Hey, my love
I buried you a month or two ago

Blaine was perched on the edge of a cold, sterile bed. He knew the bed; it wad his own, after all. Just like he knew the room he was in; it was his bedroom.

But everything he knew seemed foreign to him suddenly. His life seemed devoid of any life or joy or happiness or sense of warmth without him around.

I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor
That you're waiting there for me

In his hands he held a photo frame which was equally cold and sterile as his bed. Encased in the frame was an image of the epitome of life or joy or happiness or sense of warmth; him.

Blaine didn't dare to mention his name aloud anymore. Anytime he did he'd be chastised by his family and friends; don't think of him, don't speak of him, they'd say. Best to just move on and forget. As if everything was completely fine and moving on and forgetting was simply the most easy thing to do, next to breathing.

Hey, my love
You've walked out a hundred times,

The flashbacks and dreams were his last spout of sanity; the one thing keeping him going. Because Blaine's only place in the world that wasn't cold or sterile was in the place where he still existed; Blaine's own imagination.

Even the times when he slipped his eyes shut only to watch his back as he walked away. Blaine's flashbacks were so vivid he could practically feel the emotion. And even the pain forming in his chest at the sight of him walking away, no doubt after one of their many fights, was the most joyously fabulous feeling Blaine knew because cold or sterile just didn't do it for him anymore.

how was I
Supposed to know this time that you wouldn't call
That you wouldn't come home

He didn't come back one day. They'd fought and fought over god know's what; probably something completely irrelevant compared to the bigger scheme of things. But as the hours ticked on and Blaine's anxiety began to take over, he realised that he wouldn't be coming back. 

That was the last day Blaine saw him, and the most vividly painful flashback Blaine experienced.

But four drinks I'm wasted
I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you

The drinking had gotten bad again, Blaine knew it. And if he didn't know it; he had his loving, caring family to remind him every second of every moment spent with him, because Blaine meant nothing more than his own issues to them.

He was never like them. He never judged Blaine for his flaws. His drinking addiction had never been a problem to him. He was the main reason Blaine had managed to quit.

At the foot of my bed
If I drink enough

Being sober felt amazing. When he was with him. But now that he was no longer with Blaine; being sober just added to his long list of weights sitting on his shoulders.

Drinking did nothing, not like it used to. Blaine could do nothing to drown out the flashbacks and the memories. Everything reminded him of him. The left side pillow on his bed, the right side pillow, his cupboard, the stairs, that crack in the roof. There was nothing left that Blaine didn't associate with him. Yet, everything still seemed so cold and sterile, despite the memories attached.

I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you
But it's all in my head
If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

Blaine collapsed backwards, feeling the air rushing past him as he hit his covers, his legs dangling off the end. He shut his eyes and rolled to his side, clutching the photo frame firmly in his hand.

After lying still for a while, Blaine began to feel sleep attempt to take over his body, tickling his eyes and drying out his lips, leaving his body slack and willing. But then Blaine slipped his eyes open and any ounce of sleep left his body.

When you left, you took my bestest friends away
And in this mess, I think I dug a thousand graves

Blaine groaned audibly, grumbling to himself before stumbling out of his bed and limping towards his desk, fumbling around for a few minutes before finding a full bottle amongst the empty and cracked. He opened it, lifted it to his lips and threw his head back, feeling the drink drip it's way down his throat.

At this point, Blaine's mouth had become so numb that the bitterness had no effect on him as he lowered his head, feeling a drip rolling down his chin and onto the carpet.

Talia, I hope you're happy anyway

But four drinks I'm wasted

He yelled out suddenly and threw his hand downward, letting go of the bottle last second and watching in awe as it hit the floor, creating a puddle around his feet as pieces of glass flew around. He winced in pain as a few pieces hit his legs and feet, sighing when the door slammed open.

He was scooped into the arms of his crying mother, calling out for her husband who was upstairs in no more that ten seconds and who lost it at the sight of blood.

I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you
At the foot of my bed

Blaine raised his heavy head to stair at the foot of his bed, ignoring his mother applying bandages to his legs and feet and paying no attention to his father mopping frantically at the stained carpet.

He could've sworn he could see him sitting there at the bottom of his bed, staring sadly, shaking his head disappointedly at Blaine. He would be so upset, he wouldn't want Blaine to do this to himself.

If I drink enough
I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you
But it's all in my head
If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

"Why do you do this, Blaine?"

Blaine heard his mother's voice but he couldn't comprehend what she had said. He blinked and he was gone. The foot of his bed was empty, no one was sat there and Blaine sighed to himself. He was going mad. Hallucinations was surely a symptom of insanity.

Broke my heart now I'm wasting my time on you
Broke my heart now I'm wasting my time

"B?" Blaine turned his head to his mother, staring her dead in the eyes and watching emotionlessly as she collapsed in on herself soaking his covers in tears.

Blaine's father approached and scooped her up into a hug, holding her tightly around the waist as her shoulders shook violently.

Eye contact with his father used to make him feel terrified but now he stared deep into his father's stone cold eyes, barely registering the movement of his father's lips.

"Look what you did." His father mouthed, and Blaine sighed, nodding and turning to look down at his feet, noting the red toe. His socks were white, so the red seemed entirely out of place and Blaine couldn't come up with a coherent reason as to why his toe was red.

If I drink enough
I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you
At the foot of my bed

"You're a mess, Blaine." David declared, watching Blaine who was sat motionless on his bed.

Blaine turned to Wes who spoke, "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"He's surely not worth you throwing your life away. Kurt was-"

Blaine launched himself forward, bringing his hands up to cup Thad around the neck, squeezing as he grit his teeth together, watching Thad's face swell up and turn a pretty shade of purple, his eyes bulging wide.

Wes and David were at his side, each grabbing and pulling at his arms but had no effect. Blaine's eyebrows furrowed and Thad's face was suddenly his. Blaine growled, squeezing tighter. He's the reason Blaine is like this. He's the one who chose to leave. It's all his fault. It's-

Suddenly he was shoved back and a fist collided with his chin, his eyes slipping shut.

If I drink enough
I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you
But it's all in my head
But four drinks I'm wasted

When he blinked his eyes open blearily, Blaine tastes blood in his throat and he glanced around, finding his room empty.

He stumbled to his feet and wobbled over to his mirror, wincing at the angry purple bruise on his chin. He wasn't sure who had hit him.

I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you
At the foot of my bed

He sighed, turning to his desk and finding only half a bottle left. He picked it up and lifted it to his lips, only to bring it back down and stare thoughtfully at it.

He fumbled around in his bed side table's drawer and pulled out a box of paracetamol. He tilted his head from side to side, as if deciding what to have for lunch and then he began to pop each one out, watching as they fell into a pile on his bed.

If I drink enough
I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you

He scooped them into his hand and popped a few into his mouth, alternating between popping some in and washing them down with alcohol. Once there was none left he finished the whole bottle with one gulp and dropped it, rolling his eyes when it smashed again.

He climbed onto his bed and slipped under the covers, shutting his eyes and allowing a peaceful smile to grace his lips. He was finally going to see him again. He was finally going to see Kurt.

But it's all in my head
If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you

————————————————

yOoooooo if you haven't listened to 'Talia' by King Princess you should.

I've never written suicide so I APOLOGISE

I forgot how to spell which. I was like 'witch' 'whitch' 'wich'

Also guess what. I rescued a caterpillar. I was taking photos of the autumn leaves and I found a lil green bud all curled up and he was frOzEN so I took him inside and made him a lil home but he was deaD.

So I was like. prodding him with this pen to see if he was alive and then all of a sudden he just JUMPED and straightened himself out and I just sat there staring at him for like 2 minutes and then he just started moving and like? I think I gave a caterpillar CPR?

And now he's all happy and we're tight af and I named him King bcos the song I listened to whilst giving him CPR was Talia by King Princess so.

check it:

Also btw I'm not reading this again and checking it so I apologise for any mistakes