't fuck with me' stance. She gave off an air of subtle badassery that he was surprised he didn't notice before; startlingly icy blue eyes rimmed with a thin black, nose ring glinting in the artificial light as she looked back at him again.
"What's your name?" Blaine's fingers gripped at the edge of the desk, narrowed eyes on the girl.
"Maeve. And before you ask, no you can't have my number because I don't want to be your buddy that helps you rob banks or go shoe shopping with you, whatever it is you gays do." She seemed to be amusing herself. At least one of them was having fun.
"I don't want your fucking number, Princess, but thank you," he snarled, grabbing his bag off the floor as the bell rang and starting towards the front of the class.
"Ah, Mr. Anderson. Finally deciding to show up for one of my lessons, I see." Blaine could have thrown up right there. The way Cameron Ellis wandered towards the door, silently eyeing the students as they slowly left the room. Maeve was the last to leave, giving Blaine a cheeky wiggle of her fingers as she slipped out of the classroom. The heavy wood door shut with a click, lock flicking shut behind it.
"I need more." Blaine leaned on the teacher's desk, head dropping back to look at the ceiling that was stained ungodly hues. How did that even get there?
"Blaine, you haven't shown up for my class in a week and you think you can just burst in one day and get whatever you want?" Cameron slowly made his way across the tile and Blaine couldn't help but relate it to a predator stalking its prey.
"Yes. Because you see, I have assault material. I could run to the school board right now and pull the innocent boy." He tilted his head back down to watch the teacher who'd froze in place as if contemplating Blaine's words. "I can see the headlines now; Cameron Ellis charged for sexual assault on one of his students." He couldn't help the sardonic smile that pulled its way across his lips as Cameron watched him silently.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, but I could. And that's what matters now, isn't it? So why don't you just give me what I'm here for and you'll get your payment. Easy transaction like always."
"How much do you need? And what am I getting as payment?" The older man's face quickly morphed into the smirk that Blaine was used to. He always assumed it was supposed to be attractive and sly and sexy when all it really did was make Cameron come off as a gassy baby. It was almost laughable. Almost.
"At least a week's worth. Actually no, I'd prefer a month or so. Considering I'm not a daily user to begin with. I want my money's worth, to say the least." Blaine watched his teacher with careful eyes, following the way the line of his mouth seemed to widen in success with barely contained disgust. "Payment is your choice. Anything within the guidelines we specified."
Cameron seemed to contemplate the offer, pausing a few feet from Blaine as he cast his eyes to the ceiling the same way Blaine had not long before. "I have been wanting a blowjob for quite some time. My wife has a terrible gag-reflex and doesn't like giving head and if I'll be honest, you've the best mouth I've ever had the pleasure-" the way the word rolled off his tongue was almost enough to make Blaine gag "- of experiencing."
"It's all yours. Just give me what I came here for first and we'll get down to business. Same as always." Blaine slid off the edge of the wooden desk, moving to lean against the chalkboard as Cameron began rummaging through drawers. It was honestly a surprise he hadn't been caught yet. It wasn't like N.Y.U was low maintenance. He was presented a small black cloth bag, zipped at the top with a tag attached to the metal that had Blaine's name on it. Always prepared. The look Cameron gave him as Blaine tucked the sack in with his own stuff was positively revolting; fingers thumbing open the button of his slacks and eyes darkened with lust. Fuck.
Blaine's jaw ached, which was really saying something because he'd given his share of blowjobs and he was proud of the way he was never in pain afterwards. He almost felt like crying. They'd shared a lot of intimacies since Cameron became Blaine's drug dealer and the curly haired man had never felt as distraught as he did now; even after the first time he hadn't been this upset.
The halls of the school weren't empty, they never were, but it was about as clear as they'd get for the day until nightfall. The sound of Blaine's battered Converse echoed around the corridor as he strode with purpose toward the exit. His mouth tasted sour; salt and skin and other ungodly flavours twining themselves together over his taste buds as if it was supposed to be a reward. It wasn't. His fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack that swung from one shoulder as he tried his hardest not to throw himself down the few stairs to the door.
The air was crisp and cold already, grey-brown clouds covering the city as a few delicate snowflakes made their way past the stretching claws of the skyscrapers. It was three, maybe four o'clock and the people bustling by on the sidewalk didn't even cast him a second glance.
Sometimes Blaine wished he lived within walking distance. The subway was such a disgusting thing; garbage strewn across the platforms where people hadn't even tried to make it to the bin, trains that smelled like dirt and regret.
The apartment was warm when Blaine pushed open the door, Christian's quiet singing echoing from the kitchen. Blaine had put a stereo on one of the shelves, claiming that all meals needed music in order to make them better, because of course, people felt good when they listened to music. Christian had rolled his eyes and brushed it off and ignored the device as if it weren't there. Though there were a few times when Blaine had come back around dinner time –like so- to the quiet speakers working their magic as his roommate prepared dinner. The first time it happened, Blaine leaned against the doorway and grinned ear-to-ear until Christian noticed his presence and scrambled to silence the music, claiming it was on to stave off his loneliness. Now, the teasing didn't go further than Blaine giving a little tilt of his head in the direction of the radio and a scowl from Christian.
The shoebox that they called their home smelled of spaghetti and Christian poked his head around the divider to give Blaine a curious look. "Welcome back." His voice was quiet, barely masked inquiry riddling his tone.
Blaine glanced up from where he was toeing off his shoes, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth that he wouldn't be able to explain if he tried. "Hey."
The slightly taller man gave him a grin, disappearing behind the wall to return to the stove. "How was school?"
Blaine wandered to the kitchen –if it could even be called that- and slumped into one of the island stools. "It was school. There isn't anything exciting about school."
"That's a total lie. School can be fun. There are people to meet and things to learn and-"
"Christian."
"I know, I'm sorry. I just wish you could be happy sometimes. I know you don't think that you deserve it but, dare I say it, you're actually a pretty awesome guy." Christian threw him a glance over his shoulder while stirring the sauce-meatball concoction.
"Thanks." Suddenly the marble became the most interesting thing in the world.
"Blaine?" He glanced up at his friend as Christian began straining the pasta, holding it away from his body to avoid the steam with a face that resembled disgust. Why hot water was disgusting was beyond Blaine.
"Yeah?"
"I want to ask you something but I don't want you to like... freak out or run away or tear me a new one."
"It sounds serious, then. That means you should probably wait for a more opportune time to ask rather than when the stove is covered with hot things that would work marvellously as burning material." Christian looked horrified, setting the pot back on the now turned off burner with widened eyes that he cast in Blaine's direction. "I'm totally kidding. Believe it or not I think I actually like you." The last sentence was mumbled as Blaine stared back at the tabletop, fingers twisted together in his lap as he avoided Christian's eyes.
"I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Christian cooed, bringing a palm to his heart and letting out a light sigh that was totally mocking.
"I'll fucking take it back, you asshole." His roommate gave a little chuckle, fishing in the cupboard for plates before scooping each of them suitable portions. Christian sat at the island beside him, sliding the porcelain across the stone and gaining a mumbled 'thanks'.
"So, can I ask or are you going to throw your dinner in my face because I'd really rather you didn't. I worked hard on that and this shirt cost a lot more than I'll ever admit." Blaine raised his head to look at Christian, mouth full of pasta threatening to overflow. He gave a small nod in the affirmative before dropping his gaze back to the food set before him. "What happened last night?"
Blaine almost choked, giving a feeble cough that did nothing but make things worse. Christian's hand was at his back, rubbing and patting over his shoulders as Blaine struggled to swallow his mouthful. Finally managing to empty his mouth he grabbed for the glass of water that sat before him, courtesy of Christian's thorough dinner preparations. After downing a surprising amount of the liquid, Blaine looked back up at his roommate.
"I saw him."