A/N: PLEASE READ! Trigger-Warning for Cutting specifically, I think it is needed with where this chapter and the next are headed.

Chapter 25

I can cut you into pieces

Wes is with Kurt when it happens, or rather when the news of it having happened reach Kurt.

Wes is familiar, is comfort and calm, hold, ... usually.

Today ... he is here ... by pure coincidence, a weekend trip not even planned till two days ago and spontaneously extended to include the Monday and even Tuesday.

So when Kurt gets the call Sunday night at 11pm Wes is still there, there ... and ... . Wes does not see Kurt put down the phone but it lies on the kitchen table as Wes gets up from the couch to check what has happened to his boyfriend whose voice he had just moments ago heard cheerfully answering his phone, movie they had been watching now paused on the screen.

He finds him kneeling hunched over on the kitchen floor, whole body stuttering with aborted breaths. Wes does not notice Kurt's hands both tearing into the clothing covering his abdomen, as if he is trying to keep himself from getting to that old battle ground again.

Wes is on his knees beside him in a flash, reaching out, not daring to touch. "Kurt? What happened? Who was that on the phone?"

He gets no more than a sob in answer.

Wes struggles back to his feet then, reaches for Kurt's phone, calls the one person he can think of. "Blaine! I'm at Kurt's. Something is wrong. He just answered a call and now he's on the kitchen floor, sobbing, I ... What? Elliott? Yes, bring him with you. Just, just hurry!"

Wes hangs up as he watches Kurt struggle back to his feet, mumbling to himself, "I need, I ... I need ..."

Before Wes can react in any way Kurt has slipped past him and is closing the bathroom door behind himself, there is a click and its echo in Wes's head quickly morphs into the most terrifying sound Wes has ever heard when his mind finally makes sense of it.

Kurt has locked himself in.

Wes is still standing in front of that door, pleading with the empty silence when Blaine and Elliott arrive. Wes hastens to buzz them in, flings the front door open for them, before being back at the locked barrier standing between him and Kurt still tightly shut.

"Kurt, please, open up the door. Please, Sweetheart. Whatever is wrong I'm here."

"Wes," Blaine instantly sees as his friend turns to them entering the apartment that Wes is close to tears.

"He won't open up. He's been in there since I called you."

Blaine hugs Wes tightly, "It's okay, Wes. We'll figure it out."

Elliott is standing by the door now, "Kurt, hey, it's me, Elliott. Blaine's here too. Please come out and tell us what's wrong. Please, Kurt. Kurt?"

There is no sound to be made out from inside the room.

How could there be with Kurt sitting paralyzed on the floor still, tears stopped, eyes vacant until there is a resolve hardening in them.

Elliott has had enough of the standing around uselessly when he hears the crashing sound coming from inside the room.

The summer when Elliott was 15 he had forged his father's signature on a permission slip to take part in the local Junior EMT training program.

He had seen it often enough as a part of rescue operations that summer, even been asked to attempt it himself several times, but he had been scrawny then and never able to successfully perform it. He, however, to this day still remembers the exact technique required to break open a locked door successfully, is nothing even close to scrawny any more now. So he turns his back to the barrier, holds on with both hands to the wood of the frame, secures his right leg's stance and lifts his left leg high, kicking it back against the door as hard as he can.

It takes five hard kicks but then the lock finally breaks, the door flying open wide.

Wes is standing speechless as Blaine already rushes past his boyfriend,Elliott stepping aside in the door's frame, making room to enter.

Turning back towards the room himself Elliott instantly sees why Blaine is in such a hurry.

There is blood, '... too much of it.'