Blaine takes a slight U-turn in this chapter, but I really hope you will go with it. It get's good at the end, I promise (writing wise)
Blaine woke up in the middle of the night, staring at the wall in front of him. Sebastian was pressed tightly against him from behind, with his arms around Blaine's stomach. Blaine realized he was going to miss school.
"You up yet?" Sebastian asked, slightly concerned tone to his voice. Blaine shifted a little and the arms around him disappeared. Blaine turned to stare at Sebastian, embarrassed when he remembered how he had behaved the day before. How desperate he had been and how angry he had gotten - even if the last part didn't bother him that much. It had taken the pain away for a while, making him forget a little.
"I'm awake," Blaine finally managed as he sat up. Sebastian looked at him in slight concern, but didn't say anything in return.
They both skipped school, hanging around Sebastian's house hour after hour. Blaine's phone vibrated at one point, neither noticed until five in the afternoon. It was from Kurt. Really, there were a lot of messages - 17, to be exact. Blaine stared at the phone for a moment before looking up at Sebastian.
Opening the messages was hard. But once Sebastian had taken the phone and started reading out loud, until Blaine was sobbing violently against the pillows of Sebastian's bed.
You have got some nerve writing from his phone.
I realise this is not easy for him – I've seen his face. But that doesn't mean this is easy for me. I hate this, but I can't go to New York having him on my mind.
If you fuck him while he's crying, I'll kill you.
Answer me, Sebastian.
He's vulnerable.
I can't believe you, god. You tell me I'm the bad guy?
He needs the time to recover.
I know I've done wrong, but what you're doing right now is so much worse. You can't really believe this is good for him, can you?
You know what? Keep him happy.
I guess the fact that he's given in to you says something - about him.
But if you are forcing this on him, I'll kill you.
I don't care that he isn't mine any more. I will kill you.
Sebastian looked up between those from the night before and those Kurt had sent throughout the day. Blaine had simply nodded; he wanted to hear the rest, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.
Blaine?
I don't want you back - I hope you realise that. I don't care if you slept with him. I just need you to know that I do not want you back.
And you need to forget us, Blaine.
It's never going back again.
I still love you; I just can't with the whole New York deal.
Somewhere along "you need to forget us", Blaine had lost it. He couldn't listen, couldn't do anything but cry, cry, cry. Sebastian was staring at him. Blaine just shook violently for some time, before returning to a somewhat stable state again, finally reaching out for his phone. Without either of them noticing, about half an hour had passed.
Inside, Blaine was still hurting from the last couple of messages Kurt had written. For someone who had loved him so much over the last year, Kurt really had turned 180°. Blaine was trying to make up his mind about if he really believed Kurt meant it.
It seemed too unreal to be happening. Sebastian was still looking at him, as if he was waiting for something more. Some of the rage from the night before, some of that anger. But Blaine didn't feel it. There was nothing but wonder and regret to be found.
"What now?" Sebastian wondered out loud, still looking at Blaine. Blaine shrugged, the tears where drying on his cheeks and the sobs had died down.
"How do you feel?" Blaine looked up in disbelief, eyes blank. It was Sebastian's turn to shrug and Blaine couldn't but smile just a bit. Sebastian's whole face lit up in response and he laughed a little, suddenly making Blaine very aware of the fact that he had just smiled. That was progress, right? Somewhere inside that thought hurt him slightly. It was progress in turning away from Kurt and that was terrifying to think of.
"Hollow," Blaine finally said, drawing his lips tightly together in a thin line before lying down on his back.
"Want to talk about it?" Blaine didn't want to. It was too personal to share with a guy like Sebastian.
"No."
Coming home felt as the oddest thing Blaine had ever done. Mostly because he was used the house being empty, bur for some reason the house help was there, at 7 am.
"You missed school yesterday, they called to ask if you were sick." Blaine walked into the kitchen and sat down on one of the barstools his father had bought alongside the new bar. It was a we-are-home-a-lot-bar he would show of whenever they had company. Usually Blaine would go to his room when his father got like that. Cold and fake, with that big smile plastered all over his face.
"I fell asleep at a friends," Blaine said. Laura didn't look up from her work. She was standing over the sink, washing dishes.
"I called down to St Ann's Hospital, asking for you," she said. It stung slightly, because he knew that the last time she did so, he had been there; beat up. But he didn't answer her, he couldn't.
"So you were at Kurt's I'm taking it?" No, I was crying my eyes out, begging to be fucked by a guy who turned out to be the most supportive person in my life.
"Yeah. I need to pack my bag."
School. Indifference. Fuck it, honestly.
Blaine was in the middle of Spanish, listening to that new, hot, hot, teacher. But he realized that he could not bring himself to give a single fucking shit about anything that was said in the classroom, so when the attention was turned to him for him to talk, he stood up and walked out without a word.
He walked down the hall, out on the football field, into the sun. He looked up at the sky above him, all blue and really lovely, if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't care at all. Not one bit. That hollow feeling was getting to him, hunting him into a darker place than he dared to think of. Mainly, he was scared about the whole thing, losing himself to a black hole of nothing and fuck this shit.
Anger, he decided to call it, just make him feel more at ease, even if it was a big lie. A big lie he was going to tell not only himself, but also other people, just to convince them he had control over everything.
When a few clouds showed themselves, Blaine walked in again, towards the choir room. He didn't know what he felt, when he walked in and saw Kurt sit right there on a rad plastic chair laughing at something Tina was saying. When people turned to look at Blaine, he simply walked up and took a chair on the opposite side of the room from Kurt. It was the most childish thing he had done in a long time, but it suddenly felt more right than anything he had ever done - at least within the last few days. It felt better than yelling at Sebastian, better than crying. It was satisfying, to rebel, even if it was to just simply ignore the others. He maintained that feeling until Mike chose to sit beside him, smiling fondly.
"I'm free to talk, whenever," Mike stated. Blaine didn't even look up at him. Blaine did somewhat miss talking to Mike, but for talking that deeply, Mike wouldn't do. It was just far too personal, on some level. Even if Mike was the most understanding of Blaine, considering his very grown up relationship with Tina.
"I'm just angry, is all," Blaine mumbled and then went back to ignore the others. Even when Kurt got up and sang, Blaine didn't look up. He did notice, that the song was directed somewhat at him, but Blaine couldn't care. When he looked up at Kurt, there was a stabbing pain in his heart for a fraction of a second, but then nothing. He was sitting there, staring at the most beautiful bot he knew and he didn't feel anything.
Hearing that it was over for good from Kurt had made the difference to him, proved to be enough for him to give it all up.
When Blaine walked out through the main entrance of the school, he was met with the sight of his car spray-painted with bright, red paint.
Fairy
Blaine looked at the small group of jocks stand a few feet away from his car. They were laughing a bit, pushing each other, talking, one of them pointing to Blaine. Blaine dropped his bag right on the stairs and walked towards them. Nothing ran through his head. There was completely silent when he went right up to the group of jocks and took the first swing at the nearest of them. They were in such shock from the fact that he had reacted like that; he managed to get the guy on the ground and punch him 'til was bleeding from both his nose and mouth. People were gathering, staring, yelling.
Blaine didn't see anything, didn't hear anything, and didn't sense anything. He was running on pure instinct to feel. Even if it was pain from being attacked by the jocks friends or from his hands staring to go sore because of the force he was slamming them against a hard cheekbone, a jaw and the ground beneath. It didn't matter what kind of feeling or pain it was, the whole thing was about waking some form of feeling in him.
Somewhere in-between getting kicked in the face and dragged away from the jock, Blaine realized what he had done. He got up on his feet and turned to look at face after face, set after set of eyes full of slightly scared wonder. Blaine didn't really feel that rush he had hoped for when turning, so he spun on his heel and ran to his car, pulled his keys out of his back pocket and drove off, forgetting all about his bag.
He didn't drive home that night, but he drove out into the night, settling for sleeping in the car. It was perfectly cold in it, giving him another excuse for feeling numb. It was a new focus point, a new prospect, he told himself, when he laid down in the backseat, closing his eyes and tried to drift off. But he didn't.
Something moved in him, as he tried to. Something shifted. It was easy being angry – or pretending to. Yes, he might get judged for it but it was no worse than the bullying he had been exposed to in his past. Being an outcast was part of him; it was easy to live with. He could do as Quinn, dress himself up, smoke and do stupid things. But he didn't really want to. He knew better ways to rebel. Run off, worry people sick if he could, make them regret chasing him away.
He remembered that night when his father had yelled at him for hours and hours; making both Blaine and his mother cry hard, painful tears because that wasn't the kind of happy family life either of them wanted. Blaine wanted nothing more than to be able to seek comfort in his parents, hug and kiss them. Have them tell that they cared, but they didn't.
His mother wasn't a woman of conflict; she didn't want to take sides in the matter, so she let it rest. Whenever Blaine would bring up his trouble with Mr Anderson, "father", she would ignore him. So they grew apart. Even if his father had sometimes tried, just the slightest bit, Blaine could tell the man wasn't serious.
Blaine fell asleep after two long hours of thinking with an expression of loneliness on his face. It covered up the hollow look he had worn while thinking, even if there was no one around to see it.
The car smelled like his childhood, blankets that had been lying in the grass, his father's cigars, and his mother's cigarettes. It had the scent of long afternoons in the park with kite flying and children's songs.
When Blaine woke the next morning, two hours after classes had started he didn't realize, but he had cried the entire night in his sleep. The almost silent whimpers had been the only thing between him and complete silence.
I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for all the lovely comments, the adds to favorites and such.
Again, sorry for all misspelling and/or typos
