This is based off of a real-life experience at the university I attended, but was also originally written for one of the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts (echo, I think). I just never finished it. Well, here's taking 'better late than never' to the extreme. That prompt was in 2013 XD Warning for mention of Kadam friendship.
"Okay, so I'll see you guys on Thursday and we can go over scene selections then." Kurt double-checks his planner as he speed-walks through the theater, keeping an eye out for potential scheduling conflicts. He's not paying particular attention to where he's going, but there's no one around he can bump into. That's one of the reasons why he's rushing. He was supposed to be done and gone over two hours ago, but a mix-up with costumes for tomorrow night's production of Hamlet had him organizing bustles, shuffling shoes around, and putting shifts and corsets back in their correct order. Because of him, Hamlet won't be strutting on stage wearing Ophelia's night gown (although that could help, in this instance, to make their lead more relatable), but no one's likely to thank him for it.
He should have left the costumes the way they were. He normally has nothing but praise for the performances that the NYADA theater department puts on, but the cast of Hamlet is primarily freshmen this year.
It's only three months into their first semester and, unfortunately, the diva hasn't worn off some of them yet.
"Sounds good," Adam says. "Mark and I will be home at seven, after Apples practice. Should we expect you at 7:30?"
"Hmm, better make it 8," Kurt suggests after spotting a word in the box he's looking at that had trailed off into nothing when his pen ran out of ink. "I'll be leaving a staff meeting at Vogue, and I might not catch the train on ti-"
Kurt's feet stutter to a halt without him realizing where he is. But his body knows from the musty smell in the air, the sharp drop in temperature, the whistling echo the soles of his shoes make when they go from wood to cement, and the quality of the light – the romantic, golden lights overhead ending like a wall, making way to utter darkness. Like a Pavlovian dog, he's been conditioned to avoid this one spot like the plague.
Now that he's here, he regrets not being more cognizant of where he was going.
"You're there … aren't you?" Adam asks, his voice hushed from across town.
Kurt stares into the void ahead of him. "Yup."
"Turn around," his friend urges. "Turn right around and go back the way you came."
Kurt sighs. "I can't. I'm already half-an-hour late for my train. If I go back, it's going to take me forty-five minutes to get to the main entrance. And who knows if the janitor locked the theater door already. I can't take that chance. If I cut through here, I'll be out in fifteen minutes."
"Do you want us to stay on the phone with you?"
"Yeah," Mark puts in. "We're walking to the subway. We can keep you company. It'll be like we're all walking through the pit of despair together owww!" The sound of Mark whining in pain as Adam elbows him for his morbid sense of humor comes close to making Kurt laugh … but not quite.
"No, no, it's fine." Kurt shoves his planner in his messenger bag, preparing to forage ahead … at a run, if need be. "This is silly. I'll be fine. Have fun, you guys. Don't worry about me."
"Okay. Just … text us when you reach the other side," Adam insists.
"Or, you know, Ouija us. Whichever's appropriate."
"Mark!"
Kurt rolls his eyes. "Ha-ha." He'd laugh for real if that comment weren't a little too on the nose. "I'm going to let you guys go now," Kurt says over Mark's second owww!, "so I can meet my inevitable fate."
"Don't worry, hun," Adam says. "The last time someone died down there was about ten years ago, and that was a freak accident."
"Yup," Mark agrees, "because some freak beat them to death with a baseball bat."
"Bye!"
"Bye, love," Adam says, while, in the background, Kurt hears Mark yell, "Wait! Wait! You haven't told him about the phantom of the …!"
Kurt hangs up before Mark can be even more helpful, but without them on the phone, the theater is quiet.
Deathly quiet.
A quiet so intense, it makes him feel twenty pounds heavier.
It's been dubbed Jack's Place by the kids in the theater department – a forty-foot stretch of inky darkness, even in the daytime, underneath the stage; the name an obscure reference to the movie The Shining.
Most everyone goes down it – teachers, too – because it cuts thirty minutes out of the walk from one end of the theater to the other. No one "remembers" to bring a flashlight (even though most cell phones have flashlight features nowadays). But, of course, walking down it in the dark is part of the "fun".
It's considered a rite of passage – pun firmly intended.
But after the fifteen-hundredth time, it becomes a huge nuisance.
NYADA had plans to fix it – install lights, a railing, and security cameras - but the theater kids petitioned against it. They managed to win after getting some high-profile alums on their side who agreed that walking down Jack's Place was tradition.
Like most other school traditions, this one's dangerous and stupid af, but since there's only been a handful of deaths down there during the last fifty years and no sexual assaults, he guesses NYADA sees it as low on the priority totem pole.
Usually, Kurt doesn't mind. During the day, there's plenty of foot traffic, voices around to keep you company, most of whom Kurt recognized. And with the amount of cell phones being used, there's a fair amount of light.
But at night, it goes from quirky little theater tradition to raging nightmare fuel.
Standing at the edge of this abyss, phone in hand, Kurt stares his destiny head on.
He switches on his flashlight app and a beam of white light illuminates his shoes. It's bright, but Kurt knows from experience that it'll get swallowed up quickly the further in he goes. There are markers halfway through that will help him along. All he has to do is keep walking straight. And he intends on doing so with his shoulders squared and his head held high. There's nothing down that walkway that can hurt him. No one else is here … that he knows of.
But there could be somebody.
A group of students planning a prank? Maybe someone from the cast of Hamlet. They'd have to be damned committed to the task to stay this late, but still.
Homeless people have been known to sneak in to find shelter from the rain. It's not raining now, but it's chilly. So there's always a chance.
But NYADA students and homeless people more than likely won't kill him.
Deranged lunatic with a baseball bat? Absolutely!
"God, Kurt! Stop being such a Nervous Nelly!" he snaps, plunging into the darkness, not breaking his stride as it envelopes him regardless of how unsettling it feels. He steps too far back on his heel and slides three feet, and that keeps him from sprinting across. He doesn't need to twist an ankle and get trapped down here.
Kurt considers himself a brave man, but not brave enough to spend the night here.
He slows his steps, which proves to be easier than slowing his heart or his breathing. He finds a marching rhythm he can sync up to his audition piece, which he hums aloud to not only keep himself company, but also to show anyone around him that he's not a threat. Just another NYADA student cutting through the way all NYADA students do.
Also by humming and showing he's a student here, he's proving that he has no money. Dishing out over eighty thousand a year for tuition, he has no extra cash worth slitting his throat over.
It doesn't get darker the further in he walks. That's not possible. But it does get colder. A hollow echo follows him comprised of the sounds of traffic outside, the subway below, and what he assumes are rats racing along the walls.
He's hasn't seen them, but they sound enormous.
Kurt stops humming in order to listen, gauging how much farther he has to go by those cues. The subway below him, for one, gets louder as he reaches the halfway point since there used to be an exhaust vent around there somewhere, which the administration covered with cement. From what Kurt heard the smell was nauseating, and permeated the entire theater. A train zips by, making the ground beneath his feet quake. It's disorienting, so he stops and waits for it to pass.
But once it does, he wishes he'd kept walking.
Without the sound of the train to mask it, a new sound has joined the chorus of echoes.
Footsteps – soft, muffled, and coming from behind him.
"Uh … hello?" he says, but clamps his mouth shut quickly. He doesn't want anyone to know he's there. He looks at his phone, to see if he has any service here. Maybe he can call Adam back. Or the police. He doesn't, but he realizes with a sinking feeling that the person behind him already knows he's there.
They know exactly where he is.
The phone in his hands, spotlighting his feet, is a dead giveaway. It had become such a non-thing barely lightening his path that he'd glossed over it. He considers shutting it off, but then he wouldn't be able to get out. It doesn't exactly show him the way, but it keeps him from veering off into walls or walking around in circles. Plus, starting at the center of the walkway, there's a red line on the floor that leads to the other end.
That's what he needs to focus on.
Should he wait here for this other person, whoever they are? If they intend on doing him harm, should he stand his ground and face them head on? Or keep going, and run the risk that they'll eventually catch up to him?
He tries to weigh the pros and cons, but he can't think straight with those footsteps coming closer and closer.
He decides to keep going. Considering he's armed with only his messenger bag and his phone (he'd accidentally left his pepper spray at the diner where he works), he won't do well going up against an armed assailant. Besides, it's probably just another NYADA student, stuck after hours like him. Or the janitor locking up for the night. They have to come down this way, too, right?
Or a murderous lunatic with a baseball bat.
That option keeps cropping up, doesn't it?
Damn Mark for planting that nugget in his brain!
Whoever it is, it sounds like they're casually walking, and far behind. No reason to freak out. They're doing their own thing, minding their own business, keeping their distance.
It's not like they're leading him into a trap or something.
Kurt spots an object in front of him, an indistinguishable silhouette on the floor, but doesn't register it in time to avoid tripping over it … and drops his phone. The second he does, the light turns off.
He didn't hear a crack, so his battery must have popped out.
"Shit, shit, shit," Kurt mutters, kneeling carefully and feeling around for his phone. He considers making a run for it and leaving it behind, but he needs his phone. If he survives, his life is going to suck big time if he doesn't have his phone, even just for tonight. Luckily, his phone and his battery aren't too far from him. He grabs the pieces, fumbles them together (flipping his battery back and forth three times before it slides into place), and switches it on. It takes a moment to boot up, for him to unlock the screen, and turn on the flashlight app.
Throughout this entire ordeal, it hasn't escaped him that the footsteps coming up behind him have gotten louder … and then stopped.
"Shit, shit, shit," he mutters again, trembling to his bones as he stands. He debates whether he should check behind him or keep going. Either way, he risks getting jumped. But if he takes off now, he might get a head start.
But curiosity gets the better of him.
If anything, he'd rather not get attacked from behind.
He slowly turns around.
He doesn't see a person, per se. Not a body, and not a face. But a short distance ahead, only five feet or so, he sees the toes of a pair of brown shoes. (Ferragamo? Looks like, but Kurt can't be sure.) They remain completely still as Kurt examines them, and he wonders for a second if that's what he tripped over – a spare pair of shoes that some asshat left as a prank.
But from somewhere above the shoes, someone sneezes.
Kurt's body goes cold – so cold, he's sure he's turned to solid ice, paralyzed with fear.
And that's the straw that breaks him, the camel's back, and all the china in the shop.
He takes off running, yelling the entire way.
"Shit shit shit! Please, don't kill me! Please!? I have so much to live for! I haven't starred in my first Broadway play! Or even an off-Broadway play! I haven't seen Hamilton yet, and I just started watching This Is Us! I was going to adopt a shelter pet this week. Please! Don't leave some poor homeless cat without an owner! Let me live! Let me live!"
Kurt hears something hit the ground. Maybe whoever's chasing him tripped? He throws a glance over his shoulder, using his phone to light the way, and sees those shoes running after him. "Ahhhhhh!" he screams, and puts on a burst of speed. He sees light up ahead – the dim lights of the theater. It's not that far! He can make it! All he has to do is book it, and he'll be there!
Then what? He needs a plan beyond "get to the light". Just because he makes it doesn't mean this man isn't still going to kill him. It only means Kurt will see him when he does.
Besides, "get to the light" sounds too much like a Poltergeist reference for his taste, especially taking into account that many of the actors in that movie series are dead now.
Maybe Kurt can dissuade his attacker. Threaten to stream it on Facebook or something. If this guy was hiding down here in the dark, he probably doesn't want to be seen.
Kurt looks at his phone, praying for coverage.
He still doesn't have any.
Dammit!
He doesn't know what to do. He can lie and say he's streaming. But is he a good enough actor to pull that off?
He almost slaps himself in the face for that.
Of course, he is!
And under normal, not-life-or-death circumstances, he would be.
But the second he reaches the end of the corridor, any semblance of a plan flies out of his head, and he resorts to the only thing he can think of.
Begging.
"Please, don't hurt me!" Kurt says, backing away with his arms up for defense. "Please?"
The man chasing him bursts out of the dark and … he's not what Kurt expected. At all. He's shorter, for one, and seems to be lacking in the deadly weapon department. He doesn't even have a menacing face. He's smartly dressed in slacks, a button down shirt, and a cardigan. He's even wearing a bowtie.
And yes, those are Ferragamo shoes he's wearing.
If he wasn't a serial killer, Kurt would think he's an ordinary handsome librarian-slash-accountant. Possibly even a professor.
Honestly, he looks as frightened as Kurt feels.
"What?" the man asks, confused. He glances over his shoulder, then back at Kurt. "Are you … are you talking to me?"
"Yes!" Kurt practically screams in his face. "Who else is chasing me?"
To that, the man looks over his shoulder one more time. When he looks back at Kurt, he's smiling – a warm, kind, not at all murder-y smile.
"No, no. I'm not… I'm not going to hurt you. I saw you look over my head and take off running, so I thought you saw someone behind me." He takes a step forward, but Kurt instinctively takes a step back, and the man's smile dims. "I'm sorry. I thought you heard me behind you."
"Yeah, I did, but I thought ..." Kurt takes a steadying breath and puts his hands down. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't want to frighten you." The man chuckles. "Didn't work, did it?"
"No, it didn't," Kurt scolds, but he starts to relax. "Do you, uh, go this way every night?"
"No. I try to avoid it. I've been following you, actually. God …" He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, an obvious indicator that he put his foot in his mouth "… that doesn't make me sound any less creepy, does it?"
"I'm afraid not."
"My name's Blaine. Blaine Anderson. I'm working lighting for Hamlet."
"I'm Kurt," Kurt offers, and Blaine smiles shyly.
"I know. I saw you win Midnight Madness a few weeks ago, and I … I've been trying to get up the courage to talk to you, but I'm not all that good at striking up conversation. When I saw you working late, I thought I might take the chance. But when you left the wardrobe room, you were on your phone, and I didn't want to interrupt. So, I followed you. You walk pretty fast." Blaine pauses and laughs, taking a deep breath in as if he's winded. "It was hard for me to keep up. I couldn't catch up to you before you went down the walkway, so I thought I'd follow you, introduce myself when we reached the other side." Blaine sighs. "I'm sorry. I guess it wasn't one of my best ideas."
"No, but that's okay," Kurt agrees, feeling calmer now that his nightmare seems to have a happy ending – an adorable and slightly flustered happy ending. "Maybe we should start over, now that I know you're not going to bludgeon me with a baseball bat." Kurt offers Blaine his hand. Blaine raises his hand to shake Kurt's, but notices something amiss. He looks down his body, then under his arm, and back over his shoulder.
"Uh … uh-oh."
"What?"
"Well, I … I lost my sheet music … you know … running down this way. It was under my arm," he explains, raising his right arm for emphasis.
Kurt stares back down the hall, swallowing hard. "It could be anywhere." He remembers hearing it. It shouldn't be that far away, but Kurt doesn't feel like going back. The past five minutes has aged him twenty years! "You know, it's my fault you dropped it. Let me make it up to you."
"What did you have in mind?"
"There's a music store about five blocks from here that closes at midnight. I'll replace your sheet music and buy you some coffee on the way. Sound good?"
Blaine's cheeks turn red enough for Kurt to see in the low light. "I … I couldn't let you do that. Not after I scared you half to death. I'll just …"
They here a growl come from the opposite end of the walkway – a strange, inhuman growl - and an eerie laugh, followed by what could be the start of footsteps headed their way.
They don't stick around to find out.
"On second thought, I think I'll take you up on your offer!"
"Great!" Kurt grabs Blaine's elbow and takes off towards the exit. "No reason to stay here in the dark all night! We're busy and important people! People who will be missed with lots of things to do!"
"Yes, sir, we are! And coffee sounds great!"
"Absolutely! Please run faster!"