"I just don't see how this could work… With me there and you here… It's a whole year Blaine!"

Blaine held his tears in his eyes, taking another swig from the bottle. He had cried enough in the last week, it was time to do something. Anything. But Blaine felt dead inside, and must have looked it too. The bouncer hadn't even asked for an ID when he walked in. Good thing…He didn't have one.

"But we were going to try. Give it a chance, it could work! You don't know!"

"But I do no…What are we doing Blaine? We're kidding ourselves here…"

He could barely hear the music, or the people talking around him. Laughing, dancing, having fun…They did not belong in the same world together.

"You promised…You promised you would never say goodbye to me…"

"Things change."

Blaine stumbled to his feet, slamming the bottle on the table so hard it broke. The girls next to him screamed and the bar tender tried to grab his upper arm.

"Hey buddy…What's–?" Blaine yanked out of his grasp.

"Screw this! Screw…All of this!" His words were slurred but understandable. He walked to the other side of the bar where a girl sat alone. She was pretty. Long, silky red hair and piercing blue eyes. A slim build met with a short black skirt and a low-cut shimmery top.

The girl straightened up. She'd been eying the dark-haired stranger all night. Evidently he had finally noticed her too.

Blaine held his hand out to the girl as he approached her, much to the dismay of a few other girls nearby. "Wanna dance?"

She smiled mischievously, and allowed herself to be led out on to the dance floor.

Piercing sunlight assaulted Blaine through his closed eyelids. His head pounded. He reached for the extra pillow he kept next to his bed for Kurt, but came up empty. He eyes shot open, pupils protesting the brightness. Kurt, bar, dancing… He looked around at the unfamiliar room, and saw the redhead lying next to him. He couldn't name the emotion that washed over him as his memories came back through the drunken haze.

What the hell did I do?

Blaine got out of bed. Deciding that the women whose bed he slept in deserved an explanation, not just an empty apartment. He wandered around, finding the kitchen with ease in the small area. He opened the fridge and pulled out a box of eggs, quietly searching for a frying pan. He wondered if she had ever had a man make her breakfast after the first sleep over.

He also wondered if she'd ever been a broken-hearted gay man's rebound.

He tried to remember what had happened last night. The women had introduced herself on the dance-floor… Claire. She was undeniably beautiful.

Just not quite my type.

Blaine remembered asking him to go home with her. He was too drunk and out of it to say no. The rest of the night was gone, whether he couldn't remember it, or just didn't want to.

The smell of cooking food woke Claire from her hung-over slumber. It was so odd, nothing ever got cooked in her apartment unless her parents were in town. The men she brought home never cooked for her. Most didn't even have the decency to leave a note when they took off in the morning. But this guy…Was different to say the least. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, groaning as she remembered everything that had happened after she had brought Blaine up to her apartment. This was just too much for her.

She pulled on a robe and shuffled into the kitchen, her stomach over-powering the rest of her. Blaine was as expressionless sober as he was drunk. She looked over the counter at the food he was preparing.

He gestured vaguely to it. "I was going to make you an omelet, but you didn't have vegetables or anything. So it's just swiss cheese…"

"Thanks," she forced a smile as he handed her the plate and followed her to the table. He hadn't made anything for himself. She stared at him as she waited for him to talk.

"Look," he said finally, not meeting her gaze. "I shouldn't have gone home with you last night. I'm not really…. I'm not… I'm gay."

"I know." Claire replied simply. Blaine blanched, furrowing his eyebrows.

"How–?"

"Last night…You don't remember do you?" He shook his head. "When we were…You know…You kept calling me Kurt. I thought you were just really drunk. But then you started crying after…You were really a mess." She said sadly.

Blaine looked up at her then. His eyes flashing through many emotions; and Claire was surprised by the emotion he settled on.

He started laughing.

Not quite laughing…Screaming in demonic delight. Claire jumped back as his hyena noises grew in volume.

He took deep breaths as tears slid down his reddened face. "Oh my god." He choked and stopped laughing, frowning deeply. "That was so inappropriate. I'm so sorry."

She continued to stare at him, and she too got the ridiculous urge to laugh as well. What the hell. She thought, I just had possibly the most ridiculous night of my life. Might as well start laughing about it now.

And that was exactly what she did.

And they laughed together. Laughed until they were both sobbing.

"That was probably the worst night of your life." Blaine gasped.

"Not quite." Claire replied between fits of giggles. "But it was definitely up there."

"Oh my god," Blaine wiped his eyes and cheeks. "I'd say I was sorry, but I don't think that could even begin to cover this."

Claire's breathing began to regulate, and she smiled at Blaine. "Well you can start to make it up to me. I'll get dressed and you, sir, can buy me coffee."

3 Months Later

Claire opened Blaine's door with the key he gave her and balanced the two coffee's in her hand. She flipped on the lights in Blaine's bedroom and sat down next to him.

"Blaine. Blaine. Blaine. Hey, Blaine. Blaine wake up." She poked him every time she said his name. He grabbed a pillow and smacked her in the face with it, moaning something into his mattress.

"Hey mister, we have a date today. And I am not taking you out in public with that kind of attitude." Claire started pulling on his untamed curls. "Or with that hair."

"Why did I ever give you a key?" Blaine groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Because I'm fabulous and you love me!"

"I must…Seeing that it is eight in the morning and because of you, I am now awake."

Claire was silent, and her face broke out into a sweat. Blaine sat up quickly, putting a hand on her back. "Claire?"

She jumped off the bed and ran across Blaine's apartment to the bathroom and began retching into the toilet. Blaine came to her aid and held her hair back while she vomited violently in the tiny bathroom. When the heaving subsided, Blaine began to rub her shoulders, trying to calm her down. He wanted to ask her something, but he wasn't sure how. He mulled it over, biting the inside of his cheek, and decided he had to say something.

"Claire, this is the second time this has happened."

No response.

"Claire we need to talk about this."

No response.

Blaine leaned forward so he could look at her.

"I was going to talk to you today." She whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible. There were tears in her eyes threatening to spill over onto her pale face. Her eyes met his, burning behind her lashes, and Blaine knew. She didn't have to say anything more, but she did.

"I took the test last night."

And then there were tears, from both of them. But Blaine knew he had to be strong. He held Claire's hand while she sobbed into his chest; he had no idea what else to do. How did someone prepare for something like this? How were they supposed to deal with it? It wasn't like there was a guide book for how a straight girl and her gay best friend were supposed to raise a baby together.

Blaine closed his eyes. He was going to be a senior in high school. She was 23. He wanted to scream. To kick himself over and over and to go back and fix everything. But he couldn't. All other thoughts drained from his mind, one coming to the fore-front where Blaine could agonize over it.

How the hell did I let this happen?