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[backtoblaineanderson]

Open Starter: Old Habits Die Hard

It had been two years since the divorce, and just a mere few hours since Blaine’s latest release from rehab. Here he sat, on a metal bench in a subway tunnel, his back pressed to a cold cement wall with a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips as he waited for the train to take him back to Manhattan, and subsequently his cozy apartment. Some might question the ethics behind smoking after just leaving a center designed to help with addictions, but it wasn’t like Blaine had wanted to be there anyway. He just hadn’t had much of a choice when his father had threatened to not only cut him off, but write him out of his will if he didn’t get his act together. 

It also wasn’t like Blaine didn’t know he’d gone off the rails, and he had the pap pictures to prove it. Despite everything, he was fully aware of that fact, he just didn’t care. In his mind, this is what he needed to get through each day, so what could be so wrong about a beer here, a cigarette there if he was left feeling less empty than he had prior to engaging in them? He pulled himself from the trance of thought he’d been in, and immediately his eyes landed on the reflective metal plating on one of the columns across from him. He looked awful, and all he could think about was how disgusted a much younger, more suave version of himself would have been if he’d seen himself now. He had stubble, his hair wasn’t gelled despite sitting in a tunnel full of people, and... sweatpants. He was wearing sweatpants in public. Letting out a scoff, he fished his phone out of his pocket, loading up a game to occupy himself while he waited, and to stop that thought process in it’s tracks.