Their evening started innocuously enough: after all, it was Christmas time in New York. Snow had begun falling gently and sticking to the sidewalk; it wasn't a lot, but it was falling steadily enough to promise a white Christmas in the morning. What started out as a simple little dinner date quickly ended with Kurt standing shell-shocked on the sidewalk, blood staining the front of his brand-new pea coat and beginning to congeal under his fingernails.
The Hummel-Hudson family trip to New York City had been in the works for a while now. With Kurt's insane work schedule, he really couldn't take much more than a long weekend to go back to Ohio. Carole had been the one to come up with the plan: if Kurt couldn't come home, why couldn't they have Christmas in New York? While incredibly excited to have his family come visit him, there was a part of him that was understandably devastated that Blaine wouldn't be able to come with them; there was some terrible combination of a sick aunt and impossible to sway parents that kept him grounded in Ohio.
So when Kurt made the trip out to the airport to escort Burt, Carole, and Finn to their hotel, finding that Blaine had come along with them was a surprise. Breaking from the rest of the family, Blaine immediately launched himself into his boyfriend's arms in the middle of baggage claim.
"What about your parents?" Kurt asked, arms still tight around Blaine's waist like he's afraid Blaine will disappear if he lets go. He felt more than heard Blaine laugh into the crook of his neck in amusement.
"Do you really think I'd miss spending the holidays with you?" he smiled coyly. And just like that their lips were locked, their worlds condensing down to just the two of them until Burt clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. Red faced, Kurt greeted his whole family.
The family spent the next few days playing tourist. Burt and Carole, both of whom had never been the city before, wanted to go everywhere and do everything. Kurt, of course, was happy to oblige. Finn was immediately absconded by Rachel for their own city adventures.
And of course having Blaine along made everything much more fantastic; plus, it was significantly better than Blaine's last trip to the city in early October when the long distance was just starting to wear them down. No matter how often they had talked about theoretically doing a long distance relationship, when they were finally separated, it was almost too much. But that was months ago; they're past that particular road bump and back on track.
Blaine stated that it was a Christmas miracle (Kurt rolled his eyes and remind Blaine neither of them actually believed in that), but they were able to wrangle an evening to themselves: dinner, a nice walk around the neighborhood, and then a quiet evening together at Kurt's apartment ("No, Blaine, we are not calling it 'an adult sleepover'," Kurt admonished. It didn't matter that their post-date activities were implied, Kurt did not want to admit such things to his family.)
Kurt found a little, candle-lit Italian place a few weeks ago in the East Village that made the most fantastic chicken parm ever, so of course Blaine needed to try it. Stomachs pleasantly full, they walked arm-in-arm around the neighborhood in absolutely no rush. Kurt could never get over the simple thrill of this: no one gave them a second glance as they walked down the sidewalk; they were just any other couple enjoying the evening together.
Flurries began drifting to the ground, so most people began ducking into shops and restaurants. Kurt and Blaine, having lived through much harsher snowfalls back in Ohio, continued their lazy stroll around the park. With night settling in, the streets cleared out, lit only by the occasional streetlamp.
A rustling by the gated entry way drew Kurt's attention. It wasn't particularly uncommon for the occasional homeless person to hang around the park this late at night, but he gave Blaine's arm a subtle tug and quickened their pace just to be on the safe side. "Keep walking," Kurt muttered. He wasn't particularly worried: Kurt had dealt with his fair share of uncouth New Yorkers. But right as they were about to pass the entry, a figure stepped out to block their path.
This man wasn't homeless- at least he didn't give off any off the usual signs that Kurt had come to associate with them. He was stocky, but taller than Kurt, a hoodie drawn up and over his scruffy face. "Wallets." The man spoke with confidence; there would be no messing around with him, but there was an unmistakable twitch in his outstretched hand.
And like every guidebook instructed him to do, Kurt immediately pulled out his wallet and handed it over. He gives a passing thought to the fact that the leather wallet had been Blaine's gift to him the first Christmas they knew each other. Next he thinks about all the cards he'll have to cancel when he gets back to his apartment; he'll have to get a new license too. Nudging Blaine's side, his boyfriend pulls out his and hands it over to the man.
"Phones too," the man states, slipping their wallets into a pocket of his beaten up jacket. Kurt groans, but complies. Now he'll have to ask his Dad to help him get a new phone in the morning. Great. "Hurry up," the man states to Blaine. Blaine who is starting to shake with nerves. Blaine who is digging his hands into all of his pockets, searching.
"I-I must have left it somewhere," Blaine stutters, just a step away from loosing his composure and completely panicking.
"Gimme your fucking phone," snaps the man, one of his twitching hands diving back for something in his jacket.
Kurt doesn't know what to do; it's not like he can start feeling around Blaine's pockets or anything and he can't try and ask the man for more time or to stop bearing down on them. "I know I had it before at the restaurant!" Blaine's freaking out. "I don't know where it is, it don't-" he's cut off completely when the man punches his fist high into Blaine's side. Turning on his heel, the man runs off, but not before Kurt sees a glint of metal in his hand. A box cutter.
Blaine's hands fly to his side; he pitches forward and it's all Kurt can do to catch him and lower him to the ground. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," chants Kurt. It isn't until he hears that Blaine is wheezing until he realizes that it's not okay. With Blaine on the ground, Kurt starts clutching at his boyfriend's ribcage. Blood seeps hotly between his numb fingers and Kurt thinks he can feel warm bursts of air expelling from the hole in his side. Holy shit, Blaine's been stabbed. Without thinking, Kurt screams. "Help!" He doesn't have a cell phone, and he can't just leave Blaine here to run for someone. "Help!"
Blaine's eyes are wide with terror; his mouth is moving, but no words are coming out; a dribble of blood makes it's down his chin. Blaine grabs at the front of Kurt's coat. Kurt can only keep screaming and pressing as hard as he can on Blaine's side.