A/N: You may have already read this one, but someone asked me to write a happy ending for these two, and what can I say - I'm a sucker for a happy ending xD So after this, there will be two more chapters :)
Kurt doesn't understand how exactly he has managed to get so completely lost. He has an in-dash GPS. He has Google maps on his phone. Everything the overtly seductive female computer voices say to him makes sense, but he still can't find the highway. He drives around for over an hour, but no matter which turn he takes, which fork in the road he chooses, he ends up at the same sketchy, abandoned bridge. Every time before he crosses, driving excruciatingly slowly over the wide-set slats, he holds his breath, muttering curses in his head, scared for his life.
A light mist falls on his windshield as he approaches the bridge for what has to be the fifteenth time. He is so focused on just making it to the other side that he barely notices the figure of a man on the outer ledge of the bridge, inching across toward the center. Kurt looks once, then twice to make sure that his mind isn't playing tricks on him, and that he is indeed seeing an impeccably dressed man in a $4,000 Lora Piana cashmere trench coat walking along the outside of the bridge, hands gripping tight to the railing, eyes trained on the rocks and water far below.
Kurt pulls his car to a stop at the mouth of the bridge, stunned, waiting to see if this stranger has some ulterior motive for tip-toing precariously along the narrow edge of a 19th century railroad bridge other than the obvious, because no one commits suicide in this day and age by flinging themselves off of bridges anymore, right? Not when there are guns…and drugs…and living as an alternative.
The man walks for about a quarter of a mile, then stops and very carefully slides down, sitting on one of the jutting ties with a leg on either side, hands gripping the iron railing behind him, staring off into the distance.
Kurt gasps. He doesn't know the protocol for what to do if you find a man standing on the edge of a bridge, looking like he is preparing to jump. He considers calling 9-1-1, but his phone, which seemed to have full bars just a minute ago, is now completely out of its service area. Kurt sighs. He usually tries not to get involved in other people's problems, but he knows what hopelessness looks like, and there it is, wearing Ferragamo wing-tips, preparing to end it all.
Kurt starts his car and drives slowly across the bridge, trying not to startle the man, but as Kurt approaches, the man doesn't seem to notice…or maybe he just doesn't care. Kurt pulls his car to a stop and kills the engine. He opens the door and for the first time Kurt is hit with the full-force of the freezing night air, the wind immediately tearing through his hair and over his skin like shards of ice. He shivers uncontrollably, and wraps his wool coat tight around his shoulders, slipping gloves on his hands and winding a scarf around his neck. He looks over his shoulder at the man on the bridge, his coat unbuttoned, exposing his body to the elements; no scarf, no gloves, not much protection at all from the pervasive gusting wind and the plunging temperature.
He shuts the door and walks over to the railing, waiting in the silence to see if the man will turn around and take notice. Standing on the slats with both feet crowding the wooden railroad tie, Kurt finally sees for himself just how narrow the space the man occupies is, and a hard lump grows in his throat.
After several tense minutes, his teeth chattering painfully in his mouth, Kurt decides to speak.
"Hey," Kurt calls out, hoping to be heard over the rush of the wind. "Whatcha doing there?"
Kurt rolls his eyes at his lame question, but really? What was he supposed to say?
The man glances over his shoulder, taking a quick sidelong view of Kurt standing behind him. He grimaces, turning away.
"I'm admiring the view," the man spits back. "Now, run along, princess."
Kurt takes a slight step back at the tone of the man's voice – so harsh, so venomous - but Kurt can't bring himself to leave. A few more tense minutes later, and the man turns back around, furious this time.
"Are you lost?" he growls.
Kurt chances a step forward.
"Yes, actually," he says quickly. "I'm trying to make my way back to the interstate, but I keep ending up on this fucking bridge, so if you're not too busy, could you give me directions so I can get out of here?"
The man's green eyes almost pop out of his head when Kurt finishes speaking, his lips slowly twisting into a sardonic grin. He looks Kurt up and down from the top of his upswept hair to the toes of his thick, Doc Marten boots.
"I'm Sebastian," the man says, letting go of his grip on the railing and extending his hand towards Kurt. "Sebastian Smythe."
Kurt's heart thrums nervously at the vision of Sebastian hanging one-handed from the rickety metal railing. He takes another step forward and shakes Sebastian's hand, wondering if there might be some way he could pull the man back over, but Sebastian yanks his hand back too quickly for Kurt to put any sort of plan into action.
"I'm Kurt. Kurt Hummel."
"Well, Kurt Kurt Hummel," Sebastian says, "if you're looking for the interstate, you're about 12 miles too far north. You're going to go back the way you came, make a left at the first stop sign, and keep going."
It sounds more like a command than simply directions.
Sebastian is telling Kurt to leave.
"Thanks a bunch," Kurt says. He walks up to the railing and sits down on the concrete divider, cringing in his head at the tiny voice that screams, 'Don't you dare sit on the filthy ground! These are brand new jeans!'
The devilish smirk on Sebastian's face turns back into a scowl as Sebastian watches him settle daintily on the ground.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snarls.
Kurt meets his glare with narrowed eyes.
"I'm tired," Kurt says evenly. "I've been driving for hours and I need a break."
"Take a break somewhere else," Sebastian challenges.
"It's a free country," Kurt counters. "This isn't your bridge. I can sit here if I want."
Sebastian sighs heavily, deciding to give up and do his best at simply ignoring the annoying interloper until he realizes this is pointless and goes away.
Kurt peeks at Sebastian covertly as he looks down at his gloved hands, trying his best to not peer past the wooden slats. He thinks he might know this man, but he can't remember from where.
Seeing as Sebastian is determined not to talk, Kurt decides to take a chance and strike up a conversation.
"I feel like I've seen you before," Kurt says.
"Maybe," Sebastian replies vaguely.
Kurt leans his head to the side against the railing as far as he can, craning to see Sebastian's face fully, and Sebastian turns away, but at the last minute Kurt manages to place his face.
"I know you!" Kurt crows. "I just saw your picture in the paper! You're that steel magnate's son, the one he…oh…"
Kurt stops his sentence short, clamping his teeth down on his tongue unless his addled brain thinks of anything else stupid to say.
"Yup, that's me!" Sebastian says bitterly.
Kurt holds his breath, wondering if Sebastian will just say 'Fuck it!' and throw himself overboard.
He looks like he's seriously considering it.
Instead, he relaxes back against railing, and Kurt finds it easier to breathe again.
"You know, I always knew my father was a bastard," Sebastian says, "but I never thought for one second that he would disown me for being gay."
Kurt moves in closer, relieved to hear Sebastian opening up but also scared that this is it; Sebastian telling his side of the story before he ends his life.
"So, that's why you're here?" Kurt asks softly, not wanting to open wounds, but needing to keep Sebastian talking as long as possible, to try and find a way to get him off the ledge.
"No," Sebastian says with another bitter laugh. "No. I don't think he ever really cared too much about me, so not being his son anymore doesn't really change anything."
"Then…what is it?" Kurt pries gently. "Is it the money?"
Kurt remembers reading the article when he saw it on the front page of the paper. Even if it wasn't for the salacious and dramatic headline, how could he miss the picture – a blurry but still nearly X-rated picture – of a half-naked Sebastian climbing all over his reported lover while sun bathing on a nude beach in the south of France. Dillon Smythe, Sebastian's father, had not only disowned his son, but left him with nothing, pulling (among other things) a trust fund estimated at almost two million dollars and several multimillion dollar properties.
Sebastian doesn't seem to hear, but before Kurt can move on to a different question, Sebastian takes a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips. Kurt can see the cloud his breath creates in the frigid air.
"I don't really need the money," he starts. "I mean, it was nice, but I have a good job. I actually make quite a lot." Sebastian winks at Kurt over his shoulder, and Kurt can't help feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. "I have a penthouse my grandparents left me, and try as he might, my dad can't legally take it away from me…"
Kurt furrows his brow, confused beyond belief.
"So, if you don't need the trust fund, why are you up here?"
Sebastian's next statement is spoken so softly that Kurt almost doesn't hear him over the constantly swirling wind.
"Because he left."
Kurt racks his brain, trying to remember who he might be.
"He…who? The man in the picture?"
Sebastian nods sadly.
"Yeah." Sebastian's hand tightens around the metal bar he's holding on to. "Paolo. He was with me since college. We've been together forever. I thought he loved me. Turns out, that wasn't entirely the case."
"But…I don't get it," Kurt says, shaking his head. "You still have money, a place to live…that's more than most people have."
"Yeah, well, I guess it isn't enough. My money isn't enough. I'm not enough."
Kurt feels himself trembling, but he doesn't know if it's from anger or the overwhelming, biting cold. He imagines it's the former since he stopped feeling the cold a long time ago.
"Then he's not worth it," Kurt says. "He's a gold-digging leech that's not worth your time."
Sebastian doesn't respond, doesn't turn to acknowledge him, and that makes Kurt even angrier.
"And, to tell you the truth, Sebastian…you're being an ass!"
That gets Sebastian's attention.
"Excuse me, princess?" Sebastian asks with a dangerous look in his eyes.
"You heard me. You're going to throw it all away for some…some asswipe? You have everything! You're rich…ish, you probably have had the benefit of some kind of overpriced education, you're gorgeous…"
Sebastian's face immediately melts, and a beautiful, albeit cocky, grin lights up his face.
"You think I'm gorgeous?"
Kurt's eyes widen, and his face, thankfully obscured by the dark night, grows even hotter.
"Not now," Kurt sputters. He turns away to look out at the horizon, feeling Sebastian's eyes watch him, that megawatt smile still glowing in his direction, "you're still an ass."
Sebastian chuckles.
"You know, for a Good Samaritan, you kind of suck at this."
Kurt suddenly feels bold, pulling out all the stops in an effort to get Sebastian off the ledge before it's too late and he falls into the water purely by accident.
"Between you and me," Kurt says, leaning closer to Sebastian's hand where it is latched to the railing, letting his hot breath ghost over the visibly frozen skin, "I'm not all that good."
Sebastian swallows hard, his smile dipping only slightly when his eyes start to simmer with a new and exciting heat.
Sebastian stares at Kurt, can't seem to stop staring, but some other emotion passes over his face, cooling the heat in his eyes, and for a reason Kurt can't explain, he turns away.
He suspects that Sebastian figured out his ploy.
Kurt's heart sinks. It would have been nice if it had worked. Kurt knows it's a long shot, but he's starting to like Sebastian. Outside of not wanting to see another human being of the Earth planet kill themselves, it would be nice if a guy like Sebastian – intelligent, kind, handsome, caring – would give Kurt a chance.
Kurt knows what it's like to want to jump off a ledge.
He spent most of his high school years talking himself down from them.
"So, what are you doing out here this late at night?" Sebastian asks. "Or do you just make it a habit of trolling bridges, looking for potential lost souls to help?"
"I usually avoid bridges when I can," Kurt reveals without a second thought, wrapping his own gloved hand around the railing on the bar above Sebastian's.
"Why?" Sebastian scoffs. "Afraid of heights?"
Kurt waits for the echo of the taunt to fade from his ears before he answers.
"My mom died on a bridge."
Sebastian's head snaps around to look at Kurt, assessing his face shrewdly to see if he's lying, to see if this is another trick. Kurt's eyes stay glued to the sky, and Sebastian sighs.
Maybe he is an ass.
"I…I'm s-sorry, man," Sebastian says for lack of anything more poignant or philosophical to say. His teeth clatter when he speaks, his whole face numb.
"That's alright," Kurt replies with a shrug. "It was a long time ago. You didn't know."
Kurt feels a hand close around his. When he looks, Sebastian's stiff fingers are covering Kurt's gloved hand in an effort to be comforting. Kurt can feel his gelid fingers, the nails already turning blue, the waxy pallor to his skin, and Kurt knows he's running out of time. In another half hour, it won't matter if Sebastian jumps or not. He's going to end up with hypothermia, and Kurt isn't sure he can climb out on the ledge to get to him.
"To tell you the truth, I'm kind of a lost soul myself," Kurt confesses. "I'm sort of running away from my life."
"R-really?"
"Yeah," Kurt says, wrapping his free hand over Sebastian's frozen one. "Someone I love…someone I thought I'd love forever…broke my heart." Kurt rubs gently over Sebastian's skin, encouraged when he doesn't pull away and lets Kurt continue to warm his skin.
"Wh-what did he do?" Sebastian asks, his voice wobbly, his breath shuddering. Kurt considers trying to walk over to where Sebastian's back leans against the railing to wrap his scarf around his neck, but he's afraid to let go of his hand just in time to watch him fall.
"He cheated on me," Kurt says, creeping his hands up Sebastian's arms as far as he can reach to rub at the nearly paralyzed limb. "He thought I was going to leave him, so he slept with someone else. Someone he met on Facebook."
Sebastian rolls his head on his shoulders and squints to focus on Kurt, and Kurt can see that Sebastian's lips are chapped and blue.
"D-d-d-douche," Sebastian stutters. "Y-you d-don't n-need him. Y-you s-s-seem like a gr-great g-guy."
Kurt smiles sheepishly, concocting another plan.
"Do you really think so?" Kurt asks, removing one hand from Sebastian's arm to grab hold of his hand.
Sebastian tries to nod, but his whole upper body quakes, and Kurt reacts quickly, squeezing his hand tight, just in case falls.
"I-I d-d-do," Sebastian says. "I qu-question y-your h-h-hairdo a-and y-y-your t-t-taste in cl-clothes…"
Kurt frowns, trying hard to keep his bitch side at bay.
"…b-but I th-think you-re gr-gr-great."
"Then, Sebastian," Kurt says, quiet but firm. "Come with me."
Sebastian stares, his body trembles so violently now that Kurt can't tell if he's shaking his head no or nodding yes, but he doesn't speak. His mouth is locked tight, breath coming in ragged puffs through his nose.
"I don't care about your money. I don't care if your dad disowned you. If you and I met at a bar or a coffee shop or anywhere in the world, I would like you because you seem like an amazing guy, and I want to get to know you. I do, Sebastian. So, will you give me that chance?"
Sebastian still doesn't speak, but Kurt can see his legs start to work, knees trying to bend. He hears the railing rattle as Sebastian pulls at it weakly. Kurt springs into action, leaping over to where most of Sebastian's body rests against the railing, panicking for a second when he is forced to let go in order to get a better grip. He pulls with all his might, and for several nerve-wracking and back-breaking minutes supports Sebastian's weight as he pulls himself to his feet, the struggle and the strain seeming to loosen stiff muscles enough for Sebastian to get upright. But now, standing straight, with his hips leaning against the railing, he stops again, eyes fixed on the rocks beneath him.
"Wh-what's the matter?" Kurt says, manic now that the end is so near.
"I…I'm afraid of heights."
"Afraid of heights?" Kurt cries with the shadow of a laugh. "Weren't you just making fun of me for being afraid of heights?"
"Kurt…"
"I mean, you're on a bridge…"
"Kurt…"
"What kind of idiot throws themselves off a bridge if they're afraid of heights?"
"The kind that's not thinking, alright?" Sebastian yells, cutting Kurt short. "I mean, that's why I was up here, right? But, now I'm scared, Kurt. So, please…I just want to come with you, but…"
Sebastian's vulnerability tugs on Kurt's heart like a thread. He didn't mean to be so cruel, but all the pent up anxiety let itself loose without Kurt's ability to stop it. He has to do something, but he's more than feeling the effects of too much time sitting in one spot in the cold, too, and he's running out of strength. Sebastian's hands are locked to the railing now, and with his mind focusing on not falling, Kurt doesn't think he'll let go long enough for Kurt to help him across.
He has a thought, a fleeting thought that turns into a solution. Kurt cups a hand beneath Sebastian's chin and pulls the attention of his terror-stricken green eyes up to Kurt's more confident blue ones. He leans in close, brushing their noses together, Sebastian's skin startlingly frigid, and kisses him. Kurt can hear Sebastian gasp when their mouths connect. Sebastian's lips are cold, quivering, but Kurt deepens the kiss, trying his hardest to pass along whatever warmth he has left, whatever calm he possesses. Soon, Sebastian's lips are warmer, more pliant against his.
Kurt sucks Sebastian's top lip into his mouth, and Sebastian whines in the back of his throat. Kurt reaches out a hand and grabs Sebastian's arm, leading him around, tugging at him gently and offering him support as he climbs over the rail, chasing Kurt's lips with his mouth, eager to take control. When he's safe over the railing, Sebastian wraps his arms around Kurt's body and Kurt, trying to keep focus with the intensity of Sebastian's mouth claiming his, unwinds his scarf carefully and wraps it around Sebastian's neck. Sebastian leans Kurt back, his tongue slipping smoothly into Kurt's mouth to caress his, and Kurt's knees go weak, fingers struggling to do up the buttons of Sebastian's coat.
Sebastian feels Kurt helping him, feels himself getting warmer as his coat is closed up and a scarf placed around his neck.
"Thank you," he whispers into Kurt's mouth, not ready to break away from this paragon in his arms, who came to his rescue when he thought he had no one.
"Why don't you thank me later when we get off of this bridge?" Kurt suggests, and if it sounds a little like an invitation, then that might have been intentional.
"You really want me to come with you?" Sebastian asks, unsure. "It's not an act?"
Kurt looks up into Sebastian's eyes, clear and impossibly green, shining from the cold in the air and the heat of their kiss.
"I want you to come with me," Kurt says.
Sebastian smiles, and Kurt pulls away. Sebastian takes Kurt's hand and lets himself be lead over to Kurt's car.
"You know," Sebastian says, feeling more himself now than he has in weeks, "I'm kind of clingy. You saved my life. I might not want to let you go."
Kurt unlocks the car door and gives Sebastian a shove to get him inside.
Sebastian sits obediently and locks the door, waiting patiently for Kurt to climb in on the driver's side.
"Didn't someone once say that relationships that start because of crisis situations are doomed to failure?"
"Yup," Sebastian confirms as Kurt buckles up his seat belt and starts the car. "That's why for us, no relationship. We're just going to fuck."
Kurt laughs as he drives quickly off the bridge, following Sebastian's directions to the interstate, not quite so lost anymore.