i'm going to warn you beforehand of suicide. it is covered. nearing the end obviously. anyway...

to vairetwilight and mizmarie, we're going canon for some part of it. so far, of what i've written of it, it's going through a very Kurtbastian-ish route instead. it is probably going to end up with a Kurtbastian endgame. mostly because it's my OTP.

#38 – From Kurt, to Blaine – Part 3, Take II

Dear Gatsby,

Things have been strange between us now ever since you realised that there was a Tom in my life. Tom's obsessive, controlling and is convinced that he needs me. I don't know if he does, but all I know is that my life feels empty without the both of you around. His eyes are green, green as the light on the dock. No. Greener than the light at the dock—and green is the colour of sadness, the blue, and the colour of happiness, the yellow. It's confusing. It's different, but then again, so is Tom. Tom's always been different.

Tom thinks that you seem to have so much that you don't need me around. Most days, I won't lie, I believe him. You always act so mighty, Gatsby. The war is at the back of your mind, isn't it? It's not the war that's scarring you, it's the letters we once wrote and shared and the distance between us now and what we had been. I can tell that things are different now ever since you've met Tom. I wonder what you'd say now…you think that Tom and I have never seen each other, loathe each other, but in reality, there's an undeniable lust that is forged between us, something that is just as deep as we'd been before. It's not as tangible as a few letters and the gifts you'd bombard me with as I stood by my house, staring down at yours.

You always threw those parties. You always gave those gifts. Always tried to live by a fantasy. Could I blame Tom for thinking that you've had it all? You're coddling the world with a glee you supposedly have. You're not that man that went into war, you're something more—or maybe something less. I can't tell yet. What is that mask you wear and what's it supposed to hide? What's that smile you wear and what's it supposed to show? I wonder what runs into your mind sometimes. Fables maybe, or facts. Perhaps, the both. My guess is that it's all fable, wrecked fairytales and lies that were fed to you that you still believe.

Maybe that's the reason why you're so enticing—your innocence. Or maybe I've just been fooled and you're not innocent at all. Perhaps, we'd never know.

"Kurt!"

Kurt nearly cursed under his breath, looking back to see Charlie by the doorway. He was wearing another one of his absurd, disturbing jerseys. His pants actually fit him this time around. "Yes, Charlie?"

Charlie snorted. "I want to use the room. I have some friends coming over."

"Lady friends?" Kurt asked, looking back at the scarlet letter. Perhaps, we'll know soon. He capped back the pen and shoved his unfinished letter in the drawer just below his desk. "Charlie—"

"No," Charlie's eyes were darkening. "Not lady friends."

Kurt caught on very quickly when he noticed Charlie's awkwardness. "You're bringing drug addicts into my room?" he called out, his voice high.

"It's my room too," Charlie expressed.

Kurt noticed Charlie didn't deny the 'drug addicts' statement. He just stood up and left the room, knowing that he and Charlie quarreling was not something that would add to Kurt's mood. He didn't know how he felt – he felt like he felt fine but something was off, something was wrong and Kurt didn't know what but something was definitely off.

Charlie had locked the door afterwards. Good thing Kurt had already dressed for his night out with Blaine and Sebastian. A part of him told him not to go and to feign sick but another stronger part of him wanted to get involved in the stupidity Kurt knew would lie ahead.

That night, Gatsby, you weren't looking for any light. You were looking for the acid that was alcohol, burning into your bones and taking away all logic from your mind. Your mind was empty then, thoughtless, but still heavy with thoughts. You weren't yourself. You were someone else, and that someone else was not one I wanted to accompany. I had suspected that Tom had drugged you somehow because you seemed to be more so out of it than usual. Tom danced with you, but then again, he danced with me too. I felt his breath on my neck. I was enticed. He was too and I could tell. You were off in your own little world, skipping on rocks and hopping with rabbits.

Tom didn't drink too much. I think he was hoping to make you look like a fool and himself a king. After I tried to take you home, we fought and we fought and we fought and after that, you decided to walk home on your own. I wanted to go after you but it was pure anger – childish rage – that made me stay where I was. I never told you what happened next, because now, you were gone and Tom was still there, proud and mighty, cocky and happy with himself.

After Blaine had left, Kurt felt a huge hole in his chest from where he stood but then he felt angry. He wanted to drive to Blaine and tell him to come back and to stop acting like a child but at the same time, he wanted to let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do. Kurt had taken a deep breath, turning to his car and just about to go home when he heard the last voice he'd wanted to hear in that moment.

"I guess your boyfriend left you," Kurt heard Sebastian sneer.

"Get away from me," Kurt said after some time, brewing with hatred. "I won't touch you. I wouldn't touch you if you're the last being on the Earth."

Sebastian laughed. It was the kind of laugh that send shivers in Kurt's bones. "I don't believe you," he finally said, moving towards Kurt as he stared at him for some time. "Kurt, all my fucking life I've had people tell me they hate me and that they wouldn't touch me if they were fucking paid to touch me. You know what I've learned from the past few years?"

Kurt snorted, shrugging his shoulders. "That everyone wants you to punch your face in?" he was being cruel and he didn't even care.

Sebastian laughed instead of being offended, shaking his head. "No," he was smiling as he moved closer to Kurt. Kurt felt the warmth that came when two bodies came closer and closer to one another. It was a cold night, the kind of coldness that sat in his blood and made it run slow. "I've learned that there are some people that meant it when they say they hate me and some people that don't."

Sebastian's eyes were locked with Kurt's. "You don't, Hummel," Sebastian snorted. "You can't hate me," he looked elated at the fact.

"I…" Kurt wanted to deny it but he knew that Sebastian was right.

Sebastian was smirking at Kurt. "So, what kind of game are we playing? Pretending that we hate each other in front of Blaine?" he snorted, shaking his head. "Are we children, Kurt?"

"Perhaps," Kurt murmured, walking towards Sebastian and staring at him straight in the eye. They were only inches apart from one another right now.

"I want to kiss you," Sebastian said after some time, eyes on Kurt's lips. "I'd do anything to kiss you."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Then why don't you?" it was an honest question.

Sebastian snorted. "Because I didn't ask for your permission and if I do, you'd say no," he said, and Kurt was mildly pleased with that answer. "I'll see you in the Lima Bean this week. If Blaine's around, I'll make sure to show him how much we hate each other," he winked at Kurt before he left.

Kurt thought that the weekend would mark the end of a mediocre week and a start of an average one without much quarrelling or pain but he had been completely and utterly long.

From the start of the week to the end, Kurt had been feeling low. It was coupled with the fact that Santana was picking on Finn's frame, as if he'd not lost a pound of weight and was continuously gaining weight. As a result, Finn was slouched over the toilet all the time, puking out his insides and making a mess of things. His eating habits were out of control. There were obvious weight fluctuations – he gained weight and lost it, lost more and gained it all back but his eating itself was wearing him out.

He heard from Coach Beiste herself that she didn't know what in hell's name was wrong with Finn but if he didn't shape up, he might miss his chances at a football scholarship. Kurt had confronted him about it, which only ended up in yelling and crying – the crying mostly on Kurt's part and the yelling on Finn's part. Kurt wanted to hurt him sometimes, but at the same time, he couldn't hate him for it.

It escalated to its worst point when Finn had started to insult Kurt by bringing up the past and Burt actually slammed Finn to the wall because he'd been acting up so badly. Charlie's eyes were wide and even he'd checked up on how Kurt was feeling. Kurt was feeling horrible. In fact, Kurt wanted to tear off Finn's skin from his body. The things that Finn had told him were still swimming in his mind. He'd brought up Kurt's suicide attempt, his cutting, and his depression all in a few sentences that made Kurt's blood go cold.

Finn was simply out of control.

After that night, Kurt hadn't really been talking to Finn—then again, Finn really wasn't talking to him or anyone else really. Kurt did feel bad for Finn, but at the same time, he had never been able to handle his anger for when someone made him feel horrible. Finn brought all of those things to hurt Kurt, and Kurt didn't like the knowledge that someone wanted to hurt him. It made him feel like an unloved person, even though Kurt knew why Finn said what he said.

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. He just wasn't going to say anything about it anymore.

Tom and I had an exchange that night, one that I wouldn't forgot but then again, I never truly forgot a thing. Memories are like pictures to me, they come just as sharp – no vagueness, nothing. I suppose my memory could be a gift thing. I've always wondered if it was a good gift or a bad one considering that some memories stunned me into a silence brought by beauty and another stunned me into a silence brought by sheer horror. What if I'd forgotten all these years?

I had a man tell me to refrain from asking myself 'what if' because it's a waste of time. I've not practiced that well enough I suppose. My mind is full of trying to understand what I've gained, what I've lost, what lies ahead of me – some tell me to stay in the present, in the little box of possibilities that I have now because they are possibilities that you know that you can attain. Perhaps, they're right. Perhaps, they're wrong. A big part of me thinks that there is no right or wrong to how one looks at the present, past, or future—just that it is "their" perspective and needs to be respected as such. My mind is wandering again. I'm thinking of things that don't matter, or perhaps, they do. I'm running in contradictions and thinking about thinking itself.

I sometimes wonder how you could find someone like me enticing. Whatever 'like me' is—sorry about the speculations in this letter that don't really need to be there or make as much sense as I want them too. Do you know when I write these letters, I rarely think about what I write? I just pick up the pen and the ink writes for me. I don't think about the words. They write themselves, speaking to me. It's a strange and wonderful thing all together, isn't it? You're a strange and wonderful thing, aren't you, Gatsby?

Let me tell you about a story, Gatsby. My stepbrother had outed a girl today. After that, he'd gone back to what he was – somehow as a frail as a feather whilst being as strong as steel itself. He'd grown awkward and weary afterwards, and he'd stopped puking but he'd also stopped eating as well. It seemed as if it had been a long time since I've seen him consume more than the lies that he was fed and the pain that came with the stark realisation of the impact that he'd imposed. He'd apologised to me then and I accepted his apology in all seriousness. I'd come occur very few genuine apologies in my life but that was one of them right there, in all its lovely glory.

He's starting to draw away from me. You are too in some strange way. I think that you're both facing demons – I think they're demons that you believe that nobody else could see or understand.

I am always there to listen. You are never alone, Gatsby, even on your loneliest days – the wind accompanies you in your solitude, your beating heart, the earth still moves and if the earth is still moving, you can't be alone. It just isn't possible. That's one of the things that make me smile the most is to realise that the word "alone" is a myth, a myth created by a feeling that is false. You can conquer the world once you conquer that feeling. And when you do, I'd be standing by my door step as you run towards my house. You'd reach the green light at the dock and meet me with a kiss, may it be chaste or passionate.

And then all would be well, just because it has to be.

Love,

Daisy.

Kurt was in the Lima Bean when Blaine had dropped by. Blaine looked slightly more vibrant than he had in the whole week. The vibrancy was lost when Blaine started to complain about Finn. All Kurt could do was sit and nod because after all, Blaine wasn't completely wrong. Sebastian had come by, pretending in his coy manner that he was interested in Blaine whilst the ravenette sat there. It really was a game as far as Kurt was concerned. With Blaine's presence off but still in earshot, they'd thrown around smarmy remarks that didn't really mean a thing. Kurt could see that Sebastian was completely and utterly dazed – seemingly by Blaine but Kurt knew it was by him.

When Blaine had come back with his coffee, they'd transitioned again to being mock friendly. Kurt was honestly having fun, because Blaine couldn't tell at all that there was something to them. Blaine couldn't tell that Sebastian seemed to only have eyes for Kurt at the moment.

It happened frequently now.

Sebastian would stumble across the Lima Bean and Kurt and Sebastian would spit out remarks. Kurt found them fun, and Sebastian did too. Kurt nearly wanted to meet him afterwards just to kiss him. There was something about playing this game with Sebastian that made Kurt happy in some way, and at the same time, it made him feel horrible because Blaine was so oblivious to everything around him. As far as Blaine knew, Sebastian was completely enticed by him but Kurt knew that Sebastian couldn't care less about Blaine. In fact, he detested Blaine from what Kurt knew.

It was one of those days where Blaine hadn't come into the Lima Bean. It was just Sebastian and Kurt.

Sebastian was eating a low-fat blueberry muffin. The Lima Bean only made one type of blueberry muffin. Kurt knew Sebastian's orders by heart as well – and Sebastian knew Kurt's orders by heart. Sebastian had offered the other half of his muffin to Kurt. Kurt took it…it was low-fat after all, right?

"Hardly think a boy like you needs low-fat anything," Kurt murmured, eyes trailing across Sebastian's frame.

Sebastian smirked. "I don't give a shit about no-fat or full-fat or half-fat or whatever. I just wanted a blueberry muffin," he shrugged, shaking his head. He looked down at his feet before looking up at Kurt. "Did you and Blaine sleep with each other?"

Kurt felt stomach acid rise in his throat. He did. It didn't even occur to him to write it in his letters either. It was a big event that had happened yet somehow, they didn't make its way to Kurt's mind. It just happened, and he could see how much the thought was crushing the tall brunette. "Yes," he nodded his head. "We did."

"Did he hurt you?" Sebastian asked, looking at Kurt. It wasn't even pure jealousy that was in Sebastian's eyes – it was simply pure concern.

It was strange and Kurt didn't know how to deal with it at all. It was out of character on Sebastian's part. Kurt just stared at him for a while before shaking his head. Kurt couldn't help himself from asking. "Did people hurt you when they slept with you then?"

Sebastian snorted, as if it was the stupidest question Kurt had asked. "Of course, K. Of course."

Kurt stared at Sebastian for a long time. "I just want to understand how people could want to hurt one person so bad."

Sebastian laughed, as if the answer was obvious. "The thing about being hurt so often is at one point you start to believe that you must have done something to deserve all of this. One time is unlikely, two times is undeserving, three—four—more? It sounds like it's just meant to fucking be that way. Something wrong with you then, not the people. That's just how I felt like, Hummel. It's…"

Kurt shook his head. "Nobody deserves pain, Sebastian – regardless of what they've done, but everyone deserves happiness. It's what I've been taught."

"Teach me then," Sebastian looked down at his feet, snorting for a while just to diffuse the tension in the air. "Teach me how to think like that, because I'd do anything to think like that, K. Anything."

Kurt stared at him for some time before shaking his head. "I have to go, Sebastian."

The thing was that Kurt didn't know how to answer to that question. Sebastian could tell as well, as he watched the shorter brunette just leave. Kurt didn't really look back. He didn't know what to say. He didn't really know what happened between them or what the conversation was about.

Christmas was coming soon. Kurt was wondering what to give Blaine and he'd also been wondering what to give Sebastian. He'd gotten them both horrible, tacky gifts but they were both received nicely. He'd gotten Charlie a jersey, which just earned a scoff from his twin before he wore it. Kurt had also been donned a jersey, the same exact jersey that he'd gotten for Charlie. Burt laughed when he realised that their gifts to each other were identical. Kurt wore the jersey whilst Charlie did as well. Charlie told Kurt it looked so much better on him.

It was a strange Christmas, but a nice one all the same. Kurt had found himself laughing a bit here and there.

After Christmas had happened, there was the proposal. Kurt had liking their swimming routine. Funnily, he didn't practice any of the routine with Blaine but with Sebastian. The taller brunette had a swimming pool that wasn't filled with freezing cold water (as Blaine's) and they spent a few nights just swimming. They had their shirts off, their swim trucks on and just moved across the waters, paddling, spinning, playing around with the water until their hands turned wrinkly and the moonlight was gently reflecting back their faces. Somehow, the mention of what happened at the Lima Bean seemed to elude them both.

Kurt remembered eating pizza every night with Sebastian in the pool for a very long time. For once, he'd abandoned Blaine for Sebastian in a long time and the ravenette was feeling the strain and distance. Kurt had sworn he experienced pizza from every possible place in Lima. The last time that Kurt was in the pool, he'd told Sebastian that he'd not have another slice of pizza in his life, which just prompted a raise of Sebastian's eyebrow. He cajoled him into another slice as they ate Pizza Hut together. It was always something that was just about covered in meat when Sebastian was around. They split a medium pie between them and Kurt wondered how Sebastian's physique wasn't effected by all that bloody pizza.

They'd come close to kissing once, just a tad close.

"No," Kurt shook his head, dipping his head back into the water only to surface back in second's inches away from Sebastian. "This is not what I came here for."

Sebastian stared at Kurt for a while. "But you want to," he said, and it wasn't a statement Kurt could deny either.

Kurt looked back. "I also want to burn all of Lima but I'm not going to do that," he said, his voice wavering off. Sebastian had moved towards him, placing a hand on Kurt's arm and rubbing against where his self-harm scars were. Sebastian had seen them countless of times before and he kept on rubbing them for some reason, but he'd never spoke about them.

"What's up with you?" Sebastian had called out.

Kurt wanted to tell him that he'd caught him in a wrong mood. He was feeling very angry over everything, and just wanted to cry and slit his wrists until he bled and died. He didn't say any of that. "Nothing. I just want to go home," he slid out of the water, looking for his bag to change back into his dry clothing.

When Kurt had slipped out from his wet clothing into his dry ones, he'd thought that he was left alone. Apparently not, because Sebastian was outside waiting for him to change.

"You take a fucking long time to change," Sebastian said after a while, already in a jacket, shirt, jeans and flip-flops, a very odd combination but not one that Sebastian wouldn't wear.

Kurt snorted, shaking his head. "I really am not in the mood, Sebastian."

Sebastian seemed to find it funny, placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder. This only earned a shove from Kurt, whose eyes were starting to go dark.

"I will honestly hurt you if you don't get out of my way," Kurt had announced. "I will open up every single one of those wounds on your body and slowly torture you until you bleed to death."

Sebastian was still grinning, shaking his head. "Wow, K, the bitch in you is hot."

Kurt knew that if he continued to talk to Sebastian, he'd probably just end up spewing the tall brunette's brains out so he just walked, keeping his duffel close. When he got to the gate, Sebastian was still behind him. Kurt had finally given up and stared back at Sebastian.

"I really will hurt you, Sebastian," Kurt murmured.

"Yeah, yeah," Sebastian didn't believe that Kurt could hurt him. For some reason, this made the fire inside of Kurt burn and he ended up shoving Sebastian straight into the gates. The spindly brunette was rammed up straight against the metal gate, hitting a very awkward and horrible angle. His lip was cut open from the impact of his lips and the metal.

He looked back at Kurt, looking completely silent now. His face was soft. "Are you okay, Kurt?"

Kurt shook his head, tears filling his eyes. Now that he'd actually hurt Sebastian, he felt abnormally guilty. "I'm sorry," he choked out, feeling tears fall down his eyes. "Oh, fuck. How…"

Sebastian snorted, laughing. "Really, Kurt? You think this bothers me? It's cute. It's nothing. I can just walk it off."

"I tore half your lip apart!" Kurt exclaimed, his voice high. "It's not cute!"

Kurt was shaking his head, feeling frantic. "I'm sorry, Sebastian. This is just not acceptable. I shouldn't have laid a finger on you. In fact, if you want to, you should hurt me. I just…I'm so sorry. This is…you shouldn't have been around me when I was in that mood. I suffer from depression and that was one of my more so horrible moods and just…"

"Calm down, K," Sebastian said, moving towards Kurt and wrapping his arms around him. Kurt was still crying, and now, was full on sobbing. "Sheesh. All of this for a cut lip? Fuck. If I tell you my arm hurts a bit too, are you going to marry me to make me feel better?"

Kurt actually managed to laugh at that once, burying his head in Sebastian's chest.

"What do you feel like when you're in this mood?" Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I want to go home, slit my wrists and bleed until I die," Kurt confessed, not looking at Sebastian's face. After a few seconds, he looked up to see Sebastian's facial expression. "I've done it before – not slit my wrists until I die but…" he said, shaking his head.

"I've tried to kill myself before, Sebastian. I'm not exactly the most stable person in the universe."

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," Sebastian said after a while, placing a hand underneath Kurt's chin and making him look up into those green eyes. Kurt couldn't read Sebastian's expression but knew it was one appropriate for the situation without being too solemn. "So, those cuts…you put them there? Yourself?"

"Of course I did," Kurt thought they were obviously self-harm scars, but he supposed it wasn't so obvious to the abused Sebastian. "Did you think someone put them there for me?"

Sebastian slowly nodded his head. "They look like mine," he said after a while. "I thought that—Christ. Fuck!"

Kurt opened the gates, and Sebastian followed the brunette out towards his car. They were in silence for the most bit, as Sebastian digested the information that Kurt had told him. When they'd paused by Kurt's car, the shorter male looked up at the taller one with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Sebastian?" Kurt called out.

Sebastian shook his head. "Can you let me know why?"

"Because sometimes, the emotional pain is so bad that the physical pain is a release," Kurt responded, not even daring to meet Sebastian's eyes as he answered his question.

Sebastian stared at Kurt for some time. "Call me," he finally said. "When you feel like shit. Call me."

Kurt nodded his head. "Okay."

And Kurt sped off to go home.

xo Peanut Butter/Sam