“Too late. We’re fucking through.”

Blaine kind of can’t believe his ears.

“Kurt – Kurt, baby, you don’t mean-“

A sharp slap stings through the room, and Blaine starts to believe a little.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Padded footsteps echo down the hall, and from the hushed, excited whisperings that are coming from every direction, no-one else is having trouble believing it.

Kurt appears a moment later, defiantly staring down anyone who looks twice, and Blaine can’t stop staring, thinking. Kurt just – he looks so angry, and it’s all expressed so much. The way his body moves rapidly down the hall, like a fast train on a rusty track. His eyes are icy and burning and tear-filled all at once; everyone who looks for more than a second can see it.

Blaine’s been looking for as long as he can when Kurt finally spots him.

They both go to speak at the same time and there’s a moment of humour and pause until Kurt nods towards the kitchen – secluded, private, entirely confrontational – and Blaine nods to follow.

Blaine knew he would be stupid to think that people weren’t paying attention, or that this would end happily for him – but it’s not like it hurt to dream, right?

*

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Head reeling from the slap – his current, drunken state doesn’t help either – Sebastian manages to pull himself up. Attempts to control his breathing, scans the room with warily defiant eyes.

That little whore.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen. Drinks some water. Tries to regain himself, fails. Whispers echo through the hall, and he hears his own name mentioned a few times.

Sebastian sighs – he’s so busy looking down that he barely notices McSlutty and Hairgel walking through and stopping on the other side of the bench.

What the fuck is with this guy?

Through the muttered whispers on the other side, he can feel irritation creeping through his veins and making itself dominant. Turns his head a little to the side, and there’s a glint of silver in the corner of his eye.

Sebastian looks again, smiles a little too wide.

Butcher knives.

*

“I’m sorry.”

They stop, and before Blaine can process it he’s spinning and facing Kurt.

“W-what?”

He’s so perfect.

“I know you’re not the most confident guy in the world, and I know people treat you like shit every day but-” Kurt sniffles a little, “-but believe it or not, Blaine, you’re really sweet.”

Fuck.

“-and you’re going to find someone just as amazing as you, Blaine, I promise.”

Kurt steps closer, hands on his shoulders.

“But it’s not me.”

Hands sliding up neck, cupping Blaine’s cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

And then Kurt’s lips are on his and Blaine’s heart is ramming like a wild bull up against his ribcage and he wants to sob because he’s just so happy and heartbroken at the same time.

Neither of them notices the almost too-loud footsteps or the drunken shadow emerging from the other side of the room.

Blaine hardly notices when he feels a white-hot arch slice itself into his back, but he finds himself falling to his knees and letting out a cry and breathing far too harshly for someone who just got his first kiss.

He can hear panic in the distance, and then Kurt’s right in front of him and cursing more than he normally does and Blaine can’t figure out why until he tries to stand back up.

“We need an ambulance!”

Blaine’s not sure who screams it, but he can’t do much more than lean into the crook of Kurt’s shoulder and pant a little and scream into the quickly thinning air. The feeling in his back is returning, and it feels like someone’s clawing out his skin and bone and marrow in a knife-shape.

“W-what…happened?”

“Sebastian stabbed you but it’s all going to be okay, fuck, oh god.”

Blaine shifts a little, lets out a muffled scream against Kurt’s shoulder. He can see the kitchen bench growing darker at the edges, and his blood is thumping in his ears again.

“Oh god, Blaine-“Kurt’s bawling,”-I’m so fucking sorry.”

All he can do is clench with the tips of his fingers and breathe slow and let Kurt’s voice lead him into quiet, black peace.