A/N I'm just doing some role reversing. Shhh, it'll be okay. I just couldn't shake the smirk Sebastian wore from my mind - after he slushied Blaine by accident, you know. It was… regretful? Dumbfounded? But his face would have been the opposite if it had hit the target. So very different.

I'm trying to write this A/N as if I do not like angst and grief for our boys. But sadly, I'm a whore for angst. Blaine's been slushied, now it's Kurt's turn…for the Michael episode, anyway.

Let's explore the beautiful world that is Klangst. Together.

The Only One Screaming

Briefly, he wondered why the two teams were going all out in their performance, nearly reenacting Michael Jackson's Bad music video to a peak. The surrounding concrete and musty smell was intense, and Kurt found himself wrinkling his nose and recoiling from a dark stain too close to his feet more than a few times.

But that was the drama of it; and he wasn't one to pass up drama.

Kurt minded himself during the number, mingling with the Warblers and mischievously shoving them as they shoved him. Kurt kept a stern face, though his eyes sparkled, and he reentered the group that accepted him when times were low and fortune was measly.

Kurt shot glances and glares at Sebastian, the lead of the competition, as he got up in Santana's face, raising his arms and doing an intimidating chest pulse. His voice fused with her's, and Artie was left to clear the stage, or the pavement, with his daunting expression.

Kurt retreated back to his side of the arena, crossing his arms as he stood back to catch his breath, letting the members in front of him take over for only a second or two. He skidded against the ground as the Warblers advanced forward, bumping shoulders and shaking weight from the arms.

His boots caught on a crack and, taking a look around, he paused in the distraction. In his distant eye sight, the straining of his pupils against the dark light, he saw a uniformed boy sneak away to disappear around a corner only to re-emerge a moment later, hands clutching an object.

Santana was pulling him forward when he chose to forget about it. She forced him to the front, forced the words from his throat with a nod and smirk and sang along with him, along with the entirety of New Directions.

But then everyone was gone. Quinn was dueling with Jeff, Santana with Smythe, Tina with David, Blaine with Flint, and Kurt was alone. A lone Warbler got in his face, a smile playing at his lips, and Kurt absently fought with him until he was gone as well. Kurt had blinked and he was left alone once more.

The line-to-line face had formed once more, but Kurt could not see his teammates beside him. They were too far away, too far away, but the Warblers were close, too close.

They were huddled like a pack of wolves, but only Sebastian bared his teeth.

Kurt faintly registered the naïve faces of rest, mouths open in song and eyes playful. The whole world had to answer right now - Sebastian's eyes narrowed as a sneer painted his face - just to tell you once again -

Sebastian was bad.

And then the familiar sight of a slushie was rushing towards him, cutting through the air like the knives it was sure to feel like, and Kurt's face morphed into disbelief. But of course, he thought. Of course.

Eyes scanning the faces of those around him, wide and incredulous, Kurt didn't remember to close his eyes.

His head snapped back to Sebastian and his comrades, and what had been in slow motion sped up and then his eyes were no longer wide and incredulous, but closed and stricken.

A slushie had never knocked him off his feet. A slushie had never sent him backwards. It had never done more damage than a few stains and short-lasting soreness. These thoughts expanded in the expanse of Kurt's mind, and it was the only thing he was able to think, that is, before his back cracked against the concrete ground, neck jumping an inch only to come back cold.

And then he could think nothing more than his physical state; the pain against his eyelids was sharp and bitter, the sparks and unpleasant tingle the slushie had against his skin as it trailed down his cheeks, and the snaps of his sore back as he rolled around in a fit were the only things he could grasp onto. A bubbling scream worked it's way from his mouth, resounding alongside the walls and piercing his own ears.

But then a hand was resting on his chest, weighting him down to lie on his back, forcing the clawing hands away from his eyes and rubbing circles underneath his bottom lashes. A comforting voice broke a barrier, and Kurt groaned loudly as shockwaves of pain hit him.

He writhed on the pavement once more, attempting to get away, but a firm hand held him down. He never wanted to get away.

Footsteps were walking into the distance, becoming fainter and fainter until he knew they were gone. His current gasp ended in a smaller, equally hoarse, scream.

Blaine continued to rub circles underneath his eyes, continued to hold him down steadily, continued to murmur soothing words of no meaning.

And Kurt let out one last cry before succumbing to that serenity Blaine insisted upon, trying to his best stay silent because when he wasn't, he couldn't hear Blaine's peaceful nothings.

"Scream if you need to, Kurt," were distinct words Kurt made out, "Don't hold it in."

A questioning growl of a noise passed out of Kurt's lips, opening them only to let the inquiry out before they pressed together and grimaced.

"Scream as loud as you can; Sebastian will hear," a strangled sound paused the words, "That way I won't be the only one."