afterawhile - Tumblr blog

[afterawhile]

being happy is attractive

being proactive is attractive

eating is attractive

being positive is attractive

being kind is attractive

being completely and utterly yourself is attractive

more than you'll probably ever realise

trust me

[afterawhile]

basically i dont care if you drink smoke or do drugs as long as you can hold a conversation about something besides the fact that you drink smoke or do drugs

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home is where you fully understand how the shower works

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Bubble Gum Girl by Hajin Bae

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Stop hating yourself. Try going one day without saying anything bad about yourself. Try complimenting yourself. Do it again. Buy yourself dinner. Put soft things against your skin. Listen to your favorite songs. Eat ice cream. Eat ice cream naked. You have to spend the rest of your life with you. You’re all you’ve got. Be kind, start loving yourself.

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I don't understand why people get so upset when people add shitty comments on their posts. Like no, please, add the shittiest comments ever. Tell me a story about your cat, write the word SHIT in capital letters, promote your freaking blog I don't even care. I will still get really excited because you reblogged my post and took the time to add a comment that's not annoying that's AWESOME

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Can we talk about this moment very quickly? Because when I watched that episode I didn't feel the normal 'oh my god klaine kissed yay' kind of feeling. It just seemed like a really awkward kiss and I've only just realised why. 

Blaine goes to kiss Kurt on the freaking cheek. He leans his head to one side tentatively and starts to press his lips together for the sort of kiss you do when you say goodbye to your grandma. And Kurt, obviously, goes to kiss Blaine on the lips. They meet halfway and it becomes sort of an awkward kiss at the corner of Blaine's mouth, with Blaine being caught by surprise and being pushed back a bit and Kurt being caught by surprise because Blaine isn't kissing back properly.

Blaine felt so guilty he didn't think he should be allowed to kiss Kurt.

My heart is broken. 

(x) (x) (sorry I'm so bad at making gifs i know this is an asshole thing to do)

[afterawhile]

your writing is beautiful :)

Thank you so so much. You have no idea how much it means to me that you enjoy it.

[afterawhile]

"Nobody really cared."

Just a short-ish ramble-y thing for SpookyClaire. I hope I didn't disappoint too much and this is sort of what you had in mind! :) Also Kurt suddenly decided he had a lot to say. A lot to say. So sorry about that. 

“Blaine?” Kurt closed the front door with a loud click and placed his messenger bag slowly on a large wooden dresser situated to the right of the sliding pane, straining his ears for any sign of movement within the apartment. “Are you home?” There was a long pause before the muffled reply of his boyfriend staggered into his ears. 

“Bedroom.” Kurt frowned slightly, covering the distance to the open door in a few steps. He stopped abruptly at the door frame, greeted with the almost comical sight of his boyfriend bent forward, towel drying his hair with so much determination small droplets of water were landing only centimetres away from Kurt‘s feet. 

“Are you… OK?” Kurt finally managed to say as the initial surprise at the situation wore off. 

“Yeah, just had a shower.” Blaine stopped drying his hair and straightened his back, gesturing lamely with the towel in the direction of the bathroom. He tried to smile but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that Kurt had learned meant it wasn’t genuine. Blaine was faking it, and in front of Kurt, which set off alarm bells ringing through his mind. Kurt checked his watch, raising an eyebrow cynically. 

“At 12.30?” 

“Well, you know…” 

“I don‘t.” Kurt sighed and crossed the room to sit next to the smaller boy, automatically moving the discarded towel from between them and reaching over to cover Blaine’s hand with his own. Blaine stared down at them, not reacting before slowly lifting his head and meeting Kurt’s eyes. 

“How did you know?” He paused, collecting his thoughts, before starting again. “That I was here, I mean. How did you know I came home early?” 

“Rachel text me.” Kurt replied simply, trying desperately to search the other boys eyes for anything that might give his current feelings away. He found nothing. Blaine was always frustratingly hard to read, burying his feelings deep beneath the surface in a way  Kurt could only comprehend was a defence mechanism. Instead of gaining any clues, Blaine turned away from his gaze. 

“Oh. She… right.” 

“Blaine what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just- you know.” He waved his free arm mindlessly in the direction of the bathroom again.

“You felt the overwhelming urge to take a shower in the middle of your music history lecture?” Kurt retorted. Blaine didn’t answer, humming in reply. Kurt tried again. “Something‘s up, Blaine.” Kurt started softly. “You made Rachel notice someone other then herself, that’s quite an achievement.” Blaine chucked weakly before softly detangling his fingers from Kurt’s hold and running them through his freshly washed hair. 

“I…” He sighed again, struggling with the words.

“Blaine?” Kurt was getting increasingly frustrated. Blaine looked up into Kurt’s eyes again, studying them for a second. 

“It’s so stupid. I’m going to sound like an idiot.” 

“I doubt you will.” 

“I already do.”

“Blaine, c’mon.” Kurt reached over and squeezed the other boy’s hands again. This time in an attempt to move the conversation from the endless rut they had dug themselves into.  Blaine breathed out swiftly.

“OK, I… You remember at McKinley? When- Right before I-” He winced, struggling to get the words out. “Cheated on you.” He finished rapidly, the words mixing into one another. Kurt pressed his lips together and frowned, unsure of where this was going. 

“Go on.”  

“I just- it wasn’t a great time. I- I know we’ve talked about this, it’s just- I’ve never felt so lonely in my life. My parents were away on countless business trips and you were in New York and- I left Dalton for you and you were suddenly gone and I didn’t really have anyone to talk to and it just felt like no-one cared, you know? I-” He paused again, but Kurt didn’t say anything. Waiting for the other boy to collect himself again. “Those few months- The months after, when I’d lost your speech as well as your touch, no-one in that school made an effort to even see if I was OK. Not really. Sam did, a bit, and Tina was nice but it was like- like they could see I was unhappy but they were too busy to bother. Too busy or not concerned enough to try and help me. And it just- it really made me feel like I was at my old school again. For the first time it was as bad- made me feel like I didn’t matter, like-” 

“-like you deserved it.” Kurt finished, smiling melancholically. Blaine dipped his head and bit his lip at the response. A few beads of water from his still wet curls dripped onto the carpet, discolouring the fabric where they hit.

“I’m sorry, I’m being ridiculous-”

“No, Blaine, I get it. I felt like that too, remember? Until I met you I felt exactly the same.” Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but Kurt interjected, aware that for whatever reason had triggered these thoughts in Blaine, what he needed to hear now was a certain type of reassurance. “Do you remember those first few days after we first met at Dalton?” 

“When we texted and I sent you the word courage a lot?” 

“Yeah, and then Karofsky threatened to kill me-

“Because I-” Blaine began but Kurt interrupted him, sensing the dangerous corner into which Blaine was dragging the conversation.

“No, Blaine- you didn’t- let me finish, okay. You came and you stood up for me, and that was the first time anyone had done that. Before that Mr Shue- he tried. He- well he didn’t really, but he asked if I was okay, but no-one else… No-one else even bothered before that. I was pushed around in front of everyone, called names in front of my friends, and none of them did anything, said anything. I mean- I’m not blaming them- I don’t- but it made me feel really, really shit. Like you said, it just- it makes you feel as though what you’re going through is irrelevant, like you’re irrelevant. And that hurts so, so much. Almost more than the situation that caused it.” 

“Kurt, I-” 

“I’m not sure if it’s a McKinley thing, or just a general high school thing.” Kurt continued. “But it seems as though everyone desensitizes themselves from everything that’s going on around them. I thought maybe it was because we’re all teenagers, and too consumed with ourselves and our own problems that you forget there are other people around you who have feelings and problems too. But the teachers? How do you explain them?”

“They simply don’t want to know.” There was a hint of bitterness to Blaine’s voice. An undercurrent of hostility. 

“Exactly.” Kurt picked up again. “They don’t want to know. Or maybe they want to pretend they don‘t- that everything‘s fine. I guess when you become an adult all of your teenage angst, all of your feelings and problems, they don’t go away, they change. They morph into different feelings and problems. These teachers- they don’t want to know because they’re protecting themselves from all these negative things. All the problems these kids have- when you become invested in something like that it takes effort to seek out the small speck of sunlight at the end of the tunnel. It drains you and it makes you see the world in a different way. And on top of your own problems you have to add someone else’s- and that can be difficult. Because it’s so much easier to go through life without ever having to take off your rose tinted spectacles. It’s what we all strive for, but it’s impossible. Absolutely impossible. 

“And then that means it’s probably not a teenage thing- it‘s an everyone thing. A human thing. I mean, sure, at Dalton you had more of a support system than at McKinley. The teachers would listen if you said you were being bullied. But does that mean they cared more or that they were just more informed? They were given specific instructions about what to do when it comes to pastoral care and they have the reputation of the school to uphold. But they did everything with a formality that still made you feel a bit distant and sometimes that’s worse than everyone ignoring you, because it makes you feel like a burden. And by default that almost makes you feel like no-one cares all over again. 

"We both ended up feeling like we deserved it because our minds took all of this stuff and mixed it in with the bad things that were going on in our lives and turned it into this potion of self hate and loneliness and god knows what else. We thought there wasn’t a soul in the world who cared about us, when, in fact, although the natural human instinct is to put on those glasses and keep yourself safe, there’s another deep, deep instinct that tells us to protect other people. It’s hard at that age to make sense of it all, and your brain’s all jumbled, and so are the people’s around you. But if you really seek the help, if you ask people, which neither of us did for a long time. You see that they are willing to help, they just need more help themselves. I mean- I don‘t - I’m not defending how McKinley deals with these things, of course, that’s still a problem. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that despite what you think there are people out there. They need you to direct them slightly. Talk to them about your problems, tell them what you want them to do. Then when you get over that first big hurdle of asking for help, they can take over and everything becomes a little bit easier. I don’t think that‘s something you learn until your older, you know? Until you‘ve lived a bit.” Kurt finished with a breath. Frowning slightly, going over what he had said in his mind. “Did any of that actually make any sense?” He laughed. 

Blaine stared at the other boy for full minute, watching how the sunlight hit the top of Kurt’s head ever so slightly, illuminating his quiff as he wet his lips in an effort to regain some of the moisture the monologue had taken out of them, a dumbfounded gaze frozen on his face, before finally gasping out. 

“I love you so much, do you know that? So freaking much, Kurt Hummel.” Kurt laughed softly and squeezed Blaine’s hands reassuringly. Leaning in for a kiss, dragging his lips softly against Blaine’s. 

“Can I ask what brought this on?” He murmured into Blaine’s skin after a while, pulling back slightly so he could meet Blaine’s eyes. Blaine rubbed his lips together before shrugging half heartedly. 

“The professor in music history was talking about this composer who had basically barricaded himself in his house his whole life because his family and friends abandoned him and- god -I don’t know- I was in a weird headspace all morning and it just got too much. The room felt too hot and there was too many people around me. I was never going to be able to concentrate so I thought I’d come home and take a shower to clear my head.”  He finished with another shrug and leaned in for a third kiss, reaching up to grasp the back of Kurt’s hair. The corners of Kurt’s lips tugged upwards in the beginnings of a smile. 

“Well I’m glad you did.” Kurt said. Blaine chuckled quietly, shifting slightly on the bed. Twisting his body and closing the gap in between it and Kurt’s.

“Yeah. Yeah so am I.”

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Share 5 facts about yourself then ask 10 of your favourite followers to do the same :)

You are very sweet, thank you. 

5 facts woah ok, erm.

1. I really really really love blangst

2. I wish I was better at writing

3. I've never kissed a boy which is disheartening 

4. I am 18 years old

5. If I had one wish I would genuinely wish I was Blaine Anderson, but with less of the angst (this is probably the reason why I've never kissed a boy)

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Crappy blangst edits yo

[afterawhile]

On Butterflies and Dark, Stormy Nights

“A human doesn't have a heart like mine. The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and I have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both. Still, they have one thing I envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.” 

― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

  He searches the internet, trawling Google in the incognito tab. He types in various words; ‘sad’, and ‘suicide’, but stays well away from ‘depression’. He doesn’t have depression.

Twenty minutes pass and no one answers, Blaine deletes the question.

He flicks back and forth between tabs, not really doing anything, mindlessly clicking on random things. He ends up taking a depression test, then another. The second places him on a number line. ‘22 out of 27’, it says. Blaine stares at it for a while, scrolls down a bit but they don’t tell him what that means, only that he should see a doctor. He clicks the x in the corner of the page and shuts the lid of his computer, goes and curls up on his bed. 

He doesn’t have depression. 

  ***

  The weekend passes uneventfully. He manages to complete some homework, but only enough to stop his teachers complaining. He cares about school, he does, but the amount of work is overwhelming, and frankly he doesn’t even have the energy to concentrate for more than half an hour at a time. 

He stays in his bedroom for most of it, spending yet another Sunday mindlessly playing video games, sleeping. Tina texts him at one point but he doesn’t reply, doesn’t even bother to open the message.

  On Monday morning he wakes up at 4am and cries. 

He buries his face into the pillow, balling the sheets to his chest, hugging them tightly. He tries to sob as noiselessly as he can, mindful of his parents sleeping only a thin wall away, but isn’t entirely successful. His breath comes out in harsh squeaks as he becomes more and more hysterical. The air to his lungs doesn’t enter properly and he chokes a bit, the snot mixing with his tears as he scrunches his eyes up as tight as they’ll go.

Fifteen minutes later and he calms down enough to roll over onto his back, wiping his face with the corner of his pyjama sleeve as he tries to even his breathing. His parents are still asleep in the adjacent room. Blaine sits up slowly and pads across the carpeted hall to the bathroom. He can’t help but feel slightly disappointed that they didn’t wake up. He immediately feels an overwhelming sense of guilt for even considering the scenario.

He’s being selfish again. He’s always selfish, thinking about himself.

This is why nobody likes you Blaine.

This is why you’re going to spend the rest of your life unhappy.

This is why you deserve to spend the rest of your life unhappy. 

The noise of the water hitting the porcelain base of the sink brings him to his senses. He takes another deep breath and calms himself down. Splashing water over his face he tries to feel the cool glide of the liquid over his features, washing away any remnants of the past half an hour. 

It isn’t as pleasant as he thought it might be. 

  ***

  “Blaine?” Mr Shue is calling his name. He jerks his head up from where he’d been mindlessly staring at his phone. He can’t remember why he even got it out of his pocket 

“Erm sorry, what?” Mr Shue frowns.

“I said,” he apparently repeats in a voice much firmer than before. “Have you got your reply slip for the vocal workshop trip next Saturday?”

“Oh, no. No sorry I can’t go. Sorry.” It’s a lie. Another one. He seems to be making a habit of lying recently. A few people turn to face him and he gives them apologetic smiles, but inside he’s wilting under their gaze. He can feel their hatred sizzling through the air, can feel it enter his body and melt a tiny bit more of the little optimism left inside of him. If it was another day, a good day, he supposed you could call it, he would realise their eyes were laced with concern more than aversion. He loves performing after all, he’s always the first to be in the spotlight. His behaviour probably does seem odd.

But it isn’t a good day. It hasn’t been a good day in a very long time. 

“Blaine,” Mr Shue starts with a sigh this time, shifts a bit in the spot he’s standing in, as if he’s still annoyed, but thinking now as well. “I’m not very keen on your lack of enthusiasm of late. Is everything okay?” Blaine pauses at that question, his brain already switching on all defences. Walls and barricades fly up, locks clink into place. He forces himself to smile. Big and wide. As wide as possible without it looking too fake. 

“I’m great Mr Shue, just a bit tired today. Sorry about the trip, my aunt’s coming down from Canada for the weekend I kind of need to be at home.” He finishes with another smile and a random hand gesture that he’s sure was meant to mean something in a distant part of his mind. The words came out a bit too rushed, his sentences too perfect yet too sloppy all at the same time. He can tell no-one’s really convinced. The bell rings and everyone shuffles, slowly packing away their things even though they haven’t been dismissed yet. Mr Shue stares at Blaine a moment longer before nodding once. 

“Okay.” He says quietly, pensively. And then- “Right,” which is louder, and coupled with a hand clap. It seems to be everyone’s cue to get up and leave. “See you tomorrow folks. Jake remember your reply slip. Blaine…” Blaine pauses two steps away from his chair, suddenly frozen. “Stay behind a minute please.” Blaine opens his mouth to protest but shuts it quickly. He glances over at Tina and gives her a quick smile which she returns half heartedly, before straightening his back and raising his head slightly, turning to face Mr Shue. 

“Yes?” He asks, his voice a mix of politeness laced with defiance. An undercurrent of ’Whatever you’re about to say I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want you caring about me. I’m fine.’  Mr Shue shuffles some papers on the piano mindlessly before turning to face Blaine once again. 

“What’s going on, Blaine?” It’s said with the sort of concern Blaine knows well.  The type where you can already hear the judgement. The sort that doesn’t welcome with open arms. Blaine grips the handle of his bag fractionally tighter. 

“Nothing.” He says, and to be honest for the most part he thinks it’s true. There isn’t actually anything wrong. Yes he’s unhappy but… 

That’s it. It’s pathetic and Blaine hates himself for it but he can’t explain it any better than that. He’s sad and he doesn‘t have any right to be.

“I’m fine Mr Shue. Thanks for asking though.” He turns away and he can hear the teacher sigh. 

“Blaine, wait.” He stops once more, a mere half a metre from the exit. 

“Yeah?” He replies, letting the slightest hint of irritation seep into his words. Keeping his eyes trained on the door so Mr Shue doesn’t see the tears beginning to from in them.

“Just remember you can talk to me, OK? Any time you want, I’m here.” Blaine nods once before swiftly leaving the room. He walks quickly to the boys toilets, practically running into a stall and slamming the door loudly behind him. It’s only when the lock clicks into place that he allows himself to lean heavily against a wall, breath finally releasing. He feels tears slowly trickle down his cheeks. He tries to wipe them away but eventually gives up. Lets them drip noiselessly onto the tilled flooring. 

I’m fine.

He wonders what would have happened if he had answered the question differently.

  ***

  It isn’t until a week later that Blaine finds himself awake at two in the morning researching methods of suicide on the internet. 

He uses the incognito tab again. The first few entries redirect him to self help sites which he quickly backspaces on. After about ten minutes of browsing forums and random websites he finally stumbles upon a PDF that’s over a hundred pages long.

It begins by stating that it doesn’t endorse suicide for the sake of suicide, that this document is strictly for people living in countries where euthanasia is illegal. Blaine skims over the introduction, scrolling down to the seemingly endless list of method after method after method. Everything is explained in immense detail. The pros, the cons, what not to do, alternative methods, possible outcomes. It’s split into sections, there are pictures of drug prescription bottles in the ’poisoning’ section. It’s no nonsense. Not trying to convince anyone, but not trying to deter them either. 

It’s exactly what he’s looking for. 

  He doesn’t finish reading it in one night. He spends the whole of the next day thinking, mulling over what he read in his head. In calculus he thinks about cyanide instead of differentiation. In Glee his father’s hunting guns instead of regionals. Mr Shue gives him a few worried glances but he hardly notices, doesn’t even care anymore. He’s found something that occupies his mind and doesn’t make him feel like he’s loosing touch with reality. It’s ironic in the worst possible way but it works. And honestly, that’s enough at the minute for Blaine not to question it.

  It’s not until two days later that he gets a chance to finish  it. Mainly because it’s the first day he doesn’t fall asleep the second he gets home.  He pulls up the PDF and tries to find the spot where he left off, recapping slightly. After two days of only his own mind he forgets how frank it reads. Things seem worse at seven o clock than they do in the early hours of the morning. The extensive explanations shock Blaine more than he thought they would. At one point he feels nausea begin to settle at the bottom of his stomach. At another tears make their appearance again and he has to stop before he breaks down completely. 

He tells himself it doesn’t matter what he reads, he’s not going to ever do anything.

He can’t help but feel like a coward because of it.

  ***

  A month passes.

Then another. 

Nothing really changes.

Blaine doesn’t look anything else up on the internet anymore.

Everything seems to be a blur; hazy yet with moments that are so painfully defined he forgets them almost instantly afterwards. 

People sometimes express their worries.

He does a good enough job of lying that they just as quickly accept his reassurances.

Somewhere around February his brother finally calls.

It’s been six months.

He presses reject.

  ***

  Nationals is held in New York again. When Mr Shue announces it everyone claps and cheers but Blaine tenses up. He feels Tina’s gaze on him and turns to her. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” she says, even though she doesn’t. “And you don’t need to worry. I’m sure Kurt will love to see you.” She smiles, reaches over to pat his arm. He stares at her for a minute before picking up his bag and wiggling out of her touch. 

“Sorry.” He says insincerely as everyone turns to him in confusion. “I just remembered I have to do something.” He catches a glimpse of Tina’s shocked face but no emotion permeates the casing he didn’t even realise had assembled around his heart.

“Blaine?” Mr Shue calls. “Where are you going? Blaine!?” 

He doesn’t say anything in reply, just walks out. 

He’s tired of pretending. He’s tired of everything. 

  A day later and he’s being pulled out of AP US History by a bespectacled lady he’s sure he’s talked to before but that he can’t remember the name of. He asks her why she’s taken him out, and she says she doesn’t know, just that she got a memo from Mrs Pillsbury to fetch him about twenty minutes ago. He almost turns on his heel and walks out the school. He can feel irrational anger start to gather in his blood, can feel it clog more and more of his arteries the closer they get to the glass paned office. Mr Shue had no right, is the only thought scrolling through his brain. It’s flashing and spinning and making it hard to think of anything else. He forces himself to breathe. Tries to calm himself down. By the time the woman has bid her goodbyes and leaves him to knock at the closed door he’s almost succeeded. Nothing but the slight tremor in his hands could give the turmoil crashing around inside of him away. 

When the door opens and he’s greeted with not only Mrs Pillsbury ,but Mr Shue as well, some of it momentarily returns. He wrestles it down, forcing a smile on his face as he calmly sits in the chair opposite them both.

“Hi, was there something you needed?” His voice is cool and composed. The Blaine everyone is used to hearing. The two adults, however, don’t look convinced and it causes Blaine to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He places his bag at his feet and fiddles with the sleeve of his jumper nervously, pressing at the vein in his wrist. He notices Mr Shue staring at his hands and he stops almost instantly, folding them neatly in his lap. 

“Blaine, I think you know why you’re here.” Mr Shue lifts his head up to stare into his eyes and it’s all Blaine can do to not look away. He lets in a sharp intake of breath, blinks slowly a few times. He doesn’t know what to do. Feign ignorance? Apologise and make something up? Which would be less suspicious?  Which would take the least amount of energy? 

In hindsight he chooses the more witless option of the two. 

“Sorry, no?” Mr Shue sighs and leans back in his chair and that’s when he knows he’s made the wrong decision. 

“Blaine we’re talking about Glee club.” Mrs Pillsbury picks up. All Blaine can focus on is the conversation‘s they’ve had about him of which he‘ll never know what was said. “How you suddenly walked out yesterday and ignored everyone?” Blaine doesn’t say anything, waits for her to continue speaking. “Can you tell us why you did that sweetheart?” He winces at the pet name and crosses his arms. Then uncrosses them because he realises that probably looks defensive. “Blaine?” She prompts when he doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t… really know.” He frowns as the pair look at each other in confusion. He looks at the ceiling for a second, counts to ten and evens his breathing once more. He still has time to rectify the situation. This is salvageable.  “I’m just really tired, you know.” He does the weird gesture again, one that seems to have become a habit. “Exam stress.” He smiles tightly once more, knows there’re not buying it. Mr Shue actually shakes his head. 

“Blaine you haven’t been acting like yourself for months, don’t think we haven’t noticed.”  He can feel his palms getting sweaty as their gaze‘s bore into him. Why can’t they just leave him alone. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t even know what he would talk about. He doesn’t need anyone’s help. He tries to rectify the situation as quickly as possible. 

“Look I’m really sorry about yesterday. I’m a bit behind on school work and it’s starting to take it’s toll I guess.” At least that isn’t a lie, he thinks. I am behind on school work, I just don’t care any more. 

“Is there a reason you’re so behind?” Mrs Pillsbury pipes up again. Blaine inwardly curses. Always with the questions. Question after question that he doesn’t want to answer. 

“I got complacent and now I have to catch up. Too many parties.” It’s simple. It’s normal. It works. They don’t look entirely convinced but they let him go, once again reminding him they’re always there, ready for when he wants to talk. 

Not a fucking chance, he whispers as he strides swiftly down the hallway in the direction of the parking lot. He isn’t going back to US History today. 

  ***

  At quarter to nine Blaine’s hotel room door swings open with a loud bang. He lifts his head up drowsily. “Tina wha-?” 

“Get up! Get up! We have to be at the theatre in an hour and it’s fifteen minutes away.” Her voice gets quieter despite it’s rising shrillness as she moves down the hall. Blaine just stares at the empty doorway, trying to get his eyes to cooperate with the rest of his body. “COME ON! BOTH OF YOU!” She shrieks, reappearing at the door as quickly as she had disappeared. Blaine glances over at Sam, who just rolls over and groans, burying his face into a pillow.

  The day passes with much less drama. Blaine has seen New York a number of times now and it doesn’t hold the same ‘wow factor’ as it did the first time he ever set foot onto the worn down sidewalk. They get to the theatre way before schedule, despite Tina’s panic, the large ’SHOW CHOIR NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIPS’ sign written above the door welcomes them with open arms. By the time 6pm rolls around and it’s time for their performance everyone is dressed and prepped into oblivion. 

Blaine purposely insisted he didn’t take lead in any of the songs they’ve prepared to sing, instead hiding under the guise of wanting to give the new kids a chance. Everybody looked at him like he was crazy when he first said it. Artie held a look of disappointment that had haunted Blaine for at least a week, but no-one argued.  They had learnt a few months ago that this new, less ostentatious Blaine was the one that was sticking around. A small part of him felt upset that they had just given up, a much larger part had long lost the ability to care. 

  There’s a brief moment when their waiting in the wings when Blaine’s mind suddenly switches to Kurt. He knows he’s in the audience. Kurt, Rachel, Santana, Mike, Quinn, Mercedes, Puck. They all came from their respective parts of the country to watch their old glee club try and retain McKinley's title. He feels a painful pang of regret in his chest as he realises he hasn’t even spoken to his ex in over four months. Tears suddenly fill his eyes and he wipes them away quickly, straightening his tie with his other hand as he breathes in deeply twice. It’s odd, the sudden onset of feelings. The remorse and the sadness. Especially as Blaine hasn’t been feeling an awful lot of anything lately. 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it though as the lights go down and the curtain comes up and he mentally tries to prepare himself for his most important performance of the year. 

  The first song begins and he finds himself drifting almost instantly, searching for Kurt in the audience. Even at one point searching for his parents even though they explained to him why they couldn’t make it weeks ago. He thinks about the point of what they’re doing and can‘t seem to find one. Two stepping around Unique he wonders about what would happen if he did actually find a way to commit suicide. He wonders if anyone would care. 

He’s been through all this before, late at night, night after night, when he’s lying in bed imagining his funeral and thinking about all the ways various people might react. He twirls twice, smoothly transitioning into his next move as he considers why anyone puts up with him anyway. He’s been a terrible friend recently. A terrible everything if he really thinks about it. He’s been selfish and self absorbed and ,god, when was the last time he asked Tina how she was doing? A vice grips at his heart and he has to inhale deeply as he clasps Kitty‘s hand, twirling her inwards towards his body. He genuinely feels like he could collapse at the realisation. He’s an even worse person than he thought he was.

  His wandering mind suddenly catches up with his body and he loses focus for a second, stumbling into Marley and almost knocking her over as he trips over his feet. The music drones on and Ryder continues to sing as Blaine regains his balance, but he knows from the murderous looks he’s getting from the other members of the team that it wasn’t a discrete mistake. The judges definitely saw. 

He takes a deep breath and, as the last few bars of the song ring out and the curtain folds shut, he knows it’s all over. 

  ***

  “Blaine what the fuck was that!?” He’s ambushed as soon as they step back into the wings. There are people swarming around him, like the buzzing of angry wasps mixed in with the monsters from the nightmares he used to have. He’s trying to walk forwards but the space around him is getting smaller and smaller, quickly filling with chiffon and rage. His head seems to be getting cloudier by the second and he’s finding it difficult to think, talk, walk, anything at all. The people around him are still shouting but he can’t hear what they’re saying. He barely makes it ten metres before he lands heavily in a chair and places his head into his hands, rubbing at his eyes as he tries to get a grip on reality. He feels someone crouch in front of him. They place their fingers gently over his wrists. It’s an action that’s surprisingly grounding. 

“Blaine?” The person says quietly, and he realises that it’s Mr Shue. He feels the slight twist of the skin near his thumb as the man turns around briefly, “Guys give him some space”, before the voice is in front of him again. “Blaine can you look at me please?” Blaine doesn’t move, hands still against his face, palms digging slightly into his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He feels embarrassment and annoyance and shame all at once, but he doesn’t know what to do with all the emotions threatening to overflow onto the wooden floor surrounding him. He’s forgotten what it feels like to feel anything. He doesn’t know where all these feelings are meant to go. 

“Blaine, come on, no-one’s mad at you.” That makes him laugh for the first time in weeks because, yes, they are. He feels Mr Shue tighten his hold on his wrists slightly and he makes an impulsive decision. One he knows he’ll probably regret.

“I spend… a lot of time thinking… about the different ways I could… kill myself.” he says. The sentence is slow and he has to force it out, his voice cracking on the final two words. As soon as the final syllable has dissolved on his tongue he wants to take it back. Reel the words back in as though if he caught them quickly enough they wouldn’t yet have reached anyone’s ears. The sudden contrast in the shouting around him to the complete silence now ringing through the air is unnerving. It’s uncomfortable and he almost wishes they would start yelling at him again. 

“Is this why you’re been distant, Blaine?” Mr Shue finally says, his voice breaking through the quiet. It’s oddly strangled, like he was expecting the confession, but doesn’t quite know how to deal with it now it’s been said out loud.  

“I’m really sorry. I’m sorry. I messed up our chance of even getting a prize, god I’m so sorry.” Blaine feels like his body is being stretched in a million different directions. He’s crumbling and exploding all the at once and he doesn’t think he’s felt this much panic in a long, long time. 

“Yeah you should b-” Kitty stops talking suddenly, clearly at the incitement of the other members of the group. Blaine’s breathing quickens and he feels himself sobbing into his hands, shoulders shaking as he completely lets go, hysteria threatening to overcome him. He feels someone drape an arm over his shoulders, begin to rub his back, and it makes his sob even harder. He hasn’t cried this much since that night all those months ago, but now he’s started all the memories and feelings are pouring into him like a burst dam, and he just can’t bring himself to stop. The arm around him feels like Kurt’s, even though it probably isn’t, but it feels like him, and it's comforting and painful all at once. Mr Shue still hasn’t let go of his hands, their grip only tightening, his thumbs rubbing small circles onto Blaine's as he clearly struggles with what to say to the shattered boy in front of him. Blaine's just ruined what the Glee club have been working towards for the past eight months. This time he’s not only wrecked his own life, but he’s managed to contribute to the destruction of countless other people’s.

He always knew this day would come. He’d been trying to delay it. Trying to stop the inevitable from occurring, but now it has. 

It’s all over and he’s got no-one to blame but himself. 

  “Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. “I’m okay” we say. “I’m alright”. But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can’t get it off. That’s when you realise that sometimes it isn’t even an answer- it’s a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is conceived.”

-Markus Zusak, The Book Thief 

  Fin.

[afterawhile]

[afterawhile]

YOU MADE A FANART OF MY FIC!!!!!! YOU MADE A FANART OF MY FIC!!! IT'S BEAUTIFUL AND TOUCHING AND PERFECT AND HOLY SHIT YOU MADE A FANART!!!! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS, YOU ARE WAY TOO PERFECT

OH SHUSH IT’S HARDLY A FANART I DIDN’T EVEN USE PHOTOSHOP BECAUSE I LITERALLY WAS PROCRASTINATING AS I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW AND DIDN’T HAVE TIME. I REALLY WANNA TRY AND DO SOMETHING PROPERLY FOR IT AFTER THIS WEEK IF YOU DON’T MIND!

BUT ANYWAY YOU ARE THE PERFECT ONE MY DEAR, ABSOLUTELY FLAWLESS.

Seriously words cannot express the adoration I have for that fic, and the previous one as well. I just, I don’t even know. The way you write Blaine is so perfect, exactly how I imagine him in my head. He doesn’t want help even from the people closest to him and he pretends like he’s OK, but HE’S really really not.

So many people do the cutting idea badly, I mean even I tried to write a fic about it before I knew what I was really talking about and got it wrong. I exaggerated it and dramatised the whole thing in the wrong way but you. You my dear are extraordinary. It’s written so sensitively and even at times so ordinarily that it really doesn’t seem like a big deal and you start to believe Blaine. 

Your Santana and Rachel and Kurt and Burt are all flawless too. Especially Santana and Rachel, because they’re such difficult characters to write, but you NAILED it!

The journal entries in particular make my heart ache, like seriously, this may sound weird, but you know when you’re reading angst and it’s really really good and you get to a bit that’s particularly painful where the character says or does something that makes you feel that thing in your chest that I can’t explain. like a mixture of happiness (which sounds really bad because it’s your favourite character hurting and yet I’m happy? I don’t get it) and pain for the character and it’s like a good hurt. That’s what the journal entries do to me. In the previous part (Which I read a while ago, and while I have the chance, because I can’t quite remember, I’m really sorry, can I ask if Blaine ever found out about Kurt reading his journal? Did he confront Kurt/ did they have a conversation about it?) and in this part as well. The way he talks to himself, tells himself to stop crying URGH it’s so good in the worst way, I love you. 

I honestly cannot wait for more of this story and more blangst and blaine tears and I get really excited when another part comes up like SO excited. I’m 1700000% sure you will never disappoint because even just reading your spoilers and ideas for what’s coming ahead I can already see how wonderful it’s going to be.

I hope you write blangst forever because everything you write is flawless. 

Also I hope you don’t mind me posting this publicly, but you’re such an amazing writer and this is such a good story I want everyone to read it.

[afterawhile]

So I am totally and utterly in love with this fic and pretty much everything this author writes, and I got kind of bored so put together a stupid thing 

[afterawhile]

Okay lets get some shit straight, because a few people seem to be misinformed of how the world works and are saying stupid things.

It might be your opinion, but it's a stupid opinion, so I'm gonna help you out. 

What we are dealing with here is a celebrity. That means someone who in some way does stuff that forces them into the public eye- i.e a lot of people know who they are.

They do stuff for your enjoyment and that stuff gets sold to you or someone ,somewhere along the line on it's way to you. People have jobs, some people get money, some people are happy. Normal everyday shit. 

Now this whole 'celebrity' thing (which is a whole other weird ballpark, and I'm sure intelligent people can write, and have written wonderful commentary's on it- I'm not going to try). It doesn't mean you know a person. Actually the media's perception of someone is probably the furthest you can get from delving a few measly millimetres into anyone's life. 

Imagine all the shit your brother says. You ignore most of it right? He' s stupid sometimes, he's grouchy sometimes, he's not as fun or funny sometimes, he's really fucking weird sometimes. He's a human being.

You like your brother most of the time anyway, because you've had all this time to bond with him, and learn about him, and you love him because of all the time you've spent with him. Because of all the experiences you've had together. Knowing a person well takes time. 

Imagine if you didn't hear all the shit he says in context, if you didn't know your brother. It would sound different. You would probably think 'oh,that guys being an asshole right now.', But it's still not a big deal, right? Everyone's an asshole sometimes. You can talk with this person you don't really know, have a conversation with them and they can explain what they meant to you. It's very hard to express your opinions in normal conversation concisely after all.

Now imagine if you only got to interact with your brother, or any person, through the media. Everything is pretty much one way. They are talking to you, you cannot talk back. Videos and magazine articles are edited for your enjoyment and to convey information in a succinct manner. 

Edited. This is why the media can sometimes be dangerous. This is why people get so mad at celebrities. Things can, even unintentionally, be twisted. They seem much more of a bigger deal than they are. You now love your brother one minute because he did something super awesome, and then hate him the next because he accidentally ran into an old woman and someone mistook it for assault. There is no in-between because you don't see the in-between. That doesn't mean it isn't there, a lot of people forget that. 

Which (very loosely, but I'm using bullet points so fuck it) leads to change.

Darren has changed. of course he's changed. Everyone fucking changes. I've changed from 2 weeks ago. My father's changed from when he was a teenager. Darren has a different life now. He's older, probably a lot happier. He's surrounded by different people. He's not a robot built with a sunny personalty to please the population.

And this sexuality argument crap? You think Darren is lying? OK, well let him lie then. Who cares. That's no-ones business. Would you pry into the life of one of your friend's mothers aunt's second cousin's friend's sister's daughter? Would you passionately accuse them of lying about something and get upset. No. You wouldn't give a shit. 

Apply that same principle here. You will be happier in the long run. Especially when you end up getting frustrated because you never seem to get a definite answer to your very personal questions. Trust me.

There are things to discuss, there are things to have opinions about. 

But we are not discussing those things.

We are discussing someone's life. No, actually, someone's personality. There are people getting upset because someone they don't know is different from the 2D line drawing they have had to colour in using a stapler.

People are people, when you start treating them as such you will be a lot happier. 

Because then you can enjoy Darren's acting and his music and his other work and his personality, and you take everything else with a pinch of salt.

Because you only know what's written on the god damn packet and absolutely nothing about how the salt  was fucking extracted or packaged or transported.

And for the love of god I'm not trying to start an argument or upset anyone here, but I've seen this so much lately, not just about Darren Criss, not just on tumblr.

A lot of very intelligent (especially young) people have got the wrong image of celebrities and it's scary and worrying.

Appreciate people for who they are. Don't take such mundane things so seriously. Try and be rational and love stuff because you love stuff, not because the stuff is perfect.

[afterawhile]

i’d break like 6 laws for a grilled cheese