So, I wrote this as an audition piece for a RP and I'm not used to writing this sort of stuff so I figured I'd post it just because. Hope you enjoy it.
Kurt would kill Blaine if he knew how he had chosen to deal with this kind of pain, but then again, that was a punishment that Blaine would have gladly accepted right about now. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he cradled the bottle of Devil's Spring Vodka in his arms. Kurt had been gone for nine days now, and Blaine had taken to living in his apartment 24/7, only leaving the corner of the couch to get more antidepressants. He had only gone to the therapist after his friend, Jeff, forced him through the door, and even then he never went back once he got his prescription for the medications that ended up failing to remove everything. He had been instructed to make a follow up meeting, but he hadn't bothered. He was also told not to take alcohol while on the medication.
He didn't listen to much of anything anymore.
Teenage Dream was on repeat. Most people got sick of a song after 500 plays, but Blaine couldn't get enough of it. The song had brought Kurt to him in the first place, but this time Kurt wasn't going to show up on the staircase, asking for help. It was too late to help Kurt now, and Blaine would never forgive himself for not being there with Kurt. Blaine knew Kurt was more than capable of taking care of himself, but…he was still so delicate. Not the type of person who should be walking around the streets of New York alone.
He had nearly fainted when asked to identify the body in the hospital. There was no denying who it was, despite the cuts and bruises. So much for death being peaceful. There was nothing serene about the mangled body of Blaine's boyfriend…of Blaine's everything lying on the bed in the hospital room. It hadn't been until Blaine made it home that he collapsed onto the floor. He hadn't cried since the night of Sadie Hawkins, when he was in his own hospital bed, the sobs escaping with every breath as he begged his mother to let him transfer to the private boarding school to escape the bullies. He had ended up with a broken rib or two, covered in bruises and cuts that the bullies had left behind.
This hurt more. The bruises had faded, the cuts had left minimal scars, the ribs had healed. The nightmares of the night ceased to exist after a month or so.
Kurt was never coming back. This was the kind of pain that would only get worse with time. Antidepressants barely made a difference. Alcohol, however, seemed to numb Blaine at least, and feeling nothing was better than the pain. Blaine had always been a talented singer, but he had another talent.
He ran from the bullies, and now he was running from the pain of losing everything. No one had ever showed him love or compassion like Kurt had, and now that he was gone, Blaine had no idea what he was supposed to do.
He took another sip of the half empty bottle. He'd do anything to remember what it was like to feel his heart race whenever Kurt looked at him. It'd be a drastic change in comparison to the faint murmur of a heartbeat he had now. He exhaled weakly as he rested his head down, the song still playing softly throughout the room as he raised the bottle to his lips again. He thought of Kurt's face during Teenage Dream, and of how soft his lips felt against Blaine's, of how warm and perfect his hand felt when they walked along the streets of New York together. He thought of how beautiful Kurt's voice rang out when he sang, and how it was even more mystical sounding whenever he said Blaine's name.
And then everything faded to black, and Blaine fell unconscious as his heart stopped beating.
You and I, we'll be young forever.