chapter xvii
Kurt wouldn't ever get over people three times his age looking to him for guidance. But, he supposed, considering he was the only one unaffected by whatever the voice belonged to, it wasn't entirely illogical.
On the other hand, Kurt was almost entirely hopeless. He could boss people around and cut through proverbial skin with words sharpened by years of abuse – but it was his mom and Blaine who were the ones who thought to put the children in the centre of everyone, who ignored whatever was going on in their heads to comfort everyone and encourage them to stay strong.
"Just think of home," Blaine murmured, clasping a little girl's hands in his own until she stopped crying and nodded. His own skin was ashen and sweat beaded along his hairline, and still he was more useful than Kurt.
If Kurt weren't so damn proud of his boyfriend, he would be burning with jealousy.
He caught Blaine's eye as the other boy stood up and smiled at him, and Blaine's returning smile was shaky.
"I think someone should stay with the kids," said the disbelieving ass of a man from earlier, "to be the last line of defence, and such."
"And I suppose you think that should be you," Kurt bites back at him.
"I don't see why not."
"Not that it really matters either way," Blaine said, "since you're only dreaming, and such."
Kurt had the best boyfriend ever.
At Kurt's shoulder, Ellie said, "Actually, it's not a bad idea, but it would be more effective if there were more people. Don't you agree, Mr. Clarkson?"
The man spluttered and blustered, and a small, spiteful part of Kurt was satisfied. The rest of him remained concerned about Blaine and his mom and the children and everyone they hadn't managed to return to consciousness.
There hadn't been much noise, but now, disquiet rippled over the small group; the face of the little girl Blaine had been talking to was screwed up, but instead of crying again she seemed to stop breathing completely. Kurt whirled around, and with each new sight, his terror grew.
At the circumference of the courtyard, not equidistant or strategically placed, were more of the creature which had attacked Kurt in the forest. There were five, for now. The shortest probably wouldn't even reach to Kurt's ribs, the largest was four of Kurt's width, but they all had the commonalities of twisted features, grey and rotting flesh, and misshapen bodies. Pain flared in his jaw again, and he could almost feel the slickness of blood on his fingers.
They were . . . they were what happened when people stayed here too long. They were what Blaine and Ellie could have become.
Mr. Clarkson swore, and then everyone else began to panic. Blaine turned to the children, and so did a couple of the women; Kurt turned to his mom and tried to forget the phantom pain.
"Stay with the children," Ellie whispered quickly to him. "You and Blaine both, okay?"
Leave his mother? Leave her to die again? No way. He'd pass the message onto Blaine but the only thing that could make Kurt part from his mother again was waking up.
"You have to, sweetheart." Her hands lightly kissed his cheeks. "You're still alive. You have to stay alive."
Kurt opened his mouth but, for once, he didn't know what to say. There was too much and not enough, so he just nodded, wiped away his tears, and let go. He needed to find Blaine in the moving mass. And he did, while Ellie began trying to calm everyone down again, and found Blaine inside the rough circle of women with the young children. He slipped between them and threw his arms around his boyfriend, hiding his face in his back.
"Kurt," Blaine breathed out. He struggled in Kurt's unloosening grasp to turn around and then returned Kurt's hug. His hold was just as tight.
"We'll wake up," Kurt promised. Blaine nodded and kissed his cheek.
That was when the screaming began.
"Don't let go!" Kurt shouted, carrying one of the children as he weaved between running bodies and made his way onto the pagoda. Another clung to his shirt. He only hoped the other two children were with Blaine, and that Blaine was right behind him, and that his mom was alright.
They weren't the only ones to think of the pagoda; already on it were three more people, and they were destroying the bridges.
As Kurt put down the little boy, Blaine appeared in his peripheral vision, and part of him relaxed.
Behind them, Mr. Clarkson's scream abruptly stopped.
"Think of home," Blaine whispered, getting the attention of the children. "Think of your moms and dads and grandparents and friends and your special blanket, okay?"
"I wan' mama."
"I know," Kurt said as he crouched down. He met briefly met Blaine's eye – and behind him, he saw the demon, its appearance constantly shifting except for the holes where its eyes and mouth should be – and tried to smile, because Blaine looked completely unable to right now, and then turned back to the children. "I know, honey. But you need to think about how much you love her, okay? Not how much you miss her. Can you do that?"
The boy trembled, tears and snot running down his face. But he nodded.
Someone let out a gurgling cry, someone else crashed into the water; the children screamed and gathered closer, to each other and Kurt and Blaine. Blaine reached out gently pulled them to be sitting on the floor.
"Don't pay any attention to what's going on out there," he said, meeting all their eyes one by one. Watching him, Kurt struggled not to cry. "It's not important. What's important is that you think about home and everyone you love. If you think about your mama really hard," he directed to the little boy, and then he looked up at Kurt, "if you think about your papa really hard, I promise you'll see them again."
Another noise made them jump again, and Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, lost.
"I love you," Blaine said, and Kurt's eyes welled up.
"I love you, too." He tried to smile. When that failed, he pulled Blaine into a kiss. It was the most desperate one they had shared, pressed so close together it was far more uncomfortable than loving, but it was the closest he would ever be to Blaine now.
Feet running over the only remaining bridge, and they tear apart and look – and Kurt scrambles to his feet and staggers forwards on numb legs because it's his mother, no more than superficially wounded.
"Mom," he sobbed out. She held him, and moved them back to Blaine and the children and allowed them to cling to her as well.
"Whatever you were just doing," she said, "I think it's working. The – those things were just exploding on their own."
Face hidden in Ellie's blouse, Kurt managed to blush.
"They were kissing," one of the children said.
"I love Kurt," Blaine said. "So it's like we thought? It's thinking about who we love that'll get us out?"
"Come here." Ellie held out her arms and the children scrambled into her lap. Kurt curled up in Blaine's arms and hardly blinked for staring as she began to sing.
"Moon river, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style someday. You dream maker, you heartbreaker, wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way."
The more the children quieted, the shakier Ellie's voice became, and the more Blaine trembled against Kurt's body. Kurt laid a hand over Blaine's arm and linked their fingers together with the other.
"Two drifters off to see the world – there's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' round the bend, my huckleberry friend, moon river and me."
Blaine gasped and his grip tightened so much Kurt could barely breathe. So he tore his eyes from his mom, cupped Blaine's cheeks, and kissed him.
"Moon river, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style someday. You dream maker, you heartbreaker, wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way.
"Two drifters off to see the world – there's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' round the bend, my huckleberry friend, moon river, and me."
Kurt and Blaine parted with a light wet smack – and the sound almost seemed to echo in the sudden near-silence. Kurt looked around and hardly even knew what to make of the nearly empty landscape. There were far too few people still standing, but more of the souls off in the distance seemed to be coming round. He couldn't see any sign of the creatures or the demon having existed at all. And to top it off, the world was getting lighter, as if the sun were finally rising.
He was brought back out of his head by Blaine, who let out a cheerful shout and threw his arms around Kurt's neck.
"We did it! We won!"
Laughter – a little hysterical, a lot joyous – bubbled from Kurt's throat, and he returned the hug with such force that they almost fell over. And though there wasn't even the slightest gap between their bodies, Blaine was barely tangible against him.
A hand brushed his shoulders, and his mom said, "Kurt."
For a moment, Kurt didn't move. But Blaine was growing evermore transparent, and he would never see his mom again. So he turned around and met Ellie's watering eyes.
"I am so very proud of you," she said, smiling, "and I love you so much."
"I love you, Mom." Kurt tried to smile back, but, god, this was the last time he'd ever see her. Tears spilled over his cheeks; she pulled him and Blaine close. "I'm gonna miss you so much."
To Kurt, she replied, "Look after your dad," and to Blaine, she said, "And you look after Kurt, alright?"
"Of course, Ellie. And Kurt—" Kurt turned his head but couldn't tear his eyes from his mother's fading face. He felt Blaine's curls brush his neck. "—Kurt, I promise I'll remember you when we wake up."
Ellie's mouth moved even as she disappeared completely.
Kurt opened his eyes, and under the bustling noise of conversation he heard the steady rhythm of a heart monitor.
Song credit: 'Moon River' from Breakfast at Tiffany's (lyrics and composition originally by Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer).