Hello again everyone! This chapter is kind of just a filler, with musings from both our favourite boys. It's split up by location, so if it says "Dalton" then you know it's Kurt, and if it's "The Anderson Household" then it's going to be Blaine. Enjoy.

Chapter 10

Seperation

Dalton

It had been three days. Three days since Kurt had left the house of the Andersons, with Blaine lying unconscious on the floor, red blood a stark contrast against the white tile floor. Three days since Kurt had gotten a wink of sleep.

Well, that may be a lie. Kurt had slept. It had only been for a couple of hours, and he had suffered the most horrific and vivid nightmares that he had been unable to sleep since. Dark images full of yelling and screaming and pushing and slapping and white tiles stained red. So that's why he didn't really count it as sleep, because it was more draining than refreshing.

In his classes, Kurt couldn't concentrate. He'd been scolded on numerous occasions for not knowing the answer to a teacher's question, or staring out the window when he should have been paying attention to some other thing that he couldn't care less about at this point in time. When he should have been taking down notes, he was drawing little pictures of him and Blaine, together. Little pictures that made his heart ache with a longing so strong it felt as though his chest was being torn apart over and over again so that eventually there'd be nothing left but an empty space where his heart should be.

Each time he got back to his dorm, he'd walk past the empty, untouched side of the room that belonged to his boyfriend, and he'd cut out every single one of his little pictures. He'd stick them on the roof above his bed and he would lay there for hours just staring at them, losing himself in sorrow and despair. Whenever he wasn't doing that he would be staring at his phone, waiting for some sort of reply from Blaine. He had sent him hundreds of messages and called him who knows how many times. Blaine had never replied. Every once in a while he would hear the familiar sound of his message tone from across the room and he would tear his eyes away from his roof, sprint to his desk and then try not to break down again when he discovers that it's only Wes or David, asking if he wanted to talk and if he had seen Blaine and Kurt what's wrong? Kurt never replied to them.

He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't think he could. And how would they be able to help anyway? No, he wasn't going to talk to them, he didn't want to burden them with more problems when they were already buried under a mountain of work and trying to deal with the stress of school. For now Kurt was simply trying to deal with the fact that he didn't know how Blaine was. He didn't know if he was still at his parent's house and he didn't know how Blaine felt about the fact that Kurt had left him there, alone, with his parents.

Blaine's parents were completely and utterly insane, Kurt had decided. He had simply imagined them to be overprotective and maybe a little annoying, but nothing that couldn't be dealt with. Nothing out of the ordinary for a pair of concerned parents. He had imagined that Blaine may have been overreacting a little, and they really weren't that bad. Blaine, in fact, had been under-reacting, and whether he knew it or not was beside the point. The Andersons were crazy.

Kurt was still trying to figure out how a couple of people could be so…he didn't even know the word for it. He didn't understand them at all. Blaine was their son! How could they act like that to their own son? Did Blaine think that was normal? Kurt now understood why Blaine spent as much time as he could at Dalton, Kurt would do the same if his parents were that intolerable. Still, he couldn't wrap his head around how completely mental they appeared to be.

The Anderson Household

It had been three days. Three days since Blaine woke up in his bed. Three days since he had been outside of his room. Three days since he had last seen Kurt, crying and stumbling to get away from his parents.

His parents.

That's why he was here. That's why he had a pounding in his head and an ache in his chest and anger so powerful that he couldn't even think straight. His parents had gone too far this time. They had crossed some sort of boundary, some sort of line and now, well, now they'd done some real damage. If it had only been him, if Kurt hadn't been involved, maybe things would be okay. If Blaine hadn't made Kurt come with him maybe everything would be fine and they'd be in their dorm room, doing their homework and teasing each other so that one of them would pretend to be offended and the other would try to make it up to them by pressing sweet, innocent kisses along any expanse of exposed skin.

If only.

Instead Blaine was stuck in his room, not knowing when he would be able to leave and not knowing if Kurt even got back to Dalton safely. Had Kurt given up on him? Was it all too much? Did Kurt think that it was too risky too stay with Blaine. Of course, he wouldn't blame him. Kurt had finally witnessed the awful truth, and there was no forgetting that.

Blaine's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his door and mentally groaned when his mother entered his room. She didn't ask permission.

"Blaine, dear, I brought you in some lunch," She said pleasantly.

"Not hungry," Blaine replied begrudgingly.

It wasn't entirely true, he was rather hungry, but it made him feel sick to think of eating anything from the hand that had probably bruised Kurt's perfectly beautiful face. So he refused to take the food.

"Sweetie," Blaine cringed at the endearment, "You need to stop thinking about that other boy. He's gone now. Do you think he would have left if he really cared about you?"

He just fixed his mother with icy glare, not gracing that horribly false sentence with a reply.

"It's better that he's gone anyway," his mother continued, "Now you can just focus on getting better."

"Mum, how many times do I have to say it? I. Am. Fine."

"No sweetie, you aren't. I know what's best for you. That boy—"

"His name is Kurt."

"I don't care. Was he telling you that you were okay? Because you aren't. That boy lied to you Blaine."

"He didn't lie! He helped me. He cares about me, which is more than I can say for you."

"How dare you. Who do you think pays for all your medicine? Hmm? Who do you think makes sure that you have the things you need to stay alive? If it weren't for your father and I, you'd be dead."

"Maybe then you'd be happy!" Blaine yelled suddenly, tears beginning to break free and mark their glistening tracks on his flushed face, "Maybe then, you would have everything you've ever wanted. You'd be able to go back to your old life. I'm sure that if you had the choice, you'd trade me to get all your money back. Wouldn't you?"

Mrs. Anderson didn't deny it.

After she had left the room, Blaine broke down. He sobbed uncontrollably, storming around his room and punching his walls. He banged hard on his door over and over and over again. No one answered. He threw his bottle of pills across the room where it hit the wall and rebounded onto Blaine's bed, vanishing somewhere in the sheets. Blaine came to a halt in the middle of his room after failing to open his locked door. He needed to call Kurt, but where was his phone?

He turned his room upside down looking for it. He rummaged all through his desk, tipping the contents of his drawers on his floor. He stripped his bed in the hope of finding it lost between the sheets, but he only found his medication, a cruel reminder of the reality of his life. He scoured the floor, rifled through clothes and shoes and even faced the dark, cobwebbed space under his bed, but to no avail.

"Mum, Dad, where is my phone?" He yelled as loud as he could manage, forehead resting against his locked door.

There was no answer.

"Where is it?" He yelled again.

No answer.

Blaine was so desperate, he was just staring at the door handle, willing it to unlock.

"Please, please, please, please, please…" He was chanting to himself.

Blaine was one of those people who could only be kept in a confined space for a short amount of time. He was like a puppy, he needed to get out and explore and play and laugh and have fun. If you kept him cooped up, well, it was very hard for him to handle. I mean, it had been three days and he was already trying to magic himself out of the room.

That night Blaine dreamt of Kurt while Kurt was sticking yet more pictures on his roof. Kurt vowed to invest in a good camera, while Blaine slept. He dreamt of them holding hands and eating ice-cream and watching a sunset. Blaine would rest his head on Kurt's shoulder while Kurt played with his curls and then Blaine would raise his head a little so Kurt would look at him with those eyes of his that took Blaine's breath away every single time and Blaine would smile and Kurt would smile back. They'd share a kiss that would warm each of them to the core and nothing else in the world would ever matter to them. Because, in that moment, everything would be perfect. And even if one day they no longer had each other, they'd always have that memory.

Blaine promised himself that one day, that dream would become reality.

TBC

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