Blaine looked around the luxury train car and paused. It was late – very late. He really wasn't used to the time difference between New York and Europe. Unable to properly sleep and getting a little claustrophobic in his cabin (though a suite on the famed Orient Express was hardly considered small, and it damn well shouldn't be for the money he shelled out), Blaine had decided to venture out and explore.
A sharp train whistle could be heard from outside. Blaine watched as the European countryside flew past the windows at an alarming rate.
He scanned the empty train car again – and wait, no, it wasn't completely empty, he realized. Tucked way back in the far corner of the railway carriage at a seating area was him. That spellbindingly gorgeous man Blaine recalled seeing when he boarded yesterday. Chestnut hair coiffed just so, a slim, lithe build that was so impeccably dressed – that man with the blue-green eyes that seemed to look straight through him. The man took Blaine's breath away at first sight, and he couldn't deny that he was hoping he'd run into him again. The train wasn't that large, so it was inevitable.
Thankfully, the handsome stranger was also a night bird – or an insomniac like Blaine was.
Blaine's pulse began to quicken as he slowly as he gathered his courage to approach the man who was seated alone, staring out the window. He walked up slowly, not wanting to startle the man, who appeared deep in thought. Blaine watched as the solo passenger leaned his temple against the cool window of the train and sighed.
Blaine paused a moment, took a deep breath, and gave it a shot.
"Um, hi," Blaine said tentatively. "Penny, for your thoughts?"
The man looked up quickly, and Blaine's stomach dropped as he saw the stranger wipe a tear away from his face.
"I'm sorry," the stranger said, apparently trying to pull himself together.
Blaine interjected. "Oh, no. No, I'm so very sorry," he said quietly. "You obviously need to be alone. I shouldn't have disturbed you." Blaine silently chastised himself as he turned to make his way back down the train car to give the other passenger some privacy.
"Wait," the man called out to Blaine. His voice was soft yet very sad, and his tone pulled at Blaine's heartstrings a bit more. "Come back. Please? I think I may need some company after all."
Blaine turned around to find the handsome passenger smiling at him kindly. "Are you sure?" he asked the other man. "I really wouldn't want to intrude."
"Not at all," the stranger said as he bestowed another smile. Blaine's heart did a little flip-flop at that smile. It was so warm and welcoming and strangely familiar.
Blaine took a few steps closer. "Maybe we, um, start again?" he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He cleared his throat and gave the stranger a shy smile.
"I'd like that," his fellow passenger stared at Blaine. Those beautiful blue eyes captured his hazel ones. And as trite as it sounded in his head, time stopped. Blaine's breath hitched because he could instantly feel this strange and amazing connection between him and this passenger. There was so much Blaine could not place swirling around behind those enigmatic eyes. It made Blaine want to sit with this man and be by his side forever.
"Mind if I join you?" Blaine asked as he waved his hand to the empty seat opposite the other man.
"Please do," his travel companion nodded.
Blaine sank into the blue-flocked velvet seat across from the other man. A waiter in a spotless, crisp uniform approached them as he sat.
"Anything to drink, sir?" he asked Blaine.
Before he could answer, his handsome companion piped up: "A medium drip for my friend, here. And even though I shouldn't because it's really late, I'll have another non-fat mocha."
Blaine looked across to the other man, "You know my coffee order?" he asked as the waiter left to take care of their drinks. Blaine cocked an eyebrow as a quizzical expression appeared on his face.
The handsome stranger blushed a deep red and looked down, playing around with the piping on the seat upholstery of his chair. "Of course I do," he murmured, seeming embarrassed. He cleared his throat. "I might have, um, been standing behind you at the Starbucks at JFK and overheard you."
Blaine's eyes twinkled. "So, another New Yorker. Wonderful! I wish you had said hello then – we were probably on the same flight as well. I'm Blaine." He held out his hand.
The other man took it in his own, an odd expression crossing his face. "Nice to meet you, Blaine. I'm Kurt."
Blaine looked down at Kurt's hand in his own. It weirdly felt just right, like it belonged there. Kurt's thumb lightly stroked the back of his hand. Blaine shivered at the gentle touch. What was it people would say: that "sparks flew" when they met? Blaine chuckled, sparks indeed – Kurt's touch was electric. He never wanted to let go.
However, the waiter had other plans. He returned with their drinks. The men released their hands to allow him to set an ornate silver tray on the low table between them. They murmured their thanks and got themselves settled. Blaine did a little happy wiggle seeing a complimentary plate of biscotti the waiter had also brought with their coffees.
Kurt chuckled at the mini happy dance. "Cookie?" he asked as he slid the plate over to Blaine.
Blaine grinned as he helped himself to one. "What can I say," he admitted. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth."
"I can't blame you. They are delicious. I've had some already." Kurt told Blaine. He watched Blaine dip one cookie into his coffee and take a bite. Kurt's expression turned sad suddenly. He looked back outside the window for a moment. Blaine could tell he was on the verge of crying again.
"Hey," Blaine said softly. "Are you sure it's okay that I'm here? You seem really upset, and I won't be offended at all if you need me to leave." He placed his hand on Kurt's knee.
"I'm sorry. I'm not very good company at the moment," Kurt told Blaine. I'm not always like this, I promise you. It's just . . I'm in a bit of a tough place right now."
Blaine squeezed Kurt's knee. "I totally get it. I have been kind of lost and in a fog lately, myself. Like I haven't been able to get my footing at all. It's disconcerting. It's why I'm here, actually. I wanted to try to reconnect with myself and all. I figure that will put me back on the right track."
Blaine gave Kurt a nudge. "Get it? Like train track?"
Kurt snorted and rolled his eyes. "Okay, that was so corny."
"But it made you smile," said Blaine. "It's nice when you smile," he tells Kurt, who blushes again and looks down at his coffee mug.
A silence stretches out between them. It's not uncomfortable. Blaine knows Kurt just needs a moment, and he doesn't want to rush him.
"Please, stay, Blaine. I would really like you to." Kurt asked, his eyes, though red-rimmed, beckoned him to remain.
"Okay," said Blaine as he reached for his own drink. "Would you want to talk about it?" he asked Kurt. "I know we just met, but it looks like you need to get a lot off your chest. And I'm here. We have coffee – and cookies." Blaine smiled and gave a flourish of his hand towards the plate in front of them.
Kurt smiled and reached for a biscotti. He nibbled on one absentmindedly as he struggled to figure out where to start. That's when Blaine saw it. The hand holding the biscotti was Kurt's left one. And there, plain as day, was a platinum wedding band on his fourth finger.
Blaine's heart sunk a bit. He shouldn't be surprised. Of course, someone like Kurt would be married. "Um . . . will your husband be joining us?" Blaine asked tentatively. "Or is that why you're so upset?"
Kurt sighed and placed the biscotti back on the table. "No, I'm afraid not." He swallowed hard and began to fiddle with his wedding band. "I'm a widower," Kurt whispered sadly.
Blaine saw the tears fill up again in Kurt's eyes and spill down his cheeks. He quickly fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Kurt, miming that he could wipe his cheeks with it.
Kurt laughed a little through his tears as he did just that. For a moment, he stared at the handkerchief in his hands. "That was sweet of you, thank you," he said as he tried to hand over the piece of cloth. "My husband would have done the same thing."
Blaine shook his head. "No," he said. "It's okay. You can keep it. You seem to need it more than I do."
Kurt smiled sadly. "I really do cry at the drop of a hat these days." He dabbed at his eyes once again.
Blaine hesitated for a moment. "I don't mean to pry – but was it recent? Your husband's passing?"
Kurt shook his head. "No," he confessed. "That's just it. It wasn't," Kurt sniffed again as he twisted Blaine's handkerchief between his fingers. "The whole thing was very unexpected, and I guess it's just hard for me to let go of him."
Kurt turned to look out the window again. He sighed. "We knew each other for so long. We met as kids, actually. I fell in love with him at first sight. He – well, it took him a little bit to get his act together, but once he did - we just clicked. It was nothing I ever expected – and everything I ever wanted."
Blaine leaned back in his chair. "That's just . . . beautiful." He thought a moment, running his hand through his dark curls. "I mean, people dream of that kind of love, Kurt. You were so lucky to have had that - even for a short while."
"I know," Kurt whispered. "But even knowing that doesn't make all of this," he waved his hands around. " . . .any easier." He admits. "I'm just so tired, Blaine." Kurt rested his forehead on the cool windowpane.
Blaine stood up and sat down next to Kurt. "I wish I could help you," he said earnestly as could. "I can tell your grief is weighing you down."
"Understatement of the century," Kurt muttered to himself.
"And I'm not sure if you'd want to hear this from someone you just met, but. . ." Blaine hesitated slightly before continuing. "I'm sure your husband would want more for you, Kurt. Call me crazy, but I think he probably would want you to find some way to be happy."
"I don't think I can move on," he told Blaine honestly. "He was the love of my life. He still is. Part of me aches without him."
Blaine thought for a moment. He was so drawn to Kurt, and he couldn't find it in his heart to just leave him be. He stood up and held his hand out to Kurt. "Come on. Follow me," he said with a smile.
Kurt stood and placed his hand in Blaine's. "Wait . . where are we going?" he asked, curious.
"Trust me. It'll be good." Blaine assured Kurt, tugging him along. "I know a shortcut."
"Shortcut to where?" Kurt chuckled as he found himself dragged out of the train car.
Kurt turned back for a moment and frowned, seeing someone enter the car from the other end. He gripped Blaine's hand tighter and followed quickly.
The two men sprinted down the corridor of the train. They dashed by other passenger carriages, through the baggage car, and even through the kitchen – surprising many of the staff as they sped by.
"Sorry!" Kurt apologized as they bolted past everyone. "Blaine, are you sure we are allowed in here?" he asked.
Blaine laughed out loud. "It's an adventure, Kurt. Live a little." Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's hand. It felt so right, Kurt's hand in his. Blaine just couldn't shake that feeling. He knew it was horrible timing, with Kurt still mourning his husband, but it was a connection he couldn't ignore.
"Ta-da!" Blaine said as he threw the door open with a flourish.
Kurt gasped as he watched the European countryside spread out before him as they sped along the train tracks. The stars were all out, and the moon was full. It was gorgeous. He put both hands on the rail and closed his eyes, feeling the wind ruffle his hair. He could feel Blaine step close to him, mimicking his posture, his left hand on the rail so close to Kurt's right. Kurt shivered at his proximity. It had been so long, and his heart ached even more.
"Tell me about him," he heard Blaine say.
"Wait, what?" Kurt asked, visibly flustered.
"Your husband," Blaine asked honestly. "You talk about moving on – but I don't think that's the best way to approach grief. You'll never really move on. He's a part of you. You loved him. He'll always be there in some form all through your life. So how about we celebrate him instead of mourning his loss?
Kurt took a deep breath and nodded. "I think I like that."
"Why are you here?" Blaine asked.
Kurt hesitated for a moment, as if he was debating whether or not to divulge any more of his sad story.
"This was the last trip we took together," Kurt quietly confessed.
"Really?" Blaine asked.
Kurt peered up into the starlit sky. "He was a hopeless romantic. Something about a trip on the Orient Express always appealed to him. And he had been hooked on Agatha Christie novels since he was a kid."
Blaine chuckled, "Ahh, a man after my own heart."
Kurt's brow furrowed for a moment, another sad expression crossing his face. "It just felt like I was close to him again by being here."
The door to the train behind him swung open suddenly. Both men jumped.
"Back again?"
They turned around to see the waiter from the bar car leaning against the door frame. He seemed to be around their age, a handsome young Asian man with a smile on his face.
Blaine smiled, slightly embarrassed. "Hey, but at least I'm not lost this time. I just wanted to show my friend the view."
The waiter nodded. "I get it, but you really need to get back inside. I can't keep covering for you."
Blaine took Kurt's hand and led him back into the railway carriage. "Thanks, Mike," Blaine said to the waiter.
As they passed, Mike told them, "Hey, if you're hungry, I can sneak you something in the dinner car." He winked at Blaine and smiled as if he knew a secret.
After they passed through a couple of cars, Kurt pulled Blaine over to one side of the corridor.
"Wait," Kurt asked. "Was that waiter flirting with you?"
"Um, no . ." Blaine blushed.
Kurt poked Blaine in the chest, teasing. "He was!"
Blaine shook his head. "I swear he wasn't!"
Kurt looked at Blaine, seemingly unconvinced.
Blaine coughed in his hand to cover his embarrassment as he spits out: "Imighthavebeenaskinghimaboutyou."
Kurt's brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what Blaine was trying to say. "What was that again?" he asked.
Blaine turned beet red. "I might have been asking him about you," he repeated much slower. "I remember seeing you when I boarded the train and . ."
"You . . you remembered me?" Kurt said, surprised.
Blaine smiled. "Of course . . ."
Blaine stepped toward Kurt to let another couple walking down the corridor pass. He heard Kurt's breath hitch as he leaned in closer. Blaine felt his own pulse speed up a bit as he looked into those beautiful blue-green eyes.
"You caught my eye the minute I saw you," Blaine whispered.
"Same here." Kurt quietly said back. His eyes quickly dropped to Blaine's lips and then back up to those hazel eyes.
Blaine definitely noticed. God, how Blaine wanted to kiss this man. But, no, he knew he shouldn't. He stepped back and guided Kurt back down the corridor instead. "So, one night, then?" he asked.
Kurt looked at him, unsure of what he was getting at. "One night?"
Blaine nodded. "This trip. Paris to Prague. We only have one night on this train. You and your husband only had one night on this train. Shall we make it memorable? To celebrate him?"
Kurt nodded, his eyes getting a bit teary again. "Yes."
As they sat down in the dining car, Mike appeared again out of nowhere. Armed with a charcuterie board of tidbits, a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, and two champagne flutes, he served both men with a flourish.
"I'm sorry I can't really get you dinner, but I thought this might do," Mike confessed.
"Thank you." Kurt softly said, his brow furrowed momentarily as he looked over the waiter's shoulder.
"Is it okay?" Blaine asked Kurt as he looked around the train car with all its formal place settings. White pristine tablecloths covered every table while beautiful china and sparkling crystal shone throughout the dining area. It all seemed lovely. But it was also very "fancy first date-ish," and Blaine began to worry maybe he was pushing Kurt out of his comfort zone too much.
"Perfect," Kurt assured Blaine. "I . . I had this champagne at our wedding reception. It's my favorite."
"Mine too," Blaine confessed as he sipped from his flute. "So, did you honeymoon in Paris?
Kurt was a bit surprised. "Why, yes, we did. Um, did I mention that before?"
Blaine shook his head. "No, for some reason, it just seemed to fit you. Does that seem odd?" he asked.
Kurt shook his head, fiddling with the base of his champagne flute. "It was always one of my dream trips. Can you picture it – me, this young gay kid in rural Ohio – dreaming of living in New York, going to Paris." Kurt's brow furrowed as a few memories replayed in his head. "And it all happened."
Blaine smiled. "Ahhhh, so you're from Ohio too?. A Buckeyes fan, perhaps?" he teased.
Kurt snorted and cocked an eyebrow at Blaine. "What about me, says a football fan?"
Blaine held up his hands in surrender and chuckled. "I didn't want to assume. Just wanted to check if we had any more in common."
Kurt shook his head and laughed. "Sorry, I'm not a fan – you and my Dad, however, could talk for hours about football."
Blaine smiled. "I think I'd like that." Blaine could almost picture it – a small, cozy home, a set of recliners, and a big TV with the game on. For some reason, Blaine could see in his mind a man, much older, with Kurt's smile, wearing flannel and baseball caps – a real blue-collar guy, but more approachable and loving than his own father. "It's not really a thing my dad would do," he admitted.
"Watching football?" Kurt asked quietly, his heart aching a bit more.
"No," Blaine said; this time, he avoided Kurt's steady gaze. "Spending time with me. Short of that one summer when we put a car together in his attempt to quite literally set me straight. He really hasn't been part of my life. Not since I came out."
"Blaine . ." Kurt reached out across the table and entwined Blaine's fingers with his. "It wasn't your fault."
"Kind of felt like it was," Blaine mumbled, trying not to tear up himself but instead to focus on how Kurt was using his thumb again to stroke the back of his hand. Such a small gesture, yet it was grounding, comforting and familiar. "If I wasn't who I was, maybe he would have liked me more. Loved me even."
"Hey," Kurt said, "That's your father's issue. His problem. If he can't accept and love you, he's losing out on knowing what an amazing man you are." Kurt placed his other hand on top of Blaine's. "And besides, if you weren't who you are now, I never would have gotten to know you. We might not have ever met."
Kurt reached over the table and cupped Blaine's cheek. "I'm very glad we met, Blaine."
Blaine looked up at Kurt and smiled through his watery eyes. "I'm glad we met too, Kurt." He chuckled softly. "And here, I thought I was trying to cheer you up, not the other way around."
"I don't mind," Kurt told him, staring intently into his eyes.
Blaine's instinct wanted to shout to Kurt: "Stay. Stay here. Stay with me. Stay forever." But he bit his tongue. He couldn't do it. It wasn't right. Kurt was still mourning.
But just as Blaine went to say something to keep the conversation going, he was shoved forward with such force that their small table shook, champagne spilling out of their flutes. He could feel Kurt's hand tighten around his. Blaine looked up to see a towering hulk of a man looming over their table.
"What is your problem?" Kurt demanded.
"Fucking fags," the man sneered. "You're disgusting. I didn't pay good money for this trip to see you two pull this shit where I eat dinner."
Blaine's heart started racing. "Look," he said, trying to calmly diffuse the situation." We are just living our own lives here. It doesn't concern you."
The belligerent man stepped closer to Blaine. "You are in my space. So yeah, this does concern me," he growled.
Kurt's eyes widened as he saw the man step closer to Blaine. "Don't bother trying to reason this one, Blaine," he spat angrily, getting the stranger to focus on him instead of Blaine. "There's no getting through to people like him." Kurt continued as the larger man whipped his head around to look at him. "They are all the same - thickheaded moronic imbeciles. Nothing upstairs, so all they do is act out with their fists. Well, you can't punch the gay out of us any more than we could punch the ignoramus out of you. We're not changing who we are because you don't like it!"
The man hissed, "Don't think this is over, faggot." The stranger slammed his fist onto the table. The china and silverware rang out as they clinked together. Blaine flinched at the sound while Kurt stared, his chin raised, defiant, and eyes blazing.
"Hey . . ." they heard someone shout at them, and all three men turned to the sound.
Mike was at the far end of the dining car, his hands full with a tray laden with other place settings and cutlery. He quickly placed the tray down on the nearest table and walked over.
The stranger grunted and threw Blaine and Kurt another disgusted sneer. The man then shoved his way past Mike and made his way to exit the other end of the car.
"Are you guys okay?" Mike asked as he rushed over, a very concerned look on his face.
Blaine nodded, "Just a homophobic ass, Mike," he shook his head. "Just a lot of hot air, nothing more."
Kurt brave façade dropped immediately. He released a shuddering breath and dropped his head into his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have provoked him. He's been giving me grief and just hovering around ever since I boarded. It was horrible; it felt like high school over again. I just couldn't sit there."
As Blaine and Mike leaned in more to comfort Kurt, they failed to see the angry passenger continue to watch all three of them with an angry look on his face.
Nor did they see him reach onto Mike's unattended tray and take something off it as he walked away.
Mike began to clear the table. "Maybe you both should head back to the bar car?" he suggested. "It's in the opposite direction, and they might still be playing music for the night. If nothing else, it will be quiet." He took a look back in the direction where the stranger retreated. "I'll alert the rest of the staff about him. There's a no-tolerance clause in the ride agreement for behavior like that. It's included in the ticket price. Stuff like this will get him kicked off the train at the next town we hit. I'm so sorry you had to deal with that." Mike gave them another sympathetic nod before returning to the other end of the car to pick up his tray and resume work.
Blaine looked at Kurt, concern in his eyes. "What do you want to do? Call it a night? I won't blame you if you want to."
"No!" Kurt said. "No . . I refuse to let that Neanderthal ruin this."
Blaine could see Kurt was still visibly upset. "Hey, really, it's okay." He said
Kurt clutched at Blaine's wrist. "Please, don't go," Kurt begged as he started to breathe heavily, panic beginning to set in.
"Okay. . it's okay, Kurt." Blaine stood, pulling the other man out of his seat and into a hug. "You're shaking," he said as he felt Kurt's body tremble against his. "I'm here. We're fine. That guy's gone." He rubbed his hand on Kurt's back in an attempt to further calm him down.
"I'm sorry – it's, I guess, just a flashback, seeing him," Kurt mumbled into Blaine's shoulder.
Blaine gave him another squeeze and whispered into Kurt's ear. "Hey, how about this . ." he suggested. "Let's check the bar car out, like Mike said. We didn't exactly have dinner, so I think I should at least not exactly take you out dancing? Does that even make any sense?" Blaine pulled back to make a silly face, hoping that would break Kurt's mood.
Kurt chuckled. "Sure," he said, as he nodded. "I think I'd like that a lot."
The bar car was a little busier than the dining car. A few more night owls had emerged from their cabins to enjoy the late-evening music and drinks. A pianist on a baby grand sat at the far end of the car. A few couples were scattered here and there, sitting on the lush velvet seats or chatting quietly with the bartender at the other end of the railway carriage. Kurt and Blaine slowly made their way down toward the piano. Blaine stopped Kurt for a moment to go up and whisper to the pianist.
Blaine returned to Kurt and held out his hand.
"Excuse me," he said, smiling shyly. "May I have this dance?"
Kurt couldn't help but get a flashback of a handsome teenage boy asking him that very same question years ago. Pink carnation in his lapel, he also had his hand outstretched to Kurt, making him feel safe, secure, and loved.
With tears shining in his eyes, Kurt responded: "Yes. Yes, you may."
Blaine pulled Kurt in close as the pianist began to play. Kurt buried his face into Blaine's neck when he recognized the song.
"Good choice?" Blaine asked, gauging Kurt's reaction.
Kurt nodded. "It was our first dance . . at the wedding."
Blaine smiled. "I'm a sucker for Gershwin."
He softly sang to Kurt as they swayed together in each other's arms:
The way you wear your hat
The way you sip your tea
The memory of all that
No, no, they can't take that away from me
The way your smile just beams
The way you sing off-key
Kurt snorted. "Off key? Never!" he smiled.
Blaine chuckled and continued:
The way you haunt my dreams
No, no, they can't take that away from me
We may never, never meet again
On the bumpy road to love
Still, I'll always, always keep the memory of
The way you hold your knife
The way we danced till three
The way you've changed my life
No, no, they can't take that away from me
No, they can't take that away from me.
Kurt knew he couldn't let this moment go. It was too beautiful. He stepped back for a moment to stare at Blaine, taking in those gorgeous hazel eyes, those dark curls, and handsome features. Kurt studied Blaine's face to commit it to memory, to etch it into his heart where he knew it belonged.
And then he leaned in and kissed Blaine gently.
Blaine responded in kind, deepening the kiss while cradling Kurt's face in both of his hands.
After a few moments, they pulled away, both of their hearts rapidly beating in tandem.
"Kurt . . I . ." Blaine had so much that he wanted to tell Kurt.
"Can we . . go someplace more private?" Kurt murmured, cutting him off.
Blaine nodded. Anything - he'd give Kurt anything he wanted at this very moment. "Okay," Blaine said, this time letting Kurt lead him out of the train car to wherever he wanted to go. Blaine decided then and there that he'd follow Kurt to the ends of the earth.
As they left, a pair of familiar angry eyes watched them go.
Moments later, that person followed them out.
Kurt led Blaine quickly back to his own suite. He unlocked the door and turned to Blaine smiling and tugging him into the room by his tie. Kurt promptly shut and locked the door, pushing Blaine up against it.
Blaine hesitated for a moment. "Kurt, are you sure?"
Kurt smiled and practically attacked Blaine's lips. "Yes, I'm sure. I need you, Blaine, please." Then he stopped. "Unless you don't want to?"
Blaine snorted. "Are you kidding me? Have you seen you?"
Kurt laughed out loud. "I love you."
Blaine stopped for a moment. "I love you too." He shook his head and laughed as well. "This is crazy, Kurt; I know we just met, but . . ."
"Shut up and kiss me then," said Kurt as he quickly began to untie Blaine's bow tie and pull his polo over his head.
Frantic fingers worked at opening zippers and buttons as they continued to kiss. Article after article of clothing found its way to the floor at a frenzied rate. The men fell on the bed, breathless and naked. They began kissing and touching - mapping out each other's bodies with a distinct urgency. Blaine wasn't sure where it was coming from, but he wasn't about to argue.
He made himself pause a minute to savor the image of Kurt: his lips swollen, his hair mussed from Blaine running his fingers through it, and his body bathed in the moonlight streaming in from the cabin window.
"You're so gorgeous," Blaine whispered. He straddled Kurt's waist and slowly ran his fingers down Kurt's torso. Kurt arched up at the sensation and moaned. Blaine smiled as he leaned down to trail kisses down his neck, nipping at his collarbone, fighting to suppress the urge to mark Kurt to show the world what he could not stop thinking: mine, mine, mine.
"Blaine," Kurt pleaded in between kisses. "Don't stop."
"Never," Blaine said as he continued to kiss his way down Kurt's body. He nipped at his hip bones playfully, smiling as he did so. "What do you want, Kurt?" he asked before he sunk his mouth down onto his cock.
"You," moaned Kurt as he threaded his fingers through Blaine's curls as the other man sucked and swirled his tongue around his shaft. "Blaine, please, I want you. I don't care how. Just love me."
Blaine pulled off Kurt, smiling. "That I can do," he said as he proceeded to show Kurt precisely what he had in mind.
Afterward, they collapsed into each other's arms, breathless and sated. Kurt had his head on Blaine's chest, right above his heart, listening to its soothing rhythms. Blaine had his arm around Kurt, tracing patterns on his bare back.
"Promise me something?" Kurt asked quietly.
Blaine turned to look into Kurt's eyes. "Of course. Anything," he said.
Kurt turned away, his voice beginning to break. "Promise you won't forget me," he whispered.
"Kurt," Blaine said, "I could never forget you. Never."
The shrill shriek of the train's whistle pierced through the air. The rumbling of the locomotive on the tracks began to grow as the Orient Express began to travel through a tunnel that cut through a mountain range. The lights in the cabin flickered and dimmed slightly.
"I'm serious, Blaine." Kurt pushed himself up on his elbows to look Blaine in his eyes. "You have to remember me." he insisted.
Blaine stroked Kurt's face. "I will. I will." He kissed Kurt again to reassure him. "I'm not letting you go. I want to spend the rest of this trip with you. If you'll have me, that is. I want to see more of you in New York when it's all over."
"I know," Kurt said. "I know you want that . . and you say that, but . ."
"But nothing," Blaine kissed him again. "I will. I will always remember you." Blaine stated.
The train whistle cried out again. The lights dimmed once more.
"I love you," Kurt insisted. "Never forget I love you. I will always love you. I have always loved you." He took Blane's hand and clutched it to his chest. "Please don't forget me." Kurt's expression was heartbreaking to Blaine. The tears began to well up in Kurt's eyes.
The sounds of an altercation made both men quickly turn their heads. Something was happening in the hallway outside their suite. Muffled shouts could be heard through the walls. Then they heard a woman's scream. Footsteps were running up and down the corridor. And there was pounding, so much pounding on the walls.
"What the hell?" said Blaine as he got out of bed and pulled on his pants. "What's happening out there? He began to walk to the door of Kurt's suite tentatively.
The train whistle shrieked even louder. The rumbling of the train tracks grew more audible as well. The lights flickered again.
Kurt fumbled to get out of bed, partially tangled up in the sheets. He grabbed his bathrobe and put it on as quickly as he could. "Blaine," he called out. "Please, don't . . don't go there. Don't open the door."
The pounding on the walls got louder and louder. Whatever was making the noise was on the other side of the door.
Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and tried to pull him back towards the bedroom. "Please, Blaine," he begged. "Please come back to the bedroom with me."
Blaine jumped as the pounding resumed on the door. The sounds of a scuffle then followed. More shouts.
"No, stop!" they both heard.
Then a cry . . a familiar voice.
Followed by the muffled thud of something heavy falling to the ground.
Blane rushed to hope the cabin door. "Someone's hurt," he said as he flung the door open.
A shot rang out.
The train whistle screamed, filling Kurt's ears.
"Blaine!" he cried, rushing forward to catch him in his arms and lower him to the floor.
"Kurt . . " Blaine was gasping for air. Kurt watched as blood steadily pulsed from the gunshot wound on his chest. Dark and heavy, it flowed with every beat of Blaine's heart.
One small hole.
Who knew one small hole could cause so much damage - It could change so much.
"I love you," Kurt said as he bent close, tears streaming down his face. He tried using the sleeve of his robe to apply pressure to the wound, knowing full well what the result would be. "I love you. I'm here. Stay with me. Please," he begged.
Blaine's eyes widened as he saw someone walk up behind Kurt.
"Kurt, run. . ." Blaine wheezed. "Don't let him hurt you." His breathing became increasingly labored as his lungs began to fill with fluid.
"It's too late for that, my love," Kurt whispered, caressing his face. "I am never leaving without you. Remember?"
Recognition finally dawned in Blaine's eyes for the first time that evening. "Fearlessly and forever," he said, reaching for the hand touching his face and stroking the wedding band on Kurt's finger.
Kurt nodded. "Fearlessly and forever," he repeated as he watched Blaine's eyes close for the last time. "Don't forget me, Blaine. I love you," he said, leaning forward to kiss Blaine gently on his lips.
And with that, Kurt wept openly as his husband left him yet again.
Click.
Kurt felt the cold hard barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head.
"Go ahead, David," Kurt muttered. "Just do it already."
The aggressive passenger from the dining car sneered. "Are you in that much of a rush to do it all over again?" he asked.
Kurt refused to look up at his husband's murderer. Instead, he quickly peered outside the open door. There on the floor, he could see Mike, his throat slit by the knife stolen from his tray earlier that night.
"I'm so sorry," Kurt said to him sadly.
"Kurt, Kurt, Kurt . . " David said as he pushed the gun harder into his head, forcing Kurt to bend forward further. "If you only had listened to me, none of this would have ever happened. No one would have gotten hurt."
"Listened to you?" Kurt spat.
"You should have never married him," David growled. "He was never worthy of you. I was."
"He was perfect. He was mine, and I was his." Kurt murmured, slowly brushing the curls off Blaine's forehead.
"NO," David shouted. "You are MINE."
"Never," Kurt said as he cupped Blaine's face. "I never loved you, David. It was him. It was always him."
David leaned in closer, pushing the gun harder into Kurt's head. "You can end this, you know. Don't be stupid. All it takes is one word. Say you're mine. Be with me forever," he hissed, eyes blazing.
The cabin lights began to flicker frantically.
Kurt gathered Blaine's lifeless body in his arms. "No," he said firmly. He took Blaine's hand and kissed it reverently, holding it to his chest. "I will never be yours. I will always love Blaine. You will never take his place in my heart. You will never be the man that he is."
"Go to hell . . ." seethed David.
"I'm already there," Kurt whispered, closing his eyes.
"I'll see you soon, then." David hissed. "I have all the time in the world."
David pulled the trigger.
The gun fired once.
Then it fired once more.
All the while, the wailing of the train whistle echoed loudly in the air. And the rumble of the train traveling over the tracks grew into a deafening roar. The lights flickered once, then twice, and finally three times. Then they extinguished, drowning the room in darkness.
And as the Orient Express finally exited the other end of the tunnel, everything was quiet.
The first thing Kurt felt was an excruciating pain that reverberated through his skull.
That was the same every time.
Then there was the darkness.
That part he really hated. It was like falling endlessly into an abyss, and there was no anchor – no one to pull him out of it. His body always felt sluggish and heavy, as if he was slogging through a mire.
But worst of all, his heart ached. Every single time that piercing agony in his chest did nothing more but remind him of what had happened and all he had lost.
After that always came the numbness, followed by the demon cry of the train whistle that signaled the start of everything all over again.
The coolness of the windowpane seeped through Kurt's skin into his temple. His eyes were closed, but he knew well enough precisely where he was.
He was back on the Orient Express.
He knew what railway carriage on the train he was located. He knew where he was seated in the car.
Because it was the same. Every damn time.
Kurt sighed, knowing what was to come.
Some details could change – but at the end of the night, it always ended the same way: seeing some version of Blaine and eventually with David murdering them both and then turning the gun on himself.
And Kurt re-lived that horrifying night over and over and over in a nightmare loop from which there was no escape.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he heard a familiar voice say.
Kurt slowly opened his eyes.
There he was.
Handsome as ever, he was standing next to Kurt's chair, gazing at Kurt with a twinkle in his hazel eyes and a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
His Blaine.
His husband, best friend, lover, soulmate – his everything.
Alive. . . for now.
But it wouldn't last. It never lasted.
Kurt started to feel it again, that heartache that would never really go away. His breath hitched as his eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Kurt told Blaine. "I just can't . . I can't do this anymore." Kurt covered his mouth to muffle the sobs that were threatening to escape. He stood and pushed past Blaine, determined to leave.
A strong hand gripped his wrist and held him tight.
"Kurt," Blaine said softly. "Please . . . please don't run away from me."
Kurt whipped around. He stared incredulously at the hand that captured his wrist.
It was Blaine's left hand. And there shining on Blaine's finger was his platinum wedding band, identical to the one on Kurt's hand. Kurt slowly met his husband's eyes.
"Blaine . . ." he asked, unsure if this was yet another dream. Was it only a glimmer of hope within this never-ending nightmare?
'I remember," Blaine said. 'I remember. . . everything."
Kurt let out a sob as he threw himself into his husband's arms. "Is it you? . . really you?" he asked, hugging him tightly.
"It's me," Blaine said, holding Kurt just as tight. "I'm here, Kurt. It's really me."
He pulled back to frame Kurt's face in his hands and kissed him. Blaine wiped away the tears streaming down Kurt's cheeks with his thumbs. "Sweetheart, why did you stay? You could have moved on."
"I couldn't leave you behind," Kurt said. "I didn't want to find out what was out there without you by my side. So, I waited."
"Through all this? Over and over again?" Blaine looked at his husband, concerned.
A pained look crossed Kurt's face.
"It's my fault David did this, Blaine. My fault. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me." Kurt said as tears threatened to fall again from his eyes.
Blaine pulled his husband into another embrace. "Let go of your guilt, Kurt," he whispered into his ear. "Stop punishing yourself. What's done is done. We can't change the past."
"I know," Kurt murmured. "I just missed you so much." He clutched tightly at Blaine's clothes as they held each other. "I had to hold on to you somehow."
"I'm sorry it took me so long," Blaine said. "It apparently 'takes me a while to get my act together' – hmm?" He shot Kurt an amused look.
Kurt let out a small chuckle. "Sorry about that. But it is true." He nudged Blaine in his ribs.
"Fair enough," said Blaine smiling in return.
He stepped back and held his hand out to Kurt.
"So, shall we?" he asked. Blaine looked around the train car. "I think I'm quite done with railway travel for a while," he admitted.
Kurt nodded as he threaded his fingers through Blaine's. "Where to?" he asked.
"I don't think it really matters," Blaine said as he lifted Kurt's hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "As long as we're together."
The two men walked down the train corridor, slowly fading away from view.
"Fearlessly and forever?" Kurt's voice echoed in the empty train car.
"Fearlessly and forever," Blaine replied.