Chapter 10

Blaine didn't show up for school on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or for the rest of the week. Everyone from Glee club kept coming up to Kurt, asking him what happened and where Blaine was, but Kurt simply shrugged them off saying that he didn't know and he didn't care. But as it became the weekend and it had been almost 10 days since he'd last heard from Blaine, or since anyone had last heard from Blaine for that matter, Kurt had to admit that he was genuinely pretty worried. It was Saturday night when he almost considered calling the boy, when he received an incoming call from Noah Puckerman.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Noah?" Kurt answered, trying to sound like his usual calm and collected self, not wanting Puck to know the emotional toll this whole ordeal with Blaine was taking on him.

"Kurt, I know it's late, but I had to call you," Puck started. The background noise was loud, with music playing and lots of people screaming and yelling at each other. "He won't listen to me, man! But he'll listen to you!"

Kurt was so confused. "He? Who's he? And why would he need to listen to me about anything? Where are you, Noah?"

"Blaine, bro!" Kurt's breath hitched inside his throat. Puck had found him? "He's at this party I'm at, and he's a complete mess, Kurt. I think…I think he might do something really, really bad."

Blaine was a wreck. After Kurt left that day, his life spiraled downhill so quickly, it was almost impossible for him to recall what it was like to be happy. He barely slept for days. He stopped going to school altogether. What was the point? Graduating, going to college, making something of himself; that was all for Kurt. But now Kurt didn't care. So Blaine didn't either.

After spending the weekday sulking, crying himself to sleep, and attempting to think of ways in which he could possibly win back Kurt's affections, the weekend hit. And with that, came a call from Wes.

"Hello?"

"Anderson!" Wes greeted in an overly cheerful way that made Blaine's heartbroken self wince in pain. "What the fuck's up man?"

"Nothing much," Blaine mumbled, knowing better than to go into detail about his personal life with Wes.

"So I'm assuming your free tonight, right?"

Blaine sighed. Of course he was free tonight. He was free every night. Aside from being his boyfriend, Kurt was the only friend Blaine had. And now he'd lost that, too.

"Why?" he asked.

"'Cause there's gonna be this crazy party tonight out west. Gonna be a total rager. You down or what?"

Blaine paused for a moment. If he had been happy with his life, he'd have said no. If he had still cared about keeping his life on the right track, he'd have said no. Basically, if he was still with Kurt, he'd have said no.

But Kurt didn't want Blaine anymore. Blaine had nothing to care about anymore.

"Yeah man, I'm in."

The party was insane. There were too many kegs to count, multiple bottles of vodka, rum, and whatever other type of liquor anyone could get a hold of was sitting lined up for miles on the dining room table of this poor kid's house (who's house it was, Blaine had no idea), red cups were strew everywhere, glasses were broken, chairs were flipped upside down, and bedrooms were occupied with couples left and right. It was the most chaotic show of teenage anarchy Blaine had ever witnessed in his life. Had it been about a year ago, Blaine would have been having the time of his life here and would have owned this party. But instead, all he could do was miserable stare into his third cup of vodka and whatever else Wes had mixed it with. He had no idea. All he knew was that it tasted like pure acetone, but he didn't care. He just clung to the hope that maybe he could drink his pain away with whatever vile concoction this was. However, this wasn't the case. If anything, the alcohol was only amplifying ever negative feeling in his body.

"Damn, Blaine, stop being such a fucking downer," Wes yelled over the obscenely loud music. "I put more vodka in there than mixer, how are you still not drunk-happy?"

"Seems to me like he needs a little something extra."

Both boys turned their heads to face the direction where the voice had come from. A tall, older looking guy with curly brown hair and a hard, intense look in his nearly-black eyes—whether it was from dilated pupils or just the fact that his eyes were really that dark, Blaine didn't know—sauntered over there with his hands in his pockets.

"Seems to me like you need a little some of this." The mystery guy took out a small bag filled with beige looking powder. Blaine's eyes widened a little as he realized what it was.

"Is that heroin, bro?" Wes asked with a little tone of alarm in his voice, yet his eyes showed his immediate interest.

"You know it," smiled mystery guy. "Just the pick-me up for your little overly depressed friend over here." He motioned towards Blaine. "So what do you say, fellas? I got clean needles for everyone."

Wes immediately agreed and followed mystery guy up the stairs. Blaine wasn't really surprised by that. Wes was always one to try pretty much anything. But Blaine never thought he'd be that type. Sure, he loved drinking. And stealing things. And vandalism. But hard drugs? That wasn't really his deal. At least, he didn't think so. Yet he still found himself follow Wes and their new drug-dealing friend up the stairs to an empty room. He began to prepare the powder into a needle for himself and shot up. Taking a second to let the effect rush over him, he gave a huge smile as his eyes intensified even more as he began to prepare Wes's syringe. Wes shot up, too, letting the euphoria of the new drug sweep over him as well.

"Blaine, man, you've gotta try this shit! I feel fucking unreal!"

Mystery Guy was just preparing Blaine's syringe as two figures burst into the room. There was a blonde girl giggling, obviously wasted, attached to the lips of a tall, mohawked boy Blaine recognized as Kurt's friend Puck.

"Whoops! Sorry to….Blaine?" Puck's eyes fixed themselves onto Blaine's almost as if to reassure himself that it was him, then they swept the room, and a panic grew in his face. "Bro, what…is that heroin?"

"And fucking good heroin at that!" Wes chimed in.

Puck began to panic a little. Sure, he was a partyer, but he knew just like any other sane human that hard core drugs like heroin wasn't "just partying." That shit fucked you up big time. And if you took too much, especially on your first time? That shit could fucking kill you.

"Blaine, bro…don't do this. This stuff could really screw you up, man."

"Here you go, Blainey," Mystery Guy said, handing Blaine a full syringe. "It's a big hit, but I think you can handle it."

Blaine took the syringe from him, holding it hesitantly in his hand.

"Seriously Blaine, you could die. Please don't do this." Puck pleaded with him. That was nice. Puck seemed to be concerned for him. But that doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Because Kurt doesn't care about him.

Blaine barely even noticed that Puck ran out of the room, as Blaine began to roll up his shirt sleeve. He held the needle to the vein in his arm, ready to pierce the skin.

Without Kurt, I have nothing. Without Kurt, I am nothing.

And with that, Blaine injected. With that, everything went black.