Sam walked down the corridor, heading to his locker. He was trying to brace himself for what was to come, but he had no idea what to hold on to. He didn't have a plan for how to get through the day. All he had was a vague and futile hope that he wouldn't have to deal with the situation. 'The situation' being Blaine, he guessed. Why was he even here? What was he hoping to accomplish in the state he was in? He'd made it this far on autopilot. If someone would have asked him what he'd had for breakfast this morning, or even how he'd gotten here, he wouldn't have been able to answer.

Sam stopped in his tracks. The sight of Blaine standing by his locker sent a sharp pain through him that made his breath hitch. Usually Sam didn't think about Blaine's size; he was Blaine and he was gorgeous and every part of him was the exact right size and shape. But now, leaning against the lockers, his back a bit hunched, Blaine looked so small. And he looked sad. Or rather, he looked like he was trying to not look sad, his smile barely more than his lips pressing lightly together. Blaine raised a hand, only about chest high, in a subdued greeting. Sam had promised him they'd talk. He just didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to think. He didn't know what he was feeling after last night. He wasn't mad – that had all ran out of him already on the way home, once he'd come down from his adrenaline rush and stopped shaking enough to drive home. Mostly he was confused, and sort of empty. Exhausted really. He mirrored Blaine's gesture and started walking again. Slower, less determinately, sticking his hands deep into his pockets. The walk seemed to drag out forever and still he was getting there much too fast. At long last he was standing in front of Blaine, balancing on the sides of his feet, trying to think of what to say.

Blaine made no effort to be heard over the loud clatter and chatter of the morning bustling around them, but he didn't have to; his soft voice drowned out all of it, even the thrumming of Sam's own heart in his ears, "Hey."

Then Sam heard his own voice too, barely holding, "Hi."

"Sam?" Blaine looked up at him with those big golden eyes, trying to catch Sam's gaze. "About last night..."

"Sorry I just took off," Sam looked down, stupidly staring at his feet. "I just, I –" yeah, what exactly?

"No, I'm sorry! I acted like a jerk."

"No, you... " Sam shook his head, "it's fine." It wasn't fine though, if he knew anything in that moment that was it. "I think we – um, need to let things cool off a bit. I mean, I think I – " Sam glanced quickly up a Blaine. Not bearing to meet his eyes he looked down again and blurted "I just need a little space."

Sam wanted space. What did that mean? Did it mean they weren't friends anymore? That they didn't even talk? Well, it did mean not talking about what had happened last night. Only, what had happened exactly? In a way Blaine was actually relieved that Sam had called the whole thing off. Because he was right – it was ruining things and he'd wanted to stop it himself but, well, he was just weak he guessed. He'd known it was a bad idea, but he never really had a chance, he could never have said no to Sam. Somehow it had felt different last night, like something had changed, almost like it could have been... more. But he'd panicked. Had he ruined everything now? Had he lost Sam for good this time?

Sam couldn't even begin to think of how he'd fix things with Blaine. Or if there even was such a thing as fixing it. But there was one thing he did know how to do right. Finally. He owed her the truth.

"Britt? About next week..." he started cautiously.

"Lord Tubbington is really not happy about you staying here," Brittany said casually, affectionately scratching the neck of the fat tabby cat in her lap. "You take up way too much space on the bed and you smell really bad. I think you smell delicious, but..."

"That's alright, I don't think I can anyway."

She didn't look up at him, she didn't say anything, she just kept petting the cat.

Sam continued, "There's something I need to tell you."

Now she looked at him, and there were tears welling up in her pretty blue eyes. What was he doing? How the fuck could this be doing the right thing? But no. The other option was to keep lying. To her. And to himself. Sam swallowed thickly. "It's this thing with, um... Blaine." Taking a deep breath, releasing it slowly, he forced himself to look up from his hands, "I think I have more feelings for him than I should."

A tear trickled down Brittany's soft perfect cheek. How was he doing this to her? To them. It took every bit of self-control Sam had not to wrap her up in his arms and pull her in. Kiss it away and make them both forget what he'd just said. She nodded and looked down at Lord Tubbington again.

"You can say it, Sam," she said in a small voice, "it's okay."

"I don't wanna say it!" Sam felt his own eyes burn with unshed tears, and his voice came out as a hoarse whisper, "I don't wanna hurt you. I'm so sorry, babe." As he reached out and grasped her hand the cat jumped down on the floor, and she laughed. Despite tears still streaming down her face, Brittany actually laughed. A small but sparkling laugh. Through a wet smile she said, "You really are an idiot, Sam."

Even with her sugary way of delivering those words they hurt. Instinctively Sam yanked his hand back, but realizing he'd probably deserved that he just concentrated on pushing back the tears and waited for her to continue.

"But you're still the most adorable idiot around, and I love you, so I can't really be mad at you."

Maybe on some level he'd hoped that she would be mad. That she'd break up with him – save him the decision. But of course she wasn't, and she didn't. Of course she was way too cool for that. And she knew. Of course she already knew.

"You're supposed to just rip off a band-aid, right?"

"I guess."

"Because it will hurt less, right?"

"Yeah?"

"But when it comes off you'll have to face what's underneath. And you know that you won't be able to stop yourself from picking at the wound. And it'll probably start bleeding again."

"Um... What are you saying?"

"I'm saying let's not."

He really didn't want to leave her hanging, but it was her suggestion and it made sense. It was actually a relief. She would join her family on their skiing trip after all, giving them both some much needed time to think. Sorting out his thoughts and feelings would be a lot easier with some distance between them.

Goddamned Sue Sylvester... This feud he had going with her had really slipped through his fingers and Blaine wasn't at all sure anymore who was playing who. It wasn't like it really mattered anyway. It wasn't like anything really mattered anymore. Sam was still mad at him. Or so he guessed. He hadn't said so. But then again Sam hadn't said much of anything to him this week.

Because Sam wanting space meant not sitting next to him in Glee or at lunch. It meant no hugs. In fact it meant no physical contact, platonic or otherwise, at all. Sam did ask him about the plan, though, but there was no joking around, no laughing, no trace of Sam's usual warmth. He knew he only had himself to blame, but that didn't make it hurt any less. And fuck it hurt!

They didn't not talk, they just didn't talk. Sam couldn't pretend nothing had happened. Though he still wasn't at all sure what had happened, or what it meant. It had just been too intense and weird. He couldn't just slip back into their friendship, into what they'd had before.

Sam spent most of his time in the art studio. Sometimes, and especially now, he felt that's where he was most at ease. Of course he loved Glee Club, but this was different. It was peaceful. It allowed his thoughts to run freely without distractions.

It didn't take Sam too long to figure out that he was miserable. It wasn't just the way he missed Blaine with every fiber of his being. Missed being with him, talking to him. No, before all this he had been able to ignore most of it. Letting himself enjoy being Blaine's friend, ignoring how incomplete that felt. But he couldn't do that anymore. It wasn't just that he missed what they'd had. He missed more than ever what they'd never had. When he saw Blaine in the corridor after having classes apart and he wanted to tell him all about it, and see that radiant smile of his directed at him. He wanted to kiss him and walk him to his locker, holding his hand... His hands. How he missed Blaine's hands! How they were so soft, yet rough in just the right way. What they felt like in his own. How he'd stroke across Blaine's palm with the ball of his thumb and it would make Blaine shift against him, press a little closer. And the feeling of Blaine's hands on him. And not only touching him like that, even though it always felt like heaven. No, not even mostly that, but how Blaine's hand just resting lightly on his arm, steady and warm, would make him feel happy and warm inside.

He could go on telling himself that Brittany needed him. Maybe she did in a way. Maybe she just liked having him, he wasn't sure. They did love each other, though. But much more as best friends. Best friends who happened to have great sex, but still mostly as friends. Yeah, the sex was great, the same way that everything about being with her was great – she was kind of magical like that – but he didn't need it. Not like he needed Blaine. Like he needed to breath.

He could keep telling himself that choosing her was the right thing to do. Hell, he'd even found a way to pretend he didn't have to choose at all. But the truth was that there wasn't a choice. There never had been. Not this one. His only real choice now was whether to accept it.

He could keep saying to himself Fuck Blaine! for not wanting him, for not choosing him. But the truth was that he'd been running away from this ever since the beginning. And sure, he could sympathize with the scared, confused sixteen year old who'd had his mind blown getting blown by his best friend. But he wasn't that boy anymore. He actually knew what he wanted now, what he felt. So why the hell hadn't he fought for Blaine?

The days dragged out painfully. Finally this one was coming to an end, but tomorrow would be another just like it. Another day of polite but terse conversation, of not having Sam beam at him or seeing his eyes sparkle. One more day without a single touch. One more day without Sam. This cold between them was unbearable. How had they gotten things so wrong? Well, Blaine knew how. He knew he'd been weird and out of line that night. And he knew there was no way Sam could possibly understand why. He'd been letting Sam think he was okay with the whole 'just bros' thing, when really he was nowhere near being okay with it. So of course Sam would be mad that he was suddenly having a jealous freak-out when he'd agreed to the no-feelings premise. He'd lied when he agreed to that. He'd lied when Sam asked him about his feelings. Fuck, he'd been lying to Sam since forever. He needed to try and fix it. To explain what had gone so wrong. Only, Sam didn't want to talk.

Blaine had reluctantly faced the fact that it was time to sleep; there was no stopping morning from rolling in. He was all ready for bed and was just peeling the covers off it when his phone went off. Blaine's heart jumped in his chest when he saw the caller-id pic – the one that never failed to make him smile. Because Sam looked so incredibly cute making that silly face. And because it brought back the memory of them goofing around taking those pictures, Sam refusing to keep a straight face for any of them. And of how it all had ended with them both in a pile of arms, legs, tickling and laughter. How it all had just been simple back then. Or at least simpler. Blaine grabbed the phone and jumped up on his bed, sitting cross legged feeling his heart beating faster he answered it not even trying to hide his excitement, "Sam!"

"Sorry it's so late," Sam sounded tentative, "I didn't wake you did I?"

"No no, not at all," Blaine assured him, reigning himself in a bit to better match Sam's uncharacteristically cheerless tone. "How are you?"

"Miserable," Sam sighed, "I can't stand not talking to you."

"Me too."

"I kinda needed it though, but I'm sorry I shut you out."

"It's fine, I get it. Or, maybe not. But I get that you're upset... The way I acted..."

"You know what?" Sam cut him off, but there was no trace of anger or irritation in his voice as he continued to explain, "That's not why I called. I don't wanna do this over the phone. In fact I'm not even sure I wanna talk about that. Not yet anyways. I just don't wanna not talk to you anymore. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, it kinda does," Blaine smiled. He could live with that. Just hearing Sam's voice again made him warm inside, "I'm very happy you called, Sam."

Blaine could hear Sam smiling at the other end of the line.

Sam walked to his car with a lightness in his step, and in his heart he hadn't felt in a long time and that he'd spent the last week thinking he might never feel again. The drive to school seemed shorter, the sky brighter. As he pulled into the parking lot he saw Blaine just getting out of his car. He was already half-way to the main building when Sam caught up to him. Wordlessly he tugged the sleeve of his jacket and Blaine turned around. Their gazes locked for a brief moment before he pulled Blaine to his chest. Hugging him tightly, burying his face in Blaine's neck. The smell of his hair gel that was sweet and a bit too much but still so good, so Blaine. He held on, only now that he was soothed realizing how his entire body had felt like a fresh wound. Blaine mumbled something against his shoulder. Sam realized he might be holding him too tight and loosened his grip a bit, without letting go.

"What?" he asked softly.

"Hi Sam," Blaine whispered.

"Hi," Sam smiled. As their embrace broke Blaine beamed at him and with no more words they walked into school together.

Sam had finally fallen asleep after what felt like hours of wrestling with his own thoughts. When his phone started buzzing again he realized that must have been what woke him up. Blaine. Sam drowsily put the phone to his ear and rasped, "Yeah?"

"Oh, good you're up!" came Blaine's cheerful response.

"Mm, sorta," well, now he was. "Wait, are you outside? Who are you with?"

"Tina! Or, I was at Tina's. But she fell asleep, which was kinda boring so I left and..."

Perfect, a drunk Blaine to deal with was just about the last thing he needed right now. "Alone?! Where are you exactly?"

"I think... I don't know."

"Okay, B. Just stay where you are, I'll come pick you up." Sam put Blaine on speaker and asked, "Which way did you go from her house?" as he pulled on his jeans and tee shirt.

"I tried going the way we went, y'know, after the party."

"What, here?"

"Yeah, I know I should have called first, but... Y'know that night you couldn't keep your hands off me and now you don't even wanna see me, and I just really wanna see you and... and just hang out, y'know – no funny business, I totally get that."

Sam had to chuckle a bit at that last part. But the rest – he really had no response for that.

"Anyway, I'll just go up to the main road, I'll find the way back from there."

"No! No, you stay where you are. Is there somewhere you can sit?"

Sam walked Blaine through giving him directions and before long he pulled up by the curb where Blaine was sitting. Not ten minutes later he ushered Blaine into his room.

"Are you sure you're alright with me being here? I can totally go home, Sam."

"You're not going anywhere tonight."

"I'm sorry for just dropping by even though I knew you didn't want to see me."

"I never said I didn't want to see you."

"No, you didn't really have to."

"Blaine, it's not that I don't wanna see you, it's really not that."

"Y'know, you can trust me, Sam. No more hooking up, I totally respect that. I promise – you don't have to worry about it, I can totally keep it in my pants."

Sam laughed. Even with how tired he was it wasn't as if Blaine's drunken oblivious flirting did nothing to him. Far from it. But if there had ever been a bad time for funny business, this was it.

"No, but really, you're with Brittany, and I get that you wouldn't want me when you have her. Why would you? With those legs, and, well you know, everything."

"B – we broke up."

"Oh..."

"Yeah."

"Oh, um, I'm so sorry. How... what... How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. I guess. I mean, I don't know, but... I just really need to sleep, okay?"

"Okay, yeah, sure. Let's get some sleep," Blaine agreed and settled next to him, carefully maintaining the neutral zone between them. Sam curled his arm around Blaine's waist and brought them closer.

"Good night," he mumbled, half-way asleep already, "I'm glad you're here."