022 // Text.

[showbizpanache]

If anyone has seen or heard anything from Blaine Anderson please let me know. He has been missing for more than a day now.

He hasn't gone home; I know that for sure. I've attached a photo of him for those who haven't previously met him.

Here. His hair is black and curly and he's about 5'7" in height. He was wearing a red Ralph Lauren sweater and cropped jeans.

Thank you.

Comments

[igottagay]

uh no shit he lied about them

if hes crushing shit up and snorting it hes going to lie about it

havent you ever seen intervention?? this is textbook sketchy behavior

how do you like your voodoo dolls by the way cause i totally have enough dna of that skeeze to make a pretty fucking baller one in like half an hour

[showbizpanache]

[Snorting? ...Ew.]

He lied to my face.

He spent all our money on that nonsense and then he blatantly lied to me

[It's as if he's putting all of this together, and he's just getting angrier and angrier. His hands start to shake as he holds the NV.]

[igottagay]

[There's a long pause before she texts back.]

im going to come down and deal with this shit in person

unlock your door or whatever

[showbizpanache]

K

[And he does, before flopping back onto the couch with his tea. No coffee for him. No coffee for a long, long time.]

[igottagay]

[And in a couple of minutes, Santana is there, drawing up a chair by the couch.

She then places a bottle of whiskey on the table.

Nothing else needs to be said.]

[showbizpanache]

[That gets a small, bitter smile from Kurt. It's just like what Roxie used to do. Honestly, he doesn't want to be near any sort of mind-altering substance right now, but he gets two glasses anyway, just to indulge her.

He hands her one.] Here's to drama, I suppose.

[igottagay]

Cheers to bitches and booze.

[Flippantly, as she pours them both a glass.]

... How much money are we talking?

[showbizpanache]

[He laughs bitterly as he takes his glass.]

At least two hundred dollars. And that's only when I started noticing it.

[Thinking about it just makes him furious, so he tosses back the whiskey. It makes him cough--he's not a drinker by any means--but hell if he doesn't pour himself another one, eyes watering.]

[igottagay]

[Santana takes the shot with him easily, clearing her throat.]

You can do better than that bullshit.

[showbizpanache]

[He isn't sure if she's talking about his relationship or the drinking-- But he takes another shot anyway, coughing a little less this time. It hits him pretty hard, and he shudders and lets out a short laugh.]

Right? And I thought we were gonna get married. That's bullshit. [More giggling. Yeah, he's a lightweight.]

[igottagay]

[Oh, wow, Kurt, that is... impressive. Santana almost laughs, but she respectfully keeps it to herself, for once, instead focusing on pouring him another shot.]

Marriage is bullshit anyway.

[showbizpanache]

[He takes it gratefully and tosses it back. Hoo boy. He's in for it when he stands up.]

Y-yeah, it totally is. So stupid. Y'know what else's stupid? Valentine's Day. I always thought it was lame.

[igottagay]

Ugh, completely. I'm single, again, with no plans, it's a fucking tragedy, Kurt.

[She takes another shot, gritting her teeth.]

[showbizpanache]

[Sniffing a bit, he nods, recovering from his last couple shots. It's a lot harder to control his emotions when he's drinking, he realizes. Huh.]

How could I not notice, Santana? [He leans his head on his hand, miserable.] Why was I so damn stupid?

[igottagay]

[Santana immediately scoots forward to grab his shoulder, shaking it lightly with a scowl.]

You're not stupid. You're, like, one of the smartest losers I know, and that's saying a lot, because I know a lot of smart losers. Like, all of you losers. Are super smart. And it's fucking annoying, fail at something for once, dios mio --

[Wait. Wrong language. Santana pauses for a moment or two to check herself.]

-- it's not your fault he's a douchebag.

[showbizpanache]

[He can't help but smile, but his chest (and the rest of his body, actually) is still aching. Hnngh. He needs more alcohol.

As he pours himself some:] We broke up once before, you know.

[igottagay]

Warbler McDoucheface told me.

What was it over?