Kurt Hummel’s designer watch shows just after midnight when he steps out into the chilly April night and he pulls his thin black jacket tighter around his body. He’s finally managed to escape the increasingly tipsy company of Finn, Rachel and Chandler and is grateful for the crisp night air caressing his face. Not that he dislikes their company per se, the hot and rowdy bar they frequent just isn’t his scene and he’s glad to leave. Plus, he has an early class in the morning and that had been enough to convince Chandler not to come home with him. Kurt barely resists rolling his eyes when he thinks back on the conversation.

(“But you know how much I love spooning you, I had been looking forward to that tonight!”

“I know Chandler, I’m sorry. But I have to get up early tomorrow and I know how clingy you are in the mornings, you’ll keep me in bed for hours after we wake up. Not tonight.”

“But I promise I’ll be good!” Chandler had added with a pout that was clearly meant to be adorable but Kurt had to bite back a laugh because it honestly just came out ridiculous.

“We both know that’s a promise you can’t keep,” Kurt had said with a final tone in his voice, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s pout before waving goodbye to Finn and Rachel and leaving.)'

Kurt knows he’s probably being unfair to Chandler sometimes, it’s honestly not the boy’s fault that he’s absolutely head over heels for someone who doesn’t really feel the same way. They’ve been officially together for almost 10 months now and Kurt’s slowly realizing that he’s never going to fall in love with Chandler. He likes him, sure, he’s nice and cuddly and enthusiastic about a lot of things that are close to Kurt’s heart but the right feeling just isn’t there. No matter how much he tries, Kurt feels no fireworks when they kiss and often find excuses to cancel their dates. Yes, Kurt knows he’s being unfair but he’s clueless when it comes to approaching the problem. Chandler is his first boyfriend and he has no idea how to deal with a possible end to their relationship.

Too lost in his own thoughts, Kurt realizes too late that he’s being followed. He barely has time to react to the quickly approaching footsteps behind him before a strong hand closes over his mouth and another over his bicep and he’s dragged helplessly into a dark alleyway. He panics, tries to kick and scream but the hand over his mouth keeps his sounds muffled and he’s thrown to the ground and held there before he has time to direct a kick to his attacker’s groin. Kurt is far from a weak little boy, in fact he’s much stronger that you’d think but his attacker is bigger than him and seems drunk both on alcohol and adrenaline. With his left hand still firmly clasped over Kurt’s mouth and most of his weight settled on Kurt’s legs he starts tearing at his clothes, shaking off any punches Kurt manages to throw at him.

Kurt is almost paralyzed by fear now, not only for being raped but he actually fears for his life. His attempts to knock his attacker out with his fists are fruitless and the man seems wild, rabid, almost like an animal. Kurt is very close to praying to a deity he doesn’t believe in when his flailing right hand finds a hard, heavy object. His attacker is still holding his mouth and therefore his head in place so he can’t turn to look at it, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out that the object is a brick.

He grasps it firmly, takes a deep breath through his nose and smacks the brick as hard as he can against the head of his attacker. The man seems to lose his balance for a second or two but then he’s at it again, so Kurt closes his eyes and hits, and hits, doesn’t even see where he’s hitting or if he’s doing any considerable damage but the thing driving him is fear and not reason and he doesn’t stop hitting until the weight on his legs lessen and he hears a dull thump. Suddenly his mouth is free and he gasps for air, panting from the adrenaline coursing through his body, eyes still closed. He just lays there for a minute, letting his breathing calm down and listening for sounds of someone moving or approaching. He can’t pick up anything except the occasional passing of a distant car, so he slowly opens his eyes.

His attacker has fallen sideways, his face smack down against the ground and the left half of his head covered in… oh, that’s a lot of blood. A lot of blood. Kurt quickly looks away and takes a couple of deep, calming breaths; it would spoil the scene of the crime if he barfed in it. He lifts himself up on his elbows and then suddenly his brain catches up with the situation; he just killed someone. Granted it was in self-defense but oh god, holy shit he killed someone, Kurt Hummel just committed murder. Fear and panic shoots through him again, gripping his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He sits up properly, ignoring the ache in his limbs and tries to calm himself down, fumbles for his phone to call Chandler, Rachel, someone, anyone. Rachel is first on his latest used contacts list so he quickly presses the call button, silently begging her to answer quickly. While he waits his eyes drift to the man – the dead body – beside him, to his hands, the hands he used to assault Kurt and what is that ring he’s wearing…?

“Kurt?” Rachel’s voice says in his ear. “Did you get home okay?”

She sounds concerned but that’s not really strange, Kurt usually just sends a text to let them know he’s home safe. He almost doesn’t register Rachel’s voice though because he just recognized the ring on his attacker’s finger, the thick golden band with the silhouette of a warbler carved into it.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you there?”

“Rachel,” Kurt says weakly, trying and completely failing to keep the tremble out of his voice. “Rachel, I just killed a member of the Anderson family.”

----------

“Boss, we have some bad news.”

Blaine Anderson looks up from his work a few seconds before his father does. Mr. Anderson raises a grey eyebrow and takes a long drag on his cigar, his thick gold ring catching the light of the fluorescents in his underground office.

“What is it?” he says in a low, almost bored voice. Blaine’s eyes flicker between him and the two men standing in the doorway, both wearing black suits and rings with the sigil of the Anderson family. The man on the right clears his throat and takes a step forward.

“Your nephew Victor has been found dead.”