This is the second part of what I'm not referring to as my Mad World series of stories. They're all suicides or attempted suicides of Glee characters. This one here is slightly more optimistic than the others, and may have another one shot that goes along with it. I'm sorry if this makes anyone sad. I got a lot of Reviews from "I Find It Hard To Tell You", which is my first Mad World one-shot, telling me it made them cry.

This is Blaine Anderson's Mad World.

"I'm not okay."

That's where it started. Three little words. Nine letters. One sentence that brought Blaine Anderson's world to a spin. Not being okay was one thing... admitting it, was completely different.

Transferring to a prep school in the middle of a semester is about as atypical as it gets in Ohio. Transferring to a prep school in the middle of a semester, because you're gay and your brother and his friends decided to try and kill you, is unheard of. Yet here Blaine is, standing on a staircase, his eyes searching the crowded hallways for a glimpse of normal, of typical. He craves it. Wants it. Needs it. Longs for it. Would die for it...

Blaine lasts five months before he says the words.

He keeps to himself most of the time. Everyone still whispers, speculates, gossips... even if they are slightly more careful about it, slightly less mean. Blaine ignores everything, everyone. Ignores Wes, the nice boy in his latin class that tries to befriend him, David, the boy that sits with him at lunch even when he doesn't talk, Thad, the boy who got asked to show him around. He sits with them, but he doesn't speak, his voice stays unused, silent, his throat permanantly constriced.

The boys seem to be used to his lingering shadow, for that's all he is, the mute kid. Blaine tries to communicate somehow after a while, figuring that they deserve something for all they've done to try to welcome him. He looks at them when they speak, not always registering what they say, and making no movement to show he understands, but he looks at them...and they take what they can get...

Blaine avoids touch, flinches when Wes tries to pat him on the back, or David punches his shoulder friendly. Blaine never had friends, isn't sure if he even wants friends. Just more people to hurt, more people to hurt him. Blaine's already too hurt...

It's May thirty-first when Blaine finds himself sitting on the floor of his bathroom, digging the cold, unfeeling blade through his skin for the last time. There are three deep marks across his chest, traced over other healed scars. The letter's G, A and Y harshly dug into his skin. Another sixteen across his tanned arms. His blazer lays loose around his shoulders, as does his dress shirt. His tie was flung across the room, he was pretty sure it's hanging off a lamp. But it's not important.

Blaine's all alone, he knows it, accepts it, and he feels it in his bones. The loneliness. His will to live is gone. He wishes it wasn't. Wishes he could be strong, wishes his family loved him, wishes he could be friends with the boys here. Secretly wishes his brother had killed him when he tried.

He lays there for fifteen minutes, blood dripping almost serenely out of the gruesome wounds on his chest and forearms. For those fifteen minutes he cries. Cries for everything. His mother, his father, his brother, his old life, where he wasn't just the gay kid, where he didn't feel contaminated..infected. He cries because he longs to be normal. Like the others.

Fifteen minutes after Blaine digs that blade into his flesh for the last time, three boys burst through the door.

Blaine stays where he is, just staring up at the teenagers, their eyes set, sadness and determination bleeding into their normally cheerful faces. One look into Wes's eyes and he knows, he knows that they knew. He wants to tell Wes...David...Thad...Someone. Blaine doesn't even know if he can speak anymore, but he opens his mouth anyways. Trying to thank the boys... No...the men in front of him.

Wes supports Blaine's aching torso against his uniform clad chest, his normally soft eyes wet with warm tears as he hugs the towel to Blaine's chest. Thad sits cross legged between Blaine's knees, his hands clutching a towel to Blaine's left arm, his face pulled taut with worry...and David curls up into Blaine's side, his left hand pressing a washcloth to Blaine's right arm, his other hand holding his phone, asking the 911 dispatcher to hurry, begging the person on the other end to save him.

"I'm not okay."

Blaine doesn't know what makes him say it, but the words burn. They're hoarse and quiet, almost a whisper, and his throat aches with the strain. His eyes sting with rough tears, his heart pounding loudly in his chest and head weary from the bloodloss.

David and Thad's heads shoot up immediately, surprise on their faces as it clicks that Blaine can actually speak. They both smile slightly, and Blaine can feel Wes's lips twitch up into a smile as well. His warm breath, soothing on the back of Blaine's neck.

Wes hugs Blaine close to his chest, the towel pressing hard against the three letters that had been engraved there by his brother, just before he had stabbed the knife into his side eight months ago...

Hot tears drip onto Blaine's shoulders and dress pants as the three men cry, Blaine's tears mixing with Wes's as they run over the flesh of his upper torso.

"We know Blaine," he whispers, mouth close to his ear and yet the voice still quiet, the sirens slowly entering into the background almost enveloping the soft sound. Blaine leans back into the embrace, his hands reaching out to clasp with all his remaining strength at the arms of the two boys at his feet.

"Don't worry Blaine. We've got you."

Blaine has no words that suit how he feels. He settles for the simplest ones.

"Thank you."

If you ever feel like killing yourself, get help. You can talk to me, or a friend or family member, call a helpline. One of my friends has tried to kill herself twice and twice I have managed to somehow talk her out of it. Please talk to someone if you feel this way okay. I promise that no matter how shitty life seems it is worth living.

Suicide is not a way out, it's a way to hurt those around you. Please talk to someone if you need help. My inbox is open to anyone who wishes to post in it.

Read and Review. :) I love you guys!