Hey ya'll. I know I really need to update my other stories, so if you're one of the people reading that, I am sorry, but I'm really enjoying writing this new one right now. I think I should be writing a new chapter of Adam's Revenge soon, and I'll probably get around to Twisted Persuasion and Innocent sometime soon enough. But I keep getting ideas! I promise that one day in the next few months (?) you'll see a "Status: Complete" on all three of those stories.

He's there. With me in the darkness again, just a few minutes ago hurled back down the stairs by our captor, limp like a rag doll but sobbing, sobbing so much. He's curled in my arms and I'm trying to calm the shivers that rack his body, the heartwrenching cries of pain when I accidentally put down too much pressure.

"'Laine...It hurts…"

"I know, baby, I know," I say, but I know my voice does little to soothe him. He whimpers and he sobs and I can do nothing to remedy his wounds or heal his broken bones. He's filled with a neverending ache now, and I can't fix him.

I...Can't fix him.

"Hurts so bad...want it to stop…"

"Shh, shh, it's okay, I'm with you. I won't let him hurt you again." I say, and I want to be able to promise that like I used to be able to. I want to be able to say it with that confidence I used to have in statements similar, but I know I can't now.

Because Kurt and I are here now, and I don't have the control I used to.

Not since he took us.

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It was a fine Saturday afternoon. Well, most wouldn't have considered it fine, because it was all rainy and dreary and sad, but I did, because I was hanging out at the mall with Kurt. And it was always fun for me to hang out with Kurt.

"Oh. My. God. Blaine, be as subtle as you can, but look at that woman in that Starbucks over there," Kurt said, and so I slowly turned my head over to the green coffee shop and saw a plump, fake-red haired woman, in leopard print leggings and a fluorescent green t-shirt that said "You like lobster? I like butter too". She had rounded the outfit out with red pumps with little bows on the fronts.

"Oh, wow," I said, turning back to my boyfriend. "That's…"

"Atrocious? Abominable? Absolutely shocking?" Kurt filled in.

"I was going to say bad, but those work too."

"That shirt is so dumb, and with her hair and those leggings and those pumps? Give me a break. Please, never, ever go out in public in something that horrendous," Kurt shuddered. "That is an absolute eyesore."

"That's a little rude," I said. "Maybe she just doesn't care very much."
Kurt made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. "Clearly."

"Now, Kurtie, be nice." I said, chuckling.

"How can I be nice? She isn't being very nice to my eyes. Oh, look, a GAP!" He said, suddenly changing the subject, and I groaned. Here came the teasing. "Wanna go serenade the new junior manager? I hear he's got long blonde hair and is older than you by about five years! Seems like your type, right?"

I glared at him. "No, Kurt, you're my type. I honestly don't know what I saw in him. Now come on, let's steer clear of the GAP."

"Fine," Kurt said, feigning disappointment. "Oh, well, we should actually go into the Dillard's Men, though. Might have a few of those patterned shirts I love. And I know for a fact they have polos and bowties."

"Okay," I said, and we turned into the store.

I swear, it must have been three hours later that we finally left, my arms full of bags of clothes but Kurt's entirely empty. I would have been complaining but I was chivalrous like that, and I know Kurt has a thing for chivalry. Plus, it wasn't all his.

Okay, most of it was, but I did pick up a few polos and bowties!

Kurt was saying something about having gotten enough stuff, so we left the mall and went out into the parking lot.

And suddenly I was filled with this sick feeling in my stomach, a sinister ringing in my ears. We shouldn't be here, we shouldn't be here, I thought, and I didn't have any idea why.

"Kurt," I began, but it turns out my instincts were really good because the next thing I knew, a hand was clamped over his mouth and he was being pulled back, kicking and screaming. "Kurt!" I yelled out. I tried to go get him, I did, but I couldn't before another pair of hands grabbed me and it was soon that everything went dark, bags of clothes dropped and forgotten across the wet, muddy pavement.

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"Hello, boys." That's the first voice I hear when I wake up, ears ringing and head spinning. Was I drunk last night? I feel like I have a killer hangover. Damn, where am I?

And then I realize I'm not in my bed. I'm not in Kurt's bed either, or any of my friends.

I'm not in a bed at all! I'm tied to a wooden chair, wrists bound behind the back and feet wrapped with rope at the legs. If I drank last night, what the hell kind of a party was that?

"Hello?" I try to say, only to realize that not only am I restrained, I've got duct tape over my mouth. I look around, blinking, and I realize I'm not alone.

Kurt's there too.

Well damn. He's tied to a chair too, and he has the tape over his mouth and he looks terrified, with his eyes wide and his skin even paler than normal, a trait I normally find beautiful but am now finding scary. We're definitely in a basement, an unfinished one at that. It's cold and dark and damp.

And then I turn and I see him. Our captor.

Jeremiah.

Well, undapper words are coming to mind now. He comes forward and rips the tape from my mouth but not Kurt's for some reason. I pant.

"What the hell are you doing, Jeremiah?" I ask with a growl.
"Oh, silly Blaine," He says, walking closer. "You remember me, how sweet. I guess I can get to the point if thats what you want." He pauses. "I'm here for revenge."

It's Kurt's turn to speak now. "Revenge?" He asks, but he's muffled.

"Awww, you're all muffled." Jeremiah says, and I'm confused. Why is it cute to him? "Well, I'm sure you remember how Blainers over here serenaded me at the GAP, in front of all of my coworkers and a whole bunch of civilians. I was fired, and humiliated. My parents found out about the ordeal, and they cut me off because I was gay. I'm homeless, now, because of you, and your stupid little Valentine's crush. So recently I've been thinking you got off with only a smack on the wrist but I've been suffering for months...nearly a year now. So I started thinking about how I could get revenge on you. Did some research, and I found out that you had quite a pretty little boy toy."

My eyes widen. I don't like where this is going. Not at all. I struggle a little, but Kurt still looks a little confused. "Don't mess with him." I grind out.

"So beautiful….I believe your favorite pet name for him is accurate." He walks up to Kurt, and starts stroking his jawline. He seems to get it now, and he's trying to get away but he can't. I'm trying to say something about not touching him. "Angel…" Jeremiah whispers, and a flash of anger blacks my eyes out momentarily. "And word on the street is you're deeply in love." He turns back to me. "Is that true, Blainers? Do you love him?" He takes hold of Kurt's chin and turns him to face me. His eyes are full of fear.

Instead of responding, I struggle. Of course I love him, but that may be dangerous to say. He may harm Kurt more, and I can't have that.

Slap! He slaps Kurt across the face, and my boyfriend cries out in pain. "MM MM!"
"Kurt!" I yell out.

"I said, do you love him?"

"Yes, yes, I love him, but-"

"But what, Blainey? Don't hurt him? Don't mess with him? Don't…" He pets Kurt's hair and I watch him tremble in fear. "...touch him?"

"Why are you putting him in this?" I ask. "I'm the one who screwed up. You want revenge on me. Not him."

"Well, there's two reasons," Jeremiah said. "One because from my sources I've found that you hate it when he's hurt, more than when you're hurt. And two, he's so pretty, isn't he? When I came up with this plan I realized what a genius I was-get revenge on you, and fuck a perfect little angel." He starts stroking his hair, with a hungry look in his eyes. Kurt pushes his own head back in an attempt to get away, his eyes full of sparkly little tears.

I growl. "Don't you dare."

"I dare," Jeremiah says. He starts to work at untying Kurt, and I struggle against the ropes. The hairy cords scrape at my arms enough to bleed as I try to get my arms from the back and my legs from, well, the legs. But soon Jeremiah has removed Kurt from the chair and swung his limp body over his shoulder. He is reaches back with one long, hairy arm, and rips the tape off his mouth.

"Say goodbye, Kurtie," he chuckles darkly.

"Blaine!" He sobs, trying to pull himself from Jeremiah's evil grasp. He sounds so helpless and desperate for my help but I can't give it. He's struggling and calling out and choking on his own sobs and tears, as I try desperately to escape these evil dreaded ropes that bind me away from my boyfriend. I fall on my face, still bound, as they get further and further away.

"Kurt!" I shout out, but as they disappear up the stairs and I hear a door opening, I know just how useless it is.

I know my stories kind of have a theme, but I'm not even sorry. Reviews, if you want.