I just wanted to do a warning here for the story as a whole. Please read at your own risk. This story is set in a rehab, therefore things will come up that may be sensitive to some. I just realized I didn't warn anyone for chapter one and, while I got no complaints, I don't want to hurt anyone unintentionally. Otherwise, please enjoy.
Blaine followed behind Kurt, speed-walking for a couple of steps to catch up.
"Where are we going?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
"It's where we go to frolic and play. Don't go too far though, or I'll have to get you a leash."
"I- I'm sorry," Blaine stuttered, "What?"
Kurt shook his head. "Oh, Bandit."
"My name's Blaine," He replied, becoming a little annoyed now. "And I'm not a dog."
Kurt gasped dramatically, but said nothing. The last few steps were silent. Kurt took his I.D. card from his back pocket and swiped it through the card terminal beside the elevator.
They waited for the doors to open, both of them remaining silent. Blaine, because of how Kurt was acting, was feeling even grumpier now than before, therefore he refused to say anything else. Kurt… well, who knew why he couldn't just speak like a normal person. Blaine decided he didn't care to find out either.
The elevator doors opened and Kurt stepped inside. Blaine followed suit, standing at the opposite end so he didn't have to be by Kurt.
Blaine decided, in the ride down, that since he couldn't just get out of here himself, he'd do his time quickly and leave. He was always good at faking things. He had faked emotions plenty of times. He was excellent at pretending… or, at least he used to be. Anyway, he'd do his time, get out, then get him the drinks he'd been craving since he woke up.
"Are you coming or what?" Kurt said, bringing Blaine out of his trance.
"Hm? Oh, yeah." He stepped off of the elevator and into a long hallway. He wasn't sure whether to go right or left at first, but when Kurt started walking to the left, Blaine followed.
"This is where the crazy people stay," Kurt said, his right hand stretched out and running against the side of the hallway as they walked.
There were doors on both sides of the hall. The doors to the left had all had doctors names on them, but to the right were just regular, wooden, hospital doors.
"They keep the doors locked," Kurt continued, "but if you sit down and just listen, you can usually hear them. There's someone that sits right by this door sometimes," He slowed down, his fingertips dragging over the door now, "and he'll talk to his mom, dad, and sisters. Took me a while, but I realized he was doing all the voices himself.
"And sometimes they'll get angry and slam into the door, trying to get it open. The door will rattle like crazy, but they've never gotten through. At least not that I've seen." Kurt looked over at Blaine, who felt a little like he was in the beginning of a horror movie, and smiled eerily. "It's better than reality TV," He added with a shrug. "Oh, and there are cameras in the halls and outside, so don't scratch your crotch or anything equally disgusting… unless you want sixty year old security guards watching you scratch your crotch. Then, be my guest."
They reached the end of the hall and Kurt, once again, slid his card through a terminal. The door clicked, and Kurt pushed it open. He continued walking and Blaine had to jerk out his hand to keep the door from slamming in his face. "Don't worry, I got it," He said bitingly.
"Mhm," Was all Kurt replied, his back to Blaine. "So, this is the courtyard, blah blah blah. You can be out here anytime from eight in the morning to six at night. No one ever really comes out here though cause it's friggin' boring. Too many flowers. Not enough trees." He turned around and took a step closer to Blaine. "I'm going back in," He said, staring into Blaine's eyes for only a second before looking away.
He walked off, leaving Blaine in the courtyard. Blaine was glad. He wanted to be alone. However, his happiness was short-lived as Kurt called out to him. "If you wanna get back up to the room, then get your butt over here. You don't have a card and the elevator won't move without one. I'm not waiting."
Blaine sighed and rolled his eyes, but he turned and caught up with Kurt anyway.
When they got back upstairs, Kurt looked at his watch. "Well, this was fun and all, but I gotta go. Don't follow me. Be a good boy and don't mess on the floor."
He walked off before Blaine had a chance to reply.
Another surge of anger flared through him at Kurt's comment, but he chose not to bite back. That was the problem. When he was sober, he let things happen. Drunk Blaine would have told him off by now.
But sober Blaine sighed and rubbed at his forehead, trying to ignore the headache that was coming on. He decided just to go back to his room and unpack, even though that would basically be the last step to admitting he wasn't just going to leave this place.
One he got back to his and Kurt's room, he walked over to his suitcase and unzipped it. He took his things out one by one and dropped them onto the bed, glad that his dad at least had the decency to pack his things correctly, instead of just throwing everything in.
He let his thoughts take over as he unpacked.
His dad… he just didn't understand. Alcohol helps him. He's weak and a baby and sad and pathetic, but not when he's a little drunk. Just enough to take the edge off. It's not as bad as everyone seems to think. Just a few drinks turns him into the confident, mouthier, happier, and better person that he longs to be. Like now… Blaine was sure that if he just had a little bit of alcohol in him, he'd be able to get out of this place. He could talk his way out of it right now, instead of having to stay for a few months to talk his way out slowly.
Sober Blaine just shouldn't exist. Of that, Blaine was sure. He didn't like this person… God, he needed a drink.
Just as he had finished pulling out his last shirt, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Blaine said unenthusiastically.
The door opened and a boy, who looked a little too happy for Blaine's taste, walked in. He had dark blond hair and brown eyes. He was muscly, but not too much, and had tan skin. He wore khaki shorts and a white t-shirt. Everything about him screamed beach.
"Hi, I'm Johnny," He said with a smile and a little wave of his right hand, a clipboard in his left. "I'm a mentor here and I'm just here to tell you everything that Marc forgot, which was probably a lot." He looked down at his clipboard, "You're Blaine, right?"
Blaine just stared at him for a moment, wondering how anyone in the place could possibly be happy, then replied, "Yeah."
"Great. Well," Johnny paused as he opened the clip and picked something up, "Here is your temporary I.D. card," He said, handing it to Blaine. "You'll get your permanent one in about a week. Also, here is your schedule. It's really not that much, there's a lot of downtime."
Blaine took the card and paper and dropped it onto his bed. "Thanks," He replied, although it was clear he didn't care.
"Right, so. Onto more important things. We have an electronics room here, at the end of the hall, where you can use a computer or one of the phones. Phone calls can't last longer than an hour, and they're all recorded and listened to. Computer use is two hours a day, but tons of sights are blocked so you can only really use it for school work. You'll need to use your I.D. number on the back of the card to sign into the computers too. Um, let's see..."
He looked down at his clipboard, but Blaine was pretty sure he already knew everything he was going to say by heart. It was just one of the things he did to make sure he didn't look too perfect.
"Visiting hours are from nine in the morning until six in the evening on Mondays, Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. Anyone is allowed to visit, and you are always allowed to decline seeing them if you wish. Room 561 is the visiting area, or you can walk around in the courtyard. Someone will just come get you if you have a visitor. They'll let you know who it is, and that's when you can decide whether you want to see them or not. Holiday visiting hours are from nine in the morning until eight at night. For people who don't get to leave on holidays, we have traditional holiday meals in the cafeteria.
"Now, you've probably already been to the rec room, but did Marc show you around?"
Blaine was a little surprised that he was going to be able to speak. He didn't think Johnny would ever stop. "N- No, he didn't."
Johnny nodded. "We have an entertainment center where you can watch movies or whatever. No fighting over the TV though. If someone's there before you, they get it. We have a movie night once a week, on Friday's, if you ever wanna come. We're not supposed to have food in there, but the people who work in the cafeteria are really nice and they always make us popcorn and cookies.
"That being said, the lunchroom is open all day. They have little snacks you can get in-between meals. It closes at nine, and getting a snack does not count as attending one of the two mandatory meals. There's one main meal- different every day- for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but if you don't like it, there are smaller, alternative meals you can have instead. It's usually just like cold sandwiches or salads, something like that.
"Mail comes every day, usually around four o'clock, and they just slide it under your door. If you get a package, it's taken to the main desk at the center of the floor.
"Room checks are random; They can happen day or night. The people here have the right to look through your drawers, etc., but they are not allowed to search you unless an officer is present. Do you have any questions?"
Blaine took a deep breath. He wasn't even sure he heard half of that. "Um, no."
"Okay. Well, if you do, I'm in room 504. Just two doors down."
"Okay," Blaine replied. Johnny was turning to leave when the door opened and Kurt walked in.
"How are you, Kurt?" Johnny asked as Kurt walked past him and toward his bed.
"Fine and dandy, Beaver," He replied, plopping down on his bed. "You?"
"I'm great. Thanks." His smile was so genuine that Blaine almost pitied him. He either didn't realize that Kurt's voice was dripping with sarcasm, or he really just didn't care. "I was just filling Blaine in on some things."
Kurt closed his eyes and folded his hands on top of his stomach. "You'd be surprised how little I care, Beave."
"Of course. Well," Johnny focused his attention back to Blaine, "like I said, if you need anything, I'm just two doors down. See ya."
"Bye," Blaine replied, giving Johnny a little wave as he left out of the room.
Blaine turned toward Kurt. "Beaver?" He questioned, a little afraid of what would come out of Kurt's mouth.
"His whole attitude screams Leave it to Beaver. I swear he came out of the fifties. From his looks to his obnoxious personality. Now, no more talking," Kurt opened his eyes and reached over to his nightstand, opening a drawer and pulling out a book. "I'm gonna read a little then go to bed."
"'Kay. I'm gonna get my shower, then put my stuff in my drawers."
"I'm not really interested in knowing every moment of your life."
Blaine's eyebrows furrowed, "But you like just told me what you were-"
Blaine sighed. The bite that was in Kurt's every word earlier was no longer there, but he was still as annoying as ever. Instead of letting himself think about it anymore, he picked up a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then went to the bathroom. He decided that, for the next fifteen minutes, while he was getting clean, he was going to curse his parents, ex-friends, and their parents for doing this to him.
The next day just felt like torture for Blaine.
First of all, he never really slept. He'd doze off every once in a while, then would wake right back up. He didn't like his lumpy, twin sized bed, or the fact that he had to sleep next to a probably-aggressive person who didn't seem to like him very much. For all Blaine knew, the second he'd finally be fully asleep, Kurt would murder him with an axe... It made sense to him at three in the morning.
He gave up on sleep around six thirty and got up to take another shower. He didn't usually shower right when he woke up, but the thought of laying in foreign sheets made him feel itchy and gross.
By the time he got out of the bathroom at six fifty-five, Kurt was gone. Blaine was a little confused, as Kurt had seemed to be completely out of it when he had gone into the bathroom.
He picked up his schedule from his nightstand and looked over it. The only thing he had to do today was attend a group meeting at one o'clock. He was already dreading it. No part of him wanted to get up in front of a group of kids he didn't know or care about and tell them his supposed "problems" that he didn't have.
He decided to go to breakfast, just so he could swipe his card through and have one meal done for the day. He didn't feel like eating, no matter how much his stomach growled. He tried not to think about the fact that he hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before. He hadn't eaten lunch at at school, opting to drink his lunch instead.
Yesterday, Blaine had been way too hungover to realize just how angry he was about the situation. Since he had woken up, there seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face.
After breakfast, which he spent in a corner table with his head down to make sure no one spoke to him, he went back to his room. Kurt, who he hadn't seen at breakfast, still wasn't there. Blaine couldn't figure out why he even cared. Maybe he just needed Kurt's obnoxious attitude around. Maybe he needed someone to get angry at, instead of only being able to tell his parents off in his head. That wasn't getting him anywhere.
He wanted to see them, yell at them, tell them what horrible parents they were.
But, more than that, he wanted a drink. He missed the bitter taste of alcohol on his tongue. He missed the way his brain felt with it. He missed the slight blurriness that clouded his vision. He missed the way it made him so carefree and weightless. Like there were no problems in the world.
He spent the next few hours holed in his room, refusing to leave. He'd lay on his bed, look out the window- which had a view of trees, and a few surrounding buildings-, and look around in the bathroom.
He read every ingredient in Kurt's shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles. Then, every ingredient in his own.
Yeah, he was bored.
He wondered where Kurt was more times than he'd ever admit. It wasn't that he liked him, cause he hated him, it was just that he seemed to have disappeared. What could he possibly be doing to keep him from his room since six thirty that morning?
Blaine went to lunch at noon, picking up a banana to eat because he couldn't deny his hunger any longer.
He hated every bite of that banana he took. He felt like it was betraying him somehow. Like it was another thing he was being forced to do.
God, he hated that banana.
A few minutes before one o'clock he headed to room 512. There was a group of boys all filing into the room. Some silent and to themselves, and others laughing and talking to others. Blaine decided that those were the people who had given up on ever getting out of here. You don't make friends in rehab.
All of the seats were in a circle. Blaine took the first one he could find, hoping he'd be furthest away from Dr. Marc, or whoever may be doing the session today.
He crossed his arms over his chest and sunk into his seat. He was the epitome of an angry child who hadn't been allowed to get the toy he wanted at the store.
When he finally looked around, he saw that Kurt was there. He was two seats away. He wasn't speaking to anyone, but just looking around at each person with a judgmental glance. Blaine wondered if that was the only facial expression he could make.
Since no girls came in, Blaine figured today must be an all-boy day. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse.
A couple of minutes after one o'clock, Dr. Marc entered. Blaine had already decided that he must be unprofessional, seeing as he showed up a whole two minutes late.
This was the part Blaine had been dreading. The inevitable introduction and questioning that he'd have to do in front of everyone.
Except, Dr. Marc didn't call him out. He actually didn't say anything to Blaine the entire session. No one did.
Dr. Marc simply began by asking who would like to start, and a tall, red headed boy with lots of freckles raised his hand. Dr. Marc nodded, telling him- Eli- to go ahead.
Blaine figured this is where they spoke about how they've progressed or regressed since the last session, but instead Eli talked about his family visiting, his schoolwork, and how he still thinks Daniel cheated on the video game they apparently played three weeks ago. Everyone except Blaine and Kurt laughed; evidently it was an inside joke. The only explanation Blaine could come up with for Kurt not joining in is that he was incapable of laughter. It didn't seem too far fetched to him.
Not everyone talked during the session. There were fourteen people in the group, and six or seven spoke. After an hour, and Dr. Marc making sure that no one else wanted to say anything, he let everyone go.
Blaine went straight back to his room. He wondered if Kurt would follow, but after ten minutes of sitting on his bed, he figured that wasn't going to be happening.
Becoming even more bored than he thought humanly possible, he walked over to the desk and opened the drawers. The first two were empty, but the third drawer had some paper and pencils.
Blaine took out the paper and the pencils and went back to his bed.
He leaned back against the headboard with his knees bent up, the paper resting on his legs. He decided that, since he had so much he wanted to say to his parents, but no way to say it to their face, he would write it. If they were going to put him through this unnecessary hell, he'd return the favor.
He spent the rest of the day writing and rewriting until he had scribbled down everything he thought of them.
I based Blaine's attitude off of me and how I get when I have to do something I don't wanna do. It's kind of an exaggerated version, but still... (I only say this cause on one of my other stories, someone got mad at me because it was "too AU." Not sure I really get that, but...)
Thanks for reading and reviewing :) Means a lot.