i'm asking for your help
i am going through hell
afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
you cut out all the noise
and not that i can see mistakes so clearly now
i'd kill if i could take you back
but how?
but how?
but how?
but how?
but i don't understand the meaning of love
i do not mind if i die trying
i do not mind if i die trying
i do not mind if i die trying
~how. maroon 5.
two.
(kurt&blaine)
(k u r t pov)
(1862)
"Darling, I was thinking about having the Hudsons over for dinner. Does Friday sound all right?" your wife asks while you're having breakfast. You smile at her, nodding an acceptance.
"Of course, Brittany dear. That would be fine, we haven't seen Finn or Quinn for quite a while," you respond, finishing your food and allowing the maid to take your plate away.
"Do you have plans for today?" she asks as you stand, daintily dabbing at her lips with a napkin.
"Oh, the usual, some work to catch up on. I'll be in my study for most of the day. There's some correspondence that I need to catch up on. What are you going to spend your day doing?" you answer easily, a soft smile on your face.
"I'm afraid that I'll be out all day. Mother asked if I could visit, she said that there was something wrong with her cat!" her voices rises with concern at the end of her statement and your smile becomes fond. "I'm actually planning on leaving now, if you would like to walk me out," she says, an inviting smile curling her lips.
You bow gallantly, holding out an arm and helping her to stand.
You walk to the door and bid her farewell before shutting the front door and walking through each room of the house, dismissing all the servants for the day.
Then you go upstairs and walk to your bedroom, closing all the shutters until it looks like nighttime again.
You hear someone enter and shut the door softly behind them and the moment that you turn around, you're being kissed and a warm palm is pressed to your cheek.
His lips are soft and smooth against yours, warmth seeping into your cold body. You're fallen back before you know it, landing with him tangled in the sheets that Brittany has never even touched.
"I've missed you," a quiet voice whispers near your ear, a hand finding it's way to one of yours and linking all your fingers together.
"I've missed you too, Blaine," you whisper back, an impossibly wide grin spreading across your face without your permission. His lips press to your neck and you begin to fumble with the buttons on his servant's jacket.
The rest of the day disappears.
It's full of warm caresses and soft sighs, perfect lips and kisses that make your whole body tingle.
You know that this is wrong. Not only are you married, but you've been taught since birth that it's a sin to enjoy another man's body the same way that you are meant to enjoy a woman's.
But Blaine makes your heart stop, your stomach flutter, your eyes sparkle. He makes you feel in a way that Brittany never has.
Don't misunderstand, because you do love Brittany in a way. She's sweet if slightly oblivious, she always has a kind word to say and you're much happier with her than you ever would have been with the other women in town.
But she doesn't make you see sparks.
You don't love her the way that you love Blaine.
You love Blaine in the way that Finn loves Quinn, In the way your father loves your mother. And you don't care if anyone else says that it's wrong.
You firmly believe that no love is ever wrong.
So when you moved to your new house with your new wife and you got all new servants and there was this one servant, with dark eyes and a quick smile and a beautiful voice, you didn't hesitate to get closer to him. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, maybe it wasn't the best thing to be doing, maybe everyone else thought that it was wrong.
But you've never felt happier than when you're with him.
You tripped in the dark while making your way to bed one night a few months ago and took him down with you and he was so close. He was breathing your air and you were close enough to see that his eyes had warm undertones of caramel and you couldn't stop yourself from pressing your lips to his. He smelled like ash and the forest and musk, the furthest scent from Brittany's own roses and lavender that you could possibly imagine. You loved it.
And you loved that moment.
Especially when he started to kiss back.
There had been a few days like this before, days where everyone left and it was just you and Blaine and stolen kisses. They're few and far in between, but they're the most amazing days that you've ever experienced.
And they always end too early.
That thought, that hatred of beautiful days that end much too soon, it's what leads you to ask him to stay.
You tell him that it'll be fine, that no one will catch you an that you'll open the shutters so that the sun wakes the two of you before any of the rest of the house.
But it doesn't matter.
They find you before the sun comes up.
You don't know who found you first, which one of the servants discovered you and Blaine lying naked and entwined with one another on your bed. But one of them did. And they told the entire town.
You're awakened by the sound of heavy footsteps, rough hands grabbing you and pulling you away from Blaine even as you try to hold on to him. There are voices screaming as you blearily open your eyes, someone throwing a pair of pants at you and harsh hands yanking them on.
The voices are screaming about devils.
They're calling you and Blaine demons, saying that you're possessed, that the real Kurt Hummel would never do something so heinous and that he must've been seduced by Satan himself.
And then your neighbor steps forward. "Fellow town-members!" he proclaims, his voice easily rising above the rest of the crowds, "I, too, believe that this is the work of evil, and not Kurt's fault. But, friends, there is no way to remove a demon from someone."
Your eyes lock on Dave's cold ones, a plea forming on your lips even as he finishes speaking.
"They must be burned."
The second you try to utter a protest, there's a fist in your stomach and you can't breathe. You fall to the floor as hit after hit rains down upon you, a kick to your back making you scream in pain. Blaine tries to reach you, tries to speak, and they start to hit him too. Blood trickles down your face as you try to meet his gaze, the sharp pain of each hit making it impossible to focus.
You just want to find Blaine.
Two men grab you and carry you out of the house, the angry mob surrounding you on the way to the center of the town.
Before you know what's happening, your being straightened out and the pain from all your bruises and broken bones causes your vision to swim and everything to go black. You wake up a few seconds later when someone slaps your face, already tied to the post with Blaine next to you.
Dave's eyes meet yours.
"Burn," he whispers, stepping away even as the rest of the village surges forward.
Blaine is tied to the pole next to you, barely conscious. There is blood marring his beautiful features and you're filled with such hatred for the people of you town that you can't stop the primal scream that makes it's way out of your throat. It's full of anger and violence and it makes your throat feel raw, but it makes the rest of the townsfolk back up, crossing themselves and refusing to look directly at your flashing blue eyes.
Someone lights the wood at your feet on fire.
You continue to scan the gaze and your gaze locks with Brittany's from where she stands at the back of the crowd. There's tears in her eyes and a frown twisting her lips. The others, the people that grabbed you and Blaine and tied you up and beat you bloody, they're all surrounding her, faces melting into blurs of disgust and outrage and righteous anger. You lose sight of Brittany and your eyes slip closed at the exact same moment that Blaine's hand finds yours, fingers linking with his even though it hurts to stretch your arm out that far.
The flames around the two of you are burning brighter, getting closer, growing hotter.
You can't breathe anymore.
But that doesn't even matter because the story isn't finished yet, your story isn't finished yet.
And you'd rather die with your hand locked with his than with your mouth pressed to hers.
So.. Sorry. That was depressing. The next one is Puckleberry though!
I hope no one thinks that it was unrealistic, but, honestly, I don't know that much about the 1800s. I thought that it was pretty accurate, accurate enough for fanfiction I guess. And, yeah, everyone will die in this story. Someone asked if Finn died in the last chapter, and he did. Everyone will be. Sorry if that wasn't clear. And, yes, it was Dave as in Dave Karofsky.
I don't own Glee or the Maroon 5 song.
Review?
