Okay, so, Googling stuff takes a ton of time and I get different answers for everything, so I sort of made up my own rules for this rehab center. I tried to keep them realistic as possible, so give it a chance before you click the X. I know not everything will be correct, but it is what it is.

Otherwise, thank you and enjoy.

"You don't care 'bout me. You just don't."

"Blaine, be quiet."

"You pre- pretend to, but y-you don't."

"Of course I do, Blaine. That's why I let you change schools. After what happened at Westerville South High I knew- I thought- Dalton would be better for you."

"You just sent me there to get rid of me."

"That makes no sense."

Lloyd closed the door behind him as he watched Blaine carefully to make sure he didn't suddenly fall.

"You make no sense!"

Lloyd sighed. "I'm so tired of this, Blaine. I can't keep doing this."

Blaine walked over to the stairs. He glared at them, and it looked as though he was climbing them in his mind, then he turned and simply sat on the next to bottom step. "You don' do anything."

Lloyd walked over closer to Blaine, staring down at his son. "I've had to pick you up from Chaos twice just this past month, and we're only in week two of the month. And today I have to pick you up from Dalton because you were drinking on campus! You were expelled, Blaine! Expelled! Do you understand that?"

"I know what it means," Blaine replied, now glaring at the ground. "…But, you're just angry that Chaos is a gay bar. I- If it would have been a normal person bar, you wouldn't care."

"Blaine, I don't give a crap that it was a gay bar!" Lloyd replied, speaking very clearly so his slightly drunk son would understand. "I care that it is the trashiest gay bar in Ohio. Possibly the United States. I care that all four total times that I've picked you up there, you were so drunk that you were about to go in the back room with men that I'm pretty sure were double your age, if not more.

"I will not do this anymore, Blaine. Do you understand me?"

Blaine looked up at his dad, "I never asked you to pick me u-up. I wanted to be there! Wes and David shouldn't have called you!"

"Really? You wanted to go to the back room with those men? Let them use you however you wanted? Not remember your first time when you woke up the next morning? Or maybe you would never wake up after they used you. I wouldn't put drugging people past them. What if they would have taken you? Or killed you? The people that go to that bar are not good people, Blaine!"

"Stop yelling!"

"No! I will not sit back and watch you destroy yourself! Yes, I did stupid things in high school. I got drunk and I snuck into bars, but never to this extent, Blaine. Never! I did not drink during school and I most certainly did not cuss out my friends because they were worried about me!

"I will not continue to watch as your mother cries herself to sleep of the nights. I will not spend another night lying awake, wondering if you're really at a friend's house or if you're drunk out of your mind and getting screwed by some pervert. I will not answer the phone another time, knowing it's going to be one of your friends telling me you drunk texted them and they're worried you're in trouble. I won't do it, Blaine! When your friends stop covering for you, there's a problem!"

Blaine huffed, holding onto the bannister and standing up. "What are you going to do then, huh? You have some magic plan? You want me to cry to you and say 'Oh, daddy, I'm so sorry. I won't do it again?' Is that what you want? Not gonna happen!"

Lloyd let out a deep breath. "I didn't expect that, Blaine," He said, his voice becoming far too calm. "I've almost got your bags completely packed. I called a rehab center in Columbus, they're expecting us in two hours."

Blaine looked at his dad with more hate than Lloyd had ever seen. "You're insane."

"No, I'm not. I care about you, Blaine. I looked this place up. They're one of the best places for teens."

"I don't want help! I don't need help!" Blaine yelled, turning and storming up the stairs.

"It's not your choice, Blaine. You're under eighteen. It's my decision, and you're going," Lloyd replied, following Blaine up the stairs. "If you don't at least try this, then you're cut off. I won't pay anything for you anymore. I know you want to go to New York one day, and you know I'd help you with that, but I won't let you have a penny if you continue to act this way. So, unless you wanna hitch rides with truckers and earn money by being a prostitute for every Tom, Dick and Harry out there, you'll go to rehab!"

They were in the hallway now, and the words his dad said seemed to suddenly make Blaine severely angry. He quickly turned around and clumsily lunged at his father. However, the turn made him extremely dizzy, and before he knew it, he was being caught by his dad and falling to the ground. The last thing he heard before passing out was the sound of his dad letting out a deep, tired sigh.

Blaine slowly began waking back up. The first thing he saw was a white ceiling that looked very different from the one in his bedroom. His eyebrows furrowed as confusion crept over him.

He blinked a few times, then groaned slightly when he realized he had a headache.

"Finally!" Someone to his left exclaimed. Blaine looked over quickly, his head instantly regretting the jerky movement.

A boy was there, throwing down a magazine and getting off of the other twin bed in the room.

"I never thought you'd wake up," The boy said. "I was about to resort to throwing a bucket of water on your head."

Blaine sat up slowly, staying quiet as he tried to figure out where he was. He looked around the room. The walls were an off-white color, and completely bare. The floor was hardwood. There was a dresser right beside the bed he was in, to the right, and a nightstand to his left.

Right after his nightstand was another nightstand, then another bed, then another dresser. They were all identical.

Across the room was a desk. Only one. It stood against the wall, between their beds.

All of the furniture was a dark oak. It looked cheap, like it had been used for a long time.

There was a window on the left wall, but the blinds, which were stuck in-between the outer and inner layer of the window, were almost completely shut, making it hard to see outside.

He took this all in quickly as whoever else was there walked across the room and into what Blaine guessed was a hallway that led to outside, and possibly a bathroom.

"Wh- Where am I?" Blaine asked cautiously, his voice sounding a little rough.

The boy returned from the hallway, carrying Blaine's suitcase. "Columbus Rehabilitation Center," He replied flatly, dropping Blaine's suitcase on his bed. "You need to unpack. Do it neatly too; I don't put up with disgusting, messy people. Your furniture is what's closest to the bed you've been dumped on, don't touch my stuff. You can use the desk too, I don't need it for anything. We're supposed to share it, I guess. A "sharing exercise," or some sort of crap like that. Whatever."

"Why am I here?" Blaine questioned, everything feeling a little cloudy.

The boy sighed, then made his way over to his dresser. "That's for your therapist to decide, not me… Although," He added as he opened the top drawer and pulled out a notebook, "I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that you had to be carried in here and you reek of alcohol."

Blaine groaned, moving around so his legs were now hanging off the side of the bed.

"I'm supposed to inform you," The boy said as he walked back over to the hallway, stopping right before he disappeared, "You are to report to room number 532 to speak to Dr. Marc. I suggest you do that before you unpack."

And with that, the boy was gone. Blaine heard a door open, then quickly shut back, letting him know the boy had slipped out.

Blaine was still too confused to be angry as he stood up and walked to the hallway.

He was correct about his earlier assumption. There were two doors in the small hall area. One to the right, which Blaine figured was the bathroom, then one straight ahead.

He opened the door that was straight ahead and slowly peaked out, almost as though he was sneaking out and trying not to get caught.

The hall was empty, so Blaine stepped out and closed the door behind him.

The floor outside of the room was a white, speckled tile. It was the kind that, no matter how clean it was, it always looked dirty.

He began walking down the hall, making sure he went in the right direction to hit room 532.

The walls were… strange. It was clear that they had been painted white, but they were covered with writings. Different colors of permanent markers had been taken to the walls. Blaine read some of the things that had been written as he walked by. There were names, dates, poems, inspirational words, curse words, and Blaine was sure he even read a couple of death threats.

The doors, which were an olive green color, were covered with writings too.

Blaine should be angry. He should be seething. But, maybe he wasn't because he just couldn't take this seriously yet. Nothing seemed real. Maybe he was dreaming? He'd wake up from his alcohol induced slumber and realize that this was all a ridiculous dream. It had happened to him before… although, that time dinosaurs had been involved.

A couple more steps brought Blaine to room 532. Underneath the room number was the name Dr. Marc, so Blaine knew he had to be in the right place.

He wasn't sure whether he should just go in or not, so he decided to knock. After hearing a deep, "Come in," Blaine slowly opened the door.

When he peeked his head in, he saw a young, tall man with brown hair, black rimmed glasses, and a slim but muscular figure placing a book on a bookshelf. He wore blue jeans with a pink, long-sleeved shirt and a black vest over it.

As Blaine stepped inside, the man looked over at him and smiled. "Blaine," He said, then motioned over at a chair, "Have a seat."

Blaine, without saying a word, closed the door behind him, walked to one of the two chairs, and sat down. The man also sat down, behind his desk of course.

"I'm Dr. Marc," He began, "But I'm guessing your roommate already told you that."

"I'm Blaine," He introduced, then immediately felt dumb because, duh, Dr. Marc had already said his name.

"I know," Dr. Marc replied. "I just finished speaking with your dad about an hour ago. I also helped carry you to your room when you arrived."

He didn't speak to Blaine as if he were judging him, he was simply stating facts. However, Blaine still looked down sheepishly. The fact that he was no longer under the influence of alcohol made him care more than he'd like.

"Anyway," Dr. Marc continued, "I take it you've met your new roommate?"

"Um-" Blaine cleared his throat, "Not officially, no. He told me where to come and- and how to unpack?"

Dr. Marc nodded. "Guess I should have figured," He said with a sigh. "Well, his name is Kurt Hummel. He's your same age, just a few months older. He's… He's a lot to take in at first, but you two should get along okay," He added, not sounding convincing at all.

Blaine didn't really think about what he was saying though, as the realization that he was going to be living here started to sink in.

Blaine simply stared at the man for a moment before speaking. "You- You mean I have to actually stay here? I can't just check myself out?"

Dr. Marc took a deep breath. "You're under eighteen, Blaine, and a parent checked you in. They had evidence that you were, in fact, in trouble and in need of help. You came in here under the influence. Unless I, or one of your parents, discharge you, you're staying."

"This is ridiculous!" Blaine exclaimed, throwing his hands up in disbelief. "He seriously thinks I need rehab? Oh my God!"


"No, listen," Blaine interrupted, leaning forward, "My dad overreacts, okay? That's all it is. Yes, I've gotten drunk a couple of times, but- but I'm a teenager! It's normal!"

"Blaine, from what I've seen and heard today, your father is not overreacting. You had alcohol in your locker, and you were drinking all throughout lunch. Your friends are so concerned that they turned you in to the principal, Blaine. That should tell you something. There's a problem. You've been drunk for more of this month than you've been sober."

Blaine shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. "Of course you're taking his side. Everyone does."

"I'm not taking anyone's side, Blaine. I'm stating facts."

He waited for Blaine to speak, but when he was met with silence, he stood. "Come with me," Dr. Marc said, passing by Blaine and going to the door.

Blaine pushed up out of his seat angrily as Dr. Marc opened the door and led them out of the room. They began walking, now side by side, further down the hall as Dr. Marc spoke. "We have group meetings at room 512. Twice a week, the group meetings will be all-male. And the other two times it will be both male and female. Once a week, unless otherwise stated, you and I will meet alone. However, if I feel it necessary, we could be meeting all seven days. Groups sessions are supposed to be one hour, but they're known to go up to three hours sometimes. One on one sessions last a minimum of forty-five minutes, even if you refuse to say a word. Also, I schedule my sessions so that we can have up to an hour to talk. I don't like the feeling that I'm on a time limit."

They reached the end of the hall, stopping at two double doors. "This is the cafeteria," He said, opening one of the doors and walking in, then holding it open for Blaine to come in after him. "Breakfast is served from seven to nine in the mornings. Lunch is from noon to one-thirty. Dinner is from five to seven in the evenings. It is required that everyone attend two meals a day. The only reason not to is if you're sick. You'll be given a card that you swipe at the checkout line for each meal you attend. It lets us know you were there without having to call out everyone's names at each meal. The card will also be used for taking the elevator. Instead of pushing a button, you swipe it. There is only one other floor you are allowed on, so it will take you directly there."

Dr. Marc began to leave the cafeteria, motioning for Blaine to follow.

"You can continue your schooling," He continued. "We have a sort of work-at-your-own-pace program here. We give you your work at the beginning of the week and it's due by Friday night. We go by the public school system, so it may be a little behind Dalton, but it's a good program. We also have tutors here if you need them… You have the option of dropping out or getting your GED, of course, but I don't recommend that. We require you to at least try our program before deciding what you want to do."

Dr. Marc stopped as they reached the middle of the hall. "The east and west wings are the females rooms. The north and south are for the males. Males and females are not allowed to be in the same room at any time. And we have cameras in the halls, so don't think we won't know."

Blaine sighed as the doctor continued walking. Honestly, all he kept thinking was that he needed a drink to deal with all of this. It was just too much to handle sober.

"However, you are allowed in the recreational room, cafeteria, and outside, together. Shaving is only allowed when supervised-"

"I'm not a cutter," Blaine found himself saying offensively before he even thought.

Dr. Marc stopped and looked over at him. "I didn't think you were. Even so, some people are." He continued walking once again, until he reached a bathroom door, "We have a main bathroom for the boys," He said, pointing to it, "and a separate one for the girls of course, which is always supervised. That is where you will shave, brush your teeth, and put on any type of cologne. The bathroom in your room is simply for going to the bathroom and showering."

Blaine stared at him like he was crazy, so Dr. Marc explained.

"We weren't always so strict, but seven years ago a seventeen year old committed suicide by eating both his and his roommates entire bottles of toothpaste."

"Doesn't sound like you have a good record for actually making people better," Blaine replied bitterly.

"We actually do have a very good record. Ninety-five percent success rate. Nevertheless, recovery has to be a two-way street. If the other person isn't willing to try to get better then there's only so much we can do."

"So you blame the kid?"

"Not at all. I do think he gave up on himself; That he felt he was too far gone."

Blaine looked away from him, crossing his arms. "You might as well not even try with me, you know. I don't want to be here. I was forced. That's not a two-way street."

Dr. Marc was silent for a moment before replying. "Sometimes, Blaine, the people that were "forced" here realize they really did need help, they just didn't know how to ask."

Blaine didn't respond.

"Let's continue our way to the rec room," The doctor said once he knew that Blaine wasn't going to say anything more.

"Where are they?"

"All around you right now. There's two little ones with wings, then four bigger ones with horns."

"Are they saying anything?"

"H- Hold on. I'll figure it out."

"Kurt!" Dr. Marc called out as he entered the rec room. "How many times do I have to tell you? Leave. Trevor. alone."

"But he likes me!" Kurt called back, "And he's so friggin' entertaining."

"Come here. Now."

Kurt sighed and got up from his chair. "Let me know later, Trev."


"What?" Kurt said, coming up to Dr. Marc and Blaine.

"If you're bored, watch a movie. Don't mess with Trevor's head."

"The movies here suck. Plus, Trevor came up to me this time. He said I had people floating around my head… You know, this wouldn't be a problem if you'd just get me the puppy I've been asking for."

"Yeah, well, since that's never gonna happen, why don't you go show Blaine the outside grounds. You know Blaine, right? Your roommate. The one you were supposed to kindly introduce yourself to."

Kurt looked at Blaine, staring over his entire body. Blaine could feel the Kurt judging every last part of him.

Finally, Kurt sighed. "Fine," He said, beginning to leave out of the room.

When Blaine didn't follow, Kurt whistled back at him, "Come on, Bandit."

I'm nervous about this one. I hope you guys like it. I'll try to update regularly, but I'm taking college classes, and packing two houses to move so "regularly" may not be so regular.

Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing! Much love!

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