Okay, let me reevaluate the situation. My client (who isn’t even close to the point of no return) can see me as though I was human. And now he is asking me who I am. That’s just peachy.

Kurt straightened his jacket and took a deep breath. Blaine was still staring at him as though he was holding up a gun and asking for money.

Oh! What if he thinks I’m going to rob him?

Kurt spoke on impulse. “I’m not here to rob you.”

Smooth, Kurt, real smooth.

Blaine eyed at him quizzically before slowly rising to his feet. “I didn’t ask you what you weren’t here for.” He whispered. “I asked you why you were here. Did my dad send you? Are you some sort of therapist? Did he send you to make me straight? And what happened to your arm a few seconds ago?”

Ah, so that’s it. Blaine’s gay and James is a homophobe.

Kurt shook his head and disregarded the question.

“Fine. At least tell me who you are!”

Kurt weighted his options. He could sit and explain that he was Death or he could take Blaine’s life now and cast the surreal event aside as though it had never happened. He quickly chose the latter.

Taking someone’s life away from them is a completely different experience than assisting them in the transition from living to dead. When someone else initiates the end, you feel nothing, but when you initiate it, you feel everything. Kurt had only killed twice before; much less than the previous Death. The first time was just a trial run of sorts. The second for the protection of someone he recalled loving at some point in time – though he couldn’t remember how that emotion felt. Power built up inside of you and ran through your veins until you could no longer contain it. Then, it’s gone and replaced with a feeling of despair and self pity.

The power began in his toes and slowly traveled up his body.

“Don’t just stand there!” screeched Blaine. Kurt paid no mind.

When the power reached his forearm, the name (that, oddly enough, was still there) began to glow blue once more. Blaine jumped backwards.

“Holy hell! How are you doing that?”

The power was climbing; slowly climbing. The name glowed even brighter.

“Is that…oh my God! Is that my name on your arm?”

The power was painfully close.

“It is! Why is my name on your arm? Are you some kind of serial killer? Is this some kind of sick game? Oh my God! WHY IS IT GLOWING?!”

The power consumed him.

“If you don’t answer me right now, then I swear-”

The power took complete control. Kurt lunged.

*

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

Karofsky’s words echoed in his mind as Rachel rambled on about solos.

“I’ll kill you.”

Karofsky was a schoolyard bully. Did he have the nerve to kill or was the threat hollow? Kurt didn’t wish to find out.

*

Blaine whimpered as Kurt hovered over him.

C’mon, Kurt. Just will it to happen. Just focus.

Blaine’s truly beautiful eyes filled with tears and –

Woe, what? Did I just describe his eyes as…beautiful? Focus!

“Please,” Blaine whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”

Perhaps it was the fact that the universe screwed up and marked Blaine’s death on the wrong night. Perhaps Kurt was feeling much too generous. Perhaps it was the fact that Blaine could see him. No matter the reason, something in Kurt snapped. The power faded and he slowly released his hold on the terrified boy. Blaine backed himself into the nearest corner, eyes still wide.

Great, back at square one.

Kurt took a step forward. Blaine screamed.

“I won’t hurt you.” Kurt sighed. And, for once, he actually meant it.

Blaine muttered quietly and began to rock back and forth.

I’ve set myself back quite a bit.

Kurt gathered his wits and glided to the edge of Blaine’s messy bed, sitting down.

So I’m stuck with my first option. I explain to this boy who I am and why I’m here. Now, how exactly do I go about doing that?

*

There was no way Kurt could concentrate on his homework. How could he? How could he ignore something as serious as a death threat? He needed comforting words. He needed Sebastian.

*

Blaine’s eyes never left the floor. He only continued to rock back and forth.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Although light and nearly inaudible, the footsteps on the stairs were clear. Blaine cowered and sank down as low as his hunched body would allow. He whimpered.

Death became alert.

If Blaine can see me…I wonder if others can see me…

The door separating the staircase and the oversized room slowly creaked open.

*

“C’mon, Seb. Pick up your phone.”

“Hi! This is Sebastian Smyth! Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you if you’re worth it.”

“Screw it. I’m going anyways.”

*

The door creaked open to reveal a battered looking Ellen Anderson. Her eyes swept over the room and immediately found her son.

Good. She can’t see me.

Ellen sighed. “Blaine, you shouldn’t irk your father like that. He’s a fair man. And please don’t lay on this filthy floor.”

Ouch.

The expression on Blaine’s face was one of utter hurt and confusion. His eyes wandered up to Kurt and back again. “M-mom...t-tell him to l-leave.”

“I can’t just tell your father to leave, this is his house. And besides, he only wants what’s best for us.”

“N-not dad…him.” Blaine pointed a finger in Kurt’s direction.

Ellen swept the room once more.

“There isn’t anyone here but us, Blaine.”

“Yes there is! He’s r-right there!”

Ellen crossed her petit arms. “Maybe your father’s right. Maybe you do have a disease.”

The pain in Blaine’s face disappeared only to be replaced by a storm cloud of anger. He jumped to his feet, lightly wobbling as he regained his balance.

“I don’t have a disease! I’m gay, mom. Just deal with it. Why can’t you accept me for who I am? You let dad slap you around and stand by when he makes me feel like shit-”

“Watch your mouth! Stop telling lies, Blaine!”

“No, mom. You stop telling lies. You lie to yourself everyday when dad ‘works late’. We all know he has some other woman in a hotel somewhere.”

Oh my God…

Mrs. Anderson’s eyes could cut through solid metal.

“You have until tomorrow to leave.”

Blaine’s face fell. “What?”

“You heard me. If you’re still here in the morning, I’m calling the police to come and remove you.”

“But, mom, I’m only-”

“18 today. You’re old enough to make a life on your own. You’re going to need one…because I no longer want you in mine. I’m sure your father will support my decision.”

It’s…his birthday?