characters/pairings (all): implied Blaine/Eli, implied Nick/Sebastian, endgame Sebastian/Blaine, Adam, Rachel, Jesse, Cooper, Hunter, Marley, Puck, Kitty, Santana, Tina, Sam, Sugar, Terri

author's notes: a Seblaine Imogene AU, which was only a matter of time to be honest. i haven't actually seen the movie, i just interpreted whatever the trailer gave us, so spoilers only for that trailer. title taken from Aviation High by Semi Precious Weapons, which you should give a listen during chapter 3. my endless love goes out to xsaturated for beta-reading and brainstorming :)

warnings (all): blangst, sexual situations, explicit language

WE'RE ALIVE ALIVE

part one

"I think I should move out."

The six words held no meaning.

"What?" he asked, looking over at Eli in the driver's seat.

"I'm moving out," Eli said, an active construction this time, his hand tightening around the wheel and eyes avoiding him.

His heart rate spiked, blood rushing to his ears, the words finding their proper meaning one by one, combining into something he didn't want to hear. "What are you saying?" he asked, voice shaking, palms clammy, his heart clenching in his chest.

Eli sighed. "You know what I'm saying, Blaine," he said, stopping the car for a red light. Eli looked at him, his face serious, eyes determined. "Things haven't been okay for a while."

He cast down his eyes. The degree of separation between them had increased, nights spent alone on the couch because Eli was working a night shift at the hospital or because he was on call, his hours as resident even worse than the hours he studied to get his medical degree, the nights that they did spent in bed together were spent sleeping instead of making love, silence at the breakfast table. But they'd always known Eli's job would take its toll on their relationship.

"I know–we haven't found much time for each other these past few weeks–"

"Months," Eli corrected.

"But we can work on that," he said, a half turn in his seat so he could face Eli. They needed to make time for each other, that's all, set some time aside to talk about things, maybe they could get away somewhere. "That's what couples do, they–"

Eli shook his head. "Blaine, I'm trying–"

"What?" he insisted, because there was something Eli wasn't saying, he knew him well enough to see that, four years had ensured he read Eli like no one else, the exasperated sigh meaning impatience, the shake of his head disappointment or defeat, his eyes averted in fear or shame.

"I–" Eli sighed again, a car honked behind them and they were driving again. Which meant Eli wasn't looking at him anymore. "I'm trying to let you down easy."

Tears sprang to his eyes.

"Easy?" he choked out as Eli parked the car in the usual spot.

Where was this coming from? They had fun tonight, Eli had always talked about his colleagues, but it had been his first time meeting them. He heard stories about their first rotation, incidents he didn't necessarily understand the ins and outs of, but Eli had smiled and blushed and it was the most fun they'd had in ages. He'd wanted to kiss Eli right there, hold his hand, but he knew his boyfriend didn't like that, not in front of the other residents.

Nothing had indicated that their night would end like this. Up until a few moments ago he'd been excited at the prospect of having Eli to himself tonight, he'd missed his kisses and soft touches, the sweet things Eli liked to whisper in his ear while they made love–

"E, what are you– What are you saying?"

Eli unbuckled his seatbelt and looked at him, eyes devoid of any sentiment he recognized. Whatever was coming next, he wasn't going to like it. "I don't want to be with you anymore."

He fell speechless.

"I think we should go our separate ways," Eli added.

"No," he whined, tears in his eyes.

"B–"

He fumbled with his seatbelt fast, struggling to unhook it and reached for Eli's face. "Baby, I love you," he said, but Eli grabbed his wrists and pulled down his hands. "We can work this out, just talk to me," he pleaded, a shamefully small part of him upset that he was lowering himself to begging his boyfriend to stay.

"I just did," Eli said, cradling his hands between his. "I care about you, Blaine, and we've been good for each other, but–" He looked down, shook his head. "I don't love you anymore."

The words impacted like a bomb, an earth-shattering explosion and a following pressure wave, throwing his entire world off-kilter. "I can't believe this." He cried. "I don't understand where this is coming from."

It felt too sudden, too out-of-nowhere to be serious, maybe the pressure of his job was getting to Eli, maybe his fellow students' silent judgment of their relationship was getting to be too much, but they loved each other. Other people shouldn't matter.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," Eli said. "This isn't–easy for me. But we can't keep holding on to something empty, B. It's not healthy."

He pulled his hands free from Eli's grip, sagged down in his seat. He never saw this coming, perhaps he'd read Eli's silences as stress by mistake, his lack of kisses following suit in a heart that no longer cared and then their sex life disappeared–that all just happened. Was that the emptiness Eli talked about? He'd never felt it, not until now, not until Eli decided to point it out. But this could be fixed. They could try harder.

"I'm going to stay at a hotel tonight."

He closed his eyes, trying to remain stable while the next shockwave overtook him, and he held back tears. He had to be calm about this; if he could get Eli upstairs maybe he could get him to talk, maybe he could give him what they'd been missing–sex wasn't the most important part of their relationship, but if he made Eli feel good again, take away some of the insecurity–

"You'll need some clothes," he said, attempted to control the quiver in his voice, hoping Eli didn't decipher what he was trying to do. He knew Eli's body, he knew what to do to make him feel good, to show him what they'd be giving up.

Eli swallowed hard. "I have a bag in the trunk," he said. "I packed it three days ago."

.

.

He staggered into the elevator with shaky legs, leaving Eli behind, left behind rather and Eli hadn't spared him a second glance as he drove off. To his hotel, to an unknown bed.

The clang of his keys sounded too loud in the hallway, everything enhanced somehow, sound and smell, vision sharp yet blurry around the edges, but those were the tears in his eyes. He closed the door behind him carefully, not making a sound, but it put the silence inside the flat in stark contrast with Eli's words still spinning circles in his head.

The flat felt empty, cold, only his love to heat it up, Eli's somewhere downtown in an equally empty room. But Eli chose the solitude, Eli had chosen to leave him and he realized that mentally Eli probably left weeks ago. It'd been cruel of him to hang on, stay with him when all this time– how long exactly? – Eli had been working up the courage to tell him. Maybe Eli hadn't wanted to leave, maybe he'd tried to make it work and he'd been too blind to see.

He put his keys down on the dresser, toed off his shoes, his legs weak, his entire body jittery.

He looked back at the door, checking behind him for something missing now. Maybe Eli would still come, maybe he'd realize his mistake tonight or tomorrow when he woke up in a strange bed without him sleeping beside him.

It happened too fast, felt too sudden, like Eli was running for the hills and had to make sure to dump him before he left.

What was Eli running from? What had he done to chase him away?

Everything felt wrong inside the flat, hollow, and that was too soon, Eli's clothes still lay in a heap on the bed, tossed aside a few hours ago before he'd hopped into the shower and dressed in something more casual–Eli had looked so handsome, relaxed, and he'd helped him get the lint of his shirt while Eli teased him about being OCD.

They'd laughed together not five hours ago, where had it gone wrong?

Why was Eli giving up on them?

Maybe he–

What if–

He clasped a hand over his mouth, high-tailed it for the bathroom and threw up the risotto he had earlier, his throat burning with acid, his jaws straining. What if there was someone else? What if Eli met someone better? He should have asked in the car, should have made Eli explain why he was leaving, what had gone wrong, what gave him the right to break his heart. Because now Eli was gone, and the small voice inside whispered he wouldn't be coming back.

He never thought his heart could actually feel like it was breaking, zigzagged in half, even though he knew it was his head catching up, but his chest hurt, his stomach felt heavy and all he wanted was for Eli to hug his arms around him and hold everything together. But what if Eli was holding someone else now?

He scrambled for his phone, dialled Eli's number, uncertain whether his voice would even allow him to ask right now. But he needed to know, he needed to know if someone else had caught Eli's eye.

"Blaine, you shouldn't call me," were the first words out of Eli's mouth.

"Is there someone else?" he spit, hoisting himself up against the bathtub. A positive answer would only be added torture, something he'd rather not know, but he needed a reason better than I don't love you anymore.

"What?" Eli asked.

"Have you met someone?" he enunciated more clearly, while tears ran down his face.

Eli sighed and he could see, how Eli drew a hand over his face first, then buried it in his hair, fingers massaging at his scalp while he tried to formulate a satisfying answer. "No, baby, there's no one else."

The pet name struck hard at his heart. Eli still cared.

He sniffled, tried to control his breathing. "Then why?"

"I'm not explaining this again, Blaine," Eli said. "It's over."

He closed a hand over his eyes, pulled his legs up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. It couldn't be over, not like this, not without trying.

"We drifted apart the way that people do sometimes," Eli added, his voice sad despite the separation he surprised him with. "It wasn't my fault and it wasn't yours."

Only it had to be someone's fault, didn't it? People didn't just drift apart, didn't just decide to give up on four years together because things had cooled down. No, one of them had given up, one of them had decided to stop working at what they had. And he couldn't figure out which one of them it had been.

"Get some sleep," Eli said. "We'll talk about my stuff later."

He dropped his hand to his lap. "I love you," he said softly, but it already felt like he was talking to a ghost that was fading into the ether.

Eli inhaled deeply. "Goodnight, Blaine."

"Baby, please, I–" he begged, but the line went dead before he could tell Eli, beg him to talk, beg him to stay, beg him to come back, he'd do anything at this point. He drew in a breath, throat choking off his air and he released a pathetic whimper that echoed through the bathroom, choked breaths now mixing with his sobs.

The flat was empty, no love, no warmth. No Eli.

Eli was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

.

.

His phone woke him after only half an hour of sleep. He'd cried all night, curled up in a fetal position on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a tight blanket of denial and memories of happier times. He'd tried calling Eli again, but his phone kept jumping to voicemail. He wanted to talk some sense into his boyfriend, needed Eli to realize it was a mistake to walk away, they'd shared something real that most people only dreamed of and there was no reason they couldn't get that back.

But his phone calls remained unanswered.

His eyes felt puffy and his throat hurt, his nose red, tissues covering the floor all around him.

"Blaine, it's mom," his mother's voice sounded and he wished he'd checked his caller ID first. But answering the phone seemed so simple and uncomplicated in a world that made a little less sense today, it was something he didn't need to think about.

"I just heard," his mother said.

He frowned; how could she possibly know already? The only other person who knew was Eli, and–Eli called his mother? That had to mean part of him still cared. Why else would Eli make sure his mother knew he was going through a tough time? Maybe there was hope.

"Mom, I'm fine," he blurted out, sitting up while his head throbbed painfully. He wasn't fine, not in the least, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and anything could set him off again, but he didn't want to worry his mother. She had a knack for meddling in his life when he didn't need it.

"You don't sound fine."

"That's because I've been crying." He rubbed at his eyes wearily, exhaustion sunk into his bones, weighed down by hurt. "He le–" He took a deep breath. "He left, mom, what did you expect?"

"Honey, let me come over and make you something," his mother begged, the hesitation in his voice undoing her.

"No, mom, I'm–" he started, but fine seemed like the wrong word to use again. He didn't need anyone around but Eli, he wanted Eli's arms around him telling him it was all a mistake, that he'd run scared for stupid reasons but he could forgive that.

He needed Eli back. But that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

"I really need to be alone right now," he lied, and it took him another half hour to convince his mother that he could take care of himself, that there were friends he could call before she had to come over by train to make him soup or tea or something else she found comforted her.

He knew very well there was nothing that could soothe his hurt. Only someone.

But that someone was gone.

.

.

There was a decisive knock on the door around noon the next day; the only thing he'd done was move to the couch with his box of tissues, phone fully charged on the coffee table in case Eli called, flipping through channels on the television without ever settling on anything in particular. His head wasn't in it, but off somewhere looking for what had gone missing from his life.

Silences at breakfast were preferable over this.

But then there was that knock and he all but sprinted for the door, immediately thinking it would be Eli.

"Hello, love," a face said to him, followed by a sad smile, and it took him a long time to place either.

"Adam," he said, hoping his disappointment didn't sound too obvious. "What are you doing here?"

"Eli sent me," Adam answered, and when he looked at Adam again he could tell that Eli had told him what happened. Adam was one of Eli's closest friends, the two of them had met their first year at college and had stuck together, so it shouldn't surprise him that Adam already knew.

"He wanted to come himself, but–" Adam sighed, managing a half-hearted laugh, residual hurt from his own breakup a few months ago shining through in his eyes. "Only that's bullshit, isn't it?" he amended, and it was, bullshit, Eli didn't want to see him, maybe because he didn't want to run the risk of keeping their empty relationship going. He wished he didn't already sound so bitter.

He and Eli were there for Adam through a very ugly breakup, his ex had been cheating on him for months before confessing and Adam had been a complete mess. He wondered if he looked the same now, a shadow of himself without Eli.

"I thought you could use a friendly face," Adam said.

"How is he?" he asked, curiosity getting the best of him. He wasn't sure what he wanted Adam to say, whether he wanted Eli as miserable as he was or if he wanted proof that Eli left him because what they had truly had turned empty.

"Dealing." Adam shrugged. "Working. You know how he gets."

He nodded numbly. He'd taken time off work because he needed to deal with things in his own time, and his boss owed him more vacation days than she cared to admit. But he knew it wasn't that simple for Eli, not as a first-year resident.

"He–asked me to pick up some of his things," Adam said tentatively, reaching for something that had been standing against the wall up until now: three folded cardboard boxes.

Something inside him snapped.

We'll talk about my stuff later, Eli had said, but they hadn't talked, he hadn't heard from Eli for two days straight and now–

Eli was leaving. Eli was actually leaving him.

Tears assaulted his eyes and he stumbled backwards into the flat, arms finding support once he hit the couch, but he stood shaking, the defeat he felt overwhelming. Eli was giving up on four years, four good years, four wonderful years, four years they'd spent together happy. They had their occasional spat, but they never raised their voices to each other, they weren't those people, they dealt with things, they talked to each other.

He couldn't just let them... die.

"I'm so sorry." He felt Adam's hand on his shoulder squeezing hard, the solid touch bringing him back. "I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. But Eli thought it best I–"

He nodded, running a hand over his face, desperately trying to hold the pieces of himself together. He hadn't thought about it until now, how Adam was Eli's friend first and Adam was doing everything he could to show he hadn't chosen sides. Only he would, eventually, given enough time all their friends would choose sides.

"Take what you need," he choked out, but didn't follow Adam into the bedroom.

He stood there, clutching the back of the couch, while Adam packed Eli's belongings, his shirts and pants and sweaters, his underwear and his socks, his tooth brush, some of the CDs Eli swore he couldn't live without. One by one, item by item, Eli left a little, not the memories, but the objects, and it was disconcerting how much it affected him. It made everything real, permanent, Eli gone. Eli disappeared.

He remembered when they first moved in how pathetically empty it had all looked, the walls white, the rooms still lacking furniture here and there. Eli had stood with his arms wrapped around him from behind, said that they'd fill it up soon enough, that soon they wouldn't have any room at all and would have to throw things out. Because they'd be together for a long, long time.

"Blaine, love, will you be alright?" Adam asked, returning upstairs for the last box.

He swallowed hard. "I feel like I'm dying," he confessed.

Adam walked over and pulled him into a hug, and for one split second with Adam's strong arms around him, he felt like somehow, somewhere, at some point, things were going to be okay. But the feeling didn't last.

"I'm sorry," Adam said as he pulled back, hands still on his shoulders. "He should've–"

"Tell him–" he interrupted; he didn't want Adam to choose sides, but he didn't want him to feel the need to condemn Eli for what he did either. "Could you tell him I love him?"

Adam squeezed his shoulder. "Of course," he said, gave him a supportive smile and turned towards the door. "Call me if there's anything you need, okay?" Adam threw over his shoulder, his accent somehow always managing something soothing. "Anything at all. 24/7."

He closed the door and he was alone again, the apartment even emptier.

Eli was gone and the only thing left of him were his dirty clothes on the bed, purposeless now because he doubted Eli would be back for one outfit. He grabbed them off the bed, strutted into the bathroom and poured them into the hamper, hesitating when a whiff of Eli's cologne caught him off guard.

Eli's smell hit him so hard his head spun, a sudden presence there in the room with him that only underlined the absence. Why did this have to happen?

He unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off, reaching for Eli's blue shirt, rife with his scent, cologne and sweat but he didn't care, it was Eli through and through. He put on the shirt, cool against his skin and buttoned it up carefully. The sleeves fell over his wrists but he bunched the fabric together and brought it to his face, breathing in deeply.

Eli was everywhere.

.

.

Blaine, it's mom again, please pick up the phone?

.

.

Bling, are you up for lunch this week?

.

.

Bro, pick up your damn phone, we're all worried about you.

.

.

The day someone checked on him at the apartment he knew exactly who it would be, a knock at the door just before noon – despite his days blurring he was still capable of reading the clock – but he didn't answer, didn't move, didn't say anything. He'd been on the couch for days, restless dreams plaguing him when he managed to fall asleep, a box of cereal and a bottle of water on the floor. He only ever got up to go to the bathroom, listened to his voicemails but didn't bother answering them, watched TV without seeing.

He hated himself for being this, a pathetic heap of boy on the couch pining after his boyfriend without taking action, but pining was simple too, nursing the pain in his chest, Eli's scent all around him.

"Blaine, it's us," Jesse's voice called. "Open the door."

He counted the seconds that went by. One, two, three...

"Blaine!" Rachel called.

Silence.

"Blaine, I swear to God I will break down this door," Jesse insisted, his voice lacking any sort of threat.

Rachel giggled. "Honey, you can't break down a door."

"No one's talked to him in four days," he heard Jesse argue. "What if he hurt himself?"

"He wouldn't do that," Rachel said, before the hallway went dead silent. Rachel mumbled something before Jesse muttered back, exchanged another few words, and then Rachel was assaulting his door with her fist.

"Blaine, open this door!" Rachel shouted. "Jesse will break it down!"

"I'm fine!" he shouted, his voice breaking from disuse. He scrambled up from the couch and walked towards the door with no intention of letting Rachel or Jesse in. The room spun around him.

He reached for the dark wood, putting his palms flat against the surface. "I'm alive. I'm eating. I want to be alone."

"Blaine, sweetie, we're worried about you," Rachel pleaded, her voice touching something inside him that did crave companionship, that needed someone around. But everything in his body needed that someone to be Eli.

"Don't–" he started, tears overtaking him again. "Please, don't worry," he said. "I just need to be on my own."

Jesse sighed, louder than was necessary, but he made no further comment. "What about the–" Jesse asked Rachel, and he assumed Jesse pointed at something.

"Leave it here," Rachel answered, followed by the dull thud of the unmentioned object on the floor. "Blaine, we made you a care package," Rachel said, her voice so close it was like she stood in the room with him. He did appreciate this, as much as the phone calls and the texts. But he wasn't up to showing everyone how much pain he was in.

"Blaine?" Rachel's voice softened. "We love you."

He put his forehead against the door, closed his eyes, basking in the simple 'I love you' of a friend; he soaked it up, tried to make it mean something now that he'd been feeling loveless for a while. But he couldn't will himself to say it back.

He listened to Rachel and Jesse as they retreated down the hallway, talking to each other, and watched them disappear out of sight through the peephole. He opened the door and grabbed his care package, before carefully closing and locking the door behind him. The package was a small basket containing shaving cream, aftershave, his favorite hair gel and some new razors. He rubbed at his chin, a full beard covering his face now; he didn't feel much like shaving but he appreciated the sentiment.

He grabbed the package, but got distracted, carelessly knocking a picture off the dresser. His heart jumped, the package tumbled to the ground alongside the picture, the glass shattering as it hit the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrounged for the pieces of the picture frame, but it was no use: the picture was ruined, glass broken and a huge tear across both his and Eli's faces. It was symbolic almost, him and Eli erased as a couple, broken, torn apart.

But that was Eli's fault. He didn't have to stand for this, he didn't have to stand by and take this, they were both in this relationship and he should get a say too. What didn't he do for Eli? He quit school and started working to help pay for his tuition; he moved across the city, away from most of his friends because Eli knew very early on which placement he'd get; he put his own dreams on hold to help Eli achieve his. And why? All because he loved Eli so much.

He wasn't without his faults, he knew that all too well, he got attached to people in a very affected and intense way, he didn't always know how to talk about his feelings until everything threatened to slip away, he could get a little eccentric at times, but surely his good qualities made up for his less attractive ones.

Maybe he needed to remind Eli of that.

He took his phone out and dialled the hospital where Eli worked; if Eli wouldn't answer his phone for him then he had to find some other way to reach out. A woman's voice sounded after a few seconds.

"Hi, I'm calling for Eli Gilligan."

"May I ask who's calling?"

He couldn't say he was Eli's boyfriend, or even use his name, Eli would never take the phone. "His brother," he lied. "It's–urgent."

He felt bad for using Eli's brother to get him on the phone, but it was a last resort and he was desperate; Eli had promised him they'd talk later, and he hadn't even cared that it was about his stuff, he just wanted to hear Eli's voice. If they talked maybe they could work things out, try again, maybe not even live together at first but recapture something that had always been good for both of them. Something stable.

He was so caught up in all his daydreaming he almost missed it, the horn on the other end of the line creaking, and then– "Aaron, what's wrong?" –Eli's voice for the first time in days. He basked in it, even if Eli wasn't addressing him, soaked up the timbre like Rachel's 'I love you', only Eli's voice affected him far more than his friend's.

"E?" he asked carefully, leaning back against the wall.

"Blaine." Eli sighed deeply. "I don't want you to call me anymore."

"I know, but I just–" stay calm, he told himself, but it didn't take, their connection was so fragile right now, their time precious and should he really waste it on talking about Eli's belongings? "I miss you, baby," he said, sliding down the wall, all his defences gone, as they so often were around Eli. "I miss you so much. Can't you come over so we can talk about this?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You just up and left without–" It wasn't fair, Eli didn't get to force this on him, he needed proximity, it made things make sense. Everything was chaos now. "Please, E, for me?" he begged. "I don't want to be alone, I need–"

All he needed was to get Eli home so he could make him see, he'd shave and dress up and be the perfect boyfriend, listen to all of Eli's worries, he'd be better than he was before.

"I'm sorry, Blaine," Eli's voice hardened, but he could hear him struggle. "I can't."

He whimpered. "Just like that?" he cried, feeling Eli slip away all over again. "It's over? Without even–" without a reason, without warning, without talking to him first. It felt like they couldn't even be friends anymore.

"Goodbye, Blaine," Eli said, before the line went dead and everything fell silent again.

He clutched his phone tightly in one hand, his head dropping back against the wall, his eyes heavy with tears. His heart hammered against his ribs and he became aware of his own breathing, his head a haze, sleep and hunger clutching around him. He didn't deserve to be treated like this. He looked around the apartment, pieces of Eli missing everywhere. It didn't feel like theirs anymore, and it certainly didn't feel like his and he had enough of this, Eli's unresponsiveness, his own sense of being adrift.

He jumped up from the ground, heart still beating up a storm, but he snatched Rachel's care package off the ground and made his way into the bathroom. He would get himself together, stop this pity party because it wasn't helping anyone, and go confront Eli face to face if he had to. He shaved in broad decisive strokes, close to the skin, slowly but surely emerging from underneath all the hair and shaving cream.

It felt strangely cathartic, shaving, showering, putting on some clean clothes, it re-established some grip he'd lost on his life. He felt like a new man, though still broken, but a little more resistant to whatever else life would choose to throw at him.

That first thing turned out to be the alarming amount of old medication in the medicine cabinet, pills well past their expiration dates because they'd never been used–even the aspirin was outdated. He took out every bottle and studied it carefully, putting the expired bottles down on the sink, lids screwed open. Maybe he got a little obsessive about cleaning sometimes, it made him feel like he was creating order even if there wasn't any, and he needed some sense after these past few days.

His stomach growled and his head spun, reminding him he hadn't eaten much of anything in days, but he needed to get this done first. After this he'd clean the bathroom and the living room and then the rest of the apartment, bring back order, disguise some of the holes punched in all the rooms.

His cellphone rang and he realized he'd left it in the living room.

His heart rate spiked: what if it was Eli? What if his phone call had made him see they needed to talk after all? He dropped everything he was doing and meant to run for the door, only his foot caught on the mat and he tripped, the ground hurtling towards him at a staggering pace.

He hit his head on something hard on the way down, his ringtone dying out in the background.

#

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