He doesn’t want to do this.

He’s been tracking this man for weeks, observing his every move. It’s part of his job, after all. And then he’d even gone as far as to befriend him, to get to know him intimately and make him laugh and sigh and smile. And now he has to do this, because his employer’s plans have changed and fuck, he needs some way of keeping himself alive.

Why does it have to be him?

Blaine smiles as he runs his fingers down the side of Kurt’s face. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, love-light sparkling in his eyes. They’re in Kurt’s apartment – or at least, the one he’s rented for this assignment. Because Kurt doesn’t have a home, not really – he just moves from place to place, wherever his services are required.

Kurt closes his eyes and leans into the touch, savoring it as his own fingers tighten around the gun at his belt. The cool metal is such a sharp contrast to the warmth of Blaine’s skin that Kurt suddenly feels oversensitive, too aware of the cold and the warm. He swallows and moves forward to kiss Blaine deeply, sliding the gun out of its holster.

He can’t miss.

Somehow, Blaine seems to know what he’s about to do before he does it. Because a frown appears on that adorable face, and he’s in the process of pulling away from Kurt’s lips when Kurt presses the trigger and the sound shatters the stillness of the evening.

Blaine lets out a strange choked sound, his hands flying to the wound in his chest as he slides off the sofa. “Kurt… what…” He looks back up at Kurt with disbelieving eyes, as if willing him to tell Blaine that this is all a joke, all pretend…

Kurt’s fighting against tears as he fires again, and again. The sound doesn’t matter – no one in the neighborhood will tell. And even if they do, Kurt will be long gone.

Blaine’s blood is staining the beautiful fawn couch, and he still has that look of utter bemusement painted on his face, because the Kurt he knew wouldn’t do this, the Kurt he knew loved him. Kurt feels his throat close over as the gun drops from his nerveless fingers and he lets out a moan, sliding off the couch to cradle Blaine’s head in his lap. There is no hurt or fear in Blaine’s eyes – there is only confusion and, with such a force that it makes Kurt’s heart ache, love.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispers, leaning down to kiss the lips that are quickly growing cold and clammy, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Blaine shudders, and then his eyes go dark. Kurt’s crying, tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto Blaine’s motionless face.

“I love you.”