Blaine
The smell of coffee and burnt toast filled the apartment as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to tame my curls into something presentable.
Keyword: attempting.
I groaned and dropped my brush onto the counter.
"Why do you hate me?" I asked my reflection.
My reflection offered no answers. Rude.
The sound of my phone vibrating against the sink made me jump.
I didn't need to look at the screen to know who it was.
Austin.
Again.
My stomach twisted.
Slowly, I picked up the phone.
Austin: Good morning.
Austin: You awake?
Austin: Blaine?
Austin: Why aren't you answering?
I glanced at the time.
7:12 a.m.
He'd started texting at 7:03.
Nine minutes.
Nine minutes without a response.
And somehow that was already a problem.
Taking a deep breath, I typed back.
Me: Sorry. Getting ready for class.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Like he'd been staring at the screen waiting.
Austin: Took you long enough.
I swallowed.
A year ago I would've laughed that message off.
Now it made my chest tighten.
Because I already knew how the conversation would go.
If I argued, he'd get annoyed.
If I apologized, he'd tell me I was overreacting.
If I ignored him, he'd call.
And call.
And call.
Until I answered.
The front door opened.
A familiar voice drifted through the apartment.
"Blaine? You alive in there?"
I immediately smiled.
Garrett.
"Depends who's asking."
"It's your favourite brother."
"My only brother."
"Details."
I laughed despite myself.
A few moments later Garrett appeared in the doorway, dressed in athletic shorts and a Briar hockey shirt.
He looked annoyingly awake for someone who had early morning practice.
"You're staring at your phone again."
My smile disappeared.
Great.
Observant Garrett.
My least favourite Garrett.
"It's nothing."
His eyes narrowed immediately.
"Right."
"It is."
"Blaine."
"Garrett."
He folded his arms.
I folded mine.
We stared at each other.
Neither of us willing to back down.
Eventually he sighed.
"You know you're terrible at lying, right?"
I looked away.
Because unfortunately he was right.
Growing up, Garrett had always been able to tell when something was wrong.
Usually before I could.
It was annoying.
And comforting.
Mostly annoying.
"Everything's fine," I said quietly.
His expression told me he didn't believe me.
Not even a little bit.
Before he could push further, my phone buzzed again.
The sound seemed deafening in the small bathroom.
Garrett glanced at the screen.
I flipped it over before he could read anything.
Too late.
His jaw tightened.
"That him?"
I didn't answer.
Which was answer enough.
For a second something flashed across Garrett's face.
Concern.
Then frustration.
Then concern again.
"Blaine—"
"I'm going to be late."
It was a pathetic excuse.
We both knew it.
Still, Garrett let it go.
For now.
"Okay."
I grabbed my bag.
He stepped aside to let me pass.
Just as I reached the front door he spoke again.
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
My hand tightened around the strap of my bag.
For one brief second I almost told him everything.
How exhausted I felt.
How every text message made me nervous.
How I spent half my day worrying about whether Austin was going to be angry.
How I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt completely relaxed.
The words sat on the tip of my tongue.
Then fear won.
Like it always did.
"I'm fine."
Garrett watched me carefully.
Then he nodded.
But his eyes said he wasn't convinced.
Not even close.
By lunchtime I regretted getting out of bed.
My hair had refused to cooperate.
My professor had announced a surprise assignment.
And Austin had texted me twenty-three times.
Twenty-three.
I counted.
Because apparently I hated myself.
I sat at a table in the student center, poking at a sandwich while pretending to listen to Dean and Logan argue.
"You absolutely cheated," Logan said.
Dean looked offended.
"I don't cheat."
"You do."
"I strategically bend the rules."
"That's cheating."
"No, that's winning."
I laughed.
Dean pointed at me immediately.
"See? Blaine agrees with me."
"I literally didn't hear what either of you said."
"Traitor."
"Try harder next time."
Dean pressed a hand dramatically against his chest.
"You wound me."
Across from us, Logan rolled his eyes.
Some things never changed.
Dean being dramatic was one of them.
The familiar warmth of friendship settled around me.
For a little while, things felt normal.
Easy.
Safe.
Then my phone vibrated.
Everything shattered.
I looked down.
Six new messages.
All from Austin.
My pulse quickened.
Logan noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Dean frowned.
"That looked like a something face."
"A what?"
"A something face."
"That's not a thing."
"It is now."
I tried smiling.
Nobody bought it.
Especially Logan.
His eyes stayed fixed on me.
Studying.
Watching.
Noticing.
The problem with being friends with observant people was that they eventually saw things you didn't want them to see.
"Is it Austin?" Logan asked quietly.
My stomach dropped.
"Why does everyone keep asking that?"
"Because every time your phone goes off you look like you're about to throw up."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Because part of me knew he was right.
I hated that.
"I have to go."
Dean blinked.
"You just sat down."
"I forgot something."
"Blaine—"
"I'll see you guys later."
Before they could stop me, I grabbed my bag and hurried away.
The second I was outside, I opened the messages.
Austin: Where are you?
Austin: Why aren't you answering?
Austin: Who are you with?
Austin: Blaine.
Austin: Answer me.
Austin: Now.
My hands started shaking.
I hated that they still had that effect on me.
I hated that one text could ruin my entire day.
Most of all, I hated that I still cared.
Because there had been a time when Austin wasn't like this.
Or maybe there hadn't.
Maybe I just hadn't noticed.
Maybe the warning signs had always been there.
Maybe I'd just ignored them.
Because it was easier.
Because I loved him.
Because admitting the truth felt impossible.
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then slowly typed a reply.
Me: I'm with friends.
The response came instantly.
Austin: Which friends?
My chest tightened.
I already knew where this was going.
And somehow I still answered.
Because fighting took energy.
And I didn't have much left.
Not anymore.