It took me really long to post this, I'm sorry. I'm busy with another writing project right now - perhaps some of you know this, it's called NaNoWriMo. If you haven't heard of it and love to write - look it up! It's really fun. Now... Enjoy!
Oh, by the way. I didn't really want to ask this, but could you please review? I really want to know what you think about my writing style and such things. Just curious. Even if you say it sucks, that's okay. It would just be nice to have some comments. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and the quotes above the chapters belong to the show. I do not own the songs. I do own the main character, though.

Song(s) used: 'You've got a friend' - James Taylor

The Break-Up

"Just because I hate everybody doesn't mean they have to hate me too."

Okay. She now understood what really feeling like crap was. Her stomach growled the whole time - despite the free lunch Marley and Jake had been talking about -, she was burning up - there was even some sweat rolling over her forehead - and she had to keep herself from coughing all the time - her lungs were on fire. She had taken a look in the mirror of the girls toilets that morning. Her cheeks were sunken, there were bags under her eyes, her skin was pale and greyish. Her green eyes still had the same 'you can't bring me down'-expression, but her view was slightly blurred and she didn't dare to stand longer than a few minutes on her feet.

Still, though, she had the feeling karma was taking it easy on her. She had been keeping an eye on Blaine. He didn't seem to be too calm and steady - not as he had been claiming he was. Marie-Claire decided that she indeed would never start a relation. It was clearly hard to deal with a boyfriend or a girlfriend longer than an hour away. She saw both Blaine and Brittany fading away. Now the latter had her girl in town, but Blaine seemed even more ill than herself, walking with a mobile phone plastered to his ear, but always a frown on his face.

"Hey, killer!"

He was walking through the hallway, once again roughly putting the phone back in his pocket with a sad expression. She had managed to say the words without coughing - this made her feel quite proud of herself - but now, since Blaine didn't stop walking, she had to keep up with his pace. That was way easier said than done. She wandered forward, waving slightly.

"Blaine."

He slowed down, looked over his shoulder. She saw his frown deepen when he watched her struggling to walk. Within a second, he was standing next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"You're ill," he muttered.

"Great conclusion, gayboy." She rolled her eyes - but that only caused another wave of dizziness.

"Let's sit down somewhere," Blaine said, guiding her towards the choir room. They quietly made their way over to the chairs, where they indeed sat down, as he had said. But she wasn't going to let him talk - there was something she needed to fix here. Her own pathetic problems could wait for a while. Or just forever, since she wasn't going to talk about them.

She took a breath. "Look, you need to go and see Kurt."

Silence.

"I'm serious, Blaine. I overheard your conversation a little while ago, when gay face was wandering around in this fucking school, not knowing where to go with his life. You helped him, send him away. Now, he's found his place in just another big city and he's forgetting the boyfriend who helped him realize where he needed to go. It's my turn now. You need to go to New York. Not permanently - but you need to see Kurt, because this is killing you." Wow. She actually sounded like she had feelings.

"He's not answering any of my -"

"Cut the crap. If he's really your girlfriend, he will be happy to see you. Face him."

"Claire, I don't think I can..."

"Why not?"

"Something happened..."

"What?"

"I was with ..." Blaine broke down, crying.

"Damn..." she whispered, looking at the sobbing boy in front of her. He covered his eyes with his hands, but the tears came through his fingers anyway. He made no sound, but she didn't need any. Yet - instead of hugging and comforting him, like anyone would have done - she moved away a little. "Was it Sebastian?" she sighed.

"What? No!"

"Ah, good, at least I won't have to punch my own brother."

"You should punch me."

"You should go to New York."

"Still?"

"Yeah." She looked him right in the eye. His - quite beautiful, she had to agree with her brother - eyes. They were red and puffy, tears still leaking out of them. A sigh escaped her lips. Again. She wondered why she was doing this. Only because Sam told her to be nice, or just because she liked Blaine? She had to admit the guy was nice. Sebastian had finally picked a good one, though she still didn't fully understand his reasons. Her hand went in the pockets of her jeans. "Here." She handed Blaine the phone, glad she hadn't sold it yet, though she was out of money. "Add you number."

He looked honored. Was she that bad? With a distant look, he scrolled through her contacts. "Why are there Warblers in this?"

"Sebastian is my brother." And he was a Warbler. And Warblers were way too social.

Blaine nodded. "And why are there only Warblers in this? And ... Puck?"

"Since I don't need anyone's number."

"You need mine now?"

"You're fucked up, about to have a break-down with the one who used to comfort you probably opposing you. I think you are the one that needs my number, not the other way around," she pointed out harshly. Being nicer than usual didn't mean she suddenly had become a nice, sweet kitty. Nope. She still had some pretty good claws. And teeth. And eyes. With the latter, miracles could happen.

"You need mine too, are you ill?" Blaine didn't wait for an answer. "I can't just leave you ill."

"Hell, of course you can't. Point one - I'm a Smythe. Point two - it's not like I'm your girlfriend. Point three - I hate it when people fuss about me. Blaine, shut the fuck up about me being ill. This will go away in a day." If she treated it well. Which she couldn't. "Go buy a ticket, go to New York. Make yourself feel better, come back laughing as usual. Then I can send my brother your way to teach you that if you cheat on your girlfriend, you do it with him."

Blaine kept silent.

She walked towards the guitars in the corner of the room, tried one. It was tuned. Blaine looked at her with confusion written all over his face. "What? You New Directions guys sing about your pathetic feelings, right? Well, since I'm a loser now too, I should do it right." She could play guitar pretty well - no talent to be found in her, but she was musical and had practiced a long time. Good enough. She might need a few lessons, which she wouldn't get, but right now, she could play a song.

When you're down and troubled and you need a helping hand
and nothing, whoa, nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there to brighten up even your darkest nights.

You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there, yeah, yeah,
you've got a friend.

If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow,
keep your head together and call my name out loud.
Soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call and I'll be there.

Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend? People can be so cold.
They'll hurt you and desert you. Well, they'll take your soul if you let them,
oh yeah, but don't you let them.

You just call out my name, and you know where ever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call, Lord, I'll be there, yeah, yeah,
you've got a friend. You've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend. Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
Oh, yeah, yeah, you've got a friend.

She had changed her definition of 'friend'.

Instead of calling no one her friends except for her perverted brother, she now had a few friends, and that actually made her feel quite good. Apart from Blaine, she had also added Trent, Jeff, Nick, Marley and even Puck to the group. People who liked her, could put up with her. And of course - she liked them back. Not that she ever would admit it to them, but they were the only people she might care about when they would lie in the hospital dying. Perhaps.

Still, though, this change did not explain why she was sitting in a cafe while it suddenly was deserted, left behind by the large group of pure loser that just had been sitting on the benches. Only some clothes were left behind and an Asian girl - not Tina, though, but her little slave - came running in, didn't notice Marie-Claire and began to hyperventilate. The brown haired girl watched, amused, while others came inside again. She had no idea what just had happened, but somehow she was once again pulled into a 'relationship on the edge'-conversation.

This time, there were actually two. Marley finally said something to Jake - this was about time, Marie-Claire didn't like how they acted to each other. Marley ignoring her feelings was perhaps right, because she really needed to get rid of her young love, but Jake being as asshole and choosing not only one of the most ugly cheerios around, just annoyed her. The other two who were talking, were no one else than Santana and Brittany, the famous first lesbian couple of McKinley High.

Oh, how she hated the school.

She was actually interested in the conversation, though. Okay, Brittany was exaggerating - a whole damn lot - and Santana hardly said anything, but the Smythe was fascinated by the Latina. She was hot, Marie-Claire had to admit. But she hadn't heard any good comments yet. Well, okay, she agreed with the cheerleader than leaving would be the best idea for the couple, but that was all.

Marie-Claire had been drinking a coffee - yes, she had washed some dishes for it - when she noticed the group of students, including the couples. She slowly raised and walked towards Santana, while Brittany rushed away. "Good job," she heard her voice saying. The look full of thunder was just what she had been expecting. She shrugged. "You're Santana right?"

"And you're Smythe's little sister?" came the response.

"I prefer to be called Marie-Claire."

"Has he ever fucked you?"

Claire raised her eyebrows. "He's gay."

"Well, I'm lesbian and I've fucked guys."

"Not family, I hope," Marie-Claire muttered.

"So, what the fuck do you want from me? I don't see any rock-salt near."

"Yeah, and you just noted that I'm the younger sister, not the gay guy asshole." She crossed her arms.

"True."

"I just wanted to meet the famous bitch of the school," Marie-Claire said. She actually didn't know why she had approached the girl, but it didn't really bother her. She liked a talk with the cheerleader. "The Glee losers have chosen me as the second Santana. I'll see if I take it as insult or compliment." She had to admit that Santana didn't even blink, even though she practically told the girl she had been replaced. "Look, relationships go kind of shitty in this school. Good luck with fixing that ..." Perhaps she shouldn't insult the blonde. "... cheerleader. You must have heard about her Britney-breakdown. You might thank the stripper, too."

She walked away.

"Why is there a guy crying in Schue's office?" she asked Blaine.

The boy paled. He had told her about what happened in New York. She couldn't say she was surprised, though she had thought Blaine would find a way to fix things with his puppy eyes. Surely those had to be irresistible to gay face, but apparently not. She sighed - she had decided not to go all pussy on Blaine. He needed to get over it himself, yet every time she said something, he seemed to winch. He had been concerned about her, though she felt a bit better. The mother of Marley had given her some more lunch that usual, telling her she was too skinny. If only she could borrow some of the fat of the lunch lady.

Luckily Marley couldn't read minds.

"I'll see you," Blaine said distantly, before walking away.

When she entered the choir room, she was just in time to see Sam hugging the same guy that had been in William Shuesters office. She frowned, but didn't say anything. The others greeted the guy - who looked as if he was constantly on the drugs - excitedly. Even Tina. For the first time, Marie-Claire saw the Asian girl having a kind expression. That faded away quickly, though. She sat down, keeping an eye on the newcomer - though she figured he was an alumni - while getting handed a paper.

His name was Finn, she remembered just before Sam told them. The guy apparently had had some good ideas back in school, because they were all very excited when he told them about Grease. "Guys like it. Girls like it. People like my mum like it. It's about high school, and growing up, and being true to yourself -"

"Oh, hell no, an emotion one..." she muttered, receiving some glances.

"- and most songs rock."

Grease it was.

She now understood why Santana impressed Sebastian.

If someone was sex on a stick and sang like a dream, it was Santana. She raised her eyebrows, sliding on the ground next to the choir room, being unnoticed by the couple inside. She wondered how many minutes it would take them to break up. Marie-Claire covered her face in her hands. She still felt ill, but now something else was added. Jealously? Emptiness? She just wanted someone. Someone to hold her, someone to comfort her. Someone to kiss her. She plainly wanted someone who loved her.

Brittany ran out of the room, crying.

Santana followed, but she noticed Marie-Claire.

"What the fuck? Why were you listening?!" she screamed suddenly.

Claire winced. She never meant to wince, but she did. Santana didn't shout anymore, though. She lowered herself and put her hand on Marie-Claire's forehead, frowning in concern. "You are way too hot."

"You look quite good yourself," the Smythe responded, shivering. She pulled at her jacket, trying to get warmer, but it didn't help.

"You're ill," Santana concluded.

"No shit..." she muttered.

The Latina rolled her eyes and looked helpless around her. "I'm not going to help, you know. My whole fucking life has just been ruined and you were a witness of it. I should go all Lima Heights on your ass right now." She didn't. She stayed where she was. "Where's Blaine...?" she whispered, but both the girls knew the dark haired guy shouldn't be burdened by anything. "Give me your phone."

"What?"

"Give me your phone."

Marie-Claire felt like crap. At the moment, she saw practically nothing, her head hurt like hell and her whole body ached. She was through. So, without any more protests, she managed to get the iPhone out of her pocket, handing it over to Santana, once again being surprised by an alumni and ex-New Directions members. Puck had been the first one, and this so called bitch shocked her even more. Instead of insulting her, she now helped her - despite saying she wasn't.

"What the fuck - why do you know Puck?" the cheerleader asked.

"I got him out of a closet."

Santana shot her a look.

"Not that one."

"I'll call your perverted brother," Santana decided.

"No." Marie-Claire raised - unsteadily, but she could stand. She put a hand on the iPhone and pulled it away from Santana, who looked at her with a confused face. "I'll be fine," she explained. The Latina just crossed her arms.

"Fucking hell, you won't be fine. Look - maybe you are the new me. Then, I get what you want. No concern, no worries, no one looking after you. Then suddenly, you need someone and that person isn't there. Well, I don't have a brother or sister who I can call. I had Brittany, but not anymore. I've got parents, but they don't want to know who I'm fucking and who not, so that won't work out either. You have got that fucking Smythe - be glad. I suppose he can be a nice brother, sending bullies to the hospital with some rock-salt." Santana huffed, grabbed the phone and dialed a number.

His number.

"Andrew McCarthy. Look, you might be a fucked up asshole, but just show some emotion and get your sister out of this loser school before she faints."

Santana hung up.

"Ah, nice way to voice it," Marie-Claire murmured.

The following time went fast. She dozed off a few times, but every time she opened her eyes and the light pained her, Santana was still around. Claire wondered why the Latina stayed. She had just broken up with her girlfriend and should be heartbroken. She was heartbroken. But perhaps taking care of a total stranger took your thoughts of your sorrow. It didn't matter. She was sitting in the filthy hallway, still leaning to the wall, hardly able to keep her eyes open. She truly felt like crap.

There were voices. Out of nowhere, her brother put his arms around her, lifted her. She felt the warmth of his body against her. Without thinking, she buried her face in his shoulder. Her body ached were he had put his hands - the memory of her father was still visible on her body, though she had managed to keep it covered up from everybody. It wouldn't take Sebastian long to notice.

"Seb..." she whispered. "You were right. She's hot."

"Fucking hell, MC. Go to sleep. You should have told me, bitch."

"Yeah, love you too."