Chapter Four

Blaine was dizzy. Ever since he'd overheard Wes telling David about Kurt and Log- he swallowed, unable to get the image of the two of them out of his head. Logan and Kurt. Kurt and Logan. Hands all over. He couldn't bear it. Kurt was his boyfriend; he'd reassured Blaine of that on several occasions, insisting that there was nothing going between him and Logan and that anything insinuated was all in the blond's head. Kurt had even made it clear to Logan many times that he was madly in love with and dating Blaine. Blaine knew all of this, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was finding the Prefect and making everything right again. He had to get these images out of his head. It was like his nightmare from months ago, the one the night before Sectionals, only this was real and all so different: Logan forcefully devouring Kurt's mouth as he pressed him against the wall when in reality Logan was running his smooth, un-calloused hands over Kurt's legs, caressing his slender fingers. He had to get away. He had to find-

He stopped and slammed his fist into a wall in frustration. A jarring pain shot from his knuckles up his arm but he didn't care. He put his back to the wall, leant against it and slid to the floor, cradling his now injured arm in the other, realising as he did so that he didn't even know where he was anymore. Ground floor or fifth floor. Main building or one of the dormitories. His head was pounding, his chest felt tight and his stomaching was heaving. As he leaned his head back against the wall he tried to focus on his hands, but either his fingers were shaking too much, his eyes were too blurry or a combination of the two, he just couldn't focus on the digits through the haze. He felt sick. And not in the way he felt last December when everyone in Dalton was snowed in (aside from the Windsor lunatics who decided to brave the freezing temperatures and see who could catch hypothermia or injure themselves in any other way first). His mind couldn't help but remember waking up to Kurt's strong, smooth hands working their way across his chest, pressing down slightly as they rubbed the menthol over shoulders, dipping into his collarbone before they worked their way down, skimming over his chest as Kurt's pliant fingers stroked their way down every nook and cranny. Not an inch of skin was spared from Kurt's delicate touch and not an inch of skin had ever felt better or more alive. He'd simply lain there, faking slumber as Kurt administered the most sensual massage he had ever felt. Naturally when those wonderfully skilled fingers began to slide away he had been forced to wake up and prevent Kurt leaving - by clasping the fingers stroking his shoulders. Is that what he had to do now? After the love Kurt had poured into Blaine, overflowing his very being, was he now pulling away so that Blaine had to physically prevent him leaving? His stomach (or was it his heart) gave a particularly painful clench and he shut his eyes. A single tear made its way slowly down his cheek before dropping onto his grey slacks. Blaine focused on the small dark spot on his trousers before slowly wrapping his shaking arms around his legs and resting his head on his knees. No, he couldn't do that. Not to Kurt.

Leaning heavily on his non-injured hand, he braced himself against the floor and stood, shakily to his feet. After swaying unsteadily on his feet, he rested his back against a wall and tried to figure out where he was. He'd been attending Dalton for a while now, so it was a strange feeling to be as lost as when he had first arrived (mapless and friendless) and thought that everywhere looked the same, every corridor looked like any other and that the entire school was like Hogwarts, minus the moving pictures, spiralling turrets and giant squid filled lake. A glance out of the opposite window gave the view of the green fields Dalton used for sports, thus making him in Windsor House. At least when he was unaware of his actions he headed to the correct dormitories at least. He groaned and started off down the corridor, praying internally that no-one had seen him since he left the library over in the Main building as he couldn't recall a thing. As he made his way down the corridor, glancing out of the windows as he went, the flash of light from a badge caught his eye. And there he was, prefect's badge glinting in the sun, the boy Blaine had been looking for. Picking up speed, Blaine ran towards the stairs at the end of the hallway.

So not as much plot progression as you might have been hoping for, but I figured that it would be nice to get inside Blaine's head for a little bit, see how he's doing (and judging by how confused and jumbled his thoughts are, I'd say not too well - yes that was intentional). Plus we get to see a little bit more about Blaine, such as how much he enjoyed Kurt rubbing in that menthol. I figured that you might appreciate that as well. ;)

But our White Rabbit is still stumbling along this path after the prefect. The question is, who do you think he's after? I'll be updating early next week (hopefully) as I'm on a field trip when I usually update. There's no internet and I'm going to miss the Prom. I'm going to flip.