This is the first one-shot where I've incorporated an argument, so there will be literally no fluff (awk), but there is an angsty!Blaine and a partiallydrunk!Kurt. It took me a while to think of a storyline for this song, but I think I did okay. I hope so, anyway. xD
It's set in the future - Kurt and Blaine are sharing an Apartment and are just out of Uni/College/Some type of higher education. Yep.

Title: Romance Is...
Rating: T (for swearing. Don't you love arguments?)
Summary: "We were invincible; we were unique; we were amazing... but all good things must come to an end."

A Few of my Favourite Things
iv.

== x ==

There's no explanation or forewarning underneath,
All the crimson linings.
We approach the streets with a clear conscience;
We'll survive.
Let it all fall down, let it all fall down...

It's one way to afford a horizon, and not to mention;
It's one way to say we're abandoned,
And we don't belong here at all.

And romance just is...

== x ==

What do you do when the one you love is killing you?

Not literally, of course. Figuratively. But they might as well be. At the start, everything was fine - all smiles and glances and laughter - and we felt like nothing could stop us. We weren't romantically involved, per se, but it felt like it. We would ignore the insults thrown at us by condescending idiots, laugh it off like they were just words and continue walking down the street like we could change the world. We would roam the hallways with our heads held high and clutching to each other in a way that had people second guessing our friendship 'status'. We were convinced that nothing could hold us back - no guys to pull us to a stop; no heartache to rip us apart; no flames to leave us scarred. We were everything that everyone wanted... We were invincible; we were unique; we were amazing.

But all good things must come to an end.

It was the note that ticked you off to where he would be - left on the coffee table in the apartment you both shared with a simple "Gone out, be back soon :) x" and your face turns red with rage. He promised he would stop doing this to himself, he promised, but it seems that since his father's death he's a creature that can't be tamed. You glance at the clock, noticing the time - 9:13pm. He won't be home for another three hours, at least, and after an internal debate with yourself, you think fuck it and run out the door.

The walk is brisk, the winter air slapping your rouging cheeks as blood rushes to the surface in retaliation and anger. The only sounds you can hear are the cars screaming past you, your shoes squeaking in protest at the speed you're walking at and your heart as it beats at what feels like a thousand miles an hour. You ignore the people on the streets, your blurred vision only searching for one place, and as you spot the oh-so-familiar underground nightclub your pace hastens and you're practically sprinting towards the bouncer at the door. You only need to say his name, tone rushed and defeated (yet somewhat enraged) and he allows you in. Mumbling a 'thank you', you slip through the door and you become immediately engulfed in a sea of bodies, booze and body odour, the reminder of why you hate this place oozing from every pore as you storm towards the bar.

Although the lights are dim and there are people everywhere, you still manage to find your target - the porcelain boy you love(d) with all your heart downing drinks like there was no tomorrow as some good-for-nothing blond surfer-type of guy is whispering sweet nothings into his ear. You watch as he throws his head back in laughter, another drink being thrown down his throat and you're unsure if it's the lights causing your vision to become tainted a fading burgundy or the sight before you. Striding purposefully towards the once innocent countertenor, you're prepared to drag him away from this stupid, idiotic, moronic place, but just as you reach your destination you witness the guy's tongue plunging willfully into his mouth and you can feel the bile rising up in your throat at the sight.

That's when your vision turns a vivacious red.

Before you know it, you've grabbed your friend by the arm, grip tightening as he tries to stay put and your palms become slick with sweat, and you're halfway out of the place before he stops you.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, slightly tipsy and unaware of his surroundings. You resist the urge to shake him, instead moving to grab his shaking hand. He removes it, opting to run it over his face, which is all pouting lips and flushed cheeks and glassy eyes and you wonder what the hell has he done to himself?

You're trying to talk him into leaving, but he won't listen to a goddamn thing you're trying to tell him, and in the end you're just yelling at him, words and thoughts and opinions pouring out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself.

"You know what? I'm sick of your games, Kurt. Do you even remember who you used to be before... this phase of yours? No, of course you don't. I used to look up to you - back when we first met. You were so fucking proud of yourself, and you always stood up for what you believed in, and I always wanted to be like that. But now you're this... thing. Someone I don't even know anymore. Why are you doing this for yourself?"

The music pulsates around you and it feeds your adrenaline. The object of your affection blinks at you, the buzz of the alcohol dulling his eyes until it's a dim grey as the answer to your question stumbles out of him. "I need... I need to cope, Blaine, and nothing is helping me, I needed someo - something to turn to - "

The laugh that escapes you sounds psychotic, and it chills you to the bone. You know you should stop before you say something you really regret, but at his response you become an unstoppable force and you're screaming at him.

"Stop, just stop. Stop right there. You needed some - I can't believe I'm actually hearing this. I was there the entire fucking time - "

You're cut off by him retaliating your statement. "You stopped caring after two weeks, Blaine, what was I supposed to - "

"Because you said you would be alright! I asked you, and you said that everything would be okay, but look at us - look at you! Don't fucking interrupt me, Hummel. You promised me that you would stop this shit, because it is ruining everything - "

"I said that because I hoped that you would understand that nothing was okay, that I was falling apart inside, and I would need you to fix me - I thought you knew me enough to know what I was feeling!" A pause. "It looks like I was wrong."

Your head is pounding, the music not helping in the slightest, and you just want to get the hell out of here, but your heart and mind are not thinking the same thing. Taking two steps forward, you look straight into his glasz eyes and your emotions take over.

"The Kurt I knew would rather die than be seen in a place like this. The Kurt I knew would sing when he was feeling down instead of resorting to these idiotic methods. The Kurt I knew would rather be talking to his friends instead of allowing stranger's tongues down his throat." You take a deep breath, lowering your voice down a few octaves before you speak again. "The Kurt I know now? He's no longer the Kurt I knew; the Kurt that I was in love with." You take a step back, noticing the emotions in his eyes ranging between furious and overwhelmed and your voice goes back to its previous pitch. "If your father were alive, he would be thinking the same things I'm saying. He would be disgusted at your behavior. More importantly," you're spitting venomously in his face as he digests what you're telling him, "he would be disgusted at you."

As you watch tears fall from his eyes and crawl down his cheeks, you realise that this lover's tiff has gone too far. He shakes his head, sobs exploding and choking out from his small frame, and all you want to do it envelope him in an embrace and apologise, but before you can apologise he's slamming into your shoulder and running into the crowd.

You stand on the spot as the haze fades from your eyes and your mind becomes clear, and as you recall the events that took place, all you want to do is crumple to the ground and forget everything that happened. Your stomach feels as though it's hit the floor as you realise that he's gone, and the possibility of him returning is particularly slim. Anxiety builds up inside as it hits you like the force of a twelve tonne truck.

You realise that he's gone and he's never coming back.

== x ==

Slow it all down, the damage is done;
Play the music loud, don't make a sound.
Lets raise a toast to a sad story, and a dirty cup, and a dirty cup -
You made it, you made it hurt, so bad,
You made it hurt, so bad.

{Romance Is... (Acoustic Version) - Lights
"Acoustic - EP", 2010}

Oh my word. I think I enjoyed writing the ~argument~ a bit too much. I'm thinking of having a second part to this later on in the collection. I have a certain song in mind. xD
Thoughts? c:

I've been updating this pretty fast lately, but the next one might take a while. I'll try to get it up before my school's trip to London this weekend. :3

Next: Starry Eyed - You Me At Six