A/N: Rated M. A continuation to 'How I Torture Myself'. Rated M for drinking, depression, infidelity, language, and mention of Blaine/Klaine.

Kurt drags Sebastian up the stairs, stomping loudly on the hollow wood as he trips over his own feet. The sound echoes chaotically off the walls but Kurt has long since stopped caring about whether or not the neighbors hear him. He's not sure what they would do even if his ruckus did bother them. The police don't always come out to this part of Brooklyn no matter how many times you call them; a fact that should probably bother Kurt more than it does. He teeters on the edge of the step and slips forward. His nose stops within inches of hitting the railing and he breaks into a fit of giggles, too drunk to recognize that Sebastian's hand, locked firmly in his, saved him from a black eye and a broken nose. Kurt tugs on Sebastian's arm again as he continues wobbly on his way, turning back when Sebastian stands firmly on the step and doesn't follow.

"Come on," Kurt slurs, playfully pulling on Sebastian's hand, "just a few more steps. You know the way."

Sebastian stands his ground. Kurt's expression sours when he sees his companion isn't about to move.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you spoiled sport?" Kurt frowns at Sebastian's disapproving stare.

"I was just thinking that maybe I should carry you so you don't fall and break your frickin' neck," Sebastian says, climbing up a single step.

"How chivalrous of you," Kurt drawls and his eyes roll dramatically upward. He drops Sebastian's hand, intent on making it up to the loft with or without him, swaying on his feet from the lack of support. He takes a tentative step up but then stumbles back down a few stairs, falling against Sebastian's solid chest.

"Okay, princess…" Sebastian leans forward and lifts Kurt into his arms, "let's get you upstairs before you bust your ass."

Kurt struggles weakly against Sebastian's strong biceps hoisting him into the air. He opens his mouth to object but when Sebastian starts walking up the stairs, holding him closer in his firm embrace, Kurt changes his mind, instead looping his arms around Sebastian's neck and resting against his shoulder. Sebastian glances down at Kurt's face, his eyelids drifting closed as he snuggles into his coat. Kurt's newly haggard appearance worries Sebastian. Kurt has always been such a stickler about his looks – his intense skin care regimen, his eclectic clothing choices, his meticulously styled coiffure, but lately Kurt has let that go to the wayside, or maybe he could care less when he goes out alone in the evening to get his drunk on. If that's not the case, why hasn't Blaine, or Rachel, or one of Kurt's other loyal New Directions friends noticed by now?

Sebastian doesn't bother setting Kurt down as he fumbles with the door handle. He feels the latch beneath his fingers and pulls it, shoving the sliding door aside. That's another thing Kurt has taken to forgetting when he leaves the loft. He doesn't lock the door and he doesn't take his key. He's throwing caution to the wind, basically inviting danger to his doorstep, and even though it shouldn't matter to Sebastian, hiding deep in his bones he finds he has a compulsion to find out why.

Sebastian carries Kurt to his bedroom and dumps him indignantly on the bed, trying not to chuckle when Kurt's eyes pop open in surprise and he lets out a tiny, startled, "oomph!"

"Not that I really give a shit," Sebastian says, sounding as distant as he can, lying to himself that's how he really feels, "but why do you do this?"

"Do what?" Kurt lies on his back and clumsily kicks off his shoes, shooting them one by one haphazardly around the space he calls his room. He stands back up, stumbling over one of them in his haste to grab Sebastian and pull him to the bed, once again his hand locked in Sebastian's grasp the only thing that saves him from landing on his face.

"Drink yourself delusional and then fuck me?"

"Would you rather I drink myself delusional and fuck someone else?" Kurt laughs, but it's not as carefree as his drunken laughter from an hour earlier.

"No," Sebastian says, taking off his coat out of habit and dropping it on a chair by the bed. "I would rather you not drink yourself delusional at all, and we do this the right way."

"And what is the right way for Sebastian Smythe?" Kurt asks, pawing at Sebastian's shirt front in a sloppy attempt at seduction. "In the bathroom at Club Amnesia, or the back alley behind Callbacks?"

"How about a good, old fashioned date?" Sebastian takes Kurt's arms and lowers them from where his fingers almost rip the buttons off Sebastian's Brooks Brothers dress shirt.

"We can't go on a date," Kurt whispers. "I'm engaged." Kurt raises his left hand and wiggles his ring finger in front of Sebastian's face, laughing even as his face crumbles and the tears start to fall.

"Yeah, I can see how much that ring means to you." Sebastian's voice drips with a brand of sarcasm that stings like acid. His words burn and Kurt flinches. "But you know," Sebastian continues, taking Kurt's trembling hand in his, "engagements are negotiable."

Kurt sputters a laugh that sounds more like a sob.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" Sebastian sits on the bed and pulls Kurt into his lap, "that if you really don't want to marry the motherfucker, then you hand him back the ring and you say, 'See ya, loser.'"

"I'll do what I damn well please, Smythe." Kurt attempts to stand up, failing at rearranging his legs and feet in a way that will adequately support his body weight, and lands back in Sebastian's lap. "Besides," Kurt whispers, sounding infinitely more sober, "it's not that easy."

"Bullshit," Sebastian says, pushing Kurt onto the bed and climbing over his body, pinning him to the mattress beneath him. "There's something else. Tell me what it is."

Kurt's solemn eyes, watery blue and swimming from too little sleep and too much tequila, harden as he glares up at Sebastian's condescending face.

"Why the fuck do you care all of a sudden?" Kurt asks. "You don't give a shit about me. What did you say our first time? I'm pretty and convenient? At least Blaine says that he loves me."

Sebastian shakes his head. He wants to be bitter but he can't because Kurt's right. That's exactly what he said. But those words weren't completely true when he said them, and even if they were, things change. Things have been changing

"Kurt, you wouldn't know love if it were looking right at you." Sebastian watches Kurt's face as his eyes drift away - so blank, so pale, so lost. He sighs. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you."

Kurt's hands travel over Sebastian's thighs, toying with his belt buckle, needing the distraction. He hopes if he brushes the uninterested bulge in Sebastian's pants enough that he'll forget all this talk and get to the business of pulling Kurt's pants down around his ankles and fucking him hard.

No such luck, as it turns out, as Sebastian is the soul of patience.

"Rachel's leaving," Kurt says, his eyes rolling up to avoid the scrutiny from Sebastian's expectant eyes, "and Blaine's going with her."

Sebastian waits for a second, quietly letting his mind absorb Kurt's words and for once trying to determine the most tactful way to proceed.

"Where are they going?" Sebastian asks. He knows it's not his place to ask. It's actually none of his business, but he's not ashamed of prying. There's a splinter of fear in his need to know. If Blaine leaves New York that most likely means Kurt will go with him, and for ways and means that he can't find words to express, he doesn't want that to happen.

"Los Angeles."

Sebastian crawls off Kurt's body and sits back on the edge of the bed, giving Kurt space to sit up.

"When did this all happen?"

"A few weeks ago." Kurt sits beside Sebastian but he doesn't turn his face to speak directly to him. Instead he looks down at the cerulean socks on his feet, swinging his legs back and forth as he kicks the frame of the bed. "Some director or producer or some 'er' of some kind saw Rachel at the theater performing in Funny Girl. I guess he talked to her after the show and decided she was so darned interesting that he wanted to make a sitcom about her life." Kurt pauses for a moment to take a breath and finally lifts his head to meet Sebastian's eyes. "They sent a writer down to hang with her, follow her around, get a feel for what she does and the people she calls her friends, and well, they liked Blaine. A lot. They cast him as her plucky best friend."

Kurt makes a disgusted face and plops back on the bed.

"Wait…" Sebastian spreads out on his side beside Kurt, "aren't you the plucky best friend?"

"I was." Kurt bites his lip, staring at the ceiling. "It's a character based on me, but Blaine's playing him."

Kurt rolls on his side to face Sebastian, eyes red-rimmed, veins spider-webbing out over the whites while he tries too hard to force a nonchalant grin on his face.

"Piece by piece he was taking over my life," Kurt says with a bitter laugh, "and now he literally has it."

Sebastian has a strong urge to tell Kurt to man up, to stop whining and feeling sorry for himself, and in any other situation he would, but on another level he sympathizes with Kurt. He knows what it feels like to be the better man and still not be good enough. He knows what it's like to want something that's constantly being pulled away, farther and farther until all hope of catching it disappears.

He knows what it's like to have a dream and to watch it get stolen out from beneath his nose.

Strangely enough, he and Kurt are having something they desperately want usurped by the same man.

"So…what does this mean for you guys?" Sebastian doesn't want to sound invested, but he also doesn't want to beat around the bush. If Kurt is leaving to follow his self-serving fiancé to California, then Sebastian wants to come up with a plan of attack, but he can't seem to decide between talking Kurt out of leaving or cutting all ties and start drinking himself delusional like Kurt's been doing.

Kurt stares at Sebastian blankly, as if he didn't quite understand the question, or maybe like Sebastian is crazy for asking.

"Are you going with him?"

"I should…shouldn't I."

It's part statement, part question, and the more vague and cryptic Kurt seems to sound, the more Sebastian really understands. Sebastian and Kurt started their tryst because they both needed someone to fuck, but not out of love or any kind of mutual affection, but as a means of escape. Ironically enough, Sebastian was trying to escape his long standing obsession with Kurt. He knew Kurt would probably never love him, but he would take him any way he could get him. He hoped that after enough of Kurt's sass and attitude he'd have as much of him as he could take and finally learn how to hate him.

All those things made Sebastian want Kurt more.

Kurt was trying to escape the life he had made for himself and Blaine.

Kurt gave Blaine a place to stay, practically padded his acceptance into NYADA, handed him opportunity after opportunity, even if not entirely intentionally but that wasn't supposed to matter because they were a team. They were running a race together.

Blaine gave Kurt a ring that had started to feel like a noose around Kurt's neck.

"Kurt," Sebastian says so softly his voice doesn't even sound like his own, "do you want to go to California?"

Kurt doesn't seem to hear him. He's staring off at a spot in the distance now, on the curtain to his room, or maybe past his room to the front door, or somewhere in his mind that Sebastian can't reach.

"Being on Broadway has always been my dream," Kurt mutters under his breath. He looks broken. He must have already agreed to go, Sebastian thinks, and now that he's had a moment to come to terms with his decision he's watching his dream fall apart in front of his eyes.

"Kurt, listen to me," Sebastian says, urgently trying to bring Kurt back from the void before he shatters completely, "don't go. Don't give up your dream. You worked hard to get here. You got into a school some people would kill to go to. Don't give up your life for his."

"How?" Kurt's voice is barely louder than a breath. "How am I going to stay here? I can't afford this loft on my own. I can't even afford the dorms. It's like Blaine said, if I don't go, I'll just end up back in Lima."

Sebastian's blood starts to boil in his veins. Blaine really pulled out all the stops, saying whatever he knew would make Kurt bend. Kurt swore he wouldn't go back to Ohio and be a Lima Loser. Sebastian can't begin to imagine what else he threw in Kurt's face to make him agree to surrender his dreams.

"Stay with me," Sebastian blurts out, not thinking before the words left his mouth, but now that they did he has no intention of taking them back. "Move in with me. Go out with me…or don't, just don't leave for him. You'll regret it, Kurt. You know I'm right."

Something in Kurt's brain snaps and he's on his knees, crossing the bed and climbing into Sebastian's lap. He attacks Sebastian's neck, too rough, more teeth than lips and tongue as he kisses him, fingers pushing the buttons of Sebastian's shirt through their holes.

"Kurt…" Sebastian snatches Kurt's wrists and holds them tight.

"No." Kurt pulls to be free of Sebastian's grasp. "We're not talking about this. That's not why you're here."

"I think this might be a little more important than sex right now," Sebastian demands, pushing Kurt off of his lap and standing to hold him at arm's length.

Kurt pulls again, tugging left and right, using all his strength to break free but Sebastian is just a bit stronger.

"Y-you said you'd never say no to me!" Kurt sobs.

"I'm not saying no," Sebastian says, fighting to stay calm.

"You said you'd never leave me!"

"I haven't gone anywhere, have I!?"

Sebastian lets go of Kurt's arms and Kurt shoves him back with as much strength as he can muster. Sebastian stumbles with the force and the backs of his knees hit the bed, but he manages to keep his balance. Kurt swings at him, hitting his chest, his neck, his shoulder; hitting him hard.

"What are you going to do, Kurt?" Sebastian lets Kurt hit him, gritting his teeth through the harder punches, waiting for Kurt to tire out. "Are you going to force yourself on me? Are you going to beat me up?"

"Fuck you!" Kurt growls, but his arms grow weak, and when the next punch he throws doesn't land Sebastian uses that to his advantage and snakes his arms around Kurt's body, holding him securely against him. Kurt goes quiet, but his whole body shakes, and though Sebastian can't hear the sobs he can feel Kurt's crying shake through him like faraway thunder warning of an impending storm.

"Why aren't you mine, Kurt?" Sebastian kisses Kurt on the forehead, the most bittersweet kiss Kurt has ever felt on his skin.

"Because…because you didn't want me."

Sebastian doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. His first instinct is to argue. Of course he wants Kurt. Who wouldn't want Kurt? Except that Sebastian made an art of pushing Kurt away, so no, of course Kurt would never believe that Sebastian Smythe was pining for him all this time. He comes up with what he thinks might be the right answer, but he waits a second too long, and another voice is calling through the loft from the still open door.

Sebastian feels Kurt turn to stone in his arms, every muscle tense and rigid.

"Kurt!" Blaine yells. "Kurt! Are you there? You left the door open again."

"I'll handle this," Sebastian whispers. Kurt's not even sure if he wants Sebastian to handle it, but he lets him because what does he have to lose. Sebastian disappears through the curtain and Kurt slowly descends to the bed, laying on his back and hiding with his hands over his eyes.

Kurt's head pounds as the two men clash. Their voices come at him in pulsations between the blistering pain of his headache and the cold sweat of nausea that has suddenly set in.

"Sebastian! What the fuck…"

"…feeling upset and neglected, why didn't you take the time…"

"…so you're fucking him? He's my fiancé! What the hell's…"

"…don't think he wants…didn't give him any choice…"

"…none of your business…"

On and on it went, fragments of conversation slamming Kurt in the gut, and if not for his brand new Egyptian cotton sheets he would have lost breakfast, lunch, and dinner right there on his bed. A break in Blaine's part of the arguing catches his attention and all Kurt can hear now is Sebastian muttering louder and louder.

"Don't worry, you fucking psycho. I'm going."

Kurt dies right then and there, unable to feel, unable to move, his last thread of hope walking out the door with the rest of his soul in tow. He shouldn't have been so stupid. He should have stood up for himself. He should have taken Sebastian up on his offer. It is what he's dreamed about for weeks, since Blaine made the decision to leave, that what he and Sebastian had between them wasn't mindless sex. Maybe it was something more. But now he's lost it, and he'll never know for sure. He'll follow Blaine to L. A. like the househusband he's apparently destined to be. Tomorrow he'll go to the first Pottery Barn he can find and buy himself a frilly apron, but for now he closes his eyes and the world goes black.

Kurt's body wakes up slowly, and with it comes a healthy dose of pain and aggravation. He doesn't want consciousness. He doesn't want to deal with Blaine, because Blaine doesn't fight or argue like a normal human being. It's almost like a big, predictable act. He gets this love-lost, heartbroken expression of bordering on tears but not quite, and then starts in with the sad, puppy dog eyes. He'll take everything Kurt's done in the last few weeks, everything from being two minutes late for their lunch date to sleeping with Sebastian and make it all about him. It doesn't matter that Blaine got opportunity after opportunity that should have at least partially belonged to Kurt and never once considered Kurt's feelings. It doesn't matter that he was moving to L. A. and handing out ultimatums left and right and maybe, just maybe Kurt felt his life slipping away before anything has even begun for him.

Kurt knows that prolonging the inevitable will make things worse in the long run so he chances one eyelid open, and then another, making a startling realization.

He's not in his own bed.

He opens his eyes wider against his own better judgment, but the curtains are drawn tight over the windows and all of the lights are turned off.

"Hey, princess. Are you finally ready to rejoin the land of the living?" Kurt hears Sebastian more than he sees him, but his voice - his smooth, velvety voice, one of the things Kurt always liked about Sebastian even when he despised him - is warm and forgiving. "How do you feel?"

"Like the floor of a taxi cab," Kurt grumbles, wincing when his own voice shoots like a pinball all over the inside of his skull. "Where am I?"

"I took you home," Sebastian says.

"Home?"

Kurt props himself up on weak elbows, his vision shifting left and right as blurry eyes scan the bed; the rich, satin sheets surrounding his body and the gigantic mattress he's lying on.

"Yes," Sebastian says, handing Kurt a glass of water and two small, white pills, "home. My home."

Kurt throws back the pills and chases them with the water, his dry, sticky mouth monumentally grateful for the scant bit of relief.

"Why would you do that?" Kurt says. The words are cynical, but his curious tone doesn't match.

"Because I wanted to," Sebastian shrugs, "and to tell you the truth, Hummel, you kind of needed me to."

"How do you know what I need?" Kurt rolls over on his side, wincing as his skin comes in contact with the sheets and tries to crawl off his bones.

Sebastian tries to think up an answer Kurt will believe. Would Kurt buy that Sebastian has feelings for him, something other than the 'I barely tolerate looking at the back of your head while I fuck you' kind? Would he believe that Sebastian sort of always did? Or that the idea or Kurt moving 3,000 miles away to follow some fucktard and become his lap dog would kill him?

No. No one is ready for any of those revelations, especially not Sebastian, so he goes with the next best thing.

Reverse psychology carefully shrouded beneath his own trademarked sardonicism.

"Look, if you really want to go to La-La Land and stand in the wings holding Blaine's purse while he gets all the praise and adoration and a television contract playing you, of all people, then there's the door." Sebastian points to an ambiguous point in another room. "Be my guest."

Kurt sits up in bed and stares past Sebastian's finger into the darkness, and for a moment Sebastian thinks he might do it, might get up on unsteady feet and walk out the door.

"Or," Sebastian covers, sitting down carefully by his side, "you can stay here with me, go to NYADA, and follow your dream, and maybe, just maybe, succeed at the thing you love and be happy for the rest of your life."

Kurt swallows lightly, turning his eyes to look at Sebastian.

"You'd let me live here?" Kurt asks, mildly stunned.

"Yes," Sebastian replies with a nod for emphasis. "We'll get all your horrid clothes and the rest of your things, and you can have the spare bedroom in the back, if that's what you want."

"And what about us?" Kurt whispers.

"What about us?" Sebastian asks, and in an instant Kurt looks helpless.

"Is there going to be an 'us'?"

Sebastian tilts his head and considers Kurt's question. He doesn't want Kurt to feel obligated to be with him because he's living there, but how would Sebastian even broach such a subject?

"Do you need there to be an 'us'?" he asks instead.

"No," Kurt says confidently, "but it might be…you know…nice."

Sebastian bobs his head, thinking things over, relieved to know that the fiercely independent Kurt that he fell in love with still exists inside of him somewhere.

"I think that might be…nice," Sebastian agrees. "Can 'us' start now?"

Kurt's eyebrows draw together in confusion, but Sebastian simply climbs beneath the blankets and pulls a still world weary Kurt close. Kurt sighs quietly, melting against him. Of all the times they've had sex, never once has he fallen asleep in Sebastian's arms. He thinks right away that it might be something he could see himself getting used to.

"Get a little more sleep, babe," Sebastian whispers, placing small kisses at the nape of his neck and smiling, feeling the earth shift in a more favorable direction. "We'll face the wolves tomorrow…together."