A/N- Please keep in mind this is a 95% true story, just that in real life Blaine was a girl and Kurt was a girl (me), but everything else is pretty much real things. I just don't want people to think any of this stuff is unrealistic.

okay so anyone why had been to my tumblr (heathersyvilla dot tumblr dot com) should know I am a diehard dead head hippie, and the fact that I am using lyrics from a song that is relatively recent is making me grit my teeth, but this song did mean a lot to me back when I was going through this stuff and the lyrics certainly fit, but don't get used to it. Most quotes that are lyrics now on will be from pink Floyd and the grateful dead… maybe some Jefferson airplane. Stuff like that :)

Okay so for those who read my way too long authors notes, this story had been very hard for me to write, it is bringing back a whole bunch of dormant emotions and I'm just having a hard time. If there is anyone willing to talk to me about the story, so I don't have to go at it alone, (my beta dropped off the face of the earth) then please message me on here or on tumblr :) it would mean the world to have someone to write this with.

I do not own glee, please review!

And there's nothing wrong with me, this is how I'm supposed to be, in a land of make believe, that don't believe in me. –Green Day, Jesus of Suburbia.

Nothing changed, and once Blaine left my presence that night, I didn't want it to. I had to be honest with myself, and honesty meant admitting that in the end it would be Blaine and all his strings, or drugs.

As I lay in the dark, watching the shadows behind my eyes, I think of the way the green, crumpled leaves burned and shriveled into ash, the way the crystals pop and the red strings light like the string of dynamite. I remember that wonderful moment were your staring out into space and everything seems so much bigger, physically and philosophically, but then you realize your just high, but it's ok because all you have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride. I think of how such a simple white powder can brings me to the top of the world where I can't feel my face, but I can feel the vibrations of the universe.

I feel a cold tear fall down my cheek and into my hair as I remember how the swirls behind my eyes had comforted me after Bubha had left me curled up and sobbing. I had felt useless in that moment. I was aching and my eyes felt as though they were bleeding, but the swirls had told me that pain was only happiness so condensed that it hurt, and that tears only eased the pressure to make it better. And I had felt better, I had felt happy. Even though I had taken away my entire world and disappointed every dream I had for myself, I was ecstatic because the swirls told me I could be.

When I was little I was afraid of the dark. I never knew why such a simple thing could cause such insanity inside my head, but the darkness seemed to hold monsters that would hurt me if I didn't reach the safety of my bed in time. Back then monsters were external beings with defined forms, there were zombies and mummies, the boogie man and those serial killers I saw on television. I feared them as though they were the worst thing that could ever walk the planet, as if fear itself was the worst torture. A broken bone or a scratch was what I thought of when I thought of pain, and of course that seemed to be all a monster could do to me. Cause me physical pain.

This dilution had been wiped clean from my mind as if it had never been the day my mother had died. That pain had seemed to occupy ever single fiber of my being, and yet the extreme lack of physical injury was confusing and terrifying for me. How could I feel so much pain without a defined physical source for it? I was too young to understand that the loss of a mother was physical enough, but I wanted to see a broken bone or torn skin, I wanted something to show me what was wrong, how much damage there was, and what exactly I could do to make it better. I wanted a doctor to tell me all I needed was stitches or a cast, but the idea that a pain as deep as this could only be helped by my own thoughts and emotions terrified me to no end. I knew nothing of curing pain with thoughts. I thought maybe I should pray, but the day my mother had died was the day I lost faith in any form of a god.

That day had also been the day I realized that monsters do not hide under the bed and in the dark, they hid inside your mind, lurking in the crevices of every unused corner, waiting for you to be weakened so they can come out and tear apart everything that held you together. Monsters live inside me and I was so quick to let them take over my life that I didn't stop to think why I would want them to do that in the first place. I had let dilution and fear overpower me to the point where I was completely reckless and self destructive. There was no way someone could want me, because there was no way I could deserve someone. I was a monster.

I had kissed Blaine, and somewhere inside my deluded mind I had felt him kiss back, but why would I allow myself such a comfort? Blaine was pure and innocent, while I was wasted and torn apart by my own hands. I sold sex for money, and what good person would think of me as anything better than dirt. Inside my head I could defend myself, I could say 'it's my body, I can do what I want with it!' but that was all in my head. I could scream it from my rooftop for the world to hear, but no one would listen.

The nasty truth of it was that even if they did listen, it wouldn't matter. Any change would be that I was be a druggie without a secret, and I wanted my secrets. I loved my secrets. I had known Blaine for less than 12 hours, and yet he was the one person in the world to see some of my darkest secrets and still see me as a human being. I didn't deserve that, and I didn't deserve him.

O.o.O

Blaine called for the third time that day, but I just sat by my window and blew out a long, thick stream of grey smoke.

It had been 3 days since Blaine had driven me home, and Blaine was still calling and I was still trying to ignore him. I thought I could just simply turn my phone off, but that idea was simply ridiculous. The truth was that my heart fluttered inside my chest every single time I heard my phone buzz. Blaine hadn't forgotten me. I wasted no time in plugging in my phone every single time it got to less than 3 bars.

I hadn't gone back to Ethan's. I was surviving on my 5 gram stash of weed and almost full bottle of codeine, and I was getting by all right. I had no idea what I would do when school started in a week, but I didn't want to think about it. I would be a sophomore, and the thought made me sick. I wanted to be a senior, that way I wouldn't be looked at like I was some naïve child all the time. I knew they were right to look at me like that, but again, I didn't like to think about it.

I look at long, strong drag from the joint I had rolled and felt myself cough and gag, but my body and my mind seemed to be completely separate beings. I could hardly feel myself choking. My phone buzzed again, and somewhere in my completely gone mind I thought answering the phone would be the same thing as not answering the phone. It made perfect sense to me, so I did it.

"Huh?" I grunted, coughing weakly with what air I had left in my lungs.

"Kurt? Kurt oh my god I can't believe you answered. Why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"Blaine?" I said, not actually hearing anything Blaine had said.

"Yes, Kurt… why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"Answering your calls… wait…"I coughed a few more time then rasped "I don't get it."

"Kurt you're high." Blaine said, sounding extremely disappointed.

"Look Ethan, you can tell Bubha he can fuck you behind the shed because twice is quite enough for me. That guy isn't worth shit so you two would be perfect together. I'm not fucking doing it Ethan, I'm not." I said furiously, preparing to hang up on this asshole when Blaine screamed into the phone.

"I'm not Ethan Kurt! I'm Blaine and I'm making sure you're okay!"

I was extremely confused, not at all helped by the fact that I had ended up on the floor, joint safely in hand, without having one clue on how I got there. "Blaine?"

"Kurt, can I come over?"

"I just want to know got floor how Blaine." I slurred pleadingly.

"I'm coming over." Said Blaine, hanging up immediately.

The phone dropped from my hand when I realized how incredibly heavy it was, and then I began taking miniscule puffs from my joint and giggling at the ceiling. My limbs felt tied tightly to their current positions, and the idea of moving them was just as easy to contemplate as gouging out my own eye.

It felt like an hour, but on the other hand it felt like two seconds, but before I knew it Blaine was by my side, wiping the hair from my face and straightening out my clothes. He was talking, or perhaps he was screaming, but my ears seemed to be occupying some channel of consciousness I was not currently tuned into. I was just existing, audience to the shapes and colors that were dancing in front of my eyes as Blaine did things I was too far gone to understand.

I could have fallen asleep, or maybe just nodded off, but one second I was on the floor without a thought in the world and the next I was lying in my bed supremely aware of the hot hand clamped onto my own.

"Kurt?" said an anxious voice.

I became aware that I wasn't wearing a shirt, since I rarely did when I was home alone, but something I always did when anyone was in the house to cover my scar-covered arm. I rushed to cover it with the comforter, but Blaine stopped me with gentle hands.

"It's okay Kurt; you don't have to hide them from me."

I blinked over at him, and then noticed the feeling of nausea building up inside me. My right arm swung over to my bedside table to pull out the drawer and scramble around for my orange pill bottle. When I had gotten it out and started scrambling around with the lid, I felt Blaine's hand clasp over my entwined ones.

"Kurt, you cannot seriously be considering taking more drugs!"

"Blaine," I started calmly. "If I don't take them I will become so sick that it will feel like bugs are crawling around inside me and eating my flesh. Do you want that?"

"How will not taking drugs make you sick?" he said skeptically.

I glared at him. "Haven't you ever heard of detox Blaine?"

Obviously trying to cover up his ignorance, Blaine changed the subject at top speed. "Can't you just wait a little longer Kurt?"

"If I'm going to do it later, I might as well do it now." I said as I succeeded in popping open the lid and throwing three pills into my mouth before Blaine could protest anymore. I sat up, feeling my entire body begin to spin and vibrate, and then I had fallen onto Blaine's lap without noticing I had done so. He held me willingly, but he looked sad and lost. "Blaine, you can take a few. I want you to; I want to see you smile."

I had expected him to refuse pompously, perhaps even leave as he had done the very first time we had met, but instead he stared at the bottle longingly and said quietly "what does it feel like?"

I adjusted myself in Blaine's lap so I was straddling his legs, and whispered into his ear "it makes all the pain in your life a beautiful landscape, and it makes all your happiness turn into wings so you can fly and observe your world like an angel."

Blaine shuddered, still staring at the bottle with so many unreadable emotions.

"I can't, Kurt. Not… not today."

I sighed dramatically, thinking I'd get Blaine high someday, and reveling in the feeling of being on top of him. It was comfortable, and I didn't have that overwhelming anxious feeling in my chest like I did whenever I was around other people and wasn't buzzed up on coke. I slowly pushed Blaine back onto the bed so he was lying down and I rolled over so I was flush against his side, my head lying on Blaine's chest. I could hear Blaine's heart beating at a murderous speed and his breath quicken, but he showed no sign of resistance.

I started to feel myself sink into my high, letting the waves of dilution and depths immerse my body once more. In that moment, Blaine felt majestic, as if he were so crucial to the universe that if he so much as left the room, all balance in time and space would crumble like the ash on a burning cigarette.

O.o.O

I often hear people throw the word 'whore' around casually, as if no one in their presence could every actually be such a thing, so there was no use using caution. The same goes for the words 'fag', 'queer', and 'gay', as if such things were unlikely to be around so there was no use caring for others feelings. The word 'whore' was always stuck in my mind more than the others though, because that word seemed to be the height of all insults to throw at a girl, as if it were the worst thing a human being could be. It's almost always associated with women, yet very rarely men. The word is more often thrown towards promiscuous women rather than women who actually sell their bodies, and almost never thrown at men, even if they do sell their bodies. Usually a man's iron clad excuse for having a lot of sex is the simple fact that he is a man, but what if a man actually does sell his body? What if a boy sells his body? Is he a whore?

I certainly though I was a whore and a large part of me was proud of it. I liked having a title, "Kurt Hummel, the whore." I liked having names to throw at myself. I enjoyed hating myself. However, I often felt a twinge of defiance and shame whenever I heard the word thrown away casually, and I couldn't help thinking, 'if only they knew…"

Of course no one knew except the people who walked in and out of that dingy old shed, and of course, Blaine.

Blaine and I hung out every day for the week leading up to the first day of school. I would head over to Ethan's in the morning and do what I needed to do and buy whatever drugs I was running low on, then I would rush home in time to meet Blaine who would drive to my house at 12 each day. Since Blaine had his license, I sometimes had to physically restrain myself from begging him to give me rides to Ethan, but something inside of me knew that I would be taking advantage of Blaine if I did, and I didn't want to do that.

It seemed such an unlikely friendship, the nerdy, dapper schoolboy and the drug addicted gay whore. I never voiced it out loud, not wanting to jinx it, and flinching at just the thought of what Blaine would say if he knew what I called myself inside my head. Most of the time it seemed Blaine was just putting up with me, because I refused to tame myself down in his presence.

But every now and then Blaine and I would have moments that would both thrill us and scare us completely. Sometimes we would find ourselves laughing together and staring into each other's eyes, and in those moments I was no longer Kurt Hummel the drug addicted whore, but Kurt Hummel the scared, innocent boy who just wanted a friend. That strange veil that separated me from the rest of the world and trapped me inside my own mind seemed to expand, wrapping both Blaine and I in a bubble, separate from the world yet linked together tightly. I would see Blaine's eyes change too, but I could never place what it was. I wanted to know the mysteries behind those eyes, and I wanted to see the monsters that lurked in Blaine's mind and see if they were anything like the ones that had taken over mine. Those moments were so intimate and so special that usually we would spend a whole hour caught up in them in silent relaxation, for words were too mundane to capture this strange sensation that existed between us.

Sometimes we would take walks outside, going nowhere in particular but always pretending otherwise in the fear that the other would get freaked out. These walks were another one of those special moments because it always seemed so comfortable, as if we had known each other for years, not days.

Blaine had even said during one long walk "I think it's really awesome that we can just walk together in silence. You know, were close enough that we don't feel the need to talk to each other in order to be together."

And it was true, although we had only been friends for a few days, Blaine had already seen parts of myself I had been hiding even from my own mind, and it was both terrifying and thrilling. I had also seen parts of Blaine that would have seemed so mundane to the outside world, but which Blaine tried to hide, and that he was apparently ashamed of. Things like the way he laughed loudly with a large goofy grin whenever he couldn't help loosing himself, or the way he talked with an innocent lisp every time he felt shy of bashful. Sometimes he would say powerful things that showed strong emotion, and then immediately be ashamed of them. He would say cheesy things but they always seemed so… Blaine. I wished he wouldn't suppress them because they were so beautiful that sometimes, I even wished I could know what they would sound like if I were sober.

I believe that if it weren't for those moments, our friendship would not have lasted longer than a few days, for without those moments; Blaine would have never known that I was never what I seemed to be on the outside.

Blaine was smarter than he liked to tell people. He noticed things other people didn't, just like me. He heard the way I talked about Ethan and he had heard enough to gather that sex for money and drugs was a more than casual occurrence. Sometimes Blaine would ask me why I did it, but my answer was always the same.

"Free drugs, Blaine. Free!" I would say.

"How is that free?" he would always ask incredulously.

I never understood what he meant.

My sophomore year had started and I of course had spent the very first day floating from class to class, completely oblivious to all around me, yet I did notice puck looking at me as though I had gone mad. I thought how silly it was that this surprised him, of course I was mad.

I had been startled, but a little too high to react when Blaine informed me during lunch the first day of school that he was a junior.

"You're older than me?" I said, trying to decide whether Blaine's ears were usually so tiny, while still trying to concentrate on what Blaine was saying.

"Yah, look Kurt I really don't think you should come to school… you know. A teacher might see you and you can get into real trouble."

"M'fine." I said, taking a sip of milk and immediately deciding it was the most delicious thing to ever graze my lips, but then I remembered the taste of Blaine…

"Kurt, please stop staring at my lips." Blaine said blushing, and I looked down at my plate, actually blushing in turn. "Look, this girl I know, Samantha, is throwing a back to school party and I told her I'd go. Would you come with me?"

I looked up at him, smiling widely and feeling my mind clear slightly. "Like a date?"

"Uhm actually… Kurt look please don't get angry but…" Blaine took a deep breath and looked me in the face with large, sad eyes. "Samantha is going to be my date. I just wanted you to come."

"Samantha… as in a girl." I said, trying to process the information.

"Yes. She likes me and I like… I like her too. She's nice and pretty and I know I said that I was… you know, but I just can't be Kurt. It would tear apart my life and dating Samantha would be easy. It's good for me."

I wanted to say 'I can be your life' but then I realized I'm already as torn apart as Blaine thinks being gay would do to his life. I wanted to tell Blaine he was being stupid, that he should be with me because we were perfect for each other, but then I realized someone as kind and gentle as Blaine would never deserve a whore.

"Blaine," I said, horrified to hear my voice high and cracked "please you can't… you can't date a girl. I…" I stood up suddenly and said "I've got to go."

Although lunch was barely halfway over, my tray was gone and so was I in seconds, and I was off to take a few puffs off my joint before next period to try and erase the horrible void of loneliness that was tearing open my chest, as it hadn't don't since the day Blaine had come over to take care of me.

O.o.O

Once I had gotten sober, or at least as sober as one could be after 3 codeines and only the afterglow of weed in effect, I called Blaine and had to fight him down from the steady stream of apologies wafting in from the telephone.

"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine! It's alright okay? Are you… ugh are you still planning on going with that girl?"

"Kurt I'm so sorry I have to and I just wish it would be okay but it can't and I'm sorry!" babbled Blaine, making absolutely no sense to me.

"Look. I'll go with you okay? I'll… I'll come and I'll even make sure I'm relatively sober."

I had no idea why that had come out of my mouth. Blaine would still have wanted me to come even if I were on 3 lines of coke and a rock or two of crack, so there was no use in me saying I would be relatively sober. The only possible good to come out of it was that Blaine would be happy, and although the idea of Blaine being happy while I sat on the sidelines sober and depressed was a terrifying one, it was also so much better than Blaine being unhappy. I had just given up being high, or at least being very high, in order to protect Blaine's happiness. I had no idea what was going on. Despite the fact that he did not want me and despite the fact he wanted to date a girl more than he wanted to date me, I was still willing to give up something that made me happy in order to make Blaine feel good.

There was a long silence on the other end, and then a feeble voice said "You would do that for me?"

"Of course I would. I mean you know I can't go off the codeine but I can go off the rest for one night, and Ethan can go fuck himself if he thinks id give up a night with you to let him treat me like property. When's the party?"

So the party was set for Friday night and Blaine would be picking me up at 6 and he would meet up with 'Sammy' at her house. Apparently there would be alcohol, and Blaine was worried that I would abandon myself, but I merely laughed and told him he had nothing to worry about, except maybe finding me throwing up due to the rancid fumes.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you." Said Blaine, and I nearly fell off my bed. What in the world was Blaine talking about?

"Did you steel some of my codeine?" I asked seriously, completely unable to find another explanation for such a strange statement.

Blaine only laughed and said "No Kurt, I'm serious. I know there's a wonderful person beneath all this… stuff you've buried yourself in. why else would you give up a night of drugs to accompany me to some lame party, so incredibly tame by your standards, probably."

I had absolutely no idea what to say, so I just babbled the first thing to come to my mind. "I've never been to a party, so doubt I could actually have standards."

O.o.O

I had to admit that Blaine was right; this party was lame and ridiculous. By 'party' this 'Sammy' girl must have meant 7 or 8 people sitting in an expensive living room watching Tim Burton movies until the late hour of 10 o'clock. Sometimes I really did forget how different I was from people my age.

By alcohol, 'Sammy' meant a few six packs of beer. I spent the entire night rolling my eyes in an armchair in the corner and trying to ignore the strange looks I was getting from everyone in the room except Blaine.

Blaine was snuggled up with 'Sammy' on the couch, looking supremely uncomfortable but obviously trying to hide it. Half way through the last film of the night, the two began kissing, Sammy giggling squeakily all the while. I tried my hardest not to begin throwing things, reminding myself over and over again that tonight was for Blaine, not for me. I was going to be happy for him and I was not going to complain. I was so happy that 10 o'clock came that I was out of my seat and by the door waiting for Blaine impatiently the second my phone said 10:00, thankfully out of sight of any good bye kissed from Sammy.

In my opinion, it had been the longest, most boring night of my entire life, and it was obvious Blaine thought so as well. He had rushed to the car and sped out of the driveway, saying 'oh my god' on repeat as he did so.

"So you like this Sammy girl?" I said irritably.

"Kurt, please." Said Blaine, eyes fixed determinately on the road.

"Blaine tonight was pathetic and I know you agree."

"Look Kurt, it's my parents who set me up with her okay? I have to be with her okay I just… damn it!" he slammed on the breaks, almost running a red light. "Sorry."

I looked over at him, seeing the sadness in his eyes and the apparent shame and guilt for the night's events, and my heart softened. I hated sing that look on Blaine's face.

"Hey, no it's okay Blaine don't worry about it. Let's just get home… you can stay at my house if you like? Tell your parents Sammy's holing a sleepover or something; I'm sure they'd like that."

Blaine looked over at me as though he couldn't believe his ears.

"What?"

"Nothing… its fine. Are you sure I can stay over?" Blaine said quickly.

"Of course, but what was that face for?"

Blaine laughed humorously. "Fine, fine I just though… after tonight I just thought you probably wouldn't want to hang out with me anymore."Blaine blushed, his eyes fixed back on the road now that the light had gone green again.

"Me? Not want to be friends with you? I swear Blaine every time words come out of your mouth I have to take a second to make sure I'm not just hearing things."

O.o.O

That night as Blaine and I sat on my bed, Blaine insisting we work on some of my homework I had yet to do from the previous week, I couldn't help staring at the different lines of Blaine's face. I thought it was beautiful how his eyelashes rested on his cheekbones whenever he closed his eyes, and how his lips looked, slightly open whenever he tried to concentrate. Though we had initially tried to do homework, the only thing we managed to do was talk about anything and everything.

"-and he's always trying to sell me laced weed and I keep thinking, why? I mean aren't dealers suppose to give you crappy weed when they know you'll take it anyway, not give you laced shit all the time? I thought they were supposed to keep it for themselves, but whatever. You know to be honest I think Ethan used to be a lot like me."

"How do you mean?" asked Blaine, genuine curiosity on his face.

"Well sometimes the way he looks at me… it's as if he's waiting for me to do something. As if he knows what I'm going through and he's waiting for me to do what he did. I think that's why he's always so pissed at me, because I'm not giving up. I think that's what he did."

"What do you mean give up?"

"You know like… run away. Get clean… become a respectable part of the community. Personally I think he was just as much a whore as I am now when he was younger."

"Don't call yourself that!" said Blaine, flaring up at once.

"Blaine, there really is no denying it at this point, don't you think? I gave 2 blowjobs this morning, and that's just today."

"Why are you trying to prove it? Shouldn't you be trying to prove you're not? Kurt you're a sophomore in high school… you-"

But I cut him off. "Blaine, seriously if you're going to make fun of me than…" I wasn't quite sure what to say, the last thing I wanted was for Blaine to leave, but Blaine was the first person I had spoken too as if I were by myself, without my walls, and I was not about to let him criticize me for it.

"Sorry…" said Blaine feebly. An awkward silence stretched between us for a few minutes, and then Blaine said "why did you do it? Cutting, I mean." He added at my raised eyebrow. "You don't do it anymore… I don't think."

"It lost its edge." I said with my eyes downcast. "It made things easier to think about. Like organizing my mind a little bit. Instead of always remembering everything that hurt me, I could just look at a scar and it would be like everything compact together. It was calming I suppose… and it made me smile. I know that sounds pathetic but it did."

"What changed?" Blaine's voice was soft, and he was staring at my left arm with an unreadable expression.

"I have no idea. It just stopped working. That's when I met… well that's when I met Ethan and his friends, anyway."

"Kurt…" Blaine whispered, obviously conflicted. "I just… well there's something I want to tell you but I've never told anyone and-"

"That you're gay?" I laughed humorously, still bitter because of Blaine's "I'm dating a girl' crap.

"no." he stated hoarsely. "For a few years now I've been… look I'm not proud of it but ever since I saw your arm I've just been having a lot of confusing feelings and I just want to tell someone so bad and- " He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes, but then seemed unable to do it so he looked back down at his hands again. "I've been doing what you did. You know…"

"Cutting?" I guessed, my heart rate rising slightly. I never really considered the possibility that someone other than me would ever… it never even crossed my mind. And Blaine cutting? That was a simply abstract concept, but of course Blaine never ceased to surprise me. The longing looks at my codeine bottle, the frantic attempt to convince himself he's straight, now this…

Blaine nodded, and I saw a tear fall from his eyelashes and onto his hands.

I reached over and put my hands on his. He looked up into my eyes, and there was an intimacy between us that sent a shiver down my spine. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm ashamed Kurt! You wear your pain so proudly on your sleeve but I just can't. I'm ashamed that I'm… you know, it's why I went out with that girl tonight, and I'm ashamed that I hurt myself because what would people think of me?" Blaine was crying openly now, and all I could do was pull him towards me so he was sobbing into my side. "My dad s-saw them once and he slapped m-me across the face and told me if I ever did it again he would send me to b-boarding school! I tried to stop but what he said only made it worse and I just can't… I don't want to become like…" Blaine stopped, crying to my shoulder, and I comforted him.

I knew what Blaine had wanted to say. 'I don't want to become like you.' The unsaid words stung, but I knew that they were only the innocent truth. I cared about Blaine, so although his thoughts hurt me, although his actions tonight had hurt me, I rubbed his arms and whispered "it's okay" into Blaine's ear over and over again until we ended up lying down, drowsing off into a deep sleep. As we lay their intertwined, Blaine's breathe hot against my side, I thought about Blaine. I thought about what could ever make him think that hurting himself would be a good idea, and I hurt inside thinking that someone as innocent and good as Blaine would ever cause themselves pain.

A/N- okay yes I know my author's notes are embarrassingly long, but I just have a question for people reading my story. Blaine's parallel in my life had an extremely difficult and distinct mental disorder, I'm not going to say what until I put it into the story or if I don't put it into the story, if anyone asks. But my question is, would you guys like me to add it to Blaine's character in this story, or do you think it would be too much?