"It's...quaint?" Kurt's tone was an attempt to sound optimistic. He tried his best to offer a sincere compliment for Blaine's vehicle. But he blurted it out as a question instead. The car was, for all intents and purposes, a metal death trap. Kurt wasn't sure what brand or model it was for any existing label had faded with age. The paint was chipping, the color faded by years of weathering. The only discernible feature of the truck was that it was a pick-up. Kurt peered over the ledge of the bed, not surprised that it was saturated with rust. "I hope you have a tetanus shot." Blaine snorted while Kurt rolled his eyes.
"While I appreciate the effort, you don't need to feign politeness." Blaine smiled, his elbow resting on the ledge of the truck. His body was turned to Kurt and the language of his form was open. Inviting. "This isn't even my car. I would have gotten something nicer, but I figured it would be best to remain...inconspicuous." It was a sour reminder that they had an important job to do. A prophesied duty that they both swore to uphold. It still felt foreign to Kurt. He still wasn't certain it was the best decision. But he trusted Blaine. With every fiber of feeble being. It terrified Kurt, placing that amount of faith into someone. Let alone someone he barely knew. The invisible chain that bound them seamlessly together disagreed with Kurt's confliction. It was as sure as the links that clamped in tandem, their sturdy loops anchoring the two beings together. It comforted Kurt's in these brief bouts of indecision.
"It's okay. I understand. A flashy car would only draw more attention. Besides, the rust gives it character. Don't you think?"
"Sure, if that's how you define character." Blaine looked at the sky, sensing the rapidly approaching twilight that was sneaking its way through the clouds. "We should probably start to head out. Do you need me to stop anywhere before we leave for Massachusetts?" Blaine opted to loop his finger around the handle of Kurt's duffle bag, filled to the brim with Kurt's personal items and clothing. He gently deposited the luggage in the small crevice behind the front seat.
Kurt thought for a moment. He was missing something. Something important and crucial to his journey of awaited discovery. "Yes, actually. Do you think we could stop at the library? It's still open. I'd like to check out a book." Blaine nodded. Kurt made his way around the tail end of the truck to get to the passenger seat. However, he didn't get to the door as fast as Blaine had. The dark-haired man held the rusted door open with a blinding smile, his golden orbs dancing with mirth behind those luscious lashes of his. His large hand, palms facing forward, was held out to assist Kurt with stepping up into the truck. Kurt blushed, suddenly feeling transported back into time, back to an era where this type of decorum was an expected norm. It felt nice, even if a little heteronormative.
"Chivalry. Who knew it wasn't dead?" Blaine deadpanned, hoping Kurt wasn't uncomfortable with such a blatant display of masculine decorum and affection. He was satisfied when Kurt laughed in response and smiled a sweet smile. So sweet it nearly gave Blaine a toothache. He made an internal promise that he'd attempt to fish out those grins as often as he could. The times ahead we're going to be so dark and so treacherous. He wanted to savor the sight before whatever nefarious being that was brewing in the midst came for them. Before the smiles and laughter would be much less frequent as seriousness and responsibly would inevitably settle in.
Blaine turned the key in the ignition, the corroded hunk of metal roaring to life. A pop song neither of the two men recognized blared through the decrepit speakers, static afflicting the synth-infused bass line.
When they arrived at campus Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt and said, "you don't have to come with me. I'll be in and out. Besides, it will make it easier on Chandler if you weren't there." Blaine looked unenthusiastic at the prospect of leaving Kurt vulnerable. He relinquished his protective instincts for just this moment. He would have plenty of time to satisfy the wolf's desire to guard the paler man in the times to come.
"Fine. Be careful, Kurt. Please." Blaine's eyes were sincere, concern etching itself into the tawny orbs. "And take my jacket, it's getting colder." He shimmied off the leather jacket off his shoulders and held it out to Kurt. He accepted it with a timid nod of appreciation. It was oversized, the leather swallowing his willowy frame. He pulled the collar under his nose and breathed in. It smelled exactly like Blaine. His thoughts predictably rounded back to the raven-haired man while the heels of his boots clicked on the cobblestone pavers. The cherry blossoms had, for the most part, fallen. Their pink-tinted petals scattered across the land as they were no longer conjoined to branches which were now bare. It was a sign of change. A passing of seasons. Or in Kurt's case, a passing of responsibility. The wind licked the air around Kurt, sending the decaying flowers in a collection of small whirls that rounded in circles.
He reached the doors of the library in record time.
As predicted, Chandler was occupying his usual seat at the front desk. He visibly perked up at the sight of Kurt. "Kurt! Long time no see! I was beginning to think you ran away." His was insufferably chipper. Kurt had to remind himself to be kind. Chandler was a nice guy. Just a nice guy who happened to be annoyingly inadequate at picking up hints of disinterest. Besides, he had to manipulate Chandler's affections for what he was about to do.
"Good evening, Chandler! I hope you're well. Sorry I haven't been in the library. I've been having...a family emergency." It was a lie that spilled from his lips with ease. The story was predictable, but it was the one that seemed the most plausible for Kurt to take time off from school and research. His academic advisors had not been pleased at the sudden disappearing act he was about pull. But it was hard for them to argue against an alleged familial crisis. He vowed that he wouldn't let his research suffer the consequences of his actions. Which is why he was here, about to do something that was strictly forbidden for students of his position.
He needed the transcribed journals of the Salem witches.
"Oh my god, I'm terribly sorry for you." Chandler's eyes welled up with genuine concern. Kurt was touched. He felt guilty for lying about such a tragic predicament. "If you need anything, anything at all, you just let me know." Chandler's nubby fingers placed themselves on top of Kurt's. He could use this to his advantage. Kurt eyelids dropped, his lashes batting coyly.
"Actually, there is something I had in mind…" Kurt's voice got high and breathy. Seduction was an art. An art that he wasn't exactly intimately familiar with. It seemed to be working. Chandler was utterly enraptured, his mouth open with desire and his pale blue eyes on fire.
"Yeah...anything you want. And I mean anything." Chandler emphasized the last word, stressing his seriousness.
"Are you sure? It's not exactly...allowed." Chandler nodded, wanting to know what his request was. "I really need the Salem witch journals. It would mean so much to me if I could rent them out for a few months." Kurt bit his lip before pouting for added effect. Chandler's trance was broken in an instant.
"Oh, I can't do that Kurt. Renting out books are strictly reserved for professors. Especially the Salem journals. Those are too important of texts to let students rent out all willy nilly." Kurt deflated. He severely overestimated his seductive capabilities.
You could always use magic, Kurt. The shadowed voices murmured, rustling from their hiding place in the crevices of Kurt's psyche. Magic was too new to him. He didn't even know where to begin. He needed the voices of the void to guide him. He silently asked them for assistance.
Drag the tips of your fingers along his palms...feel the blood heating up with desire. Isolate it. Kurt obliged, coaxing the emotion from Chandler's life source. Open your third eye. Now gaze into his. Peer deep into his soul. Peruse his thoughts. Latch onto the ones of you. Kurt did. He ventured into the cavernous depths of Chandler's mind. He tried his best to evade the deeply personal thoughts. He felt terrible for invading his privacy like this. Kurt elapsed by Chandler's deepest and darkest fears, his aspirations, and his other surface level thoughts. He settled on the others man's section of brain matter that centered around the pleasure principles and love. He'd find himself there.
What he saw was exactly what he expected. It was so odd seeing oneself from someone else's perspective. It was mostly of Kurt. He was naked in most of the moving picture of thoughts. He was bathed in fluorescent natural light, his milky skin reflecting it back onto the viewer. He was in all sorts of compromising positions. Chandler had quite a bit of...colorful fantasies.
Lock onto the thoughts of you. Exploit them. Make him think you're literally the center of his world.
Kurt tried his best to follow the shadow's instructions. He quarantined the cluster of thoughts that held desire and affection and amplified them to the forefront of Chandler's mind. The manipulated man's eyes glazed over in a giddy haze of infatuation.
He's yours. A job well done, Kurt. Ask of him what you will.
"I need the Salem journals. And with an extended withdrawal. Predictably without my name attached to it." Kurt's eyes were wary, not entirely convinced this was going to work. Chandler paused for a moment, a dopey smile gracing his face.
"Extended withdrawal of important texts are only reserved for professors." Kurt sucked his teeth, frustrated that the magic wasn't working in his favor. "But for you...I'll make an exception." His fingers danced across the keyboard as he entered in the necessary information. "Okay, you're all set. Return them whenever you get back."
"Oh my god, you're a lifesaver! Thank you. Truly." They smiled at each other for a moment.
Release the amplification before it gets too messy. Love spells are more troublesome than they're worth.
Kurt perused back through Chandler's mind looking for the part he had magnified. He shrunk it back to normal, making sure everything appeared as though it was untouched. Satisfied that his attempt at magic was successful, he made his way to check out the books he needed.
As he slid the last journal out of the bookshelf, a cold hand wrapped his wrist. Kurt looked up in shock, wondering who it was that was invading his personal space. It was Adam. Kurt shivered. Piercing blue eyes, frigid as ice, looked at him with an attentive glare. Kurt squirmed, feeling as though he was some unsuspecting prey about to be pinned.
"Hello, Adam." He spit his name out, his hand unraveling the other man's grip on his wrist. "Fancy seeing you here." It wasn't fancy meeting him. Not in the slightest.
"You too, dear." Adam licks his lips, his gaze sizing Kurt up. "Something is different about you. You're glowing. I can almost taste the power rolling off of you. I can definitely smell it." He sniffed, his straight nose nearly brushing his neck. "I smell the wolf too. You should really reconsider the company you keep, Kurt. Filth is unbecoming of such an alluring creature as yourself." His voice was smug, relishing in Kurt's growing discomfort
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous." Kurt's eyes hardened, his full lips settling into a smirk. He didn't want Adam to know he was intimidated. "Perhaps you should worry less about my powers, and more about your own safety."
Focus on the blood vessels in his brain. Enlarge them. He'll have an aneurysm. He won't die. Vampires seldom do.
Kurt listened to the voices. He used his third eye, the same one he used to charm Chandler, and peered into Adam's brain. He looked intently toward the pale pink folds of cerebral matter to find the vessels. When he saw them, they were filled with blood so dark it was black.
Kurt sneered at Adam, his icy exterior at full effect. He smiled deviously as he pinpointed the vessel and enlarged it, ballooning it just a few centimeters. Adam's vainglorious aura diminished instantly. He kept his face passive, the only signal giving away that he was in pain was the subtle twitch of his left eye. A trickle of black blood oozed out of his nostrils.
Release him, Kurt. There's too many witnesses. This was just an act to establish you are not one to be trifled with.
Kurt waited for a moment, reveling in satisfaction at being underestimated. He wasn't nearly as delicate as everyone thought him to be. When he let the blood vessel revert to their original shape, Adam doubled over, his undead lungs heaving. He wiped his nose with the end of his crisp, white sleeve.
"That's unfortunate. You've ruined such a nice shirt. Burberry, isn't it? Blood is such a troublesome stain to get out." Kurt examined his nails and exhaled a sassy huff. "Do yourself a favor. Don't fuck with me. You will lose. Every. Single. Time." Kurt gathered his books and turned on his heel to leave.
"Oh, Kurt." Kurt stilled his feet but didn't turn around. "Try to take care of yourself. We need you in one piece." Kurt rolled his eyes, but the spike in his heartbeat betrayed him. He was scared. The message was too dangerously cryptic not to be.
He practically ran across the stone pavers towards Blaine's pickup truck. The sky had darkened considerably, the stars trying to shine through the veil of clouds. His shaken hands gripped the handle to open the rusted door. Blaine and Kurt looked at each, exhaustion filling the gaze of the paler man.
"Let's get the fuck out of dodge."
The engine roared to life, its weary tires groaning on the asphalt. The two men, encased in a hunk of oxidized metal, drove away with haste.
The reflection of the dreary campus dwindled in the rear-view mirror, the last remaining remnants of Kurt's old life disappearing in their wake.