❤ -sHRUGS-

Send ❤ for a non-specific kiss…
(rolled dice to get result via  list)  6.  ☆ – for a kiss on the neck @ofscarllet

The day used to be his favorite holiday.  One he looked forward to and planned every detail out down to a T.  Valentine’s Day was an excuse to get as cheesy as he wanted.  Down to shiny paper string hearts and sappy cards worded just right to make someone cry that wound up making you cry too. That’s what felt so good about it.  Sure, sure.  He had his new life.  He’d moved on after building up the walls of his heart and patching over the worst of the cracks. There were still a few that weren’t filled up right.  Occasionally, they’d crumble and his thoughts would travel across the city. Through miles of concrete and heartache he swore was down to a ghost arm version of itself.  Then they’d land on the person who he used to spend so much of this day doing those things for.  He wondered how Kurt was doing.  A seed of thought that dug deep, grew roots and spurned others.  Like who he might be spending it with now and–suddenly the idea of a rum and coke (or three and half) sounded a hell of a lot better than stuffed animals and chocolates in heart shaped boxes.  Right as he was about to get another, a familiar face but a vaguely unfamiliar tone drew him out of the place where his thoughts wandered off to.  Barry.

An hour later?  A helpful arm kept him steady.  He wasn’t too drunk to walk–barely drunk at all– but distractions came easy with liquor in his system and he’d already veered off twice forcing Barry to run and catch up.  The third sway to the side, his finger –POINTED– insistently at a nearby park bench.  Barry was stuck following him off one of Central Park’s paths they’d been walking down.  Once they were seated, Blaine’s head rested against Barry’s shoulder and he sighed towards the water not too far away.  “Thanks.  You could have stuffed me in a cab and sent me home.  I wouldn’t have blamed you.  I sort of talked your ear off.  You didn’t need to listen,” he gave Barry’s wrist a rattle and peeked up at his jaw.  He wasn’t sure when the light laugh of him to save some face died off but it did.  The scent of cologne and skin suffocated the noise as it drew him in.  The tip of his nose brushed against the spot first and he’d muttered something about Barry smelling good but that meant his lips moved dangerously close. Lingering there longer than he should have, Blaine coughed lightly to clear his throat–he tried to get air that wasn’t that scent and it didn’t work–and licked his lips before he caved.  One part loneliness, one part he wanted to. They grazed across Barry’s throat above the collar of his shirt and stayed there, sighing out a warm breath over the damp spot they left behind.  An apology rushed out of him once the gravity of what he did caught up. “Oh–God.  Sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I wasn’t thinking.”