Chapter Text
Blaine hadn't even read the letter before he started shouting. His day had already been rough; the producer hadn't liked his song as much as Blaine had thought, and Sebastian had been grumpy on the phone. He didn't need Kurt messing this up anymore.
"What do you mean he's gone?" he shouted, flinging his bag on the sofa.
Sebastian stood with his arms crossed, a scowl etched between his eyebrows. There was a piece of paper pressed in one hand, and Blaine made to grab for it, but he pulled it away.
"Let me read it, Sebastian!"
"Do you actually care about what it says, or will you rip it in a petty display of anger?"
Sebastian had never spoken to him like that before, and Blaine felt a familiar flare in his chest when someone denied him something. Cooper used to call him childish whenever he acted like this, but Blaine disagreed.
He earned this. "Kurt’s my partner.”
“Our,” Sebastian replied firmly, “and he was our partner. He’s gone.”
“He’ll be back.” Blaine tried to reach for the paper again. Kurt had done something like this when they had broken up in high school. He’d thought the other boy had grown out of those diva moments, but maybe Blaine had grown lax in pointing them out.
He had expected Sebastian to hand him the paper, but the other man walked away.
“Hey!” Blaine yelled. His face felt red with humiliation. Sebastian had never turned away like that before. It was usually Kurt who walked away in a fit.
With a growl, Blaine sat down on the couch. His hands gripped his pant legs tight when he heard the bedroom door slam. Why did Kurt have to ruin everything? Blaine had expected to come home to the comfort of Sebastian’s arms and Kurt’s words of affirmation – that his song was great, and his producer was wrong and, and…
And Blaine had an idea.
Kurt was weird. He was a strange combination of confident and insecure. Openly gay but layers upon layers to get anywhere with him. He was cute in an innocent way, and he needed someone to lead him.
Blaine liked being in control.
Cooper and Kurt were friends against Blaine’s adamant protests, and his brother was usually the middleman whenever they fought. It used to be Rachel, but she and Kurt had a falling out that Blaine was 99% sure was Kurt’s fault.
He just needed Cooper to tell him where Kurt was, and then he’d explain that leaving them had caused a rift and that he needed to come back and fix it. That Sebastian wasn’t talking to Blaine was Kurt’s fault.
It was always Kurt’s fault.
“Hello.” Cooper sounded tired. Blaine scowled. Did his brother have no respect for anyone else?
“Good morning,” Blaine answered.
Cooper didn’t reply, and before Blaine could say anything else, the phone's beep echoed through the room. Furiously, Blaine redialled.
“Don’t you dare fucking hang up again.”
“What do you want, Blaine?” His brother had taken the familiar tone that he usually used, one Blaine often took with Kurt. Patronising.
“Kurt’s, uh… left?”
“Has he? Where’d he go?”
“I don’t know, Cooper.”
Cooper was silent on the other end. There was a curl of vicious satisfaction at silencing his brother curling in his chest. Still, then Cooper let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Look. You’re my brother, and part of me will always love you. But I’ve seen Kurt over the past few years. It was awful, Blaine. You were awful, and Kurt was falling apart. I won’t let that happen, he’s my friend, and I can’t let you hurt him anymore.”
“Hurt him. I have never hurt him. What the fuck, Cooper? What had he been telling you?” Blaine was standing again, chest heaving, and fist clenched by his side. He resisted throwing his phone at the wall. Kurt wasn’t here to buy art to cover the dents anyway.
When Kurt came to Dalton, he’d looked so tiny in his uniform. All the other boys joked that they were dating, and Kurt was definitely interested in Blaine like that – but Blaine liked someone confident in a relationship, attention, and being pampered. Kurt couldn’t do that.
He was too… Too naïve.
But then, other boys began to look at Kurt. The other boy had been oblivious; of course, he had been. He’d only had eyes for Blaine.
Yet, Blaine was worried. What happened when Kurt began looking away? He had to keep his attention when he could.
And he did.
Cooper hadn’t bothered to explain. He’d hung up with a growl and a barked, “Figure it out yourself!”
With a sigh, Blaine knocked on the bedroom door and called out for Sebastian. There was some shuffling, and the door opened. Sebastian’s eyes were rimmed red, sniffing at random intervals. Blaine tried not to cringe. He hated it when people cried.
“Hey,” he said instead, trying to sound sympathetic, “How’re you doing?”
Sebastian eyed him warily and shrugged. “Not good.”
Biting his lip, Blaine looked Sebastian up and down suggestively. “I can think of something that’ll cheer you up.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pushed Sebastian’s chest with his hand, leading him towards the bed. The bedroom door was left open. No prude Kurt to walk in with those big, wide eyes.
But Sebastian refused to go down.
When he really wanted to, Sebastian was as unmovable as a mountain. Blaine looked up at him with wide, angry eyes and found that Sebastian’s face was emotionless.
“I want to make you feel good!”
“Really? Our boyfriend left, and you want to have sex.” Sebastian’s finger was sharp when it jabbed into his chest, and Blaine stumbled back in shock. Sebastian was always down to fuck; it was why Blaine had been so eager to invite him to the relationship.
“I don’t see how Kurt leaving should impact us. I’ve had a hard day at work –”
“ – I thought you were at a party –”
“ – and I really need some comfort.”
Crossing his arms, Sebastian regarded him with a cocked eyebrow that usually made Blaine aroused but now made him furious. “I thought you were at a party celebrating the end of your play,” the other man replied coolly.
“It was before that,” Blaine snapped. “I sent the song I was working on to my producer and he didn’t like it.” He pushed his lips into a pout and tried to force tears, desperate for Sebastian to touch him in some way.
“You were kinda pitchy.” Sebastian smirked in the particular way that meant he was laughing internally. Then his expression flattened again. “I’m not fucking you because someone criticised you. Kurt is gone, made me realise what a terrible boyfriend I had been –”
“You’re being one now.”
“Shut the hell up,” Sebastian snapped. “I was an awful boyfriend. I love Kurt and I’ve realised I’ve never told him that. I’ve never held his hand in public, signed his name in a card, cuddled him in bed. I’ve never done any of those things because I did them with you. All the time. Constantly.”
“You don’t even like Kurt!” Blaine bellowed. His fists clenched and he took a step forward.
Sebastian eyed him warily. Blaine had been in Dalton fight club for a reason, and he lashed out when he was angry. But he wasn’t deterred. “Did you not listen? I love him.”
“You love me!”
“Do !?”
Turned out that Kurt was easy to lead in a relationship. He was insecure and uncomfortable and just wanted someone to compliment him. Blaine could schedule make out sessions, distance himself in public, take the spotlight and one compliment was all it took for Kurt to forgive him.
Sebastian was a welcome change. With Kurt as his baby penguin boyfriend, there was no sexual charge. No intimacy. Kurt had implied things, but Blaine knew that Kurt wasn’t ready without even asking. Sebastian could take care of his physical needs and Kurt could take care of his emotional needs.
He just needed to make Kurt comfortable.
But he got too lenient. Made Kurt so secure that he noticed another boy’s interest. Took his number. Texted him. Cheated on Blaine.
Did Kurt assure Blaine that Chandler was just a friend? Yes. Did Blaine believe that? No.
Kurt was easy to seduce. Any boy could do it. Blaine had to keep him close, make him jealous. Flirt with Sebastian. Sleep with Sebastian.
But when Blaine asked, Sebastian said no. Then Kurt came along, and Sebastian was inviting them to Scandals and Blaine was drinking, angry and horny. Kurt wanted Blaine to himself, huh?
He could have him.
But Kurt said no, too. And Blaine was angry.
Kurt’s anger had always been cold as ice. Silent and untouchable. You had to wait for it to thaw before you spoke to him, or he would bite the hand that fed him. Blaine could melt the ice fast, chip away at it with blame and hard truths. Kurt cracked quick whenever Blaine implied that he’d break up with him. Kurt was easy like that. Easy and desperate.
Sebastian’s anger was a simmering pot of water. A watched pot never boils and all that shit. He’d get angry at things that didn’t seem to be relevant. It would boil over if you weren’t careful, and Blaine couldn’t get there fast enough. Kurt watched the pot, Blaine did not. Sebastian was a reluctant apologiser, but Blaine could force one out of him whenever Sebastian had scalded him. Scalded skin and hot, salty tears.
Blaine’s anger was an inferno of lave. It was explosive and it was dangerous. If you didn’t get out the way, you’d be hurt. Kurt seemed to think he could withstand lava, staring at Blaine with wide eyes as he screamed and threw things. Why did Kurt always have to stand close to the crater? It wasn’t Blaine’s fault when he was in the way. Pompeii couldn’t survive, so way was Kurt so fucking stupid. Move, Blaine should say, but the lave cooled when he didn’t. Harsh words and exposed flesh.
But it wasn’t Kurt this time. It was Sebastian who thought he could cover himself in lave and emerge alive. It was Sebastian who reared back in shock, hand to his cheek, eyes wide. Then his eyes narrowed, and Blaine realised that he hadn’t been watching the pot at all.
He fell back against the dresser with a smack, his cheek hot as Sebastian stalked out the room. A few moments of stunned silence followed as Blaine stood. There was a clack and Blaine finally looked around the room.
There was nothing.
Kurt’s stuff was gone, which was mildly surprising, but Blaine wasn’t as upset about him leaving as he’d thought. He’d be back. He always was. However, Sebastian’s things were gone as well.
With shaky hands, Blaine opened the dresser drawers. Nothing but his clothes.
No.
Sebastian couldn’t leave as well.
With a new fervour, Blaine tore from the bedroom and raced down the hallway. Sebastian hadn’t left yet but was slowly collecting ornaments and other belongings. There were two suitcases packed and a third open but rapidly filling.
He didn’t look up when Blaine slammed into the room.
Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, maybe it was the slow sickening sense of betrayal that was settling in his chest, but Blaine didn’t even ask him to stop.
With a scream that didn’t even sound like himself, Blain kicked the suitcase from beneath Sebastian.
Blaine hadn’t truly acknowledged what he felt when he looked at Kurt until he was auditioning for Tony. As his boyfriend sung and danced his way across the stage, hitting each note perfectly and adding flourishes that brought the character to life, Blaine broke the only promise that had considered keeping in the first place.
The devasted acceptance on Kurt’s face when he found that Blaine was Tony – even after he’d promised that he wouldn’t even try to audition – was to satisfying to ignore. Maybe that should’ve been the first indication that something was wrong.
But it truly hit him when Sebastian started ignoring him to goad on Kurt instead. The jealousy, because that was what it was, boiled over when Thad had told him Sebastian’s slushy plan.
Was it narcissistic to wish that Sebastian hated him enough to throw rock salt at him?
So, Blaine bit the bullet for Kurt, got an apology from Sebastian (that he knew Kurt did not get) and finally got Kurt in his bed.
Blaine was jealous of Kurt. Jealous enough that he’d cheated on his boy with a knockoff Sam Evans, because Sam liked Kurt and Blaine liked Sam.
But Kurt took him back.
And Sebastian came soon after.
Blaine was finally satisfied.
Sebastian let out a put off sigh, bent over to pick up his scattered objects and only jolted a bit when Blaine kicked him in the back. He turned and smacked him in the face, watching, cold, as Blaine crumpled against the couch.
“Touch me again and I’ll call the police.”
Blaine didn’t move. He glowered as Sebastian closed the last suitcase, bruise stark on his cheek. Kurt usually went for the makeup immediately, but Blaine knew that Sebastian would use it to his advantage. Knew how the scene would look to the police.
However, if he couldn’t attack him physically…
“Where are you going?”
Sebastian snorted. “Like I would tell you.”
Blain grinned with all his teeth. “I wouldn’t bother trying Kurt. He won’t take you.”
There was a pause. “I know.”
“You do. Because as much as you hate me, Kurt hates as both. I don’t even need to read the letter to know that.”
It was interesting, watching Sebastian’s eyebrow twitch and his hand hover above the pocket where the letter was probably kept. But he didn’t react any other way and Blaine felt bitter at the calm way Sebastian picked up his suitcases.
As the door swung open and the other man walked through, Blaine called out, “He’ll be back, you know! How interesting do you think the conversation will be when I inform him that he was the reason you left? Do you want to guess how long it’ll take before he’s begging for my forgiveness?”
Sebastian only looked back once, sneer curling his lip. “The only reason I won’t snap your fucking neck is because I know that you’re wrong about Kurt, Blaine. He’s never coming back.”
Then he was gone as well.
Kurt was easily susceptible in the aftermath of Blaine’s ‘mistake’. He was so desperate to keep Blaine that he accept a wedding proposal that was sprung on him – Blaine knows the Kurt falls to peer pressure like a fence to a hurricane – and was willing to give up more of spotlight that it wasn’t even lime, it wasn’t light at all, but long stretching shadow that nestled in his head and his heart.
Knew that he had Kurt in his grasp when the boy quits his job with minimal complaining. When he let Blaine squirrel him away in an inconspicuous apartment and when he brought Sebastian in. When Kurt welcomed Sebastian with wine and a homecooked meal, Blaine was satisfied.
Blaine was happy.
But then Kurt and Sebastian began to fall in love.
Both Kurt and Sebastian had left the beer and lager and vodka. Blaine drank as he waited in the silent apartment, by his silent phone. He was steadily getting drunker until the room blurred, and his breath seemed foggy.
When the phone rang, it took a couple of attempts to pick it up, but he did it.
“What?” he slurred. The other line was silent. “Kurt. Knew you’d be begging to come back.”
“Um… Blaine…”
That wasn’t Kurt, or Sebastian. It was Simon, his understudy.
“Yeah?” he mumbled as he thought. Simon was cute, a combination of Kurt and Sebastian collaged in a mediocre art class. Blaine could sleep with him until they came back. “Wanna come over?”
Simon was silent on the other end. Then, “Are you drunk?”
“Drunk on you –”
“You know, I’ll call you tomorrow, when you can think straight.”
Blaine mumbled, “Never,” before he hears the dial tone. “Shit.” He threw the phone down beside him and took another swig of vodka. “Shit.” He shut is eyes.
Kurt left because he was a coward. But he took Sebastian with him.
And, ever so slowly, Blaine added a tally to the secret score he’d been keeping.
But he wouldn’t let Kurt win.
The next day, with a pounding head, Blaine called Kurt, he called Sebastian, Cooper, Simon. None of the picked up. He glanced at the clock and bolted from the sofa.
“Fuck!”
Scurrying, he pulled on pants and a fresh shirt before spraying deodorant and body spray to get rid of the alcoholic scent. He slammed out the door, not even locking it and flew down the stairs, almost knocking over the old lady next door.
The streets were busy, and Blaine felt something sour curdle in his stomach at the fact that none of these people were aware of what took place last night. That they wouldn’t care either way.
It was moments like these, as people bumped into him without as much as an apology, without knowing that he’d been on Broadway, that he missed Lima, Ohio. He missed being someone that people could recognise and know that this man was going to be a star one day.
He made it to the studio two hours late.
His producer, Mr Randall was talking with someone. As Blaine shoved into the room, dumping his bags on an empty seat, he realised that it was Simon.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he barked.
The two other men barely spared him a glance as they continued their conversation. Moving closer, Blaine realised that it was a contract of some sort. He leant over Simon’s shoulder, who blatantly moved away but caught the main subject.
He slammed his hand down. “You’re signing him instead?”
Mr Randall didn’t hesitate before agreeing. “If you had been here when asked, which was two hours ago, you would know that I was planning on signing you both.”
“But I’m way better than him!”
“No, you’re not,” was the blunt reply. The man pushed off the table, patted Simon on the back and rounded on Blaine. “I don’t know how many more times I need to tell you this, but you are not as good as you think you are. On Broadway, your voice isn’t unique, and it doesn’t have to be, but in this industry, with so many people vying, you need to bring something different to the table.”
“I got the role of Charlie because they thought I was a good embodiment, and so I didn’t get pigeon-holed into the role of gay drag queen like Vincent Rodriguez.”
“I thought he was good as Lola,” Simon piped up.
“You also got the role as Charlie because you didn’t have the skills to play Lola. You’re a shit dancer, you’re flat in places and you don’t have the legs to play a drag queen.”
Blaine saw red. “How dare you!” He swiped his hand across the table, scattering the contents across the table.
Mr Randall raised a condescending eyebrow. “I told you, you shouldn’t’ve gone to that party last night. Today was important and if you can’t manage expectations and arrangements because you’re hung-over then don’t expect to have a contract.”
“My partner left me,” Blaine snapped.
“Oh,” Simon said, “Is that why you were drunk when I called you?”
“Yes,” Blaine hissed. But Mr Randall looked unimpressed. “It was a five-year relationship.”
“Blaine,” Mr Randall said firmly, “I don’t actually care that much. You being in a relationship or ending a relationship or whatever has no impact on me. I’ve been told multiple times by other producers and directors that you’re a difficult man to work with, that you’re full of yourself and a diva. I thought they were exaggerating.” He stared at Blaine; eyes hard. “They were not.”
Blaine felt something heavy tighten his chest, press against his lungs. To get his breathing under control, he did what he always did – he lashed out. “No, I’m not full of myself, I just know my self-worth. What’s actually happening here is homophobia, you’re firing me because I’m gay.”
Mr Randall sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Blaine, I don’t give a shit if your gay. It’s just not an excuse for your behaviour. Your songs are badly written and repetitive. Your voice falls flat. You look constipated whenever you dance. You just aren’t cut out for mainstream music, go back to Broadway.”
“But that’s not fair.” His voice sounded whiny to his own ears. “I beat him, I got the roles and the recognition. Is it because you haven’t seen him first? I can show you him and you can see how good I am in comparison!”
“Anderson, I have no idea who you’re talking about, nor do I care. If that’s the reasoning you use for all your successes then you probably don’t deserve them. I would like you to leave now, sort out that hang-over, get something to eat and sort out your priorities.” Mr Randall then turned and asked, “Do you have any questions about the contract, Simon?”
Blaine was left with a hollow echo in his lungs. He wanted to scream, he wanted to throw things. Instead, he left. He walked through the door and didn’t look back, so he couldn’t see the future he’s envisioned crumbling to dust.
Tick, tick, tick.
The tally marks went up.