A.N. I will start off by saying this update was not a planned one but it is related to my 'Zombie' fic idea so it'll do. So, what is this ficlet about? One word: Dahmer. For those who don't know who Jeffery Dahmer was, he is one of America's highest profile serial killers who killed other men from the late 70s to very early 90s. There's a great deal to know about him and I must admit I cannot turn away from documentaries of his crimes. They are just so disturbingly gruesome and sinister that you wonder why someone decided to make a movie out of it. Well, they did. And they called it 'Dahmer'.

Basically I saw the movie years ago and decided to give it another go but within the first 15 minutes I decided to pause the flick and write some dark!Klaine. Go figure. So, yeah. This fic is almost a scene-by-scene shot of the first 15 minutes in which the Dahmer character (ahem, Blaine) manages to ensnare a teenage boy (Kurt) and the horrible things that happened to him. I changed a few things to better suit Glee characters but the main points are there. For those who would like to watch (I think it's an 18 / R rated movie so bear that in mind) I can say that I was able to watch the whole thing on youtube. I love Jeremy Renner and to me he seemed perfect for the part.

Warning: Okay, so all my usual warning still stand (e.g. swearing, sex, violence, evilness etc) but I'm adding a new one: This stuff – though partly dramatised and invented for the film – did actually happen. Young men did die and obviously this fic is not making light of the awfulness but if you think you would be upset or disturbed reading a Klaine fic based on a real man and his murders then please do not read. It's something I understand and if I had not written it I don't know how I would feel about reading it. If you are happy reading it as it is – a dark fanfic with Blaine and Kurt – please continue! I just don't want flames after giving you this much warning!

EDITED WARNING: So within 24 hours of posting this I had a (respectful) bad review, the person saying that I hadn't included 'gore' in the warning therefore he/she had not been prepared for the horribleness of the chapter. Whilst I personally think my warning above was enough (I included violence and evilness - I've written gory parts before so nothing new) I do respect that perhaps other people found a specific part too much and without what they consider an accurate warning. So...once again...just don't read if blood, gore, bad-violent-things-happening-to-good-people upsets you. I don't like knowing I might have upset someone so I'd appreciate potential readers really thinking before choosing to read. To all those who aren't affected by this, I hope you enjoy this chapter. :P

They Keep Trying to Leave Me


Blaine Devon Anderson was a sweet sort. Quiet and impeccably well presented, the twenty six year old kept himself to himself most of the time. His friendly and considerate nature seemed perfect for Calendar View, the cities tiny and practically abandoned art gallery situated on the top floor of a run-down building above a legal firm office and shut down movie theatre. As the sole custodian and caretaker, he could spend hours there on his own just researching one of the many interest he had, or hum gently as a few stray visitors wandered in and circle the floor as they politely nod in pretend interest when Blaine Anderson softly volunteers little snippets of trivia regarding the Ohio-born artists on display.

It was not a well paid job by any means and someone as well educated as him, with his background in medicine, certainly could have secured far more prominent employment but he was happy. Left to his own devices, he enjoyed his own company. It also gave him a lot of time to think. And plan. The city could only afford to keep the gallery open a few full days each week and on one particular Wednesday lunchtime Blaine was happy to close up shop early. Like most young men, he had a vice; a weakness he could not escape from and in his case it could more accurately be called an addiction. By Wednesday he had resisted satisfying his addiction for more than eight days and he was positively shivering from his abstinence. He took one last patrol around the various rooms out of habit, knowing full well not only had no one come in that day at all but also there was no reasonable desire for anyone to want to hide inside such a place. He then locked up, took the backdoor outside and descended down the fire escape stairs. As he reached the street he realised he needed to make a decision now: bar or mall? He had more success at bars but most of the gay joints were getting suspicious of him so he figured he would have to lay low for a while. Mall it was!

Blaine Anderson caught the subway to the large department store two stops away from his home. The warm and faint mall music welcomed him into the air conditioned foyer, and numerous clerks stood on the verge of their respective stores with smiles beckoning him inside. He ignored them, though, and headed straight to the large Macy's at the very back. No offence to the other retailers but the fish he liked to hook did not normally bite in such small waters. Almost instantly after entering the brightly lit first floor he saw a potential catch. The gentleman stood in his own dream world by a stack of scatter cushions. As Blaine drew closer, he was almost willing to bet the man was gay from his plaid waist coat and precisely combed hair. As usual, he held back and watched. He was glad he did. Out of nowhere, an admittedly cute redhead in a neatly pressed pencil skirt flitted up to him and begged for him to come see some new cleaning product available on special offer. As the happy couple walked away, Blaine frowned. Okay, not off to a great start. He wandered up to the second floor to menswear and took a fake interest in some tube socks, all the while scanning the area for men on their own. It then occurred to him that he was not the only one doing so; he himself was currently being checked out by a balding, bespeckled man with a cream sweatshirt draped across his shoulder like some dramatic musical director. The man smiled and issued a wink in Blaine's direction. Blaine, in turn, dropped the socks in his hand and deliberately strode in the opposite direction. There was a huge element of hypocrisy involved turning away from someone doing the exact same thing you were doing but Blaine new that even he – with his addiction strong – had standards. The man clearly gave up on him as when Blaine found himself amongst the many aisles of shoes he was nowhere to be seen. No commitment, that guy. Doesn't he know you have to just take what you want?

It was then, as he slumped off towards the dressier shoes, that he saw him. Him. There was a thudding feeling in the pit of Blaine's stomach seeing such a human being in the flesh, and it gave Blaine chills from the sight alone. He stared at him and discovered that – Holy shit! – he was nervous. Sure, whenever he was out on the prowl there was an element of danger that kept him alert and on his toes but this was something else. This fear was different.

The young man seemed to be in quite a predicament on his own holding up a couple of pairs of boots in his hands, studying them with torn scrutiny. His chestnut brown hair appeared soft and thick under the light, and ever so lightly styled at the front. The colour of his locks were rich and contrasted in the most beautiful way against his silky pale skin. There was something about his elfish features – tall, pointed ears and straight-yet-slightly-upturned nose – that seemed so perfectly sculpted like he was just some masterpiece created by history's most talented artists. What Blaine would give to have a portrait of this boy to hang pride of place in his galley so he could gaze at it all day long... He shook himself out of his stupor and steeled himself. It occurred to him exactly what this new fear was: he feared failing in capturing this gorgeous being in his net. He had to know who he was. He had to take him home. He had to... He had to satisfy his addiction with this boy's body.

It took all of his willpower to drive him away from this sudden surge of panic but within moments he calmed himself down. This man was just like all the others; nothing special. Blaine looked around. Aside from an elderly man receiving help from an assistant in putting on a raincoat there was no one else around. Blaine moved to the parallel aisle of the one the beauty was in. He casually strolled up and glanced over to the young man as nonchalant as he could. The man looked young, like a teenager. A boy of maybe seventeen with what Blaine could only assume was a schoolbag hanging on his shoulder. Blaine bit his lip and checked his watch. It was a little after four so it made sense for a student to be here when there was a high school not far from the mall. With no parents or obvious friends around, he seemed alone. Blaine had been involved with a nineteen year old before back when his addiction was not nearly as demanding, but he had always tried to avoid them. Families always make such bigger deals when disappearances concerned kids and less so when it was an adult. Still, Blaine could not walk away from this. Not now.

Circling round the top of the aisle, Blaine began walking towards the boy at last. The brown-haired angel had not even noticed him when Blaine passed inches behind him, too lost in his apparent love a particular pair of shoes. Black, high top, Cole Haan boots. Designer gear. Blaine hid a grin; not only was the boy likely to be gay, he also had taste. He could only assume the boy was put off by the price tag. At last Blaine's presence was felt: the boy suddenly looked up at him in surprise and his cheeks reddened when their eyes met. He smiled timidly and immediately put the boots back on the shelf. Blaine could tell his young Adonis was about to walk away so he quickly put on his friendliest and most unthreatening expression of admiration to match the look of longing the boy had with the shoes.

He whistled lowly. 'Those are something else.' He stated. The boy paused and looked back at him, surprised and curious. Blaine smiled at him. 'You like them?'

At first the young man seemed too shocked to speak, as if he was not used to people speaking to him. Finally he noticeably swallowed and stuttered out 'Yeah.' He glanced back at his dream shoes and quietly continued 'But it'll take a whole years worth of my allowance to afford them.

Humming in consideration, the older man picked up one boot and took many moments to examine the body and material. His prey just stood awkwardly, waiting and watching. At last, Blaine looked back at him. 'What's your name?'

'Oh, Kurt, sir,' The boy answered quickly with a humble tone. Kurt... Not a name I would have chosen for him. Actually, it sort of suits him.

'Kurt, I want to buy them for you.' Blaine grinned.

Almost instantly, Kurt's expression changed from doe-eyed and nervous to downright suspicious. He took a small step back. 'And, uh, why would you do that?'

Blaine shrugged as if he was hiding absolutely nothing from the world. 'I guess I just like doing nice things for people.'

'Are you some kind of joker?' Kurt asked in pure seriousness, not fooled for a moment.

Damn, I hate it when they're like this... Blaine's face fell to sorrow and he issued a deep sigh. Shaking his head, he muttered 'That's sad. It's a sad, sad world when a guy's motives are questioned and doubted when he just wants to do something kind for someone else.'

He didn't dare look up and ruin his self-pitying image but it seemed his effort was not in vain. 'Look, I'm sorry, I just...' The boy shuffled uneasily onto each foot as his guilt-ridden voice delivered his reason, 'my dad always taught me that nothing comes for free. So...I just want to know what's in it for you.'

'I get it, your dad just wants to prepare you for a bad world, I get it.' Blaine went on to sigh again, he played with the boot in his hands and then appeared considerate. 'Well...I guess if you wanted to do something in return-'

'I knew it.' Kurt cut in, looking irritated. It was kind of hot. 'I knew you wanted something.'

With that he readjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder and began walking away towards the back of the store. 'Hey – wait!' Blaine called. He hurriedly picked up the other shoe and went after him. Kurt pretended he wasn't listening but Blaine was not one to be ignored. He dodged up ahead of the teen and cornered him up between a stack of sneakers and a cage of footballs. 'Look – I still really want to buy you these shoes, okay?' He insisted, presenting the boots again to Kurt as a bargaining tool.

Kurt acted like he had no more interest in them but he did stare just a second too long for Blaine to be taken in by the falsity. 'And what would you want in return? Hmm?'

'Photos.' Blaine replied bluntly.

'Photos?'

Blaine nodded. 'I-I just thought...you would look kind of...sexy in them. It would be my pleasure to give them to you. And if you were okay with it – and only if you were okay with it – would I ask to take just a few shots of you wearing them.'

Kurt looked stunned, then deeply embarrassed. He looked around as if someone might accidently overhear as he asked in a whisper 'Wait, do you mean...nude photos?'

Wearing his most affronted expression, Blaine pulled back in alarm. 'What? No! No, absolutely not!' Kurt was still staring at him with wide eyes. 'Just photographs of you relaxed – maybe with a drink and watching television – wearing the shoes. Here, I'll show you some of the others I've taken.' His hand delved into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a few candid shots of his previous 'models'. He flicked through them slowly, letting a curious Kurt take a good look at them. Innocent in nature, the photographs certainly helped Blaine's case. 'I sell them. If they do well I always give the models a cut of the profits.' Kurt perked up at that thought. Blaine then winked subtly at him, playfully nudging him. 'And trust me, with legs like yours, your photos will sell. Then you could buy all the shoes you want.'

Kurt initially seemed dumbstruck by the strangers flirtatious wink but the blush that spread out across his adorable face told of interest, flattery and – Thank God! - mutual attraction. Still not wanting to seem desperate, Kurt appeared to think it over carefully. Then he gave an awkward shrug and nodded vaguely. 'Okay...so where should we go?'


Blaine got his boy home. He had succeeded in similar stunts many times in the past but he had never felt such desire and excitement than he felt that particular evening. He watched with a small smile playing on his lips as Kurt continued to take in the apartment living room, from the aquarium by the window to his antique record player off in the corner. He then looked over to Blaine and shyly took a seat on the couch to wait for his host's instructions. Everything the boy did was endearing. He tucked hair behind his ear causing Blaine to imagine biting the newly exposed neck area. Kurt repositions himself on the cushion and Blaine licks his lips just thinking about straddling his hips, a hand keeping the boy's long and flawless throat pushed back against the headrest. Kurt smiled weakly at him and the gesture caused Blaine to get the ball rolling.

'I'm gonna grab a couple of sodas. Why don't you put on those new shoes, mmm?' Kurt nodded, reaching for the Macy's bag. Blaine strolled to his kitchen and fetched two cans of Coke from his refrigerator. Next, two tall glasses were partly filled with ice and the soda was poured in after. Finally, out came the pills. Blaine used a spoon to crush them into a small mound of white powder which was sprinkled into one glass and then stirred until it dissolved in the drink. Keeping note of which one was which, Blaine returned to the living room and placed his own glass on one table before supplying Kurt's.

The teenager was admiring his boots so much that he almost didn't notice Blaine's return. With a gleeful grin, Kurt accepted his drink and motioned with his free hand to his feet. 'Aren't they great? They're so comfy too!' He took a long sip of his coke.

Blaine looked just as pleased as he was, nodding in agreement. 'They're perfect. You have a good eye for that kind of thing.' His eyes wandered up from the shoes to Kurt's slender legs. They looked nimble and smooth even through the fabric of his pants. Kurt saw the stare and immediately closed up again, embarrassed by the attention. Blaine had been nothing but a kind and relaxing gentleman with him but he was still in the stranger's home having only met him an hour before. Blaine forgave his guests nervous reaction to his obvious undressing gaze. 'Well, I guess we should get started, huh?' Blaine started brightly. He moved off to his bedroom to collect his camera which he left on his bedside table. The body lying on the far side of his mattress was exactly where he had left it that morning and Blaine simply threw his blanket over its bare ass in a bored motion of preserving decency. He returned to Kurt.

'So...do you want me to do anything?' Kurt asked. He was anxious enough to have drunk almost half of his drink by then and Blaine grew excited at that fact, but tried not to show it. 'Like...pose or something?'

Blaine prepared his camera and shook his head. 'No, just...just relax. Look around. Look at me – just do what feels natural.' Kurt swallowed and turned to face him. Blaine held up the camera from the far side of the room. The evening had grown dark by now so the only light came from the lamps dotted around them. Eventually, Kurt became too shy and turned his gaze down to his fidgeting hands.

Click!

Blaine focused the lens on him.

Click!

The shots of the teen timidly sipping at his coke were very telling and Blaine was thankful only he was ever going to enjoy looking at these snaps. Still...these were not the real shots he was after. He appeared sympathetic to his subjects discomfort , putting aside the camera and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. 'We don't have to start now, I guess. How about a little TV until you feel looser?' Kurt didn't object, so the television was switched on and the remote was slid into Kurt's palm.

Typical to teenagers everywhere, Kurt chose the cheesiest comedy sitcoms to watch in order to relax. Blaine did not typically use his television set so did not know any of the programmes that distracted his boy from the situation. Still, the fact he was distracted was what really mattered. The small smile playing on his lips just would not let up. He stared, unabashedly admiring his new treasure and drawing ever closer to him. Waiting. Just waiting. The signs would show soon, he knew. Kurt had sipped the last of his soda about ten minutes before Blaine caught sight of the first clue. The brown-haired head fell back on its own accord, as if Kurt had momentarily fallen asleep and then startled awake again, but that was not due to sleep. Kurt's brows furrowed in confusion and he pulled himself up into a better seated position. More minutes passed. His eyes began to lose focus. He was blinking more, lids pressing against one another harder than usual trying to clear away the dizzy spells overcoming him. Blaine's smile dissolved into a smirk. He started to softly hum a song, bringing his fingers up behind Kurt's head to lazily delve his fingertips into his locks. Kurt gave a delayed flinch but otherwise did not react. As Blaine expected, his hair was featherlike to the touch and strands twisted around Blaine's knuckles against their will. He leaned in closer and examined Kurt's cheekbones. He wanted to stroke his cheeks but as he went to do so Kurt vaguely shook his head and turned away to look around the room again. This time, Kurt seemed unable to take anything in. By the time his eyes landed on Blaine, who had somehow moved incredibly close without his knowing, he squinted and blinked hard again.

Blaine stood up again, forcing himself away in order to snatch up his camera again.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

The camera snapped up shots of Kurt greedily by its owners hand. After throwing away his own t shirt, Blaine stalked around the room taking photographs from all directions and every angle, all the while gently palming himself through his pants as he enjoyed his toy draining of energy. He caught Kurt trying to change channel but his thumbs wouldn't work. Kurt, though, seemed only puzzled by his sloppy movements and didn't seem to possess the ability to be actually worried. Dazed and confused, unable to act. His host strolled behind the couch and stopped short directly behind the teen's swaying head. Lazily, Blaine drew a finger to Kurt's forehead and lightly tilted it back. Without much encouragement, Kurt's head fell back giving him a view of his whole face. Crystal blue eyes stared up into darkening hazel ones. Hands pressed against Kurt's cheeks as the older man lowered his lips and his voice to a seductive murmur. 'Kurt, could I take off your shirt? For some...overhead shots?'

It wouldn't have been surprising if Kurt hadn't really understood the request, but nevertheless he responded in a small, childlike voice 'Sure,'

The camera was settled down, then hands reached down to untuck Kurt's shirt from his pants. His fingers deftly flicked with deliberate slowness. With the little focus he still had, Kurt watched Blaine's face with vague wonder. The article of clothing was peeled off and dragged up and over his head then abandoned on the floor. Kurt's arms had been forcibly raised in the process and instantly dropped as if lifeless by his sides. The older man's hands ran up and down his creamy smooth chest, easing along his shoulders and massaging Kurt into a deeper daze. Kurt could barely keep his eyes open by the time Blaine circled him and bent down in front of his knees.

'You were right, Kurt,' Blaine coaxed Kurt's legs apart and shuffled closer so both his hands and his mouth could graze up his still-covered thighs. 'Those shoes are really beautiful...' Kurt's eyelids at last closed over and his head slumped over onto his shoulder. Blaine allowed him to slowly droop over until he was half-lying on the couch. Blaine's smirk widened and he lazily picked up one leg to yank off the boot on its foot. 'Look so good on you.' He dropped the leg with little care and picked up the other to do the same. The second boot thudded to the floor. 'But I think you could look better with less.'


Blaine must have lay with Kurt's unconscious frame for over an hour just doing nothing. Occasionally he would rearrange their bodies so that he was lying on Kurt's chest, then visa-versa. The faint heartbeat could have been his lullaby; his eyelids softly closing as if to beckon the glowing prospect of sleep. But there would be time for that later.

At last Blaine eased himself out of Kurt's limp arms and lay the body down flat on the couch, head propped up slightly by a single cushion. He disappeared from the room only to return moments later with his tool kit. Inside was an array of objects and various DIY equipment, but the one he selected was the biggest: an handheld power drill. He held the long thin body of the shank up to his eyeline and examined the point: as sharp as the day he purchased it. He gave it a few test revs and approved of its shrill sound and rapid drilling movements. His eyes flickered down towards Kurt.

Brown chestnut locks were smoothed apart as well as possible to expose a tiny area where the scalp could be seen just beside the right temple. After shifting himself closer, Blaine pressed his fingers hard to keep the hair out the way and the head steady. He started the drill, slowly bringing it closer to the spot on his victim's head.

Kurt did not even stir. Blaine was careful not to be too distracted by the beauty's unconscious adherence to his wishes. Don't wake up, gorgeous. Don't open those eyes. If you do...you'll feel the pain. I don't want you to feel pain, beautiful I want you to feel nothing...but me. Kurt's delicate lids remained still and not even a hint of a twitch disturbed his features as Blaine penetrated his head further. Blaine knew when to stop: First the blood, then the tissue, next the bone, at last the muscles and nerves. Jackpot. When he felt the drill easing up after the bone, he gently pulled the drill out and settled it on the ground. Job done. He pressed a kiss to Kurt's forehead as his fingers gingerly stroked the small circular wound. Blood came away with his fingertips but not as much as usual; he must have been extra careful tonight. Good, I need to take extra special care of him if I want him to last.

'You belong with me, now.' Blaine whispered into Kurt's deaf ear. He then kicked off his own shoes and dug his powerful arms under Kurt's body, hoisting him up to be carried to the bedroom.


'Excuse me,'

The voice came as such a surprise that Blaine nearly stumbled off his chair. He turned away from the window he was staring out of to look at the visitors who had entered the gallery without his notice. It was a man holding the hand of a small boy. The small boy, in turn, was clutching at his crotch in obvious discomfort. Blaine smiled. 'Sorry, I was miles away – how can I help you?'

The man motioned towards the child. 'I gotta live one here.' He replied gruffly, 'You gotta restroom he can use? This is a public building, yeah?'

Blaine stood up and smoothed his hands against his pants, his glasses (which he didn't need but certainly helped him look like the guiltless librarian type he was going for) jotting down from his nose requiring him to push them up again. He pointed over to the door at the other side of the long room. 'Just that single toilet stall. He's free to use that.'

The man tossed him an appreciative look and began urging the boy in the other direction. 'Go on, son, I'll wait here. Don't be long, now, your mom is waiting in the car.' The boy awkwardly waddled off and Blaine sat back down behind his desk which was bare except from the day's newspaper he had been looking through earlier. The gentleman turned back to him and looked like he might just wait there politely in silence – until he caught sight of the headline on the front page. 'Some sorry case we have in this town, huh?' He shook his head, before reading the headline aloud. 'Teenage Boy Suspected Kidnapping. This has to be – what? – the fourth kid this month?'

Blaine looked down at the newspaper as if only just noticing it. 'Oh?' He picked it up and made a point of looking at the photo taking up easily half of the page. Kurt Hummel, 17, local high school student. Blaine shook his head in sad disbelief. 'Incredible to think this happening in our own backyards. Terrifying.'

The man eyed him seriously. 'You'd best be careful,' he warned, 'From what I recall the second fella gone off the grid was twenty-five. If there's some crazy loose in the city he's looking for guys your age.'

Blaine swallowed and steeled his hardened gaze downwards. 'Don't worry about me, sir, I take care of myself.'

But the well-meaning gent was not deterred. He reached over and firmly took hold of Blaine's shoulder and the younger man looked up in hidden anger. 'Don't be so cock-sure, my boy! This kid – Kurt – he was a straight-A student. A smart one. According to his dad he wouldn't have wandered off into danger which means whoever got him probably did it somewhere the kid thought was safe!'

The small boy was returning now, looking greatly relieved and mildly bored having spent a few seconds walking by paintings that had no connection to his cartoons or comic books. He reached his father and tugged on his hand. Blaine nodded. 'You're absolutely right,' He agreed. 'I will be careful, more so than I normally am until police find out who's behind this.'

The man seemed satisfied with that response and cleared his throat proudly. Probably thinks he's saved my life or something... He and his son strolled out of the gallery leaving it empty and peaceful again. Blaine watched the exit door long after it had closed behind them, glaring at it though unsure why. He turned back to the window but not before taking the newspaper into his hands. He stared at Kurt's photo taken at what seemed to be a family wedding, though no one else made it into the edited frame. Such a smile... Could melt the hearts of stone-cold killers. He leaned back in his chair, a vague grin easing out across his face as he mused: With a smile like that, he was asking for it.


There were times Blaine was well and truly grateful he had no neighbours on the other side of his bedroom wall in the next apartment. That night was one of those times. Unable to control himself, he pummelled into the body beneath him with sweat seeming to pour off him and mix with the glistening perspiration of the still-unconscious Kurt. He growled in frustration as one of the legs he had propped up on his shoulders slipped off. That was the trouble with unresponsive bodies; no matter how incredible fucking them could feel, their limp limbs sometimes did not behave.

Blaine readjusted himself and Kurt, choosing instead to simply force the legs back, knees on mattress, and leaning on him for leverage. Such a position was potentially very painful for the one being fucked but, as Blaine had to remind himself, Kurt wasn't supposed to be able to feel pain anymore. He couldn't know for sure, though, until Kurt woke up but that was unlikely to happen tonight. For now, he'd risk hurting his sleeping beauty for the sake of the mind-blowing orgasm he was just moments away from achieving.

I'm so lucky I found you. God, baby, you are wonderful. So...tight, so hot, s-so right! His panting began wildly erratic and stars shot across his vision lighting up like fireworks. He came hard into the little pocket of Kurt's body that was only ever going to be touched by him. This ass was his, he knew. Those lips he was now kissing with furious passion were reserved only for his mouth, his skin and his cock. He wrapped his arms around the slim waist and pressed into him further as if willing their bodies to merge into one. There, he closed his eyes and waited, dazed, for his self control to come back to him. The body which had last taken up room on his bed was now in the tub in his tiny private bathroom adjoined to his bedroom. A twenty-two year old named 'Hunter' who had sealed his own fate when grinding into Blaine's hips in a nightclub a week and a half ago. Hunter hadn't lasted very long but that was due to his waking up during the drilling process. Blaine had given him enough drugs to take down an elephant but the young man must have taken so many drugs in the past he became somewhat immune to the extra-strong dosage. Surprisingly, he hadn't started to smell yet but Blaine knew he'd have to dispose of him sooner rather than later. Dispose of them like he had had to dispose of the others. Twenty nine, in all. Twenty seven within the last couple of years and two when he had been an inexperienced teenager himself. Those who had not survived the drilling process usually died via some other freak accident. Using Kurt as a security blanket to fight off the memories. He sniffed into Kurt's neck. The others...they left me. They weren't strong enough or they refused to stay alive for me, but you...you'll fight. You'll stay, won't you? I know you will. You're perfect; made just for me. Kurt's slow but steady pulse purred at him and instantly he felt better. And in need of a stiff drink or two.


Everything was such a mess. Nothing made sense and nothing had any shape or form to it; all he could see was misty white, darkened by an absence of light. The world swivelled around him even when he lay still, eyes open.

Get up.

Groggily, he tensed one part of his body but other than feeling a faint cluster of pain nothing happened. Where was he?

Get up!

A low moan escaped his lips, the sound of the voice in his head startling him up and suddenly he was on a floor. Unbeknownst to him, he was only wearing underwear and that underwear was not only clumsily put on but also backwards on his body. Such a trivial issue, though, would not have concerned him at that exact moment. While his mind tried to make sense of the blurriness, his legs wobbled straight and his feet succeeded in standing him up. The moment he was upright, he lost balance and half-deliberately stumbled into the shape of a door. The door was slammed open and he crashed onto the floor of this new room. A bathroom. Okay, now something made sense to him. He saw things. Objects that belonged in a bathroom yet he could not remember their names. He clawed up on the wall back onto his feet and held himself against it until he could manoeuvre himself around to look at the big water-holder that bathrooms have – the type you get into to wash – and was alarmed to see it was occupied.

Though filled with pure terror, the moan Kurt released was slow and queasy. He turned away from those eyes peering blindly back at him – skin not a normal colour and lips undefined against the paleness – and threw himself back into the room he came from. Who was that? What was it doing? Another fleeting moment of clarity hit and he understood the young man in the tub was dead. In near-hysteria, he bumped himself along the wall of this room – a bedroom? – and he stopped at a second door.

The following minutes were spent collapsing against various objects and pieces of furniture in rooms and halls he could not get clear in his spinning head. When he finally fell out yet another door and felt his skin react to a sudden drop in temperature, Kurt grew even more scared but also determined. He was going the right way. He took one last look behind him into the room he just came from: a living room. A burst of colour hit him hard in the form of another memory: Blaine. That was his name, the person who led him here. Flashes...photographs. Kurt couldn't remember anything else but a throbbing pain taking over his mind was more than enough to force him away. He fell back and then was lost in the air for an undefined period of time. Then he hit something. Stairs. Then the ground. He opened his eyes and saw streetlights. It was dark, and he was alone.

I need to get away... I need to get help...

He perhaps stumbled as far as thirty feet before blacking out in the middle of an alleyway.

The world came in and out of focus several times, each time Kurt was unable to grasp hold of it and fell back into his dark mental state. It was not until he heard voices did he make one final effort – a 'big push' – to break back into the realm of consciousness. He heard the voices come closer and he grew deeply afraid. Then he realised they were sounds of females, no, girls. He opened his eyes and his blurry, ever spinning vision came back. Through all the smog and disorientation he saw two faces; one was of a black girl with chocolate brown eyes, the other an Asian girl with never-ending long black hair. They were crouching over him. Despite still being unaware of their intentions, Kurt opened his mouth and fought to speak. At last, one word was uttered: help.


The shop clerk rang up Blaine's bill with no emotion in his elderly face. 'Eighteen forty-six.'

Blaine handed him a twenty after filling his brown paper bag with the cans of beer and various other items. 'Thanks-' He quickly read the name tag of the clerk. 'Christopher.' Christopher the shop keeper did not react at all and simply pressed buttons around the till and forked out change. The change went from the till to Blaine's hand to the little charity collection box placed on top of the counter. 'Every little helps, huh?' Blaine smiled, but the clerk walked away to re-arrange the cigarette packets. With his smile faltering, the young man picked up his groceries and left the store. The evening was still slightly warm but a cool breeze cutting around the corner made him grateful he took his jacket. He turned and began walking towards home.

In any other neighbourhood Blaine might have thought twice about using alleyways at night but there was an element of safety being regarded as the guy who would help you move furniture in and out of your home, pet your dog and donate to any cause that came to his door. People didn't really know him by name but his car was one of the few parked out on the main car lot that had never been vandalised. Still, he considered venturing up to the main street even just for a change of pace but as he went to do so he caught flashing lights of a cop car up ahead between Jensen Place and Lincoln Avenue. His heart beat harder and faster as he approached and then seemed to stop beating altogether when he saw that within the small group of people gathered in this particular alley was a boy he had believed to still be safely in his bed.

Two police officers were trying to settle down a dark skinned girl with a loud voice as a thinner Asian girl wrapped a police blanket around the small shivering and practically naked frame of the boy they had found. Kurt's eyes were unfocused and his mouth didn't seem to be able to produce anything other than vague sounds. His fingers looked like they might have been trying to reach for the blanket around him but all they succeeded in doing was tangling in the Asian girl's hair.

'What the hell do you mean?' The black girl snapped at the tiring officer who appeared to be in charge.

'He's drunk as a skunk; what do you expect me to do besides take him home?'

The girl put her hands on her hips and replied in a deliberately slow and agrivated tone 'Take. Him. To. A hospital.'

Blaine forced himself out of the spine-tingling horrified stupor he had been in and came forward. 'Hey,' he said softly, his eyes wide in vague surprise as if he was taking it all in for the first time. 'What's going on?'

The black girl narrowed her eyes at him, irritated by his intrusion as she was trying to get her point across, and the officer held up a hand to stop Blaine coming much closer. 'Sir, please move along. We're taking care of this. A drunk on the street.'

'He's not drunk!' The girl cried out angrily.

Blaine knelt down immediately and studied Kurt with deep concern. 'Yeah, he is. I'm sorry, officers, I'm a friend of his. It's my fault he stumbled himself out onto the street. Don't worry, I got him.' The Asian girl was reluctant to let Kurt go even when Blaine gently prised him from her arms. Kurt fell forward and his forehead landed on Blaine's shoulder.

The officer frowned. 'You know him?'

'Yessir.' Blaine replied, hoisting Kurt up and putting the boy's limp arm around his neck to help Blaine support him at his side. He quickly thought for a random name and the clerk's tag sprung to him. 'Christopher, his name is Christopher. We were drinking and I went out to get some more beer. I had no idea he drank so much. I'll get him back home straight away,'

At hearing Blaine's voice so close to him, Kurt groggily swung his head around and gazed up at the new person holding him. He stared in dazed confusion for many long moments before some form of recognition flickered across those glassy blue orbs. Immediately he moaned and his waist twisted around. Blaine had to grip Kurt's side tightly to avoid dropping him. Kurt now whined and his limp limbs stirred a little.

'Oh, hell to the no!' The black girl bellowed. She tried to forcibly take the half-naked boy back but Blaine cradled Kurt closer. Knowing she couldn't fight for him without risking Kurt falling and hitting his vulnerable head on the concrete ground, she whirled round to the police and pointed an accusing finger towards Blaine. 'Did you see the way he looked at him? He doesn't want to go with this guy!'

The officer was growing impatient. 'What's your name again?'

'Mercedes Jones.' The girl said with sudden properness and dignity.

'Yeah, well, Mercedes Jones, I'd like you to kindly head on home,' The officer stated bluntly, causing the girl to balk and her mouth to drop. 'We've got a handle on this.'

'I- You-!' Mercedes Jones stuttered out in anger, 'You have a handle on nothin'. This boy needs a hospital.' She threw Blaine a sneer as her eyes gave him a disapproving up-and-down look over. 'And this guy needs to leave the kid alone.'

'Please ma'am,' Blaine replied meekly. He readjusted Kurt's head so it was carefully tucked under his chin. 'Christopher just needs to sleep it off. He doesn't tolerate alcohol as well as he thinks he does.'

'The boy half-naked-!'

'Get outta here before I put you under arrest!' The officer snarled at once. He looked red in the face, his mind obviously developed its own reasons for why the young man apparently got drunk with a male 'friend' and took his clothes off. He did not seem to want to delve any further than the brief story he had and just wanted to move on to less queer disturbances. The black girl continued to argue but, as the policemen approached her reaching for their cuffs, she grudgingly backed off. The Asian girl who had been hovering by Kurt's shoulder gave the boy in Blaine's arms a regretful glance and took a few steps back as well. She took her friend by the arm and together they moved up the alley, all the while Mercedes shouted various statements of condemnation. The officer ignored them, instead turning to Blaine with his mouth in a very thin, straight line. 'We'll be escorting you back to your home.' He declared, though it was evident through his eyes that he certainly did not want to.


In all the time Blaine lived in his apartment, never before had his visitors numbered more than two at a time. In fact, rarely was there ever more than Blaine and one guest. Now, though, there were three other people in his living room and he felt it was unnecessarily crowded even in a spacious area such as this. He sat cross-legged, relaxed, in his antique armchair by the TV. Across from him, Kurt sat unconscious yet again on the couch, the blanket still wrapped around most of his body and his head drooped over the back of the headrest. One officer stood in the middle of the floor between them both, his hands firmly on his waist and his chest puffed out in what was probably an attempt at intimidation.

But Blaine was not necessarily scared of him – he was a porky man who no doubt moved at half of Blaine's speed – but he might have admitted some fear of the second, far more lean officer who was snooping around his kitchen area. There was nothing incriminating there, he knew, but if the officer extended his investigation to his bedroom...and then his private bathroom... Blaine's face masked any element of worry, though, as it typically did when he was so close to danger. To the world he had nothing to hide.

'So what were you two doing before this one decided to go wandering around close to naked?' The porky officer asked gruffly.

Blaine shrugged and considered the question for a moment. 'Nothing much. Watching a little TV, drinking-'

'Oh we know you've been drinking,' The officer interrupted, his tone sharp and oddly judgmental. He glanced to Blaine's grocery bag of alcohol and then to Kurt's vacant face and bare body. It didn't take much to guess what else he thought they had been doing. 'My question is: are you gonna drink any more tonight?'

Blaine shook his head and sighed tiredly. 'No, sir. I'm going to put Christopher here to bed and then I'm gonna watch a documentary I recorded last night.' The lie came so easily Blaine did not hesitate once. The officer stared him down and Blaine knew the drill: he bowed his head in apparent shame. Oh yes, shame on us queers for getting drunk and exposing ourselves, officer. We are, quite literally, the Devil's work. Blaine tried not to show his laboured breathing as the second officer drew closer to his bedroom door and reached out to push it open.

But his comrade had decided he had spent enough time in this queer apartment and suddenly said 'Alright.' Together the officers slowly made their way to the front door and Blaine hurried after them to politely open their way. The leaner of the two left and could be heard walking down the steps towards the street, but the other entered again to hold a warning finger up to Blaine's face. 'I won't report you this time, chump,' he told him, 'but if I come across the two of you again I'll be hauling you in.'

'You don't have to worry about that, sir.' Blaine nodded in understanding. He backed away towards the couch and reached back to pat Kurt's head lightly. 'We're gonna...we're gonna behave ourselves.' He then smiled sweetly. It was a risk as it was an antagonising expression to someone already riled, but luckily for him the officer merely sneered and closed the door behind him.

Blaine froze and listened to the retreating footsteps. He held his breath for a full ten seconds after the air fell into silence and then he quickly strode over to the door and locked it. His forehead rested against the wooden frame. He had no idea his heart had been pounding so hard these past twenty minutes. He was no stranger to close-calls but tonight had been far too close for him to handle. He swallowed hard, then turned to glare at the back of Kurt's head. With bitterness and venom he circled the couch and stood in front of the boy, who was somewhere close to consciousness but hadn't broken through the surface yet. He watched his head loll back and forth, the quietest of sighs escaping his lips.

Hands shaking in anger, Blaine roughly straddled him. The sudden weight on his thighs and hips caused Kurt to barely open his eyes and stare up. There was no emotion in those eyes, just pools of crystal blue. Not even their beauty could waver the fury which pulsed through Blaine's veins. His lip turning up into a sneer, Blaine brought his hands to Kurt's slender neck and fingers wrapped around tightly. Kurt's eyes jolted back into focus and he looked up in surprise, his mouth falling open. Blaine bit on the inside of his bottom lip, his hands shaking as they squeezed harder and harder, practically crushing the seventeen year olds windpipe in the process. His arms tensed violently and suddenly he was thrusting Kurt back onto the couch, yanking him forward and slamming him back again. Blaine let out a guttered gasp, letting all his anger flow out of him through his murderous hands. He couldn't stop.

How could you? How could you do that to me? You promised me you wouldn't leave – you were supposed to be different!

Kurt could not move to protect himself, unable to even struggle, and it did not take long for his eyes to roll back into his head.

All I wanted was to have someone to lie next to, to love and to admire but they kept on leaving me! I-I hate it when they leave. I hate it when there's nothing left. They know how they make me feel. You're perfect; you're supposed to be different. You can't leave me and you know it!

With new sweat dripping from his forehead, Blaine panted and forced his hands away from the neck. Kurt lay motionless. His chest was not moving. For a few long moments Blaine did not move, instead he just sat on the boy's hips and stared in frightened awe at what he just did. The air was too quiet and far to still. It was back to being just him again.

No- No, not again! I can't be alone! Not now, not after having you Kurt, please-!

His fingers pinching Kurt's nostrils shut and his lips locking over his, air from Blaine's lungs charging out and into the dead boy he could not live without. He gave as much as he could then pulled back for another intake of air which he quickly shared again. Kurt did not react. Tears of blind panic were forming now in Blaine's eyes and for the first time in his life he could not see anything beyond failure. The thought scared him and he knew he had to wake his beauty up. Another deep breath, then another, then another, then-

A strangled gasp for oxygen erupted from Kurt's open mouth and his eyes clenched together in strain. The boy coughed violently a few times and then took to breathing in hoarsely. Blaine did far more damage to his throat than he knew, but Blaine did not care: the older man instantly clutched the boy close to him, fingers digging into skin with such frightened passion that he might lose him again. Feverish kisses pressed into sweaty chestnut brown locks. Desperation flooded through both bodies like electric currents. Kurt passed out again after the briefest of periods, but Blaine was lost in his own turmoil. He hated it when he was alone. Being alone was something he was growing to fear. He fell onto the couch and brought Kurt closer to cradle him against his chest.

You left me. You left me but you came back. I brought you back. I'm not ready to lose you yet, Kurt. You're irreplaceable. You aren't like the others, Kurt, they all left. Don't be like them, baby, please. They keep trying to leave me. Don't try to leave me. Not until I'm finished with you.


A.N. Aaaaand done! Hope you liked it, though it's probably a little different to my usual. Please leave a comment or PM with your thoughts and requests!