Warnings: character death/murder, violence, homophobic language, bullying, language, and some gore. I think that covers everything. If not, I apologize. Let me know if I missed something I need to warn for.
Word Count: 4300ish
Summary: Kurt is dead. Then he meets Blaine, who helps him.
Author's Note: AU future fic. Kurt never went to Dalton. He never met Blaine.
Also, I don't own Glee. I wish I did.
I hated this place when I was alive.
I hated the shiny red lockers that bruised my back and the varnished wooden benches that gave me splinters and the musty smell of body odor that hung in the air.
Now though, the lockers are blackened and buried in debris. The wood of the benches had long ago turned to ash. The only smell in the air is that of smoke that even years later still lingers.
What I hated the most is that I couldn't leave. And that I was alone.
I spent every day walking through the remains of my high school. I watched the world from the broken windows. Sometimes I would sing to myself, but mostly I was quiet. What reason did I have to sing anymore? It's not like anyone would hear me anyway.
Until He came.
He wasn't the first one. Sometimes people would come by to see what had happened here. Not many though, and none ever came inside.
It was dark outside when he arrived. Night. He came alone, carrying only a backpack and a flashlight. I watched him from behind, crouched in a dark corner as he kicked debris and cleared a spot on the floor to sit. He didn't see me.
He opened his bag and pulled out a video camera and an audio recorder. He had something else with him, but I didn't know what it was. It looked like a pedal for an electric guitar.
I had to admit, he was fairly good looking. A little short, and his hair had way too much gel in it, but I was intrigued.
I watched him set the camera up on a small tripod facing him and turn it on. Then he picked up the recorder, hit a button on the side, and spoke.
"It's ten o'clock and I'm at the old McKinley High School campus. In one of the locker rooms. This is the room the fire started in. First investigation. Starting interview now."
Interview? He was by himself. Who was he planning on talking to?
"Hello?" my visitor said. "Is there anyone here with me?" He was quiet for a minute, and so was I.
"I've heard things about this place. People hear noises when they walk by here late at night sometimes. Footsteps and crying. Singing sometimes. Is there someone here trying to communicate?" he asked, looking around.
"If there is someone here, I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk. If you want to talk to me you can come closer." He looked down at his guitar pedal.
"If you speak, I might not hear you, but if you speak into my recorder I might be able to hear you that way." He was quiet again, looking around.
I couldn't help but chuckle at that. What he was doing seemed ridiculous.
He must have heard me though, because he sat up straight. "Is someone here?" he asked. He didn't seem scared. Just curious.
I slowly took a step closer to him. I was as quiet as I could be. I made no sound. I took another step, and a light on the guitar pedal lit up. I stopped.
"If someone is here, you don't have to be afraid of me. You can move closer." He said, watching the light blink.
I took another step towards him. Two lights this time. I stepped back and the lights went out. I didn't know what that thing was. It was obviously not a guitar pedal. It seemed to know when I got closer.
"How about this..." he started. "When you come closer, the lights will light up. We can communicate that way. If that is okay with you, come light up the lights."
"I'd rather just speak, if it's all the same to you." I said. "I never get to talk to people anymore."
He jumped and spun around, looking right at me.
"Hello." he said. "I'm Blaine."
"Kurt." I answered. "You can see me?"
"Clear as day." Blaine smiled. He was gorgeous. "What happened here?"
I sighed. "It's a long story."
"I've got all night. Come sit with me."
I took a deep breath that I didn't really need, sat down, and began.
"It was Friday afternoon. I had gone into the locker room to pick up my gym bag. My uniform needed to be washed. I hated gym class, but it was required for senior year. I didn't like wearing dirty clothes. I didn't hear them come in. I thought everyone had gone home. I had been waiting for practice to be done and everyone to leave. I had my earbuds in, listening to the song I was going to be singing for glee club on Monday. I was so happy to be getting a solo for once. I loved to sing." Blaine just smiled and nodded for me to continue.
"Anyway, the jocks cornered me. There were a bunch of them. I didn't even know half of their names. Someone ripped my ipod away from me, but I didn't see who it was. They had hassled me plenty of times before, throwing me in dumpsters and against lockers in the hall and throwing slushies in my face, but this was different." I sighed again. I had never been able to tell anyone what happened. I was finally getting my chance, and I didn't want to screw it up.
"I tried to get away, but they were too big and too strong and there were too many of them. They called me a 'filthy faggot' and 'queer' and 'fairy' and 'ladyboy' and said I was diseased. That I was a 'pervert' and 'an abomination' and that if I liked sucking dick so much I should try sucking the business end of a shotgun. One of them even volunteered his own father's if I wanted it. He grabbed a dirty sock off of the bench and shoved it in my mouth when I started screaming. I was gagging, choking on rancid sweat and the taste of feet and snot and tears. If I wasn't so scared, I would have thrown up." I looked up at Blaine. He had tears in his eyes and was no longer smiling.
"He stuffed me into one of the lockers. When I fought him, he grabbed my arm and slammed it into the edge of the open locker. I could feel the bone snap. I think I heard it snap too, but that might have just been in my head. It was excruciating."
"I didn't have my cell phone to call anyone; it was sitting on my desk in my room still plugged in. School was out. Everyone else had gone home. I got the sock out of my mouth and screamed for help, but no one heard. The jocks laughed at me, slapping each other hi-fives and they just left me there."
Blaine had tears rolling down his face, but he didn't stop me.
"I smelled smoke a few minutes later. One of the jocks had tossed his cigarette into the trash can, and some of the paper towels inside caught fire. I could see it through the slits in the door. I could hear the flames crackling. I could smell the chemicals in the plastic as it melted and I couldn't breathe through the smoke. I had never been so scared before. I tried to get the locker open but it wouldn't budge. My arm was broken and useless and hurting so much, and they had locked me in with the padlock. The smoke got so thick and everything went dark. Eventually, I just blacked out."
"I remember waking up, hearing the firemen moving around and saying something about arson. I banged on the locker and yelled for them to let me out, but they never even looked my way. They were working and I could hear them talking about someone. The bullied gay kid that snapped and set the school on fire in revenge and then ran away from home without leaving a note or anything. The kid the cops were still looking for. It caught my attention. I thought I was the only 'out' person at my school. I kept listening. One of the firemen asked what the kid's name was."
"Kurt Hummel." Blaine whispered. "I remember my mom talking about it. It was on the news for several days."
I nodded and continued. "I didn't know what they were talking about. I didn't set the school on fire. I loved my family, and I sure as hell wouldn't run away from home. I could never have done that to my dad. I remember what it was like for him when my mom died. I never wanted him to suffer like that because of something I did. They had everything wrong."
"I listened to them work. I kept calling out to them and banging on the locker door. They didn't so much as flinch. I watched them for hours. I listened to them talking, trying to piece everything together."
"A whole day went by before I realized something was really wrong. I had breathed in so much smoke, but I wasn't coughing. My throat wasn't dry, and I didn't feel thirsty. Or hungry, even though by then, it had been almost two days since I had eaten anything. I had been trapped in that locker for a day and a half and I never felt the need to use the bathroom. My body was covered in soot, but I didn't feel it on my skin. I wasn't tired. My arm didn't hurt. I couldn't feel anything. At all."
"I didn't remember dying, but I knew then that I had. I just remember not breathing and going to sleep. No more pain. No white light. None of that 'life flashing before my eyes' stuff that you always see in the movies."
"I don't know how I got out of the locker. One minute I was still inside, the next I'm out here. And it's lonely. I never believed in an afterlife. I still don't think I believe in God. My friends gave me a rash of shit for that after my dad had a heart attack and was in a coma. How could a God that is supposed to be so good, do something like take a mother away from her husband and little boy? How could a loving God make me gay, and then put so much hatred in the world towards me for it? Almost take away my dad? My rock? I don't understand any of it."
"I don't get that either." Blaine whispered. He looked so sad. I wanted to hug him, but didn't know if I could. I didn't want to scare him. Or worse, not be able to feel him.
"I keep wondering if my mom went through all of it, all of this loneliness and feeling trapped and forgotten when she died. If she stick around for awhile to make sure my dad and I were okay. Did she move on to something better? Is that why she isn't here now? Does she even know I'm dead, wherever she is? Am I here because everyone thinks I did something terrible? They don't even know I'm dead. They must think I didn't love them enough to stay. They must hate me so much by now."
"I don't believe that." Blaine said. "I think they miss you."
"I need you to do something for me."
"Anything." he said.
"Tell my dad? His name is Burt Hummel. He owned the garage a few miles up the road. My body is still in that locker. They didn't open any of them after the fire. They never even went close to them. I can't stand my family thinking I'm bad, and not knowing what happened. Please? I think I might be able to move on once they know. I'm so tired of being alone all the time. I just want to go be with my mom. I want my family to stop suffering. Please?" I begged. I didn't know if I could handle it if he said 'no'.
"What should I say to him if he doesn't believe me?"
"Then find my brother. Finn Hudson. Tell him... tell him I miss our 'lady chats' and the warm milk. Tell him I'm sorry that I didn't tell him about my dad having his heart attack. That he had to hear it from his mom over the phone. That I forgive him for what he said to me when I redecorated our basement. And if he still doesn't believe you, tell him that I was kidding about feeding the wedding doves glitter. I don't think he would have forgotten about that." I didn't know what else to say. "Tell him I couldn't have asked for a better brother."
"Okay." Blaine agreed before failing to stifle a yawn. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. It's late. Do you sleep?"
"No. I've tried." I missed sleeping. Curled up in my bed and snuggled up nice and warm and safe. "If you want to leave, you can." I hoped he would stay. I didn't want to be alone again.
"I brought a sleeping bag. Is that okay? I don't want to impose." He seemed very unsure. Like he didn't want to wear out his welcome.
"Be my guest. I like having you here." I couldn't help but smile.
"Will you stay with me? Lay down with me?" he asked as he unrolled his bed and got comfortable on it.
I laid down on the floor next to him and he went to sleep. I watched him sleep peacefully all night, and when he left the next morning, I missed him.
The next morning, Blaine found himself walking in to Hummel's Tire and Lube, going over in his head all of the things Kurt had told him the night before.
"Can I help you?" a really tall man asked him, wiping his hands on a rag.
Blaine cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Burt Hummel."
"He's not here right now. But I might be useful. What do you need?" the man asked.
"Oh. Well, do you know where I can find Finn Hudson?" he asked.
"Right in front of you. I'm Finn."
"Yeah. Okay. I'm Blaine. I think you and I should talk. About...Kurt." Blaine stammered out.
"What about Kurt?" Finn asked, wary of this Blaine person. He wouldn't be the first freak to seek him out, fishing for stories about his brother to satisfy some morbid fetish.
"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"
Finn didn't say anything. He led Blaine to the main office and closed the door.
"If you are here just to hear about how everyone tormented him until he couldn't take it, get the hell out now."
"I'm not here for that. I don't know how to say this, because I know how crazy it is going to sound. Kurt didn't run away." Blaine said.
"What are you talking about?"
"Kurt didn't start the fire. Someone else did. The people that bullied him did." Blaine took a deep breath. "I saw him."
"You saw my brother?" Finn asked, eyes wide. "When? Where? Is he okay?"
"You probably won't believe me. But the jocks, the ones that were bullying him? They hurt him. Bad. The day of the fire, they cornered him in the locker room. They broke his arm and shoved him in the locker and locked him inside."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Finn asked, obviously pissed off now.
"He said you wouldn't believe me. He told me to tell you that he misses the 'lady-chats' you two had at night, and the warm milk. That he forgives you for what you said to him after he redecorated the basement. And he said that he was just joking about feeding the wedding doves glitter. He said you would know what that meant, because I don't." Blaine said. He was expecting Finn to punch him any minute.
"I believe you. Please. Tell me where my brother is." Finn pleaded.
"I think he's still stuck in that locker." Blaine said quietly.
"Why would you say something like that? Do you have any idea what my family has gone through in the past six years because of this? And you just come in here, saying this shit like it's some big fucking joke..." Finn was upset.
"He told me. He also told me he left his cell phone at home that day. Plugged in and sitting on his desk in his bedroom."
"No one knew that. I took his phone. Why do you know that?" Finn asked. Not even their parents knew that.
Finn had come home right after school that day. He had gotten a text from Puck saying that the school was burning a bit later. He had gone to Kurt's room to tell him and found it empty. Kurt still hadn't come home, and he was over an hour late. Finn had grabbed his brother's cell phone and took it with him, flipping through it and calling anyone in the contacts list that might know where Kurt was. He drove for hours, making calls and sending texts, scanning the streets until the car was running on fumes and Kurt's cell phone battery was almost dead.
"Will you come to the school tonight with me? The lockers are hard to get to, and I'm going to need help looking for him." Blaine explained.
"Of course." Finn answered.
That night, they met in front of the school, both carrying flashlights and a crowbar. Finn had also brought bolt cutters. "For the locks." he explained.
They made it inside the locker room without being seen. They picked through the debris, making their way slowly to where the lockers were. The bright red double decker lockers had been replaced during Finn and Kurt's senior year with bright red full length ones. A congratulations of sorts from the alumni boosters for winning the state championship. They now stood misshapen and charred black.
They started at opposite ends, cutting the locks off of each door and prying them open one at a time. It was hard work. The intense heat of the fire had warped the locker frames, and they had to bend the metal back to get each door open.
They got through the first ten lockers and Finn stopped. He stood in front of his old locker. Taking a deep breath, he pried it open. His clothes and football uniform inside were charred rags. His shoes were melted to the little shelf, and a metal can of what was once deodorant spray lay swollen to bursting and rusted. Tucked in behind the shoe-puddle was a photo album.
It was charred around the edges, and the cover was destroyed, but when he opened it, the first picture he saw was him and Kurt dancing at their parents' wedding. A few more pages in, and there's Kurt and Finn in their football gear. There were several more pictures of Kurt, and all of them were in near perfect condition. A few towards the back of the book were singed, but that's it.
Blaine heard Finn sniffle, trying to fight back tears, and went over to him. He looked down at the photo album and gasped.
"I think this is going to sound crazy, but was Kurt wearing that outfit the day of the fire?" Blaine asked, pointing to the picture on the page.
Finn looked up at him, stunned. "Yeah. I remember giving him shit about it that morning. I told him his pants look liked pajamas. I had a pair that looked almost the same that I had slept in the night before. He stuck his tongue out at me and said I was hopeless."
"He had on a fox tail." Blaine said quietly. There was no tail in the picture.
"Yeah. He loved that thing. I'd watch him when we had class together, and he would put it in his lap and pet it, like a cat or something. I know he wanted one, but my mom's allergic. I think it calmed him down. Soothed him, you know? School was kind of rough on him." Finn thought for a second then looked at Blaine. "Wait, how did you know that?"
"I saw him, remember? We still need to find him." Blaine answered, cutting another padlock off of another locker and prying it open. "And if we do, are you going to be okay? I'm not sure anyone should ever see someone they love...you know. Like...that."
"I'll be fine. It's the not knowing what happened to him that I can't deal with." Finn ran his fingers over the last picture in the book before closing it and setting it aside. He wiped the tears from his eyes and started on the next locker.
"I never wanted to believe he did what everyone said he did. It just wasn't him. He went through a lot. He watched his mom die when he was just a kid. It was just him and his dad for years before our parents got together. He introduced them to each other, did you know that? He wore very expensive weird clothes, sometimes women's clothes. He didn't give a shit what anyone said about it. He worked his ass off in the garage to pay for them himself. He got good grades and he was really smart. He sang like an angel. He was a countertenor, you know. It's rare to find one. He could have easily made it on Broadway or something."
"Junior year, our glee club went to Nationals in New York City and he fell in love with that place. He was always saying he was going to get out of this town, move to New York and fall in love. Leave all the loneliness behind him. I think that was what got to him the most. Being alone. I mean, he had friends, and we all loved him, but it's not the same as being in love, you know?"
"He sounds like a great guy." Blaine said.
"He was." Finn sighed as he cut the lock from the next locker. "I don't know if I can open this one. It's his."
"I can do it." Blaine offered. "You don't have to look."
Finn put down his crowbar and put his head against the locker. "Yeah. Okay."
Blaine came up behind him and put his hand on Finn's shoulder. "If he's in there, what do we do?"
"No idea. Call the cops I guess. I just need to know." Finn said. "It's been six years."
"Do you want to go wait outside? I can get these last few lockers on my own if you need me to." Blaine suggested. "Go grab some air."
"No." Finn turned so he couldn't see his brother's locker. "Open it. Please."
Blaine pried the locker door open.
Inside were the decayed skeletal remains of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. The charred clothing he had worn to school that day hung from his body. A singed fox tail hung from a belt loop at his hip, the bones of his fingers curled around the fur.
The funeral was held a few days later. They buried him next to his mother, but not before Finn was able to convince the funeral director to sneak the new fox tail he had bought for Kurt into his casket.
Blaine went to the funeral service, and Burt hugged him, thanking him for finding his son. Mr. Shuester and the rest of the members of New Directions came as well. Sue Sylvester even put in an appearance to pay respects to her sweet Porcelain.
After the funeral, Blaine went home. He walked into his room to find Kurt sitting on his bed. This time, he was glowing and had a smile on his face.
"I saw her. My mom. She's just as beautiful as I remember. She's waiting for me." Kurt explained. "I came to thank you. And say goodbye."
"Kurt." Blaine said, tearing up again. "Can I... I want to..."
"What is it, Blaine?"
"Can I hug you?" Blaine asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Kurt didn't say anything. He moved off the bed and and took Blaine into his arms. The warmth of him and the beat of the heart in his chest were the first things Kurt had been able to feel in six years. "I can't stay. She's calling me."
"Then go to her. Go be happy, Kurt." Blaine said. "You deserve it."
"You saved me Blaine. I will always love you for that." Kurt said, taking Blaine's face in his hands and pulling him in and kissing him.
They were still locked together when Kurt was engulfed by a blinding white light that filled the room.
And then he was gone.
(END)