A/N: So the reason this update took longer than I'd hoped is because I haven't been feeling very inspired recently. As Stephen King puts it in his book Misery, I didn't have "the gotta" that one needs to write a good story. Anyway, today it came back for some reason—probably because Glee came back yesterday, but whatever—and I finished the next installment. It's a bit shorter than usual but I felt that it was a good stopping point at the end. The next chapter will pick up immediately after the end of this one.
It doesn't take long before they start to hear the sirens.
In fact, the high pitched sounds begin their squeal just as the boys shut the door of Kurt's apartment.
Blaine stops cold, his face paling to a deathly white. The boys still have their fingers tightly intertwined, and Kurt can feel Blaine's palms growing clammy with anxiety. If Kurt were to possess a heartbeat, he estimates that it would be beating almost as fast, and almost as frantically, as the boy's next to him.
"I…I thought we had more time…" Blaine whispers, his lips barely moving.
Kurt moves to grasp Blaine by the shoulders, leaving the boy's hand to quiver at his side.
"Hey, look at me," Kurt says, his tone soft but firm. "Don't panic, alright? We're going to make it. We'll figure something out."
He lifts his right hand to cup Blaine's cheek gently, his thumbs massaging circles into the whitened skin. It brushes briefly over the corner of Blaine's lips and the boy's cheeks grow light pink beneath the touch. Blaine nods numbly, but his deadened stare remains fixed in front of him, much to Kurt's disappointment and concern.
"I won't let them hurt you," Kurt says with resolve, squaring his jaw and regarding Blaine with a look so intensely emotional he sees a small shudder pass through the shorter boy's rigid body, finally registering something other than fear.
Before the moment slips away from his fingertips, Kurt leans in quickly and presses his lips hard against Blaine's, pulling their bodies flush together and gripping his fingers roughly in the soft, dark curls. The kiss only lasts for a few seconds, but as he pulls away he can see the glint in Blaine's eyes, can sense the shot of adrenaline rushing through his veins. He notices Blaine's face is no longer as pale as a sheet, rather, it is a healthy red, and the fear induced trance is no longer present.
"Are you okay now?" Kurt asks, his voice a bit breathless.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine…"
"Good…now come on, follow me."
They take off down the hallway, turning corners with a slight caution, wary of the unknown that lies just around each one. Kurt knows the floor plan of the building well enough he could walk it blindfolded, and he leads Blaine in the direction of the elevators, stopping abruptly once they reach the doors.
"Kurt…Kurt, why don't we use the stairs? I have a bad feeling…" Blaine's voice dies just as they hear distant sounds of footsteps and the slam of a door, obviously someone returning to their home.
Once they are sure they are out of earshot, Kurt replies softly, "We wouldn't make it out in time. And the police are going to be stationed at the stairs too, so no matter which we choose we're going to have to deal with some of them."
"But…what about the cameras inside?" Blaine asks, his voice carrying a slight tremor of fear from before. He eyes the doors of the elevator shaft with carnal distrust. "They'll be able to see us as we go down, right?"
Kurt considers this carefully, his brow furrowing in thought.
"Here, hold on," he says finally, slipping out of the straps of his backpack and dropping it to the floor. He bends over and yanks at one of the zippers, pushing his hand in the small pocket and rummaging a bit before pulling out a pair of sunglasses and handing them wordlessly to Blaine.
"They're aviators, so you'll be stylish and people won't be able to see your eyes. Win-win as far as I'm concerned."
Blaine slides them doubtfully onto the bridge of his nose, swallowing nervously as they sheath his entire world with darker tint. He feels uncomfortable wearing them, much preferring the rawness of normal sight and the trust in his own, pure vision. Shadows cloud every corner that was once only slightly shaded and he frowns at how each spot ripples in the curve of the lenses as he moves, like quiet monsters waiting to catch him when he blinks.
"Why do people even own these anymore?" Blaine mumbles to himself. "It's freaking night all the time…what purpose do they even serve?"
Kurt snorts in reply and quips, "An accessory is and accessory, no matter their function...or their lack of one."
Blaine rolls his eyes, hiding his apprehension beneath the thick skin of sarcasm. He glances around the hallway, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the mirror like glass.
"Kurt…are you sure?" he begins again, his voice higher pitched than normal.
"Everything will be fine," Kurt replies stubbornly, jaw firmly set. "They're looking for suspicious behavior, Blaine. As long as you don't act like you should be wearing a black jumpsuit and a ski mask, I think we'll be okay."
"I'm not robbing a bank; I'm running for my life. Feel free to say otherwise, but I think that's a whole different behavior pattern they'll be looking for."
"In their minds, you are robbing them of something," Kurt retorts. Blaine shoots him a questioning look and Kurt answers with his hands poised on his hips.
"You. You're robbing them of you. I don't know if you realize how desperate we are for blood, but it's gotten crazy. Blaine, you've got to pull yourself together and do this with conviction or else they'll find you like a drug-sniffing dog. I need you to just…pretend for a few minutes, okay?" Kurt takes a deep breath and draws his hand across his forehead, closing his eyes to calm down his slowly mounting nerves.
"Just pretend that you're supposed to be here. Pretend that we're just two people, that you and I are going camping for the weekend, and we're holding hands like a couple, and we're a little confused at all the commotion downstairs as we walk out, but we want to have a good time so we disregard it and keep going…" Kurt opens his eyes and gazes at Blaine pleadingly, his hint of desperation a razor edge cutting through Blaine's doubt like a knife through warm butter. "Just, create a scenario in your head, and believe it. Believe that it's true. Can you do that? Please, can you do that for me?"
After a beat of hesitation, Blaine nods silently.
He takes a deep breath and shifts in his stance, standing straighter and taller and lifting his chin. Glancing at the ceiling for a moment, he sends up a silent prayer before clearing his throat gruffly and, with a sharp tug, secures the straps on his pack, turning to Kurt with a fabricated—though convincing— smile.
"Ready for the great outdoors, hun?" he asks with mock enthusiasm. Kurt laughs a bit in reply, but stares at Blaine with a mix of relief and affection.
"You're strong, you know?" he says softly, taking Blaine's hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. He holds his gaze for a moment longer before turning and pressing the button for the elevator.
The wait for the car is its own form of torture, but Blaine refuses to lapse back into fear. The only indication of nervousness is the tightening of his hand in Kurt's, the grip becoming nearly white knuckled as the large metal doors slide open to reveal a mercifully empty compartment.
"Keep in character," Kurt murmurs as they step inside.
Blaine has to force himself not to search for the camera mounted in one of the corners. Instead he busies himself by pulling Kurt closer against his chest, running his unoccupied hand along the thin strip of the boy's lower back where his shirt had ridden up with the bag. Blaine leans in closely and rests his forehead against Kurt's, breathing deeply and taking comfort in the clean, homey scent that envelops his senses. Kurt hums contentedly and leans in to capture Blaine's mouth in a lingering kiss, his fingers toying with the few wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.
"Everything will be okay. I promise." Kurt whispers almost inaudibly against Blaine's barely quivering lips. The consistent ping as they pass each floor echoes against the steel-plated walls, crashing like symbols in Blaine's mind after each tone.
Ping…ping…ping…ping…
And suddenly, before he can even take one more breath in preparation, the car jolts to a stop and the doors part to reveal the too-tastefully decorated lobby.
Blaine's heart practically drops out of his chest and onto the floor.
Because, within the pompously arranged main level, with its pristine lines and lint-less couches and geometric chandeliers, hordes of policemen are gathered, waiting and armed.
They stand there in anticipation, their navy uniforms crisply pressed and their badges splaying shards of light against the polished tile floors as they shift and mumble, eyes narrowed and flickering throughout the room with sharp suspicion.
And all of them, every last man and woman, look absolutely ravenous.
Kurt just manages to contain a yelp of pain as Blaine practically crushes his hand. As they step out of the elevator, he consciously glances around with feigned curiosity, shoving back the alarm rising in his chest and calling upon his acting expertise from high school to appear the innocent passerby. Every single face in the room snaps around and every pair of sinister eyes becomes trained on the two of them, rigid bodies unmoving, focused, hungry…
"What's all this about?" Kurt hears Blaine ask, his tone light and faintly concerned. Kurt chances a glance at Blaine's expression and finds the boy's features to be surprisingly calm and controlled.
But he knows better. His position in relation to Blaine allows him to look through the gap in the side of the sunglasses, and the hollow cavern in his chest grows cold as he sees how widened Blaine's eyes are, nearly bulging with raw, palpable terror. It is a wonder that Blaine isn't shaking, that he isn't collapsing into a symphony of his own screams like he probably wishes to, that he isn't breaking away in a sprint towards the tall, glass doors that suddenly seem so far away.
Kurt becomes privy to one thing as they pause in the path of the closing elevator door.
Blaine is an extraordinary actor.
The fact that Blaine's face is deathly pale only adds to his believability as they begin to make small strides through the crowd, their hands joined tightly together despite the slickness of Blaine's sweat on their palms. They keep a safe distance from each statue-like person, Kurt praying fervently that they not hear Blaine's motoring heartbeat, the one part of his façade the poor boy can't control.
The crackling of a radio shatters the silence and makes Kurt and Blaine jump a little, though the others appear to have no reaction, their already narrowed eyes creasing into small slits as the boys pass.
"Either of you heard rumors of a human refugee in this place?" one of them asks from behind.
Kurt and Blaine freeze mid-step, and Blaine takes a quiet, shaky inhale, the cracks in his composure slowly starting to expand and crumble at the edges. Kurt rubs his thumb in soothing circles along the back of his hand and, thankfully, Blaine seems to regain his grip on himself. They turn around to answer just before the length of their pause could be considered suspicious.
"Pardon me? A human? Why would there be a human here, of all places? This is a luxury apartment building." Kurt answers a bit snidely, his tone aloof and sprinkled with conceit.
Blaine pipes in after him, placing a hand on Kurt's forearm.
"Hun, that's rude," he chides softly, though loud enough that most around them can hear. "I bet it could happen."
Blaine's hand trembles ever so slightly against Kurt's skin.
"Oh please," Kurt continues, desperately trying to draw attention away from Blaine for a moment so the boy can recuperate. "How could a human possibly survive in one of the most populated cities in the continental United States? The odds would be astronomical."
The policeman from before steps forward from his group, his wide-set frame and squared jaw intimidating to the two smaller boys, and suddenly they find themselves moving closer to one another, their grasp tightening as the burly man regards them with a slightly disgusted leer.
"Well, I know it sounds astronomical, but it's true. Someone in this building must hate their country because they're knowingly housing a human and sheltering it from authorities." The man shakes his head, glaring at the wall behind Kurt and Blaine. "People can be so selfish these days. There are other citizens starving to death while they play around with a human like it's their own personal toy. Keeping it all to themselves…could probably feed on it whenever they wanted…just…selfish..."
By this time the officer's eyes are glazed with something closely identifiable to lust.
Kurt is close enough to Blaine to see the sheen of cold sweat beading along his hairline, to hear the barely concealed, wheezing gasps stealing past his teeth.
They start backing away, Kurt nodding to the rest of the police who seem to have lapsed into their own trance-like fantasies.
As they pass by one who idly licks her lips, Blaine can't help but let out a choked whimper. Kurt quickly covers it with a loud "Ahem", smiling sheepishly to all whose gazes snap back to the present.
"Well, I hope you find whoever is doing this. I for one think they're despicable for even considering such a thing, what with the blood crisis and all," he says with a sense of finality, turning back toward the door and almost towing Blaine along as well.
They manage to make it all the way across the lobby and out of the crowd. The front glass doors lay within arm's reach and they force themselves to move slowly, to not throw out their arms barge through. Just as Kurt's fingers touch the handles though, the man's low voice echoes through the room, stopping them cold in their tracks.
"Say, where are you two going with the bags?"
Kurt pauses and swallows hard. He feels the warmth of Blaine's previously drenched hand turn icy against his.
"Camping. We've made a vow to do it every weekend," he finally replies, though to an avid listener, his voice would come across a tad bit strained. Fortunately, most of the policemen seem to be too distracted by the thought of blood to pay full attention, and they take Kurt's statement as truth.
Most being the key term. The wide-set man gives Kurt a skeptical eye, his lips drooping into a frown.
"You don't seem like the camping type," he says pointedly, his gaze colder than Kurt's liking.
A twinge of irritation shoots through the auburn-haired boy and Kurt throws him an equally chilling stare. Even with the new era of species, ignorance has not been fully extinguished, and every encounter with it leaves Kurt with a sour taste in his mouth and an annoyance equal to that of a splinter up his nail.
"Yeah, well, at least we're trying, right?" he nearly hisses, turning back again and pulling the door open. He uses his thumb to tap on the back of Blaine's hand, reminding him not to run just yet. Reminding him to be patient. He can feel the cool air from the streets hitting his face like a gift from heaven, can hear the sounds of it rushing along the faces of buildings and through the tunnel like street beneath them. Freedom is so close he can taste it. But if they screw up now, all is lost. Ushering Blaine through the door first just to get him out, he uses his free hand to sweep back his coif again with an essence of pomp, smirking to himself as he does.
"Have a good day," he shoots over his shoulder before finally, finally walking out.
Please review! They keep me so motivated, I'm serious. Help me maintain the "gotta" you guys!