InsaneJournal

Who: Kurt, Jean-Paul and Bobby
What: heading off a breakdown
Where: the roof
When: Thursday evening
Warnings: no clue as yet
Status: Incomplete

He knew he was over-reacting. Drastically. He knew he couldn't expect people to simply stop mentioning him. Worse, he knew he shouldn't want them to. Knowing didn't change the reaction, though, and as soon as Lorna had mentioned him, mentioned Scott, Kurt had simply...shut down. It was the only way he seemed to be able to cope with it at all. He'd turned off his computer, set his 'phone' to only chime if he received an emergency signal, found a very large bottle of very cheap vodka at the top of his closet and taken it, and a handful of slightly stale suckers, to the questionable safety and comfort of the roof. At night. In the middle of winter.

It was a clear, crisp night, no clouds to blot out the stars and no lights but the few from the house below him to compete with their light. It would have been warmer with clouds and snow, of course, but he preferred it this way, and he tucked himself into the shelter of a chimney, a relatively light jacket and his own built in fur coat more than sufficient when combined with the warmth of the alcohol, which he was drinking directly from the bottle. Scott had never understood his love for the roof, had never come up here with him or after him. He wasn't sure if that made it easier or harder, really, it was simply where he came when he needed to be alone and not have to worry about the face he showed the world.

He took a large swig from the bottle, grimacing slightly at the burn as well as the way it mingled with the rootbeer flavored sucker in his mouth, and laid back on frigid tile of the roof, gazing up at the stars and remembering. Remembering just how very badly he'd failed.