This story is very graphic and very fucked up in general, containing a horror of torture, violence, bloodshed, and a very sadistic serial killer!Blaine.
I would not be surprised if no one reads it. If you choose to read on, well, you can't say you weren't warned.
"I'll catch you later, Rachel." Kurt called out, waiving to his co-star and best friend as he signed more autographs for the fans waiting outside by the backstage door. He'd just about made it through the crowd when his blue eyes were met by a set of gorgeous honey-hazel ones. The man they belonged to was breathtakingly gorgeous and waiting patiently, despite the freezing December night, while Kurt made sure he graciously signed every program eagerly held out to him.
"Brilliant performance," the man finally spoke as Kurt capped his pen and tucked it away in his coat pocket. "You were amazing."
Kurt blushed. He still wasn't used to being gushed over, even though the world had been seeing his name in lights for several years now. "Thank you. And thanks for coming to the show." Kurt thought the man looked somewhat familiar. "Haven't I seen you out here before?"
"Possibly. My brother dragged me out in the cold for the matinee the other day," the man laughed, "but I'm glad he did. I enjoyed it."
"Well, I'm glad you liked it," Kurt said. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"My name's Blaine," the man offered, extended a gloved hand. "Blaine Anderson."
Blaine. A handsome name to go with a handsome package, Kurt decided.
"It's nice to meet you, Blaine. I'm Kurt Hummel." Kurt said, shaking the man's hand as he introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you, too." He paused for a moment as they locked eyes once more. "This might seem a little forward, but would you maybe like to go grab a drink with me, Kurt? I'm sure you have better things to do and all," Blaine rambled, "but I'd really like to get to know you and-"
"I'd love to," Kurt cut in. "There's a little dive bar around the block and up a few streets that I like to go to sometimes. It isn't much, but it's fairly private. Sound okay?"
"Sure." Blaine answered with a smile.
The two of them walked, side by side, over to the bar a few blocks away. While there, they talked about everything from 'Which is better, dogs or cats?' (they both agreed to disagree, but that kittens and puppies were equally adorable) to 'Morning person or night person?' (Blaine was a morning person. Kurt, not so much) and they even argued passionately over 'Tastier, apples or oranges?' They sat in their booth tucked away in a corner, discovering more personal things about one another, until the rum and diet Cokes Kurt had been enjoying demand release, and he excused himself to the restroom.
Kurt returned and he made it through another drink and a half before his thoughts became fuzzy and he felt dizzy and overwhelmingly tired.
"Okay. I think maybe you've had enough there, Kurt." Blaine chuckled, holding him up as he led them outside. "Let's get you a taxi."
It was the last thing Kurt remembered hearing before passing out completely.