Kinda Fun

that was not nice.

A smarter person might wait longer. It’s been a while since he saw Blaine and there was still time before he left, but less now. He had an eternity to live his life and create new ones when he simply couldn’t avoid questions about his never-aging face, but Kurt wasn’t one to wait around. This may be in part why he chose to see Blaine. It may not be quite the right time yet, but he dismissed the possibility in favor of disturbing Blaine’s definite hangover. Now, demons didn’t have some magic way of slipping into people’s homes, but something Oliver taught him before that became relevant was how to get into almost any building at any time. The guy wasn’t the most classy, what could he say. It came in handy, obviously. So yes, Kurt was breaking and entering, but really, what else was expected of him given his… State of being? That sounded about right. Once the door is shut behind himself, he wonders if it’s possible to have lost a social standard or something because since when did Kurt Hummel break into bedrooms instead of knocking? He shook off his concerns easily enough.

It wasn’t exactly early, but it was a weekend and judging by last night, Blaine could probably sleep for a lot longer. This was also something Kurt dismissed. He waited about five minutes, started to debate how to go about waking his friend for another two, and finally just pulled the pillow from under Blaine’s head.

Blaine was sprawled out on the bed thanks to having been dropped there.  One sober moment of clarity crossed his mind during the night.  A huge revelation came when he saw the string of text messages he was blabbering to Kurt in–I miss you being the confession he started his night out trying to forget?  The only thing that would erase his mistake of keeping his cellphone on him was more alcohol. A bad potentially idea that ended up–kinda good?  His friends were more than happy to keep the drinks coming so he didn’t notice when someone–he had no idea who–did him the favor of putting his cellphone in their pocket.  Three shots later–their Blaine was back.  Out on the dancefloor laughing drunkenly and dancing until the lights came on.  He was so sleeping in.  The house was empty.  If anyone crashed?  They didn’t pass out in his bedroom so he had quiet and dark and it was perfect.  His last thoughts were that his bed felt too good and maybe he might regret his life choices when he woke up with his pending hellacious hangover–and then nothing.  Until he felt the stomach churning sensation that he was falling, too dead asleep to realize it was only his head.  Blaine’s entire body reacted.

He gasped for air like he was drowning, hazel eyes flung open wide and every limb seemed to scramble for something to kick or hang onto–the side of the bed worked–to keep himself from meeting his doom on the floor. His mind didn’t quite make sense of anything either and he shouted in panic.  “OH God!  I’m FALL–,” his scream made his temples burst and splinter up his skull.  Blaine buried his face back down into the sheet, hand waving as if to say he was okay before he cracked an eye open and peeked up at–Kurt instantly blushing ten shades of red. “That wasn’t okay..  That was not okay..oh God my head hurts…” Groaning–he covered his face with his arm and fell back onto the bed wanting nothing more than to lay there.