Without You
"Hey, Faggot, get back here we're not done with you!"
Kurt Hummel, self proclaimed trend setter and all around diva turned his head at the sound of the words, half expecting the derogatory term to be directed at him. However what he saw made him flatten himself back against the wall in shock, a quiet gasp drawn from his lips as a group of neanderthals shoved past him, shouting a litany of curses at the man in the lead of the barbarians.
Kurt watched the group in stunned silence and winced as the man in front tripped over the pavement and went down. With a huff, he pulled himself from the side of the dirty wall he'd flattened out against and tugged on the lapels of his jacket to straighten himself out. Silently, Kurt congratulated himself on avoiding the lifestyle those thugs were so obviously caught up in.
When he'd moved to New York two years ago, Kurt had left with a promise to keep himself out of trouble (something he'd thus far been able to do) and to call his father and step-mother at least three times a week. When Kurt had left Lima Ohio, it hadn't been a joyous occasion at all. In fact it had been the second most somber moment of his life. He had always known that the majority of the population in his town were close minded and petty yet had always tried to rise above their jibes and abuse towards his very obvious sexuality; but when the negative attention had been aimed at his family, Kurt had decided that the only way to protect those he loved was to give the people what they wanted and leave with the hope that his father could live out his remaining years in peace.
While it was true that the community had slowly started to become more accepting towards the idea of same sex relationships thanks to outreach programs in the schools and the petitioning and campaigning of his friends, there was one thing the bigoted people of Lima were not able to come to terms with.
HIV.
The stigma attached to the disease had caused an outbreak of terror through the tiny town and when his secret had been ousted, Kurt had never felt more alone or ostracized in his life. Coming home every day to find his father trying to scrub off the words like "whore" and "faggot" from their front door had worn on Kurt's already thin psyche until he'd locked himself in his room and refused to leave until Burt had agreed to let him move away.
Since the death of his wife, Burt Hummel had been overly protective of his son. To shield Kurt from an onslaught of abuse at such a young age, Burt had told everyone that Violet had died in a tragic car accident. The truth of the matter was however, that she'd died at home peacefully in her sleep – a small mercy considering all the week's she'd lain in bed and suffered deteriorating slowly in front of his eyes. It had killed Burt to lie. It had killed him ever more to keep Kurt away from her when she'd been rotting away in their bed -the very life being sucked out of her with nothing they could do to stop it - but he hadn't wanted his son to remember his mother as a frail, decrepit woman. Kurt hadn't needed to see that.
Violet Hummel had passed away age thirty six of AIDS.
She'd not contracted it from a sexual indiscretion or a sharing of needles, but rather from a patient she'd been attending to at work. Violet Hummel had been a nurse for years and during that time, she'd dealt with all kinds of people. The depressed, the overly positive, those in denial and the most common; those who were bitter about their diseases and ailments. It was just a cruel act of fate that Violet had been assigned a man that sought to make those around him as miserable as himself. He'd infected her knowingly when he'd taken the used needle from her tray and stabbed her with it, injecting her with the blood that had been drawn for him that was to be used for analysis. At the time, Violet hadn't known she was pregnant and so of course could never have guessed that not only had he ruined her life, but the life of her then unborn child – Kurt.
The now twenty year old man continued to dust himself off, brushing the dirt from his sleeves with a grumble about irresponsible thugs and turned around with every intention of continuing on his merry way until he heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. Shuddering at the sound, Kurt paused and berated himself for having a conscious before he turned and gasped at the sight that beheld him.
The man who had tripped only moments before laid on the ground motionless as the men above him taunted and kicked at his un-moving body. The realization of what was happening sickened Kurt to his stomach, but he was smart enough to know that if he got involved now there would be nothing he could do to help the injured stranger for he himself would probably end up on the ground in a bloody heap as well. So instead, he stood back and waited until the predators grew sick of their wounded prey and walked away, clapping each other on the back in what Kurt could only assume was congratulations.
Monsters.
When he was sure that they weren't going to come back, Kurt threw his satchel over one shoulder and rushed forwards, uncaring of the damage he'd do to his designer jeans as he dropped to his knees and gingerly turned over the still body on the ground. Pressing two fingers up against the man's neck, Kurt let out a sigh of relief when he felt a surprisingly strong pulse thrum under his finger tips. Whoever he was, he was alive and breathing. Shrugging his bag off, Kurt rifled through it until he found a pack of tissues and ripped one out quickly, pressing it against a split eyebrow which was the cause of the man's face being such a bloody mess.
His initial panic over, Kurt took a moment to look at the wounded stranger and was surprised to find a seemingly handsome face under the blood and bruising. Despite the already purple bruise that was forming around one eye and the swelling of his jaw, whoever this man was, was attractive in a sort of innocent way. Passed out like this, there were no worry lines on the man's face – only the beginnings of crow's feet around his eyes which Kurt knew usually came from excessive smiling. The stubble around the man's jaw not only gave him the appearance of looking older then he was but suggested that he hadn't shaved in a few days. There was a certain smell lingering on him as well that gave the impression he was homeless. Looking down, Kurt took in the man's attire and concluded that yes, he must have been homeless to look and smell this way because surely anyone who had access to a shower would use it.
Lost in his own thoughts, Kurt jumped in surprise when the body beside him stirred, a pained groan leaving the still nameless man. What the hell was he meant to do? Take him to a hospital? That seemed fairly pointless as Kurt had no idea what the man's name was and was fairly sure that said man had no money to pay for medical treatment. When a whimper sounded from the man again, Kurt quickly made up his mind and cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking.
"Hello?"
A pair of chocolate brown eyes suddenly flew open to stare up at him, the fear in them so easy to read that Kurt found that very same fear seeping into his own skin, affecting him and made his stomach knot in anxiety. No, he couldn't let himself be that empathetic right now. He had to be logical, concise and get the man out of the street before he got emotional about the situation. Attempting to make himself look as non-threatening as possible, Kurt gave the startled stranger a small smile. "It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I'm here to help." When he got no response, not even a blink, Kurt tried again, shifting awkwardly on his knees. "Can you…can you tell me your name?"
Swollen lips parted and if he hadn't have been paying such close attention; Kurt would have missed the whispered word of "Blaine" that escaped into the cold night air. Speaking of cold, the stranger...no, Blaine was shivering. It wasn't all that surprising though, considering the few measly rags he had on. "Blaine? Blaine, my name's Kurt I'm going to help you but I need to get you off the street which means I'm going to have to get you to stand up. Can you help me with that?" Satisfied with the slight nod he got in response; Kurt slipped an arm under Blaine's shoulders and lifted the man forwards with a grunt. Truth be told, Kurt had never been the strongest of beings. He was lithe, built for speed and stealth not for heavy lifting.
Blaine whined pitifully as he was sat up, a hand flying to his side as he managed to wheeze out the words "my ribs". He was weary of accepting help from a stranger (everyone in New York he'd come into contact with was selfish and cold) especially one he couldn't get his eyes to focus on but the soothing, almost angelic voice and the knowledge that he'd never be able to move by himself had made him swallow his pride and allowed whoever this was to assist him. The soft, confident cooing in his ear telling him that everything was going to be alright were lies, he was sure but just for a moment it was a relief to be able to believe it.
Kurt stood up, not caring how stupid he looked with his ass in the air as he hooked his arms under Blaine's armpits and puffed his cheeks up in exasperation as he pulled the man to his feet. Blaine might not have weighed all that much, but he was practically useless, a dead weight in Kurt's arms and Kurt only just managed to catch him as he stumbled to the left, looking like he was about to fall again. "Whoa, Blaine try to stay with me okay? I need you to walk with me" Kurt spoke while ducking under the man's arm to lend his own body as assistance. Using his toes to pick up his bag, Kurt grabbed the strap and threw the bag over his other shoulder, thanking god that he was only a few streets away from his apartment. Considering it was almost midnight, it was way too late (and far too dangerous) for Kurt to be out and about but Tuesday nights were his HIV support group night and for once the meeting had run over time.
Perhaps this was the work of some ill twisted fate that Kurt had found the wounded stranger. Inside his own head, Kurt laughed at himself. That was ridiculous. Things like that only happened in fairytales and cheesy romance movies. This was real life and judging by the strained noises coming from Blaine, this was really very painful for him. Gritting his teeth, Kurt stared ahead rather at the body practically hanging from him and took the first slow step towards his apartment. It was going to be a long walk but he was going to do this, he was going to save Blaine if it was the last thing he did.
The usual twenty minute walk to his apartment had taken Kurt forty and by the time he'd managed to drag Blaine up the few stairs to the front door of the building, he'd been almost unconscious again. Kurt had had to rope in one of his neighbors who was just getting in from work to help him lift Blaine into the elevator and then again into his apartment. They set Blaine down on the couch as gently as possible and Kurt had thanked his neighbor before scuttling into the bathroom to fetch a cloth and a bowl of warm water. Kurt was going to take the opportunity while Blaine was passed out to clean him up and hopefully avoiding causing anymore pain.
Carefully as he could, Kurt dabbed away the slowly drying blood with the wet wash cloth, falling still each time Blaine unknowing scrunched his face up in discomfort and waited until he was sure it was safe again. Three bowls of bloodied water and a ruined washcloth later, Kurt had a more clear view of Blaine's face. He'd been right, Blaine was handsome in a sort of adorable way –charming even (aside from the caterpillar like eye brows which Kurt was sure he'd be able to tweeze into a decent shape at a later date). With a soft sigh, Kurt trailed the very tips of his fingers feather-light over a forming bruise around Blaine's eyes and felt his heart go out to the boy. He'd always had people to protect him from beatings as bad as this; his friends, his family. But no one had been there to save Blaine, in fact as far as Kurt could guess, Blaine was alone.
Pushing himself up from the edge of the couch cushion, Kurt grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa before draping it over the steady breathing form of Blaine and brushed back the man's unruly curls before he even realized what he was doing. "I'm sorry" he whispered the words into the chilly silence of the room before moving to curl up in his arm chair; a place from which he could watch over his pseudo patient. However Kurt was so busy getting settled he didn't the notice chocolate brown eyes flickering open for a moment to watch him almost reverently before closing again only a few seconds later as Blaine allowed exhaustion to steal him away with a few last thoughts of appreciation towards the tall, beautiful man who had probably just saved his life.