This chapter is a lot longer than chapter one, and it ends with a little cliffhanger. Enjoyyyyy :)
"I asked for a purple flower," Blaine argued with the florist the next day. The homecoming dance was tonight, king and queen would be announced tonight, etcetera, etcetera. He was picking up Quinn's corsage for that night, and of course, the florist had to mess it up. She didn't speak a lick of English, and frustrated, Blaine ripped the box from her hands, threw a few bills on the counter, and stormed out of the shop. "Quinn's gonna be pissed," he thought, tossing the yellow rose in the passenger seat of his car. Before opening up the driver's seat door, he noticed that boy from the cafeteria walking hurriedly towards a car, clutching a bag from the dry cleaners. Probably for the dance later that night. Blaine hadn't seen him hang out with anyone, so who could he possibly go with? Unless he was going alone? Rumor was that this kid was gay, so maybe he had a boyfriend that went to another school? Not that Blaine cared. He climbed into his car and shoved the keys into the ignition.
"You are an asshole," he heard. Blaine blinked twice, his eyelashes getting stuck together. He shook his head and flipped through the radio stations, trying to get his mind off of the voice he was hearing. It worked, but for a short while. He didn't hear it again, but the words burned into his brain, refusing to leave. He pulled into his driveway and rested his head on the steering wheel, stopping to think. Since when did Blaine Anderson care what Rachel Berry thought? She was the lowest of the low, and he had gotten lots of insults like that before, usually brushing them off. Why did hers stick? Blaine took the flower from the passenger's seat, glanced at the clock, and climbed out of the driver's side. 3:00 PM. An hour and a half until he was supposed to meet Quinn at the Fabray's house, two hours until their dinner reservation at Breadstix. Maybe a shower would clear his head. Hopefully a shower would clear his head.
"It's...yellow," Quinn sighed, looking at the corsage. She had Blaine's boutonniere in her hand, a purple orchid, which matched her dress. Blaine wore all black: black pants, black dress shoes, black dress shirt, and a thin black tie. His hair was gelled down, as usual, to keep his wild curls tame.
"The florist messed up, not me," Blaine said quickly.
"I can't wear it. It doesn't match," she pouted, placing Blaine's boutonniere on her granite countertop.
"Then what are we supposed to do?" his voice rose.
"I'm not wearing that monstrosity."
Blaine rolled his eyes. Quinn was always so picky, with everything. He actually really despised that about her, and he felt like he shouldn't. "Fine," he said, tossing the plastic box onto the counter, along with Quinn's boutonniere. "Let's go."
The couple arrived at Breadstix, receiving a lot of smiles and compliments on how cute they looked together. Quinn's smile grew bigger and bigger at each compliment they received, while Blaine's ego rejected them. He felt limp, lifeless. He never had felt like this in his entire life. He scanned the restaurant after they had sat down, his eyes landing on that boy from before. He wore tight black pants, like the other day in the cafeteria, a black vest, white button down, and thin black tie. He sipped from a glass of ice tea as he chatted with Mike Chang and his girlfriend.
"I'm excited for tonight," Quinn purred from across the table. Blaine snapped away from looking at the boy and smiled warmly at his girlfriend.
"Me too," he grinned, reaching across the table for her hand. His thumb rubbed the side of her fingers as she sighed, a smile creeping onto her lips.
It was an hour into the dance. Quinn was being her normal, picky, bitchy self, and Blaine should be able to tolerate it by now, but he couldn't.
"What's wrong with you?" she screamed over the blasting music. Blaine sighed and stared at the floor.
"I don't know," he murmured.
"Get your shit together, Blaine," she scoffed, stomping off towards a group of Cheerios grinding on some football players. He wanted to chase after her, but he figured he'd be better off alone without her for a little while.
"Blaine Anderson and Quinn 'perfect' Fabray actually squabble?" a voice chirped up. Blaine whirled around. It was the tight black pants wearing boy.
"What's it to you?" Blaine retorted. The boy propped his chin up onto his elbows, his bright blue eyes sparkling in the dark.
"Oh, nothing. Just a little shocked is all," he sighed, blinking a few times, "You've never even talked to me before. This is kind of weird."
"Why should I talk to some gay kid who prances around school sprinkling fairy dust everywhere?" Blaine said, tightening his tie. The boy seemed unscathed by the insult.
"I'm Kurt by the way. Kurt Hummel." Blaine squinted at Kurt, brows knitting together.
"And you know who I am," Blaine replied smoothly, smoothing out his shirt.
"You don't seem happy with her. Quinn."
"That's because I'm not," Blaine thought, "Listen, just forget this conversation ever happened. I'll...see you around."
"Whatever you say, Blaine Anderson."
Blaine liked the way Kurt said his name. It sounded soft and sweet, unlike when Quinn said it. He walked away, only to bump into none other than...Rachel.
"Watch where you're going, manhands," he sneered, backing away from Rachel like she had some type of disease.
"Like I said the other day-"
"No, I don't care what you said the other day. And no matter what happens to me, I'll still be ahead of you on the food chain. And you can't do anything about it," Blaine said, cutting her off. It felt good, and he suddenly didn't feel so tired and lifeless anymore.
"Oh, you're gonna get it," she shrieked, stomping closer to him. The lifelessness fell over him again, but luckily, one of Rachel's friends grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away. Quinn reappeared by Blaine's side within an instant.
"What was that about?" she asked quizzically. Blaine opened his mouth, but nothing came out. "Doesn't matter, they're going to announce king and queen soon," Quinn smiled, taking his hand and leading him towards the stage with the DJ.
Next thing Blaine knew, he was slow dancing with Quinn in the middle of the gym floor, a crown on his head and a tiara on hers. She looked beautiful, he had to admit, but he couldn't stop thinking about Kurt. The thought of Kurt made Blaine's mind rush, but then he thought of what Rachel said, and it made his stomach bubble. What did she mean by "get it"? He grew dizzy, and he could tell that Quinn knew something was up.
"You okay?" she nuzzled into his neck. He moaned, but not of pleasure, but of pain. She couldn't tell the difference, so she buried her face deeper into his collar.
"No, Quinn, stop," he said, backing away from her. She looked confused, but also really infuriated, at the same time. He ran out of the gym, feeling sick to his stomach. He had managed to find his car in the parking lot outside, grabbed the keys from his pocket, fumbled to stick them into the ignition, and drive home. He didn't care that he was leaving Quinn behind after they had just won homecoming king and queen. He needed to be alone.
"Jesus," Blaine exhaled as he placed his head on the cool countertop in his kitchen. He glanced up at the back sliding door, noticing that the curtains were flung open and the door was wide open. Stumbling, he headed over to the door, noticing someone on his porch.
"Listen, I'm not in the-" he started. The figure turned around. It was...Rachel.
Next chapter will be up within the next few days!