Blaine knows the world around him is burning. He can see the flames dancing outside of his window, and he can smell it.

Nothing quite like the smell of burning flesh to keep you up at night, Blaine thinks with a chuckle that is obviously out of place. The laughter fades quickly, and tiredness settles into the man’s eyes as he looks at the clock on the wall.

Time goes by so slow when you’re waiting.

It goes slow in Hell, too.

Suddenly, Blaine hears his son’s voice again (except was it really his son’s voice when it had been so rough and cruel?), Time is slow there, Daddy. It’s kind of nice, if you forget the monsters.

Blaine remembers how the thing wearing his son’s face as a mask had held out one dirt encrusted hand. He remembers how it had twisted its mouth into a horrible pout.

There are so many monsters, Daddy. Won’t you scare them away?

“No, no, no,” Blaine groans, dropping his head into his hands. He covers his ears, but he can still hear.

I’m scared, Daddy.

He thinks, for a second, that he can feel a small, chubby hand pulling at one of his own.

Come with me.

The voice is loud now.

Everything is loud and Blaine can’t help it when he slams his hands onto the table with a yelled, “Leave me alone!”

There’s no reply, no voice hissing in his ear.

There’s only the sound of the fire outside, and Blaine wants to cry.

Maybe I’m in Hell already.

Even as he thinks it, he knows it isn’t true.

He knows what’s waiting for him in Hell.

I’ll see you in Hell, cocksucker! I’ll see you in Hell!

Blaine finds himself wondering what Kurt would do if their son (no, not their son, because Elliot was a little boy, not some creature with half its face sagging off) was waiting for them in Hell.

I don’t have to wonder, Blaine thinks, looking at the slowly ticking clock once more. It’s time.

With a small smile, Blaine reaches out and shuts his laptop. A sense of calm washes over him as he does so, and he knows that as soon as the door opens everything will be okay. But beneath the calm, there’s a frantic part of Blaine yelling for him to look and see the chaos around him and to-

Run!

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face up to the ceiling. The voice is loud inside his head, a constant yelling that he just wants to stop, but it won’t. He knows it won’t.

Run!

He brings his hands up to his ears again and snarls, “Shut up!”

Run! Run! Ru-!

Blaine’s eyes snap open at the same moment the voice cuts off, and he feels a breath stick in his chest as he listens.

In the front of the house, there is the sound of a door creaking open.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Blaine lets out the breath he had been holding and closes his eyes.

If he pretends, the roughness of the voice fades away, and it’s his Kurt again.

He feels tears roll down his cheeks at the sound of feet dragging on the floor, but he doesn’t move until there’s a hand on his shoulder, tightening until it’s painful. Blaine lifts his own hand to cover the other, ignoring the wetness of blood caught between them.

“You waited for me,” the thing says, leaning in close. Its breath is rotten, as if something has died inside.

Something has died, the voice is back, hissing in his ear but Blaine know that’s a lie.

This isn’t like Elliot.

Kurt is back.

“Blaine…” the thing (Kurt) hisses.

Blaine stands, and the hand drops from his shoulder when he turns.

The Kurt-thing smiles around the blood pooling in its mouth.

“You waited,” it repeats, and Blaine smiles.

“I’ll always wait for you,” Blaine says, before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Kurt’s dirt encrusted body, eyes shut tight.

If he concentrates, he can pretend…