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Kurt walked briskly to his car, his eyes focused on the cell phone in his hand. He leaned against the handle of the door and sucked in the cold, moist air that usually followed a thunderstorm, ignoring Finn's calls of "Wait up, Kurt!" behind him.
He didn't think it was necessary to wait for Finn and his shiny, freshly reinstated girlfriend. Rachel wasn't taking Kurt's attitude towards the two of them particularly well, but he didn't care; having to deal with Rachel, of all people, invading the privacy of his home was the most he was going to deal with calmly.
Trying to situate herself as one of his best friends was so not going to fly.
He didn't hear anybody coming; later, when he'd stopped panicking, he would realize that they'd been hiding behind the dumpster. A bag came over his head and somebody grabbed him from behind, pushing him roughly forward. Kurt kicked out viciously; somebody swore and then hands landed on his legs, preventing him from injuring anyone else.
When they shoved him, legs first, into the trunk of a car, he tried to sit up and then the lid of the trunk was slamming down on his head. He fell, bent awkwardly to fit, then reached up to tug the bag off his head.
Whoever had grabbed him was talking outside, "I say we push it into the river."
Kurt slammed his hand against the roof of the car, screaming, "Let me out!"
They ignored him, and another voice perked up, "I thought we were going to light it on fire."
"No," Kurt whispered to himself, banging against the lid with as much force as he could muster with the tiny space he has to pull his fists back and pretending his voice didn't crack when he started shouting again, "No! Don't do this! Let me go!"
"Shut the hell up in there, Hummel!" Kurt was too panicked to realize he knew the voice; he went mute, cupping a shaking hand over his mouth as they continued to deliberate over how to "get rid of" the car he was in.
"Please," his voice was quiet–too quiet for his kidnappers to hear–and the tears began to slide down, dripping into the crevice of his ear and blurring the sound of the voices. The terror was overwhelming; in the dark of the trunk, Kurt struggled to remember the people he loves.
"St. James," Kurt thought he'd imagined it, but then Finn's voice continued, "You guys better leave. Schuester doesn't take kindly to spies."
Jesse spat something back at Finn, sounding venomous and threatening, but Kurt didn't hear it; white hot rage filled him, washing over him in a powerful sweep. This was a prank? Meant to rattle the competition?
"Jesse, while your jealousy of our glee club's talent is flattering, it is unbecoming of you to spy on us a week before–"
"Jesse St. James!" Kurt shrieked, wiping his eyes angrily, "Let me out this instant or I will press charges."
"Kurt!" Finn sounded panicked and a little bit closer, but Jesse laughed over whatever else he said.
"Aw, come on, Finn, we're just having a little fun."
Something heavy landed on the trunk and it dented inward; Kurt shouted, surprised, and then the lock clicked and the trunk popped upward. Finn was framed by the false streetlights like some absurd hero–non-romantic hero, Kurt reminded himself–and he reached down to grab Kurt's hand and haul him up.
Kurt brushed himself off with as much dignity as he could muster, walking over to Rachel, who produced a handkerchief without a word about the tears. Finn leaned down over Jesse, who was groaning on the ground by the trunk.
Other members of Vocal Adrenaline stood around, looking understandably terrified as Finn hissed into Jesse's face, "If you ever touch anyone in our glee club again I swear I'll beat you up for real," Kurt watched as bits of spit flew into Jesse's eyes, which remained squeezed shut, "but if I so much as see you look at him wrong again, you're dead. You got that?"
Finn shook him then, and Jesse nodded. Rachel smirked next to Kurt–he suspected it was because Jesse had been reduced to whimpering tears–and reached down to hold his hand, which he let her do without protesting.
Finn turned towards them, grabbing Kurt by the elbow and pulling him away, towards their car. Neither Rachel nor Kurt said anything, just walking along beside him quietly. Finn was angrier than they'd ever seen him; his face was red with rage and he was growling with every step.
Kurt handed over the keys without meeting his eyes, sliding into the back seat with Rachel.
She leaned over to him, her voice diminutive and gentle, "Are you okay?"
Kurt merely nodded, expecting his voice to betray him.
Finn acted relatively normal through dinner and a basketball game with Burt, but he did not really calm down until later that night, when Kurt, in the darkness of their bedroom, asked if they could keep a light on, just for tonight.
Finn's breathing stopped–Kurt was a little afraid he'd given Kurt a premature heart attack, which wouldn't have been surprising considering all the greasy food Finn ate–but after a moment, the lamp on Finn's bed lit up, and Kurt smiled, even though Finn couldn't see him through the privacy partition.
"Thanks, Finn."
It was quiet for another few minutes.
"Not just for the light, in case that escaped you."
"Yeah," Finn grumbles into his pillow, "In case it escaped you, that threat doesn't just go for Jesse. If anybody... you know, gives you a hard time, just... Just let me know, and I'll deal with it."
"Finn, you don't–"
"I know. Go to sleep, Kurt. We have rehearsal late again tomorrow."