Blaine thumped down unto his back on the bed, untangling his legs from the waist hovering above him.

The waist was thin, and muscular, which was quite an improvement seeing what kind of men usually was panting above him. Not that it mattered, Blaine wasn´t one to dwell over looks. He wasn´t very picky.

Then man, now tiredly resting his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of the bed, rose up lazily while putting on the boxers that had crash landed on the chair on the other side of the room about half an hour ago.

Blaine placed his hands behind his head, quietly watching him as he dressed while bobbing his foot to a nonexistent beat.

The man... What ever his name was, turned to him as he zipped up his jeans and started walking towards him.

"That was great, I´d love doing it again sometime." He said with a smug smirk on his lips. Blaine gave him a indifferent shrug and a crooked smile.

"Yeah, sure." He yawned and then pointed towards the door.

"Don´t let the door hit you on the way out."

The man stopped dead in his advancing and rose his eyebrows slightly, but turned and walked out, carefully closing the door behind him.

Blaine perked his ears, listening for the sound of the front door and relaxed back into the pillows as he heard it shut.

He closed his eyes and relished in the silence for a second but soon got bored and snapped up, clapping his hands on his legs. He restlessly started drumming his fingers against his thighs, the silence suddenly feeling oppressive.

He couldn´t stand silence anymore. Not since he got free from those bastards. One would think he would want peace and quite with what he had been through, but it was the complete opposite. He couldn´t be still for more than 5 minutes, unless he was sleeping of course. Which, if he was going to be honest, didn´t do much anyway.

He wouldn´t say he missed the sound of moans and screaming but somehow, he felt uneasy without it. Whenever it got to quite, or to calm, he would feel this growing bubble of angst flaring up in his chest, making him jumpy and restless.

So that´s why he brought home countless men to his apartment, fucking like rabbits until they where too tired move, then he kicked them out. He wasn´t much of a cuddler. He actually found it rather unnecessary and unnerving.

The first year after he got out was the worse. He had even started working at a strip club/ brothel since he couldn´t stand the tranquility of his parents house. But he ended up getting kicked out. Both from the club and his home.

He got fired from the club because he started doing things free of charge, apparently that wasn´t a hit. But Blaine didn´t exactly need the money, his parents, even though they kicked him out, was giving him a fair amount of money every month on the request that he got his fagot ass as far away from them as possible.

Sure, he hadn´t been the most loving son when he had gotten home, sneaking out on nightly fuck-adventures , bringing home strange guys, letting his parents listen to his slamming headboard and being generally rude.

But they had blamed him. Mostly his father, saying he had liked getting raped and fucked on daily basis while captivated. He even claimed that Blaine had run away to that place on own free will, since he was nothing but a fag. And stated that Blaine was only proving his accusations to be right, seeing as he still was getting ass fucked like the sick fag he was.

So when he turned 18, he was kicked out, and now lived in the fancy part of Westernwill, in one of the big, stylish apartments with high ceilings and ebony floor tiles.

He sighed contentedly as he searched his drawer for something to wear. He was going out tonight. As every other night. Clubs were the best hook up places, especially in this small area. The gay guys are all pretty much desperate seeing as there only are a limited amount of outed gays here and therefore they are very easily picked up. Even though he always let them think it was they who was picking him up. Unless of course he felt like getting some lamb chop action. He enjoyed topping just as much as bottoming.

He found a pair of tight black jeans and a grey, fitting t-shirt that showed his arms in just the right way.

He did a quick nod of approval in the mirror before moving on to his hair. He reached for the gel, but changed his mind just as he was about to put a handful into his hair. He wanted it loose tonight. So instead of gelling it down, he ruffled it with his hands, making it look like he had just gotten out of bed.

Which was true.

Time to party.

"PARTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!"

"WHOOP WHOOP! BIRTHAY BOY COMING FORTH"

"Please Santana, could you not do that?"

Kurt gave the latina a lame attempt at a stern look then moved on to Mercedes that also was rather loud.

"Come ooooon, Kurtsie! Loosen up! Have you even had anything to drink?" Mercedes wailed as she staggered forward on the street, arm in arm with Rachel that was giggling and half running to keep up with Mercedes fast pace.

Kurt shot her another look, this time it was a bit more defeated. He actually hadn´t drunk anything. Whenever they would shove a glass or bottle into his hands he would pretend to drink, but really just spit it out in the bottle again. He didn´t drink. He hated the taste of alcohol since he so many times had been forced to drink while others watched and urged him on with just those words that Mercedes was so loudly exclaiming right now: "You gotta loosen up, sweetcheeks."

Kurt shivered as he remembered. The coarse hands that would tilt the bottle even further so that that Kurt almost choked. How the same hands would travel down, feeling him up as Kurt continued drinking compulsively. The liquid burning his throat but all the while making him feel less, later when the very same bottle would end up somewhere else entirely. Someplace much more painful than his mouth. Hopefully Mercedes was a bit more merciful than that.

"I don´t really like alcohol." He mumbled, but Mercedes didn´t hear him, she was busy trying to walk straight enough to fool the guard she was sober enough to get into the club.

They all stood in front of the guard, waiting to get passed the rope, all waiting for Rachel to show her ID. She was a rather famous Broadway singer in New York, and therefore easily slipped pass the queues along with any of her accompaniment. The guard however didn´t seem to recognize her, and was awfully stubborn. Kurt sighed as he backed to the edge of the group, as far away from Rachel´s loud, drunken complaints as possible.

He leaned against the wall next to the entrance of the club, hearing and feeling the thudding of the music though the walls. He closed his eyes and tried to block his thoughts away wishing desperately that he was home in his bed, sleeping under the covers where it was quite and peaceful.

Just as the thought crossed through his mind, a loud honk was heard as a car slowed in and stopped in front of him, the window opening and a man around his thirties leaning his head out and started catcalling and whistling at Kurt with his friends in the backseat as chorus.

"Oy! Pretty boy, aren´t you looking fine tonight? You for sale or what? You wanna come with us? We could show you a real good time." The man went on and on, his voice boring itself inside Kurt´s head and leaving him paralyzed with fear.

His entire body stiffened and he found that he was unable to move, unable to flee. He let out a soft whimper and closed his eyes again, harder this time, as if trying to will the men away with his mind.

Then he heard another voice. It was far more pleasant and seemingly not directed towards him, but to the men in the car. Kurt opened his eyes.

"Hi gentlemen, looking for some fun?"

The men in the car directed their attention to the new-commer than was currently leaning against their car, with his hand placed above the window of it, leaning down to them, so that all Kurt could see was the back of a dark, curly-haired head. And a leather jacket covered back.

"Yeah that´s what we asked doll-face over there, He seems like a real treat don´t you think?." The man in the front seat jeered, turning his attention to Kurt, winking suggestively at him.

The leather jacket turned his head slightly to the side, but didn´t fully turn around then turned back to the man.

"Oh yeah, defiantly, but he´s stiff like a board and not in a good way, so unless you wanna fuck a dead fish I suggest you go with someone a bit more... Willing."

The new-commer´s voice dropped to a low, seductive one and he leaned closer to the man, making his jeans go down and his jacket go up, revealing a lot of bare skin, which the men in the back seat now payed close attention to.

"Ey, Peter, let´s bring this one home, shall we?" They called to the man in the front seat and then made room for the leather jacket – guy that made quite a show at climbing into the car then sat down, and gave one look out the window before it went up and the last thing Kurt saw was a pair of glowing, hazel colored eyes giving him a knowing look.

The car finally drove of.

"Kurt? Kurt! What are you doing, hun? Get over here, we´re going in!"

Kurt snapped out of his trance and turned his head to Mercedes and the others, that was on their way inside the club, the guard most have finally let them in.

He shook his head, baffled of what had just happened, but managed to follow the other inside on shaky legs. It felt like they would give in any second, but he had to do this for his friends. Or else they would never leave him alone. He had to make them happy.

The club was noisy and crowded and it smelt like sweat and alcohol. People was practically standing on top of each other, rubbing themselves on the person closest to them, or just jumping up and down, which practically was the same thing. The music was thumping loudly, making everything from the floor to the beer bottles on the counter vibrate dully. His head was also a victim of the thumping, but he could endure it. He had been through worse, after all.

Finn and Puck had arrived some time after they all had gotten inside, and was currently dry humping each other on the dance floor, laughing hysterically while doing it. Santana was doing the same thing, but to a significantly less willing Rachel, that looked like she was gravely uncomfortable. Kurt almost laughed. She never have had much sex appeal, that woman. Five years ago, Kurt could have said the same thing about himself. He used to have as much sex appeal as a baby penguin, and was always incredibly naive when it came to sex. People would laugh and think it was adorable back then. Now they just looked at him sadly. Pitying him.

He watched as Mercedes made her way towards him, blissfully unaware of all the people she accidentally bumped into while doing so. She wore a mischievous grin on her face that Kurt knew would come with something bad. And he was right. When she finally made it pass the heavy mass of jumping people Kurt saw she had someone with her. Someone she was currently dragging along with her at the persons wrist. Kurt turned around in his seat, facing the bar again, wishing she wouldn´t find him. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Of course she would see him. He was practically the only one sitting down and with that sitting rather stiffly.

"Kurtsie! Look what I found!" She screamed as she turned Kurt chair around again, so he was facing her and the guy next to her. Kurt eyed him warily, careful not to meet his eyes. He didn´t like eye contact. The guy looked about 25 and was dressed in a pair of tight, low cut jeans with a tight white T-shirt that glowed in the club lights. His hair was carefully styled without it looking overdone, and he was smiling gleefully at Kurt.

"He´s gay like you Kurt!" Mercedes screamed a bit to loudly as she pushed the man forward.

"You must have looooads in common!" She added with a slur, then she turned around skipping towards Puck and Finn who was still dancing like maniacs.

Kurt sighed and forced himself to look up.

"Hello." He forced stiffly. He tried to smile, but it made his face hurt so he stopped.

"Hi there." The man said, a bit more confidently after he sat down next to Kurt. He must have taken the greeting as a invitation. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while, the guy clearing his throat several times. Kurt was probably supposed to say something, he guessed that is how it works but he didn´t know what to say. He never talked to strangers and he didn´t want to start. But he didn´t have to. "I´m Matt." The man said, reaching a hand out for Kurt to shake. He didn´t. "Kurt." He said instead with a forced smile. The man chuckled. "So, you here often?"

Kurt almost laughed. What a cliched question. He shook his head. "I wouldn´t say so, no." He turned to his untouched drink, looking down into the table. The man chuckled again and then Kurt felt a hand on his shoulder. "Loosen up, you´re really stiff." His thumb was rubbing the back of his neck and Kurt shivered in disgust and fear. Matt however seemed to think it was because of something else. "Oh, you like that? Haha, want me to give you a massage? I hear I´m really good." He said into Kurt´s ear, leaning in close and then rose up to stand behind him, pressing his body into Kurt´s back, while rubbing Kurt´s shoulders and stroking his neck.

Kurt immediately went rigid, and it didn´t take more then two seconds before he was on his feet, staring at the man with big eyes."Don´t touch me!" He screamed then turned around and ran. Pass all the dancing people, pass the doors and the guards, away from the thumping music and the heavy scent of alcohol and sweat, away from the suffocating situation he yet again had ended up in. He was so tired. So tired of being so afraid. Tired of the strangling rope around his lungs that never loosened. He was stuck. Bound to fear life forever.