Disclaimer: Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox, not me.

"No Light" belongs to Florence + the Machine, and I highly recommend you listen to it while reading this chapter.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably on Sebastian's lap, trying to maintain his smile. His mouth felt frozen. Sebastian squeezed tightly on his hip as he laughed at something the waitress said. He was gripping too hard and it was starting to hurt.

"Don't you think that's funny, Padgett?" Sebastian asked, squeezing his hip.

Kurt started and said something in reply, something bright and brash and witty that made them laugh, but his chest ached. He couldn't breathe. Soon he'd be onstage performing. In a few hours, he'd be in Sebastian's bed.

Think of the money, he consoled himself. Think of how much easier things will be when you get to New York.

Sebastian palmed at his inner thigh, kneading at his soft fragile skin. Kurt forced himself to smile at him, the sweet and nearly bashful one. Sebastian didn't even seem to notice.

Suddenly a bit of memory flashed in his mind- smiling at Blaine from across their usual table at the coffee shop, gazing at him from beneath his lashes, and watching the way his eyes lit up, the way a warm blush spread across his cheeks.

He loved you, a wicked voice taunted him. He loved you and you lost him.

He pushed the thought away and laughed at something that Sebastian said, the sound high and strangled. Sebastian took a long drink of his martini and swirled the clouded liquid around the glass. "Mm, I hope you're looking forward to tonight," he said, rubbing greedily at Kurt's thigh.

"I can't wait," Kurt said lightly, and a smug smirk spread across Sebastian's face. He leaned in to kiss hungrily at Kurt's neck, sucking and biting at his tender skin.

"I'm very good," he murmured between kisses. "You're very lucky, you know. You're lucky that you're mine now."

Kurt pushed back on Sebastian's shoulder and slid off his knees, his heart thudding a staccato beat in his chest. "I'd better go get ready," he said. "I've got a hot new number tonight, just for you."

"I can't wait to see it," Sebastian said, looking him up and down, his eyes gleaming. He slapped Kurt across the ass. "Give me a taste of what I'm getting tonight."

He should have reacted- winked, laughed, said something deliciously naughty in return- but he couldn't. He ran instead. He fled, disappearing through the crowd, daring past tables and tipsy patrons.

I can't, I can't. I want to go home. I just want to go home.

But there was no home. There was no hope. There was no one to save him.

He bumped into a patron, shoulder brushing shoulder, and the man's hand reached out and brushed the length of his arm, his fingers tangling with his fingers for a brief second until the crowd surged around them.

Kurt glanced back over his shoulder and froze.

It was Blaine.

Blaine stood right there in the middle of the club, his coat unbuttoned, his hair rumpled, tall and strong and solid and there.

"Padgett, c'mon, you're gonna be late."

The stage manager grabbed onto his upper arm and yanked him backwards. "Wait, please, wait a second-" Kurt started to say, but the stage manager pulled him back and dragged him backstage.

"You're on thin ice already, Price, don't push it," the stage manager said, pushing him down at his makeup station. "You're on in ten."

Kurt took a shuddering breath, staring at his reflection in the mirror- the sallowness of his skin, the hollows of his cheeks, the dark bruised circles around his eyes. "Wait," he said suddenly. "Wait, I…I want to change my number."

"You can't do this, Price," the stage manager warned.

Kurt closed his eyes. "I don't want to do the Britney Spears number," he said. "I want to do the other one. The one I was working on last night, after we closed."

"Are you sure?"

Kurt nodded. "Please," he said. "I want to do that one instead."

The stage manager cursed under his breath and stormed away. Kurt flipped open his makeup case and pulled out his brushes. The worse of the damage began to fade away. Concealer made the bruises under his eyes dissipate, foundation smoothed out the pallor of his skin. He lined his eyes carefully in dark smudged lines, brushed on deep soft shadows, twirled on a thick layer of mascara until his eyelashes curled upwards, silky and sooty. The lips he saved for last, painting a soft rich shade till his lips looked plush and kissable.

He sat back and regarded himself solemnly. It wasn't his usual look- no glitter, no scarlet lip gloss, no shocking colors. He looked more like himself than he had in a long time, but…a better version of himself, more beautiful, closer to perfect. But no amount of makeup could chase the haunted, hunted look out of his eyes.

"Padgett, one minute till show."

He grabbed the last pieces of his costume, a black slim-fitting vest and the gold halo circlet from his angel costume. After a brief, heart-skipping hesitation he ripped off his boots. He didn't want to go out in a costume. Not tonight. Tonight he wanted to be himself.

"Thirty seconds till show."

He gor up from his station and stumbled towards the stage. His throat felt tight, his chest was squeezed shut, but he had to do this. He had to do this or he would die.

The emcee was announcing him; he could hear the audience cheering and catcalling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He'd performed onstage so many times, thousands of times, and this was going to be the scariest performance of his young life.

He stepped onto the stage, the music beginning to pulse behind him and the lights shining in his eyes. It was almost too hard to see, but he could see just enough. Blaine was there, sitting in the back of the house, in the very middle by the sound booth, all by himself. He was watching him, his eyes trained on him.

Kurt took a deep breath, the sound echoing like a gunshot in his head. He clasped his hands together in front of his heart like a child in prayer, and softly he began to sing.

"You are the hole in my head, you are the space in my head…you are the silence in between what I thought and what I said."

He could still hear voices, hear the murmuring of the audience waiting for him to do something interesting. He closed his eyes tightly.

"You are the nighttime fear, you are the morning when it's clear…when it's over, you will start. You're my head. You're my heart."

An uneasy hush settled over the club. This wasn't his usual performance. This wasn't teasing and seductive and enticing. This wasn't even Padgett Price onstage. This was him. For the first time in months, it was just him.

The drumbeat struck behind him, hard and fast and syncopated, and he opened his eyes.

"No light, no light in my bright blue eyes- who knew daylight could be so violent? A revelation in the light of day, you can't choose what stays and what fades away."

There wasn't a set dance for this number, no pre-planned choreography or strategic moves. He just danced, quick and fluid and graceful. He wished he could see if Blaine was watching him. If he was still there.

"And I'll do anything to make you stay…tell me what you want me to say."

His chest seized up as he took a tight turn, his breath catching in his throat. You can do this, he told himself. Just get through it. Keep going.

"Through the crowd eyes crying out at me, in your place there were a thousand other faces. I was disappearing in plain sight…heaven help me, I need to make it right."

He tried to catch his breath between words, but the air came out as a slight wheeze. All he could do was sing, his voice high and marvelously clear.

"You want a revelation, you want to get it right, but that's a conversation I just can't have tonight. You want a revelation, some kind of resolution."

The audience had fallen into a hush. He could sense them staring at him. But he couldn't find Blaine. He didn't know where he was. All he could see was Sebastian lounging in the booth, whispering in the ear of the dancer beside him. He wasn't even paying attention.

He glided to the edge of the stage, his bare feet light and silent on the scraped, dirty floor. He could see things more clearly now- the smoke, the seediness, the tattered velvet on the chairs, the grimness of the men leering at him- and he hated it. He hated himself.

But Blaine was still there, standing in the back by the sound booth, his beautiful eyes alight and his lips slightly parted, gazing at him.

Kurt swallowed hard, his hands clenching in shaking fists over his heart, his whole body trembling.

"Would you leave me if I told you what I've done? And would you leave me if I told you what I've become?"

His knees felt weak; his throat was raw and stinging. He felt hot and cold all over, shivers running up and down his spine.

"'Cause it's so easy to say it to a crowd, but it's so hard, my love, to say it to you out loud."

He struck the last note, high and clarion-clear, his body arching in a fluid, graceful arc. It hurt, it hurt badly, but he pushed past the pain in his chest and sang anyway, his blood pumping hot and loud in his ears.

"You want a revelation, you want to get it right, but that's a conversation I just can't have tonight. You want a revelation, some kind of resolution…tell me what you want me to say."

His voice wavered on the last note, and as the audience began to applaud, his knees buckled and he slammed down hard on the stage floor. He gasped for breath and swallowed down a cough, choking hard.

They were still catcalling when he stumbled to his feet and struggled blindly off the stage. He tripped down the stairs, coughing hard, and fell hard at his makeup station. The music for the next number pounded hard from the stage and he cupped his hands around his mouth, coughing so hard that his stomach began to hurt.

Suddenly something wet spilled from his lips and dripped into his palms. Horrified, he lifted his shaking hands and caught sight of the dark red blood pooling on his white skin.

Kurt whined through his teeth, the taste of blood hot and heavy in his mouth. He grabbed for his makeup wipes and scrubbed at his hands and mouth, trying to erase the blood.

I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm okay, I'm just-

He choked hard and hunched down in a little ball, knuckling at his stinging eyes like a child.

I want to go home, he thought miserably. I want to go home. I want my mom. I want my dad.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs behind him and he jerked upright, throwing away the bloody cloth and trying to look unaffected. It was probably just another dancer getting ready for a show.

"Mm, there you are."

Kurt's spine stiffened. Sebastian walked over to him, his lips turning up in a wicked half smile, and draped his arms around his shoulders. "That was hot," he purred, kissing a slow sloppy line up the curve of his neck. "That was so hot. Are you ready to go, 'cause I'm ready."

Panic shot through Kurt's chest. "But the show's not done," he blurted out, his voice faint and raspy. "I still have the-"

"Paid off your manager to let you go early," Sebastian said, biting at the narrow swell of his shoulder. "Come on, let's go. I'm taking you out for dinner before we go do it." Kurt sat up very straight and very still, trying to avoid his own reflection- his wide frightened eyes, the splotched flush on his pale cheeks, the hint of blood still lingering on his lips. "I got us a suite at a hotel downtown. It's gorgeous. You'll love it."

He leaned in, taking Kurt's jaw in his hand, but Kurt pulled away with just the faintest brush of Sebastian's hungry mouth against his trembling lips. "Let me change first," he said. "I…I don't want to go out in my costume."

"Aw, but it's so sexy," Sebastian said, running his hand lightly over Kurt's bare chest. He stopped himself from shivering just in time. "Just do it fast, okay? I'm starving."

He ran his hand down Kurt's back and over the curve of his ass, squeezing hard. Kurt stared down at the scratched and scarred surface of the makeup table. "I don't…I don't want to leave yet," he said, but Sebastian had already left, disappearing through the backstage door to the street.

Kurt dropped his cheek to his hand, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. If only he could stay just a little longer…just long enough to find Blaine…

But it didn't matter. Blaine didn't come back for him. There was no way. Blaine didn't want him. Blaine couldn't want him, not like this.

Think of the money, he reminded himself dully. Just think of the money.

He changed clumsily into a white button-up shirt and his most decent pair of jeans. It was cool outside, but not cold enough to merit his winter coat. He didn't have anything lighter than that, but that would be okay. He would be fine.

He slid his feet into his shoes and picked up his phone. It beeped cheerfully at him, the voicemail light blinking, but there wasn't time to check it. He dropped it in the back pocket of his jeans and trudged out to meet Sebastian.

A sleek dark sports car was idling at the curb; Sebastian rolled down the window and gestured at him. "Over here," he called. Kurt walked over to him and slid into the front seat, his fingers fumbling at the buckle. "Like the car? There are some distinct perks to being a trust fund baby."

"It's lovely," Kurt said, sinking back in the seat.

Sebastian fiddled with the heat and the radio, yammering on about his car, and Kurt leaned his forehead against the cool windowpane. The car eased out of the club's parking lot and down the street. Light rain fell softly and he shivered as he watched it pool in glossy puddle on the dark sidewalks.

"Hey, don't look like that," Sebastian said, squeezing his hand around Kurt's thigh. "Aren't you looking forward to tonight?"

Kurt smiled. "Of course," he said in a soft low voice. He reached over and ran his fingertips along Sebastian's arm. "Why wouldn't I?"

Sebastian grinned at him, sharp and wolfish, and changed the topic of conversation. Kurt tried to respond, laughing and smiling and adding just the right comment at just the right time, but his heart wasn't it. He didn't even feel like he was there at all. It was like he was drifting along, watching someone else chat and flirt and smile. He didn't feel anything. He couldn't feel anything.

Sebastian parked outside a small diner near downtown and ushered him inside, his hand pressed to the small of Kurt's back. Inside it was quiet and dimly lit; no one seemed to notice them. A waitress ushered them to a booth in the back; Sebastian ordered for both of them and settled back against the seat. He kept talking, a steady stream of inane conversation, until another man walked over, a little older than Sebastian, and as they started chatting Kurt felt himself slipping away.

He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to go through with it. But there was nothing he could do. There wasn't another option. If he didn't go through with it, he'd have to try to pull himself through working at the club until he graduated from school. But if he slept with Sebastian, if he gave in, then maybe things would be all right. He'd have money. He could have more to eat, a better place to sleep, clothes that kept him warm.

"Kurt, what's wrong with you?"

He looked up dully. Sebastian frowned at him. "Your nose is bleeding," he said. "That's disgusting. Go get cleaned up."

"'m sorry," Kurt mumbled, cupping his hand over his nose. He slipped out of the booth and stumbled towards the bathroom. A waitress nearly knocked into him and he dodged just in time, coughing into his wrist as he nudged the bathroom door open with his shoulder.

Blood trickled sluggishly down his chin, dripping on his white shirt. He reached for a wad of paper towels and pressed it to his nose, trying to slow the bleeding. His head spun; he leaned his elbows heavily on the bathroom sink, squinting in the bright fluorescent lights. It felt like he was dying.

His phone buzzed in his pocket again, pestering him about his voicemail, and he wrestled it out of his pocket. He tapped in the code and held it up to his ear, still blotting at his bloody nose with the crumpled paper towel.

"You have one saved message. First saved message:"

He turned the stiff brown paper around to a clean spot, trying to soak up as much blood as he could.

"Kurt…hi, sweetheart."

The paper towel slipped from his fingers and hit the tile floor.

"This is Carole."

He covered his mouth with his hand, staring down at the empty sink.

"I've been trying to get ahold of you for months. I didn't know you changed your number. Finn found it, though, somehow, and…well, honey, I don't even know what to say. I'm just…I'm so worried about you, Kurt."

He heard her exhale slowly, the sound like gunfire in his ear.

"I know you miss your dad. I know…that things must be tough. But please, sweetheart, if there's anything that Finn or I can do…please let us know. We want to help, but we can't do anything if you keep telling everyone that nothing's wrong. We all love you…we love you so, so much."

He sank down, his back sliding against the wall, and sat down hard on the floor, his legs giving way beneath him. Blood was drying on his chin and he swiped it away with the back of his arm.

"Come home, Kurt. Please…come home."

He covered his mouth with his hand, his shoulders beginning to shake. The phone slipped from his fingers and the dial tone echoed in the silence.

"Message deleted."

He grabbed at it hastily, his fingers clumsy, and it felt like fire in his hand. His stomach twisted, and before he could change his mind, he ran.

He darted out of the bathroom, his shoes skidding on the floor, and ran out of the diner, shoving the door open as the ridiculous bells chimed overhead.

"Hey!" he heard Sebastian shout. "Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He ran faster, the air in his lungs already ripping out of his chest in aching heaves. It was raining faster, pelting his face, his hair, his clothes, but he welcomed the cold, he welcomed the wet. His heart pounded so hard that it felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.

He didn't dare look back to see if Sebastian was following. Instead he tried to run faster. His shoe caught on a rock and ripped along the side; his phone tumbled out of his pocket and clattered somewhere behind him. There wasn't time to go back for it.

His foot caught on a curb and he fell hard, scraping his palms and his knees on the rough wet cement. He struggled to his feet, coughing hard, and limped over to a broken-down phone booth on the corner. With shaking fingers he dug around in his pockets and dropped a handful of wet cold coins into the slot.

The dial tone echoed cheerfully in his ear and he punched in the numbers with trembling fingers. It rang once, then twice, then-

"Hello?"

He swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath long enough to speak. All he could summon up was to cough out his name in a faint whisper.

"Kurt? Kurt, is that you?"

He nodded before he remembered no one could see him.

"Kurt, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

He wrapped his free arm tighter around his waist. His shirt was soaked and sticking to him, cold and wet, and his lungs burned.

"Can you come get me?"

Author's Notes:

AAAAAAHHHHHH BUT WHO DID HE CALL?!

Oh, this chapter gives me heart palpitations. IT'S JUST SO INTENSE. Also, I hate Sebastian. Can you tell?

I've known since the very beginning that Kurt was going to sing "No Light" as the big turning point. It's such a beautiful, perfect song for that scene. At least I think so. Did it work? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

ALSO SEBASTIAN IS A SMIRKY SLUTTY MEERKAT WHO SMELLS LIKE CRAIGSLIST AND IS TOTALLY PERVING ON MY POOR SWEET ANGEL BABY AND I AM GOING TO RIP HIS PAWING EVIL HANDS OFF.

I don't know where that came from. I think this chapter is just so intense that it's broken me completely.

And guess what?

ONLY ONE CHAPTER TO GO!

Well, one chapter and an epilogue, but yay! I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO FINISH A STORY! IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!

And after this story is over, I'm going to turn my attention to Goodnight. But first...I need to rescue Kurt. The next chapter will be full of angst and weeping and cuddles and all the hurt/comfort you can imagine. WHICH IS MY FAVORITE. YAY.

But yes! Only one chapter to go! Please tell me what you think of it!

Also, special thanks to Boog, Christina, Margaret, and landoffairytales who all previewed this chapter and gave me a thumbs up- and pointed out all of the typos I made when I got overexcited. I think I caught them all!

If I didn't, I hope you still love me anyways.