A.N. Just going to completely avoid acknowledging the 14 month hiatus for this story and hope no one notices...
Usual Warning List: Bad language, sexual scenes, violence, distressing scenes - basically, if you've read this far then we should be good. :)
THIS STORY IS NOT ABANDONED - LIFE SOMETIMES TAKES OVER
The New and Improved Kurt Hummel
It didn't really hurt anymore. Surprising, really, considering how extensive the doctor had said the damage had become. The infection had spread further in the last few months, dragging Sebastian through an array of pain levels from excruciating agony to 'Hurts like a motherf-!'
Still, the pretty nurse's delivery of painkillers continued to run like clockwork every four hours. Sebastian didn't even try to ogle him anymore and the boy's fear of him was diminishing with every visit.
You're losing your touch; he used to be too scared to come in on his own.
Sebastian himself was partially to blame for the changes in attitude, but the real man at fault was Finn. Since causing a slight meltdown months prior, Finn had been breaking down walls during each annoyingly more amicable daily visit. At first, Sebastian had been resistant but then that grew too tiring. For the first time, he told the story of what happened the night Hunter Clarington died. In thanks for his honesty, Finn had shared details of the dead teen's burial and resting place, going as far as to sneak in a photograph of Hunter's last school picture from Dalton for Sebastian to have by his bedside. Of course, he didn't sleep much after Finn set it up: he spent many hours ignorant to the pain in his body just staring at the charming smile on that handsome face. Most of those hours were spent sobbing and blubbering out words of apology as if they could be heard.
This is so stupid. He's dead; he can't hear you. You had the time of your life doing whatever you pleased for years after he was killed – why do I feel like this now?
'You're grieving, dude,' Finn sighed, wincing as he did so. Before this topic of conversation began, he had been reading out crossword puzzle clues from a newspaper (an odd request Sebastian was now in the habit of making these days). He folded the paper over for the time being. 'That's what happens when you lose someone. Blaine didn't let you do it when he was around, so you're going through it now.'
Sebastian knew he was right, but had not lost enough of his personality or attitude enough to vocally agree. 'When you first brought in his picture,' he began, head resting on his pillow and his eyes still firmly fixed on the photo frame, 'I didn't think I'd be able to cope. I thought I'd have flashbacks more often. But now...' He paused to bite his lip, his grey-white face scrunching up in vague confusion. 'I don't know how I survived without him watching me.'
'Watching over you, you mean,' Finn quipped in.
Sebastian made a short sound, neither clearly confirming or denying. 'For years when I heard of people wanting to go visit the graves of family or friends, I thought 'Why? No one is there. It's just a name on a bit of stone and a muddy patch of ground. A hollow reminder of pain. The person you're looking for isn't there and it's stupid to think they are'. But now I kinda get it. I want to visit the gravestone. I want to touch his name and talk to him like I do his picture.' It didn't take a genius to guess why Finn kept quiet: they both knew Sebastian would never see that grave. Hell, it was unlikely he would see outside the prison hospital again, never mind the likes of Ohio again.
Sebastian hadn't quite realised that he had been floating around in bitter clouds for so long. That was the trouble with all this 'dying shit', as he now callously called it: as more time passed he became weaker and weaker but painstakingly more grounded and aware. In addition to confronting his long-buried agony over Hunter, he also had to face the fact that Finn had somehow gained a smidgen of his trust when he began guiding him by the hand through the hurt. Sebastian still planned to tell Finn what he wanted to know – the whereabouts of Blaine and Kurt on one specific calendar date – but it would be a lie to say he hadn't almost let it slip out early when he felt a surge of compassion. He would pretend it was because Finn might stop coming to see him once he knew, but secretly he knew it to be wrong. The real reason was that if Finn knew too early, he might just destroy his own chances of saving Kurt and for some crazy reason Sebastian hoped he might actually be successful. Perhaps Finn had gained more than just his trust.
'You haven't really told me about your own future,' Sebastian commented, wanting to change the subject, 'Whole life ahead of you – what's your plans?'
'I have told you,' Finn disagreed, holding out the dying man's drink for him to sip through the straw. 'Finding Kurt is my only goal, it'll always be my future until he's safe.'
After taking a grateful drink, Sebastian made dismissal motions with his cuffed hands. 'Okay, okay, sure but what if you found Kurt, would you go to college?'
Finn pondered on it and then shrugged. 'Yeah, most likely. I had a really cool teacher at McKinley so I've thought about being a teacher if I can't play football anymore. People change as they grow so maybe one day I'll be a sports writer, or a mechanic, or – I don't know – an award-winning chef like you see on the TV. I'd like to be paid to eat.'
He laughed at the thought but stopped soon after realising that at some point tears had formed in Sebastian's eyes. Staring up at the ceiling, silently weeping, Sebastian thought about his own life choices. 'I wish I had gone to college,' He confessed quietly. 'I was smart. I could have done anything if Blaine... I mean, what if he hadn't chosen our house that night? I would have graduated college and had a few years of climbing the corporate ladder under my belt. I would still be with Hunter, I know it. We might have got married. Maybe not. Hunter wanted kids too. Maybe we'd be googling how to adopt. God knows they would have had to give us a kid who already had a name because we could never agree on what we'd call our future dog when we talked about getting a place together.'
Once again, Finn just stayed quiet and listened. His head was bowed slightly, a sad frown on his face.
'Shit, Finn,' Sebastian laughed as he cried, at last looking over at his visitor with wide eyes. 'I'm scared. I-I'm scared my body is failing. I'm scared of dying. No...I'm not scared of dying, I'm scared about what's going to happen after I die. I keep telling myself the sooner death comes, the sooner I can be with him again.'
Finn gave his best attempt at a smile. 'I think that about my mom. I don't know what happens after we die, but I picture her just waiting for me on the other side. Smiling. Telling me everything is okay-'
'But what if he doesn't want to wait for me, Finn?' Sebastian's voice broke, his face now thoroughly wet and in anguish. 'What if he isn't there?'
Ding – dong!
'Smile, baby, just like we practiced.'
Kurt immediately did as he was told. The smile to which Blaine was referring was the 'Lost Toddler' smile – one which Blaine struggled to pull off convincingly but Kurt had the advantage of looking like a small worried child naturally. Big eyes, nervous and mere moments away from breaking out into tears – that will melt anyone's heart. No one will turn us away with those baby blues of yours.
Well, that was about to be tested.
The front door of house number 1109 opened and a warm swirl of air met Kurt's cheeks. The house smelled of sandalwood mixed with roast beef. Clearly it was dinner time at this particular household. The man greeting them at the door looked between the two young strangers in front of him with suspicious concern. 'May I help you?'
'Hi, sir, gosh I am so sorry we bothered you. Are you eating? Gee, I really am sorry.' Blaine's torn face matched his regretful words. 'Our car broke down.' He motioned behind them to the car they rented just a town over. 'We thought we would make it home and call a mechanic before church tomorrow but it gave out. We were hoping to use your phone to call my breakdown company.'
'Joe, who is it?' Called a woman from inside. A few seconds later, the lady in question appeared by her husband wearing an apron and immediately cast a sympathetic look towards Kurt.
'I'm so sorry to bother you, ma'am,' Blaine winced, his typical strong tone now meek and full of despair. 'We broke down and we're just looking for a phone. Gosh, I hate that we interrupted their dinner,'
Kurt took that as his cue to nod and issue an apology of his own. 'I feel awful. We would have walked to the nearest pay phone but we don't know the area and its so cold tonight.'
Looking put out, the man huffed 'Yes, it is very cold,' His words were a clear accusation that his warm house was now losing heat thanks to Blaine and Kurt, 'Just wait a minute, I'll get you our phone.' He began to shut the door over
'Joe!' His wife snapped, embarrassed. She then hissed at her husband in a quick and hushed frenzy behind the door as if that would in some way stop her being overheard. 'A real Christian does not leave those in need outside in the cold. Invite them in. That boy looks ready to collapse.'
Blaine nudged Kurt in a wordless 'well done', but otherwise remained fixated on looking guilt-ridden and distressed. When the red-faced husband opened the door again, he grumbled for them to come inside. Kurt followed in after Blaine and got ready to take direction, as he had been doing flawlessly for the last few weeks.
It had only been a matter of months since Kurt had killed that man on his own, but it seemed like a lifetime ago now. The feeling of self-hate, nausea and unending inner torment was a memory he thought of a lot but could not quite make himself experience it again. Blaine told him not to, so he didn't. It was simple, really. Once Blaine's voice became louder than his own inside his head, orders were fairly easy to follow. He hardly ever heard his own thoughts anymore, and even then he felt the need to check with Blaine that they were right.
For the first few moments of standing in the hallway, Kurt watched Blaine's right hand like a hawk. It took a little while longer than usual but at last Blaine gave his orders by pointing three fingers downwards. It was so casual looking and only lasted half a second but Kurt saw it and knew what Blaine wanted him to do after his brief consideration of the inside of the house. Three. That means I'm on isolation duty. Cut off outside world. Wait for his cue.
'I can't thank you enough,' Blaine was gushing, 'But I still feel awful. That delicious smell in the air – you were having dinner.'
'No, dinner is still a few minutes off. I've still to call down my daughter.' The woman waved off his concerns and returned her attention to Kurt. ' Honey, you look freezing. Are you feeling alright?'
'No, ma'am,' Kurt answered honestly. Blaine caught his eye and quickly tilted his head in the direction of the stairway. Knowing what he had to do, Kurt swallowed. 'May-May I use your bathroom?'
The husband looked irate at the request but the lady nodded and kindly motioned to the door halfway down the hall. Kurt thanked her and was just closing the bathroom door behind him when Blaine was being handed a landline telephone. He closed the door as softly as he could. A slight squeak with the turning of the knob but otherwise no noise. Back in the hall, Blaine was making a show of calling up some breakdown service on the telephone and was using his expert acting skills to seamlessly wander into the nearby living room. The footsteps of both the man and woman exiting the hall after him was heard even from behind the door. When Blaine's fake phone call voice grew fainter, Kurt knew it was now safe to come back out and get to work.
Stealthfully, he crossed the hallway and locked the front door, taking the key with him. He then tip-toed to the rear of the house and did the same with the back door. He took a moment to examine the windows: none were big enough for an adult to squeeze through, even if their life depended on it. With perhaps only a minute's grace period, Kurt located the power box inside the pantry and snipped every wire with the pliers he had hidden in his jacket's inner pocket. For final measure, he took out the little device Blaine liked to call the 'Blackout Box' – an appropriate name for the little piece of machinery which would interfere with all electronic signals and effectively render any technical lifelines completely useless. Kurt activated it inside the pantry and took a moment to brace himself for what was soon to come before entering the living room.
'Feeling any better, honey?' the wife asked, motioning for him to come sit down on the couch beside her. Kurt did not pick up on the fact that the last time women displayed such motherly concern for him had been Carole and Aunt Jenny. No, he did not think that at all. The Blaine inside his head shot that idea straight in the heart. That's why it hurt so much.
'Yes, thank you,' Kurt said politely. He looked to Blaine as he finished up with his fake phone call.
'They said they'll send someone right away but it'll be another twenty minutes at least.' Blaine announced, setting the phone down behind him so that neither homeowner would notice that the screen was not only blank but also void of power. His eyes met Kurt's and then teen scratched his ear. It's done. Isolation duty is finished. Blaine smiled. 'Thank you again for your help, but let us get out of your way. We can wait in the car.'
Once again, the husband looked ready to be rid of his unwanted guests but his wife would hear nothing of the kind. 'Don't be silly, it's cold out there and it's warm in here. Come eat with us, we have plenty of f-'
'Mom!' Shouted an angry voice from upstairs. 'The wifi isn't working – fix it! I was video chatting!'
The woman pursed her lips in anger. 'Sorry, that's my ungrateful daughter. We lost her and her humanity the moment she discovered social media.' With that, she stood up and left for the hallway. 'It'll fix itself. Besides, dinner is ready so come downstairs. And don't you dare bring your cell phone – the cyber world will cope without you.'
Blaine laughed as though it were all a situation comedy. The husband gave a strained smile and reluctantly guided his unwanted guests through to the kitchen table. 'So,' he began gruffly, 'where were you coming back from? You didn't say.'
Kurt knew to let Blaine handle this. He handled most things as Kurt was still learning. 'Didn't I? Well, we were on our way back from a choir rehearsal our pastor organised. Out in the middle of nowhere but beautiful. It's just a shame we got lost.'
The woman entered the room carrying trays of food. 'Choir?' She repeated, her eyes shining in excitement. 'Are you both singers?'
Kurt felt his left eye twitch as a brief flash of a memory took him by surprise. Had he dwelt on the image he might have remembered the McKinley choir room but he didn't. 'Yes, ma'am. Tenor and countertenor.'
'We're performing next week in Jackson.' Blaine added, politely whipping a napkin over his lap. Kurt followed his example, albeit more clumsily. 'If you were free, I'm sure we could get you front row seats. It's the least we could do considering your hospitality.'
His lies were as smooth as silk and the lady of the house practically swooned at the idea. 'Oh, that sounds wonderful, doesn't it Joe?' Her husband didn't even pretend to find the prospect of a choir performance appealing. 'Perhaps if your car takes a while to be fixed or towed, you might have time to give us a preview.'
Blaine and the woman laughed merrily and traded other mindless pleasantries. Kurt took the opportunity to steel his nerves and focus on the week's lessons: frightened animals lash out so be prepared for wild swings. Judging the couple's physiques, there was little to be concerned about but Kurt had been overwhelmed by similar 'non-threats' before, calling for Blaine to stop what he was doing to help. Kurt knew better than to inconvenience Blaine like that again.
'What is taking that daughter of mine so long?' The woman suddenly asked. She stood and walked to the doorway to call upstairs. 'Carmen, come down now - the food is getting cold!' Within seconds, Kurt could hear the sound of trudging footsteps from above move to the stairway. A typical teenager, the girl dragged her feet and stomped unnecessarily. Her mood was no doubt unaided by Kurt's killing of her wifi and connectivity. When she stepped into the kitchen, her sour face confirmed Kurt's presumption. 'Carmen, these young men have run into some car trouble. Isn't that awful? They're joining us for dinner, though, and we may be able to convince them to sing a song or two!' The wife turned to Blaine, 'I keep telling her to join our church's choir but she calls it 'uncool' – can you believe that?'
But Blaine nor Kurt paid their generous host any attention – something had just changed. The girl had frozen in place by the door, her eyes wide and her expression perplexed. She stared at Kurt as if he were a puzzle she had to solve. Kurt's apprehensive gaze flickered to Blaine. His 'mentor' had noticed but displayed nothing but calmness. Silently, he slipped the napkin from his lap and folded it neatly before placing it back on the table. We would not be breaking bread with this family tonight after all. The main event had been moved up. With the girl's eyes growing more concerned and her body beginning to turn away – body language, Kurt: it tells us more than words ever could – the serial killer-in-training understood what he was seeing in her eyes was recognition.
'You...' The girl pointed an accusing finger at Kurt. 'You're the guy. You're the lost guy.' Her parents looked affronted at their daughter's apparent rudeness. 'The boy from Ohio everyone's looking for.'
Kurt's cheeks grew pink. At least she did not look scared. She didn't understand what was happening. Until she looked at Blaine. Immediately, her mouth formed a horrified 'O' shape and she grabbed at her mother's wrist in an attempt to pull her back. 'For goodness sake, Carmen – what are you talking about?' Her mother demanded, torn between anger and confusion.
'Please, let me explain,' Blaine winced in apology as he stood up. He motioned to the girl. 'I'm afraid your daughter is familiar with my friend here.'
'You're the killer!' The teen cried and hurled her accusing finger towards him. 'Mom! C-call the police-!'
'What the hell is going on here?!' Now the father was rising from his chair.
A nod. That's all. One nod from Blaine – a barely noticeable tip of the head – and Kurt had his order. It was a shame the table was set already. In one rapid motion, Kurt's fingers gripped the knife handle by his empty plate and powered it into the father's throat. His eyes remained on Blaine for approval but he knew he had struck well when the hot blood sprayed onto his entire arm.
A strangled scream of horror erupted from the gracious woman as she watched her husband stumble backwards over his chair, the knife still lodged straight through his neck and the tip protruding out the other side.
'Good boy.' Blaine uttered, petting his lover's clean hand. He then slid out his chair and caught the lady as her legs gave way. 'Hey, there - watch you don't break an ankle, ma'am.' The woman was unable to move or make a sound, but her daughter bounded on Blaine's back screaming her throat raw. Kurt remained in his seat and slowly looked down at his hands – one white and cold, the other crimson and hot. A casual back-swing from Blaine sent Carmen crashing into the kitchen counter. 'Kurt, I'll take momma bear. You want to take the girl?'
Blaine's thoughtful tone may have made his words sound like a suggestion but Kurt had not yet earned the right to have options. He knew his task was to kill the teenage daughter. He figured that since he had begun bold with a knife to the neck, he would be permitted to resort to the cleaner and more merciful gunshot. He retrieved the handgun from beneath his shirt as the girl made for Blaine again. However, at hearing the exchange and seeing Kurt's new long-ranged weapon, the girl stopped and then made a feverish dash out into the hallway. Awkwardly, Kurt stepped over the gurgling man beside him and had to use the kitchen table for support as he slid on the growing puddle of blood. Blaine began having his fun with the woman as Kurt left the room. The pounding of footsteps above alerted him to the fact the girl was now upstairs, no doubt having tried the locked front door first. Ignoring the memories of being on the other side of the situation, Kurt figured the kid would be looking for an escape route via a window. Once on the upper floor, he listened carefully. Following the sound on panic, he chose the second last door on the right. At first, it seemed jammed: the girl had put something in front of it but in her frenzy it was not fixed well. With a couple of shoulder slams, Kurt tumbled into the bedroom just in time to see the girl's pony tailed hair disappearing beyond the window frame.
Running to the window, Kurt considered climbing out after her but then examined the back garden properly: aside from trying to climb the high fences on either side in hopes of finding a neighbour – unlikely as the girl would no doubt hurt herself dropping from the roof and be unable to hoist herself up that high – her only escape would be from the gate at the far end of the garden. Kurt cocked his gun and waited. As expected, the girl swung from the gutter railing and let out a pained gasp on landing. She then took off as fast as she could hobble to the gate. Kurt took aim.
Shoot.
Kurt didn't move.
Shoot now. The smaller the target is, the harder it'll be to ensure the hit.
Kurt's finger seemed to be frozen in place, aching each time he tried to bend it against the trigger. It ached so hard his entire arm was throbbing, hands quivering.
Kurt, what's wrong with you? Shoot her! You know you don't have a choice!
The girl reached the gate and threw it open. Her hobbling had improved to a steady run in the final steps, and Kurt realised his best chance was gone. Blaine's face flashed before his eyes, it was like he could feel those hazel eyes on him. He gulped. With a jolt, he pulled the trigger.
The girl screamed and fell face first onto the grassy knoll past the gate. At first, Kurt thought he had got her calf as her legs immediately went rigid-straight and she arched back as if to get as far from the wound as possible. However, her actions caused her to choke and retract. Her sweater now had a hole in it. In uneasy amazement, Kurt marveled at his shot. Now all he had to do was fire once more whilst she was a sitting duck on the ground – and he was already aiming.
But this time not even the piercing fear which normally 'did the trick' could make him move. His hands shook uncontrollably. Perhaps only mere seconds later, the girl was able to see him through her tears and made the intelligent decision to roll out of his view behind the gate. The last he saw of her was the sight of her pony tail barely skimming the tips of the fence as she half-ran, half-dragged herself into the evening darkness.
Kurt continued to aim his gun where she had lay for another minute.
Behind him, Blaine watched from the bedroom doorway.
'I'm sorry.'
As he indicated left at the intersection, Blaine frowned and furrowed his eyes. 'Sorry? For what?' His voice was absentminded as he concentrated on traffic.
Kurt continued to look down at his clammy clasped hands. 'I'm sorry the girl got away. You're not supposed to let anyone live in the games, and because of me she's probably in the police station right now.'
'Kurt – no,' With his focus now shifting to his driving companion, Blaine shook his head and pulled their car up by the pavement. He shut off the engine, unbuckled his belt and turned to face Kurt properly. 'I'm not mad at you.' Kurt swallowed, not believing his words. Blaine's frown deepened and he tore Kurt's clasped hands apart in order to hold them in his own. 'Baby, look at me.' With some reluctance, the young man complied. He always did nowadays. With a firm stare, Blaine said 'Don't beat yourself up over it. I'm counting tonight as a win, even if the girl got away. We're still in partial training, Kurt; it's okay if one slips off the hook every now and then. You know what I'll remember tonight for?' Kurt bit his lip and shook his head. Blaine smiled. 'The way you swung that knife into that guy's neck. You didn't even look, baby! You know how impressive that is? That was a blind one-strike kill!'
To his credit, Blaine did look incredibly pleased. Kurt forced a small smile in return. No, not forced, Kurt. There's no need to force. You can smile. Go on. Sometimes smiles aren't supposed to feel natural. 'You...you're sure you aren't disappointed in the girl?'
Blaine waved his hand. 'Tonight was good. It was successful. You impressed me. And we've got some new things to start working on.' Kurt nodded as he spoke but his nodding faltered slightly at the last comment. Blaine put on his 'business face'. 'You kill well, Kurt. But your heart...' He chuckled lightly and leaned over to kiss Kurt's lips. 'Your sweet heart. It still isn't letting you enjoy the art of killing. Think about driving,' Blaine turned to the steering wheel and stretched his arms out to grip it with careful fingers. 'When you're just setting out and getting to grips, driving a car is terrifying. There's no way you can be happy when you keep making mistakes. But then you pass your test. Keys in hand and the open road in front of you… It's so freeing, so exciting. Mistakes don't mean anything because you love the feel of the wheel at your fingertips and the roar of the engine as it does exactly as you command.' His eyes looked back to Kurt and his hands soon found his cheeks. 'Playing the games. Killing. You can do it so well now, baby, but it's all a waste if you don't.' Kiss. 'Learn.' Nip. 'To savour it.' With that, Blaine's lips urged Kurt's open and his tongue swept inside his mouth to taste him.
Kurt wasn't sure if it was the warmth of Blaine's hands or his mouth, but suddenly he felt overheated. He couldn't quite figure out if it was a good or bad thing. A hand was now ghosting up his neck and onto his jaw. It was clear Blaine was a little distracted by the kiss itself as he suddenly jerked firm and broke their lips apart, but he pressed their foreheads together. 'I'm s-still...sorry.' Kurt mumbled.
Blaine laughed silently and closed his eyes. 'I love you, Kurt. Don't ever apologise for making progress.'
A minute later, they were on the highway driving back to their current home. He managed to hold on to contentment for a full twenty seconds before his mind began to wander. It wandered to a theoretical police station across town in which a teenage girl would be half-screaming, half-crying her testimony to alarmed police officers.
In reality, the teenage girl was actually in a hospital the next town over. It was the closest one to where she had been picked up by the seventh car which had passed her. With blood pouring out of her sweater and her unsteady steps, many had been too afraid to stop. In fact, the elderly couple who had pulled over to check her well-being had not been aware of any injuries until their question 'Miss, do you need a ride?' had resulted in the teen throwing herself at their vehicle wheels.
Horrified and panicked, they had dragged her into the backseat and drove a few miles above the speed limit – something unheard of to the elderly couple before then – until they got to the emergency room. They could answer no questions about what was wrong, and the girl was going in and out of consciousness and was therefore little help herself.
By the time two officers and one detective arrived, the doctors knew her fate. Minutes. This girl has minutes.
In her waning state, the girl gave her one and only statement. 'The boy…the one from Ohio. Kidnapped.. Serial killer-'
'The kid from Ohio who was kidnapped by the serial killer? He's still alive?'
The girl's face contorted into one of intense anguish. 'He killed my dad!' She screamed. 'When I recognised him…he-he just did it. He's a killer now. Two of them…'
The nurses in the ward took turns sitting with the girl's body once she was gone.
Police officers swarmed the family's home, forewarned by the girl's depiction what scene would greet them. For several hours, they collected evidence, analysing every detail and putting forward their own slant on the events in order to exonerate Kurt Hummel in the crime. There had to be a way of clearing him of any wrongdoing. They had a multitude of police reports up and down the country in which surviving witnesses would claim the Lima teen was forced to harm or even kill by his kidnapper. All reports mentioned the boy pleading for an alternative, being emotionally distraught and being punished in return. However, the story told by tonight's final victim had no such redemption notes. And upon examining the crime scene and receiving early forensic evidence, there was no angle to look at it from other than the terrifying truth: the missing Kurt Hummel was now acting in harmony with his kidnapper. He was a murderer.
Before FBI and other government agents could get to the scene, news had broken out. The media had the 'shocking twist' on every morning paper, news anchor's teleprompter and the lips of thousands within hours.
'Bullshit!'
Sebastian jerked awake and for once the wave of nausea was not the first thing he noticed. The room light was switched on but Sebastian did not see which prison hospital employee was responsible because his attention was on the towering Finn Hudson by his bedside. Alarmed, Sebastian blinked himself fully awake and tried in vain to sit up. The fury and upset on his visitor's face told him something was very wrong.
'This is bullshit, Sebastian – What the fuck is going on?!' Finn yelled down at him.
The officer at the door hesitated, clearly unsure of whether he should be removing Finn or offering to take his coat so he could sucker punch Sebastian right in the gut, which Finn looked like he really wanted to do. But he wouldn't. With that knowledge, Sebastian subtly waved a dismissive hand at the man at the door and the door was shut quietly.
Now alone with Finn, Sebastian schooled his surprised expression to one of vague interest. 'What are you talking ab-'
'This!' Finn threw a newspaper onto his lap but Sebastian couldn't make out any words, only the picture of Kurt's face printed on the front page. 'They're saying he's a murderer!'
'You know he killed those people before-' Sebastian grumbled, still finding his voice after being rudely awoken.
'No, they're now saying he's just like Blaine. They're saying he killed a guy. Knife in the throat. No prompting, and he chased after a girl. Shot and killed her. It's not true – why would they print that?' Sebastian sat in silence. 'Why? Kurt wouldn't do it unless he was being forced but they're making it out like he's in on the whole thing now. The police are now out to arrest! They're putting him as the villain and he's not-!'
'He is, Finn,' Sebastian broke in, shutting up his visitor with his fury-inspiring words. He steeled his gaze as best he could under his health circumstances. 'I told you this would happen. Blaine wanted him as a killer companion. He broke him and he's built up something that isn't Kurt anymore.' Finn's mouth opened to argue. His fists balled up and his skin became redder and blotchier. 'I'm sorry, Finn.' And his honest words took them both by surprise. Sebastian frowned sadly. 'I'm sorry.'
Finn was frozen in place for several seconds, then he fell back into his usual chair. His face now was as white as snow and his body began to shake. 'I…I don't understand.' With anger now transpiring into emotional despair, he looked half his normal size. 'Kurt wouldn't…'
'You're right,' Sebastian nodded grimly. 'Kurt wouldn't. Not the Kurt you know. But the Kurt you know isn't there. Blaine's created someone different.'
It had been a long time since Sebastian had seen Finn cry. A very long time. In recent months, it had been Finn watching Sebastian cry as he finally confronted his past with Hunter. Now, as the tables seemed to turn yet again, Sebastian lay in turmoil as the young man he had hated broke down onto the cold dank floor of the prison hospital. Sebastian wished he was free from the handcuffs surrounding his wrists trapping him to the bed frame and for once it was not to escape or cause harm: he wished nothing more than to be able to wrap his arm around the giant's shoulders and comfort him.
I knew this would happen… I knew Blaine could do it. I just hoped I would be wrong.
With a painful swallow, Sebastian closed his eyes and mentally calculated the number of days left on his countdown. Was it still possible to make a difference? With recent…changes, would Finn still have a chance? Still so many days to go…what if it was already too late?
'Finn, get up.' Sebastian said so firmly that the sobbing Finn stifled his cries long enough to look up. 'Go get a pen and paper or some shit – and get me water while you're at it because I'm gonna talk a lot and you're going to want to get every single word down on paper, do you understand me?'
Blood was so much harder to remove from skin if it wasn't washed off straight away. It was a lesson Kurt was learning these days. Once they had got home the previous night, it was well after midnight and he had been too exhausted to remind himself of the hell he would go through by falling straight into bed. Now, in the light of day, Kurt was feeling regret as he faced the fact his skin was destined to be stained for a while.
He stepped under the flow of water from the shower head and let the warm droplets douse his raised face. He rubbed at his skin but the scarlet remains of last night's blood was determined to resist a simple shower. He recalled an injury Finn had experienced during one of his football games: a busted-up nose. Barely noticing the pain, Finn had continued playing until the game was won and only then did he remove his helmet and begin complaining. His mother, Carole, had taken him back to their home where Kurt watched her dig around her first aid kit before rubbing a cotton ball soaked with a cleansing solution on the red mess that was Finn's face. Fortunately, his nose wasn't broken and it only took about ten minutes to have him looking as good as new. At first Kurt pondered on what Carole had used – perhaps he could buy it somewhere to speed up his own cleansing process? – but his thoughts then became focused on his mind's memory of that night a couple of years ago.
Kurt could recall the orange-yellow light from the overhead lampshade, the honey coloured checked-designed of the kitchen tiles and the frayed 'GO TEAM!' hoodie Carole had been wearing. But yet…Finn. Kurt paused in his scrubbing and his brows furrowed together. Finn…
What… What did he look like? What does he look like?
Stunned, Kurt put a hand up against the wall panel. Surely, he couldn't have just forgotten what his brother looked like. That would be impossible. Biting his lip and mentally telling himself that – of course – there's no way he had forgotten. He's a big guy. Dark brown hair. Brown eyes. Giant head. Goofy grin. Gangly. Around six foot three inches. A little under two hundred pounds. A little podgy in areas. Strong. The words were true but when Kurt tried to fit them together into a real memory…
Why can't I see him?
Beginning to get angry at himself, Kurt closed his eyes, bowed his head and repeated his description aloud. 'Finn Hudson.' He murmured. 'Big guy. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Giant head. Stupid, goofy grin. Gangly. Six feet three inches tall-'
'Baby? What are you saying?'
The sudden arrival of Blaine, who was stepping into the shower by the time Kurt turned around to face him, did not fill Kurt with the same fear which may have months ago. Instead of being worried of Blaine's reaction, Kurt immediately blurted out the reason for his upset. 'I can't remember what Finn looks like.'
Blaine's naked skin began to catch their own droplets of water as he stepped close enough to wrap his arms around Kurt's waist. 'Why are you thinking about Finn?' His question was asked in curiosity, not irritation.
'I was just thinking about the blood staining,' Kurt rambled, vaguely indicating towards his still very-stained skin, 'A-and I thought about the time Finn got himself hurt but now I can't picture his face and I'm starting to get a headache just trying to remember-'
'Shh, shh…' Blaine took hold of Kurt's damp head and silenced his words with a kiss. Kurt's speaking ceased. With a small smile of comfort, Blaine continued, 'Baby, you don't ever need to think about him again. Don't go down that road. Finn shouldn't exist. He's a past character – he doesn't matter anymore. You need to focus on your new life.' He paused. 'Our new life.'
Kurt didn't move for a few moments. He stood, one part of him still trying to fight through the cloud hiding Finn's face from him and the other carving Blaine's words into his brain as if they were gospel truth. Eventually, he nodded. 'Yeah… You're right, I'm sorry.'
'I don't want you to think about what happened before we met. I don't think about my life before you. You are my everything, my future. And I'm yours.'
Kurt nodded. 'You're mine.'
Blaine smiled but then a flicker of concern crossed his face. 'Kurt… You like how your life is now, right?'
Kurt immediately looked into Blaine's eyes. 'Yes,' he said with resolute. 'Of course I do.' His admonition was repeated in his head as well, and the phrase I am happy now swirled, weaving around every inch of his consciousness. If it didn't, he might not be able to believe it. Blaine's smile returned and Kurt felt comfort. He enjoyed pleasing Blaine, especially now when it was getting easier to do. They were a partnership, after all. 'I'm sorry for thinking about the past. I only need to be thinking of the future.' That statement pleased Blaine even more, resulting in the dark-haired man's hands gripping Kurt's rear tight enough to lift him up and press him against the shower wall. The water above poured down on them and steam began to form inside their enclosure. Blaine's lips were fixed firmly on Kurt's and his wet hands slid easily from the younger man's ass down his thighs to urge them open. Kurt's body obeyed and his legs automatically wrapped around the toned waist pressing into him. His hand blindly grasped for the shower glass edge, and he used his leverage to tilt his hips to give his lover better access to his goal. Blaine had not been noticeably hard in their short discussion but, as Kurt's free hand dug nails into his back, the golden skinned Adonis's member was upright and licking its head against Kurt's ass. They hadn't had sex in almost twelve hours and the dry spell was noticeable: Blaine's hands slipped up to Kurt's hips to rub the smaller frame against himself and a guttural groan spilled into Kurt's mouth. The boy moaned in response, knowing what a good boy would do next. He rapidly jerked his hips into Blaine in body language saying I'm ready, you don't need to wait. Blaine needed no such assurance. After a couple of firm strokes of his dick – a half-hearted attempt at supplying a morsel of lubrication – he positioned himself and then pulled Kurt's body down onto him.
Kurt let a pained cry leave him knowing there would be no repercussions for being weak. According to Blaine, a little pain made you stronger. And Blaine seemed to like knowing he was making Kurt strong.
As Blaine repeatedly filled his body, stretching him out in a million different directions, Kurt let his head drop backwards. Once again, the harsh droplets of water from the shower head sprayed his face. Hot, red blood spraying from the man's neck onto his crimsoning hand.
No. Kurt shook his head and his soaking wet hair flew around and then clung to his skin. This is different. This is clean water. Don't think about that. He'll know.
Fortunately, Blaine's member slid so fluidly back inside him at the perfect angle and nudged his good spot. Rolling his hips, Kurt moaned into the water 'Stay- Stay there-!' Blaine bit at his exposed neck. His hands gripped at Kurt's waist to start the quicker and harder short thrusts reserved for when Kurt's vulnerable sweet spot was discovered. Jerked so violently that the air in his chest was knocked out with each blow, Kurt scrunched his eyes shut tight as stars began to form in his vision. 'Yes! Oh, please, Blaine, fu-ck me-!' Hot sparks shot up his whole body, causing his toes to curl painfully and his grip on Blaine to falter. Kurt fell back against the shower tiles, eyes still closed so nothing could distract him from this feeling he was growing to not only love but need to survive.
Blaine panted quietly, his eyes focused on his lover's expression and he fought the desire to come right at that moment. The boy was utterly captivating when he was lost in it all. He knew the first time he had seen such a sight that he had Kurt completely. Before, back when Kurt only obeyed out of fear and still had enough of his own mind to be thinking about other things – Finn – there was always something holding him back from getting lost in the earth-shattering fucks Blaine would bestow on him. Now, Kurt needed this to live. Blaine had got him drunk on orgasm euphoria, got him hooked on the sensations and constantly begging for another fix. Blaine was no fool: part of it would be a coping mechanism. As much as the game kills came naturally to Blaine, it was never in Kurt's pure nature and it never would be. The older male had accepted that. The pleasure Kurt would eventually get from taking lives would be - not artificial, as Blaine fully intended for the goodness to be real – but manufactured. Put into place. Always in need of maintenance. And Blaine was always going to keep Kurt well-oiled. If part of doing so happened to involve fucking the teen's brains out and screwing him like a whore whenever he pleased, then that was just a happy coincidence.
Smirking at the nonsensical words currently streaming out of Kurt's mouth, Blaine slipped his hand between them and slowly stroked Kurt's hardness. The teen bucked his hips and screamed, hitting his head on the tiles and unintentionally almost knocking his dominant partner to the slippery floor. Blaine pushed back at Kurt's spasming legs and thrust himself deeper, pressing them both up against the glass pane. Through the steamed-up surface, Blaine could see Kurt's rear side pressed up against the glass from the bathroom mirror. The boy was shaking, arms throwing themselves back in order to grab anything to help him stay at Blaine's mercy. Another stroke of fingers turned into a firm fist pump. Blaine's own dick was already strained and ready to blow. They were both so close. Blaine did not need to time anything – they were both in perfect unison. As the moment rapidly approached with each new slam of hips, Blaine kept Kurt taut on his deeply embedded dick as one hand went to town on Kurt's, his other hand grabbing Kurt by the throat so he could attack his mouth with his own. Their kiss was a mixture of biting, growling and tongue lashing until they reached their height. Kurt buckled at once, crying and his body convulsed. Blaine rode out his orgasm, lost in the steamy cloud of thick deliciousness. To prevent them falling in exhaustion and risk hurting Kurt, Blaine carefully bent his knees and sunk to the shower stall floor. He spread himself out, eyes closed and panting heavier than before. Kurt curled against his chest, his legs tangling themselves in Blaine's and his ass still very much home to the other's still very much hard dick.
The shower head continued to rain on them as if it had not realised the finale had ended. Clear water mixed with milky remains, swirling the drain. Kurt listened to the man's heartbeat. It comforted him, though he couldn't remember why he needed comforted in the first place. After a minute, Kurt pushed himself up to sit on Blaine's waist, tucking his legs in towards his thighs. He stared down. Even with those hazel eyes being closed, Kurt could feel their gazes meeting.
'I love you.' Kurt said automatically, not really hearing himself.
Blaine smiled and took his time in opening his eyes. Above him was the most stunning sight he could ever dream of seeing: lips bruised and his skin wet and shiny, Kurt's post-climax look of thoughtful innocence married perfectly with the blood stains across his naked body. 'And I…' Blaine slowly shook his head. 'Love' didn't even begin to describe what he felt. Instead of saying it, he sat up – holding Kurt in place so he didn't move off his lap – and kissed him properly. Fully. Kurt melted into his arms. Kurt liked these kisses; they were what fairy tales were built on. And just like the fairy tales, Kurt had to rely on make believe.
A.N. So I guess an apology is in order for the delay. And the depressing turn of events. Basically, all I ask is please review or PM your thoughts, but make like a Transformed Sebastian and be kind. :)
