For Him

Chapter 5- Drunk

The rest of the story will be written in 3rd person unless you're told differently. And I'm sorry for the super long wait. I'll try to get the next one out faster. Thanks.

Kurt didn't know what time it was, where he was, or why he was there. He just knew that he had a killer headache and a man standing over him.

"What time did you get back here?" The man said. Kurt's vision was getting a little clearer, the blobs and blurs turning into some definite shapes.

Oh, right. Kurt thought, rubbing his eyes. That's my roommate.

Things were knocked off of shelves, plastic tchotchkes scattered on the floor, and an empty bottle of some alcoholic substance in which Kurt couldn't read the label of.

"No fucking clue."

"Kurt, look around! Look at this place!" Blaine raised his voice. "It's 1 o' clock in the morning and you're wasted." He shook his head, pacing the floors.

Kurt put his hands over his head, trying to squeeze his forehead hard enough so that the ache would go down. I don't have time for this.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Blainey-boy!" He moaned, his words jumbled together. "I'll clean it up later!"

Blaine sighed, and started to pick things up off the ground aggressively. Snatch. Huff. Groan. Snatch. Sigh. Groan. Huff.

"You know what? I'm sick of being the one doing all the work around here. This is your apartment too and it's time you start acting like it!"

Kurt pouted, rolling his body to one side so that he was almost in fetal position. "You can't yell at me," he slurred, "I'm drunk! Can't yell at a drunk man, can ya?"

"No, but I can yell at a sober man in a couple hours. Get some sleep, you'll need the energy to clean the whole day."

Blaine knew Kurt wouldn't remember this eight hours later, when he woke up for a second time with a dustpan laying next to him, but it felt good letting his anger out. Not that he hadn't already done that enough in the past 24 hours.

"Hey, Blainey?" Kurt mumbled. "What happened to your asshole parents? Thought they were staying the night."

Just the mention of them made him cringe, the memories of just hours before flooding back. The way he yelled at his parents (he'd never ever raised his voice when it came to them), when he kicked them out of the apartment, telling them they weren't welcome there anymore, and how he cried like a little girl in the silence.

"They...uh...they went back home. My father had a stomach bug."

Kurt replied with a mere whisper, like he was speaking to himself. "I hope it was a silverfish..." He started laughing hysterically, like he'd just told the best pun in the world, though it was mediocre at best.

Blaine's eyes started to droop, but he refused to go back to his bed. He rolled a now drained Kurt onto his side, and sat with him on the floor until he was sure that Kurt wouldn't roll back over and choke on his vomit. That just so happened to be at 9 o' clock in the morning.

Kurt remembered nothing at 10 o' clock that day. He didn't remember what Blaine did for him, how noble and strong he was standing against his parents. He didn't know the sacrifices Blaine made for him every single day.

All Kurt knew was that he was mopping up puke and chards of glass for a while. Not how Blaine felt, not what Blaine did, not what Blaine does.

But Blaine never reminds him.

Credit to The_Midnight_Wolf for making my book cover! Check out the account!