Kurt ran down the dirt path, looking around wildly. “Toto! Toto!” 

The sky overhead stirred ominously. 

Kurt wiped tears from his eyes as he kept running down the road, towards the large house surrounded by cornfields. “Toto!”

There was a sad whining noise.

With a gasp, Kurt clapped his hands over his mouth as he saw Blaine tied up to a post, his tag wagging sadly through his dirty jeans and his fluffy black ears drooping over his curly hair. “Toto!” he cried, running over to him, falling to his knees as he worked furiously on the knots, not caring about his dress getting dirty. “Toto, are you alright?”

Blaine whimpered and looked up at him with his big hazel eyes. “Dorothy?”

“She didn’t hurt you, did she?” Kurt cupped Blaine’s cheeks in his hands, inspecting him for damage. “Oh, I hate Miss Gulch! She’s nothing but a wicked witch!” He tore through the rest of the ropes and Blaine threw his arms around his waist, nuzzling his face into Kurt’s stomach.

“I was scared, Dorothy,” he whimpered. “I was scared I wouldn’t see you again!” 

“It’s okay,” Kurt hushed, running his hands through his hair. “It’s okay, we’ll run away Toto! We’ll run away and we won’t look back, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine whispered, getting to his feet. 

Kurt took his hand, lacing their fingers together as they started running down the road. But then the wind started picking up and dust flew everywhere. Blaine whined then growled defensively, wrapping his arms around Kurt.

“Come on, Toto!” Kurt howled over the wind, shielding his eyes as his auburn hair whipped out of its braids. “We have to get to the cellar!” 

They clung to each other as they staggered back to Auntie Emma and Uncle Carl’s house, dodging fence posts and even an old bicycle that flew at them. Suddenly Blaine’s arms weren’t around Kurt anymore and he spun around. “Toto!”

“Dorothy!”

“Toto, where are you?” Kurt screamed into the howling dust and wind.

“Dorothy!”

“Toto!”

A large wooden door appeared out of nowhere and flung at Kurt, hitting him on the head and then everything was black.

He awoke sometime later. A sharp pain in his head was the first thing that registered. Kurt hissed lightly as he drowsily rolled his head against his chest. He tried to raise his hand up to rub at his eyes.

He couldn’t. 

Panic started to creep in as he woke up fully, blinking his eyes open. 

He was sitting in front of a large haphazard table, full of colorful stained tea pots and chipped half-full tea cups scattered across it. Plates piled full of moldy muffins and cake bites were interspersed among the dirty cutlery as well as a creamer full of spoiled milk and a sugar bowl with ants crawling in it. 

Kurt tried to move but his head was locked in place against the back of his chair with a metal strap around his forehead. And another one around his mouth so he couldn’t speak. And more around his wrists, arms, chest, waist, thighs, calves, and ankles. 

He was completely bound to his metal chair.

“Don’t you like your tea party, Alice?” a musical voice laughed from behind him. 

Kurt started trembling in his chair, trying to make a sound, but the metal strap completely muffled him. 

“Mad Hatter made it just for you. Don’t you think it’s pretty?”

“Alice, I’m sorry.” Kurt looked down the table and saw the Mad Hatter looking at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this story. I know you don’t belong here—”

“Silence!”

The voice behind him echoed through the space.

“Awfully stuck-up of you, Alice. Not telling Hatter how nice the party is after he went through so much trouble to make it.”

Kurt’s breath came out jerky and fast against the metal strap as his heart started pounding. 

“Why are you so quiet, Alice? You’re always watching but you never say a word. You’re so impolite!”

Kurt tried to say something again, but no sound was escaping the strap.

“Well, if you’re not going to say anything, you probably don’t need your mouth,” the voice giggled. “And you probably don’t need your head either, right?” 

Kurt started struggling against his bonds but he couldn’t move move more than a centimeter. 

“Off with her head!”

***

Harmony huffed as she slammed her apartment door shut. ”I’m Rachel Berry and I’m just so fucking perfect at everything because I’m Elphaba isn’t that just fucking spectacular?” she mimicked as she rolled her eyes and dropped off her shopping bags. Pumps off and then heavy earrings and then beret. She padded through her apartment, stretching her arms high. “Oh but she’ll scream with envy when she sees which shoes I’ve placed on hold for the party.”

“Will she now?”

Harmony stifled a scream as her living room lamp clicked on and she saw someone sitting in her armchair. Her heart rate slowed as she realized who it was. “What are you doing here?” she frowned. “And how did you get in?”

Her visitor stood, tucking a lock of their hair behind their ear. “I just came to tell you that you were wonderful tonight. Your Nessa Rose could win a Tony.”

Harmony snorted. “Yeah, sure. Over who's dead body, right?”

Her visitor giggled and it was…extremely unnerving. “Well…I wouldn’t count that one out.”

A cold chill settled in the back of Harmony’s spine as she cleared her throat, trying not to let her voice waver. “So will that be all? I’m tired and we have another show tomorrow.”

“Of course, of course. I just wanted to tell you that Nessa’s scene with Elphaba and Boq was my favorite. When Boq turned into the Tinman?” 

“Oh!” Harmony nodded uncertainly. “That was my favorite too. I love singing ‘Wicked Witch of the East’ even though it’s not on the formal soundtrack.” 

“Though…" The visitor cocked their head slightly to the side. "I didn’t think it was fair for Nessa to place the blame on Elphaba for turning Boq into Tinman. She’d been the one to shrink his heart in the first place.”

“Well yeah,” Harmony shrugged. “But that was the point of the story. Elphaba had to be blamed for the sake of the plot.”

“Still…” her visitor walked forward, a smile slipping onto their face as their tone deepened. “It was all Nessa’s fault. She should have been punished.”

“Well…she did have a house dropped on her,” Harmony laughed nervously.

“No," the visitor laughed. "I mean by Tinman.”

“What are you—oh my god what—no stop STOP PLEASE AHHHHHH!”

***

“AHHHHHH!”

“Oh god please no,” Blaine groaned into his hands.

“BLAINE!”

“Goddammit,” he moaned, draining half of his mug of tea. 

The kitchen door slammed open as Rachel stormed in, her hair back in a severe bun, her face covered in green face mask, and clad in a black silk dressing robe and…black heels. 

“Were the heels really necessary for skincare?” Blaine muttered, quirking an eyebrow. 

“What were you doing yesterday?” she yelled, her hands on her hips.

Blaine tipped the rest of his tea down his throat. “Writing. And then I saw your premiere, remember?”

“That’s all you did yesterday? Writing?”

“Well yeah,” Blaine shrugged. “You know, it’s kind of my livelihood.” 

“So even though I explicitly told you put those Oscar De La Renta heels from the Collection on hold for me so I could wear them to the party on Saturday, you couldn’t remember that one little thing and you spent the entire day writing?” 

“Oh,” Blaine frowned. “Oops.”

“All you have to say is oops?” Rachel marched straight up to him, her black heals clicking wickedly on the white tile. “Blaine, I asked you for one thing!”

“Just put them on hold now,” Blaine sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Well I can’t because Harmony put them on hold!” she exploded.

“And here we go,” Blaine muttered.

“She’s always been jealous because I got the lead of Elphaba over her and she just got the role of stupid Nessa Rose—”

“Well I liked her version of ‘Wicked Witch of the East’. I thought it was very rousing.” 

“—and she knew that I wanted those shoes because I was telling her about how I was going to wear them for the party on Saturday when she was only wearing the L.A.M.B. ones—”

“Maybe you should have made sure that they were on hold before gloating, honey,” Blaine said dryly as he unfolded the New York Times. 

“—and now she’s snatched them up!” 

“Wait,” Blaine frowned. “Harmony you said?”

“Yes! Weren’t you listening at all?”

Blaine sighed. “Well you should have no trouble in getting your heels, Rach.” 

“And why’s that?”

He flipped the newspaper towards her, showing her the front page. “Because she’s dead.”

***

“Hey Kurt! It’s me. Sorry, I know you called me last night but I was in the middle of something. Oh, speaking of, there was a murder last night. It’s…really messed up. Not like the Scarecrow, but it’s definitely strange. It was a girl in Wicked—remember when we saw it together?—who played Nessa Rose and she had her head chopped off. The police are saying by a machete or an axe. Anyways, it looked pretty gruesome. Harmony…her…her heart was ripped out of her body. No one can seem to find it either. So…yeah.

“Oh! But to answer your question, yes. I’d love it if you did. But I have to go now, I’m meeting someone for breakfast. Talk to you later.”

***

“Well well well, if it isn’t Lord Byron.”

Blaine rolled his eyes, nodding to Jesse before he sat down. 

“Cappuccino and a non-fat pumpkin scone,” Jesse said to the waitress.

“Uh…Earl Grey tea and a lemon poppyseed muffin,” Blaine smiled. 

The waitress nodded, walking off, and Blaine turned back to Jesse who had an eyebrow raised at him. 

“What?” Blaine asked.

“Earl Grey tea? Lemon poppyseed?” Jesse arched his eyebrow disdainfully. “Jesus, you spend three months in the suicide capitol of the country and you become some emo hipster British man.” 

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Sam told me to lay off of coffee, that’s all. But are you like…okay?”

“What do you mean?” Jesse murmured, unfolding his napkin.

“Well…” Blaine frowned. “One of your costars did just die last night.”

Jesse snorted. “Is Rachel torn up about it?”

“Of course,” Blaine nodded evenly.

Jesse stared at him disdainfully. “She went on a rant about Harmony stealing her spotlight with her death, didn’t she?”

Blaine sighed, rubbing his hand over his stubbled jaw. He really did have to shave again soon. “Well…I keep trying to explain this thing called tact to her, but I’m not quite sure it’s sticking.”

“It’s Rachel,” Jesse smirked. “Honestly, you had to know what you were getting into when you married her. Though I guess—”

“Enough, Jesse,” Blaine groaned.

“I still don’t get how you can just be so…impassive about the whole thing.”

“And I don’t get how you can just completely dismiss the fact that one of your coworkers was brutally murdered in her own home,” Blaine shot back exasperatedly.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Harmony was a bitch. She lorded her power over everyone—save your tempestuous wife of course—and no one liked her. Honestly, they don’t like her even more now because we have to shuffle around her understudies since they’re all spooked. Only Sunshine is willing to sing tonight. Harmony was a wicked witch and pretty much everyone’s glad she’s dead.”

“Still pretty harsh,” Blaine murmured, smiling briefly at the waitress when she brought them their orders. 

Jesse shrugged, taking a savage bite of his scone. “That’s Broadway.”

***

“What’s wrong with him?”

Kurt curled up further in the corner, tracing the little jewels of the music box.

“Don’t look at him,” his brother murmured. “He’s been naughty so he has to sit in the corner.”

His brother’s friend snorted. “He? I thought it was a girl.”

“No, it’s Kurt. He’s kinda weird.”

“I’ll say. Hey! Hey you!”

“Jesse! We’re not supposed to talk to him!”

“Who cares? Hey you!”

Kurt raised his head and looked over at the other two boys sitting on the couch. 

The boy grinned at him, but it didn’t seem like a nice grin. “What are you? A girl or a boy?”

Kurt glanced back down, idly tracing his finger around the cover of the music box. “I’m a boy,” he whispered.

“What?” the other boy laughed. “Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

Kurt cleared his throat. “I’m a boy.”

“What?”

Kurt raised his voice “I’m a boy!”

“Kurt!”

Kurt shrank back into the wall as his mother came out, a livid expression on her stern face. “Kurt, what have I told you time and time again!”

Kurt ducked his head, fiddling with his fingers.

There was a stinging slap as he was struck across the face. “Kurt!”

“Chil-children are meant to been seen,” he said in a whisper, trying not to cry. “Not heard.”

“Then why were you raising your voice?”

Kurt shook violently. “Because…because he was asking me a question and he couldn’t hear me.” He pointed over to the boy, his brother’s friend. 

His mother turned to the other boy. “Is this true?” 

The boy shook his head back and forth. “No, we were just playing quietly and talking to ourselves. He wanted to butt in.”

His mother turned back to him and Kurt shrank down into the wall. She grabbed his arm and yanked him up. “Come on, Kurt. Your father will deal with you when he gets home.

***

Blaine licked his lips lightly, nipping at the flesh before bringing his foil up to tap his helmet, his arm extended, waiting…

His opponent attacked—he always had been one for the offensive. Blaine blocked his blows, his eyes darting back and forth wildly as his feet danced across the floor, his arm wielding his weapon with ease. His opponent tried to swipe widely, but Blaine used his off-balance body to disarm him.

“Dammit!” 

Blaine grinned, taking off his helmet. “Not bad, Smythe. You’re getting better. One day you might actually be able to land a blow.”

“Ha ha, Anderson,” Sebastian groaned, taking off his helmet as well, twisting his wrist around. “It’s not my fault you have a six year advantage.”

“Excuses excuses,” Blaine shrugged. “You could just admit that I’m better than you. Also lay off the horizontal blows. You have a tendency to do wide sweeps. If you try adding some vertical hits in there, you’d fare much better.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, offering a gloved hand. “Good match.”

“You too,” Blaine nodded, shaking it.

“So how’s the missus doing?”

Blaine sighed, taking off his gloves. “Rachel’s fine. I mean, there was the whole mess with Harmony dying last night.”

“Oh yeah,” Sebastian nodded. “Chandler told me. He said that she was killed in her apartment?”

“Yep,” Blaine nodded, taking a drink of water. “They won’t say how though. The police are keeping this one closed tight. No one can get any information at all.”

“Odd…” Sebastian frowned. “Kinda freaky, don’t you think?”

“Well…” Blaine grimaced lightly. “I’ve seen worse…” He shook his head to rid it of memories of burlap sacks and a young boy covered in blood and holding a shard of record. “But uh…how are your parents doing? I know that my parents are dying to have another garden party with them or something.”

Sebastian laughed, unpacking his lunch. “They’re fine, thanks. They’re glad that you and I are friends, at least. Someone who’s from a ‘respectable family with good traditional values’. They’re afraid that the big city will ‘ruin’ me or something equally fucked-up like that.” He offered Blaine half of his sandwich. 

Blaine smiled sympathetically, declining the offer of food. “They’re still in denial?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “I straight up told my dad that I like cock over Christmas. He asked me to pass the gravy. I’m pretty sure there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

Blaine laughed, taking another swig of water. “And you and Chandler are fine and everything?”

“Well, you know what it’s like being with a Broadway star,” Sebastian groaned. “Never a moment without drama.”

“True, true,” Blaine nodded. He looked at his watch and groaned. “Speaking of which, I have to pick up Rachel in half an hour and then I’m supposed to have dinner with Hudson.”

“Good luck,” Sebastian snorted derisively. “I mean, it is Hudson.”

“Yeah yeah,” Blaine sighed. “I’ll see you next week.”

“See you, Blaine.”

***

Kurt’s heart was pounding as he ran down to the basement, music box clutched tightly to his chest. He climbed over the washing machine and back into the storage area, worming his way through boxes until he found a large dresser and hid behind it. He curled into a tight little ball as the voices above screamed his name. 

He sat there… waiting…

***

“Finn! How are you?”

“Great!” Finn shook his hand firmly with a grin. They were at Il Mulino, one of Blaine’s favorite places to go when he wanted to feel pretentious.

Being with Finn just made him feel pretentious.

“How’s Rachel?”

“She’s fine,” Blaine nodded. “Just fine. How are you and the other managers doing? I mean, the loss of Harmony…”

“It’s a blow,” Finn nodded. “It’s a blow. Thank god for Sunshine stepping up to fill in. Otherwise we’d be screwed.” 

Blaine nodded again as they sat. Finn ordered some expensive brand of red wine that Blaine was sure he couldn't even pronounce. Blaine found a pasta he could pronounce. A cheese platter was brought out. Friendly banter. Praise of the food. Commenting on politics.

Blaine was bored out of his mind.

He kept rewriting their conversations in his head to make them more interesting. Their discussion about the mayor turned into a commentary on the practicality of wearing one of those Russian fur hats during sex in his head. Finn’s praise of the steak—why he’d ordered steak at an Italian restaurant was still a mystery to him, though it was something along the lines of his proud all-American quarterback heritage—quickly became a discussion of the Bronte sisters and which one embodied Gothic Romanticism the most through their novels. 

“So will you be in the city long?”

Blaine blinked away his longing for pumpkin pancakes to focus back in on Finn. “Uh, no. I’ll just be here the next few days for the gala. I’m flying back to Seattle on Sunday.” 

“Talk about dedicated to your work,” Finn frowned. “I don’t think anything could take me away from New York. Especially if I had a wife.”

“Yeah…” Blaine muttered, glancing down at his phone. He sent another text to Kurt, the fourth one today. 

Kurt hadn’t contacted him in over twenty-four hours now. 

He clicked on Kurt’s name, his picture popping up. It was from that entire day and night they’d spent in front of his fire. Kurt had his hands over his face, blushing with embarrassment and Blaine’s calligraphy all over his flushed chest. Blaine had managed to snap the photo before Kurt had pulled him back down to the carpet.

“Blaine?”

Blaine clicked off his phone, looking back up at Finn. “Yes?”

Finn smiled. “I was wondering if you wanted to maybe…accompany me to a club tonight?”

Blaine tried not to cringe. Finn had this thing where he’d try to get Blaine to go out to a strip club with him every time they went out to eat. It probably was just his way of trying to repay Blaine for that time Blaine had walked in on him and Rachel in their bed. “That’s fine, Finn. I actually have a lot of writing to do because I have to meet up with Sam tomorrow.”

“Sure, dude,” Finn nodded. “Your loss, man.”

Blaine inclined his head with a shrug. 

***

Kurt cried quietly into his pillow, his back on fire. There was a knock on his door.

“Kurt?”

Kurt hugged his pillow harder, rubbing his face into it.

The door quietly cracked open and there was his brother, arms crossed as he walked over to Kurt’s bed, sitting next to him. “Kurt, are you okay?”

Kurt sniffled into the cotton, shaking his head minutely. 

He put his hand over Kurt’s bare side but yanked it back when Kurt cried out, a whole new wave of tears taking over. “I’m sorry,” he murmured before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to the edge of Kurt’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Kurt gripped his pillow tighter. “Go away.” 

“But I—”

“Please go away.”

There was a sigh and he left. Kurt bit his pillow hard, trying to keep the tears at bay as his back continued to burn painfully.

***

“You’re what?”

Blaine took a bite of his panini and swallowed. “I’m going back to Seattle on Sunday. I still have a lot more writing to do.”

Sam stared at him. He was wearing a black suit with a dark blue shirt, neck bare. He must be going out on a date tonight. He contrasted nicely with the gray sky in the background, just outside of Blaine’s window.

“Seattle? The other side of the country?”

Blaine shrugged. “It’s been helping with writing. And I like the city.”

“You hate the west,” Sam protested. “You have ever since coming back from Hollywood three years ago, claiming that it was eating your soul.”

“Hollywood was eating my soul. But I was being unfair. The west coast is three states, not one, and I just steer clear of California. Seattle is nice. Calm.”

“Yeah, it’s only the suicide capitol of the country. And wasn’t there some serial killer out there who was just caught a couple of weeks ago?”

Yes. “Speculation. But the city has been helping.”

Sam sighed, sitting down at Blaine’s pristine marble counter. “Well, can I at least get a title of this epic masterpiece?”

Blaine averted his eyes, playing with his cup of tea.

“There’s not even a title yet?” Sam groaned. 

“I’m working on it!”

“You always have a title. It’s what you’re good at. You always come up with a title first.”

“I know, I know, but this time I came up with the story first,” Blaine sighed. “Can I at least pitch it to you?”

Sam waved his hand, settling back into his chair.

Blaine dove in, going into detail about the detective Alexander Bergamot and his financier, the rich Earl Elliott Grey, and the mass-murderer they were trying to expose through the streets of Victorian London. Lies, secrets, intrigue, young girls being murdered, even a dash of cross-dressing, and a whole lot of witty banter.

Sam drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully, considering. “I mean, it is a good idea.”

Blaine grinned.

“We’d have to market it like crazy though.”

“I know,” Blaine nodded. “I just need more writing time though. And some peace. It’s hard to get it in the city that never sleeps.”

Sam licked his large lips before nodding in assent. “Okay. You have until Thanksgiving for the first draft.”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“Christmas,” Sam countered. “And not a day later. We need to get this on the road.”

“Alright,” Blaine nodded. “Christmas, I can do that.”

“Okay,” Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you at the gala tomorrow night. And who knows. I might even come out to the Emerald City and visit you.”

“You’d like it,” Blaine smirked. “Lots of coffee.”

Sam rolled his eyes and headed out.

***

Before going to bed that night, Blaine attempted to call Kurt. No reply. 

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he tried to ignore the small part of his brain that was replaying that one night when Blaine had been convinced that Kurt was dead.

He shook his head, telling himself that everything was fine. He’d be back in Seattle within forty-eight hours and then he find everything out for himself.

***

Blaine woke up the next morning feeling uncomfortable. He could sort of vaguely remember his dream—something to do with roses and pinpricks and his heart racing and just red everywhere—but it was slipping away with each raindrop that tapped lightly on his window. 

He looked around his room. Gray. Gray. Light gray. Dark gray. Fifty Shades of Gray.

He blinked at the book on top of his bookshelf and grabbed it with a sigh. 

Rachel was reclining at the dining room table, reading the entertainment section of the New York Times and drinking a smoothie of something gunky and sickly green. 

“Rachel,” Blaine sighed. He held up the book. “What is this?”

Rachel looked over at him and blinked in surprise. “It’s a book, Blaine. You know, one of those things that you make a livelihood off of?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “No, I mean why the hell are you reading this? We have Austen and Faulkner on the shelf.”

Rachel shrugged. “It’s interesting. And fun. And sexy.”

“It’s about a misogynistic asshole who’s manipulative and cruel.” 

Rachel sighed. “Blaine, why do you even care?”

“I just think it’s funny that you’ll read this but you won’t read a single one of my books.”

“Murder mysteries are boring,” Rachel groaned, setting her paper down. “And I’ve asked you to write romance a thousand times but you refuse!”

“I don’t do romance!” Blaine snapped. He knew he shouldn’t—it was an old argument and it was better left out of sight out of mind.

“Really?” Rachel retorted sarcastically. “Wow, I never would have guessed that!”

“And here we go!” Blaine grinned savagely. “Go ahead, Rachel. Lay it on me. What will it be this time? Complaining that I only took you to the Alps for our honeymoon instead of ‘civilization’? Snapping at me because I didn’t know you liked red wine over white wine? Bitching me out for forgetting the anniversary of the first time we went to Sardi’s?”

“Oh, fuck you Blaine Anderson!” Rachel yelled.

“Funny!” Blaine laughed back. “Because it seems like I’m the only person on this island who you won’t!” 

A sharp smack cracked through the apartment. Blaine stared at the generic black rectangular magnets on their refrigerator as he felt his cheek smart and slowly turn red. He turned his head slowly back to Rachel who was standing in front of him, red and furious and with tears in her eyes, quivering with anger. 

It was almost laughable.

“Did that make you feel any better, sweetheart?” he asked her dryly, lips turning up in a half-smile.

She put her hand down and turned, stomping off back to her room.

***

But a quarter of eight, they were stepping into their town car, Blaine giving Beiste, their driver, directions. They didn’t speak on the ride downtown, Blaine looking out his window and Rachel fiddling with her phone. She’d found some black Valentinos to make up for the ruby Oscar De La Rentas that she’d been unable to claim after Harmony’s passing—they’d vanished from her apartment. She was still unhappy, but satisfied that no one else would wear them. Her hair was down in waves around her ruffly black dress that fell to her knees and she wore a spectacular pair of emerald earrings that had been a gift from Blaine’s mother upon their engagement. 

Blaine had gone simple—all black. He wasn’t in the mood for much else. 

The gala was in full swing, set to honor the new cast of Wicked. He stepped out of the car and pulled Rachel out onto the thick yellow carpet—some homage to the Yellow Brick Road no doubt. Camera lights flash and he had to refrain from rolling his eyes as they posed every few feet, looking every bit the happy couple everyone thought they were. 

“Blaine!” 

Blaine sighed in relief as he spotted Jesse, leaving Rachel next to Sunshine, the new Nessa Rose. “Hey. No date?” 

“No one good enough,” Jesse sighed.

Blaine grinned. “It’s nice to see you so modest." 

“You know me,” Jesse said dryly. “I actually have standards. Unlike your wife.” 

“Don’t you have something else to prattle on about?” Blaine groaned.

Jesse smirked. “I’m just saying that she and Brody have been…well…”

Blaine frowned, thinking back. “Wait, the dance instructor?”

“The one and only,” Jesse nodded, looking pointedly over Blaine’s shoulder. 

Blaine turned and saw Rachel laughing as she kissed Brody on the cheek. “Huh. Weird.”

“Seriously,” Jesse stared. “That’s all you have to say?”

Blaine shrugged. “It’s her life.” 

Jesse snorted. “That’s kind of cold of you, Anderson.”

“Ooh, why is Blaine being cold?”

“And with the appearance of the munchkin, I take my leave,” Jesse groaned, walking over to Rachel for a Fiyero/Elphaba picture.

Chandler rolled his eyes. “He’s such an ass, I don’t know why you’re friends with him.”

“Your boyfriend’s an ass and I’m friends with him,” Blaine shrugged. “As is Finn. And you know, most of the people in this circle.”

“True,” Chandler sighed. “Though Jesse can just be plain nasty. But it does help a lot with our stage chemistry.”

Blaine gave him a half smile. “Sure thing, Boq.”

“So I hear you’re leaving us tomorrow for the rainy city,” Chandler crossed his arms. “You’ve only been here two weeks!”

“I know, I know,” Blaine sighed. “I haven’t even seen everyone that I’ve meant to, not even my brother.”

Chandler frowned, staring over his shoulder. “Wait…isn’t that your brother right there?”

Blaine turned to see Cooper stepping out of a car with his date, flashing his big shiny teeth to the cameras. 

“Oh great,” Blaine groaned quietly. He should have known that there was a possibility of Cooper showing up—he never could resist any carpet of any sort and he got a freebee being the brother-in-law of Rachel Berry. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes and then suddenly Rachel was in front of him. 

“Why is she wearing those shoes!” she demanded, pointing in Cooper’s direction.

Blaine frowned, looking over. 

Cooper’s date was indeed wearing the dark red Oscar De La Renta shoes. They went very fetchingly with her swirly blue and white taffeta dress that ruffled and flared around her body as well as the dark red and yellow roses woven into her styled reddish brown hair. She sent a closed-mouth smile to the cameras, her red lips curling mysteriously as she rested her gloved hand on the arm of Cooper’s sharp black tux. 

Blaine’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d know that fake auburn hair anywhere.

“Oh Dorothy,” he whispered. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” 

***

Kurt waited until the house was very quiet before shuffling off his bed, climbing underneath it. He sniffled his nose and tucked his legs under his body. Opening up his music box, he smiled when Somewhere Over The Rainbow started to tinkle out quietly. He traced his fingers idly around the pretty box because it was a promise. A promise that he’d find home someday. He smiled sweetly into the darkness, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep as the melody played on.

***

“Blainey!”

Blaine blinked and suddenly Cooper was in front of him, Kurt on his arm. He weakly returned the hug that Cooper gave him and went back to staring at Kurt. “Hey Coop. What…what are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you, baby brother!” Cooper smiled. “And the ravishing Rachel.”

“Hello Cooper,” she said sweetly, presenting her face for kisses. She turned to Kurt, face friendly but inflection icy. “And who’s this…pretty thing?”

Blaine swiped a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, taking a long drink.

Cooper grinned. “Isn’t she great? This is lovely Alexandra Bergamot.” 

Blaine choked on his champagne which he somehow managed to turn into a cough. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kurt said, his voice higher and breathier than usual. He turned to look straight at Blaine. “Mr. and Mrs. Berry.”

Shit.

“Alexandra, I love your shoes!” Rachel said with a smile that could kill. “Where did you get them?”

“Oh I just had them lying around,” Kurt laughed, tucking an auburn curl behind his ear.

He looked stunning, even as a girl. His dress bunched and flared around him to draw the eyes to the shiny blue fabric and away from the fact that its wearer had relatively no chest to speak of. The back of his dress dipped down low, revealing his unicorn tattoo and what looked like another one, on his left side that hadn’t been there when Blaine had last seen him.

Kurt turned his lips up in a smile as he looked up at Cooper. “Could we maybe go inside? It’s getting a bit chilly out here for me.”

“Of course!” Cooper said, ushering them in. They pressed into the throng that was immediately inside the doors and Blaine quickly lost sight of his brother and Kurt. He craned his neck, but Rachel was pulling him in the opposite direction, to meet with friends. 

The event room was filled with an eerie dark green light and the band was already halfway through their set. Blaine smiled and nodded at all the patrons and other Broadway stars that he only vaguely knew through Rachel, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for a blue and white dress. 

A singer stepped onstage and started crooning as couples took to the dance floor. 

He left no time to regret

Kept his dick wet

With his same old safe bet…

He spotted Cooper over by the bar and steered himself and Rachel over there, muttering to her, “Cooper said he wanted to dance with you earlier?”

“Really?” she raised her eyebrows. “Well it’s hardly a surprise. We slow dance excellently.” She cut over to Cooper smoothly, sending him a charming smile as she asked him to dance.

“Why of course, Rachel,” Cooper grinned flawlessly. He offered his arm and she took it. “Blaine, you wouldn’t mind looking after Alexandra, would you?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Blaine said easily before turning to Kurt. “Shall we?” He offered his arm.

Kurt stared at him before taking it silently.

Me and my head high

And my tears dry

Get on without my guy

Blaine led him a safe distance from Cooper and Rachel before holding out his arms and Kurt sighed, placing his arms in them as they slowly started to dance. ”Hello Kurt,” Blaine said quietly.

“Hello, Blaine,” Kurt replied.

You went back to what you knew

So far removed

From all that we went through…

“Kurt, what are you doing here?”

Kurt arched an eyebrow. “I’m attending my wife’s premiere. What does it look like?”

Blaine closed his eyes. “Look, I—”

“You lied to me.”

Blaine looked at him hard. “I never told you I wasn’t married.” He felt Kurt tense in his arms but he just held him closer.

“You lied to me because you let me believe that you weren’t,” Kurt whispered.

And I tread a troubled track

My odds are stacked

I’ll go back to black

Blaine glanced to the side.

Kurt let out a soft breath. “And you don’t even care.”

“Kurt—”

“Save it, Blaine. I get it. I understand or whatever. I just wanted to see it for myself.” Kurt’s blue eyes flicked up and down him. “And it’s a whole lot more disappointing in person, I must say.” He slipped his arm from Blaine’s grasp and backed away, dissolving into the other dancers. 

We only said goodbye with words

I died a hundred times

You go back to her and I go back to…

I go back to… 

***

Crack.

Kurt jumped, biting down on his pillow as the skin of his back broke. His hands laid uselessly beside him. He knew what happened if he tried to use his hands.

“What’s the rule, Kurt?”

Kurt’s teeth clenched down on the soft white pillow fabric one more time, the saliva-slicked cotton somehow tasting simultaneously comforting and uncomfortable at the same time, before letting it go, a string of spit connecting the soaked fabric to his lip. “Children should be seen and not heard,” he rasped.

Crack.

The scream choked in his throat as his torso jerked violently on the table.

“Kurt?”

“Children are—”

Crack.

“Kurt.”

Silence.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“Stop please!”

“Kurt! What did I just say!”

“That children are—”

Crack.

“Stop!”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Crack.

***

Kurt ordered a gin from the bar, cringing slightly at the green glass it was served in before downing it in one go, shivering slightly. His eyes flitted around the room full of glamorous celebrities laughing obnoxiously at each other while they waited for their turn to speak. He stared moodily at the sickening happiness, the alcohol streaking coals through his stomach as someone slid next to him.

“You might want to be careful. Drinking like that can ruin your liver.” 

Kurt smiled wryly. “Oh you’re hardly one to lecture me.”

His visitor ordered a vodka on the rocks and they observed the masses together.

“Thanks for getting me out here,” Kurt said quietly.

“Well, I owed you one. Half of this is my fault.”

A smile quirked Kurt’s mouth. “True…”

A snort next to him. “Well I can’t take full credit.”

Kurt’s smile  dropped. “No. You really can’t.”

There was a silence.

“So…you and Anderson.”

Kurt sighed, staring down into his glass and wishing he hadn’t drained it so quickly.

“And here I was thinking that you just came out here to see me.”

“That’s likely,” Kurt muttered. Then his shoulders slumped. “Yes. Me and Blaine.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“We met at a tea shop. I started helping him out with his novel.”

“How quaint.”

“There was a psychopathic murderer as well.”

“Ah, that sounds a bit more like you.”

Kurt smiled, fiddling with his gloves. “Thanks for the dress too. But where did you get these shoes?”

His visitor sighed. “They…showed up at my apartment. I don’t know who sent them but they’re from Harmony.”

Kurt stared at him. “The girl who died? You mentioned her in your phone call…”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“How…” Kurt swallowed nervously. “Her head was chopped off, right?”

“That’s not all. Rumor has it that they aren’t releasing what really happened to the public.”

“Could you get me the report?”

He shook his head. “I can’t. But I know someone who can. Sam Evans. He has a friend in the office. You’ll need to get close to him.”

Kurt sighed. “What does he like? Boys or girls?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” his visitor laughed. “He’s not like that. He’s an editor. You should probably get close to his best client.”

“Let me guess,” Kurt groaned. “Toto over there.”

“An apt nickname. And eerily accurate to boot…” 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to be sending me back to home, not on a quest with Toto.” 

“Well first you have to get him out of the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West.” He nodded towards Blaine who was standing arm in arm with Rachel.

Kurt rubbed his temples. “This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Oh Kurt, it’s not that hard. You’re used to screwing married men.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay.”

“Gross,” Kurt muttered. “And never.”

“I know, I’m not married.”

Kurt convinced himself that murdering his current source of income wouldn’t be in his best interest. “Why do you even care about the murderer?”

A pause. “I…I just want to make sure that this is an isolated incident. Because if it isn’t…I have a good idea who a future target might be.”

Kurt glanced sideways at his companion before sighing. “Fine. One more week.”

“A month.”

“Two weeks. But if I can’t turn up anything, then you’ll send me back to Seattle?”

“You have my word.”

Kurt gave an unamused laugh. “And what’s that worth?”

He didn’t wait for a reply before heading into the crowd.

***

“Kurt.”

Kurt took a deep breath and turned to Blaine. He tried not to think about how good he looked in his all-black suit or how much his chest was hurting each second he was in his presence. Instead he just crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. “Blaine.”

“Listen Kurt—”

“I’m in town for a few weeks,” Kurt said quickly. “Staying with a friend. If you want to meet and work on the novel some more, I suppose I’m fine with that.”

Blaine blinked at him in shock. “Really? Because I—”

“Plotting the novel,” Kurt said evenly. “That’s it. Those are my terms. We meet when I want to meet. We talk about the novel. That’s it. Nothing else.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal?”

Blaine licked his lips. “Kurt—”

“Do we have a deal?”

Blaine sighed, but shook his hand. “Deal.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”

“There’s a nice little cafe in the Village,” Blaine shrugged. “I’ll text you directions if…you’re taking my calls now?”

“Fine,” Kurt nodded stiffly. “Breakfast and then we can talk. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

***

Blaine arrived at the small steamy cafe an hour early. He strategically arranged himself at the tiny window nook table and ordered an Earl Grey tea, sipping it while he read a book.

He then realized that he still had a good fifty minutes until Kurt arrived and that this plan was probably dumb. 

So he took out his laptop and attempted to type up his messy notes. He got through three pages before he remembered that Kurt was one of the few people who could actually read his scrawly handwriting. 

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and put his headphones in, listening to Adele.

I heard that you settled down

That you found a girl and you’re married now

I heard that your dreams came true

Guess she gave you things I didn’t give to you

Skip.

When will I see you again?

You left with no goodbye—not a single word was said

Skip

She—she ain’t real

She ain’t gonna be able to love you like I will

She is a stranger

You and I have history or don’t you remember

Skip

Okay on second thought, maybe Adele wasn’t the best idea. 

He grumbled, taking his headphones out.

“You know, if you frown to much you’ll get lines, old man.”

His eyes shot up and there was Kurt standing in front of him. His arms were crossed and he was wearing his warm zip-up-the-arms gray sweater with dark skinny jeans and battered maroon converse, his hair pulled into two tufty little pigtails on either side of his head. 

Blaine felt a smile quirk his lips.

“What?” Kurt muttered, hugging his arms around himself tighter.

“I was just reminded of the first time we met,” Blaine grinned. “At Miro? You hair was in pigtails then.”

“Oh yeah,” Kurt frowned, thinking back. “You were really loud.”

“You’d just ruined my laptop.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you buy a new one the next day?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“That is the point.”

Kurt dropped his shoulder bag over the arm of his chair before going up to the front counter to order. Blaine mentally congratulated himself on the easy contact before prepping his mind for when Kurt returned. He had a lot of questions. 

Kurt returned with a chocolate chunk cupcake, two rhubarb tarts, a slice of pumpkin loaf, and a grande non-fat mocha. 

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “No London Fog latte?”

Kurt half-shrugged. “When in Rome.”

Blaine stared. “But isn’t Seattle supposed to be like, coffee Meca? I mean, that’s where Starbucks was invented and—”

“Blaine. Shut up.” He leaned over and crammed a large chunk of the cupcake into his mouth.

Blaine rolled his eyes and chewed it, swallowing roughly. “How did you get to New—”

“No,” Kurt shook his head. “I’m only here to help with the novel.”

“Kurt, come on—”

“No.” 

Blaine folded his arms and leaned back.

Kurt glared. “One minute of asking questions and I reserve the right to decline.”

“Deal.”

“Go.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not as mad as I’d like to be.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’d be a hypocrite.”

“What?”

“Move on.”

“How did you get to New York?”

“Private airplane.”

“Who?”

“A friend," Kurt said shortly. "Move on.”

“Where are you staying?”

“A friend," Kurt repeated. "Move on.”

“Why do you care so much about helping with this novel?”

“It’s my only way of getting my own creativity out into the world since I’m kind of lacking in the area of identification.” 

“My brother? Really?”

Kurt arched an eyebrow. “It was convenient.”

A glare. “It was a low blow.”

A shrug. “Semantics.”

“How did you meet him anyways?”

“A mutual friend.”

“The same one who got you out here and who you’re staying with?”

A smile. “Yes.”

“What’s the other reason you’re out here?”

“To find out who murdered Harmony.”

There was a ringing silence between them.

“Ah,” Blaine said quietly. “I should have guessed as much.”

Kurt sighed, itching at the side of his head. “It’s…complicated. I just…something about that murder is bugging me and I don’t know why.”

“And you think you can just…solve it?”

“I did last time.”

“You almost died last time.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Stop being so melodramatic.”

“I’m being realistic.” 

“Blaine, I’m not going to go running after the killer this time. I just need to find out what’s going on. And…I need your help.”

Blaine leaned back, folding his arms. “Really?”

Kurt shrugged. “Your wife worked with the victim.”

“Yeah, and they hated each other as I’m pretty sure someone told you yesterday. Now why else do you need me?”

Kurt licked his lips. “Well, my sources tell me that your editor has connections in the police department and can get me the report.”

Blaine nodded evenly. “True. I can call Sam later. On one condition.”

Kurt tensed. “And what’s that?”

“Stay with me while you’re here.”

Kurt tensed. “No.”

“Do you want the police reports?”

“I’m not going to sleep with you for them.”

Blaine rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t ask for that. I just want to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re alright. I won’t touch you, don’t worry.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Kurt muttered. He sighed wearily. “So you just want me to move in with you and the missus? That’ll be fun I’m sure.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “I have an apartment here in the Village that I use for writing. But that’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Kurt stared at him for nearly a minute before nodding. “Fine. Give me the address and I’ll bring my stuff.”

“You can use my town car—”

“I’m fine with the subway.”

Blaine nodded. “Meet at the apartment in two hours?”

Kurt gave a quick nod before grabbing his coffee and baked goods and briskly leaving the shop.

***

“Lopez speaking.”

“Hey! Santana! It’s me.”

“Urgh, what do you want, Sam?”

“You know the murder of Harmony East?”

“Obviously." He could practically hear the eye roll. "The station’s sort of preoccupied with it right now.”

“Well…could you maybe send me a copy of the report?”

“First off, that’s illegal. Second, I’m an intern, not a cop.”

“Yeah, but you can get them, right?”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Well…you do owe me one for paying all of your law school bills," he wheedled. 

“Nice try, Lips. But you already owed me for taking care of your siblings when we were little.”

“Okay fine. But look, I really really need this, okay? It’s not for anything illegal, I swear.”

“…”

“Santana?”

“Fine, okay? But you’re taking me out to dinner tonight for this.”

“Awesome! See you at seven.”

“I expect Italian!" she managed to get in before the line was cut off.

***

Kurt sat in the corner of his room, his little music box open as he sang along with it. 

”Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the things that you dare to dream really do come true…”

He closed his eyes and imagined what he really wanted. A mother and father who were nice to him and a big older brother who would sing and play with him and teach him how to ride the bike and stuff.

He started tracing the music box, tapping the little ruby on top of it, muttering the words that had been told to him when he’d received the box. 

“There’s no place like home… there’s no place like home… there’s no place—”

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and he shut his music box, shoving it under his bed before getting to his feet and looking at the ground.

His door opened. “Kurt.”

Kurt nodded.

“I was told that you broke the vase downstairs. Is that true?”

It wasn’t, but Kurt nodded anyways. He’d learned by now.

His mother sighed. “I don’t know why you do such horrid things when we’re letting you stay here out of the goodness of our hearts.”

Kurt remained silent, staring at the floor.

She walked over and yanked him by the arm and they were going downstairs, past his brother who was in his room, past the kitchen and then den, and into the back room with the pillow on the table. 

He resignedly took of his shirt and climbed on top of it, facedown on the pillow and waited an hour before his father came home.

He was asked over and over again what children were meant to do, but he didn’t answer. It made it worse if he did.

Because children were meant to be seen and not heard.

CRACK.

***

Kurt jolted awake, his hand flying to his back and his heart pounding in his chest. Lightning flashed outside and rain hammered on the window. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands as he breathed deeply, counting down from ten. He reached down and flicked his little ruby piercing with his finger.

“There’s no place like home… there’s no place like home… there’s no place like home…”

He straightened up, cracking his back before getting out of bed. He padded out of his little green room and into Blaine’s kitchen, flicking on the lights. 

Blaine’s Greenwich Village apartment wasn’t particularly large, but it was cozy and warm and had a fire escape so Kurt felt at ease. He meandered around the half-brick kitchen, making a cup of cocoa and nabbing a bag of frozen potstickers from the freezer before putting the steamer on. 

“Midnight munchies?”

He turned and there was Blaine, in his usual pajama ensemble of soft cotton pants and nothing else, an fashion choice that Kurt was currently echoing. 

“You shouldn't creep up behind me in kitchens,” Kurt said dryly. “Last time that happened, you ended up in the hospital for a week and I was wanted for attempted murder.”

“Ah, the good old days,” Blaine smiled. 

Kurt smiled back before he realized that he was smiling at a memory of stabbing Blaine and that was probably wrong on some level so he went back to stirring his cocoa. 

“Care to share?”

Kurt wordlessly poured more milk into the pot and another spoonful of nutella and turned up the heat. Blaine went to grab another mug and took out a cast iron skillet, starting to fry the potstickers. They stood next to each other silently, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful and calm and oddly domestic.

Kurt hated it.

“So…” Blaine said, swirling the potstickers around with his tongs. “You got another tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s very pretty.”

“Uh huh.”

“Why’d you get it?”

A pause. 

“To remind myself that every rose has a thorn.”

“Cool. Now why’d you really get it?”

“…move on.”

Blaine sighed, glancing over at the unicorn and roses. He felt a strong impulse to reach over and trace the black lines but he ignored it.

“So Sam’s coming over tomorrow and he’s bringing the police report.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

The silence resumed, but it was no longer easy.

Blaine pulled up a stool at the kitchen counter to eat whereas Kurt just climbed on top, sitting cross-legged as he bit into the hot potstickers and sipped his cocoa.

“I was supposed to fly back to Seattle today,” Blaine mused.

Kurt nodded. “Would you have told me when you’d gotten back?”

Blaine shrugged. “No, probably not.”

Kurt nodded. A silence followed.

“Do you love her?” 

“No.”

“Okay.”

Blaine blinked. “Wait seriously? That’s it?”

Kurt shrugged. “Well I’m not exactly happy with you, but if I get mad at you then I’m sort of a hypocrite so…”

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “Wait, you’ve cheated on someone before?”

Kurt shifted uncomfortably, looking to the side. “In a manner of speaking.” 

“When did—”

“Look,” Kurt sighed. “I told you that I have a past. But…I just want to work on the story this week and then I’m going back to Seattle, okay?”

“I’ll be going back at the end of this week as well,” Blaine said quietly. 

Kurt glanced at his hands. “I won’t be at your house. McKinley’s opening again in two weeks and Mercedes’ parents have given me permission to stay there until it does.”

Blaine nodded slowly. “Will I still see you around though? At Miro at least?”

Kurt looked at him sadly. “I…I don’t think so, Blaine.”

“Oh,” Blaine said softly. “So…one more week?”

“One more week.”

***

“Hey,” Carl sighed, walking into the precinct. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Spending time at Virginia Mason, were you?” Bryan grinned.

Carl flushed. “I’m just making sure that she’s okay. I mean, she has gone through an ordeal with her boyfriend being a mass murderer—”

“And you have a little crush on her,” Bryan said in a sing-song voice.

Carl rolled his eyes. “Maybe. Anyway, did you get the Karofsky file?”

“No and that’s the weird thing,” Bryan sighed. “I can’t. It’s sealed.”

“But…why?” Carl frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. It was all over the news!”

“Well, I’m making inquiries, but the whole thing is hush hush,” Bryan shrugged.

Carl sighed, collapsing in his chair. “Okay, so here’s what we know—Chelsea and Paul Karofsky were murdered last Christmas Eve and their house was burned to the ground. Their son, David, was visiting for Christmas and he survived along with his younger sister, Katherine, or Katy. David stayed to clean up the mess with his sister and then…sent her off to boarding school, right?”

“Something like that,” Bryan nodded. “Anyways, the whole thing was weird because everyone heard about it but no one really talked about the case. And there were at least four eye-witnesses saying that they swore they saw a boy there as well, but no one was questioned about it.”

Carl felt his stomach sinking because he had a feeling who that boy might be.

If Blaine’s Kurt had something to do with the Karofsky murders… he could see why Katy Karofsky would ditch boarding school to try and find him. 

“Kurt,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Looks like you might have another murderer on your trail.”

***

Sam knocked on the door. “Blaine, open the fuck up, I’m freezing my nuts off out here.”

The door opened, Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance blaring through the doorway, blocked only by some teenage…well, he was pretty sure it was a boy. He had messy fluffy brown hair, purple tights, black shorts, and a gray and purple striped sweater on, regarding Sam with an arched eyebrow that looked like it had had a piercing in it at some point.

“Sam?”

“Uh…” Sam blinked. “Yeah, I’m Sam.”

“Cool.” The (boy?) left the door open and turned on his heel. 

Sam cautiously followed him into the apartment, closing the door with his foot. The boy was sitting on the kitchen counter, drawing something in a sketch pad. He looked back up at Sam and blew his bangs out of his face, holding out a hand. “Oh, I’m Kurt by the way.”

“Hi,” Sam nodded, shaking it. “Uh…where’s Blaine?”

“The shower.” He went back to drawing. 

Sam just stood there awkwardly for a few minutes.

“So…how do you know Blaine?”

Kurt paused. “It’s…sort of a long story.”

Sam snorted. “I’m Blaine’s editor. I get plenty of those. Try me.”

Kurt tapped his pencil against his chin thoughtfully. “Well first I broke his laptop. Then he stalked me for a while. Then we were writing buddies. Then he found me working in an alleyway. Then I lived with him. Then I stabbed him and he had to get surgery. Then we started sleeping together. Then he thought I was dead but I wasn’t so we had great carpet sex. Then I almost died again and that sucked but we caught a serial killer together. And…yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Sam stared.

Kurt shrugged. “Seattle’s a weird place.” 

Just then, Blaine appeared from his room, hair wet and clothes crisp. “Sam! Hey, thanks for coming over, man.”

“You’re welcome. I…” he glanced back at Kurt before sending a pointed look to Blaine.

Blaine frowned. “Kurt, you didn’t introduce yourself?”

“I did. And I was polite.”

“He was,” Sam nodded. “I just—Blaine, can I talk to you for a minute?” He grabbed Blaine’s arm and steered him back into Blaine’s bedroom.

“What’s up?” Blaine said as Sam closed the door firmly shut.

“Blaine, do you want to tell me why you have a teenage boy on your counter who’s apparently from Seattle?”

“Oh that’s Kurt,” Blaine shrugged. “He’s sort of my creative assistant. He’s drawing up all the characters and helping me from a fashion aspect for the story.”

“And he…stabbed you? Wait, is he the reason you were in the hospital a couple of weeks ago?”

“Well…yeah, but that was just a misunderstanding.”

“Blaine…you’re an international best-selling author who’s married and has a piece of jailbait in his kitchen. Please tell me you see what’s wrong with this picture.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “He’s only here for a week.”

“That’s not the…” Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Oh god, this is going to blow up in our faces.”

“Did you get the report?” Blaine cut across him.

Sam took the packet out of his briefcase and handed it to Blaine. “Remember, don’t show it to anyone.”

“Okay,” Blaine nodded. 

Sam hesitated. “And…don’t read it on a full stomach. It’s sort of…yeah.”

Blaine glanced down at the packet and back up, nodding. 

Sam clicked his suitcase shut and straightened his suit. “So I take it that you’ll be in town for at least one more week?”

Blaine nodded.

Sam groaned. “I am so getting a raise for this."

***

“Uh…Kurt?”

Kurt glanced up from his sketchbook and Blaine was staring at him wide-eyed, the police report in his hand. Kurt leaned over to turn the music down. “Yes?”

“You…haven’t eaten recently, right?”

Kurt frowned. “No.”

“Okay good. Come on, I need some fresh air.”

Kurt pulled boots and a scarf on before they left the building, walking out onto the slanted streets of the Village, feet crunching in the leaves. They walked for a couple of blocks, past a sculpture garden and an odd little shop covered in keys before Blaine spoke. 

“Harmony was killed…slowly.”

Kurt glanced over at him in surprise. 

“The killer knocked her out first then handcuffed her to her dining room table. Then they waited for her to wake up before cutting tiny little heart shapes all over her body, peeling off the skin. And then…it looks like they poured bleach over one limb at a time before chopping it off, finally chopping off her head at the end. Then, lastly, taking her…heart.” 

Kurt looked at him with wide eyes.

Blaine licked his lips. The…the heart still hasn’t been recovered.” 

“Oh my god,” Kurt said quietly.

They both stood in the middle of the sidewalk, orange leaves floating slowly down around them in the incredible stillness.

***

“Kurt.”

Kurt snuggled deeper into his bed, chasing the warmth.

“Hey Kurt.”

His covers were rolled back and there was his brother leaning over him. Kurt just blinked up at him.

His brother licked his lips. “Mom and dad are going out of town tomorrow.”

Another blink. He didn’t really talk anymore.

His brother leaned in closer. “So you could go away if you wanted. I know you want to.”

Kurt stared at him, his mind going around. 

Until, very slowly, he nodded.

His brother grinned. “Great! Tomorrow night, okay?”

“Okay,” Kurt whispered quietly.

The covers were pulled back over him and his door shut quietly. 

Kurt smiled into his pillows. Tomorrow he would go home. 

***

It was all over the front page the next morning.

Cassandra July, 34, was found in her apartment with her head chopped off.

Kurt was reading the article over Blaine’s shoulder when his phone buzzed with a text.

You’d better hurry, Kurt.

Kurt sighed and rolled up his sleeves. They had a long week ahead of them.

***

“Okay, let’s go over this while we wait for Sam to get the police report.”

Kurt sighed, flopping back onto the couch, his silky gray parachute pants puffing out as he tapped his fingers on the high-necked black vest he was wearing. “Proceed.”

Blaine was drawing arrows and pictures all over the whiteboard in various different color combinations. It looked like a Picasso and not in a good way.

“So we have the killer of our novel over here--” He pointed to the little sectioned off corner. “--and he’s still a killer of women but he’s no longer named the Scarecrow because of bad memories.”

“Correct.”

Then over here…” Blaine pointed to the ominous white circle in the middle of the scrawls. “…is our new current killer who we know next to nothing about. Except one thing.”

“They’re somehow connected with the Wicked cast,” Kurt nodded.

“Exactly. Now, here are the cast members who dealt the most with the two members. Well, everyone dealt with Cassandra because she was the female dance instructor as well as Galinda, but those she worked the closest with: Brody Weston, the male dance instructor. Harmony East, deceased. Sunshine Corazon, the current Nessa Rose. Rachel Berry, Elphaba. Jesse St. James, Fiyero. Chandler Kiehl, Boq. April Rhodes, Madame Morrible. Wes Montgomery, the Wizard. Artie Abrahams, director. Finn Hudson, manager—”

Kurt’s head snapped up. “What? Did you say Finn Hudson?”

“Yeah,” Blaine blinked. “Why?”

“I…” Kurt glanced back down. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Okay,” Blaine muttered, frowning. ”And Harmony worked closely with Brody, Cassandra, Rachel, and Chandler.”

“Alright,” Kurt nodded. “Now we need a motive.”

“Well they all hate each other,” Blaine shrugged. “It’s not totally inconceivable that one might off another to get a leg up. The method they did it was…odd though.”

“If by odd you mean psychotic.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Kurt tapped his chin. “Well…huh.”

“Yeah,” Blaine sighed. “And is there like…anything in history about a killer who chops off girls heads and does freaky stuff like this?”

At that, Kurt rolled his eyes, staring at Blaine. “Seriously? You’re an author and you’re asking me this one?”

Blaine frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Queen of Hearts,” Kurt shrugged. “You know, psychotic. Unstable. Off with her head. All that stuff.”

Blaine blinked. “Oh…right. Duh. So you think…this could maybe be a female killer?”

“Well who benefits from this? Who’s Cassandra’s understudy?”

Blaine frowned. “I think it’s Sunshine. Then Andrea Cohen will step up and play Nessa Rose.”

“So…our killer could be Sunshine,” Kurt shrugged.

Blaine bit his lip. “See, if you suggested anyone else in the cast, I’d say yes in a heartbeat, but Sunshine’s notorious for actually being a good person.”

“Sinner in saint’s clothing?” Kurt shrugged. 

“Maybe…but we probably shouldn’t go with our first instinct on this. Remember what happened last time?”

Kurt cringed. “Yeah, okay. But Blaine?”

Blaine raised his eyebrows.

Kurt fiddled with his fingers. “Are you sure it wasn’t Mrs. Anderson? Taking out the competition?”

Blaine smiled wryly. “No, it wasn’t Rachel.”

Kurt crossed his arms. “How can you be sure?”

“I just know,” Blaine shrugged. “It wasn’t her.”

***

Over the next couple days, they managed to narrow the list down. Wes had an alibi on both nights. April was seen at a bar the night of Harmony’s death. Most of the rest of the cast had family that accounted for them. 

Sam got them the police report and they discovered that the killing method had been the exact same as Harmony’s: knocked out, handcuffed to table, hearts cut and peeled off, bleach, limbs chopped off, head chopped off, heart taken, heart still missing.

Kurt couldn’t stop shaking the feeling that the Queen of Hearts was Rachel, but Blaine wouldn’t even discuss the matter with him. 

The atmosphere around them was…not tense, but different. Blaine was much more cut off than he had been in Seattle, even in those early days before Kurt had started to live with him. He seemed like almost a different person and it unsettled Kurt, and made him grateful that he was leaving at the end of the week.

There was some party that the Wicked cast was throwing in the honor of Harmony and Cassandra at the end of the week. A masquerade. Kurt had received at text on Wednesday with a simple We’re going together fyi and rolled his eyes. 

The next day, he cracked.

***

Kurt walked into the building, flashing a smile at the doorman and trying to look like he actually belonged here. The wig and make-up helped, especially if he needed to make a quick escape. Switching genders mid-chase was actually incredibly convenient. 

He glanced down at the slip of paper where he’d copied the information from Blaine’s ID and called the elevator, pressing the button for the twenty-second floor. 

The apartment was empty, thank god. He tore off his itchy wig and stowed it in his bag, fluffing up his hair. 

The Berry-Anderson residence.

He checked the rooms first. There were six. Two appeared to be guest rooms. One looked like a writing studio turned storage space. One had a bunch of stands and sheet music. There was a cozy bedroom that looked too used to be a guest bedroom, and then, at the end of the hall, the master bedroom. 

There was a dark bamboo floor and pale gray walls with large Broadway posters of different productions that no doubt Mrs. Rachel Berry had been in.

Kurt crept in quietly, rolling his eyes at the fluffy white canopy king-sized bed and started looking around. Through the vanity and closet, being careful to put everything back precisely where it had been.

Minutes passed and he grew frustrated. There was pretty much nothing in the room. He didn’t know why he was expecting to find a bloody axe or a lifetime supply of bleach, but now he was just really—

Heels clicked down the hall.

Kurt’s eyes widened as he stumbled to his feet, pushing the bottom drawer on the dresser back in and wheeling around just as the door opened.

Rachel walked in, dropping her purse off in a chair before her eyes met Kurt and she froze. “What are you doing?”

“I…” Kurt glanced around. He caught his reflection in the vanity mirror: flats, gray tights, black skirt, black cardigan, gray blouse, a weird black bow tie of Blaine’s that he’d swiped for a necklace, makeup, and fluffy hair.

Girl then.

“I…my name is Ellie Grey,” he said, pitching his voice slightly higher. “I’m a cousin of Blaine’s? I was at the wedding? Well, I had to leave early…”

“Oh,” a relieved smile lit up Rachel’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said hurriedly. “I was just looking for Blaine and—”

“It’s fine,” Rachel waved her hand. “You’re family. I was just worried that you were a spy trying to find out my darkest secrets or something.”

“Don’t be silly,” Kurt laughed, a sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

Rachel smiled, walking further into the room and shutting the door behind her. Kurt gulped. “So Ellie. Where are you from again?”

“Seattle,” Kurt said, twisting his fingers. “Blaine came to visit a few times. But I’m out here for a uh…a show choir competition and I heard that Blaine was still in town so I wanted to visit—”

“Show choir?” Rachel grinned. “Oh I loved show choir in high school! Glee club was my favorite time of day! When are you competing?”

“Um, Saturday night.” When the masquerade was.

Rachel pouted. “Well Blaine and I have a prior engagement that night, but we could maybe skip out early to come watch you perform.”

“No,” Kurt said hurriedly, confused. This didn’t really seem like a cold-blooded killer. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to visit.”

“First time in the big apple?” Rachel sat down in her vanity, combing her fingers through her hair.

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “Though I haven’t really seen much of it.”

“Oh it takes about ten visits to New York to actually cover even half of it,” Rachel laughed. “But only one visit to fall in love.”

Kurt smiled slightly, nodding. But then he bit his lip slightly. “Um…has Blaine been…sort of…weird lately?”

Rachel raised an eyebrow at him.

“Its just um, when he visited me in Seattle, he just seemed kind of…uh, cold?” Kurt finished lamely.

Rachel snorted. “That’s just Blaine. You should know that.”

“I mean,” Kurt shifted awkwardly. “I don’t know him that well because I haven’t really ever left the west coast and he just seemed so nice and open and warm at the wedding…”

Rachel smiled grimly. “Well, you’re family so…Blaine’s just not really a nice guy. He’s interested in one thing: writing. Anything else? Not really. Not even me.”

“Oh,” Kurt said quietly. “Have you…never mind.”

“What?”

Kurt bit his lip. “Have you ever thought that maybe he’s…gay?”

Rachel laughed. “Oh, that’s the first thing I thought. So I sat him down to have to talk about a ‘convenient marriage’ but it wasn’t even that. He just…doesn’t like anyone. He doesn’t care about anyone.”

“Is that so?” Kurt asked quietly.

“Mmhmm,” Rachel smacked her lips together as she reapplied her lipstick. “And he’s always just so cold. Honestly, it’s like he doesn’t even have a heart.” 

Kurt stood there as something went off in the back of his mind. “So why did you marry him?”

Rachel smiled sadly at her mirror. “Well, he was the only guy I knew who treated me like everyone else and I liked that. But in hindsight…maybe I should have married one of the guys who thought I was everything.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “I thought we’d balance each other out eventually but…” she sighed. “It doesn’t look like it. I thought I’d marry so many of my boyfriends. Even my first one.” She opened her vanity drawer and took out a picture. “See? This was us in high school. We were Janet and Brad in Rocky Horror.”

Kurt stared at the picture, unblinking.

Rachel sighed. “He was just the first of many. But I ended up marrying the one I never thought I would.”

“I have to go.”

Rachel looked up at him in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded distractedly. “I just remembered that there’s um…show choir practice that I have to attend. To go over the setlist.”

Rachel nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Kurt nodded, backing out of the room. He hurried out of the apartment building and back to the Village, realizing how incredibly wrong he’d been.

***

Blaine walked into the apartment late that night, running his fingers through his hair. It was dark. Frowning, he turned on the lights and there was Kurt in the kitchen, legs dangling off the edge of the counter and the knife block next to him. 

“Kurt?”

“I went to your apartment today. The one on the upper west side.”

Blaine gaped. “Kurt, why would—”

“I was in disguise. I thought Rachel might still be the killer so I went to investigate. See if I was right. But I couldn’t find anything and then Rachel showed up.”

Blaine stared at him. “Did she—”

“She thought I was a girl. I told her that I was Ellie Grey, your cousin coming to visit because my show choir was in town. We chatted. I don’t think she’s the killer.”

Blaine sighed. “I told you—”

“I think you are.”

Blaine took a step back as Kurt rested his fingers on top of the knife block. “Kurt…”

“You know,” Kurt said quietly, his voice eerily calm. “As soon as we brought up the Queen of Hearts, I automatically assumed that the killer was female.”

“Kurt…”

“And it always ends up being the person that I least expect…”

Blaine licked his lips. “You think I’m the Queen of Hearts?”

“No,” Kurt shook his head. “No, I think your wife is probably for all intents and purposes the closest thing to the Queen of Hearts that this city has ever seen.”

“But you just said—”

“I don’t think that the killer is the Queen of Hearts.”

Blaine blinked. “What?”

Kurt stared impassively at him until tears started to bead in his eyes. “Someone who uses an axe to chop. Someone who’s just so cold and uncaring that it’s like they don’t even have a heart. Someone who’s obsessed with finding one…”

Blaine’s expression cleared.

“I don’t think you’re the Queen of Hearts,” Kurt whispered. “I think you’re the Tinman.” 

***

“Someday I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me,” Kurt sang quietly as he looked out his window. “Where trouble melts like lemon drops and way above the chimney tops that’s where you’ll find me…”

Tonight was the night. He was ready. He was prepared. He was excited almost.

His door opened and he stopped singing. His brother was there in the doorway.

Kurt smiled, picking up his music box and hopping down from the windowsill. “Is it time to leave? Can we go now?”

His brother picked up his music box. “You really like this thing, don’t you?”

Kurt nodded. “My most favorite person ever gave it to me!”

His brother smiled at him before throwing the music box down on the ground as hard as he could. 

Kurt jumped back in surprise as glass and metal shards flew everywhere, on cutting the back of his hand.

“Ow! What—”

He broke off as he looked at his brother, who was smiling at him. Kurt started to back away slowly but his brother’s arm shot out and he grabbed his wrist.

“Let’s have a bit of fun while mom and dad are gone, Kurt.”

***

Blaine stared at him. “Kurt, I didn’t kill them.”

“And why should I believe you?” Kurt said, his hand gripping one of the fish knives.

Blaine’s eyes darted back and forth before he swallowed nervously. “Because I believed you when you told me that you weren’t the killer in Seattle.”

“You called the police on me!” Kurt snapped.

“Well…you stabbed me!” Blaine fired back.

“After you wouldn’t let me go!” 

“And I did listen to you!”

“After you were recovering from surgery and too weak to fight me off when I forced you to listen!”

“Then listen to me now! I didn’t kill them!”

“I don’t believe you!” Kurt screamed.

Blaine raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “And why not?” 

“Because everything you’ve told me was a lie! I thought I could trust you but I can’t!”

“Yes you can, Kurt!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were married? Why did you let me think that you cared about me?”

“Because I do care about you, Kurt!” Blaine yelled, crossing the room to stand in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. “And that scares the hell out of me, okay? My entire life, I haven’t cared about anyone, no matter how hard I’ve tried to. I cried when my bird died but I couldn’t shed a single tear at my grandfather’s funeral. I just don’t care about people and then you showed up and suddenly you were everything to me and I was just so fucking scared that I’d lose you so I’m sorry, okay? Yes, it was cowardly but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied and I know I fucked up. I’m sorry Kurt.”

He felt a pressure on the left side of his chest.

He smiled grimly. “Are you going to stab me again, Kurt?”

Kurt stared at him, wide-eyed and crying, his hands shaking. 

“Go ahead,” Blaine whispered. “My heart hurts so much it’d be better off if I didn’t have it at all.”

“Oh shut up you stupid, heartless coward,” Kurt whispered, dropping the knife and grabbing Blaine by the collar, kissing him hard. 

After his week of uncertainty and not knowing and worrying, Blaine’s lips felt like home. Kurt twined his arms tightly around Blaine’s shoulders and wrapped his legs around his waist, locking them as he tried to get even closer, his lips mashing against Blaine’s.

“Oh god, Kurt,” Blaine gasped, raking his fingers down Kurt’s sides. “Kurt… Kurt… Kurt, why are you dressed like a Gothic schoolgirl?”

“Blaine?”

“What?”

“Shut up,” Kurt moaned, grabbing Blaine’s face and slotting their mouths together. 

Blaine dragged the back of Kurt’s cardigan out of his skirt so he could splay his hand over his back. He hooked his other hand under Kurt’s ass and lifted him off the counter, staggering slightly under his weight as they half stumbled, half crashed-into-walls to Blaine’s bedroom. 

A loud huff left Kurt when he was dropped onto Blaine’s bed and he immediately grabbed at his blouse and cardigan, yanking them off his body. He then tugged Blaine back down by his turtleneck, pulling it off. 

“Do you like these tights?” Blaine asked, nudging at Kurt’s legs while Kurt pulled his skirt up and off via his shoulders.

“Uh…” Kurt blinked, trying to clear his mind. “Not particularly?”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Blaine muttered as he ripped them open.

Kurt rolled his eyes, laughing as Blaine tripped over his pants to get to his bedstand. “Wait, you have lube and condoms here but not at your own house?”

Blaine arched an eyebrow. “Were you…snooping in my bedside table?”

Kurt shrugged. “You never know where a bloody axe might be hidden.”

Blaine rolled his eyes before kissing him again. Scraps of stockings and remaining underwear was shed until Blaine was biting down very insistently on Kurt’s neck while twisting three of his fingers inside of him.

“Oh hurry up,” Kurt panted, scratching his nails up and down Blaine’s back. 

“You young men,” Blaine laughed against his neck. “Always so impatient.”

“And you old men,” Kurt snapped back. “Always so slow.”

Blaine shot him a look before ripping open the condom wrapper and rolling it on himself. Kurt grabbed the lube and slicked him up before wrapping his legs around him impatiently.

“Patience is a virtue,” Blaine clucked as he lined himself up.

Kurt stared at him incredulously. “You’re seriously bringing up virtue now? Now?” 

Blaine grinned, leaning down to kiss him sweetly before snapping his hips forward.

“Oh god, Blaine.”

Blaine grabbed Kurt’s legs and brought them up over his shoulders, twisting him into a pretzel as he thrust his hips harder and harder, their legs smacking together sharply and eliciting a series of “uh uh uh”s from Kurt as the bed rocked into the brick wall. 

Blaine pressed his forehead against Kurt’s collarbone as he panted against his chest, pounding into him over and over and over until he lost the rhythm and his sight and everything until he could only hear Kurt’s “Ah!”s and feel his slick hot heat and smell that odd bergamot and lavender and laundry detergent scent that was just so Kurt.

There was a sharp snap as the wood headboard cracked against the brick wall and Blaine stretched his head up until he was over Kurt’s throat, licking across his Adam’s apple before biting down hard.

Kurt let out a strangled cry as his back arched up and body clenched down. Blaine managed to snake an arm under Kurt’s back and pull him up close, bending him completely in half as Blaine came, clutching as much of Kurt’s body to him as he could. They shivered and held that position, breathing heavily until Blaine felt his arms starting to cramp and Kurt’s legs twitched against his shoulders and they steadily unfolded each other. The cleanup process was short and simple and silent. Kurt came back from the bathroom and stood awkwardly at the foot of Blaine’s bed, staring at his toes. Blaine opened his arms and Kurt was immediately in them. They curled around each other as they drifted off to sleep.

***

Five o’clock in the morning found the two in Blaine’s kitchen. Kurt, completely naked, was stretched out on top of Blaine’s counter while Blaine, in only an apron, was frying potstickers. Kurt stared at the light brown ceiling, resting his cocoa mug over his solar plexus and ignoring the burning sensation on his chest. “We should probably talk.”

”Yeah,” Blaine nodded. “That seems like a good idea.”

“Mmm,” Kurt assented, tipping his head up enough to take a sip of cocoa before clunking it back down on the counter. “Honesty time?”

“Honesty time. Fire away.”

“So…are you gay or straight or bi…”

Blaine laughed slightly and Kurt appreciated the way it made his back contort. “Uh, none of them? I mean, I was never really interested in anyone growing up. I never felt attracted to anyone in particular and it always annoyed me that people tried to label one way or the other.” He gave a half shrug. “I used to just think I was asexual.” 

“Used to?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.

Blaine shot him a look over his shoulder. “Well, due to recent events, I think I’m leaning more towards Kurtsexual.” 

Kurt tried to hide his smugness by taking another sip of cocoa. “Is that so?”

“Indeed, it is,” Blaine smiled, bringing a platter of freshly cooked potstickers over to the counter and resting it on Kurt’s belly.

Kurt plucked up one of them and smiled as he bit into it. “Yay. Food.”

“Yes,” Blaine hummed into his cocoa mug. “I have quite the feast laid out before me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “You’d think a writer would have better lines.” 

“I’m sleepy and sated. Cut me some slack.”

Kurt smiled at the ceiling, eating another potsticker.

“Who’s your friend in the city?”

Kurt bit his lip. “I can’t tell you yet.”

“Kurt—”

“But you’ll see tomorrow. He’s my date to that masquerade party…thing.”

Blaine pouted. “But I thought I was your date.”

“I’m pretty sure you have to take your wife to that, Blaine.”

“Oh yeah,” Blaine muttered, popping another potsticker into his mouth.

“So tell me about Rachel,” Kurt said quietly, sipping his cocoa.

Blaine shrugged. “I don’t know. I dated a lot out of college, trying to find someone and that didn’t really work. Rachel was fun. A bit crazy but she wasn’t all bad. I kept getting not-so-subtle hints from my parents about how she was a nice girl and how I could maybe start writing for Broadway and I pretty much married her to shut them up. Oh, and because she actually did want to marry me and we were good friends."

He sighed, resting his head against Kurt's ribcage. “But…it fell apart almost immediately. Rachel married me because she liked that I didn’t worship her but…she still wanted to be worshiped. And we finally sat down and talked everything out and I think she got mad because she couldn’t figure out a reason why I wasn’t attracted to her. It wasn’t because I was gay, it wasn’t because she had some sort of deformity. I didn’t think she was ugly and I wasn’t in love with someone else. And she was just so upset because she needed a reason for me to not want her in order to accept it, but I couldn’t give her one. Then she started fooling around with other guys to make me jealous and that didn’t work. So then she started messing with other guys because she was lonely.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “We actually used to be good friends.”

“Until you got married and everything went south,” Kurt said dryly.

“Pretty much,” Blaine sighed. “And it’s awful because I should care but I just…don’t. I just never really cared much about anyone. Ever. Well…there was an exception but that lasted about five minutes. And I don’t know. My family was just never particularly warm, and I never made any really good friends in high school or college…” 

“But then some annoying little high school drop-out just had to go and ruin your laptop…”

Blaine smiled, leaning over to peck Kurt on the cheek. “Best bad thing to ever happen to me, hands down.”

Kurt giggled, wriggling against the counter comfortably.

“What’s your happiest memory?”

Kurt looked over at Blaine in surprise.

“From…before,” Blaine elaborated. “I know a lot of bad stuff happened that you probably don’t want to talk about, but I was wondering about the good…”

Kurt settled his head back into the counter and tapped on his bellybutton. “This.”

Blaine’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Getting your bellybutton pierced?”

Kurt shook his head. “No. And these two.” He fingered the four glass beads, two white two black, that he always had in his hair. “When…” he cleared his throat. “When I was five, I was given a music box by my favorite person in the world. It was a Wizard of Oz music box and it played Somewhere Over The Rainbow. And I was told that if I tapped on the ruby on top of the box three times while whispering ‘There’s no place like home… there’s no place like home… there’s no place like home…’ then I’d be able to find my way home.” He smiled wryly. “That didn’t really work, but it’s still a nice memory. And these are all I have left of the music box.”

“What happened to it?” Blaine murmured.

Kurt’s expression grew dark. “Someone broke it.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine sighed, pushing the plate off of Kurt’s stomach and leaning over to kiss his bellybutton. Kurt’s stomach fluttered in laughter and Blaine smiled before dragging his lips further down, kissing the scarred skin. “Om nom nom…”

“Blaine!” Kurt laughed, tugging on his hair to bring his face up. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“No, I just love your body,” Blaine groaned, mouthing along the side of Kurt’s hip. “And here it is, laid out before me like a feast.” He kissed along the side of his ribs until he encountered the rose tattoo, tracing the black ink with his tongue. On impulse, he stretched Kurt’s arm up above his head and started diving in along his tattoo, sucking and biting and steadily climbing higher and higher up his ribs.

“Blaine, that tick—oh fuck!” 

Kurt’s heels dragged up the counter as Blaine burrowed into the skin just below his underarm, biting and digging in with his teeth as he scraped his fingers across Kurt’s nipples. He moved his lips over to the soft underside of Kurt’s arm and started worrying a hickey into the white skin.

“God, you would be the one to have some sort of weird side-fetish,” Kurt gasped.

Blaine stepped up onto the stool so he could climb onto the counter. “I’m pretty sure I just have a Kurt fetish.”

Kurt grinned, grabbing his shoulders and managing to reverse their positions so that he was straddling Blaine’s hips. “Well then by all means, Mr. Anderson. Indulge.”

Blaine propped himself up onto his elbows before pulling Kurt back down for a kiss.

***

The vast majority of Friday was spent attempting to talk with one another and mostly just ending up having sex all over the apartment. Blaine discovered that he did indeed have a thing for Kurt’s side. Kurt found out that he was particularly attracted to the V of Blaine’s hips. 

They also ran out of potstickers and chocolate and eventually had to order take-out. 

Friday night, they didn’t have sex. They were curled up on Blaine’s couch, take-out boxes surrounding them and wrapped up in a comforter as they watched The Wizard of Oz, singing along and quoting every second. Kurt ended up nuzzled in the crook of Blaine’s neck, his eyes growing heavy as Dorothy tearfully kissed everyone goodbye before clicking her pretty red slippers together.

“There’s no place like home…” Kurt murmured sleepily into Blaine’s neck before drifting off.

***

A thick fog settled over the island of Manhattan and a lone couple were reclining in a boat in Central Park.

”Why is it that after taking a new step in our sexual relationship, we always end up in a rowboat together?”

Blaine snorted, letting the oars settle in the boat. “I think the real question is why do you always end up in a corset?”

Kurt rolled his eyes, playing with his fake auburn curls. “It’s for the dress I have to wear tonight. And last time it was to get us in a creative mood.”

“And we ended up having sex in the middle of Lake Union. You know, the lake that’s bordered by downtown, Queen Anne, Capitol and just about every other vastly populated areas of Seattle.” 

“Like you were complaining,” Kurt smirked. “But no tomfoolery today. My hair has to stay pristine for the ball tonight.”

“And you still won’t tell me who your date is,” Blaine groaned.

“You’ll see,” Kurt chided. “And you only have to wait like…three hours.”

“True,” Blaine sighed. “So we’ve ruled me and Rachel out on the list of killers.”

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded. “And the Tinman or Queen of Hearts has to be someone linked to the cast.”

Blaine nodded, staring up at the sky thoughtfully. Then he sat up. “We’ve missed something.”

Kurt sat up straighter. “What?”

“Harmony and Cassandra. There’s another link between them.” He looked back at Kurt. “They live in the same apartment building.”

Kurt stared at him. “Is there anyone else in the cast who also lives there? Because they could be the next victim—”

“Or our killer,” Blaine stared. “My thoughts exactly.”

Kurt licked his lips. “Okay, you need to find out who while I go meet my date. Get Rachel, bring her to the party and I’ll show up as well and we can figure this whole thing out together.”

“Alright,” Blaine nodded.

The fog grew denser.

***

“Hey, it’s Kurt.”

“Hey. Are you on your way?”

“Just a few blocks away. You have a dress for me, I hear?”

“I have a dress for Alexandra Bergamot.”

“Excellent. Thanks again, Jesse.”

“See you soon, Kurt.”

Jesse smiled lightly, clicking off his phone as he sat on the edge of the Gershwin stage, looking out over the blue seats.

***

Kurt’s eyes were widened and leaking tears against the wooden table. His nose was pressed uncomfortably against the surface and it mashed harder and harder into the wood with each jolt of his body. His ankles and wrists were handcuffed to the table legs and he was naked. He’d wet himself half an hour ago and it had been ten minutes since he’d lost his voice to screaming. 

That didn’t stop his voice from trying every time the whip came down hard on his back. 

He started to lose himself to the fuzzy black spots that kept appearing when a voice rang through the room.

“What the hell?”

“Oh, hey Jesse! Isn’t it awesome?”

“What are you doing?”

“He was trying to run away. This is to teach him a lesson.”

“I don’t know man, this seems—”

“Come on! I’ll show you.”

Crack.

Kurt jolted on the table.

“Stop!”

Kurt blinked, realizing that the words hadn’t come from him.

“He’s been bad. He deserves it. Why don’t you give it a shot?”

“I don’t think I want to…”

“Well watch this…” He leaned down over Kurt with a smile. “Kurt? Are you stupid?”

Kurt nodded.

“Are you an idiot?”

Kurt nodded.

“Do you deserve this?”

Kurt nodded. 

“See? It’s awesome. He responds however I want him to, like a puppy.”

“Dude, this is not cool.”

“Sure it is, just give it a shot. Ask him if he’s a little bitch.”

“I—”

“Jesse.”

Jesse leaned down in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes.

Kurt tilted his head up slowly, breath raspy and eyes blinking against the light.

Jesse opened his mouth. “Do you have any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?”

Kurt’s brow furrowed before his shakily shook his head.

Jesse kept staring at him. “Can you name me three things beginning with the letter M?”

Kurt licked his lips before rasping out, “M-marigold.”

Jesse nodded. “Yes, good.”

“M-m-marmalade.”

“You’re doing great. Just one more.”

Kurt’s eyes glanced up at his brother. “M-monster.”

***

Jesse closed his eyes in an effort to blink back the memories as imaginary music started flowing through his ears.

"Well there are some nights I hold on to every note I ever wrote

Some nights, I say fuck it all and stare at the calendar

Waiting for catastrophes, imagine when they scare me

Into changing whatever it is I am changing into…"

He backed away from the audience, looking down at himself before looking back up, a devilish grin cracking onto his face. 

"And you have every right to be scared.

Cause there are some nights I hold you close, pushing you to hold me

Or begging you to lock me up and never let me see the world

Some nights I live in horror of the people on the radio

Tea parties and twitter. I’ve never been so bitter and…"

He started to sway back and forth.

"You, why you wanna stay?

Oh my god! Have you listened to me lately? 

Lately, I’ve been going crazy

And you, why you wanna stay?

Oh my god! Have you listened to me lately?

Lately, I’ve been fucking crazy…"

He ran to the front of the stage.

"There are some nights I wait for someone to save us

But I never look inward, I try not to look upward

And some nights I pray a sign is gonna come to me

But usually… I’m just trying to get some sleep."

He sighed, looking at the ground before looking back up into the stage lights.

"Some nights!"

He breathed heavily, looking out over the empty audience. 

A clap came from behind him and he turned, spotting Kurt walk out from by the curtains. He was wearing a white corset and matching slip, a gray trenchcoat over one arm.

“Impressive,” Kurt smiled, walking over to him. “Then again, you always were.” 

“True,” Jesse shrugged before a smile broke out on his face as well. “You’re doing okay, Kurt? Blaine’s not being a dick?”

Kurt shook his head. “No. And the investigation is becoming…interesting.”

“Really?” Jesse arched an eyebrow.

Kurt nodded, filling him in on what they’d discovered.

Jesse rolled his eyes. “I could’ve told you that Rachel wasn’t the killer.”

“Ah,” Kurt said with a smile.

Jesse blinked. “What?”

“So that’s why you’re doing this. I always wondered…” Kurt smirked.

“Oh shut up,” Jesse groaned.

“You like a married woman,” Kurt giggled.

“You like a married man,” Jesse shot back.

“Touche.” 

Jesse smiled. “Well, we’d better mask up and go meet our married couple.”

Kurt stared at him oddly. “Jesse, are you okay? I mean, you’re acting kind of weird…”

Jesse looked at him hard, before suddenly hugging him.

Kurt blinked in surprise. “Jesse…?”

“I just have this really bad feeling that something terrible is going to happen tonight,” he said quietly. “And Kurt…I’m so sorry about everything that happened before.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt whispered. “It’s over now.”

“That’s the thing…” Jesse said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared that it isn’t.”

They pulled back and looked at each other, fear in both of their eyes.

“We just have to get through tonight, right?” Kurt said, licking his lips. “Let’s just get through tonight. You look after Rachel and I’ll look after Blaine.”

“Okay,” Jesse nodded. “But Kurt? Look after yourself as well. I worry about you.”

Kurt let out a shaky laugh. “Wow, you must be really freaked out if you’re admitting that.”

Jesse smiled humorlessly. “Oh, you have no idea.”

***

Even with the bright lights of Manhattan, it was hard to see scarcely ten feet in front of you with the dense fog that had somehow captured the city.

Beiste finally got Blaine and Rachel onto the block of the party, the traffic five times worse that usual due to the minimal visibility.

“Well, at least we’re fashionably late,” Rachel sighed, tucking her phone into her clutch and arranging her gold dress around herself artfully.

Blaine looked over at her and gave a half smile. “You look beautiful tonight.”

She glance at him in surprise before straightening her spine. “Thank you. You look very debonair yourself.”

He sighed. “Rachel—”

“Blaine, I’d rather not get into an argument right before we have to make a public appearance—”

“—I’m sorry.”

She froze before arching an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I’m sorry for how this marriage has gone,” he rubbed his eyes wearily. “And I’m sorry because I know that this isn’t what you wanted from a husband.”

She stared at him for a long while before releasing a sigh. “It takes two to tango, Blaine,” she said quietly, looking out her window. “My dads always told me that I should marry someone who loved me more than I loved them. They said that that’s what I needed, but I never listened.” She looked down at her lap. “I just thought that we’d end up…”

“Balancing each other out?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “My mania would mesh with your stoicism.”

“And it did,” Blaine shrugged. “I mean, we were good friends. We’re just not good…”

“Spouses.”

They sat in silence as they inched closer to their destination.

“I’m sorry I had sex with Finn in our bed.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Rachel shook her head. “I knew that those were your favorite sheets and I did it anyways.”

“I did love them dearly,” Blaine nodded sadly.

Silence. And then they burst out laughing.

“Oh god,” Rachel wheezed, hand pressed to her chest. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” Blaine laughed. “Actually, that’s my least favorite thing about our marriage. That it ruined our friendship.”

“Yeah,” Rachel snorted. “Marriages tend to do that. Remember when we watched Jerry McGuire together?”

“Oh yeah,” Blaine nodded. He looked at Rachel and they pointed at each other, yelling, “Show me the money!” together before dissolving into giggles again. 

“Can we get this back?” Rachel asked with a smile. “I mean, our marriage is clearly going nowhere, but can we at least be friends again?”

Blaine smiled back. “I’d like that. And there is something I’d like to talk to you about after tonight. Some…things have come up.”

“I know.”

“Really?”

Rachel nodded. “You’ve been different since coming back from Seattle. I mean, sort of heartless at times, but much more…active. You used to just sit there writing and now you’re all over the city, always busy. But we’ll talk after the party?”

“After the party,” Blaine nodded as they pulled up in front of the station. “But for now, I have to escort the belle of the ball to her masquerade.”

 Rachel smiled as they pulled on their masks and Blaine helped her out of the car.

***

The party was already under full swing when Blaine and Rachel walked in. Masqueraders in a variety of costumes were flitting about the place, showing off their costumes. Blaine and Rachel did the rounds, greeting Artie, giving their regards to Chandler and Sebastian, having a very brief conversation with Finn, chitchat with Wes, before finally settling with Sam and his date Santana.

“She’s my friend from the precinct,” Sam said pointedly.

“I’m just an intern,” she rolled her eyes. She was dressed as a phoenix, all red and scarlet and orange. “I’m still making my way through law school.”

“And doing fabulously,” Sam grinned. He was dressed as a knight. “She wins every argument we have!”

“That’s not exactly hard, Sam,” Blaine said dryly.

“Come on,” Santana said, pulling Sam away. “I came here to dance, Lips.”

“Well well well.”

Blaine rolled his eyes before turning around to face Jesse dressed all in black as well with…Kurt. On his arm.

Blaine tried not to stare.

“Jesse,” Rachel smiled, kissing his cheeks. “Always a pleasure. And…” her expression hardened slightly as she saw Kurt. “Alexandra, right?”

“Yes,” Kurt said sweetly, shaking her hand. “Rachel, correct? I love your gown. Is that a new Marchesa?”

Rachel looked taken aback at the sudden compliment before preening. “Yes, it is.”

“And who are you supposed to be?” Jesse gave Blaine’s black outfit a once over. “Edgar Allen Poe?”

“Hades,” Blaine rolled his eyes. “And you’re…?”

“The Dread Pirate Roberts, of course.”

“With…” Blaine’s eyes raked up and down Kurt’s dress. It was a silvery gray with some sort of iridescent rainbow thread that had a large unicorn embroidered onto it, its horn reaching up to Kurt’s left shoulder, his auburn hair falling down into cascade waves and a spiderweb-esque mask across his face. “…the Last Unicorn?”

“Correct!” Kurt smiled.

“And I’m Queen Midas,” Rachel said, dusting off her large metallic skirt.

“Ah,” Jesse grinned. “The perfect bounty for a scurrilous pirate. May I have the next dance, your majesty?” 

A smile lit Rachel’s face as she took Jesse’s arm. “You may.” 

Kurt and Blaine watched the two walk off with amusement. 

“Well that was incredibly blatant,” Kurt muttered.

“Well, this is Jesse and Rachel we’re talking about,” Blaine shrugged. “Speaking of which, may I have this dance?” He offered his arm to Kurt who smiled and took it. They started dancing, blending into the sea of masks.

“So how do you know Jesse?” Blaine asked.

“We go way back,” Kurt smiled. “Like…really far back.”

“Is that so?” Blaine said curtly, looking out over the masqueraders. 

Kurt blinked in surprise before a slow smile crept on his face. “Blaine Anderson…do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

“No,” Blaine scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh my god!” Kurt laughed. “You’re jealous!”

“So?” Blaine grumbled.

“So? I thought you didn’t get jealous!”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Blaine sighed. “But there are more pressing matters.”

“Right,” Kurt nodded, suddenly somber. “Well, you can definitely cross Jesse off your suspect list. He was the one who talked me into staying here to check out the murders. I think he wanted to make sure that Rachel wouldn’t become a victim.”

“Okay,” Blaine nodded. “So that leaves…three suspects, I think? Finn Hudson, though that doesn’t seem likely—”

Kurt glanced to the side.

“—Sunshine Corazon just because she has the most motive, and Chandler Kiehl.”

Kurt frowned. “Chandler? Why him?”

“Oh, because he lives in the same apartment building as Harmony and Cassandra did.”

“Oh,” Kurt whispered, biting his lip. “I guess I’m still just confused because of motive—”

“Blaine!” 

They cut off as Rachel and Jesse appeared next to them, dancing.

Kurt and Blaine glanced at each other before easily switching partners. Jesse and Kurt waltzed further into the dance floor, trying to get a safe distance. 

“Anymore news?” Jesse murmured. 

“We’re down to three suspects,” Kurt said quietly. “But we still can’t think of motive.”

“Okay,” Jesse nodded. “But stick close, okay? I still have a feeling that something’s about to go horribly wrong.”

Kurt nodded and they kept dancing. Jesse spun him out at one point and he accidentally let go. Kurt grasped for a hand until another one pulled him back from a twirl and he was in someone else’s arms. 

“Oh! Excuse me,” Kurt blushed before making his way back to the edge of the dance floor, dancing with random partners to make his way back as smoothly as possible.

He was plucked up in another man’s arms and he glanced over his shoulder, standing on his tiptoes to try and see if he could spot Jesse or Blaine. 

The arm around him suddenly tightened and a gloved hand traced down his back. Kurt was about to shove back when a voice started to sing softly in his ear.

“If a man’s an empty kettle, he should be on his mettle…”

His fingers suddenly dug into the scars on Kurt’s back.

“And yet I’m torn apart…”

He cupped Kurt’s face and leaned back so he could look at him through his cold metallic mask.

“Just because I’m presumin’ that I could be a human…” His grin turned feral. “If I only had a heart.” 

Kurt froze, his eyes wide as he stared at the Tinman. “You…” he whispered. “It’s you.”

The Tinman smiled. “Hello, Kurt.”

“I should have known it was you,” Kurt said, horror filling every inch of his body. “Oh god, how could I have not realized it sooner?”

“Well, you never were the brightest,” Tinman shrugged with a laugh. “Though I must say, you do clean up nicely.” He eyed Kurt’s body and Kurt felt his stomach churn. “And didn’t I always say that you’d make a better girl than boy?” 

“Why are you doing this?” Kurt whispered. “I still don’t understand your motive. Why?”

“Because…” he leaned in close to Kurt’s ear. “It’s fun.”

Kurt shook his head. “There’s something else. There’s always something else with you.”

A smile. “True. I have something else right now.”

Kurt didn’t want to ask. He did. “What?”

The Tinman pulled him closer so he could sing in his ear. “I’ve got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine…”

Kurt looked at him confused and the Tinman rolled his eyes. He grabbed Kurt’s hand and put it into his suit pocket. Kurt frowned, feeling around until he grabbed something and he froze, looking back up at the Tinman.

He was grinning.

Kurt opened his mouth but the Tinman was too fast, clapping a hand over it before Kurt could scream. 

“Now now, Kurt,” he hushed. “I shared my little secret with you. You wouldn’t want to go blabbing it to everyone else now would you?” He leaned in close until their noses were touching. “Or do you want me to chop off something else of yours?”

Kurt shook his head quietly and the Tinman took his hand off his mouth.

“Good boy. Or girl. It’s always so hard to tell with you.”

“Sunshine…” Kurt whispered, shaking. “That…that was her…”

“Heart, yes,” Tinman shrugged. He pulled the little corner of the ziplock bag that held the Broadway star’s organ in his pocket. “Nothing like a pre-masquerade killing to get a party really starting.”

Kurt blinked back tears. “You’re a monster.”

“I know, dear,” Tinman smiled. “You’ve told me before.”

“I’ll go to the police,” Kurt said dazedly. 

“How well did that work out last time? Oh, but even if you try,” he leaned down close, grin inches from Kurt’s lips. “I’ll skewer Blaine.”

What color was left in Kurt’s face disappeared. “No.”

“Yes. Slowly. Painfully. And you can rest assured that I’ll make. You. Watch.”

“Name your price.”

Tinman blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Your price,” Kurt rasped. “You have one. You always have. I know you and I know where this is going so just name your price.” 

Tinman grinned. “You. My apartment. Midnight. Too hard?”

“No,” Kurt said. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. And remember that if there’s anyone else involved, I’ll handcuff Blaine to his dining room table and skin him alive.” He slipped one of his business cards down the front of Kurt’s dress. “Midnight, Kurt. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

A loud scream pierced the room.

“And that’s my cue,” Tinman grinned. “I think they just found Sunshine’s body upstairs. Time to move with the masses. 

He left Kurt standing in the middle of the floor as all the other dancers halted, wondering what the commotion was about.

***

Within a minute, the hall was full-blown panicked. People were running everywhere and screaming murder. Blaine clamped onto Rachel’s hand tightly and suddenly Jesse was at his side as well. “Where’s Kurt?” Blaine yelled over the shouts and screams, all pretenses lost.

“I don’t know!” Jesse yelled back. “He disappeared—”

“I’m right here!” Through a couple dressed as Anthony and Cleopatra, Kurt managed to emerge, holding half of his gown up. 

“Jesse, take them home!” Blaine urged, pushing them together. “I’m going to go and help.

“Blaine!” Rachel yelled.

“Just go with Jesse!” he shouted back. He turned to Kurt. “I’ll text you!” 

Kurt nodded and Blaine ran off into the crowd.

“Come on,” Jesse muttered, grabbing Kurt’s arm and dragging him and Rachel out of the fray. They made it outside into the thick fog relatively safe. 

“Jesse,” Kurt hissed into his ear. “Take Rachel home. I’m going to stay here and make sure Blaine is okay.”

“But Kurt—”

“Remember? You said you’d look after Rachel and I said I’d look after Blaine, okay?”

Jesse bit his lip. “Okay. But make sure to look after yourself in return. Alright?”

“Alright,” Kurt nodded. He waited until Jesse got into his car with Rachel before finding a taxi.

He went back to the apartment, losing his dress and wig and rubbing a towel over his face. He dressed simply. A pair of jeans. An old tee shirt. Converse. Jacket. Then he opened his sketchbook and started writing.

***

Blaine received the text an hour after he’d last seen Kurt.

I’m at the apartment. I’m safe. 

He nodded and listened more to the police report. Sunshine was killed earlier this evening, just before the party had started, upstairs.

Blaine frowned. It didn’t fit the other profiles and didn’t really make sense either. But it was the same killer. Same technique. Heart still missing. 

He sighed, walking away from the small mob that was crowded around the policeman and ran into Chandler Kiehl.

“Whoops,” Chandler laughed. “Sorry, Blaine.”

“Chandler,” Blaine said, hand gripping his arm. “What were you doing tonight before the party?”

Chandler frowned at him, confused. “I was getting drinks with Jeff and Nick.”

“Really?” Blaine smiled tightly. “And what did you do afterwards?”

Chandler stared at him. “I came to the party with them and we met up with all our dates and danced together.”

Blaine floundered momentarily. “Well, you live in the same apartment as Harmony and Cassandra did, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what were you doing on the nights of their murders?”

Chandler blinked. “Well, during Harmony’s murder I was out with Wes and David, and during Cassandra’s, I was at your place.”

Blaine stared. “What?”

“Rachel invited me and Artie over for a Streisand night,” Chandler shrugged. “Since we all love her.”

“Oh,” Blaine muttered, letting him go. “Okay then.”

Chandler had an alibi. Plus Sunshine didn’t live in his building, so that basis was completely out.

Then who the hell was Tinman? 

***

Blaine went back to his apartment an hour later. “Kurt?”

All the lights were off.

Blaine walked back to Kurt’s room and clicked on the light. No one. His room. No one. Any of the rooms.

No one.

Blaine grabbed his phone and dialed Kurt’s number.

There was a buzzing noise on the kitchen counter.

Blaine walked over to it and there was Kurt’s phone. Along with the four glass beads from his hair, his bellybutton piercing, and his sketchbook, with a couple of handwritten pages torn out on top. Blaine picked up the pages and read.

Blaine—

I’m sorry, but I have to stop him. I know who Tinman is. I think I’ve known all along deep down but I didn’t want to admit it to myself because I didn’t want to face my fears.

(And he scares me, Blaine. He’s the second most terrifying person I know. No, not a person. God, he’s a monster. He always has been.)

But I can’t tell you who because I don’t want you to come after me. I have to do this on my own. If you got hurt along the way…

You wanted the truth, right? Well here it is:

My name is Kurt Hummel. I was born in Lima, Ohio. My parents were Burt and Alice Hummel. We got in a car crash when I was five. My mother died instantly. My father survived, but he slipped into a coma. I was placed in an orphanage but no one wanted me so I was put into foster care. The family I ended up with… It was terrible, Blaine. It was horrific. It’s the reason my back is the way it is and also the…condition between my legs.

Because I was the gay kid adopted by the homophobic couple who believed that…lashing a child would take the wickedness out of them.

I was beaten for everything: singing, talking, not pushing in my chair at the table, eating too much, hugging their son, and, eventually, being gay. 

Mom and Dad were bad but my brother…

Blaine, he was…terrifying. 

It got a whole lot worse which ended with me leaving and well…that was messy. I was half crazed out of my mind and I hitchhiked west. As far west as I could go. And I ended up on the streets of a rainy little city, found by Emma and calling myself Dorothy. 

There’s a whole lot more to the story, but it’s not important. There are other matters at hand. 

I have to stop my brother, Blaine. At any cost. Even if that cost is me. Because I know what will happen if I don’t. 

And you can’t follow me. That’s why I’ve refrained from using names. You can’t get hurt, Blaine. You’re too precious, too wonderful, too beautiful, too…you. If anything happened to you, I would never ever be able to forgive myself. 

Because—god, if I’m going to get my heart ripped out of my chest, I may as well do it thoroughly—the thing is…

I love you, Blaine Anderson.

Do you want to know when I realized? It wasn’t when we first met, or our first time, or when you were writing words on my back and tapping my bellybutton piercing and proclaiming that there was no place like home, or when you dragged me out of Will’s office, or when I’d found out that you weren’t truly mine. It wasn’t one of those significant moments that defined our relationship.

No, it was Lake Union. Remember Lake Union? We were in a rowboat and I’d dressed us up in quasi-Victorian alternative chic clothes to help us brainstorm who the Scarecrow was in real life and his storyline in the book. And then I made some comment about being the Alice Liddel to your Lewis Carroll and you suddenly got horny—and I was planning on using that inappropriate fantasy of yours against you one day—and we ended up messing around right there in the rowboat?

Yeah, that was it. Being on my back in the bottom of that boat, giggling with you as we tried not to tip over. That’s when I realized that I was in love with you. 

Because what other crazy ass force in the universe would have me in a corset in the middle of a lake in October fooling around with some guy who was nearly twice my age? Love works in mysterious ways…

See? I made you smile. I know this is probably depressing you (oh you silly writers, always getting so goddamn emotional) so I wanted to inject a little humor in there. But it is one hundred percent true. 

And I’m so, so sorry for how all of this turned out. But know that I love you. And please, if you feel even an inkling of what I do for you, don’t come looking for me. I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt.

I’ll see you around, Mr. Earl Grey.

Well actually…I guess I won’t.

I love you. I’m sorry.

Kurt

P.S. If the murders continue, find Jesse. He’s mad as a hatter, but he’ll know how to stop him.

Blaine stared at the note. He reread it. And then again.

“No.”

He looked wildly around the cold empty apartment and ran his fingers through his hair.

“No!”

He shoved all the appliances off of the counter.

“NO!”

He called Jesse.

“Hey, this is St. James. Leave a message.”

“Jesse pick up your fucking phone! It’s an emergency call me back!”

He called him again.

Then he called Carl.

“Detective Howell. I’m not at my desk right now. Please leave your name and number.”

“Carl! It’s Blaine. You have to look up records for Lima, Ohio and tell me everything there is to know about Kurt Hummel!”

He hung up and dropped his cell phone on the table, collapsing in a chair as he looked around wildly, trying not to panic.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on, who is it?” If Kurt had figured it out, it had to be someone they both knew. But Blaine didn’t know who Kurt knew… “Come on!”

Nothing. He was pulling a blank.

He shoved away from the table, going back over to the file that had all the newspaper clippings from the paper. Harmony and Cassandra. Now Sunshine. Chopped off heads. Cut out hearts. Little hearts cut all over their bodies and peeled away. Arms and feet locked in handcuffs. What was he missing? What was the key?

Tinman. Who would want to be Tinman? Tinman didn’t have a heart…

He groaned, sitting down on the ground cross-legged, mind firing back and forth. He needed a motive. Motive. Motive…

But there wasn’t one! Why would he kill girls off from the cast unless… Unless…

Blaine slid his hands off his face slowly, staring at his wall, his mind racing.

It was someone Kurt knew. His…brother?…apparently. But Kurt had never mentioned having a brother, he’d never mentioned anything about his family. So who…who…

A memory flickered in the back of Blaine’s mind and he grabbed the letter and the reports and Kurt’s cellphone and headed out.

He slid into his car and told Beiste to take him to SoHo. 

He raced up to the fifth floor and knocked on the apartment.

No reply.

He backed up, ready to kick the door down when it opened and Finn Hudson stuck his head out.

“Where is he,” Blaine demanded.

Finn blinked. “Who? Blaine, can this wait until morning? I’m kind of busy…”

“Oh really?” Blaine snorted. “With what?” He shoved past Finn, into his apartment and immediately covered his eyes as high-pitched squeals filled the air. “Wow, I really didn’t need to see that.”

Finn dragged him out into the hallway, closing the door shut. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Why do you have blonde twins in there doing…that to hotdogs?” Blaine murmured woozily.

“Why are you at my place just barging in!” Finn raised his voice.

Blaine snapped out of it. “Where’s Kurt?”

Finn frowned. “Who?”

“Kurt Hummel. Your brother.”

Finn stared at him. “Dude, I don’t have a brother. My dad died when I was a kid and my mom raised me.”

“Yeah but—”

Blaine frowned. Kurt had written parents, not parent.

Finn tilted his head down at him. “Are you okay, man?”

“No,” Blaine shook his head. “No, I have to go…”

He was out of ideas. He slid back into his car and just told Beiste to drive around because he had no idea where else to look. His one other suspect had been Sunshine, and she was currently in six separate pieces. 

Blaine hopelessly sifted through the reports again, trying to go over the information that he knew so well in his mind…

It was someone from Kurt’s past, someone who knew him, his brother, a tormentor…Kurt had lash marks on his back. 

He looked over the reports again, reading everything he already knew. Female was knocked out. Handcuffed. Heart shapes were cut out and peeled off. Bleach. Limbs chopped off with a strong sideways blow.

Blaine blinked. Kurt had lash marks on his back. From being whipped. But…

He grabbed one of the photos—the one of Cassandra and looked at it. Her head, arms, and legs had all been chopped off by extremely strong single blows with an axe. And Kurt…his back was covered in lash marks, but not the usual kind. They weren’t vertical, they were horizontal. Like someone had a very strong sideways swing— 

The photos in his hand fluttered to the floor as Blaine stared out the window in shock.

“Beiste, get me to Tribeca NOW.”

He knew exactly who the Tinman was.

***

“Kurt! I almost didn’t recognize you! You are wearing boy clothes for once!”

Kurt froze, his heart suddenly up in his ears as he turned around to face the Tinman. He licked his lips and attempted to swallow. 

“Hello Sebastian.”

***

“Blaine? Pick up your phone. Anyways, Detective Ryan is pulling the Kurt Hummel files. Call me back when you have a free minute.” 

***

Sebastian smiled, taking off his suit jacket. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it Kurt?”

Kurt just stood silently, eyes wary.

Sebastian sighed. “Still the hesitance? I mean, we are brothers after all.”

“Foster brothers.”

“True,” Sebastian shrugged. “Still, we had some good times, right?”

Silence.

“So it’s come to that?” Sebastian asked quietly. He took a step forward and Kurt tried to run.

Sebastian hooked an arm around his waist and used the momentum to slam him into the wall. Kurt cried out as his head cracked painfully against it. Sebastian kneed him in the stomach and he doubled over before feeling the cold click around his wrist. 

“No!” he screamed as he tried to yank his hand free from the handcuff, but Sebastian just dragged him over to his desk. “No please! Stop! No! No!”

***

Blaine’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“Blaine? It’s Jesse. What happened?”

“What the hell?” Blaine exploded. “I told you to take Kurt home and make sure he was safe!”

“He told me that he was going to stay with you!” Jesse yelled back. “Oh god, what’s wrong?”

“He went after the killer!” Blaine said desperately. “And I figured it out, it’s Chandler’s boyfriend—”

“Chandler has a boyfriend?”

“—Sebastian.”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. 

“Blaine…” Jesse said quietly. “Are you talking about Sebastian Smythe?”

“Yes!”

“Blaine, where’s Kurt?”

“Probably at Sebastian’s already, he had an hour head start—”

“No Blaine listen to me. You have to get him out of there!”

“I know—”

“No, you don’t know! Sebastian’s a monster, and Kurt was never able to fight him off!” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I was his best friend throughout middle school until one day I went over to his house and he had Kurt tied up in the basement.”

“What?”

“I mean…I always new that his parents would hit Kurt and I suspected some other stuff that was a lot worse, but I didn’t care because I was just a dumb kid. But then Sebastian… His parents were out of town one weekend and I came over and he just…wouldn’t let up. He whipped Kurt’s back until it was a bloody pulp. That’s where most of his scars come from.”

“You didn’t tell the police?”

“That’s the thing, Blaine. Sebastian’s manipulative. And his dad’s the district attorney. I told the second time—”

“The second time?”

“…I came over to try and reconcile and Sebastian…had an axe.”

Blaine stared out the window as the cars rolled by. “You mean…”

“I called 911. Kurt wouldn’t stop bleeding and screaming…” 

“Oh my god.”

“How close are you?”

“Five minutes.”

“Okay, listen to me, Blaine,” Jesse said urgently. “Be careful. Be very very careful with Sebastian. He fights dirty.”

“Trust me,” Blaine growled as they entered Tribeca. “I know exactly how he fights.”

***

CRACK.

“Blaine was right. Vertical is much better,” Sebastian sighed. “I can’t believe you tried to cover up my work with ugly black ink.” 

Kurt laid handcuffed to the wooden desk, trembling weakly. Sebastian had just gone right at it, grabbing a whip from…somewhere and beating Kurt’s back, not even bothering to take off his shirt so that strips of cloth were being imbedded into the bloody ridges in his back. 

He didn’t even want to think about what his tattoo looked like at this point.

Sebastian came up behind him, casually digging his finger into one of the bloody wounds, sliding the cloth around. 

Kurt’s scream hurt his own ears, even muffled against the desk as it was.

“Oh! I never got to finish that song, did I?” Sebastian mused. “Where was I at? Ah yes…” He caressed Kurt’s back. “I’d be tender, I’d be gentle. And aw—” CRACK. “—ful sentimental regarding love and art. I’d be friends with the sparrows and the boy who shoots” CRACK. “the arrows if I only had a heart.”

“Please,” Kurt cried. “Please stop.”

“Picture me: A balcony. Above a voice sings low…” He grabbed a handful of Kurt’s hair. “Kurt, that’s your part.”

“W-wherefore art thou R-Romeo,” Kurt cried and Sebastian released his hair, causing his head to hit the table hard.

“Hear the beat?”

CRACK. CRACK.

“AAUGH!”

Sebastian sighed dreamily. “Ah, so sweet.” 

“Please, Sebastian—”

“Just to register emotion.” CRACK. “Jealousy.” CRACK. “Devotion.” CRACK. “And really” CRACK. “feel the part.” CRACK CRACK. “I could stay young and chipper.” CRACK. “And I’d lock it with a zipper.” CRACK. “If I only had a heart.” CRACK.

Kurt’s body was just convulsing violently on the table at this point.

“I think I’m singing too much, don’t you?” Sebastian frowned. “I know, you should do some! Ooh, I have the perfect song too and it’s Top 40 so I know you’ll know it.” He leaned down and whispered the tittle into Kurt’s ear.

“No,” Kurt moaned, shaking his head.

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!” CRACK. “Yes!” CRACK. “Yes!” CRACK.

Kurt shuddered, breath coming in ragged as his voice cracked.

“Kurt Kurt Kurt,” Sebastian murmured, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “If you don’t do it, it’ll be so much worse for you. And then I might have to involve Blaine—”

“Fine.”

“Yay,” Sebastian smiled, patting his back roughly, his palm driving into the sticky blood.

Kurt licked his dry cracked lips. “F-feels so good being bad… There’s no way I’m going back…” He coughed, tasting metallic on his tongue. “N-now the pain i-is my p-p-pleasure ‘cause nothing can m-measure…” He broke down into sobs until Sebastian cracked the whip over his back again.

“Keep singing.”

He tried to stop crying, but it was impossible. “L-love is great love is fine out the box out of line the affliction of the feel leaves me oh god Sebastian please stop please!”

CRACK.

“Keep. Singing.”

“C-cause I may be bad but I-I’m perfectly g-good at it. S-s-sex in the air I don’t c-care I love the smell of it. S-sticks and s-stones may b-break my b-bones but chains and w-whips ex—”

CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK

“STOP PLEASE SEBASTIAN PLEASE—”

“STOP!” 

Kurt and Sebastian’s heads snapped over to the doorway where Blaine Anderson was standing, looking like he was about to destroy a planet.

He also had a gun in his hand.

“Blaine,” Sebastian said cooly, straightening up. “How nice of you to join.”

“Drop the whip. Let him go,” Blaine said quietly, his voice that scary-calm it would get when he was really angry.

“I don’t think—”

“Drop the whip and let him go or I’ll blow your fucking brains out and then do it myself,” Blaine said calmly.

Sebastian shot him a look before the whip fell from his hand to the ground with a clatter.

“Good,” Blaine smiled coldly. “Now unlock his handcuffs and if you even move funny then this trigger gets pulled.”

Sebastian sighed and reached over to unlock the handcuffs. Kurt tried to raise himself up but his arms shook to badly and gave out.

“He’s pretty weak,” Sebastian shrugged. “Maybe you should put your gun down and help him—”

“Sure! Let me just put a bullet through your skull first!” Blaine snapped, cocking the gun.

Sebastian raised his hands and backed off. 

Kurt managed to slide off the table and stagger a couple of feet. Blaine walked over to him, eyes still glued on Sebastian, and offered him his arm. 

“How did you find me?” Kurt whispered.

“Yes, I’m curious as to that as well,” Sebastian droned. “Assuming that little Kurt here didn’t tell you.”

Blaine shot Sebastian a look. “Your scars, Kurt. They’re horizontal. Just like the way the girls were cut up. Someone who favors swinging horizontally. And after years of fencing practice with Sebastian…”

“Ah,” Sebastian smiled. “Quite clever of you, really.”

“And from there it was simple. Sebastian had motivation through you but also through his boyfriend, Chandler, who plays Boq in Wicked aka the Tinman. He killed Cassandra and Harmony and then hid in Chandler’s empty apartment. Also, Chandler had alibis for all three murders, but he wasn’t with his boyfriend for any of them. Then Jesse filled me in on the rest.”

“St. James,” Sebastian groaned. “Of course. Typical. I’ll have to deal with him next.”

“You won’t be dealing with anyone from prison, Sebastian,” Blaine glared. “The police are already on there way.”

Sebastian crossed his arms, glaring. “Oh, and Kurt’s going to stick around for the arrest? Because he and the police mix so well…”

“He’s right, Blaine,” Kurt whispered. “I can’t be here.”

“That’s fine,” Blaine said quietly. “Beiste is right outside. She’ll take you back to the apartment, okay?”

Kurt bit his lip before smiling softly. “Okay.”

“Can you get downstairs by yourself?”

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. The elevator’s just outside the door. I’ll be okay.” He looked back at Sebastian. “Just make sure that…he doesn’t get away.”

“I won’t,” Blaine promised. The he leaned down and kissed him briefly on the lips. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” Kurt smiled, wiping his nose as he took the warm trench coat that Blaine offered him and limped slightly out.

Blaine turned back to Sebastian, expression sour. “I think you and I need a little chat.” 

*** 

Kurt limped out of the building, shuddering at the thick dense pale gray coming in from all sides. He looked both ways in the fog, jumpy as he made his way over to the familiar black car. “Beiste?” he tapped on the window and the door unlocked. He slid in gratefully, glad to be out of the ominous fog as the car pulled away from the curb. He sent a text to Blaine before settling against the door, drifting off.

***

Blaine’s phone buzzed.

Got in the car. Tired. See you later. Let me know how it goes.

“Alright then,” Blaine nodded before looking back up at Sebastian. “What was the point of this?” he asked incredulously. “What was the point of any of it? I don’t get it.”

“A show,” Sebastian grinned. “See, I saw darling little Kurt with you online in that Seattle Times article and I knew where he was. So I got in touch with some people and then this happened to lure him out here. We knew he’d probably follow you around like a lost puppy. But he had to come back on our turf.”

“Who’s we?”

Sebastian shrugged.

“The police are on their way, Sebastian. You’d better start talking!” Blaine snapped.

“No, I really don’t because you’re going to let me make an escape,” Sebastian said calmly.

“And why would I do that?” Blaine sneered.

“Because I’m the only one who knows where Kurt is,” Sebastian smiled.

Blaine blinked. “He’s in my car on the way back to my apartment.”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to call him just to be absolutely certain?”

Blaine rolled his eyes before dialing Kurt’s number, holding his phone up to his ear.

It rang. And rang. And rang. And then went to voicemail. 

“Kurt, call me back,” Blaine said.

Sebastian smiled. “No reply.”

Blaine shot him a look before dialing Beiste’s number.

“Yes, Mr. Anderson?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were en route back to my apartment.”

“Aren’t I supposed to wait for your friend?”

Blaine felt his stomach drop. “He didn’t go straight into you car after leaving the building?”

“No, the building tenants told me that I had to park further down the street because of the fog, but I haven’t seen anyone.”

Blaine took his phone steadily down from his ear.

Sebastian grinned. “Oops.”

***

Kurt sniffed, rubbing his eyes as he woke up from dozing off. He glanced outside at the…suburbs?

“Beiste?” he murmured, sitting up and stretching. “Beiste, where are we going?”

He glanced at the reflection looking back at him in the driver’s mirror and he jolted up.

“You,” he breathed, eyes going wide.

The driver pressed a cloth to his own mouth before spraying something in the back. Kurt recognized the scent immediately and tried to hold his breath but it was already in his lungs, making him woozy. His head grew sluggish and he seemed to fall sideways onto the seat in slow motion, the driver’s voice echoing in his ears.

“Poppies. Poppies will put you to sleep…”

***

“Okay, this is weird,” Bryan frowned as he read the documents.

Carl raised his eyebrows. “Weirder than this whole thing’s already been?”

“Yeah. You know Katy Karofsky?” A nod. “Well we were wrong. Not a sister.”

“What are you talking about?” Carl frowned.

Bryan flipped the page over, showing him. “Chelsea Karofsky only gave birth once. No, Katy is a Karofsky by marriage.”

“You mean Paul got remarried?”

“No. David got married. Must have been one of those out of high school things.”

“Okay,” Carl nodded, looking at the burly son next to the pretty blonde not-daughter. “Well I guess that explains why they don’t look a thing alike. And what did we get on Kurt Hummel?”

“He and young Katherine apparently grew up in the same orphanage,” Bryan said, handing the records.

Carl frowned. “Hang on, can I see that picture of Kurt?”

Bryan handed it to him and Carl looked at it, frowning. His eyes widened.

“Oh no.”

***

“Where’s Kurt?” Blaine demanded.

“Let me go,” Sebastian shrugged.

“Not until you tell me where Kurt is!”

Sebastian sighed. “It’s simple, really. I just sent him home.”

“To your parents’ house?” Blaine gripped the gun tighter.

Sebastian snorted. “No way, that was his foster home.”

“Yeah, where he grew up after his parents got in a car crash.”

“Wait…” Sebastian’s eyes glinted. “You mean you don’t know the whole story?”

Blaine held the gun at level with Sebastian’s head. “Tell me.”

Sebastian smiled. “Well, mommy and daddy adopted Kurt. He was bad though, so they beat him so he’d been good. He talked too much and was just too odd and strange. And, well, gay. They didn’t like that he was gay at first.”

“At first?”

“Well, then they figured out that their real son was gay so they thought that maybe Kurt could be the lesser of two evils. Maybe if they made Kurt girly then I’d like him and eventually I’d like girls. It didn’t really work out. I liked real men and Kurt was just a pathetic wimpy little boy who cried too often whenever he’d get beaten.

“And he was pretty much already a girl so one weekend when mommy and daddy were out of town, I just took away that little bit that made him a boy,” Sebastian giggled. “Daddy wasn’t too happy about that. We almost got caught by the police. But then Kurt was useless. There was no way in hell that I’d want him and he just became a stupid broken little doll. Until fourteen happened.”

Blaine stared at him hard. “What’s fourteen?”

“Kurt’s fourteenth birthday,” Sebastian grinned. “When daddy found someone who wanted a broken doll.”

The color drained from Blaine’s face.

“Oh Blaine,” Sebastian crooned. “Why else do you think I brought Kurt here tonight? He needed to be broken in again before going back home.”

***

A sharp pain in his head was the first thing that registered. Kurt hissed lightly as he drowsily rolled his head against his chest. He tried to raise his hand up to rub at his eyes.

He couldn’t. 

Panic started to creep in as he woke up fully, blinking his eyes open. 

He was sitting in front of a girl with long blonde hair and a powder blue dress. Her blue eyes were wide and slightly hazy and her wrists and ankles were handcuffed to the arms and legs of her chair. 

Suddenly, a figure appeared behind the girl.

Dave Karofsky. 

Kurt panicked, pushing himself backwards in his chair, trying to get away from him. His chair tipped back but hit something, causing it to pause.

And Kurt found himself looking up into Dave Karofsky’s eyes.

The chair was pushed back down and Kurt realized that he was sitting in front of a mirror. He watched as Dave leaned over to whisper in his ear, pressing a needle against his neck. He tried to scream, but the drugs were too quick and he passed out, those three whispered words still ringing through his head. 

“Welcome home Katy.”