If you truly hate yourself, go listen to Love Of My Life by Queen. It's the song that breaks Blaine.
Blaine drives straight home after his fight with Kurt. He leaves the room without looking back, runs down the stairs and to his car, and refuses to think about anything except getting home in one piece until he’s locked in his room. He almost fails, his thoughts catching up with him while he waits at a red light, and he wills it to change as he feels his throat tightening and his eyes watering.
The second his bedroom door is closed behind him, he closes his eyes and opens the dams. Everything he’s kept locked inside some dark recesses of his mind comes crashing to the forefront and he gasps, staggering blindly until his shins collide with the edge of his bed and he climbs on it, crawling on all fours until he can’t anymore and he bends forward, burying his head in his hands and pushing down against the mattress.
He’s not crying, not yet, but he knows it’s coming. The fight keeps replaying in his mind; first, the feeling like someone dropped molten led in his stomach after he read the messages and then the stake right through his heart when he saw Kurt replied. Encouraged it. Participated. Then it’s the fight itself, how quickly Kurt became defensive and tried to make it sound like it’s not a big deal, like he didn’t—
Blaine takes a deep breath and straightens up, sitting on his haunches and rubbing his face with his hands as he looks around, not taking in his surroundings. He feels like he’s underwater or in a deep fog, like he’s lost his bearings and he’ll get lost if he tries to get anywhere.
Kurt cheated. The words resonate in his head, growing and becoming larger and larger until they’re like a scream, until his mind is buzzing with denial and vertigo.
Or did he? It was only text messages. Blaine shifts and sits cross-legged, his fingers tangled and squeezing, the flex of his muscles and the slight pain that comes with gripping too hard grounding him into reality. Kurt cheated. He did. It feels like he did, at least.
It’s his own fault. As soon as that thought crosses his mind, Blaine lets out a joyless laugh which turns into a sob, and yes, there it goes, the tears. It’s the kind of tears that are not satisfying, the ones that need to be forced out and make his throat ache as the sobs seem too big to get out, more like coughs than anything. It feels like he’s drowning and can’t quite breathe, his lungs burn like he’s ran all the way from Kurt’s house.
Well, he did run away, figuratively. It might have been more liberating to actually run.
It’s his fault. He’s been acting distant. He pushed Kurt away and it’s so cliché he feels like throwing up, but he did it so that when it happens, when Kurt inevitably moves to New York and discovers that there’s a world outside of Lima, outside of boyfriends who try to act and talk like grown-ups and he leaves Blaine, he’ll be ready. He loves Kurt enough to not hold him back.
“You’re pitiful, Anderson.” He spits out the words to the empty room. He wipes his eyes angrily and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, which only increases his anger. “It’s your fault. Kurt would be right to break up with you.”
His chin starts shaking again and he groans loudly, almost wildly. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that after years of hell, his life finally goes right before everything is taken away from him. Everyone leaves him, after all. Right when he gets attached. They leave. They always do.
“Calm down,” he says out loud.
He takes a deep, steadying breath and lets it out shakily. He keeps breathing deeply until the surplus of oxygen makes his head spin. There’s a logical explanation. There has to be one. There’s always one. People just don’t abandon other people for no reason, he knows that. He’s not making any sense. He needs to calm down. Music will help. Music always helps. It’ll give him something to focus on.
Blaine walks to his stereo on shaky legs. His eyes immediately well up when he turns his iPod on, the background picture one he took of Kurt, the sun shining on his face and making his eyes bluer than the sky behind him. Blaine manages to set it to shuffle before he can’t see anymore through his tears and he hurries back to curl up on his bed.
The first song to come on is from the soundtrack of a movie he can’t place, all strings and brass, the music booming out of the speakers and emptying his head. He closes his eyes and heaves out a sigh. His break lasts until the next song comes on and his eyes spring open.
The opening bars of piano almost sound regal, the kind of melody you’d expect to be played on a harpsichord. Blaine is still not quite sure whether he needs to run to his stereo to skip to the next song yet, he could be wrong, he could confuse the song with another one. By the time he hears the harp, he knows it’s too late. He won’t have time to reach his stereo before the song really starts and stabs him in the heart repeatedly.
The first line - hell, the first words - coax a sob out of him once more. This time he grabs the nearest pillow and presses his face into it, clinging to it like it’s a lifeline. Like it’s Kurt.
Kurt, who betrayed him. Kurt who’s in the process of replacing him for someone brand new. Someone who’s probably taller, and smarter, and older. Someone who’s going to be in New York next year, who’s getting out of Ohio and who’ll get to spend all of his time with Kurt. Someone who won’t be a burden from his past that Kurt will carry into his future.
They were supposed to grow old together. They were supposed to get married. To have children. And now Kurt is throwing it all away for a new guy he just met.
Blaine straightens up. Exactly. Kurt has just met Chandler. He can’t—he wouldn’t throw away everything they have for a new guy. Would he? He slumps back forward when he remembers how quickly Kurt fell for him. Kurt needs attention and Blaine has been withholding it. It’s his own fault. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t what Kurt needed and now he’s being replaced.
Well, good for that new guy. Good luck handling Kurt. It takes one hell of a good nature to deal with that boy. He can have Kurt, if he wants him. He can live without him. Kurt is just a person. He’s nothing more than a boy, nothing more than a human being, with flesh and bones and blood.
Blaine groans and flops on his back, still hugging his pillow to his chest. Kurt is more than just a boy. He’s Blaine’s boyfriend. He’s the love of his life. His soulmate.
He’s a cheater. Blaine frowns at the ceiling, his fingers digging into the pillow. After all he’s done for Kurt, all he sacrificed, Kurt had the nerves to go and cheat on him. He jeopardized all they have for a schoolboy flirt.
Blaine’s eyes flick to his stereo and then he’s up and crossing the room, unhooking his iPod from the dock and scrolling through his music.
Kurt’s words keep playing in his head: “it’s okay!”
Blaine stops scrolling on the song he was looking for. He found his song for this week’s assignment.