#coffeebeanklaine

            Blaine tried to contain a shudder, closing his eyes briefly to get a hold of himself before looking back up at the man in front of him. He was easily over six feet tall. “If I’m an idiot, I’d hate to know what that makes you considering you’re the one who fell for it.” Blaine inched a step closer. He was not about to be stared down and shown up by this asshole who thought that he was tougher than him. “And I promise that he wasn’t begging for it if the way he acts now is any indication. You’re just too delusional to be able to get that through your thick fucking skull.” Blaine was digging himself a hole but he didn’t want to gather himself enough to make a plan to climb out when he was done. “And really? Your huge cock? Who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”

            Cecil honest-to-God bared his teeth because apparently he was an animal. That explained a lot. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Do not fucking test me; I’m not above smashing your face in.”

            Honestly, Blaine didn’t doubt it. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do some pushing of his own. “Compensating with your scary words for what you lack in the bedroom.”

            Cecil took a step forward and Blaine barely held himself from backing up. He wasn’t going to step down. He wasn’t going to show weakness and run away with his tail between his legs. He was going to prove that he wasn’t some fucking jumbo shrimp. The taller man’s face was so close to his own, breath hot against Blaine’s nose and smelling faintly of what must have been vodka. “I don’t remember Kurt ever saying he had a boyfriend. I’d be plenty embarrassed too if I was dating some fuck-up like you,” he spat. “Now back. Off.”

            “Oh ouch, you’ve mortally wounded me with your mean words. At least I don’t have to dope boys up on who-knows-what to get them to have sex with me.” Blaine pressed his index finger into Cecil’s sternum. “Unlike some people, apparently.”

            The other man swatted Blaine’s hand away. “This is your last fucking chance,” he snarled. “You won’t be laughing anymore when you’re lying face down in the dirt.”

            Blaine just smiled. “Try me.” Cecil drew his fist back almost painfully slow, a smirk peeling across his face as if he’d been waiting his entire life to punch Blaine in the face. His nose broke with a grotesque crunch and Blaine could feel every ridge of the other man’s knuckles. Why the fuck hadn’t he moved. Right, because he wanted to prove a point. He stumbled back, bringing a hand up to clutch at his nose as he felt the blood drip through his fingers. Cecil rubbed at his hand and that’s when Blaine dove, arms locking around his upper thighs in a successful rugby tackle he’d be a lot more pleased with if it were under different circumstances.

            The taller man hit the grass with a thump and a grunt, head falling back to smack against the dirt. Blaine moved to straddle Cecil’s waist, knees clamping against his ribs as the other man thrashed under him. A hand came up around Blaine’s throat and he swung, feeling the satisfying crack of something against his hand. Cecil cried out below him, shielding his face the best that he could. He couldn’t see; everything was hazing red around the edges and he just kept hitting, palms and fists colliding with whatever was within reach and ignoring the pained cries of the man below him. Blaine lost track of time.

            He rolled off Cecil, turning away and swiping the back of his hand over his nose. Fuck. And then there was a wet chuckling behind him followed by a coughing wheeze. “Is that all you got?” Cecil spat into the grass, rolling onto his side and looking up at Blaine from swollen eyes as he turned back around. “I really hope Kurt’s proud of what you’re doing.” He had a split brow, probably a broken nose; something was up with his jaw that Blaine was surprised he even managed.

            Blaine turned back around, driving the toe of his shoe up into the other man’s ribs and drawing out a wheezing cry.

              His head was literally a drum. Blaine stumbled out of the park, one hand pressed against the back of his head and the other digging in his pocket for his cell phone. The screen was blurry and that was either because there was something on it or he couldn’t see. He chose the latter. Blaine flicked through his contacts, praying that the one he called was who he was aiming for.

            “Hello?” As Christian’s voice rang through the speaker, he realized he was right.

            “I need you to come and get me,” Blaine half-whispered, primarily to keep his ringing head down to a minimum.

            “Blaine, it’s like 8 o’clock or something,” Christian hissed.

            “Oh, my bad, are you an old grandma settled into her rocking chair to knit for the rest of the night?” he growled back. “I need you to come and pick me up, please.” Blaine pressed his fingers under his nose, pulling them away and glaring at the blood that came with them. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

            “Dammit, Blaine!” He heard something clatter to the floor and then a mumbled apology to someone followed by rushed footsteps against hardwood. “What the fuck did you do, now?” There was the jingle of keys and a slamming door.

            “I might have gotten into a fight, but who knows.” Blaine dropped down on the curb, crossing his legs and tugging up the hood on his sweater. It would be just his luck that someone would decide to give a damn about him right now.

            “You’re such a fucking moron!”

            “Yeah, so I’ve gathered. Just come get me.” Blaine forwarded his GPS location to his friend, not caring enough to figure out where he was.

              When the car pulled up to the curb, Christian looked pissed. Or maybe it was more than pissed. Either way, Blaine didn’t think he’d ever seen him that upset.

            “Why the hell did you get in a fight? And with who?” he spat when Blaine half-dragged himself in the door.

            “Some fucking asshole drugged my boyfriend and tried to rape him, I had every right to do something about it.” The shorter man let his head thump against the window, squeezing his eyes shut and regretting it immediately.

            “What the fuck am I supposed to tell the receptionist? He got in a fight with someone probably twice his size but don’t worry, the other guy looks worse.” The car screeched as Christian basically yanked it away from the curb.

            “He does look worse,” Blaine mumbled. “I don’t know, tell them I fell down the stairs.”

            “You’re such an idiot,” Christian sniffed. When Blaine looked over, he was crying. “You scared the hell out of me. You could have gotten yourself killed, you stupid fucking asshole!” His friend’s hands tightened around the wheel until his knuckles were white.

            “I’m sorry.”

              Blaine always hated hospitals.  It didn’t matter where they were or how colourful they got, he hated them. It probably started when he was six and Cooper had to get stitches. His parents were too focussed on his brother that Blaine ended up making an escape and was lost wandering the blank, empty halls for what felt like forever. His feeling of hatred was heightened when he was in a coma.

            Blaine sank down in one of the waiting room chairs, staring resolutely at his feet while Christian talked to the nurse over the receptionist desk. He was probably going to have to get his nose re-set which was going to hurt like God knows what. He was also going to need stitches. Blaine didn’t want to move to look at the mirror; didn’t want to see what he looked like.

              Blaine was sitting on the edge of his cot, glaring at his pile of folded clothes on one of the seats. Hospital gowns were stupid. His entire face ached; every time he moved something twinged and he debated that taking off his whole head would hurt a lot less.

            The nurse was out looking for pain medicine (he hoped) because she forgot to change the IV bag because she was also a fucking idiot. After messing up the stitches in his eyebrow, Blaine didn’t think she could get any worse. He was wrong. Blaine was picking at the edge of the gown when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He was ready to tear a fucking strip off the next person to come in his room.

            “You’re okay.” Blaine’s eyes flashed up from his lap because that was not the voice he expected. Kurt was standing in the doorway in a pair of sweatpants and a coat he didn’t even think was on the right way. And he was crying, fingers gripping the doorframe so tightly that Blaine was sure they were frozen there.

            Confusion tried to draw his eyebrows together but instead just made him wince. “Kurt, what are you doing here?” His voice sounded like shit, like someone was being dragged over a nail bed.

            His boyfriend laughed a high noise that was almost maniacal. “What the fuck do you mean what am I doing here? Christian fucking called me!” Blaine grimaced at the level of his voice, chewing the inside of his cheek as his head throbbed. “Do you even realize how scared I was? I thought you’d tried to off yourself or something again! Fuck, Blaine, you fucking idiot!”

            Blaine lost count of the amount of times he’d heard that just tonight alone. “Can you keep your voice down before your yelling splits my fucking head in half?” he hissed. Kurt didn’t believe him. He never believed him. He really believed that he wasn’t ever going to change. “I told you I was going to try and be better for you. I told you! Did you really not believe me?” He didn’t. “Did you really think that I would try and do that again when I promised you and myself that I would be a better person?” He did. Blaine twisted his hands together, glaring down at the tile between them. “I get that I’m an idiot, I’ve been told it enough times that I don’t need you to reiterate.”

            Blaine could see Kurt shaking his head in his peripheral. This was where it ended. “I’m done.” Done. The word stabbed through his head like a knife and all Blaine could do was watch the floor. “Blaine, I am so done with your pity-party.” Was that really what he thought this was? Did he really think that Blaine was trying to guilt him into something? “Of course I didn’t believe you!” Another knife. “How could I after everything you’ve put me through? I can’t keep dealing with this! I can’t be fucking terrified every time I receive a phone call. I can’t, Blaine. I can’t. I need to be able to trust you and know that when you end up in the hospital, it’s not because you’ve gone and hurt yourself again! What the fuck did you do this time, anyways?” This time. “Please tell me you didn’t get into some stupid bar fight because I will come over there and break your fucking nose again.”

            He could be trusted. He could. “You can trust me, you’re just refusing to try!” And it was true; this wasn’t just Blaine’s fault. “I haven’t hurt myself since I was in the hospital; I haven’t gotten high because I wanted to be able to pull through my problems for you and you’re standing here saying that you can’t trust me when I’m trying so fucking hard to give up what I’ve been doing the past four years to be a better person for you!”

            “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you would be able to trust me if I was in your position.” Blaine kept his eyes locked on Kurt’s feet. “Look me in my fucking eyes!” he cried. “You don’t get it. I love you and that’s exactly why I can’t trust you. Anybody else would leave—“ Kurt broke off his sentence, giving a feeble sniff and rubbing his hands over his eyes. “I’m so exhausted, Blaine, don’t you understand? I’ve been trying to change for you, too and I’m so tired.”

            “Anybody else would leave me, I get it. I’m a fucking idiot.”

            “Stop it! Stop degrading yourself! Didn’t you hear me, you dumbass? I know you’re a fucking idiot and I still love you.” Kurt sunk down in one of the chairs and Blaine’s eyes followed him as he threaded his fingers into hair Blaine didn’t realize was wet. “That won’t ever be enough, will it? My love for you won’t be enough.”

            “I never said that.” Blaine lifted his gaze to rest on Kurt’s face.

            “You didn’t have to.”

            “Well it’s not true.”

            “What do I have to do? What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere, that I’m here to stay? I’ve seen you at your lowest and your highest and fuck, Blaine, it only makes me love you more.”   

            “Maybe I’m scared to trust you, too! The first time I wasn’t strong enough for you, you left. You left me behind because I was too scared to turn in my fucking father for hitting me. Who’s to say that I’m not going to have another shitty low like that? Who’s to say that you won’t leave, then?” He was so close to breaking down. The pressure behind his eyes swelled up and his head felt like it was going to explode. They were supposed to be okay.

            “See? This is what I’m talking about. You won’t let that go. That was four years ago, Blaine, four years and you still bring it up every time. I’m done. I’m done with trying to defend myself and done with trying to prove something, which you obviously don’t believe exists. You were into drugs, you had sex with strangers every night and the first time I saw you, you were so drunk out of your mind that you couldn’t even recognize me. And you have the audacity to say you can’t trust me?”

            “I’m allowed to be scared, too, Kurt! I’m a fucking human being; I make mistakes, I fuck myself up, I ruin my own life one second at a time and I. Am. Scared! Are you saying that you’re allowed to be worried what I’m going to do but I’m not allowed to be worried about what you might? I’m not fucking invincible!”

            “I’m not either. I can’t deal with this forever.”

            “Oh but I can? I can just go on forever fucking up my own life? I love you, you absolute moron. Why else would I be in here right now if it wasn’t for that fucking asshole Ce—“ Blaine broke off, eyes dropping back onto the tile and rubbing his hands together. Fuck.

            “What? What did you—please tell me you didn't. Blaine, please tell me he did not do this to you.” Blaine just kept his gaze on the bleached floor, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “If you don’t tell me the truth, I’m leaving. Blaine, I will walk out of that damn door and hunt down Cecil myself.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Blaine. What. The fuck. Did he do to you?”

            “He looks worse,” Blaine mumbled.

            “He must’ve followed you home from Vapiano’s. I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I should’ve gotten him arrested or something, I’m so sorry.”

            “No, not exactly. It’s not your fault; it’s mine. As per usual.”

            “What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

            “I might have texted him and organized a little... meeting....”

            Kurt stood up and Blaine wanted to cry. This was the end. “No. You wouldn’t do that. No. You’re not that—you’re not that stupid.”

            “Apparently I’ve become more stupid because yeah, I did.”

            “Why? Just...why?”

            “I wanted to....” Blaine swallowed, looking back up at Kurt. "I wanted to protect you. I saw what he did to you at Vapiano’s and I needed to do something. I couldn’t just sit around and wait."

            “I can protect myself. Do you really think going out and getting yourself beat up was going to make a difference? Fuck, Blaine, now he’s probably even more furious.”

            “You sure didn’t look like you could protect yourself when you were having panic attacks over his name.” Kurt flinched, pulling his knees up to his chest as he fell back into the chair. Blaine instantly felt like shit. “Like I said, he’s worse off than I am.”

            “Whatever. You’re right. You win. I hope you’re happy.” Kurt’s voice was so empty and lifeless and alone.

            “I was just trying to help....”

            “I know.”

            “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

            “Me too,” Kurt sighed. "What we’re doing...what we’re trying to make happen...it’s not healthy, Blaine. It’s just not.” He slipped out of his chair and the whole world came crashing down. No, no, no, no, no!

            "We can fix this. We can," he insisted. 

            Kurt turned toward the door, making his way across the room. "I don't think we can."

            “We can! We can fix this! We can make this work!” Blaine stumbled off the cot, head spinning as he tried to keep his balance.

            “I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered, shaking his head as he strode towards the door.

            “Kurt! Don't go, please don’t go. Please! I need you!” Blaine slipped, knees colliding with the tile as he caught himself on his palms and the tears poured over, dripping to the floor between his hands. “Before you met me, I was alright but things were kind of heavy. You brought me to life now every February, you’ll be my valentine, Valentine,” he croaked out, pushing himself up onto his knees as he stared at the now empty doorway. Kurt was still there. He had to be; he could feel it. “Let’s go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. We can dance until we die. You and I will be young forever.” Blaine sucked in a breath, bracing his hands on his thighs and trying to get himself under control because he needed him. He needed Kurt more than he needed air. “You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream. The way you turn me on, I can’t sleep. Let’s run away and don’t ever look back. Don’t ever look back.” One of Kurt’s hands wrapped around the edge of the wall as he slowly came back into the room, pausing and watching. Blaine looked up at him. “My heart stops when you look at me. Just one touch, now baby I believe this is real. So take a chance and don’t ever look back. Don’t ever look back.”

            Kurt smiled, running the back of his hand over his cheeks and pushing away the tears. “We drove to Cali and got drunk on the beach,” he continued. “Got a motel and built a fort out of sheets. I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece. I’m complete.” He strode across the space between them, sliding to his knees as his fingers found Blaine’s jaw. “Let’s go all the way tonight, no regrets, just love. We can dance until we die. You and I will be young forever. You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream. The way you turn me on, I can’t sleep. Let’s run away and don’t ever look back. Don’t ever look back.”

            Blaine leaned up, pressing their lips together. And it wasn’t perfect. They were both crying too much, Blaine’s head hurt a little too much. His lips were cracked and sore and everywhere Kurt’s fingers touched seemed to ache but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because it was them and they were together and they were going to figure everything out together. The way things were always supposed to be. They were going to learn to trust each other, they were going to fight again, they were going to worry and yell and cry and kiss and hurt each other but everything was going to be okay.

            “You’re already awake,” Blaine murmured, leaning back slightly to crack open an eye. Kurt was watching him warmly, wet hair (since when?) flopped over his forehead with his post-shower-pink face.

            “I’ve been up for awhile. It’s about 11:30 and I took a shower and came back to watch you sleep.” Kurt brushed the backs of his fingers down the side of Blaine’s face, hand resting on his neck.

            “Creep.”

            “Your creep.” Blaine smiled, reaching up to press a quick kiss to Kurt’s nose and roll off the bed, all too aware of his nakedness. He headed toward the bathroom, biting his lower lip as he tried not to feel embarrassed.

            “If you’re up for a second shower, you can come and wash my hair.” He shot a look over his shoulder, cheeks heating up as Kurt’s eyes flashed to meet his from where he was obviously staring at Blaine’s ass.

            “Is that even a question you need to ask?” He practically leapt out of the bed, chasing Blaine down the hall to the bathroom.

              It was exactly 1:32PM when they stepped foot inside Vapiano’s; after the homeless man that stalked them across town they were thrilled to find it nearly empty for what must have been the first time ever.

                        “I don’t know what bowtie to pick.” Blaine was standing almost over his dresser, as close to hanging off of it as possible without tearing out the drawers. Kurt was perched on the edge of his bed, already dressed in a light lavender v-neck and a simple pair of khakis, hair drawn up into its usual perfect coif and Blaine was struggling. He wasn’t supposed to be the struggler.

            “Blaine, honey, you don’t need to go overboard. It’s not like this is an official date or something. We’re just going out because Vapiano’s sounds so appealing after having sex.” Kurt dropped back on his elbows, giving a drawn out sigh as he watched Blaine with a little smile.

            He was standing there half-sagging in the drawer of his dresser that housed his bowties in the royal blue skinny jeans he loved accompanied with his white belt, the fascinating cyan polo with white rimmed collar, and his black and medium grey saddle shoes. And for some God awful reason, he couldn’t find a bowtie that went with his outfit. “Just because it doesn’t have to look perfect, doesn’t mean I have to look like a mopey, miserable kid who doesn’t know how to dress himself.”

            “You look like that right now crying about not being able to pick a bowtie.”

            “Exactly, which is why you should help me.” Blaine twisted to give Kurt a pleading look over his shoulder, pushing out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

            “Fine,” Kurt groaned, pushing himself off the bed and moving to glance into Blaine’s drawer. “This one.” He chose so quickly that Blaine was sure he was going to get whiplash. It was white and black puzzle pieces. Kurt looped it around the back of Blaine’s neck, tucking it under his collar before tipping up Blaine’s chin with two of his fingers and starting the tie. “Because you’re my missing puzzle piece.”

              Blaine dropped in his seat across from Kurt after a worrying stair climb that nearly resulted in both of their deaths just because Blaine was a clumsy asshole who apparently didn’t know how to walk up steps without dying.

            “Last night was amazing,” Blaine mumbled around a mouthful of Caesar salad, almost positive there was dressing on his face somewhere.

            Kurt just smiled down at his low-fat pasta, twisting the noodles around the tip of his fork with slightly creased eyebrows. “It was incredible and all because of you.”

            Blaine felt his face heat up, staring determinedly at his glass of Pepsi. “No, you,” he objected quietly.

            Kurt reached across the table, forcing Blaine to set down his cutlery as he clasped his fingers. “I love you.”

            Blaine sucked in a breath, eyes flicking up to rest on Kurt’s face as he grinned back at him. “I love you, too. I love you so much.” And he so did. He so, so did. Except he really had to go to the bathroom and he didn’t know why he didn’t notice until that very second because now he had to try and get back down the stairs. “And I would stay here and tell you how much I love you forever, but nature calls.” Kurt just snorted, taking back his hand and waving him away. Blaine almost slipped and threw himself down the stairs because apparently walking just wasn’t his thing today.

            The bathroom was also deserted, not like that was a surprise. It was nice to be able to do his business in peace for what must have been the first time in public since he moved to New York. Blaine washed his hands, leaning against the wall beside the door and pulling out his phone. He knew how much Kurt hated it when he checked it while they were eating so he figured he had the time to do it now. There was a missed call from his mother (he finally saved her number) and from Christian; which was confusing.

            Blaine hit the call key and it rang three times before his roommate finally answered. “Hey.”

            “Hi,” Christian returned. He sounded so exhausted. “I just wanted to call and tell you that I probably won’t be home for awhile.” He literally sounded like he would rather lobotomize himself than be awake another second.

            “I kind of realized that. Is everything okay with Rachel? I mean, I assume it is if you’re not home.”

            “I don’t know what you’d count as okay but if you mean she’s going on a small Godzilla rampage and probably plotting the destruction of the entire city of New York with just her inner rage, yeah, its fine.” Christian sighed, probably rubbing a hand over his face.

            “That sounds horrifying. So she’s pregnant? For real? Santana didn’t just fuck with her test?”

            “No, it’s real. The uh... the condom... broke.”

            “I’d give you a high-five for finally getting laid but maybe you shouldn’t have if this was the outcome. Did you check the date on it? Did you... lube it enough?” He felt ridiculous. He felt like he was a father preaching to his son the importance of a condom. But this was Christian; this was the man that had walked in on him having sex with another man enough times that Blaine lost count.

            “It should have been fine. The date was fine and the... motion... was smooth enough. I don’t know why it broke. I was careful and this is the reward I get.” There was a sniff across the line. God, this was his breaking point. “I was so careful because I didn’t want this to happen and now.... Blaine, I’m going to be a father. I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I don’t even know if I’m ready to be committed to Rachel and this is making me have to and I’m really scared.” Christian was in no way a bad guy. He was sweet and kind and caring, but he also had his breaking point. He talked a lot about what he had planned for the future, rarely talked about girls and family and forever. Rachel was his first partner in what must have been four years and this was what he was given as a reward. A fucking baby.

            “Hey, hey. Everything’s going to be okay. Rachel might seem crazy now, but she’ll settle; she’s a nice girl. I know it’s scary and I wish I could tell you that I know how it feels but we both know that I don’t. You’ll get there. Maybe you aren’t sure about things now but there will be a time when you know what you want out of all this. Do you know if she’s keeping it?”

            “I’m not really sure if she’s decided or not. All she does is yell and cry all day about how her career is ruined and then she tells me that she hates me for doing this to her and then she yells about stupid things like Santana not closing a cupboard. I don’t want her to hate me.” Christian gave a broken sob and Blaine’s heart ached.

            “She won’t hate you. She’s just hyped up on hormones and stress which do not make a friendly concoction. Give her time and be there for her and try and push how you feel out of the mix for awhile because that will just make everything worse. I know it sucks and I know that it’s hard but you can do this because you’re so fucking strong. You dragged me in and looked after me and paid the rent and tried to help me get my piece of shit life back together even though I know that I’m not the easiest person to work with. You can do this.”

            There was another sniffle. “Thank you. I’m going to try.”

            “Christian, I love you, okay? You help so many people and this time, someone’s going to help you.”

              Blaine pushed his way out of the bathroom, slipping his phone back into his pocket and bounding back up the stairs. He was in there for what must have been pretty close to ten minutes meaning he needed to apologize to Kurt. “Hey—What’s wrong?” Blaine grabbed the back of Kurt’s seat, sliding to kneel on the floor beside him. He was shaking. Kurt jerked away from the brush of his arm on his shoulder so fast he almost slipped off his seat and fell to the floor. “Kurt, honey, please. What happened? What’s wrong?” Blaine held out his hand, slowly wrapping his other arm around the back of Kurt’s shoulders and trying to urge him closer. Something happened in the ten minutes that Blaine was in the bathroom and he didn’t know what and it was driving him insane. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They had a wonderful day yesterday and today was going to be just as good and then it was ruined.

            Kurt slowly let himself be pulled against Blaine’s chest, fingers clinging to his shirt. “Sweetheart, you’re trembling.” Shaking was definitely a better word because this was a lot more than little baby trembles. “Whatever it was, it’s over. I’m here now.” They sat there in silence; Kurt’s hands clasped into fists against Blaine’s chest, Blaine’s arms snug around Kurt’s frame.

            “He found me,” Kurt croaked out, voice cracking like broken glass and shattering into a million little shards that slowly ripped Blaine apart.

            “Who found you?” Whoever it was he was going to kill them. Kurt just shook his head. “Kurt, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what happened. Who hurt you?”

            His boyfriend seemed to shake even harder and Blaine felt the way his mouth opened and closed before he tried again. “Cecil.”    

               Blaine had wanted to both cry and scream at the same time because he wasn’t supposed to come back. He wasn’t supposed to be around to harass Kurt. Blaine paced the length of his living room, nails biting into his palms where his hands were curled into fists at his sides. He tried to convince Kurt to come home with him, to let Blaine wrap him up in a blanket and make him tea and watch a shitty romance movie with him until they both fell asleep on the couch but all the other man did was brush him off and insist that he needed to be alone for awhile.

            Blaine felt useless; completely and utterly useless. His roommate was dealing with a hell spawn of a pregnant girlfriend, his boyfriend was probably having a mental breakdown by himself, his mother wouldn’t return his calls so either her phone was dead (something that seemed to happen a lot because she forgot about it) or she was pointedly ignoring him, which was highly unlikely.

            Blaine pulled out his phone for what must have been the millionth time, turning on the screen and actually praying for a missed call from anybody. He barely resisted the urge to throw it across the room when the lock screen remained blank. Blaine let out a frustrated noise, burying his fingers in his hair as he dropped his phone on the couch and sunk down beside it. He needed to do something before he went absolutely fucking insane.

            If Cecil found Kurt, he must have said something that scared him, right? Right. Because Kurt wasn’t a baby that would just start shuddering and crying because he saw him, no matter what he did. No, this asshole said something to him. Did he bring up the text? He might have; why else would Kurt shake like a leaf unless he was threatened his death?

            Blaine picked up his phone again, unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts until he hit the name he was looking for and opened up a message. He needed to do something. He needed to figure something out so that he could get off of his ass and make use of his time and put a stop to this asshole that was tormenting his fucking boyfriend.

            It’s Kurt, I got a new phone.

            Blaine stared at the words, finger hovering over the send key. Was that something that he would say? If Cecil brought up the text, Kurt obviously should have known about it but would have come across that he didn’t when it was brought up. Blaine added to it.

            It’s Kurt, I got a new phone. I forgot about the text because I was trying to put it out of my mind. Sorry.

            Was that better? God, if Kurt got a new phone, he wouldn’t willingly give this asshole his number. But it was worth a shot. Blaine carefully hit Send. Blaine rubbed his palms over his knees, trying to wipe the sweat from them as he waited for a response. Would he even get one? His question was answered when his phone vibrated.

            well its a good thing that you remembered because you know what will happen if you tell anyone

            Blaine ground his teeth, sucking in a deep breath and trying to push his rage out; he had to keep it under control if he was going to take care of this.

            Yes, I know. Do you think that we could maybe meet up somewhere to talk about this? I’ve been thinking about what you said at lunch.

            That sounded reasonable, right? He obviously must have said something.

            i dont know what there is to talk about all i said was that you better watch your back but if you think that we need to discuss that then i dont see why we cant talk

            He threatened Kurt in public. He threatened his fucking life in public.

            I’ve just been thinking a lot about you after you left and I really think that talking would be good. Or ‘talking’ if you will. I feel like I missed out on a lot of what you could have given me if I didn’t run away that night. You just scared me.

            Blaine was going to throw up. He was going to throw up and also put a hole in the wall because this was disgusting. He was coming onto this guy in Kurt’s name.

            youve changed your tune a lot havent you? ill bring the stuff if youre interested in trying again i promise it feels really good once you actually get into it

            Blaine bit his lip so hard the metallic taste of his blood touched his tongue.

            Definitely.

            do you know where the balto statue is in central park?

            Of course he knew where it was; Central Park was the part of New York that he spent most of his time in during his first year. He knew where almost everything was by memory. And if memory served him correctly, the Balto statue was surrounded by quite a bit of trees. Perfect.

            Yes, of course. Can we meet there at 7PM?

            It needed to be dark enough that anybody outside wasn’t going to see Blaine beat the fucking living shit out of him.

            yeah that sounds good see you then

            It was 3PM now, that gave Blaine about an hour and a half to be pissed off, and another two and a half hours of city navigation.

              By the time 6:30 came around, Blaine was running up the stairs out of the subway, nearly knocking over some poor man carrying about four different suitcases for God knows what reason. He bolted across the road in front of a taxi that screeched to a stop a good three inches from him followed by a vaguely Hispanic shout and what must have been a rude name. He got into the park and to the statue in what must have been under two minutes if the way he ran said anything.

            Cecil wasn’t there yet; good. Blaine slipped behind into the grass, backing up into one of the trees and dropping to sit in the dirt and wait. This guy was an idiot if he actually showed up thinking that Kurt was going to be there. Blaine was also kind of an idiot for assuming that he would.

              At 7:04 there were footsteps on the path. Their part of the park was also strangely abandoned today (probably for the best) and Blaine shifted into a crouch. He was a tall man; broad in the shoulders, with mahogany hair that sat sort of funny on top of his head. He was tanned lightly from what Blaine could tell under one of the street lights and when he turned to inch across the grass behind the statue, his eyes were blue. Part of Blaine knew that he didn’t stand a chance against a man easily a lot taller and stronger than him, but the other part, the part that was doing this for Kurt, knew that he was going to damn try.

            “Who the fuck are you?” He had a voice that already grated on Blaine’s nerves as he got up and strode out of the coverage of leaves.