fic: drive until you lose the road
Title: Drive Until You Lose the Road
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine; Blaine-centric
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,249
Warnings: depression, heavy talk of suicide, homophobia, gay-bashing
Summary: Blaine's at the end of his strength. Inspired by this headcanon.
It would be so simple.
And he wouldn't have to keep living like this, barely making it through each day. He wouldn't have to deal with the bullies. He wouldn't have to deal with his father. Everything would just go away - like that.
A/N: That headcanon has stuck with me all day and I needed to get it out. So I guess this is just an elaboration?
Week after week, things are still the same.
Blaine can't remember when this all started, but he can't shake it now.
It's a Monday, and he's sitting in the choir room with Kurt, their hands clasped together on Kurt's knee. Everyone is chatting away, excited and happy, and as usual, Blaine feels out of place with the strained smile on his face and the tightness in his chest.
"Hey, Blaine?"
He glances up to see Finn turned around, looking eagerly at him.
"We're having a Call of Duty tournament this Friday, right?" he asks. "Do you think we could do it at your house?"
Blaine bites his lip, shaking his head. "I don't think so. My dad's hosting a meeting for work - sorry."
"It's fine," Finn assures. "We'll figure out a place - but you're coming right?"
Blaine really doesn't know why, but lately, hanging out with his friends has seemed more like a chore than actual enjoyment. So he keeps making excuses and hopes that no one gets suspicious.
"I don't think so."
"Awh, come on," Sam pleads. "It's gonna be sick."
"And it'll be more fun with you there,"Artie adds. "You have mad skills, man."
"Thanks guys," Blaine says, forcing himself to look touched. "But I'm busy. I've got plans with the Warblers, and I haven't seen Nick and Jeff in awhile."
"It's alright," Finn says. "We understand. We'll just have to catch you next time."
Blaine nods, trying to breathe a little easier, but he can feel Kurt's eyes on him, and it's uncomfortable.
"Are you okay?" Kurt asks. "You seem a little off today."
"I'm fine," Blaine lies. "I've just gotten less sleep than I normally do the past few days. I'm tired."
Kurt nods and gives Blaine's hand a gentle squeeze, smiling slightly. Blaine sighs in return, and he hopes it sounds content rather than frustrated.
.
.
Math has always been Blaine's strong suit. Starting right in middle school, he'd always been in advanced math classes. He even started tutoring kids during his time at Dalton, and it made him quite a bit of money.
But now he's just gotten his last test back, and he's holding it up to his face in disbelief, a great, red D staring back at him.
"Hey," Tina says next to him. "Blaine how'd you d - oh."
"Yeah," Blaine says bitterly, and he quickly shoves the test in his folder.
"Did you not understand it?" Tina asks carefully. "Because I'm sure I could help you out."
"No," Blaine says, shaking his head. "I understand it - well, the basics. I guess I just didn't study enough."
He thinks back to his weekend, and that's such an understatement. He'd spent the time either fighting with his dad or curled up in bed; he hadn't studied at all.
"Guess I'll just have to do better next time."
.
.
Blaine glances up at Mike again, trying and failing to stay along with choreography.
It's just not connecting. His brain watches Mike, gets down the moves, but he can't make his body repeat them consecutively in the right way. He sighs when he tries for at least the eighteenth time and doesn't get it. And putting his hands up in surrender, he moves away from the group, letting them finish in sync before he joins back in.
"Blaine, you okay?" Mr. Schue asks, and Blaine nods.
"I'm just getting frustrated with the choreography," he replies. "I can't get it."
"It's okay, Blaine," Schue assures. "We'll just keep working on it. But for now . . . " he trails off, looking at the clock. "I do believe it's time for us to end. Great rehearsal everyone, and I'll see you all tomorrow morning."
Blaine runs a hand along the stubble grazing his jaw before moving over to his stuff.
"Hey - Blaine."
He looks up, and Finn stands, bending slightly over, his eyes glancing back at Kurt for a second.
"Are - are you okay?" he asks.
"I'm fine," Blaine says automatically. "Why?"
Finn fidgets, sighing. "It's just - Kurt is really worried about you. And I kind of am too, man. You've seemed really out of it lately, and you've been distant with us guys."
Blaine shrugs, not exactly sure what to say.
"I mean - I have a lot on my plate right now, but I'm okay, Finn," he says. "Or I will be. I'm just - I'm really stressed, but I'll be okay once I have some time to breathe and relax."
"O - Okay," Finn says, unsure. "But I just - I don't like seeing you like this, Blaine. You're not yourself lately. And I know we're not really close or anything, but you're my brother's boyfriend and I kind of feel like you're part of the family or something - you know, the way Kurt feels about Rachel. Well, they're best friends - but you know what I mean - when we're all together with my parents and stuff."
"Finn, you're babbling," Blaine cuts in. "But - thanks. And I promise you, I'm alright. Don't worry about me so much."
"You sure?" Finn asks, and Blaine nods. "I'm glad." He gives Blaine a small clap on the shoulder before joining Rachel and leaving the room.
Blaine picks up his bag and strings it over his shoulder, trying to ignore the heaviness of his heart.
.
.
It's only fitting that after a little reassurance and support from Finn, his dad has to bring him down.
Because right as Blaine starts diving into his AP Chemistry homework, his father comes upstairs, demanding to know why Blaine got a D on his last math test. It isn't long before it turns into a shouting match, ending when his father slams the door after a final word, and Blaine's left breathing hard, hands clenched at his sides.
God, he's just so sick of his father finding everything that's wrong with him. He's so sick of his father never seeing the good things that he can do - the things that he can do right, and then he ends up second-guessing himself, thinking that he's just an idiot and in reality he can't do anything right.
And it just sucks, because he tries so hard.
He tries to please his father. He tries to do things right and to keep control of his temper and to just do whatever it takes to make his father proud, but it's never enough.
And Blaine just doesn't know how much longer he can keep it up.
And so he ends up back on his bed, bringing his knees up to his chest, and he cries. All the anger leaks out of him and that awful feeling of worthlessness overcomes him.
It's all he wants.
All he wants is to make his father proud, to stop the fighting.
But that's never going to happen.
.
.
It just isn't getting any better.
No matter what Blaine does, everything seems to be falling apart.
But he's doing his best to stay strong. He's trying as hard as he can, but it's so hard. With his father's disappointment and the stress of school and his slipping grades and the bullies that just won't leave him alone -
And speaking of them, Blaine feels something collide with his back, and he's thrown into the nearest row of lockers. He slides to the ground, feeling as the handles scrape his back. He sighs heavily, leaning his head against the metal doors.
"See you 'round, faggot."
He just can't win.
.
.
And so now here is, just like he always is when it feels like the world is collapsing down around him.
He's dressed in sweatpants and old wife beater, the gloves feeling secure on his hands and he simply lets go. He thinks of his father, of the bullies, of everything in his life that sucks and he punches, punches, punches, letting everything out. He grunts and he grits his teeth and he squeezes his eyes shut for just a second, wishing he could do some real damage.
He just hates this.
He hates his father, he hates high school, he hates that he's never good enough.
He so fucking sick of nothing ever going right, everything going wrong and nothing making any sense. He's so fucking sick of doing everything that he can to try and feel accepted, to make people like him, to do whatever he needs to please people, only to be burned in the end.
He feels like he's going to explode.
Everything hidden away inside of him, everything he won't let people see is just bursting at the seams, spilling out, and pretty soon it's going to be a full-blow explosion, mushroom cloud and silver lining.
Because he just cannot do this anymore.
He can't keep this up - it's impossible.
He's wasting too much energy, too much time, too much strength and everything only gets worse, and it's the most awful feeling in the world.
Blaine stops for a second, letting his hands fall to his sides, and he stands there, breathing heavily.
And here we go.
Time to swap the anger for the hopelessness.
Blaine reaches for his right glove, unbuckling it and sliding it off. He heaves a deep sigh, running his fingers through his damp hair.
He knows it's hopeless when boxing only makes him feel worse. He just really wishes there was a way -
Suddenly, the door to the locker room comes open, and he hears a chorus of rowdy voices. His heart starts pounding, and fuck, what is he supposed to do? He can't just run out - not that he wants to, but usually he's strategic about this stuff, so he doesn't have to put himself at risk.
"What's this?"
The group of jocks comes to a halt, staring Blaine down.
"Well, well, well - look who decided to sneak in, boys."
The guys laugh as Rick smiles sickeningly, taking a step towards Blaine.
"If you haven't noticed, lady, this isn't the girls' locker room."
"I know that," Blaine snaps. "I'm not an idiot. I'm supposed to be here, moron."
Rick raises his eyebrows, biting his lip. He scoffs, starting to walk circles around Blaine.
"Obviously, you don't know that, homo," he retorts. "You don't belong here. No one wants you here - it's uncomfortable. And we don't need your glitter and sparkles raining all over our parades. Now get out."
"No," Blaine says shortly. "I was minding my own business before you came in here. And I have every right to use this place."
"Not when you're using it to get into our pants - whether we want to or not," Rick replies. "It's fucking disgusting. So I suggest you get out before I make you do it myself."
"Oh my god," Blaine mutters, and he pulls his glove back on. "I don't need this shit, alright? I'm not checking any of you out. I'm happily taken and I don't appreciate you accusing me of one - cheating, and two - wanting to rape you. You're the disgusting one, and I suggest you leave me be, because I'm not afraid to fight back."
"Fine," Rick says, crossing his arms. "If you want it that way."
And before Blaine knows what's happening, Rick steps forward and punches Blaine across the cheek. Before Blaine can even react, two more guys begin kicking at his legs, his back, his arms. He tries to fight, but there's too much force against him, and eventually he just takes it, wishing for it all to be over.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Hey - hey!"
"Rick, get off him now!"
"Artie! Artie, go get Coach Bieste!"
The bodies disappear from around Blaine, and then someone's pulling him up, holding him upright and trying to get him to stay steady on his feet.
"Blaine, are you alright?"
It's Sam, his hand gripping Blaine's shoulder and his expression worried.
"I'm fine," Blaine says quickly. "I just - I need to get out of here." He makes to leave, but Sam stops him.
"Whoa!" Sam says, grabbing his arm. "Blaine, wait - we should see if you're hurt - "
"I'm fine," Blaine says, more forcefully, and he pulls away from Sam roughly, leaving the locker room in a rush.
.
.
Blaine opens his locker with a sigh, grabbing what books he needs and shoveling them into his bag.
"Blaine - hey, Blaine!"
He looks around, cursing under his breath as Kurt comes rushing up to him. Kurt throws his arms around Blaine's neck, leaning in for a kiss, but Blaine pushes him away.
"Kurt, no - "
"Blaine?" Kurt asks, stepping back. He pauses, pressing his lips together, and defeated, asks, "Blaine, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Blaine says quickly, turning back to his locker.
"You know, I am really sick of hearing that," Kurt snaps, crossing his arms.
Blaine creases his eyebrows together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Because fuck - now Kurt - the one person Blaine thought would just let him be because he knows Blaine, knows what he wants and what he needs - is getting angry with him. He's getting snarky and pushy and it hurts, because Blaine thought for sure, that Kurt would let him talk when he needed to.
But now Kurt's just another person demanding answers, and it's not what Blaine needs right now.
"It means that there is obviously something wrong," Kurt says, raising his voice. "Something very wrong, and I wish you would stop pretending like there isn't. Okay, I know about what happened in the locker room. And I also know that you've been extremely distant lately. You're pushing me away and all I want is to help you."
"You can't help me," Blaine says sharply. "There's nothing to help."
"Yes there is," Kurt argues. "And God, I just don't understand why you can't tell me - your boyfriend, might I add - what the hell is going on with you."
Blaine scoffs. "Yeah, well there's a lot of things you don't understand."
He slams his locker shut, turns on his heel, and walks away, leaving Kurt standing there alone.
.
.
Blaine can't help it.
He presses the gas down hard, speeding from the parking lot and out onto the street. He runs lights, stop signs, only stopping when he reaches his house. He slams down on the breaks and steps out of the car, slamming the door shut.
He's just fucking fed up with everything, and God, why?
Why did his relationship with Kurt have to go onto the list of things he's fucked up?
Now he really feels hopeless.
He enters the house and shuts the door a little too loudly. He kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat, thinking about going up to his bedroom and just lying down, finding some peace after this awful day.
But those plans are canceled when he enters the living room to find his father sitting on the couch with his arms crossed.
"What?" Blaine asks, irritated.
"An F," his father says. "This time in Chemistry."
Blaine rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh.
"Don't roll your eyes, Blaine - this is serious," his father says sharply.
"I'm sorry, alright," Blaine says quickly, wringing out his hands. "I just have too much on my plate right now, and it's - "
"It's him, isn't it?"
Blaine stops short, raising his eyebrows at his father. "Who?"
"That boy," his father says, voice growing louder. "That boy is a bad influence on you, Blaine. You need to stop spending all of your time with him or your grades are just going to keep slipping. You won't be able to get into a good law school, you won't be able to get a decent job - "
"Hey," Blaine says sharply. "Don't you blame this on Kurt."
And even though he's angry with Kurt right now, even though he's still messed up over their fight, he's not going to let this turn into another argument over Kurt. He's not letting his dad put the blame on him again.
"Well, I'm just saying - "
"Kurt has nothing to do with this," Blaine says. "And you know that." He scoffs. "And God, I don't know why you always have to put everything on him. He helps me, Dad. He helps me with things when I'm stressed out. Without him, things would probably be worse."
"But you don't know that, Blaine," his father says. "Because you don't take any time away from him." He shakes his head. "I just don't know why you even waste your time with him when there are plenty of other nice girls who would do you good, and - "
"Not this again," Blaine says, leaning his head back and sighing heavily. "Dad, I'm not interested in girls - how many times do we have to go through this?"
"Well, if you would just give one a chance - "
"I have," Blaine says, starting to shout now. "I have, Dad, and things are still the same. Why can't you just get it through your head that I'm gay? This isn't a phase and nothing is going to change the way I feel about men."
"Blaine, just listen to me for a second," his father starts, but Blaine waves a dismissive hand.
"Forget it," he says acidly. "I don't need this right now. I have other things to worry about."
And with that Blaine leaves the room, heading upstairs to his bedroom.
"Blaine!" his father shouts after him. "Blaine Anderson, you get back down here right now - I'm not finished!"
"Well, I am," Blaine yells back, and he slams the door on his father's voice.
.
.
Blaine isn't sure how he ended up here.
All he knew is that he needed to calm himself down, and the logical answer was his anger control medication. So he went to the bathroom and he grabbed the bottle, but now he's simply staring at it.
And he's imagining a handful of pills sitting in the palm of his hand. And he's imagining throwing those pills into his mouth and swallowing, closing his eyes and letting the darkness take him over.
It would be so simple.
And he wouldn't have to keep living like this, barely making it through each day. He wouldn't have to deal with the bullies. He wouldn't have to deal with his father. Everything would just go away - like that.
No more pain, no more stress, no more anxiety.
He could do it.
But then his father's footsteps sound downstairs, and he realizes that maybe it's not the best time.
I can't do it now. I can't do it at home. Dad could come in. I need to do it alone.
Blaine shoves the bottle into his schoolbag, burying it deep under his books.
I'll drive somewhere alone and do it tomorrow.
.
.
Blaine walks through the halls of McKinley, not daring to look anyone in the eye.
Today. I'm doing it today after school.
But he doesn't.
.
.
It isn't until Friday that he's confident.
I'm doing it today. I have it all planned out and I won't back down.
I'll go to glee rehearsal, sing the group number for this week's assignment, and I'll subtly let everyone know how much I love them and how much I'll miss them. I'll shove the letter into Kurt's locker.
And then I'm gone.
I'm driving somewhere no one can find me, I'm swallowing the pills, and it's over.
I'm gone.
.
.
Blaine is standing at his locker, breathing deeply.
He's about to go to his last class - the last class he'll ever attend, and even though he's got it set in his mind, there's something surreal about all of this. That he's really going to do this; he's really going to end everything. All the pain, all the hurt, it will be gone in just a few short hours, and so will his life. He'll be free now; he'll be at peace.
But then something gets in his way.
"Blaine?"
He turns towards the timid voice, closing his locker halfway. Kurt stands there, twiddling his fingers and looking extremely anxious.
"What?" Blaine asks tiredly.
"We need to talk," Kurt says softly, and he reaches forward carefully, shutting Blaine's locker and taking his hand, his grip gentle.
Blaine doesn't have the heart to deal with this, but he's made his decision and one conversation couldn't hurt, could it? Blaine can already guess what's going to happen. He's been an asshole to Kurt and he doesn't blame him. And really, this would be the best way to leave, with nothing lingering in between them.
And so Blaine lets Kurt drag him down the hallway, around the corner, and into the choir room.
And surprisingly, he isn't all that upset. Kurt's breaking up with him - that much is obvious, but for some reason, maybe it's what Blaine has planned - it doesn't hurt as much as Blaine thought it would.
But of course - Kurt zigs when Blaine thinks he's going to zag.
Kurt stops in the middle of the room and faces Blaine. Digging in his pocket, he pulls out a small bottle and a folded up note. Blaine feels his heart beating fast, pounding against the inside o f his throat. Kurt presses his lips together, his eyes glistening with tears.
"Blaine," he says quietly. "I - "
"Where did you get that?" Blaine snaps quickly.
"Today during lunch," Kurt explains, voice shaking. "You left your bag on the table when you went to the bathroom."
"So you snooped through it?" Blaine asks, acid entering his rising voice. "Kurt, that's completely - "
"Blaine, would you just stop being so defensive?" Kurt asks through clenched teeth. "You need to stop pushing people away, or you aren't ever going to feel better."
Blaine flinches because well, Kurt's right. And God, he hates it. This - this isn't who is. This isn't who he wants to be.
But it's why he needs to get rid of that person.
"You've been thinking about suicide," Kurt says, and it's not an accusation; it's a fact. "Have you attempted it yet?" Blaine shakes his head. "But you're going to." And the look in his eyes - such a horrible mix of emotions - worry, fear, hurt,disappointment.
Blaine breaks - the most shattered he's been yet.
"It would just be so easy," he says, voice a whisper. "A handful of those pills and it would all be over."
"Blaine - "
"I'm so tired," Blaine says, voice cracking, eyes stinging with tears. "Kurt, I'm so tired - of all this. I'm so tired of feeling like this - feeling like I'm worthless, like I'm never good enough. I'm just so tired of fighting, Kurt. I want this to be done. I don't want to deal with this anymore."
And he's crying by the time he's finished. However, the tears leak down his face silently - no gasps of breath. He simply stands there, mouth parted slightly, eyes looking but seeing nothing.
Kurt steps forward, and carefully reaches for Blaine's hand, holding it in both of his. He rubs his thumb slowly over Blaine's wrist, and then presses his lips softly against Blaine's beating pulse.
"You don't have to do this," he says quietly.
Blaine shakes his head. "No one would care."
"I would," Kurt says sternly. "Blaine, you have to know I love you - "
"You'd get over me," Blaine counters. "Kurt, you deserve so much better than me. I fail you all the time, and I hate it."
"No," Kurt says, shaking his head. "You're amazing, Blaine. You're everything to me, and I don't ever want to lose you."
Blaine presses his lips together, but a sob escapes anyway.
"It's just - nothing helps," he says quietly. "Not glee club, not boxing, not anything. I can't shake this. Kurt, I can't - I can't do this anymore. I don't have the strength."
"Yes, you do," Kurt says, almost desperate. "And I'm going to help you, Blaine. I won't let you kill yourself. I will do everything and anything in my power to make sure you get better."
"Kurt," Blaine starts. "No, I - "
"You don't think I ever thought about suicide?" Kurt asks. "I did - especially right before I met you, but I made it through, and I'm going to make sure you do too. You're not going to go through this alone, Blaine."
Blaine shakes his head again, closing his eyes for a second. "I can't do it. I'm not strong enough."
"Yes you are," Kurt says sharply, and he squeezes Blaine's hand tighter. "You don't think so, but you are. Your bravery amazes me every day, but now," he says with a sigh, "it seems like you've reached the edge."
Blaine nods, letting out another sob. "I have," he admits. "And I hate it."
"And I told you," Kurt says. "I'm going to help you. You will get through this Blaine. We'll get through this."
Blaine can't argue anymore. Instead, he begins to cry harder, and Kurt pulls him into his arms, holding him tightly, and Blaine buries his face in Kurt's neck.
"I don't want to," Blaine chokes, pulling back for a second. "I don't want to kill myself, but I feel like it's the only option."
Kurt shakes his head, cupping Blaine's face in his hands. "It's not," he says fiercely. "Blaine, you don't have to do this."
Blaine reaches up, gripping one of Kurt's wrists, and Kurt does his best to force a smile. He leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss on Blaine's forehead.
"It will get better."
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine; Blaine-centric
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,249
Warnings: depression, heavy talk of suicide, homophobia, gay-bashing
Summary: Blaine's at the end of his strength. Inspired by this headcanon.
It would be so simple.
And he wouldn't have to keep living like this, barely making it through each day. He wouldn't have to deal with the bullies. He wouldn't have to deal with his father. Everything would just go away - like that.
A/N: That headcanon has stuck with me all day and I needed to get it out. So I guess this is just an elaboration?
Week after week, things are still the same.
Blaine can't remember when this all started, but he can't shake it now.
It's a Monday, and he's sitting in the choir room with Kurt, their hands clasped together on Kurt's knee. Everyone is chatting away, excited and happy, and as usual, Blaine feels out of place with the strained smile on his face and the tightness in his chest.
"Hey, Blaine?"
He glances up to see Finn turned around, looking eagerly at him.
"We're having a Call of Duty tournament this Friday, right?" he asks. "Do you think we could do it at your house?"
Blaine bites his lip, shaking his head. "I don't think so. My dad's hosting a meeting for work - sorry."
"It's fine," Finn assures. "We'll figure out a place - but you're coming right?"
Blaine really doesn't know why, but lately, hanging out with his friends has seemed more like a chore than actual enjoyment. So he keeps making excuses and hopes that no one gets suspicious.
"I don't think so."
"Awh, come on," Sam pleads. "It's gonna be sick."
"And it'll be more fun with you there,"Artie adds. "You have mad skills, man."
"Thanks guys," Blaine says, forcing himself to look touched. "But I'm busy. I've got plans with the Warblers, and I haven't seen Nick and Jeff in awhile."
"It's alright," Finn says. "We understand. We'll just have to catch you next time."
Blaine nods, trying to breathe a little easier, but he can feel Kurt's eyes on him, and it's uncomfortable.
"Are you okay?" Kurt asks. "You seem a little off today."
"I'm fine," Blaine lies. "I've just gotten less sleep than I normally do the past few days. I'm tired."
Kurt nods and gives Blaine's hand a gentle squeeze, smiling slightly. Blaine sighs in return, and he hopes it sounds content rather than frustrated.
.
.
Math has always been Blaine's strong suit. Starting right in middle school, he'd always been in advanced math classes. He even started tutoring kids during his time at Dalton, and it made him quite a bit of money.
But now he's just gotten his last test back, and he's holding it up to his face in disbelief, a great, red D staring back at him.
"Hey," Tina says next to him. "Blaine how'd you d - oh."
"Yeah," Blaine says bitterly, and he quickly shoves the test in his folder.
"Did you not understand it?" Tina asks carefully. "Because I'm sure I could help you out."
"No," Blaine says, shaking his head. "I understand it - well, the basics. I guess I just didn't study enough."
He thinks back to his weekend, and that's such an understatement. He'd spent the time either fighting with his dad or curled up in bed; he hadn't studied at all.
"Guess I'll just have to do better next time."
.
.
Blaine glances up at Mike again, trying and failing to stay along with choreography.
It's just not connecting. His brain watches Mike, gets down the moves, but he can't make his body repeat them consecutively in the right way. He sighs when he tries for at least the eighteenth time and doesn't get it. And putting his hands up in surrender, he moves away from the group, letting them finish in sync before he joins back in.
"Blaine, you okay?" Mr. Schue asks, and Blaine nods.
"I'm just getting frustrated with the choreography," he replies. "I can't get it."
"It's okay, Blaine," Schue assures. "We'll just keep working on it. But for now . . . " he trails off, looking at the clock. "I do believe it's time for us to end. Great rehearsal everyone, and I'll see you all tomorrow morning."
Blaine runs a hand along the stubble grazing his jaw before moving over to his stuff.
"Hey - Blaine."
He looks up, and Finn stands, bending slightly over, his eyes glancing back at Kurt for a second.
"Are - are you okay?" he asks.
"I'm fine," Blaine says automatically. "Why?"
Finn fidgets, sighing. "It's just - Kurt is really worried about you. And I kind of am too, man. You've seemed really out of it lately, and you've been distant with us guys."
Blaine shrugs, not exactly sure what to say.
"I mean - I have a lot on my plate right now, but I'm okay, Finn," he says. "Or I will be. I'm just - I'm really stressed, but I'll be okay once I have some time to breathe and relax."
"O - Okay," Finn says, unsure. "But I just - I don't like seeing you like this, Blaine. You're not yourself lately. And I know we're not really close or anything, but you're my brother's boyfriend and I kind of feel like you're part of the family or something - you know, the way Kurt feels about Rachel. Well, they're best friends - but you know what I mean - when we're all together with my parents and stuff."
"Finn, you're babbling," Blaine cuts in. "But - thanks. And I promise you, I'm alright. Don't worry about me so much."
"You sure?" Finn asks, and Blaine nods. "I'm glad." He gives Blaine a small clap on the shoulder before joining Rachel and leaving the room.
Blaine picks up his bag and strings it over his shoulder, trying to ignore the heaviness of his heart.
.
.
It's only fitting that after a little reassurance and support from Finn, his dad has to bring him down.
Because right as Blaine starts diving into his AP Chemistry homework, his father comes upstairs, demanding to know why Blaine got a D on his last math test. It isn't long before it turns into a shouting match, ending when his father slams the door after a final word, and Blaine's left breathing hard, hands clenched at his sides.
God, he's just so sick of his father finding everything that's wrong with him. He's so sick of his father never seeing the good things that he can do - the things that he can do right, and then he ends up second-guessing himself, thinking that he's just an idiot and in reality he can't do anything right.
And it just sucks, because he tries so hard.
He tries to please his father. He tries to do things right and to keep control of his temper and to just do whatever it takes to make his father proud, but it's never enough.
And Blaine just doesn't know how much longer he can keep it up.
And so he ends up back on his bed, bringing his knees up to his chest, and he cries. All the anger leaks out of him and that awful feeling of worthlessness overcomes him.
It's all he wants.
All he wants is to make his father proud, to stop the fighting.
But that's never going to happen.
.
.
It just isn't getting any better.
No matter what Blaine does, everything seems to be falling apart.
But he's doing his best to stay strong. He's trying as hard as he can, but it's so hard. With his father's disappointment and the stress of school and his slipping grades and the bullies that just won't leave him alone -
And speaking of them, Blaine feels something collide with his back, and he's thrown into the nearest row of lockers. He slides to the ground, feeling as the handles scrape his back. He sighs heavily, leaning his head against the metal doors.
"See you 'round, faggot."
He just can't win.
.
.
And so now here is, just like he always is when it feels like the world is collapsing down around him.
He's dressed in sweatpants and old wife beater, the gloves feeling secure on his hands and he simply lets go. He thinks of his father, of the bullies, of everything in his life that sucks and he punches, punches, punches, letting everything out. He grunts and he grits his teeth and he squeezes his eyes shut for just a second, wishing he could do some real damage.
He just hates this.
He hates his father, he hates high school, he hates that he's never good enough.
He so fucking sick of nothing ever going right, everything going wrong and nothing making any sense. He's so fucking sick of doing everything that he can to try and feel accepted, to make people like him, to do whatever he needs to please people, only to be burned in the end.
He feels like he's going to explode.
Everything hidden away inside of him, everything he won't let people see is just bursting at the seams, spilling out, and pretty soon it's going to be a full-blow explosion, mushroom cloud and silver lining.
Because he just cannot do this anymore.
He can't keep this up - it's impossible.
He's wasting too much energy, too much time, too much strength and everything only gets worse, and it's the most awful feeling in the world.
Blaine stops for a second, letting his hands fall to his sides, and he stands there, breathing heavily.
And here we go.
Time to swap the anger for the hopelessness.
Blaine reaches for his right glove, unbuckling it and sliding it off. He heaves a deep sigh, running his fingers through his damp hair.
He knows it's hopeless when boxing only makes him feel worse. He just really wishes there was a way -
Suddenly, the door to the locker room comes open, and he hears a chorus of rowdy voices. His heart starts pounding, and fuck, what is he supposed to do? He can't just run out - not that he wants to, but usually he's strategic about this stuff, so he doesn't have to put himself at risk.
"What's this?"
The group of jocks comes to a halt, staring Blaine down.
"Well, well, well - look who decided to sneak in, boys."
The guys laugh as Rick smiles sickeningly, taking a step towards Blaine.
"If you haven't noticed, lady, this isn't the girls' locker room."
"I know that," Blaine snaps. "I'm not an idiot. I'm supposed to be here, moron."
Rick raises his eyebrows, biting his lip. He scoffs, starting to walk circles around Blaine.
"Obviously, you don't know that, homo," he retorts. "You don't belong here. No one wants you here - it's uncomfortable. And we don't need your glitter and sparkles raining all over our parades. Now get out."
"No," Blaine says shortly. "I was minding my own business before you came in here. And I have every right to use this place."
"Not when you're using it to get into our pants - whether we want to or not," Rick replies. "It's fucking disgusting. So I suggest you get out before I make you do it myself."
"Oh my god," Blaine mutters, and he pulls his glove back on. "I don't need this shit, alright? I'm not checking any of you out. I'm happily taken and I don't appreciate you accusing me of one - cheating, and two - wanting to rape you. You're the disgusting one, and I suggest you leave me be, because I'm not afraid to fight back."
"Fine," Rick says, crossing his arms. "If you want it that way."
And before Blaine knows what's happening, Rick steps forward and punches Blaine across the cheek. Before Blaine can even react, two more guys begin kicking at his legs, his back, his arms. He tries to fight, but there's too much force against him, and eventually he just takes it, wishing for it all to be over.
"What the hell is going on?"
"Hey - hey!"
"Rick, get off him now!"
"Artie! Artie, go get Coach Bieste!"
The bodies disappear from around Blaine, and then someone's pulling him up, holding him upright and trying to get him to stay steady on his feet.
"Blaine, are you alright?"
It's Sam, his hand gripping Blaine's shoulder and his expression worried.
"I'm fine," Blaine says quickly. "I just - I need to get out of here." He makes to leave, but Sam stops him.
"Whoa!" Sam says, grabbing his arm. "Blaine, wait - we should see if you're hurt - "
"I'm fine," Blaine says, more forcefully, and he pulls away from Sam roughly, leaving the locker room in a rush.
.
.
Blaine opens his locker with a sigh, grabbing what books he needs and shoveling them into his bag.
"Blaine - hey, Blaine!"
He looks around, cursing under his breath as Kurt comes rushing up to him. Kurt throws his arms around Blaine's neck, leaning in for a kiss, but Blaine pushes him away.
"Kurt, no - "
"Blaine?" Kurt asks, stepping back. He pauses, pressing his lips together, and defeated, asks, "Blaine, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Blaine says quickly, turning back to his locker.
"You know, I am really sick of hearing that," Kurt snaps, crossing his arms.
Blaine creases his eyebrows together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Because fuck - now Kurt - the one person Blaine thought would just let him be because he knows Blaine, knows what he wants and what he needs - is getting angry with him. He's getting snarky and pushy and it hurts, because Blaine thought for sure, that Kurt would let him talk when he needed to.
But now Kurt's just another person demanding answers, and it's not what Blaine needs right now.
"It means that there is obviously something wrong," Kurt says, raising his voice. "Something very wrong, and I wish you would stop pretending like there isn't. Okay, I know about what happened in the locker room. And I also know that you've been extremely distant lately. You're pushing me away and all I want is to help you."
"You can't help me," Blaine says sharply. "There's nothing to help."
"Yes there is," Kurt argues. "And God, I just don't understand why you can't tell me - your boyfriend, might I add - what the hell is going on with you."
Blaine scoffs. "Yeah, well there's a lot of things you don't understand."
He slams his locker shut, turns on his heel, and walks away, leaving Kurt standing there alone.
.
.
Blaine can't help it.
He presses the gas down hard, speeding from the parking lot and out onto the street. He runs lights, stop signs, only stopping when he reaches his house. He slams down on the breaks and steps out of the car, slamming the door shut.
He's just fucking fed up with everything, and God, why?
Why did his relationship with Kurt have to go onto the list of things he's fucked up?
Now he really feels hopeless.
He enters the house and shuts the door a little too loudly. He kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat, thinking about going up to his bedroom and just lying down, finding some peace after this awful day.
But those plans are canceled when he enters the living room to find his father sitting on the couch with his arms crossed.
"What?" Blaine asks, irritated.
"An F," his father says. "This time in Chemistry."
Blaine rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh.
"Don't roll your eyes, Blaine - this is serious," his father says sharply.
"I'm sorry, alright," Blaine says quickly, wringing out his hands. "I just have too much on my plate right now, and it's - "
"It's him, isn't it?"
Blaine stops short, raising his eyebrows at his father. "Who?"
"That boy," his father says, voice growing louder. "That boy is a bad influence on you, Blaine. You need to stop spending all of your time with him or your grades are just going to keep slipping. You won't be able to get into a good law school, you won't be able to get a decent job - "
"Hey," Blaine says sharply. "Don't you blame this on Kurt."
And even though he's angry with Kurt right now, even though he's still messed up over their fight, he's not going to let this turn into another argument over Kurt. He's not letting his dad put the blame on him again.
"Well, I'm just saying - "
"Kurt has nothing to do with this," Blaine says. "And you know that." He scoffs. "And God, I don't know why you always have to put everything on him. He helps me, Dad. He helps me with things when I'm stressed out. Without him, things would probably be worse."
"But you don't know that, Blaine," his father says. "Because you don't take any time away from him." He shakes his head. "I just don't know why you even waste your time with him when there are plenty of other nice girls who would do you good, and - "
"Not this again," Blaine says, leaning his head back and sighing heavily. "Dad, I'm not interested in girls - how many times do we have to go through this?"
"Well, if you would just give one a chance - "
"I have," Blaine says, starting to shout now. "I have, Dad, and things are still the same. Why can't you just get it through your head that I'm gay? This isn't a phase and nothing is going to change the way I feel about men."
"Blaine, just listen to me for a second," his father starts, but Blaine waves a dismissive hand.
"Forget it," he says acidly. "I don't need this right now. I have other things to worry about."
And with that Blaine leaves the room, heading upstairs to his bedroom.
"Blaine!" his father shouts after him. "Blaine Anderson, you get back down here right now - I'm not finished!"
"Well, I am," Blaine yells back, and he slams the door on his father's voice.
.
.
Blaine isn't sure how he ended up here.
All he knew is that he needed to calm himself down, and the logical answer was his anger control medication. So he went to the bathroom and he grabbed the bottle, but now he's simply staring at it.
And he's imagining a handful of pills sitting in the palm of his hand. And he's imagining throwing those pills into his mouth and swallowing, closing his eyes and letting the darkness take him over.
It would be so simple.
And he wouldn't have to keep living like this, barely making it through each day. He wouldn't have to deal with the bullies. He wouldn't have to deal with his father. Everything would just go away - like that.
No more pain, no more stress, no more anxiety.
He could do it.
But then his father's footsteps sound downstairs, and he realizes that maybe it's not the best time.
I can't do it now. I can't do it at home. Dad could come in. I need to do it alone.
Blaine shoves the bottle into his schoolbag, burying it deep under his books.
I'll drive somewhere alone and do it tomorrow.
.
.
Blaine walks through the halls of McKinley, not daring to look anyone in the eye.
Today. I'm doing it today after school.
But he doesn't.
.
.
It isn't until Friday that he's confident.
I'm doing it today. I have it all planned out and I won't back down.
I'll go to glee rehearsal, sing the group number for this week's assignment, and I'll subtly let everyone know how much I love them and how much I'll miss them. I'll shove the letter into Kurt's locker.
And then I'm gone.
I'm driving somewhere no one can find me, I'm swallowing the pills, and it's over.
I'm gone.
.
.
Blaine is standing at his locker, breathing deeply.
He's about to go to his last class - the last class he'll ever attend, and even though he's got it set in his mind, there's something surreal about all of this. That he's really going to do this; he's really going to end everything. All the pain, all the hurt, it will be gone in just a few short hours, and so will his life. He'll be free now; he'll be at peace.
But then something gets in his way.
"Blaine?"
He turns towards the timid voice, closing his locker halfway. Kurt stands there, twiddling his fingers and looking extremely anxious.
"What?" Blaine asks tiredly.
"We need to talk," Kurt says softly, and he reaches forward carefully, shutting Blaine's locker and taking his hand, his grip gentle.
Blaine doesn't have the heart to deal with this, but he's made his decision and one conversation couldn't hurt, could it? Blaine can already guess what's going to happen. He's been an asshole to Kurt and he doesn't blame him. And really, this would be the best way to leave, with nothing lingering in between them.
And so Blaine lets Kurt drag him down the hallway, around the corner, and into the choir room.
And surprisingly, he isn't all that upset. Kurt's breaking up with him - that much is obvious, but for some reason, maybe it's what Blaine has planned - it doesn't hurt as much as Blaine thought it would.
But of course - Kurt zigs when Blaine thinks he's going to zag.
Kurt stops in the middle of the room and faces Blaine. Digging in his pocket, he pulls out a small bottle and a folded up note. Blaine feels his heart beating fast, pounding against the inside o f his throat. Kurt presses his lips together, his eyes glistening with tears.
"Blaine," he says quietly. "I - "
"Where did you get that?" Blaine snaps quickly.
"Today during lunch," Kurt explains, voice shaking. "You left your bag on the table when you went to the bathroom."
"So you snooped through it?" Blaine asks, acid entering his rising voice. "Kurt, that's completely - "
"Blaine, would you just stop being so defensive?" Kurt asks through clenched teeth. "You need to stop pushing people away, or you aren't ever going to feel better."
Blaine flinches because well, Kurt's right. And God, he hates it. This - this isn't who is. This isn't who he wants to be.
But it's why he needs to get rid of that person.
"You've been thinking about suicide," Kurt says, and it's not an accusation; it's a fact. "Have you attempted it yet?" Blaine shakes his head. "But you're going to." And the look in his eyes - such a horrible mix of emotions - worry, fear, hurt,disappointment.
Blaine breaks - the most shattered he's been yet.
"It would just be so easy," he says, voice a whisper. "A handful of those pills and it would all be over."
"Blaine - "
"I'm so tired," Blaine says, voice cracking, eyes stinging with tears. "Kurt, I'm so tired - of all this. I'm so tired of feeling like this - feeling like I'm worthless, like I'm never good enough. I'm just so tired of fighting, Kurt. I want this to be done. I don't want to deal with this anymore."
And he's crying by the time he's finished. However, the tears leak down his face silently - no gasps of breath. He simply stands there, mouth parted slightly, eyes looking but seeing nothing.
Kurt steps forward, and carefully reaches for Blaine's hand, holding it in both of his. He rubs his thumb slowly over Blaine's wrist, and then presses his lips softly against Blaine's beating pulse.
"You don't have to do this," he says quietly.
Blaine shakes his head. "No one would care."
"I would," Kurt says sternly. "Blaine, you have to know I love you - "
"You'd get over me," Blaine counters. "Kurt, you deserve so much better than me. I fail you all the time, and I hate it."
"No," Kurt says, shaking his head. "You're amazing, Blaine. You're everything to me, and I don't ever want to lose you."
Blaine presses his lips together, but a sob escapes anyway.
"It's just - nothing helps," he says quietly. "Not glee club, not boxing, not anything. I can't shake this. Kurt, I can't - I can't do this anymore. I don't have the strength."
"Yes, you do," Kurt says, almost desperate. "And I'm going to help you, Blaine. I won't let you kill yourself. I will do everything and anything in my power to make sure you get better."
"Kurt," Blaine starts. "No, I - "
"You don't think I ever thought about suicide?" Kurt asks. "I did - especially right before I met you, but I made it through, and I'm going to make sure you do too. You're not going to go through this alone, Blaine."
Blaine shakes his head again, closing his eyes for a second. "I can't do it. I'm not strong enough."
"Yes you are," Kurt says sharply, and he squeezes Blaine's hand tighter. "You don't think so, but you are. Your bravery amazes me every day, but now," he says with a sigh, "it seems like you've reached the edge."
Blaine nods, letting out another sob. "I have," he admits. "And I hate it."
"And I told you," Kurt says. "I'm going to help you. You will get through this Blaine. We'll get through this."
Blaine can't argue anymore. Instead, he begins to cry harder, and Kurt pulls him into his arms, holding him tightly, and Blaine buries his face in Kurt's neck.
"I don't want to," Blaine chokes, pulling back for a second. "I don't want to kill myself, but I feel like it's the only option."
Kurt shakes his head, cupping Blaine's face in his hands. "It's not," he says fiercely. "Blaine, you don't have to do this."
Blaine reaches up, gripping one of Kurt's wrists, and Kurt does his best to force a smile. He leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss on Blaine's forehead.
"It will get better."