For Him

Chapter 7- The Bar

"What was that all about?" Kurt asked, still in the same position as earlier.

His eyes were unmoving, and stayed straight ahead to look at nothing in particular.

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Just asking how the family is and all."

These kinds of calls happened at least once a month, as if Blaine would give up on Kurt between that time. Maybe it would be easier if he had just called it quits. Never, Blaine had said. It's not possible.

Kurt had no clue what went on, or at least never brought it up in conversation.

"Uh, anyways... What did he want to talk with you about? Is something wrong?" Blaine said.

Yes. Yes something is wrong, Kurt thought.

"He's...he's going back to work tomorrow," he said, turning back to Blaine and trying to smile.

He should be happy, right? He should be happy about his father getting his life back together. For his dad to be able to make his own money. For him to give up his other job.

"That's wonderful! I'll invite him over for dinner to celebrate the good news," Blaine exclaimed, reaching for the phone.

Kurt leapt towards the phone, grabbing it just before it touched the other man's fingertips, and shoved it into his back pocket.

"Actually, I'm just going to go to the bar tonight instead... " he said, starting towards the door.

I need to be there for him. He's going to need me to support him financially when he can't. My dad needs me.

"Kurt..."

"What? I'm just going to have a quick drink. You can handle yourself for the night, right?"

"Kurt, you don't need to do this anymore," Blaine stuttered on his words. "We'll be fine on money, he's got everything handled! He'll be able to pay his bills and get his own food and-"

Kurt's hand hovered over the doorknob, and he stayed faced towards the door when he spoke in a low voice, "I'll be back soon. Don't worry about me."

The door slammed shut, and Kurt was gone.

"Not possible," Blaine whispered, knowing full well the boy couldn't hear him. "I'll always worry about you."

Even if Kurt was there, it wouldn't matter. It seemed like he was never really listening to what he said.

~~~

Kurt felt like he was drunk even before he walked into the bar. Everything was screaming in color, vibrant and hazy all at the same time. The edges of his vision were laced with blurs, but the all too familiar neon lights led his way.

"Hey, Bartender Phil!" he yelled once he stumbled in, throwing his hands up in the air. His body felt numb, but something in his brain told him what he was supposed to do- what he needed to do.

"Hi, Prostitute Kurt," Phil mumbled, already starting on his go-to drink.

"That's rude," Kurt pointed out, taking the glass in both his hands. "and totally unnecessary... Kinda like me."

Something in his head switched off from the moment he handed the phone over to Blaine. Much like a light switch, everything was turned down, and everything was dark.

So what did the complete zombie-like poor judgment based Kurt do? He stood on a table.

"Here's to freedom," Kurt took a sip of his cocktail. "...freedom in chains!"

Several people called back at him, either cheering or yelling phrases like "Ain't that America!" and "Got that right!"

Kurt laughed, feeling his feet losing traction from the table's edge. "Now who wants to sleep with me? Get in line boys- only $100 per customer!"

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