Author's Note: So I've never written anything like this, let me know what you think. This was inspired by I am Legend, taking place in the same universe where Kurt is Will Smith's character. The plot is also largely based off the alternate ending.
~.~.~.~
Kurt gently pushed at the door of the theater and it creaked open, the space beyond swallowed up in darkness. It was midday, so it was safe to be out in the sun, but going inside the Gershwin was a whole different story.
But what was the point of staying safe anymore? It was something Kurt questioned more everyday. The solitude was eating away at his sanity, and with no human contact in six months, he had lost nearly all hope.
He'd also given up thinking about his situation too thoroughly – if he considered things too much, he always wound up thinking about what he'd lost. He knew for certain that his family was dead, and the image of them being killed would haunt him and plague his dreams until he joined them. But…Blaine…
No. Blaine had to be alive. That thought was the only one motivating Kurt to keep going, that and his stubborn Hummel mindset. But honestly, maybe it was best if he just gave in…
He stepped into the empty, dark theater, flicking on his flashlight and shining the beam around the vacant seats. If there was one place Kurt would risk his life to visit, it was the Gershwin Theater – this was the first Broadway stage he'd sung on, when he and Rachel broke into it in high school – he vaguely wondered if she was still alive, or if she'd died, or…worse.
This was also the first stage he'd officially performed on when he got a part as a chorus member in Wicked. After their closing show, Blaine had proposed to him on the stage.
They'd never gotten the chance to marry.
Kurt had been in the Gershwin alone before, but it had never been as eerie as this. There was no buzz of Times Square pressing in from just outside the door and some of the chairs were broken, the upholstery torn and scattered around the aisles. That, coupled with the knowledge that zombies could be lurking in any of the shadows his flashlight couldn't reach, could make anyone's heart race.
Kurt didn't dwell on it, striding quickly up the left aisle to the stage. The set of Wicked had been taken down and one of the heavy curtains had fallen in a crumpled heap to the floor. He went over to the switchbox offstage and flicked on the center spotlight.
It illuminated the stage with a heavy sound that echoed through the darkness, dust swimming in the bright light. Kurt went to stand in it, touching the loaded pistol in his belt that he always kept close in case of a surprise attack.
With the light shining blindingly at him, Kurt couldn't see any of the seats, just like in a show. If he concentrated, he could pretend it was a full audience, waiting with bated breath for him to perform.
A hand was suddenly pushing at his shoulder. Kurt immediately whipped around, his hand flying to the gun and flinging it out with practice, pointing it steadily at the intruder. The form quickly retreated from the bright spotlight, its face barely illuminated by the glow.
Kurt's jaw dropped, the gun loudly clattering to the stage floor.
It was Blaine. But then again it really, really wasn't.
Blaine was completely hairless, his skin grimy and horridly torn up in places, discolored and unhealthy-looking with visible blue veins close to the surface. The remains of a brightly-colored cardigan and floods hung in tatters around his thin frame, exposing him in several places. His feet were shot to hell, but he took no notice, breathing very rapidly and shallowly. Blaine's golden eyes bore into Kurt's, his brow furrowed and jaw hanging slack.
Kurt couldn't move. He didn't even attempt to retrieve the gun; there was no way in hell he could kill the man he loved, even if there was no man left in the shell of a body Blaine was now.
Kurt felt tears roll down his face – the innocent, loving, adorable Blaine was gone forever, replaced by a monster.
Kurt knew Blaine would kill him. He also knew he wouldn't even try to stop him.
He stared into Blaine's eyes – the only thing that still looked the same – waiting for the monster that had taken his fiancé to attack.
"Blaine," he whispered. The creature let out an animalistic cry, and Kurt actually sobbed because it still sounded like Blaine's voice.
"I love you," he told Blaine's eyes.
The monster lunged, grabbing Kurt by his upper arms and yanking him closer so that his mouth was pressed to the soft skin of his neck. Kurt's eyes shut tightly and he waited for the pain.
But it never came. Kurt could feel Blaine's teeth grazing his skin, but they weren't painful in the least. If Blaine were still human, Kurt would've thought it erotic.
Blaine was nuzzling him, almost violently pressing as much of his face as he could to Kurt's neck, chin, face, and shoulder. The filthy hands gripping his arms were desperately pulling them closer together. Blaine's short, panting breaths ghosted over Kurt's skin, smelling him as quiet mewling and moaning sounds escaped his lips.
Kurt remained completely frozen with shock and Blaine's touches became more frantic, willing him to respond. He now gripped Kurt's hair and waist, almost painfully trying to keep them as close as possible. If Kurt tried to get away, Blaine would never let him.
Very slowly, Kurt's arms rose from his sides, wrapping around the ruin of a man in front of him. Soon he was clinging just as tightly to Blaine, who didn't seem to mind one bit.
Within moments Kurt's face was buried in Blaine's shoulder, sobbing harder than he could ever remember. Blaine was ever-moving in his arms, his open mouth brushing over every inch of Kurt's skin that he could reach as if trying to inhale him.
What was this? The infected were supposed to be mindless, emotionless, brutal killers, yet here Blaine was, treating Kurt like he was what he'd been looking for his whole life.
I've been looking for you forever, Blaine's words from high school echoed in Kurt's mind, and he cried harder. Could Blaine's love for him really carry over to his infected self?
"You were waiting for me here, weren't you?" Kurt sniffled. Blaine moaned pleasurably as if in response, pulling back only slightly to nuzzle their faces together, their noses brushing each other's cheeks. Both of them sighed happily.
Almost as an experiment, Kurt brought his lips to Blaine's, sealing them in an open-mouthed kiss. Blaine's tongue immediately thrust past Kurt's teeth, prodding his as a feral groan vibrated through his skinny body. Their tongues wrestled gently, Kurt groping for Blaine's nonexistent curls before settling for cupping the back of his smooth head.
Everything was different, yet so similar. It was different in the respect that Blaine wasn't holding back his need, but was still being just as tender as he used to be. They were kissing and touching differently, but the passion and love was the same as it had always been.
They could've been kissing for hours for all Kurt knew, and it got to the point where his legs were shaking so much he had to sink to the stage floor. Blaine went down with him, cradling Kurt gently yet tightly in his arms as their lips remained locked.
There wasn't a trace of fear in Kurt's heart. He didn't know how it was possible – maybe Blaine had an immunity less potent than his own, or maybe the zombies weren't violent after all. Perhaps they had the capacity for compassion only around the people they truly loved.
Blaine pulled back to look at Kurt, his golden eyes sparkling with pure happiness. A smile stretched across Kurt's kiss-bruised mouth. Blaine slowly followed suit, his mouth growing into something recognizable as the huge, goofy grin Kurt loved and missed so much. Tears sprung to his eyes and he reached up to touch Blaine's face.
His physical and mental state may have been altered, but he was still the Blaine that Kurt loved. Somehow, he would find a way to cure Blaine, to find any other survivors and show them that there was hope for the infected.
Kurt would never say goodbye to him, and evidently Blaine was determined not to say goodbye to him either.