I don't own Glee or any of its characters. Title inspired by Biffy Clyro's song 'Bubbles'.
Create Bubbles at Night – Chapter 1
As it turned out, unpacking boxes at seven in the evening was a lot harder and tiresome when you didn't have a friend or lover to help you out. And unfortunately, Kurt Hummel had just learnt that the hard way as he struggled to carry a box of preciously packed clothing into the room that the estate agent had formerly described as 'spacious and roomy'. Though, it was pretty obvious that the space had used to be a closet or a utility room and not the 'master bedroom' previously described and Kurt realized this as soon as he finally set the box down next to five similar looking ones and glanced around.
Worn wallpaper coated the walls and the floorboards creaked and wobbled beneath his feet. An empty cabinet sat in the corner and a lonely double bed was pushed up against a wall, taking up the majority of the room and leaving Kurt with little empty space to maneuver around in. There would hardly be any space for his clothes when they were all fully unpacked and any dreams of purchasing a comfy little armchair and placing it in his bedroom swiftly died.
Kurt sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. Maybe he should leave the rest of the unpacking until tomorrow. Or maybe, Kurt should have just accepted Rachel and his dad's help earlier when they had offered. The brunette pursed his lips together. Had he just swallowed his pride, he could've been unpacked and settled in a long time ago. But no, that hadn't happened. Instead, Burt was on his merry way back to Ohio and Rachel was busy playing the happy couple game with her new boyfriend Connor in their own apartment.
Kurt wandered over to the bed, sat down and then flopped backwards, squirming to get comfy on the old mattress.
If Connor hadn't popped up in Rachel's life six months ago, then Kurt wouldn't even be here. He'd still be living with Rachel in their moderately sized apartment, in the nicer part of the Chicago. He'd still be experiencing their regular film nights, idle arguments and sharing dreams and ambitions. He'd be gossiping over hot boys that he'd had the chance to make and fit costumes for and gush over every single one Rachel's successful auditions…or cry and eat ice-cream over the disastrous ones.
But the fact was that Connor had popped up in Rachel's life six months (give or take a few days) and Rachel was now contently living with him. And Kurt, having been unable to pay the rent of the apartment on his own had slightly resentfully spread his own wings and left to take up residence, on his own, in a completely new part of the city. And now he wasn't sure if the adventurous, bold new move had been a good idea or a terrible mistake.
But Connor was good for Rachel (even if Kurt had originally cursed the man for disrupting the fluid relationship between him and the Barbra to his Judy)…though his physical aspects did kind of remind Kurt of Rachel's ex, Kurt's step-brother Finn. But he hadn't bothered to mention that to his best friend who had animatedly told him all about Connor and how wonderful he was and how handsome he was and how caring he was and how he had he bought her expensive jewelry and how his dream matched Rachel's and how they were going to be the power-couple that would take over Broadway in the future. And of course Kurt would be the cheering friend on the sidelines, holding his little gay pride flag over his head and feeling even more alone and single than he had before.
Lonely, single and unwanted; the three words that all seemed to blend into one and were a constant nagging reminder at the back of his mind that Kurt Hummel was destined to be alone forever until his hair turned grey and his lotions and make-up could no longer hide the relentless onslaught of old age and the wrinkles that came with it. For Kurt had split up with his last boyfriend just over nine months ago. He'd been a sandy-haired guy with tall, lanky features and an adorable face but a horrid fashion sense with a serious and sometimes problematic addiction to soccer. Their relationship had ended after Brian had foolishly mistaken Kurt for a girl and since then Kurt had vowed to never reveal his pear hips to anyone ever again whilst allowing his deeply lonely and upset state of mind to tattoo the cliché words 'forever alone' deeper into his conscience. Yeah, since their break-up Kurt hadn't been very into the dating scene…nor had any man shown any interest in the brunette; much to Kurt's consternation.
BEEP!
Kurt's eyes snapped open and he stared, wide-eyed at the ceiling in the darkening room as he listened to the car alarm going berserk a block away. God, he breathed out heavily as his heart calmed and he sat up rigidly, rolling his shoulders back. It was way too quiet in the apartment; stupidly silent. Where was Rachel singing her classic Broadway tracks and much loved Barbra? Where was she squealing and moaning with that failed Bambi eyes look of hers whenever she burnt her food or bumped her hip against that one corner of the sofa that seemed to hate both her and Kurt? Oh yeah, that's right. She wasn't here. And Kurt Hummel was alone.
And it wasn't until now that the brunette realized how eerie and scary the silence really was.
He stood up slowly and headed out of the room (no, sorry, cupboard), dodging boxes as he went until he stood next to the front door staring back at the piles of belongings and unorganized furniture in the room that acted like a kitchen and living room at the same time. And frankly, Kurt was surprised the bathroom and bedroom hadn't been included into the dismally small space. Kurt chewed at his bottom lip as he shrugged on a coat and pulled on his white Doc Martens. He wanted to get out of the apartment. No, he needed to get out. It was too quiet, too different, too daunting. Too alien for Kurt to even consider calling the place 'home'.
He shut the door behind him (the unpacking could wait till tomorrow) and headed down the stairs having chosen to not trust the ancient lift that beckoned to him. Escaping outside, Kurt stood on the sidewalk breathing in the cool evening air before glancing once to his right, and then to his left. He then shoved his hands into the warm pockets of his coat, shrugged meekly to himself and randomly chose a direction - to the right. It hardly mattered which way he went, he was only going for a walk anyway – just to escape the new apartment that had seemingly become stuffier and stuffier the longer Kurt's thoughts lingered on its unfamiliarity.
Kurt found himself staring at the ground for much of his walk, only glancing up to cross the street and honestly, Kurt assumed that he must of appeared a very sorry sight to any passers-by; with his dark coat and a slouched position that would have had any of his friends hastily asking what was wrong and why he wasn't walking tall and proud with that usual magical glint of his in his eyes. But none of his friends were here; this neighborhood was completely foreign to him and thus he didn't need to live up to any expectations. He was free to look as moody and sad as he felt. And Kurt Hummel would be definitely lying if he claimed that he wasn't slightly disheartened at the moment, especially when he considered the prospects of his future; his future without a partner, living on his own and continuously stitching clothing for characters in semi-successful plays. And whilst Kurt wouldn't say his fantasies of appearing on Broadway had faded away and vanished (in the words of Rachel Berry, they had merely been pushed to the side temporarily), he could undoubtedly say that the last couple months had been a serious reality check.
Kurt paused. Okay, grow up and stop the self-pity party! He looked up and viewed his surroundings. Right, he had no idea where he was, though he couldn't have walked that far. No more than ten blocks. Yet the sky was still darkening, casting the area in a gloomy shadow and causing Kurt to shiver at the cold and bury his face into the collar of his coat. Better head back to his stingy little apartment.
Turning, he took a step to begin his slow amble back when a low grunt came from the alley not even two meters from where Kurt stood. He stopped, his eyebrows rose and before he knew it he was slowly etching to the opening and peering down the alleyway with a cautious look.
What he saw had his breath hitching in his throat as he mouth fell open and a completely startled look took over his features.
There was a group of guys, at least seven of them, all looking Kurt's age or slightly older, and they were all surrounding one man who was currently being held up against a grimy wall. The man had a mop of curly brown hair, had tanned skin, was short and even from the distance where Kurt was hovering uncertainly; he could tell that there was blood dripping from his nose. The guy holding him was blonde, tall and skinny though his grip on the squirming man was strong. And judging by his snarl, Kurt assumed that the brunette was in serious trouble. When he slammed the man against the wall with more force, Kurt's initial thoughts were confirmed.
They were shouting, but the wind carrying the sound made the words muffled and unclear and Kurt unconsciously stepped closer to hear their confrontation more clearly. Soon curse words and rude remarks became audible and when the blonde man yelled into the brunette's face only to have the shorter man spit at him, Kurt couldn't help the undignified squawk that left his lips as a fist collided with the guy's stomach. Thankfully the man's groan of pain masked Kurt's reaction and no attention was drawn to him. Instead, the group laughed, fist bumps were exchanged between a few guys and the blonde stranger yanked harshly at the brunette's hair. A howl filled the air and Kurt felt his heart clench.
"You fucked my brother! You fucking piece of shit!" The first full sentences became clear and Kurt paused, hidden in the shadows as he observed with wide eyes when the short man was thrown to the ground and the breath left him when the blonde and a larger guy began to kick him…and they wouldn't stop.
Kurt stood frozen, counting every single kick, every single punch and every single time one of the men leant over to spit at the hopeless man until he lost count. The man's face was bloodied and bruised beyond recognition, one eye had swollen shut, there was a horrid cut on his cheek and his bottom lip was split open.
The brunette gagged and spat out a ball of saliva and blood. "Yeah," He peered up at the livid man with one eye. "Yeah, I fucked him. And you know what? He fucking loved it." He managed a bloody smirk before a foot collided with his head and it smacked against the concrete ground. Kurt winced when the man whimpered, clutching his head with one hands while the other wrapped around his stomach in an useless attempt to protect himself.
"You fuck! I'm going to fucking kill you!" Another foot hit him in the stomach again and again and again and the whole time the blonde guy was roaring, cursing at the man lying curled up on the ground. And Kurt could no longer decide if the ground below the injured man had been that dark before, or if the blood had stained the concrete in a sick interpretation of a painting.
But damn, Kurt was positive he'd never seen that much blood before with his own two eyes, not even that time when Finn had had a horrid accident whilst playing football or when Kurt had regrettably asked Rachel to aid him in affixing two pieces of fabric together and she had ended up stapling his hand to the material instead. Sure, there had been blood. But not this much!
"I'm sure George – ah, wouldn't like that," he remained curled up, looking so broken and defeated yet somehow still managing to put up a verbal fight. "Your slut of a brother came to me, Jeff! So fuck you!" He successfully screamed out before Jeff grabbed hold of his head and slammed it over and over again against the cold, filthy ground. His bold scream swiftly turned into a shriek of agony.
"What the hell did you just say?!" He trod on the brunette's fingers, digging his heel down until a cracking sound resonated through the alley and the short man yelled out. Jeff pulled back with a gleeful grin whilst Kurt gawked at the blonde from where he stood. "You fucking New Directions just don't know your place." He scoffed and ran a blood covered hand through his blonde locks. The hair turned a darker color beneath his fingers and Jeff clenched his teeth together tightly.
Kurt shut his eyes momentarily before blinking them open slowly and taking in a shaky inhalation. This needed to stop. This had to stop! Kurt couldn't watch this anymore, seeing the brunette haired man looking so weak and pathetic on the ground whilst men stood around him, laughing and commenting on his appearance. It was horrid. And it was wrong on so many levels. How could anyway do that…Kurt sighed at the stupidity of his own internal question. Apparently these people quite easily could. They could hurt a man, just like those bullies back in high school had hurt Kurt. Yet, it had never been this bad.
"Stop it!"
Kurt still didn't know what impulse had forced him to emerge from the shadows and yell out at the men. Maybe it was because he'd seen himself the short man's position too many times to count and had always wished that someone would have just stepped forward and ended the bullying. Maybe it was because Kurt had just had enough, that he couldn't watch the abuse any longer. And maybe it was because Kurt was the only man nearby that could help and it was his duty to do so, that he'd feel guilty if he didn't.
Maybe it was a bit of all three.
But it was too late to think back on all that now, especially when a group of men were slowly turning to look at him, snarls coating their face as cold eyes swept over him. They were judging him, and a quick scan over was all it took for them to determine that Kurt wasn't a threat, he wasn't a brave policeman…more like a foolish young man who'd stuck his nose into something that didn't concern him. And Kurt wasn't very muscular either, he wasn't strong or athletic and he was pretty sure that any one of these guys could easily beat him into a grotesque shape. So, why was he getting involved again, other than some mad attempt at heroism?
Because Kurt Hummel was scared. He was petrified, practically shaking in his white boots, eyes flying from one sneering man to the other and then back again before releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when one of the men laughed almost pitifully at him and the others redirected their attention back to the bleeding man.
Jeff glanced up last, having previously been busy nudging at the brunette's shattered hand teasingly with his foot and chuckling whenever the short man's body had shaken or he'd shrieked. But now his eyes were sweeping over Kurt's slim frame, taking in the feminine posture and the eccentric clothing before he coughed out a laugh. "Didn't know the Nude Erections were recruiting twinks," He rested one foot on top of man's stomach and pressed down, hard. The brunette gasped and weak hands came up to try to remove the pressure before they twitched and fall back down to lay by his side. He wheezed heavily on the ground.
Kurt pursed his lips together. "You're hurting him. Leave him alone."
"That's the point," inquisitive eyebrows rose. Whether they were mocking his idiocy or admiring his bravery, Kurt wasn't too sure. Though he kind of suspected it was former as the group chuckled. "Look kid, get out of here. No need for you to get involved." Jeff shooed at Kurt with a half-hearted waft of his hand.
Yet Kurt stood his ground, swallowing thickly and burying his fears and worries.
"Didn't you fucking hear him? Fuck, off!" A man roared at him and Kurt's eyes snapped to his. He was one of largest of the bunch, with a broad frame and a menacing expression. "You're lucky Bas ain't here. Bas would've beaten you up already."
Another man snorted. "He would've fucked the boy first, Trent," his British accented words were met with the skin-crawling laughter of the other guys.
"You hear that, kid? Be a good boy and run away before you get an unexpected cock up your ass." A young man with black hair said.
"Look at him though, Nick," A redhead stated this time. "He looks like he wouldn't exactly mind being rough handled like that. What do you say, Cinderella?" He reached a grimy hand down and cupped himself through his jeans, squeezing firmly as he cocked an eyebrow at Kurt.
Kurt found himself grimacing and frowning in response. "What? And risk catching that horrendous mix of herpes, chlamydia and stupidity that you seem to be so proudly harvesting? No thanks." He was immensely proud that his voice hadn't shaken and that he'd been able to deliver the insult with only a moment's hesitance. No point in showing these thugs how afraid he was. Kurt clenched his hands into tight fists by his sides to stop them shaking and sweating uncontrollably.
The men's faces shifted into an odd mix of shock and an impressed expression before Trent started barking out laughter. The others soon joined in. "Kid's got guts," Kurt heard Nick mumble through his snigger and he nodded with faint approval at Kurt.
"L-leave."
It took a second for Kurt to realize where the noise had come from, but when he finally recognized it, his eyes focused on the broken man on the floor with a concerned look.
"Oh, shut up Blaine," Another kick, another groan of pitiful protest.
"I-I'll call the police if you don't stop." Kurt called out and at that point he really had no idea what he was going on in his mind. What the hell was he doing?! Threatening to call the cops?! Was he crazy?! Judging by the bemused yet entertained looks on the guys' faces, yes, yes he was. Because honestly, if the men chose to, they could have grabbed Kurt, thrown him beside Blaine and continued raining down attacks on the pair before Kurt had even managed to press the phone against his ear and hear the slightly comforting, yet still obnoxious voice of a woman on the other line. But by the time that thought entered his mind, Kurt had already whipped out his phone and was on the verge of punching in three simple numbers. Oh god.
But the men didn't do that, they didn't charge forward in a mad rage. Instead they remained where they were, talking in inaudible tones to each other with identical smirks on their faces. "I like him," he heard Trent say as the man winked at Kurt and then proceeded to smile obnoxiously at the startled response he'd drawn from Kurt: a dramatic rise of his eyebrows and his gaping mouth doing a 'fish out of water' expression. Kurt quickly tried to compose himself, blinking rapidly until his poor heart returned to a healthy rhythmical pattern instead of threatening to break out of its cage of flesh and bones.
"Come on, let's go already, Jeff. Seb's gonna be waiting," Nick muttered, casting a look to Kurt, then to Blaine and then finally to Jeff who shrugged haughtily and nodded stiffly.
"Fine," he replied before sending a final kick at Blaine's ribs. "You ever go near George again, and I'll fucking end your life. You got that, Blaine?"
"A-And what about when he crawls back to me and b-bends over again? How am I supposed to resist that?" Blaine paused to wince, eye shutting for a moment as he caught back his breath. "You gonna stop him, Jeff? Be the heroic big brother? Or do I just f-fuck him again and let you beat me up in return."
Jeff looked ready to launch himself at Blaine at that very moment and probably would have done so had Trent not wrapped a tentative hand around his bicep and pulled firmly. "Jeff, come on," He encouraged and with another tug pulled the quivering man away from the injured body.
During this, Kurt quickly and silently deleted the first digit of the emergency number from his phone. Yet he still clutched tightly onto his mobile as he waited. Waited for what? He wasn't too sure. Probably for Jeff to finally lose it and attack Blaine with a fury of fists and kicks, maybe even draw a weapon from his jacket pocket and do some permanent damage to the man. Or, Kurt was still waiting for the men to all turn round simultaneously, give him a cold stare before unleashing all their fury onto him. Though, neither scenario sounded particularly appealing.
Kurt closed his eyes and wished that this would all just go away. Just disappear. And by the time his eyes reopened, the gang was already disappearing down the alley, vanishing into the shadows stealthily until the rustle of feet moving against the ground or the gentle mumble of male voices ceased to exist.
And then Kurt was left alone with an injured man, and he didn't even hesitate as he ran to the body, arms outstretched and ready to aid Blaine in any way he could. He stared silently as Blaine rolled over onto his stomach, grunts and squawks of discomfort leaving his split lips as he pushed himself up with two shaky hands, one of which carried three bruised and swollen fingers.
"Here, let me help," Kurt hooked an arm around Blaine's shoulders and aided the man up onto two unsteady feet. Blood stained onto Kurt's coat from a shirt that had used to be some pale blue color but now was a murky shade of red and yet more blood dripped from Blaine's head injuries down onto the fabric; from the cut on his lip, from his nose that was bent at an old angle and from the deep wounds on his forehead and cheeks, caused by repeated impacts with the ground and Jeff's shoe. Kurt gave a small, sad sympathetic smile. Blaine's injuries looked more and more grotesque and fatal the closer to them he was.
He needed to go to the hospital. He needed professional treatment. "Blaine, I need to call for an ambulance, okay. Can you stand by yourself for a second?" The words took almost five seconds to click in, but when they finally did, Kurt wasn't expecting Blaine to jerk away from him with sloppy movements and fix him with a deadly look.
"What the fuck?!" He yelled suddenly. His one good eye searching Kurt's face for an unknown answer, face twisted in a horrified look that wouldn't have appeared nearly as scary if his skin wasn't colored in red liquid and blue and purple patches.
"I'm sorry?" It was all Kurt could say. What was going on? And why was Blaine staring at him like that; like he was some disgusting piece of vermin?
The shorter man backed away, supporting his weight against a nearby wall as he forced his legs to move him backwards, away from Kurt. "You're such an idiot!" He spat out and stumbled back even more, leaving a trail of red behind him on the wall. "Why did you…" his exasperated words died on his lips and Blaine shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"I'm an idiot? I just saved you!" Kurt took a brave step forward.
"You just don't get it, do you?"
"To be completely honest, no, I don't! Do you expect me to? I saw you – and I – you seemed to need help," Kurt stammered meekly before adding in an even quieter tone. "I don't know what you expected me to do. I wasn't going to just walk past and pretend nothing was happening." By the look in Blaine's eye, it was obvious that walking past like nothing had happened was exactly what Blaine would have preferred.
"Just, fuck off! I didn't need your help." Blaine protested. And when Kurt took another cautious footstep towards him, he growled. "You come any closer and I swear to god I'll hurt you." The threat was weak, considering that the man could hardly stand and every step he took was met with a pained gasp and an awkward limp as his legs protested against the movement. But nonetheless, Kurt remained in one spot, not daring to reach out and touch the man again. And it wasn't the threatening comment that was keeping him there. No. It was that look in the brunette's eye. It was the way he was gazing upon Kurt with that same look he'd given Jeff only moments ago. One filled with hate and disgust and fear and…pity? And Kurt would just about do anything to stop being on the receiving end of that glare.
Blaine tripped and began to fall, until he caught himself with a wobbly leg and a hand on the wall and righted himself once again. He heaved out heavily, breath turning into mist before Kurt's eyes as he spun round and walked away.
"Blaine!" Kurt didn't stop himself from calling out. And he didn't stop himself from reaching out a hand either, though he had no idea what had possessed him to do that. So Kurt just stared at his retreating back, arm extended into the air and with eyes that held no specific color looking so, so confused and lost.
The short man spared Kurt a final glance, spat at the ground, leaving his final bloody mark, before turning and limping away into the darkness. He left Kurt to close his slightly gaping mouth and for him to twirl round and walk with stiff legs to the opening of the alleyway. Mouth dry and questions flying around his head, Kurt began his walk home.
And as his feet moved automatically through streets, retracing steps he'd taken less than an hour ago, Kurt found his eyes trailing down to his shaking hands, to the phone still held tightly in his right hand, and the splotches of red on his left. He sighed and pursed his lips together.
What – What was going on?
Eeeh! My first ever Kurtbastian fanfic and it already looks like it's going to be a long one *sighs*. Hope it's well received! And reviews will be loved and treasured forever.
