cooper.

Cooper’s eyebrows shot up as Blaine suddenly blurted out everything, he’d known that Blaine wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t quite expecting that. Still, he’d offered to help, and he was still working on being the big brother that Blaine deserved, so he made a mental vow to do whatever he could to help Blaine get through all of this. “Okay…” he said slowly, picking up the two mugs and carrying them over to the table in the middle of the room, gesturing for Blaine to follow him, this wasn’t a conversation that imagined they could have standing up.

“So when you say chaotic, you mean…?” he was a little ashamed to admit that he didn’t know the entirety of what was going on with his brother right now, he knew he had that competition the next morning, when Cooper was planning on showing up show his support, but everything else? Yeah, he didn’t have a clue. He picked up his mug, taking a small sip from it, though he kept his eyes fixed on Blaine, studying him the entire time, “You know you’re going to kick ass tomorrow, you were born to be on that stage, you don’t need to question that, ever. But, everything else? That’s just life, Squirt, none of us can predict what’s going to happen, we just have to ride it out. But you don’t need to keep it to yourself, don’t bottle it up until it gets you like this, you hear me?” he reached across the table, placing his hand on top of Blaine’s and giving it a little squeeze.

Sitting down facing Cooper, Blaine lifted his bare feet and pressed the backs of his heels against the lip of his chair. Knees bent and shins braced to the edge of the table, he wrapped one arm loosely around his knees and stretched the other out as far as he could. Fingers up, a slight curl to them was a silent plea for a touch or anything close to it that he could get to feel connected to someone who’d keep him grounded. The world felt like it was slipping away. Like at any moment, the floor could open up and he’d fall in and end up tumbling head over heels in a dizzying forever. Because that’s what every night felt since he lost Kurt. Why? He was so stupid and ruined them. That’s why. Half his friends were gone. The place he was drawn to return to because it felt like home, when McKinley felt like a haunted house he had to walk through the halls of day in and day out, seemed to be crumbling apart at the hands of a psycho. Instead of fixing it, of fighting for the place he loved, he went back to McKinley. Essentially turning his back on people who meant the world to him and needed him because what the hell were they becoming?

And that was only the dark part of the iceberg. The stuff above the surface? The smaller things? Were so stacked on top of each other that he felt like they could reach the sky and disappear into the clouds. “This isn’t like me. I know,” the touch he was waiting for came and he clamped his hand around Cooper’s tight holding on for dear life. “I talk about my problems. I don’t get this way. Or so everyone thinks.. How am I supposed to ride this out, Coop? I don’t even know what road I’m on.. I’m..I’m lost. For the first time in over a year. I feel..,” his shoulders shrugged hopelessly in time with the word, “lost. I’m trying so hard to find my way back again. I will. I always do. I’m just struggling right now. That’s all.”

who’s to say you ever lost it?

Sebastian heard the words, though he was on the verge of sleep.
It felt nice. Almost out of it, but still conscious. He was peaceful
now, as Blaine accepted him on his arm, and amazingly it FIT. He
never thought they would, but they did. His forehead rested against
Blaine’s throat his nose lightly nudging his collarbones as the car
started juggling. His breath coming out warm against Blaine’s skin.
He felt better than he had in weeks. He didn’t quite mind where they
were going, as long as it was a long trip. He wasn’t nauseous. He
didn’t get nauseous since his second time getting hammered. And
that was a long time ago. For long minutes he stayed silent. Wavering
between sleep and consciousness, enjoying Blaine’s warmth, softness,
the way it felt to be in his arm. Something Sebastian dreaded with
every other person. It crawled his skin to be INTIMATE with people.
But right then, drunk with Blaine, it didn’t. At all. It felt good. He could
stay in that cab forever. Eventually though, he did speak, as he adjusted
himself from how the movement had bumped him, comfortably set
by Blaine’s side. ‘Would’I hav’… a chance, if I didn’?? ‘ He asked
quietly. And despite his struggle with the words, they were serious.
His green eyes opening to look up at Blaine. Eyebrows set.

Blaine cradled the slender body against him as the cab drove towards
his apartment. Thinking better ten minutes into Sebastian’s drifting in
and out–Blaine had the driver change course towards Sebastian’s instead.
If he was going to be hellishly hung over? The last thing he’d need was to
sit in traffic the next day when Blaine drove him back. Passing out in your
own bed is far better anyway. The cabbie didn’t care. More money. In the
meantime–Blaine lets Sebastian doze or rustle and stops fighting the urge
to cup the back of his head or twist a strand of hair between his fingers as
they move through traffic. One particular bump brought Blaine back from
where his thoughts were stuck in a place they shouldn’t be. Apparently,
Sebastian was rustled enough that he tuned back in. Blaine’s hand
dropped to grip the handle until his skin color bled out from holding it so
tight. A soft sigh parted his lips. He couldn’t help the saddened expression
that shoved his eyebrows together until he was aware enough to turn it
into nothing but a warm, thoughtful smile and gentle, concerned gaze.
Sebastian managed to pick up right where they left off. There’d be no
chance of escaping having to answer. Not with those eyes hinging on
his reply. Blaine licked his lips, smiled again, and peeled his fingers off
the cheap plastic they clutched to push some of Sebastian’s bangs from
his eyes. “You always had a chance. You lost it for a good while but it
didn’t stay gone, okay? You’re more important than high school mistakes
and regrets. Got it? You need to start giving you more credit. You’re
not that easy to let go either. Try to remember that in the morning, hm?
Might not have the nerve to tell you when you’re sober.”

sugar.

Somehow, Sugar had spent her first year at McKinley bully free. There’d been occasional incidents, sure; the inaugural food fight, getting caught in the crossfire of the hockey teams regular slushings, all came with being in the glee club – but she’d been sort of/maybe/hopeful friends with Santana, so. The bullies were unwilling to cross ‘Snixx,’ or so it was said. But then everyone graduated, and oh so suddenly she wasn’t a Troubletone any more. She wasn’t even Sugar to most people. She was the rich kid. She’d known from the first day, something like this was only a matter of time.

It had still surprised her, though. How fast it had happened, in flashes. Her bag slid across the floor by a hefty throw, the guy standing tall and filling her vision. Her mouth catching on itself, lips shaking, pressing herself against the wall. Sugar shook her head once, twice, no, “I’m not giving you a cent,” far braver than she’d ever feel. She braced herself when he brought his arm back, fell into a crouching position, hands to her face, protecting it.

The punch didn’t come, though, and through the harsh filter of her ears she heard Blaine’s voice, a punch and a crash, then coach Beiste’s voice. Bringing her hands down, she opened her eyes, watched the three figures. Beiste hauled the jock away, leaving Blaine there, and Sugar slowly stood, nerves still alight with sparks. But the mask went up, and she picked her bag up, facing the boy. “Could have taken him, but you saved my nails, so,” she lied, hoping he’d understand.

Once the Coach released him with a firm shake to his shoulders and a mumbled lecture of how she understood what he was doing. But he needed to refrain from that in the future–which he nodded to but didn’t meet her eyes while agreeing because there was no way he’d let someone take a hit if he could stop it–Blaine turned to face Sugar thankful for two things. First? That she was okay. Second? That his feet were on the freaking ground and the embarrassment of pretty much dangling from Coach Beiste’s hands was over.

“You definitely could have taken him and I’m surprised he wasn’t knocked out with a single punch before I came up. Who knows? I probably saved his dignity by interrupting the smack down you were about to unleash on him.” Yes, he got that lie and the understanding smile he gave her said he wasn’t about to disagree. He’d been down the road she was on before. More times than he’d like to count. But wasn’t one more than enough considering the subject?

A hand was reached out for Sugar to take and Blaine inclined his chin towards her bag with an upward twitch of his brow as the offer to carry it for her too. If her nerves needed a rest before she took on the burden of hauling her things across campus. “Now that’s in the safety of probably yet another detention for this week? How about we skip last class and go get some coffee? There’s a shop across the street. It’s not the Lima Bean but it’ll do in a pinch? Your choice. No pressure. I don’t want to end up like he almost did,” he grinned jokingly trying to lighten the mood.

music note! because your music is always fantastic!

SEND ME A ♬ AND A NUMBER BETWEEN 1-10 AND I’LL PUT MY ITUNES ON SHUFFLE AND SKIP TO THAT NUMBER AND WRITE A STARTER WITH MY FAVORITE LYRIC FROM THAT SONG.
dice roll to determine song: (2) (AWWW THANK YOU!)
song: good life by one republic @nothavepowers

Blaine wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting in the same spot in the cafe. Or how long it’d been since he actually moved. His mind was wandering off to a million different places. That and the people milling about outside were very interesting to watch as they went by. A noise and the appearance of a woman at the table he’d been hogging drew a pair of hazel eyes laced with thin veins of crimson–half lidded and twinkling away from his window watching. He blushed embarrassed that he didn’t tune into her sooner and nodded. Then got the most puzzled look on his face. Like she said something that just blew him away when it was his own inner voice that managed to. Spouted out was the very topic at hand–to himself and now her.

“Sometimes there’s airplanes I can’t jump out.
Sometimes there’s bullshit that don’t work now.
We all got our stories but please tell me.
What there is to complain about?”

Shoulders lifted in a lazy shrug and he shook his head like he couldn’t even imagine how someone could be down on such a beautiful day–a beautiful life even. Between the elbows he had cocked on the tabletop were the homemade plastic wrappers of the reason why he was being so damn philosophical to a perfect stranger. Their handmade labels boasting some “organic shop” from someplace in Greenwich Village. The foodie apparently hit hippy gold today. Oops.